#like I’d like to give them points for accepting that women can have beards and low voices

[aliosne]

For myself I mostly find it kind of eye roll whatever but I saw it a lot when a transmasc partner was going through some (unrelated) medical issues and it actively delayed medical care. Things like bringing the wrong catheter, stupid stuff that could be cleared up with a quick question, or just. Having to spend laborious amounts of time explaining his situation when his medical complaint had n o t h i n g to do with his genitals or hormones while my partner writhed in pain from a post-viral infection.

To me, it indicated a) a lack of awareness of the existence of trans men on the part of medical staff, and b) indicated they could not conceive of a “passing” trans person to the degree that they looked at a man with a beard and a baritone voice and were like “trans woman…?”

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch35: Not A Perfect Soldier, But A Good Man.

Summary: Almost twelve moths post the vents in Siberia, the four friends are reunited with two familiar faces. Presented with an opportunity that they find too good to turn down, they find themselves back running missions off radar, one of which takes Steve to a dark place within himself, where he finds himself compromising his moral code. 

And then his phone rings…

Warnings: Bad language, Smut! (NSFW, Under 18s) Bad Language words. Mentions of rape/sexual assault.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: Wonderful edit again from @angrybirdcr. And make sure you check out the related one shot- Vanilla, which takes place during this timeframe.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 34

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

June 2017

“Well as far as birthdays on the run go guys, this one’s been the best one I’ve ever had!” Katie grinned as they climbed out of their 4x4 at the Safe house.

Steve and Sam exchanged a look over the roof of the car.

“What?” Katie asked, innocently.

“I can’t tell if that was sarcasm or…” Sam looked at Steve before he turned back to Katie pushing his sunglasses up onto the top of his head. “No, honestly guys I’ve had a great morning.” She smiled at them. “Breakfast was amazing, it was a nice walk round the castle, the sun is out and now we have a BBQ to get fired up!”

It was almost a year now since they’d been on the run. After a brief few months apart where Katie and Steve had been in Wakanda, Sam had been flitting round a few old friends and Wanda had been travelling with Vision, they had all reunited at the end of May, Wanda bringing with her some rather interesting news.

“I did find some stuff out.

Apparently Tony hasn’t spoken to Ross properly in months. When you guys broke out the raft, Ross called him for help and he put him on hold for hours.” Katie looked at Steve, both of them sharing a grin.

“It didn’t go down well. They had a huge bust up and apparently Tony told him to err, and I quote ‘go fuck himself’.” Wanda said, smiling slightly. Steve snorted as she continued. “Said he didn’t answer to SHIELD, the Government or anyone else.”

A pang of affection and guilt hit Katie’s chest. Even after everything her brother was still watching her back. She looked down at her food and blinked, the tears threatening to fall out of her eyes.

“He’s err, he and Pepper, they’re getting married.” Wanda hesitated and Katie took a deep breath.

“Wow, he finally did it.” She whispered, not looking up as she pushed a piece of carrot round her plate, swallowing thickly. “That’s…”

“How’s Rhodes?” Sam asked, changing the subject swiftly and Steve gave him a look of thanks across the table, as he gently reached over and wrapped his hand around the back of Katie’ s neck, giving it a gentle squeeze of affection before his thumb gently began to trace shapes on the soft skin just beneath her hair line. She looked at him and smiled. 

“I’m okay.” She assured him “Honestly.”

Steve kept his hand were it was nonetheless as Wanda continued talking.

“Rhodey is good, the braces he has mean he can walk.” At that Sam looked down, Steve glanced at him. He knew he felt guilty about what had happened.

“And that’s it really.” Wanda shrugged. “Nothing else to report.”

“Glad to hear everyone’s doing good.” Katie nodded. “So you want to see Vision again?”

“I know it might seem odd, or even dangerous.” Wanda mused, “And we’re still at odds over the Sokovia Accords, but yeah, I do.” “Odds?” Steve asked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, he still seems to think that the Accords were right. So, we’ve kind of just agreed not to talk about them. But, even with that, well I just can’t be without him.”

“We love who we love.” Steve said wisely, “If we’re lucky they share our feelings as well as our lives.”

“Like you two you mean?” Sam snorted looking at Steve and Katie “You two are so in tune, sometimes I think you’re actually reading each, others minds.” “How do you know we’re not?” Katie grinned and Sam rolled his eyes.

“Like I said, lucky.” Steve shrugged, pressing a kiss to the side of Katie’s head as he moved his arm from around the back of her and carried on with his food.

“No one should keep you from him if that’s how you feel.” Katie looked at Wanda. “That’s the last thing we would ever want.”

“Yeah you go ahead.” Sam snarked, pulling Katie’s attention back to the here and now. “We’ll grab the bags, don’t worry about it.” “Thanks Sam, you’re a darling.” Katie grinned over her shoulder.

Sam sighed and shook his head. “A fucking liberty, that’s what this is! You wanna remind her of those ground rules, Steve.”

“You remind her.” Steve shot back as they watched the two women head unlock the door to the house.

“You scared of your Missus, Pal?”

“Yes.” Steve said simply and Sam laughed, before he turned and opened the trunk of the car. 

In the house, Katie walked through the small porch and into the living room and immediately stilled. There was something wrong, something she couldn’t put her finger on. Holding an arm out to Wanda she stopped the younger girl and looked at her. Understanding straight away, Wanda’s familiar red tendrils began glowing from her hands. As Katie looked around, unable to shake the feeling that someone or something was there, her eyes fell on a bottle on the coffee table, a bottle that hadn’t been there when they left this morning.

Beluga gold line vodka.

Katie felt her lips curve into a smile “You can come out now.” She stated simply, not bothering to turn round. “You know, I thought spies were supposed to be subtle.”

“Who says I was trying to be?” A familiar voice drawled, causing Wanda to spin round, her mouth falling open in surprise as Natasha stepped out of the smaller living room at the far side of the house.  

Katie turned and looked her friend over. “That why you cut all your hair off and dyed it blonde?”

“Changes is as good as the next.” Nat smirked.

“Good to see you Widow.” Katie beamed, striding over to her and pulling her into a hug.

“You too.” Natasha smiled, squeezing her back. “Happy birthday, Nova.”

Katie released her and Nat turned to Wanda, wrapping her up in a hug too. “I’m telling you man.” Sam’s voice filled the room as he and Steve walked into the house each carrying bags of groceries and snacks for their BBQ “She was putty in my hands. If he hadn’t turned up I’d have-MOTHER FUCKER!” He yelled, dropping the bags he was carrying as he spotted Natasha.

“Nice to see you too, Birdbrain.” She smiled before her face turned to Steve “Rogers.” “Nat?” He blinked in surprise, setting the bags he was carrying down a little more gently than Sam. “Dare I ask how you knew where to find us?” The corner of his mouth quirked up in a small, amused smile “Fury.” She shrugged. “Finished the loose ends I needed to tie up and had to make a swift exit, so he told me where you were. Thought I’d come and see how you were all getting along.” “We’re just peachy.” Sam smiled as he stepped forward opening his arms, “Come on not-so-red-anymore, bring it in.” She gave a huff and then stepped into his arms before she turned to Steve who smiled at her as he pulled her into a huge bear hug.

“I like this.” She leaned back, pulling at his beard and he jerked his head way out of her reach, arching an eyebrow at her. What was it with people and thinking they could just touch his face now he had a beard? That was something reserved for his wife and his wife only. Katie laughed, noticing his irritation as Natasha continued. “Hardly recognised you.” “Well that is the point.” He rolled his eyes.

“Are you sticking around?” Sam asked.

“Well I got nothing else to do.” Nat shrugged. Katie and Steve exchanged a grin, her blasé tone didn’t fool them. She looked tired and slightly shaken, so whatever mission she’d been working on had clearly been tough.

“Well in that case…” Katie picked up the bottle of vodka that was on the table. “How about we crack this open whilst the boys get the grill going?”

A couple of hours later they were full of BBQ meat, salads, potatoes, vodka, beer and juicy information. Whilst Natasha didn’t tell them much about what she had been up to in Russia, she did fill them in on what SHIELD was doing. 

“They’re calling themselves the ‘In-Human Resistance’.” Natasha explained as she showed them a few photos of the growing Vigilante group on a tablet, a group that seemed to be fast gaining traction in America. “They staged an attack in LA and Miami recently. Both at the same time, co-ordinated.”

“They’re fighting registration with the Sokovia Accords?” Steve asked, taking a pull from his bottle of beer.

Natasha nodded.

“Those damned accords have already caused more trouble than they’re ever gonna solve.” Sam said shaking his head. “First the ‘Watchdogs’ emerge to fight In-Humans, now this group emerge to fight them back.”

“This was always going to happen. SHIELD monitored Enhanced beings and In-humans.”  Katie shrugged. “And it worked without the need for any stupid laws.”

”Yeah, so now the plan is that SHIELD are going to go legit. Come out into the open again.”

At that Katie raised her eyebrows. “And Coulson?” “No.” Natasha said, “Coulson will be in the shadows, the public director is going to be a bloke called Jeffrey Mace. He seems a decent guy.” “You know him?” Katie asked.

“Met him briefly. He was at the Accord signings in Vienna as a journalist would you believe it?” “Well he will know how to work the PR angle.” Wanda spoke for the first time in a while and Katie looked at her. She was pushing a piece of potato round on her plate, absentmindedly, no doubt wondering what would happen to her if she ever was caught with all the new rules and hatred being pushed out towards Enhanced or In-humans.

“They’re calling him Patriot.” Natasha said, and she looked at Steve, smirking slightly “Brooklyn boy, just like you Cap. Volunteered for some experiment that would give him super human strength in the wake of the Vienna bombing.” Steve let out a groan “Have SHIELD not learnt anything?”

“You had a lucky escape.” Nat quipped “If you hadn’t been on the run, they’d have been asking you to lead them from the front. Coulson wanted an enhanced person to run in the public eye, drum up support, show the world that they’re not to be feared.” “Nothing more than bullshit, political games.” Sam scoffed, and Natasha raised her eyebrows in agreement.

“Which we, thankfully, are well out of.” Steve leaned back, although Katie could see the nerve ticking in his jaw.

“Are you? Thankful, I mean?” Nat asked and Steve looked at her, frowning. “You not missing being in the thick of it at all?” He didn’t answer. If truth be told he couldn’t, not really. Some days he missed the action, missed having a job to do as such. Whilst he’d helped out occasionally for a bit for cash at the harbour, casual labour and muscle when they needed it, it wasn’t nearly challenging enough.

“What are you saying Nat?” Katie asked. Natasha sighed and leaned back.

“Fury isn’t working as part of SHIELD at the moment, not directly anyway.” She looked at her. “He’s running a few jobs off radar. At the moment he’s currently tracking a few old arms dealers that seem to be back trading old SHIELD and Chitauri stuff. Turns out in the wake of the Avengers being disbanded they all started getting brave again.” “Who’d have thought it?” Katie snorted sarcastically as she chewed at her lip. Steve and her had held this very conversation in Wakanda, wondering how long it would be before the groups they had all but eradicated emerged again in the wake of their split.

“So is that why you’re here?” Steve eyed her suspiciously “Fury wants you to recruit us?” “No.” Nat shook her head, before she smiled at Steve. “He’s going to do that himself when he drops by tomorrow.”

*****

"Why don’t you ask one of the ‘registered heroes’ for help?” Steve raised his eyebrows at Fury as the man finished explaining what he wanted the group to work on.

Fury scoffed. “Whilst SHIELD is of course, in full cooperation with the Accords, this case isn’t exactly on their radar right now.”

“What you mean is, that if it becomes public knowledge that more Chitauri and SHIELD weapons are emerging it will damage what little reputation SHIELD have managed to claw back.” Katie folded her arms. “Because they shouldn’t have ever let it get to this because you should have gotten rid of it all in the first place.”

“Look, Nova.” Fury was quick to reply. "I don’t like this any more than you do, and yes, in hindsight there are a lot of things that SHIELD should have destroyed or shut down back in the day, but I wasn’t the only one making those calls. Pierce had a lot of sway.”

“So effectively you want us to protect SHIELD’s reputation?” Steve raised an eyebrow.

“Why should we do that?” Wanda asked, looking at Fury “Where were you when we needed you?”

“She has a point.” Sam looked at Fury “I mean, I don’t remember SHIELD jumping to our defence after we risked everything to get to Siberia.”

Fury looked at Steve who simply raised his eyebrows. Both he and Katie agreed with Sam, they had expected at least some help from the Director but it never came. 

Or so they thought.

“Just who do you think it was that leaked to the press exactly what went down between you all?” Fury asked, leaning back in his chair. Katie felt her mouth curl up in a smile.

“That was you? Huh, I assumed it was Murdock.” “Well to assume makes an ass of you and me.” Fury quipped, looking at her. “Furthermore, thanks to me there’s currently a group of bounty-hunters sweating their asses off looking for you all in Cairo.”

Steve and Katie exchanged glances before they looked at Sam then Wanda.

“And I’ll continue to help leave false trails as I still believe in you all.” Fury looked at them each in turn “The Accords, this entire situation, yes, it’s a mess but I’m still hoping you guys care enough to want to keep fighting the good fight.”

Katie glanced at Natasha who had remained quiet through the entire discussion. She simply raised an eyebrow and gave a small smile.

“Think about it.” Fury stood up. “Romanoff knows how to contact me. When you’ve made your decision, let me know.”

He headed for the door before he turned back and looked at Katie.

“Oh, and Nova, that final trick you pulled, hacking into the CTU. It worked.”

Katie smiled and gave a small ‘huh’ of laughter and watched the man depart through the same door he’d arrived little over an hour previously.

“Okay, colour me intrigued, what did you hack the UN for?” Natasha looked at Katie and Steve tilted his head as his wife gave a coy smile.

“Technically it was Lawson. When he was digging up the information on the illegal arrests I had him wipe all the records of who accessed their evidence vault when all our gear got broken so Sharron didn’t get into trouble.”

Steve’s mouth quirked up into a small smile as he looked at his wife, once again unable to believe how downright clever she was.

“Wait.” Wanda said, frowning “Why did you do that?” “She’s a Carter.” Katie shrugged as if that was supposed to make sense. And it did to Steve and Natasha but as Sam and Wanda looked at her blankly she took a deep breath and explained “After everything Peggy did in the SSR, founding SHIELD, working with my dad, she deserves for her name and legacy to remain unsullied.”

She locked eyes with Steve who could do nothing but simply look at her, his face soft before he smiled “You really are amazing you know that?”

After an afternoon spent deliberating over Fury’s proposal, Steve told them all to sleep on it and they would make their final decision in the morning, but as he found out at three am, sleep was doing it’s very best to evade him completely.    

“Something on your mind, Soldier?” Katie murmured sleepily as he turned over in bed for what felt like the tenth time in as many minutes. With a sigh he reached out and brushed her hair behind her ear.

“Sorry sweetheart, didn’t mean to wake you.” he said. “I just can’t get what Fury said outta my head.” “And even after I tried my best to make you forget as well.” she quipped and he smiled, leaning over to give her a soft kiss. She gave a soft hmmm of contentment before he pulled away and propped himself up on his elbow

"What do you think we should do?”

“Well, we could ignore it, keep laying low.” she elaborated, with a small yawn “But I know you. And whilst you’ve managed it for a year it hasn’t been easy, and don’t try and pretend you’ve been okay because I know you Steven.” He gave a small snort and looked at her as she continued “And now you know that there’s still stuff to mop up, you’re gonna find it even harder to walk away.”

"I would for you. You know that.”

“But is that what you really want?” she sighed. “Not particularly, no.” he answered honestly. “I want to help but, well, I’m no longer Captain America.”

"Meh, he was an asshole anyway.” she grinned and he gave a snort. “But you ARE Steve Rogers, the, and I quote your best friend here ‘dumbass little blonde punk that couldn’t run away from a fight.” Steve felt himself smile at Bucky’s words. “Long before the serum and the shield, you were standing up for the little guys, for what you thought was right. Okay, you were getting your ass kicked doing it, but still.”

She shrugged and Steve looked down at the silhouette of her face, and he knew she was right. He brought his hand up and with the back of his fingers gently brushed down her right cheek. 

“And you’d be okay with it?” he asked.

“Well, neither of us left the Avengers because we wanted to. So until this blows over…” “If it blows over.” “Steven.” she spoke sternly, and he could tell by the tone of her voice she was glaring at him, even if he couldn’t see her face fully. She was still clinging to some hope that the entire situation would go away, whereas Steve was much more a realist about it all.  “Until this blows over, then, maybe we could, or should keep fighting the good fight. Because that’s what we do best.”

“A band of vigilantes, huh?” He quirked an eyebrow. “Or if we’re getting paid are we mercenaries?”

“Pretty sure mercenaries don’t have ethics behind what they’re doing.” Katie snorted “No, we’ll be, erm, the ‘Nomad Law Enforcers’, NLE for short” she shrugged and he let out a laugh.

As his chuckles died down she gently reached up to stroke his face, his bearded cheek leaning into her touch.

“So, does that mean my new code name is Captain Badass?” He asked, his hand straying down to brush across her bare stomach. “No” She smiled, twitching at the touch “That’s a name only I get to say. Along with Stevie.” “Hate to break it to you, Darlin’ but Buck was calling me Stevie way before you were a twinkle in your pa’s eyes.” he said, his fingers now trailing the inside of her thigh. “Maybe so,” she snaked her arms round his neck and pulling his face down to hers, “but did he ever say it to you like I do, you know, in your ear as I’m about to c-”

“Err no.” he grinned, kissing her on the lips “That one’s all yours, doll.”

“Think you should make me say it now.” she quipped.

“As you wish, ma’am.” he smirked, rolling over on top of her, making her giggle before he cut her off by pressing his lips to hers in a fevered kiss.

The next morning around breakfast they informed the rest of the team what their decision was. Natasha shrugged and said she was in already anyway. Wanda agreed as she had nothing else to do but in the same breath Katie could tell she wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea, so Steve told her that she could dip in and out and didn’t have to do anything she wasn’t happy about. When the only decision left was Sam’s, the man leaned back in his chair with a smirk and nodded. And whilst Steve thought the name Katie had come up with last night for their band of rag-tag heroes was ridiculous, it was ten times better than the offering Sam made.

“The Avengers Secret Society. ASS.” He grinned, draining his coffee mug. “Hell, I’m in. Where do I sign?”

******

Running the missions meant a lot of stealth and covert work, which in turn meant they had to leave the safe house they had called home for over a year for long periods, often months at a time. During those weeks they stayed either in motels or other safe houses which Fury or Natasha had access to in various places across the world as they intercepted various arms trades and took down both buyers and dealers alike. The rest of 2017 past them by in a blur now they were busy. Wanda dipped in and out, choosing sometimes to remain in the safe-house and others she would disappear to meet Vision but always kept them up to date on where she was so they could keep tracks on her. Katie was glad she was getting out and seeing the world, even if she did worry about her from time to time.

As far as lifestyles went, it was tough, hard going, but Katie could see Steve’s sparkle and drive was back in abundance. For the most the missions went without a hitch. Yes, they took knocks, broken noses, cut lips, bust ribs…but it came with the territory, and they all felt good to be back feeling like they were making a difference even if they were doing it unofficially from the shadows. And given that they were indeed vigilantes, they all removed any Avengers symbols from their suits to avoid Tony or the guys back at the compound being dragged into any further political row.

Katie and Natasha ditched their Avenger cat suits entirely, opting for leather cargo pants, jackets and combat vests whilst Sam acquired a new upper body suit for his now battered but sill functional wings. Steve had ripped the star on his uniform from his chest, which was down to a combination of wanting to stay off radar but also because of the fact that he simply wasn’t Captain America anymore, and therefore wasn’t comfortable bearing his insignia. It just didn’t feel right to be operating wearing the symbols once used when they were part of their old team. They were a painful reminder of just what it was that had brought them to this moment, how much they had lost and given up because they were not the Avengers anymore. And this also reflected in the way they operated. They were a lot less sympathetic with their fighting style and they did what they needed to do to get the job done, no more, no less- “Whatever it takes…” as Steve put it. And whilst the Captain still did his best to keep the casualties and fatalities to the minimum, that went completely out of the window one February morning in Jordan. 

They were tracking a suspected group of ex- Hydra stragglers that were, according to Fury’s intelligence, operating a lab with the aim of using a piece of SHIELD technology to manufacture weapons. They’d staked the place out over the last three days or so, and from what they could gather it was a pretty amateur operation all in all, so they didn’t meet much resistance when they stormed the place. Sam and Natasha took one side of the building, Steve and Katie the other. It didn’t take them long to clear out and restrain the hostiles and they set about sweeping the place for any devices they needed to recover before Natasha made her way down to the lab to lay the bombs that would destroy it once everyone was clear.

Steve and Katie made their way down a smaller corridor of the back of the main room whilst Sam and Natasha started to pack up the items they had come for and they reached a fork at the end. Katie went left, Steve went right. He hit a dead end pretty quickly, there only being one more room and that was completely empty. Katie, however had three rooms to look in. The first two were empty, and the third one led off to another smaller room at the back. Scanning round, she assumed the room was clear and headed through into the smaller one, kicking the door open. There was nothing in there bar filing cabinets. Seeing as she was there, she started to pull them open to see if there was anything useful, but it was all older paper work, nothing of interest. Slamming the drawer shut she heard a noise behind her, the cock of a gun and then a voice which made her freeze.

“Back for more you little SHIELD slut?”

That voice took her right back to that painfully bright cell with the hard bed, and the even harder floor.

“You like that don’t you, yeah?” His face was contorted as he grunted whilst he pounded painfully, mercilessly into her over and over again, her wrists painfully held above her head, his weight pressing onto her battered and bruised body which he had played a major part in beating before having joined in the kicking and stamping with glee. “God, she’s so fuckin’ tight…”

She spun round to look at the man who had violated her numerous times, his face exactly the same, wearing the same predatory sneer. Her fists clenched at her side as she weighed up her options, she could probably take him now, even with the gun.

But she hesitated too long.

Her rapist smirked as he raised the gun, keeping it trained on her as he took half a step forward and automatically she moved backwards, her body pressing against the metal of the filing cabinet.

“What? Still no scream?” He chuckled. “You know, we used to have a competition, see which one of us would be the one that made you finally break. But, I gotta hand it to you, you never made a sound. Frankly, it kind of became a bit boring. I’ve had better lays from my palm.” It was then that Katie noticed a movement behind him and looked over his shoulder to see Steve stood in the doorway with a look on his face that Katie had never seen before. Unadulterated anger, rage and fury radiated from every single bit of his body as he stared at the back of the man’s head, his lips curling up into an ugly sneer, a flash of white teeth glinting in the dim white from beneath his beard. “Whatever happens tomorrow you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect soldier, but a good man.”

Steve remembered those words like Dr Erskine had spoken them just yesterday. And for the most part he had lived by them, trying every day to be a man that people could look up to. Years of loss and grief and fighting had made it hard but he had never killed in cold blood and, if possible he always went for the non-fatal take downs. But now, as he heard the words the man in front of him said to his wife as she stood, pressed against the cabinet at the far wall, her chest heaving, eyes wide with a hatred so fierce but yet an unmistakable glimmer of fear underneath it all, he knew exactly who this guy was.

This was one of the animals that had violated her. 

And he wanted to kill the fucker.

At the sight of her husband Katie instantly relaxed, she was safe. There was nothing the bastard in front of her could do to her, not whilst Steve was there. The man saw her change in posture, and frowned as she looked back at him and smirked slightly.

“You want a fight, it’s your lucky day, although I don’t fancy your chances much.” 

She nodded behind her and the man wheeled round fast but he didn’t’ even get chance to point his gun at Steve before the Super Soldier’s fist connected hard with his face, knocking out his front teeth. He staggered backwards and Katie was waiting with a well- aimed leg swipe which sent him crashing to the floor. As he went to push himself up Steve brought his large, boot clad foot down and stomped with all his might on his left hand.

”They broke my fingers and took my rings…” Katie’s voice echoed around his mind as he stamped again, and again before he picked the HYDRA agent up by the collar and smashed his head straight onto the desk.

The man lay groaning in pain on the floor, spitting out blood as he pitifully begged for mercy and Steve allowed him to crawl a few feet away before he kicked him hard in the ribs, stalking him, toying with him, as a cat does with its prey. But like all cats, eventually Steve got bored and hauled him back up again. He spun the snivelling piece of shit round so his back was clamped to his chest, one large forearm over the guy’s throat, palm of the other hand clamped his forehead, pinning him in place and forcing him to look at Katie for no reason other than the fact he wanted her face to be the last thing the bastard’s shitty, Hydra supporting eyes ever looked at.

All the anger Steve felt at how they had abused his wife, his beautiful girl, speared red hot inside him as he remembered the state she’d been in when they’d picked her up. How long it had taken her to heal physically. And all those nights he had held her close after she woke from a nightmare. He’d sworn to himself he would die before he let anyone hurt her again. 

“She told me you did to her.” Steve’s voice was steely, as he spoke into the man’s ear. “You abused her, tortured her, beat her and laughed about it. But now who’s laughing? Look how alive she is, how beautiful and strong she is. How she survived, which is more than you’re gonna do.”

At those words the man, who was groaning to himself began to struggle again, begging for his life. Steve merely tightened his grip.

“I want you to know that you dying is simply because of what you did to my wife. So fuck HYDRA and fuck you.” He snarled, and with a quick, savage twist of his arms, Katie heard the snap and the man grew limp, his neck broken in one, easy movement.

Steve tossed the dead man unceremoniously to the floor, his chest heaving as he looked down at the body on the floor. He’d just killed someone in cold blood. And he didn’t care one single bit.

Katie watched her husband as he looked down at the dead man, utter disgust on his face and she felt a ridiculous surge of affection for her soldier. She knew he’d grappled with the fact he had, in his opinion, failed to keep her safe and, no matter how many times she told him he was ridiculous, she would never convince him otherwise. He’d just abandoned all moral code he had, killing someone out of no reason but the desire for revenge because he loved her. 

He loved her enough to kill someone that had hurt her. As she watched, Steve raised his head to look at her. "You okay?” He asked, his voice full of concern, not a shred of the anger or hatred it had been filled with before was left. She nodded.

“Come on.”  He held out his hand. She stepped over the body on the floor, laced her fingers into his, but they hadn’t even reached the door of the outer room they’d walked through when she pulled on his arm and as he turned to face her, she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down to her, furiously kissing him, teeth clashing, beard scratching-fuck she loved the feel of that- as she emptied every single emotion she was feeling into his mouth. She pulled away and rest her head against his, desire flooding her system, some dark inner part of her had awoken at his merciless persona and he spotted it, a curious tilt of his head to the side told her so much. “Steve, if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m filing for divorce.” He arched an eyebrow “Divorces are messy, we can’t have that.” and the words were barely out of his mouth before he had spun her round, slamming her against the wall, kissing her hard again, groaning as she grasped his growing erection through his combat trousers.

“Right here?” He growled and she nodded eagerly, already fumbling with his utility belt. The clanging of buckles, zipping of trousers and the rustling of fabric filled the air as they both shed the minimum amount of clothing they needed to so that Katie could wrap her legs around Steve’s waist as he lifted her up by the back of her thighs, pressing her against the wall whilst he continued to kiss her neck, biting and sucking at any bit he could get to. He didn’t waste any time before he thrust up into her hard, making her cry out.

It was almost depraved, them fucking with a dead body in the room next to them, but neither of them cared, they were too caught up in a whirlwind of lust and emotions that enveloped them completely. Steve’s hips snapped back and forth with a pace and a vigour that was merciless as he pistoned in and out of her again and again. Her palms were scrabbling at the wall behind her trying to gain some traction and Steve quickly pushed further against her to give her more support so she could move her hands round his shoulders, where she clawed desperately at the material of his uniform as her head fell forward and her teeth nipped at his ear drawing a growl from his throat. Her hands moved into his long hair, where she pulled sharply back causing him to hiss and look up her and the pupils of her eyes were blown wide with a desire he would never tire of seeing.  She pushed her hips down against him causing him to drive deeper and she let out an almost primal cry he had never, in their almost five years of being together, heard her make before. It simply revved him up even more, his rapid movements growing even more urgent.

“Fuck, Stevie,” she moaned, her head rolling back against the wall as her hands clamped onto his shoulders as she started to feel that snake in her belly moving. He felt the tell-tale flutter of her clamping around him and he continued his voracious pace until she cried out, a loud scream before she dropped her head to his shoulder, as she moaned his name, again and again whilst he pounded through her orgasm chasing his own.

“Shit, Katie! I’m…fuck!” his words tumbled into her hair as his movements became desperate and he came with such a force that he felt his knees buckling underneath him and even his super strength wasn’t enough to keep him upright, the absolute gratification he felt was just too much. He caught her as the pair of them collapsed to the dirty concrete floor, her on top of him, a tangle of clothing and limbs, chests heaving, sweat on both their brows as he held her to him, panting and shaking. Neither of them had any idea how long they stayed like that, but eventually Steve managed to gain enough control to sit them both upright, his wife on his lap has he gently brushed the tendrils of hair that had fallen over her face back, and looked at her, his lips gently greeting hers in a soft, tender kiss, a stark contrast to the violent ones they had shared moments before. She smiled at him, unadulterated love in her eyes as she moved her hands to brush his hair back before she leaned down and kissed him again, before her nose slide against his.

“I adore you.” She whispered softly, and he pulled her to him, nuzzling into her neck as he sighed.

“Feeling is mutual, Doll” He murmured, causing her to chuckle before they heard a noise in both their ears.

“Yeah, erm, you do realise your coms were on. That whole time.” Sam’s tone was laced with dismay.  “Erm yep, so we errr, we heard everything.”

Steve felt himself grow cold and he let out a soft groan of utter embarrassment into Katie’s neck

“Most excitement Sammy’s had in years.” Natasha quipped

Katie on the other hand, instead of shrinking with humiliation, threw back her head and laughed, and when Steve looked up at her, unsure exactly what she found so funny about it all, he saw her just fucked pink flush, her eyes which were practically crinkled shut in mirth, her perfect teeth surrounding by those plump lips he could kiss all day, and that freckle spattered nose which was wrinkled as she continued to howl with amusement.

And right then he didn’t care what Sam and Natasha had heard, because frankly, seeing her like that was worth whatever digs and snarky comments that were going to get their way. 

******

April 2018

“Huh…” Nat mused as they entered the dilapidated house, her and Katie pulling off their hoods and masks “Guess my old KGB contacts can pull through in a pinch.”

“We should move fast.” Steve looked at the door to the small, market stall lined street outside “Won’t take long for them to notice something is wrong.”

“I’ll keep watch.” Katie nodded, peering out through the crack in the door into the dusty, desert air as Natasha examined the gun she was holding.

“Definitely Chitauri. Although they’ve been heavily modified.”

Natasha effortlessly deactivated the weapons and they worked quickly and efficiently packing them into the crates ready to take them to the outskirts of the city to the drop point.

“You reckon we’ve earned a break after these ones?” Sam asked, as they began to load the heavy crates onto the back of the truck. Steve smiled as he looked at Sam. They’d been on back to back missions pretty much since New Year so far, the latest of which had brought Steve back to a very familiar market place in Yemen, one he had swore he would never come back to after the last time he’d run an op here. It was hot, dusty, and he had to admit to himself (because he would never admit it to anyone else) he was ready for a break.

“Yeah I think Wanda had the right idea.” Katie mumbled. She wasn’t feeling all that great if truth be told. She’d woken up a few days ago with a dodgy stomach after what she suspected was bad chicken, and it was taking her a while to shake it off. 

They made the drop and headed back to the jet where Katie grabbed another bottle of water and sank into one of the chairs, almost draining it in one. After a few breaths, the queasiness she had been feeling all the drive back to the jet dissipated somewhat and she lay her head back, closing her eyes.

Steve passed his wife, his hand gently running over her hair as she leaned back to take a nap. He knew she wasn’t feeling great but she’d assured him it was nothing serious. Steve was pleased to note that she looked better than she had done a few days ago, there was more colour in her cheeks, so hopefully she was over the worst of it.

Sam got them airborne and set the coordinates for the Safe House, and Steve found himself looking forward to getting back after almost five weeks away. The jet was pretty much silent for a few hours, Steve at one point switching out with Sam to allow him to get some rest too. That last mission had been a hard one, but worth it.

“Have either of you heard from Wanda?” Natasha asked a little while later, as she looked up from the tablet she was poking about on.

Steve shook his head as did Sam. Natasha let out a growl. “She’s deactivated the tracker on her phone. I warned her about that last time.”  

“She isn’t a prisoner Nat.” Steve raised his eyebrows, looking over at Katie who was still sleeping.  “She knows the risks. She’s been doing it on and off for the last two years.”

“I get that, but we don’t know where she is.”

“Look, we should be back at the safe house in what, an hour or so? Let’s wait and see if she’s there.” Steve suggested. “If we don’t hear from her by the morning, then we’ll worry.”

Nat opened her mouth to argue back but Steve shot her his infamous captain glare, signalling the debate was over. She shrugged.

“On your head be it.” She said, nonchalantly before completely changing the subject. “Fury’s patched through a new target- another Terrorist Sect grouping for an attack he suspects.”

“Where is it this time?” Sam called from the cockpit.

“Columbia” Natasha answered.

“Alright,” Steve nodded. “We’ll take a proper look at it once we’re back at the Safe House”

At that point. Katie gave a soft murmur as she stretched out her limbs, opening one eye blearily, then the other. She blinked and Steve stood up, heading over to her.

“Hey, sleepy.” He smiled, dropping a soft kiss to her temple as he crouched down in front of her. “You sure you’re okay?”

Katie at her husband, his handsome face sported a few more lines than it had done this time two years ago, and the spectacular beard he had sported hid his jawline, but his eyes never changed, and here they were so full of concern and love over something so minor as an upset stomach that it almost made her laugh.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She smiled. “I feel much better now.” Which she did. The funny feeling in her stomach and fuzziness in her head was well gone.

Before Steve could say anything else, Sam called his name and he glanced round as he straightened up and looked at the screen on the cockpit.

“Cap, I’m getting a report, some kind of ship”

“Where?” Steve asked as the pair of us turned to face him.

“Seems to be over the mainland UK of all places.” Sam frowned “It’s not much, but it’s big for sure. We’re not far out, fancy a slight detour on the way home, see what it is?”

Before he could answer, Nat strode to the middle of the jet, tablet in her hand.

“You need to see this.”

She swiped at the screen and the footage she was referring to appeared on the hologram display. Katie watched a familiar red and gold figure speeding through the air over the familiar back drop of down-town New York, tangling with, well, she wasn’t sure what the hell they were.

“Oh my God.” she muttered, as she read the tag line playing across the bottom of the news report- New York attacked.

The four of them paused as more footage showed the kid known as Spider-Man swinging through the air, and two other men, one with a long, crimson cloak, all facing off against two foes.  

“When did this happen?” Steve asked eventually, looking at Nat

“15 minutes or so ago.”

Steve didn’t say anything, instead he moved to the locker at the back of the jet, and taking a deep breath, he pulled out his half of the pair of burner phones he had gotten from T’Challa almost two years ago. Stark’s technology still, after all these years, amazed him. An amplified booster on all the jets he owned made it possible to for a mobile phone to continue working whilst in the air. He glanced up at Katie, before flipping open the phone and then all four of them stopped dead as it began to ring before Steve had the chance to even dial. 

“Stark?” His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he asked the question, even though there was no one else with that number…

“Steve, hi, it’s Bruce. It’s err, been a while.”

Steve paused his eyes widening at the surprise at hearing his onetime team mate. “Yeah, yeah it has,” was all he could say. “Listen, there’s not a lot of time to explain but something big, someone big to be exact, is coming, and they’re after Vision.” “Vision?” Steve paused, standing still where he had been pacing unknowingly.

“For the Stone.” Bruce continued. “He’s turned off his transponder so we can’t track him, but Tony…” Bruce took a deep voice and Steve glanced up at Katie who was watching him intently. “Tony went after the ship, Cap, he’s on the ship, heading out to space, but before it all started he was about to call you. He said that you might be able to find Vision. And we need to, we need to before they do. You got any idea where he is?”

Steve listened to Bruce’s rambles, a million and one questions were whirring round his head, but there was no time for that. If this was as big an issue as he said, they had to find Vision. And right now, he would hazard a guess that he was wherever that huge ship over the UK was.

“I don’t know for sure, but I have a pretty good idea.” He sighed.

“You need to get him before they do Steve, and I mean it. This is the biggest threat we’ve ever faced. This guy, well even Thor couldn’t stop him.”

Now that really did worry him, but again there was time to think about that later. “Leave it with us.” he said gently, before he closed the phone and stuck it into his pocket.

“What is it?” Katie asked, “Was that Tony?”

Ignoring her, Steve strode to the front of the jet and spoke to Sam. “That reading. Can you get a lock on it?”

“Piece of cake”

“Get us there, fast.” Steve instructed. Sam nodded to show he had understood.

Steve looked back at Natasha and Katie as his wife crossed her arms, waiting for an explanation, not impressed with being ignored.

“Whatever is on that Ship, chances are they’re looking for Vision.” Steve said simply “They want the stone in his head.”

“Wanda…” Nat muttered gently, as she hurried to the front of the jet.

Katie’s eyes however went back on the footage of the spinning space ship above the city they once called home.

“Steve.” She said eventually “Tell me please, how was he?”

“Sweetheart, it wasn’t Tony.” Steve replied, his voice low as he looked up at the cockpit. Natasha and Sam were busy flicking switches. “It was Banner”

“Banner?” she frowned “But what? I mean how?” “I don’t know but he said that Tony had go-…”

“We got it, Cap.” Sam interrupted. “Just over Edinburgh, I’ve locked in the route, we should be wheels down in ten.”

Steve nodded and then turned back to Katie as she carried on speaking.

“What about Tony?” she pressed.

Steve opened his mouth to answer but he stopped, his eyes falling onto the footage, still playing on the hollovision. Katie followed his gaze, the next line across the bottom answered her question.

Billionaire Tony Stark missing.

Katie couldn’t find any words to say. Instead she felt her breathing deepen and she swallowed thickly staring at the footage. Missing? Like, kidnapped? Missing in Action, missing presumed dead…a thousand and one thoughts  began running through her head, all of them coming back to the last time they had seen one another, the harsh exchange of words and him telling her he was ashamed of her before she left him in that cold bunker in Siberia.

Steve’s hand dropped onto his wife’s shoulder as he noticed her lip was beginning to wobble. 

“We get Vision and then we work on finding him.” He assured her gently, looking at Katie who looked up at him.

“We best hope we find him.” She swallowed again before she looked down at her hands. “Because if worst comes to worst and the last time we spoke to each other was when we parted on such bad terms, I’ll never forgive myself Steve.”

**** O/S: Vanilla

Chapter 36 Part 1

**Original Posting**

[littlefreya]

Bad Reputation

Synopsis: Henry and his girl can’t get enough from one another. They keep finding themselves in rather sticky and lusty situations while other actors are present around them. 🤭

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

Word count: 2.3K

Warnings: Smut, thigh riding, exhibition kink, public display of affection, dirty language, slight fingering, daddy kink.

A/N: This is by request made for thigh riding! I see this as a slight sequel to  Putting up a Show and Good Girl just because in my mind they are the same couple. Many thanks again to the marvellous @agniavateira​ for doing the beta! Masterlist is here.

Let me know if you want to be added/removed! Thank you for reading as always :)

PR fucking nightmare - that’s what our managers call us. 

They thought it would go away after our first year of dating. But the sad truth is, Henry just loves to touch, and I’m a hot-blooded woman who loves to fuck shit up. Three years in being married and the line is so goddamn blurry by now; I am never quite certain which one of us initiates it, nor do I even care. 

I see my bear sitting sprawled across the red leather sofas, legs spread open as he can never keep them shut. I know I’m terribly biased but that black tuxedo suit sure as hell looks great on his strong figure, especially with the crooked bowtie and the beard he’s been growing for his new movie role. 

And as if the bad boy vibes and big dick energy he sends everywhere wasn’t enough, the half-empty Grey Goose bottle on the round golden table next to him and the slight sweat that covers his forehead is a red flag that we are definitely getting into trouble tonight. 

Bring it on. 

Armie is sitting right next to him, telling him about some scheme by the gesture he is making with his hands. But I can tell Henry has other things on his mind. I can feel his eyes looking at me even when I am standing far away. Our gazes meet, he offers me a mischievous smile, showing off the large dimples of his cheeks. This is what I call a wet, slippery invention. 

I blush and look away. I mean, I have Rebecca Ferguson holding my forearms. That woman makes me want to invite her into our bedroom, but Henry doesn’t like sharing, not even with women. It doesn’t matter how much I’d pout and beg, he likes me all to himself, and he loves it when others can see that I am his. 

It’s always his hand between my thighs, riding up higher, thumb tickling at my clit teasingly. We sat through an entire acceptance speech with him working me hard. If anyone looks closely at that video on Youtube, you can see the exact moment when he hits the spot.

Sorry, Leo, I wasn’t smiling because you won. 

This is us being subtle. Hotels and parties, however, are a different story. We already had a manager quit on us because we made sure the entire floor hears what we are doing through the night. 

Rebecca kisses me on the cheek, the gorgeous Swedish redhead is already tipsy, and I’ve had my second glass of wine. She’s in a red satin dress, her impressive breasts showing through her cleavage. I also spot a few freckles on her chest. It makes me pout and look at Henry, who shakes his head in refusal. 

“Where is your hubby anyway?” she asks playfully, and I point in the direction of where he is sitting. Armie is just getting up, leaving Henry alone. He pours himself some more vodka, fills the glass with ice and then takes a sip with a lustful gaze. That’s probably my cue to keep him company and take that glass away.  

That video when he told everyone to get naked will forever be online. He also has a tendency to start making impressions of others when he is flustered, and I can’t contain my laughter when that happens.

“He’s too drunk to get up.” I sigh, shaking my head while he makes playful, sad faces at me. I shrug and take my phone out my purse, seeing two text messages from him.

Henry: “Where are you, babygirl?” Henry: “I want to squeeze that ass.” 

I text him back “Armie’s? Go for it. Can we have Rebecca, pleaaaaase?” 

He reads my reply, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in complete refusal. 

“Not. sharing. you. Do you want me to spank you in front of all these people?” 

Rebecca is oddly enough very touchy-feely, her hand sliding down my forearms while she speaks about how wonderful Henry is, and how fun it was to work with him on MI6.

“He’s not like all the other ones, he is an actual friend,” she explains to me, her beautiful green eyes lighting up. 

“I know, that’s how he got me, pretended to be my friend for years.” I chuckle, remembering the times we were still just friends. If you look at videos of us from interviews and photos from events from the time we worked together, you’d think we’ve been dating already. He always touched me subtly, his eyes staring at me intently when I speak. And of course, no one cracks him up the way I do.

But Henry waited 5 years for both of us to be single at the same time to “kidnap” me during a walk with our dogs at the forest, where I’d literally be unable to run away. He did that so he can tell me he’s been in love and growing in love with me ever since we met.

I smile at the sweet memory. I held my tears when that word left his lips.

“I’ll come to say hello later, I’m starving,” she says and rubs her belly gently. I nod and lean forward to kiss her, deliberately kissing her soft, red-painted lips for Henry to see. Us girls, we really don’t mind.

As I turn to face him, he is already frowning. He’s not amused by my vexing behaviour. I give him my best angelic posture, batting my lashes and holding my hands together while my head is tilted to the side. In that pale blue and silver dress, I might look like some saint right now, but my darling knows I’ve come from south to heaven.

I make my way to him, walking slowly, a smile both in my eyes and between my cheeks. I can feel the fire burning in my chest, the sight of him is dashing, those thick thighs ever so inviting. He spreads his legs even wider, the bulge in his groin made only for me. He has his pinky finger pressed between his teeth while checking me out.

My body heeds his calling, I’m tingling wet. 

I stand in front of him, my cheeks warm as if this is a first hook up of some sort. Henry rises his beautiful blues to stare straight into my eyes. The beaming lights in the hall make his sweaty skin glow in neon pink and gold, his eyes flashing bright as the different colours dance across his face.

“How many of those have you had?” I ask, gesturing at the glass, noticing the half-empty bottle. I hope not too much, I expect to be rammed tonight when we return to the hotel. 

He shrugs, putting the glass away without bothering to finish it. He is British, and boy, he can drink a lot. He is not as half as flustered as a different guy would be, but yes, he is certainly quite drunk. Enough to give me that look of his-one eyebrow rising up-while his eyes drink in my dress, cleavage, ass, and that slit that runs from my legs to my thighs.

My friends asked me if Henry is an ass or tits man, to which my answer was “he is ‘all of me’ man.” 

“Gotta love women's liberation.” He speaks in a deep, low voice, gesturing at my provocative dress. 

“Come to daddy.” He demands, holding out his hand for me to come and sit on his thigh. To which I am more than happy to comply.

I spread my legs, moving to straddle his muscular thigh. There is a burning sensation at my core as my pelvis meets his taut muscle. My body always reacts to his touch. Henry’s hands immediately take my face, thumbs stroking at my cheeks.

“Why do you tease me, beautiful?” he murmurs, his fierce gaze tracing my face, always taken by me, memorizing every freckle and flaw as if it’s the first time we ever sit so close. God, he makes me feel so beautiful even in my ugliest of ugly days.

I lean forward to get even closer, my ass riding up his leg and my hands reach out to tug at his white buttoned shirt. “Oh, Henry-Bear, it’s. So. much. fun.”

Someone sits right next to us on the big red sofa, saying a friendly hello. We answer at the same time, without breaking eye contact. We never bother looking who is the actor, producer, or whatever who moved to bug us. Too lost in our own little mist of admiration. Henry’s fingers descend from my face to my neck, fingers skirting down my neck sensually. 

“You know what I love about these ceremonies and parties?” he asks as he leans closer to whisper in my ear and then places a wet, lingering kiss on my shoulder. His chin pushes the straps of my dress away, letting it fall on my forearm as if by accident. I let it glide, shivering as the coarse hair of his beard marks my flesh.

“I get to show you off while you’re wearing these outrageous dresses and everyone knows I am taking you home to fuck you until sunrise.”

I chuckle lustfully, my tongue pressed between my teeth. “Last time we didn’t even make it home remember?” I hum gently, feeling his rough touch on my breasts. The tip of his thumbs circles my nipples, teasing them to harden through the thin fabric of my dress. I wouldn’t give a fuck if Henry had me topless right now and sink his fangs in my tits for everyone to see. But he is far too selfish, I was made for his eyes and his eyes only.

He settles for a “chaste” show, laying a kiss beneath my chin and then pressing his face at my cleavage, inhaling the scent of my body lotion before nibbling at my breast through my dress. His breath smells like vodka-sweet and spicy at once.

“I remember, Cumberbatch saw the whole thing,” he answers, his hands holding my ribs, slightly guiding me to move my body on top of his thigh in ghostlike movements. I am searing hot, my mound feels as if it’s seconds from catching fire. I am certain he can feel it, his blue eyes now hazy and dreamlike as they watch the pink tint that runs through my neck to my cheeks. 

“Fuck me, daddy, I am so horny!”

My whisper comes out as half a cry, weak and desperate. My body is a void, it suffers without his touch, it aches when we’re disjointed. I hope we’ll never stop feeling this way toward one another. 

“Ride me, babygirl.” he urges me, raising his thigh up higher, so I’ll slide down closer. The friction makes me lose sight for a moment. My vision blurs as I throb wet and hot onto him. Good thing his trousers are black, otherwise, everyone would be able to detect the wetness I am leaving on his pants. 

I can’t reject his decree, my body needs him. 

“You like it when they watch, don’t you?” he asks me with a slightly slurred voice. His hands glide down to squeeze my ass, assisting me in dancing on the rock-hard muscle of his leg. I am grinding slow and rough, shifting my weight forward, my right hand reaching his other thigh, clawing at him with growing pleasure.

Everyone is looking at us, I am sure, some embarrassed and perhaps even appalled. How puritan of you Hollywood. These people formed their own religion and hidden sex clubs. But I am convinced many enjoy this facade and discreetly salute us, some probably holding out their cameras.  

I roll my hips up and clench my inner thighs, whimpering as my body begins to tremble.  

It doesn’t matter who is staring while I ride him so passionately, seeking my pleasure with urgency while Henry’s hands support me, saddling my hips and pulling me toward him. We don’t see anyone else. We’re locked into one another, the way we always did, just like when Henry had a girlfriend, when we were “just friends” when I dated that asshole. We’d walk into a room, and it was just me and him, hearts and chest bursting with love.

Every moment we couldn’t have one another was stolen from us, we now fight to own it back.  

“I’d sit you on my face in front of everyone, but I think Gretchen would kill us.” Henry half whispers against my throat and then licks up my neck as I lift my chin to the ceiling with gaping lips. He has his hand between my legs, drawing at my centre and sneaking between the slit of my dress to finish the job. 

“Fuck!” he teases my clit, his middle finger travelling at my seams. My entire existence shudders. The bass of the music blasts through my chest, my eardrums throb, and my eyes see all the colours of the neon at once as my cunt implodes with orgasmic bliss. Henry steals my gasp into his mouth, his hand pressing my cheeks, crushing my mouth with hunger. 

Who could ever hate us for our expression of true love?

I gasp feverishly, holding onto him as if I’m about to fall. Henry’s lips are on my temple and then my cheek. Pressing against me and not moving away. He envelops me in his big arms, a clear statement to all our viewers that I am his and he is mine.  We both move our heads to see who's been sitting next to us this entire time.

Alec Baldwin and Jake Gyllenhaal. They pretend not to stare, at least Alec does. Jake gives us a wide, knowing smile. Everyone else has also been staring as I hear the whispers and gasps. 

“Really? They did that again!?”

We bump our foreheads together and snicker with delight. Like we ever gave a fuck about being caught. It’s not the first time, won’t be the last. We just can’t get our hands off of each other. 

“Better call Gretchen now.” I tell Henry, hanging my arm around his thick neck. 

“Before or after I fuck you in one of the back rooms here?”

[nicolewoo]

Yo, Jamie!!! It’s almost done.

Pairing: King Roman Reigns X Female reader

Warnings: None

My average day was a controlled chaos. Everyone wanted an audience with the king, and I had to know what issues were pressing, which nobles I could and couldn’t talk to, and a million other details. All of these things weighed on me daily. Now, with my mother and the church pressing me to take a bride, I’d reached a breaking point.

 After I had yelled at a servant for no reason, Charles the Lord of Sussex and my most trusted advisor and friend, suggested we take a few hours to go riding this morning. He’d been right, too. A few hours away from the castle and the nobles was exactly what I needed.

 We’d tried to slip out before the sun rose so we could avoid anyone, but as we prepared to leave the grounds, the Captain of the Guard saw us. Christopher was a tall lanky man with almost no hair anymore and an unfortunate habit of rubbing his face when he was nervous. Now, as he insisted that the king should not ride un-escorted, his hand brushed over his face repeatedly.

 “Your highness, we have hundreds of nobles arriving this week. I’m afraid there will be more thieves in the forest. I’ve got plenty of guards on the road, but if you’ll be avoiding the road,” he eyed me suspiciously, knowing I never stayed on the road, “I insist you take a couple of guards.”

I begrudgingly agreed but told the guards to stay far back from us unless we encountered other people.

Charles and I enjoyed a very peaceful ride, stopping once for a cleansing swim in a river and to eat some bread and cheese Charles packed. “My friend, you’ve done me a great service today.” I said as I lounged shirtless on a patch of grass soaking in the sun.

 Charles cocked his head a bit as if surprised to hear a compliment. “It’s my pleasure, sire. You needed a break.”

 “I guess we should head back.” I admitted as I stood and finished getting dressed. Charles finished a minute before me and packed up the rest of the food. Once mounted on my horse, I hesitated to leave. “I wish I could do this every day, like we did when we were kids.”

 Charles smiled at me. “You were never destined to a life of leisure, Your Highness. God chose you to be a wise and fair king who is building a greater country and a greater world.” He whistled to the guards I’d forgotten were even with us, and they mounted their horses to follow us. “Besides, you’d be miserable if you lived a quiet, boring life.” We both laughed.

 Finding a slow trot, Charles and I continued talking, mostly about Charles’s sexual conquests. As a young, unmarried titled man, he had his choice of lovers in the court, and none of them ever kept his attention for more than a few months. Knowing I’d be married off one day in a probable political move, I’d chosen to be much less adventurous. I’d enjoyed the affections of a couple of women, but I never knew if it was because they liked me or the idea of becoming a queen. Now that I was king, I was too busy, too stressed, too careful. I noticed the ladies at court. There were a couple of fetching noble women, but none that sparked anything even close to passion.

 I knew it was time to marry. I wanted to get married, but for love. Instead, women from around the world were invading my castle, and I was to meet every single one of them in a week-long quest to find a wife. Not only would my attendance be necessary at every meal and every social occasion, I was to meet each potential candidate in person and in private (with a chaperone), a task I was dreading. Meeting after meeting of women throwing themselves at my feet trying to become the next queen.

 “Are you ok, highness?” Charles’s voice broke me out of my worry.

 “Just thinking about this week.” I admitted to him.

 Charles thought for a moment before talking. “I envy you. You’ll have your choice of women. If I were you, I’d bed whichever ones I wanted. You could have a wife and mistress by the end of the week.”

 Of course, he was excited about the prospect of more women at court. “My friend, I believe you’re going to bed many of them this week.” I chuckled.

 Charles laughed with me, “Not until Your Royal Highness has ruled them out as your future queen.”

 “Well then, I’ve finally found the worth of being a king. I don’t have to accept your discarded women.” I stopped my horse at a river so both of us could drink. Charles pulled up besides us and jumped off his horse too.

 Charles’s laugh rang out over the forest. “Would that be so bad?”

 “Your prowess is well known, and I’ve seen ladies after you’ve spent an evening with them. I’d be afraid I’d disappoint.” I said.

 Charles smiled shyly. “Sire, you know whomever you choose must be pure.”

 I laughed now, “Are there any pure women anymore?”

 “On my oath sire, I’ve tried to ensure there are no virgins in this country. That’s why we are importing new virgins from other countries to meet you.” Charles teased before becoming serious. “I have a great feeling about this week, sire. I honestly think you’ll meet a fetching young bride from some exotic country that needs an alliance with us and you’ll find some measure of joy in your marriage.”

 “An alliance?” I looked down in disappointment and patted my mare on the neck reassuringly. “I’m afraid that’s all my marriage will be about.”

 “I’m telling you sire,” Charles said as he bent low to fill his water skin, “I believe you will find someone who will give you a cordial marriage.”

 “Cordial? I guess love is too much to hope for.” I hopped back on my horse.

 Charles mounted his horse too and we began a slow trot through the woods. “That’s what the mistress is for.” I knew he was jesting, but the seriousness of the whole situation fell on me again as we rode.

 Why was I forbidden to marry for love? Why was I born to be king? “Let’s speak of other things. Our ride was supposed to distract me.”

  Charles was always quick to raise my spirits. “The delegation from the Arabian Peninsula is bringing you a dozen stallions when they arrive. It’s said their horses are the best.”

At my happy expression he continued. “As soon as they arrive, I’ll let you know. Maybe you can find a few free moments to go see them.”

That sounded great. “Thank you. Not just for letting me know when the horses arrive. Thank you  for today. I needed this.” Charles gave me a respectful nod as his answer. I inhaled the forest air, trying to etch the memory of it into my mind to carry me through this busy week.

“Care to race, Your Highness?” Charles challenged. I didn’t answer but tapped my horse’s side to gallop full speed. I heard Charle’s call of “Not fair.” As I took the lead. He caught up quickly and we raced for a long while.

Realizing I was only hastening my journey back to the castle and my royal obligations, I slowed us down again and we rode in silence for a few short minutes before we heard the ping of metal hitting metal.

“Let the guards go first” Charles suggested.

Metal on metal usually meant swords, so I agreed. I motioned to the guards, and they rode ahead of us for a minute. As we neared the top of a hill, one of the guards motioned that it was safe. I looked ahead and saw a carriage with a wheel off on the King’s Road. “Let’s go help.” I said to the guards.

Peter, a thin young guard with messy hair and a patchy beard answered. “Your Highness, I can take care of this.” He motioned to the younger guard next to him. “William can protect you on the way to the castle if you’d like.”

In that carriage was surely one of my potential brides coming to the castle to meet with me. Yes, I wanted to escape, but maybe I could sneak a peek. If she was fetching, it could go a long way to easing my fears. If she was unattractive, at least I’d be prepared for my meeting with her. I trotted closer to the guard and took in the whole scene in front of me.

Not only had the wheel fallen off; it was stuck under the now emptied carriage. The ladies in waiting and an elderly man I assumed was the driver were seated on a blanket off to the side while what seemed to be the lady of the carriage tried to lift the vehicle.

She’d managed to get a small log on a rock and was trying to pry the carriage up using her body weight. It wasn’t working, but from where I was standing, I got a full view of a truly amazing bottom swaying with her efforts. I was so amused, I pondered not offering her help just to see how she’d do.

 Just as I was about to speak, she defiantly stuck her chin out and looked around my guards locking her eyes on me. “Must I ask for assistance or will it be offered?” She spit the words out like weapons.

 She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, despite the dirt all over her and hair falling out of it’s restrains and trailing down her neck. Her dress was beautiful despite the oil and dirt covering it. It was wrecked though.  

 She dabbed at some sweat on her forehead with a ragged piece of cloth and ended up smearing dirt on her face.

 Charles leaned forward a bit, “It will do you well to watch your tone in front of...”

 I interrupted, “The Lord of Sussex.” I had stolen Charles’s title, and he gaped after me in confusion. I shot him a look that convinced him to keep quiet.

 She seemed more contrite now. “My apologies, My Lord.” She curtsied a bit.

 I smiled down at her. “Think nothing of it.” I looked at Charles now. “Mister Brandon, Shall we assist this damsel in distress?”

 Charles smiled. “Yes your Lordship.” We dismounted and handed the reigns of our horses to the elderly driver.

 We made short work of lifting and replacing the wheel. After a quick survey of the road, the guards found a missing bolt. With that in place, the carriage would be fine.  

 “Why have I not seen you in court?” I asked as I held the carriage still While Charles and the guards.

 She exhaled haughtily “I’m afraid I’m not very welcome at court, nor do I care to go to court.”

 I lifted my brow “And why is that my lady?” I tried to suppress a laugh. She was so direct, so plain-spoken, unlike most of the women at court. Court could probably do well to have some women with backbones like her. It would at least make court more interesting.

  “I have an unfortunate habit of telling the truth.” I laughed hnow. Seeing that I was genuinely amused, Charles relaxed and laughed too.

 “Well now, telling the truth is a virtue, even at court.” I smiled as Charles chuckled under his breath.

 “My Lord, I’ve seen many things in court, but virtue isn’t one of them.”

I leveled her with my gaze. “Are you saying The King lacks virtue?”

 I caught a brief glimpse of annoyance in her voice.  “I said nothing of the kind!”

 “Are you saying the courtiers are without virtue?” I asked.

She blanched when she realized that as a Lord, I could be a regular at the palace. “My apologies My Lord. No. I simply meant that matters of piety are not a priority to all who attend the court.”

 I glanced over at Charles who was laughing under his breath at her stubbornness.” This is a fun game and one I didn’t want to end just yet.

 “Well, gentle lady, would 2 non-virtuous gentlemen of The King’s Court offer their assistance to a lady in distress?” I asked as I gestured to her now repaired carriage.

 “I tell you truly, sirs, that many in His Magesty’s Court would not assist, but to serve their own purposes.”

 I walked a step closer to her in a show of power, but instead of looking away, she stared me straight in the eye defiantly. “And what, pray tell, do I have to gain from helping you today?”

 “My Lord, I didn’t mean any offence to you or your friend.” She nodded to our party. “You have indeed done me a great favor today.”

 Was she finally breaking? “And what have I asked in return?”

 She smiled now. She was breathtaking when she smiled.

 @mindofasagitarius   @lclb13 @serenityfiretrash @lustyromantic @reigns-5sos @bigpsychicbagelauthor @omg-im-such-a-masochist @marlananicole @wickedsunfire

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

Perception pt. 1

The Company x Reader

I’ve always had the idea that, while men and elves seem to like the slimmer built type of women, dwarves and hobbits like theirs a little more curvy/voluptuous (whatever term you like). Maybe it’s all the eating and beer drinking that makes me think that lol. Anyway....the human reader would be confused at first about why literally the entire company is acting like major show offs. But, once she figures this out she uses it to her amusement/advantage. There doesn’t have to be a specific pairing, or you can pick one yourself if you feel like it. ---middleearth2asgard

---

Fat.

Ugly. 

Pig.

These seem to be some of the favorite insults of those who didn't like you in your past life on earth. 

The stereotype that every woman must be and look a certain way, be a certain height and have a certain weight, has always weighed you down heavily; and while you often pretended that it didn't hurt you very much and you did your best to ignore it, at some point you began to believe those things. 

A person can only go on for so long hearing something before their beliefs change, after all. 

Obviously, you're not ugly in the slightest, for all people are beautiful when their lovely on the inside. Not to mention, physical attraction is merely something based on opinion. Ever heard of the saying 'beauty lies in the eye of the beholder'? 

In this specific group though, everything is a lot different. 

Not that you particularly know it, but for them you've got to be the prettiest thing around. 

Healthy is the way the see you, healthy, strong, and gorgeous, and that topped with you wonderful personality... well, they're done for. 

Not all of them, obviously, because some are married, unaware, or just not interested, but that doesn't mean they don't like you or anything like that. 

The first time Kili called you pretty, you got angry and told him to stop teasing you. 

When his brother did the same a few hours later, you became furious and refused to speak with them for the rest of the day.

Balin asked you why you were in such a bad mood that night, and when you explained it to him he only smiled and shook his head, telling you in a soft and understanding voice. "I do not understand how you feel of yourself, my dear, but please rest assured that they were not teasing you. You're lovely." 

Since Balin was the one who said it you kinda felt obligated to believe him, and so that next morning you sought out the sheepish brothers and apologized for getting so angry, though you offered no explanation to your behavior.

When Bofur called you lovely one afternoon, you didn't get as angry though you did deny it, mumbling something about your weight before riding off away from him. 

Dwalin's compliment of you was more of a gruff, "You look nice today," and it embarrassed you and only uttered a disbelieving, 'okay' in response. 

Eventually, you grew more used to the compliments given to you on your appearance, though you preferred the ones about liking your cooking or laugh more so since you could actually believe in someone liking that. 

Little did you know, however, that your reluctance to have faith in their praises has sparked quite a bit of debate amongst them, and rather quickly did an agreement to show you how lovely you truly are come to be.

Another thing you've noticed besides the constant compliments, is the boastful and swanky behavior of some of them (like Thorin's nephews, Dwalin, Bofur, Thorin himself sometimes, and even sweet Ori to name a few). 

Truthfully, you find it to be pretty funny. How they'll randomly challenge each other and walk around all big headed when they win one of those challenges, showing off their skills and boasting. 

It's pretty funny though you don't really know why they do it, and you haven't really bothered to ask about it either so... 

---

"Hey, Y/N!" Someone calls suddenly, capturing your attention from the conversation you were having with Gloin, "Watch this!"

You turn toward the noise and see Fili and Kili looking at you with matching grins. 

As soon as your attention is on them, Fili pulls out some bite-sized dried mutton and aims as Kili runs a few paces ahead. Fili throws the food and Kili follows it with his mouth open, catching it perfectly.

A bright smile spreads across your face and you clap your hands a couple of times, "Wow! If I couldn't do better, I'd probably be impressed!" You exclaim, unable to keep the confidence from your voice.

Kili's bright smile melts into a frown and he furrows his eyebrows, meanwhile Fili just raises an eyebrow and asks skeptically. "You can do better?" 

"I sure can. I can catch food in my mouth from almost any distance." You say as a smile spreads across your face, fondly remembering all the grapes and marshmallows that you've 'trained' with over the years. It's just a natural talent, really. 

"You don't mind if I put that to the test now, do you?" He challenges, pulling off another bite sized piece of his mutton.

Oh, he really thinks he's gonna psyche you out right now? You are so about to put this mans in his place. "Not in the slightest! Hit me with your best shot, pretty boy!" You exclaim rather assertively. 

You drop what you're doing and jump up to your feet, stepping back further a few paces. 

"Wait, you're going really far." Fili warns, looking at you in perplexity. 

"Are you afraid you don't have the arm for it?" You taunt, crossing your arms over your chest with a smirk quirking at your lips. 

His eye twitches in annoyance at your teasing, but he only pulls his arm back to show he's ready. "Well, you asked for it." 

You drop your arms back to your side and watch his hand carefully, and when he finally throws it and it sails through the air you keep your eyes trained on it the whole time. 

As it grows closer you adjust your stance and position, and then you open your mouth when it's less than a second away and...

It lands right in your mouth!

You throw your arms up in the air and cheer, chewing the hard jerky while everyone else looks on in amazement. 

Once the mutton is swallowed you smile brightly and drop your hands back to your sides, "I told you!" 

"T-That was astounding!" The blond dwarf breathes, looking over at his brother with the same look of shock and admiration on his face. 

Right before you respond a small voice in the back of your head whispers, 'Now they know how you got to be such a pig.' And the grin immediately falls from your face.

"No... it wasn't anything." You deny softly, walking back forward to grab your things. 

Your sudden change in demeanor is almost as shocking as the hidden talent you just displayed, and as soon as you walk droopily over to the items you discarded they began to exchange confused and slightly concerned glances with one another. 

For the majority of the day, you don't say anything else. 

---

That night when dinner time rolled around you hesitated to eat anything.

In fact, you fully intended not to have anything at all if it weren't for the fact that Thorin approached you and reminded you that you haven't eaten yet. 

Obviously, you cannot tell the leader of the group 'no' to eating like a petulant child, so you concede and get a bowl for yourself and, ultimately, give your left overs to Bofur despite him insisting that you finish your own food.

It was the same story the next morning at breakfast. 

You kinda poked at your food, had a few mouthfuls, then gave the rest to someone else. 

Of course, that didn't go by unnoticed either. 

---

After everyone picks up on your odd mannerisms and realize that there's something deeper going on, they end up having a conversation about it while you're out bathing in the river away from everyone else. 

"The lass has been acting awfully odd, recently..." Dwalin brought up suddenly while everyone settles in for the night, catching everyones attention in no time. 

"She has, but does anyone know why?" Nori adds, his eyebrows furrowing. 

Everything is quiet as they think it over, trying to find out what has changed. 

"Maybe the compliments are bothering her?" Ori offers quietly, his head tilted slightly to the side. 

Balin shakes his head a bit, taking a puff from his pipe before adding, "Yes, but she's always been rather touchy about acclamation and flattery. It has to be something else." 

"Well, after we bet her on catching food in her mouth is when she started being all weird." Kili pipes up, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Or at least, it developed more. She's never refused dinner before." 

Thorin listens along quietly, occasionally taking a puff from his briar while he too tries to figure it out. 

"Let's put all of our facts together, hows about?" Balin suggests, leaning forward a bit. "She refuses to accept compliments on her appearance, she expresses a skillset and shuts down, and she won't eat properly."

Once more there is silence as they consider the facts, and then Bilbo adds, "The food catching skill, right?" He sounds like he's onto something, and the brighter of them see what he's getting at. 

Balin nods his head slowly, stroking his beard gently, "Yes...," he begins, "Well, this is less concerning than I thought. I was worried she was sick, at first." 

Thorin nods his head, putting his pipe down as he leans forward and finally speaks, "As was I. It's still bothers me though..." 

"What? What bothers you?" Bofur asks, looking between those who seem to understand what's going on. 

"I don't get it either." Kili adds, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. 

"The lass doesn't value herself, my boy." Balin explains in a quiet voice, his expression grim. 

"Oh..."

"Well what are we going to do about it?" Fili asks, crossing his arms over his chest with his own pipe hanging from his hand. 

"There isn't much we can do other than show our appreciation and express our disagreement with her self evaluation." The older dwarf explains. 

Everyone nods, and at that moment they decide the best course of action is to prove you otherwise. 

[jeannereames]

I know this was not your intention, but I am in love with the idea of historically accurate Greek vampires. I also have a random question: did the ancients have 'horror stories' (the folklore kind) like we do?

First, I too am intrigued by the concept of a vampire-ghost story. It would be interesting to explore an idea like that: the shade who doesn’t want to go back to Hades’s Hall, whether out of pity for a grieving parent (or spouse or lover), or desire to avoid the dullness of death (or both). Plenty of pathos in that scenario!

They did have horror stories. Greek myth itself is filled with horror and violence, and those stories which have come down to us began as local tales that gained wider popularity. That’s why there isn’t a (correct) version of any given Greek myth, but multiple takes. Cultures influenced by Jewish-Christian-Muslim tradition are acclimated to a “canon,” and tend to assume canons in all world religions. In fact, relatively few had them. What’s a canon? An authoritative text: e.g., the “correct” version.

Greek religion focused on what people did in terms of sacrifice, etc. (orthopraxis), not what they believed (orthodoxy).* So variations in myths didn’t flip them out. They’re more interested in the larger “sense” of the gods, and honoring particular local manifestations (usually found in epithets connected to particular stories about them).

Greek myths and legends were dynamic, belonging to a lived tradition of storytelling that was sometimes yoked to Greek religious cult, but also told at symposia (drinking parties), or as plays in the theatre, or to children in school, or by parents or nurses. And I do mean told, not read out of books. Thus, they could—and did—change over time. One of the more interesting examples of this can be seen in the “redemption” of Helen of Troy. In most early versions, she was equally guilty with Paris, choosing to run away with him, leaving her husband and daughter. But as time passed, the stories changed, suggesting she was raped, or even that she stayed in Egypt and never went to Troy. That latter was (likely) started by the lyric poet Stesichorus, then picked up by Herodotus and finally Euripides. Theatre often altered myth to tell the story a bit differently.

It’s not unlike fanfiction really.

Most myths and legends didn’t find any “fixed” form until the later Classical and Hellenistic Eras. That change owed to the rise of academic “mythographers,” in places like Alexandria, who studied myth. Also, depictions of myth in art on frequently visited buildings—such as the labors of Herakles on Zeus’s temple at Olympia—resulted in popular ossification from the Classical period. In the Archaic period and earlier, not just how the labors went varied, but even which were included in the twelve. But the construction of that temple with the labors depicted on the metopes “decided” them. (Pictured below is one of those metopes.)

That said, we still find multiple versions of stories out there. There’s no agreement on how Ariadne died—or if she died (Dionysos’s mortal wife). Aphrodite is variously the daughter of Zeus by Dione (so Homer), or the daughter of Ouranos when Kronos cut off his balls and tossed them in the Sea (so Hesiod). And myth was still changing down into the Hellenistic and Roman period. The story of Eros and Psyche is Roman, or at least Hellenistic.

So the answer to your question is that, yes, of course the Greeks had horror stories, some of which went on to become very famous, like Medusa.

There were also local stories and even shrines and oracles that qualify as horror. The Lebadaian Oracle of Tryphonios supposedly scared people so badly, some were never the same after, and a few actually died of fright. The petitioner had to be lowered down into this cave, where scary things happened (not discussed), then brought back out, and whatever one babbled on the “throne of memory” was the oracle, recorded by a priest. Talk about a “Haunted Mansion”! Or haunted cave, as it were. “To descend into the cave of Trophonios” was even a Greek saying for having the piss scared out of you.

Similarly, before it turned into a tourist attraction in the late Hellenistic and Roman Era, there was a youths rite for Artemis Ortheia in Sparta, probably involving torches and masks in the sanctuary at night. One can see why Sparta might find useful a ceremony designed to scare the bejesus out of young men, to test bravery.

The initiation rite in Dancing with the Lion at the end of Book 1 Becoming has some fear elements mystery initiations often had, meant to simulate the fear one faced at death. These mystery rites had stories attached. The murder of toddler Dionysos is pretty horrible.

Likewise, the Rape of Persephone is an ancient Blue Beard equivalent story that spoke to the fears of young women (and their mothers) before marriage. It would eventually transform into the Eleusian Rites, probably a local Thesmophoria that became panhellenic.

There are lots of stories about witches (like Circe and various Thessalian Witches), too.

If you (or others) have an interest in the darker side of Greek myth and religion, I’d recommend picking up Daniel Ogden’s Magic, Witchcraft, and Ghosts in the Greco-Roman World. It’s a reader, or sourcebook, so he gives passages from the ancient sources themselves on various topics from witches and ghosts to raising the dead (necromancy), weird oracles, etc. I use it in my Greek Myth, Religion, and Magic class. 😊 He’s also got a book on Greek and Roman Necromancy, Drakon: Dragon Myth and Serpent Cult in the Greek and Roman Worlds, and Night’s Black Agents: Witches, Wizards, and the Dead in the Ancient World. Daniel does a lot with Alexander (and Macedonia) but also writes copiously on Greek religion, especially its less publicly acceptable manifestations.

---------------------------

*This has a parallel in their attitude towards sex: what you DO, not who you do, or what you believe about your “sexual orientation,” which wasn’t even a thing. I like to point to these parallel approaches as it helps give a larger sense of Greek culture.

[ibijau]

Number 13 for otp prompts with sect leader Yao and sect leader ouyang :)

This took way too much effort to write and so dear anon, I hate you a little for it, but my pride is intact, I wrote the thing!

cql-verse

In the end, there is some small comfort to be found in meeting an old, familiar face in the halls of Carp Tower, even if the circumstances could hardly be worse. Sect Leader Yao is grateful when Sect Leader Ouyang comes to check on him and his injuries. 

That it happens several times in the days that follow is a testament to Sect Leader Ouyang's loyalty to his friends. Among the many people who have run to Lanling for help, Sect Leader Ouyang is the only one who spares a thought for Sect Leader Yao, now that his sect is no more. The only person to come see him is Jiang Fengmian's daughter, a dull girl who must only try to escape political discussions she cannot understand. 

Sect Leader Yao would give anything for a chance to join those same discussions, but his health does not yet allow it, and his status even less so. A man with only two disciples left can hardly be called a sect leader, his opinion is without value. 

Still, Sect Leader Ouyang keeps him updated each time he visits, and as soon as Sect Leader Yao's health allows, takes him for a walk to the gardens. 

That walk takes them to an isolated spot where they sometimes sneaked off to when they were young and forced to accompany their fathers at discussion conferences. To make the nostalgia worse, Sect Leader Ouyang even brought wine, for which Sect Leader Yao is grateful. He's been wanting to get drunk since the moment he fully realised just how much he lost.

"And still nobody will rise against the Wens," Sect Leader Ouyang grumbles. "They're saying it was a misunderstanding. They're all just glad it was you and not them. Only that Nie idiot is calling for repercussions, but he's been doing that for years." 

Sect Leader Yao nods, and takes a sip of wine straight from the jar. The sun rises, water flows, Nie Mingjue wants to kill the Wens so he doesn't have to accept his father was just crazy. 

"Wouldn't be like that if it had been a great sect they attacked," Sect Leader Yao grumbles.

"They attacked the Lans and nobody cared," Sect Leader Ouyang points out, leaning against his side, like they did when they were young. 

"That hardly counted as an attack. Even killing Qingheng-Jun… Did you even know he was still alive? Thought the man was dead with his wife. I'd heard he killed himself over her corpse and the Lans just wouldn't admit it."

"I heard that he found her in bed with his brother," Sect Leader Ouyang announces, grabbing the wine. "So he killed her, and dumped the sect on Lan Qiren as punishment. I've heard both the boys are Lan Qiren's, and that's why he won't marry. Doesn't need to, he's sure already that his sons will inherit the sect." 

That makes sense, so it must be true, Sect Leader Yao figures. 

"He wasn't half bad looking as a youth," he admits. "The beard was a mistake though. He doesn't have the face for it." 

"Not everyone is as lucky as us. It takes effort to look this dignified." 

The sound that comes out of Sect Leader Yao's throat is very nearly a giggle. He blames it on the wine, and on the company. He used to like it a lot when Sect Leader Ouyang complimented, back before they became sect leaders and had to be serious. Life was better back then, when they didn't have wives to bother them, when the Wens protected small sects from the great ones, and they could Night Hunt together all they liked. 

"Come to Baling with your boys," Sect Leader Ouyang suddenly offers, passing him back the jar of wine. "Until it's safe to go home and start recruiting again. I wouldn't mind the company, either. My wife is insufferable since she's become pregnant, I'd like to have someone sensible to talk to instead of putting up with all her gossip."

"Women talk too much," Sect Leader Yao agrees. "You sure she wouldn't mind having me and the boys around?" 

"Why would she mind? It's my house, my sect. She can go complain to her mother if she doesn't like that, it won't change a thing. I won't abandon a friend in need." 

Sect Leader Yao can't help laughing, remembering times of their youth when they helped each other when the need arose. Sect Leader Ouyang looks at him with a puzzled expression, then joins in the laughter when he figures out the cause of that hilarity, shoving Sect Leader Yao and cursing him for his dirty mind. 

Everything is different these days, but at least some things dont change.

[dany-is-my-queen]

Born To Be Yours | Part III

Sansa Stark x Fem! Baretheon! Reader (Daenerys Targaryen x Fem! Baratheon! Reader eventually)

Season 1-8

Word Count: 1,785

Pt. 1 Pt.2 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9

Another tournament was organized. Your father insisted on participate, luckily Lord Stark convinced him otherwise. Who would dare challenge the King of the Seven Kingdoms?

You were sitting exactly like the first occasion but Cersei was absent. She never really enjoy those kind of events, not that they were your favorite either. This time was The Mountain against one of your best friends, Ser Loras of House Tyrell. A very charming man.

“That is a very pretty dress, Myrcella.” You told your little sister. Your gaze directed to the northern girl.

“You like it?” She grinned contemplating at her golden and costly gown. Yours was very similar.

“I do, my lioness.”

Ser Loras approached the redhead giving her a red rose. She gladly accepted and you remember she told you how much she loved knights. He was way more kind than Joffrey. But you knew the Tyrell boy has an affair with uncle Renly, actually, you were the only person who knew their secret. Although here in the capital people’s secrets are never safe.

After The Hound defended the Knight of the Flowers, Ser Gregor left furious. All the applauses were towards him. Later that day you were on your chambers, sparring on your own.

“Y/N, how many times have I told you I don’t like you to be playing with a sword.” The blonde woman nagged.

“Not enough.” You turned to her.

“It’s dangerous. I don’t want you to get hurt.” You took a deep breath.

“Father says it’s for my own good.”

“You have a lot of him in you.”

“Not the eyes. Mine are just like yours.” You scoffed.

“You have Robert’s stubbornness.” She pointed.

“That bothers you? Where is uncle Tyrion? Have you got a word from him?”

“He is a prisoner of Lady Stark.” How can she say it so casual?

“What?! Why??”

“Conspiracy. They assume he hired someone to murder their little son.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. He is not known for being a child killer. What will happen now?”

“Jaime is trying to get him back. We expect the Starks to return him safe and sound to the capital. Practice your needlework. That is more appropriate for a princess to do.” She declared and walked out. You rolled your eyes, resuming your moves.

“Father, you wanted to see me?” He raised his cup and order you to sit on the small table.

“I’m getting old. You, my daughter, are getting better on your fencing. I am proud to see what you are becoming, a hell of a woman! Not a girl anymore. Never let a man commands you. You were born a leader, not a follower. Always remember that.” He gulped, offering you some wine. You like the taste but not the feeling if you drink too much.

“I have your strength, courage and of course, your charisma.” You admitted.

“Indeed. What about you marry Edd’s son? Robb is his name if I recall correctly. I wanted to join our houses. Baratheon and Stark, finally together. Without a fucking Targaryen getting in the way. But Y/N, I want you to live a happy life. Not a loveless marriage like the one your mother and I have. When you are to be wed, choose your partner wisely and never let anyone take them away from you.” You knew when your father was being serious, sorrow written all over his face.

“I can’t start a war if that happens. Thank you, father. I will listen to you. Joffrey and Sansa will rule someday, I hope it’s in a very long time, though. I’m not able to fully understand what you lost when Lady Lyanna was stolen from you. I can’t imagine the pain and frustration you felt. I am sorry.” You looked at him with a sympathetic smile.

“Not more than I am. The only good thing about the outcome was you and your siblings. Even Joffrey. You are way better than him, in every aspect. Cersei always treated you less. But you are my princess.” The bearded man said with nothing but the truth.

“I don’t know what to do. What is expected of me.” You lower your head.

“Don’t worry, child. One of the seven heavens has a plan for you. You are young, beautiful and smart. You are the princess of Westeros. The world shall be as you desire. Don’t worry about that now.” You stood up and hugged him tightly. In that moment you felt safe from any danger, safe even from your mother.

“Lord Varys. What news?” You were walking at a slow pace outside the Throne Room. “You know I only want to help my father make the right choices.” Lord Bealish is not the only one that whispers in your ear, the Eunuch trusts you. Almost everyone does. You’ve never used the intel they tell you to do something wrong. You could never.

“Yes I know, my friend. Daenerys Targaryen.” He sighed. “She is pregnant with Khal Drogo’s child. She’s a threat along with Viserys. I’m certain it’s not a rumor. The King wants her dead, he insists.”

“Thank you for sharing this information with me, my lord.” He bowed his head, turning to the opposite direction.

“How are things in Highgarden?” You asked your old friend.

“Quiet. My grandmother and sister send their regards. They miss you.” The curled man said.

“I’ll go visit soon.”

“Perhaps you could bring your new friend, she’s quite a beauty.” When you opened your mouth to answer a knock from the door caught your attention

“My Princess. Lady Arya is nowhere to be found.”

“I want every single one of my guards searching out for her. When you locate her take her immediately to Lord Eddard. Please.” The young man nodded.

After a few hours, the little wolf appeared. “Oh, Arya! You are okay. Where have you been?”

“I got lost. Thanks for worrying. I’m fearful... for my father.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’ve heard they plan to kill him.” She almost whispered.

“Who?”

“I don’t know. The King will protect him, right?” She asked with preoccupation in her voice.

“Of course, Arya.” She hugged you. The last Hand, Jon Arryn, he died because the fever took him, or did someone plan it? Now the Lord of Winterfell was in danger? A thousand scenarios began to run in your head.

You just received the jewel you asked to be made to the finest hand-crafter in King’s Landing, a gorgeous silver ring with House Stark sigil. The wolf in the middle was discreet yet visible. A perfect gift for a perfect lady. You were excited to deliver it so you head to find her. Someone got earlier. You didn’t speak right away.

“Would you forgive me, for my rudeness?” At least he was apologizing.

“There is nothing to forgive.” She was stuttering.

“One day we’ll be married. I’ll never disrespect you again. I’ll never be cruel to you again. Do you understand me?” You are my lady now. From this day until my last day.” Your heart ached at the thought of it. But it’s something you already knew. Seeing them together was different.

“My Princess.” You were about to turn around when Septa Mordane greeted you.

“I... I didn’t mean to interrupt. I didn’t know you were with Lady Sansa.” Joffrey eyed you with his usual sulky expression.

“Leave us alone, sister.” He hissed.

“My lady.” You just bowed your head completely embarrassed.

You called for the tall girl to be escorted to your chambers. “I intended to give you this yesterday. I’m sorry for running into you when you were occupied.”

“It’s alright. It’s beautiful!” She had a wide smile as you put the ring on her index finger.

“I see Joffrey gave you a necklace.” You noticed the golden piece. She took it and nodded.

“Yes. It’s like the one you wear.”

“My mother and Myrcella have one identical. It suits you.”

“That’s what he said. I will be his queen someday.” She excited exclaimed.

“Yes, you will.” Your heart was aching again.

“The ring is lovely. Thank you, princess.” The Northerner admired it happily.

“Now you have something to remember the North. I had it made especially for you. You are very welcome.” You smiled warmly at her.

“Y/N, you’ll be joining the hunt.” Your father stated.

“With pleasure.” You’ve always loved to go hunting, it was not a boring activity for you at all. You gather your weapons. Your skills were good, though every time you go to the wild you learn something new.

You were deep in the woods, a bow in your hand. Your father was carrying a spear. Ser Barristan and uncle Renly joined too.

“Father, don’t kill the Targaryen girl. I understand why you need to do it. Don’t see it as an act of honor but of mercy. She’s innocent. They are far away from King’s Landing. You are not a butcher. Don’t send anyone to hunt her down. More so if she’s carrying a baby inside her.”

“You and Ned so honorable. Maybe you are right. Little girls don’t frighten me.” You were relieved when you heard him say that. There is hope for them. “You weren’t a man till you fucked one girl of each of the Seven Kingdoms and the Riverlands. We used to call it “making the eight.” He giggled.

“Those were some lucky girls.” The youngest Baratheon brother said without a bit of excitement.

“Y/N! I suppose it counts for the boys too.” You smirked and nudged your uncle. “Those were the days.” The smile fell from his lips. Now he was angry.

“What days exactly? The ones were half of Westeros fight the other half and millions died. Or before that, when the Mad King slaughtered women and babies cause the voices in his head told him they deserved it. Or way before that, when dragons burnt whole cities to the ground.” He spat.

“Easy, boy. You might be my brother but you’re speaking to the king.” The black-haired man warned.

“More wine, your grace?” Lancel nervously offered.

“Father, you should slow down with the booze, it can make you feel dizzy and to hunt you need to stay focus.” You declared.

“Oh my dear daughter, I’d done this a million times. Wine is my preferred ally.” He said.

It all happened so fast, Robert missed his thrust and was seriously injured by a boar, he was very drunk to be concentrated. When you, Ser Barristan and Renly tried to help it was too late. You arrived from the Kingswood with him almost unconscious. All the way back you were quivering. Fearing for your father’s life.

[westerhos]

Our Story: Chapter 5

Here marks the middle of our tale, that vast, perilous land between the beginning and the end. The going is treacherous in these parts—the wayward couple must heal on their own, tread the sea of two decades with arms and souls akimbo—but still, it is not unnecessary. The middle is never aimless. Always, always, it has one goal: the ending.

When the lights go up and the curtains close, you clap—perhaps, should the couple reunite (which, of course, they will), you shout “Encore, encore!” But then, at last, you return to your car. You catch the train, or you grab a taxi. At last, having started at the beginning and waded through the middle, you reach the final destination. The night is over; you go home.

Home. Whether a place, a person, a feeling, or a thing—it does not matter. Home is always the goal and the ending, the northernmost star we pray to and walk towards.

[December 24th, 1996]

Two weeks’ vacation in a cabin, tucked deep inside a fold of mountains. Here, amongst the stretches of living nothingness, even the silence has a voice. Owls hoot in the night. The pines’ chatter, their needle-whispers pierced by caws and shifted air—a hawk swooping to ensnare her prey. And if one listens closely enough, one can hear the hunter's a shaky, traitorous breath, which launches the doe across the snow—the echo of his heartsong, the drum to which the doe’s hooves beat. Come back, come back, come back.

This is why Jamie has come here: for the endless conversation between man and mountain, more steadfast than the chill in his heart. In the past four years, Jamie has sold the twin cot (it lies in a salvage yard somewhere, all broken springs and dreams). A different couple has moved into the studio, and when they had spoken of paint jobs—“Perhaps mint green, what d’ye say, hon?”— Jamie had thought, Thank God. He’d happily offered them the keys when they turned to him, pupils dilated with youthful optimism. By that point, there was no space for Jamie and Claire inside that Edinburgh Eden, and so he’d chimed in, “Aye, a bonny color.” (Indeed, the walls are mint now, though a forgotten strip of marigold shines in the northern corner.)

For two years, Jamie has lived with Murtagh in Glasgow, having shed not just his home but his editorial career in publishing. He has grown tired of fixing other’s mistakes—too many of his own in need of correction—and so here he sits on this Christmas Eve, writing towards redemption.

The Grampians are a peaceful place, big hulks of rock scattered with trees—bouquets of fir, oak, and pine cradling other cabins. At dark, their windows flicker, candlelit with the dreams of the aspiring novelists, essayists, playwrights therein. Men and women, all bowed before the cleansing hum of nature’s speech. Like Jamie, they had seen the fliers: WRITER’S RETREAT, TWO WEEKS IN THE MOUNTAINS—and so it was. They were small colony taking its temporary leave, hoping to reconstruct the world according to their own, more favorable terms.

Over supper, the group gathers and shares their ideas: outlines, pieces of dialogue, an inspiring poem they’ve loved since childhood. And while Jamie is generous with his advice, he holds his notebooks against his chest. Enraptured by this warm aloofness (for is it not the way of all great wordsmiths?), the others whisper behind their palms, “Have you read Fraser’s story?” Into napkins, “No, have you?”

But among the fifteen guests, only one has read Jamie’s story—and tonight, Jamie waits for her inside his cabin. His latest draft is fanned around him, some sections highlighted and others slashed. They are not unlike Claire’s old strike-throughs, which had snipped the would-be Dalhousie and eventually, Jamie’s own name, from her life (a reclamation of Beauchamp, a transformation to Randall). Among Jamie’s scribbles are his friend’s edits, which are much more forgiving, much less forceful than the lines of his own red pen. Each comment reads like a bashful request: “More clarity?”, “Switch the verb here?”, “Too many adjectives?” as if she needs permission to occupy the margins. Should I really be reading this?, she seems to say, the bare-backed rawness making her squirm.

But she is helping him, his friend. And so she sees Jamie’s drafts before John, his agent, and before Fergus, his assistant and most loyal advocate. With each comment, she brings him closer to understanding, to the better beginning, middle and end. Note by note, to the way his story (their story, for it can never be Jamie’s alone) should be. All rhymes and logic, had it not veered off-course.

Is Alexander too cold here? Shouldn’t he say something? (He should have.)

It seems out of character for Alexander to never visit his daughter’s grave? (Grief carves cowards out of heroes.)

Shouldn’t he try to win Elizabeth back? (God, yes. He should have tried harder.)

The knock comes three minutes later, as expected.

“Hello?”

“Door’s unlocked.”

“Oh!” A muffled apology, embarrassment for the delay. “Sorry,” the visitor says. “It’s late. Didna ken if ye still wanted to talk or not. I brought—well, I finished reading your last chapter.”

And now another player enters this fifth act, tip-toes quietly onto the stage. Only a slip of a thing in the cabin’s doorway, cheeks pinked by the storm’s sharp nip. She is Jamie’s friend-slash-critique partner, and even her entrance is punctuated by a question mark. The score of owl, pine, hawk and hunter swells, buffeted now by new notes: the crack of chapped lips smiling, the anxious shuffle of papers, and—

“Dinna fash, I couldna sleep anyways,” Jamie assures her. “Did ye like it, though? The new ending?”

His friend inhales sharply, stealing as much oxygen as the room will allow. Everything—the threadbare futon, the TV’s antennae, the welcome mat and Jamie’s body—bends towards some invisible presence. A ghost between between all.

“It was…a bit different from the last one.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘Nay, I didna like it.’”

She looks shyly at the ground, one foot treading nervous circles into the planks.

“It was a bit too sentimental is all. After everything. All that time and silence…D’ye really think Alex and Lizzie could make it?”

Her words are a blow to Jamie’s stomach, and the pages are fire in his hands. He puts them down, wants to thrust himself under a blanket of snow to freeze the flames.

“In a fairy tale, maybe, but life isna a fairy tale. And d’ye no want to write truths?” She looks up, and her eyes gore him. “This story isna a fairy tale either, Jamie. Yours never are.”

“Aye…aye, I s’pose they’re not,” he replies, thinking of his other novels and short stories, essays and poems. Each accepted by John’s gimlet eye, only to meet their end in a publisher’s slush pile. (“Too dark, too wallowing,” an editor once wrote.)  

“Give it another go. I’ll help ye tomorrow, if ye’d like,” his friend offers. “Three days left. I reckon we’ve time to sort the kinks, right the wrongs.” (Three days will never be enough for Jamie’s wrongs.)

“I’d appreciate that, lass. Verra much.”

His friend looks behind her and at the moon, a shy sickle in the sky. It draws her toward the door and the snow-covered mountainside.

“Weel, it’s a long walk back,” she says. “Wanted to give ye that before the morning, so I guess I’ll just…”

“Will ye stay with me tonight?” Jamie blurts. And he hates himself for saying this, the way it sounds outside his mouth and inside his cabin, landing on the unmade bed. Its despair makes it ugly. But.

But if his friend stays, Jamie thinks, perhaps the emptiness will leave. If his friend stays, perhaps his story will correct itself, falling into its natural rhythm, by the force of whatever solace she can give him.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” he continues, “and I…I dinna want to be alone.”

She pauses, thinks it over before saying, “Okay. Just for a bit?” (Just for a bit? Another loaded question, and one he doesn’t want to answer.)

“Thank you,” Jamie whispers, and Mary McNab removes her coat.

____

Long before daybreak, Jamie wakes. He gathers his draft, made complete by that final failing chapter, into a single stack. He retrieves a box from his suitcase, which is swathed in his old holiday sweater, and it speaks to him. A quiet loudness, like the murmur of the Grampians. You mean your lager-stained pullover? With the Santa looks that looks like he’s got vomit in his beard?

Inside the box is a gift—a vase, azure porcelain—though Jamie has no plans to send it across the Atlantic, to the Boston apartment where his ex-wife kisses another man. No. This vase will stay with Jamie, forever hidden on the high shelf of a closet, or exiled to the back corner of a desk drawer. Like his grief, it is something that he owns—this small cut from a cloth of unraveled dreams—to be kept and locked safely away. There, there, always there. All fancy people have vases.

Jamie wraps the box with his manuscript. One by one, he folds the pages over and under, seals the edges with tape to form an inch-thick layer. So much history around this small, delicate thing—their story, with the ending Jamie cannot use and which cannot be the truth. At last, he cuts the string of wool, which still drips from his sweater after all these years, and it rasps, Do we have time? Of course we do.

Finally, Jamie weeps—a mournful sound that joins the chorus of this great, big mountain—and ties a frayed, red bow.

____

(Jamie does not realize that Mary watches him from the bed. “Tell me about her,” she wants to say—for once a statement and not a question—but she does not. Instead, she calls to Jamie, presses her goosefleshed nakedness to his. And as they move together, slow but unfeeling, she pretends she is a vessel. Closes her eyes. Makes room for the ghost. I’m Claire Beauchamp. Just plain Claire Beauchamp.)

____

Here, the idea of a writer’s retreat, the introduction, and the parentheticals (although those are also inspired by one of my favorite authors Kate Atkinson) are my lame attempts at trying to be Lauren Groff. Actually, the next handful of chapters are the result of my obsession with her novel Fates and Furies—which you should absolutely go read, right now.

One of my favorite parts about writing a modern AU is finding ways to fit in canon characters or references. I started this chapter having no idea who Jamie’s critique partner was, but it very quickly came together once there was a remote cabin, Jamie inside it, and a woman coming to visit him. I hope the reveal is at least somewhat...fun? The vase is also obviously a nod to Outlander, and, well, I’m assuming y’all caught on to Jamie’s character names (a bit on the nose, lmao).

I’m not crazy about this introduction (it’s...a bit much...but it’s meant to tie into the introduction of Chapter 1), but the final paragraph from Mary’s POV is actually one of my favorite paragraphs in the whole fic.

I also think I wrote this during a snowstorm, wheeeee!

[thesoobfiles]

your highness – a. skywalker

Jealous! Anakin x Queen! Reader

Request: anon, could we get a jealous! anakin imagine?

Words: 4k

Summary: Reader is the queen of the alien planet, Roe’ Leor, a planet very rich in natural resources and starship fuel. It was previously a neutral system; however, the Republic has finally roped them in. In celebration and in honor of their alliance, the Queen has thrown a formal party to recognize this new friendship. Invitations extend to the royal family, the royal guard, royal officials as well as the staff, Republic Senators and the Jedi of course. After Ani’s met the Queen and after the dancing begins, Anakin gets jealous when he sees her dancing with another man…

A/N: I’ve been experiencing the BIGGEST writers block and lack of time to write and I’m SO sorry this took so long. I also had trouble trying to think of something that isn’t overplayed like jedi! reader and senator! reader... I’ve had this in my drafts for a week now and I apologize I haven’t published it until now... I hope it was worth the wait though :) A couple things I want to point out: 1) Roe’ Leor is a production of my imagination; it’s not a real planet in the Star War universe, 2) I imagine the handmaiden with a soft British accent, 3) you don’t really get to fill in a lot because you’re an alien and your skin color, eye color, etc. is already pre-determined, 4) the Roe’ Leor culture is like a mix of Indian and Haiwaiian (certain thinks like names and outfits) and 5) this Anakin is kind of like a mix between rots! Anakin and tcw! Anakin. I’m sorry I talk so much and enjoy! ~

-

I look out of my large bedroom window as my handmaiden, Lei, prepares me for the event tonight. I just love the blues and purples that color the sky when the suns set…

“I do as well, my lady.” Lei speaks up. I jump slightly at the sudden sound.

“I hadn’t realized I said that aloud…” I said, distractedly.

“Well, I’m glad you did, your majesty. The sound of your voice is always lovely to hear, no matter the scarcity.” She replies with a small smile on her face. I smile back at her. What a wonderful girl…

The thing about being Queen is I’m not allowed to speak, only under specific circumstances like negotiations. Hearing my voice should be ‘a privilege’. I think it’s nonsense; but until my request goes through Leadership, I must adhere to the rules…

Lei adjusts the pallu part of the sari and places the traditional red flower behind my ear. She spins me around to look in the full-length mirror and I smile. She always does such excellent work making sure I look presentable. I look at Lei in the mirror and whisper a ‘thank you’ in our native tongue.

“You are quite welcome, your highness.” She smiles and bows before leaving my presence.

I look in the mirror once more and really take in my appearance. The amber color of the sari and petticoat really compliments my green eyes and the vermillion of the choli, fine stitching and border look exquisite against my light orange skin. To top the whole look off, my hair is loose, free to fall in waves upon my shoulders. Luckily, it doesn’t take too much away from the golden jewelry that adorns my body; the delicate necklace hanging upon my neck and the simple, yet elegant bangles that slip towards my wrist. If there’s one thing I love about being Queen, it’s the fun I have while dressing up.

When I’m done admiring Lei’s handiwork, I straighten my back and head for the main room of the palace; where the event is being held.

Outside my door, as I expected, are two of my most trusted bodyguards – who double as my governesses – to escort me; however, what I didn’t expect was for a women from Leadership waiting for me as well. I bow politely and she bows back.

“Your grace, I’ve come before you to inform you that your request has been received and approved.” She says with a relaxed expression and a small smile.

“That’s wonderful. Thank you for bringing me this information.” I reply, beyond jovial as a smile breaks out on my face.

“It was my pleasure, your majesty. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” She bows and leaves me with my escorts.

Overjoyed that I can now speak as I please, I hug both of them.

“Alani, Kaila, I never thought I’d see the day.” I express my extreme happiness with the information I just received.

“We’re happy for you, your highness.” Alani replies with a smile on her face.

“We’re glad your request went through successfully.” Kaila says as she pats my back.

I give them another squeeze before I straighten up, dust off my sari and clear my throat.

“C’mon ladies, we have a party to attend.”

As I walk forwards, Alani and Kaila follow suit. We make a beeline for the balcony area of the staircase and wait just behind the doorway for my cue to enter. I can already hear the noise of my guests and the party started but a few minutes ago.

- 15 minutes earlier –

“Halt.” A guard in front of the palace stops us.

“Names.” She demands and she looks at her scroll.

“Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight.” I say in a nonchalant tone and flash her my invitation. She looks at me, at the invitation and at her scroll. She nods and looks at Obi-Wan.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master.” He says politely as he too shows his invitation. The guard nods and I proceed to make my way inside only to walk into her arm. I look up at her.

“Is there a problem?” I ask, eyebrow raised in hopes of getting some answers.

“You must change your attire before entering the Queen’s palace.” She responds. Before I could open my mouth to ask my question, a women that appears to be a handmaiden approaches us with clothing in hand. Then, it dawned on me.

“This would explain why we were measured last week.” Obi-Wan voiced my thoughts as he takes his suit and I take mine.

“You may change your clothing in the rooms to the left.” She states with an authoritative tone and resumes her duties as the guard; checking the next guests invitation.

Obi-Wan and I head over to a small shack.

“Doesn’t look like much.” I comment on the rough exterior of the ‘building’.

Obi-Wan chuckles, “Wait until you see inside.” I furrow my eyebrows in confusion and push the door open. My eyes widened at the sight before me. The outside is an injustice to the interior. It was magnificently structured and much larger on the inside. The small palace was completely empty except for four decently-sized ‘rooms’ in the middle of the structure.

“Never judge a book by its cover, Anakin; Leori technology isn’t anything to bat your eyes at.” He says condescendingly as he goes to change.

“Yes, master.” I reply as I walk over to the changing ‘room’. Can it even be called a room? All of the ‘walls’ are made of curtains.

I walk inside and shed the many layers of my Jedi robes along with my boots, belt and lightsaber.

“What do you know about this party, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asks from his changing ‘room’.

“The Queen of Roe’ Leor has thrown this party has an act of goodwill to celebrate the alliance between the Republic and Roe’ Leor.” I say, repeating the words of the Jedi Council from earlier that week.

I gingerly pull on the blue button-up and thin black jacket that accompanies it.

“Have you ever met her?” He asks.

“The Queen? No. I hear it’s a privilege to even hear her speak much less be in her presence.” I recall from one of the many briefings on Leori culture.

I slide on the black slacks as well as the black pointed shoes and clip my lightsaber to one of the belt loop of the pants. I walk out the same time Obi-Wan does.

I look at him and raise my eyebrow to accompany my smirk, “Don’t you clean up nicely, master.” I say in a joking manner. Obi-Wan is dressed in similar clothing, just with different colors. His button up is a light brown while his suit jacket, pants and shoes are all a darker shade of the same color; like his Jedi robes.

He rolls his eyes at my comment then makes his way out of the shack and over to the entrance. I walk behind him and we walk back over to the guard.

She looks us up and down, “Proceed.” She says after she recognizes us and deems our outfits acceptable.

We walk inside and look around. Music similar to what was playing in Hondo’s bar plays softly in the background as the people make conversation. I notice that some members of the Jedi Council, such as Mace Windu and Plo Koon have already arrived and have switched their usual attire for suits. The majority of the people in attendance are Leori; however I do spot the occasional Senator and Jedi.

“Did you know that Roe’ Leor is predominantly female and that’s why they have a Queen instead of a King?” Obi-Wan pipes up from beside me as he examines the room and takes a bite of food from his plate.

“I did not…” I trail off and instead of looking at their species, I look at their gender and notice he’s right. The majority of the Leori are women. The men only seem to be caterers and the occasional official.

A horn of some sort is blown from the balcony of the staircase. The attendees quiet down and move their attention to a small girl, no more than the age of a youngling.

“Please welcome her royal highness, Queen (L/N).” She says in a high-pitched voice as ‘Queen (L/N)’ emerges from the doorway on the left. She looks…magnificent. She’s younger than I expected her to be.

The yellow and red of her sari compliments her skin well. She strolls over to the balcony and stands between her two bodyguards elegantly. Applause erupts from the crowd. Both guards hold a hand out and the applause ceases.

“Good evening, people of Roe’ Leor and representatives of the Republic. As you all know, I’ve thrown this party to celebrate our newfound friendship with the Republic. I hope you enjoy your evening as well as make friends with our new partners.” She finishes and descends down the stairs. Thunderous applause erupts once more from the people in attendance.

“I thought the Queen wasn’t allowed to speak?” I ask Obi-Wan with confusion, never taking my eyes off of her.

“Must have been a recent change in their rules…” Obi-Wan mused, stroking his beard.

“Oh.” I respond simply as I take notice that the bodyguard’s leave Queen (L/N)’s side as she greets some politicians. She talks with them for a short amount of time before she scans the room and her eyes on land on me.

-

I bow as I finish my conversation with Senator Poli and Representative Jeeloy. I’ve made it my goal to introduce myself to every Republic attendee as to become familiar with one another and explain the new rule put into place by Leadership. I look around the large space and my eyes land on a rather handsome young man who already appears to be staring in my direction. I suppose I’ve found my next conversation.

I walk over to him and his eyes never leave me. A regular man would have already looked away in fear or insecurity; an interesting specimen indeed…

“Good evening gentlemen.” I say as I bow before the young man and his slightly older companion.

Now that I’m within a closer proximity, the young man is quite attractive for a Jedi. He has dirty blonde hair that falls in waves at his shoulders. His eyes are a blue so magnificent, I’ve only ever seen it in the majestic waves of our ocean. His skin is a flawless tan color and his lips look as plush as a pillow.

“My name is Anakin Skywalker, but you can call me Anakin, your highness.” The young man, Anakin, says as he bows. He grabs my hand and places a chaste kiss upon it. I can already feel my heart racing at his actions. He releases my hand, but he never takes his striking blue eyes off of me.

“Your majesty, Obi-Wan Kenobi.” The older man, Obi-Wan, also bows.

“May I say, both of your names are quite unique?” I comment on the names they’ve given me.

“Thank you, my lady. May I ask yours?” Anakin questions me.

“(Y/N) (L/N)…”

“(Y/N)…” He whispers under his breath.

“…but no one every addresses me as such as it is customary to address me as ‘Queen (L/N)’ or other terms of respect including ‘your grace’, ‘your highness’, ‘your majesty’, ‘my lady’ and so forth...” I finish, matter-of-factly.

“Of course, my lady.” Anakin says as the mischievousness of a thousand younglings cross his eyes.

“How are you enjoying the party so far, Mr. Kenobi?” I ask, shifting my attention to his friend as the look he’s giving me makes my heart beat a little too fast for my taste.

“Please, Obi-Wan, your majesty. We are partners, not strangers.” He corrects me.

I nod in return, “Of course, Obi-Wan.” He continues.

“I must say, you’ve thrown a lovely party.” He comments as he scans the crowd.

“Thank you; do you like the food?” I ask, looking at both Anakin and Obi-Wan this time, “I heard many of these foods are popular on Coruscant, the Republic capital...”

“The food is excellent, your grace. Nothing to worry about.” He says reassuringly with a small smile.

“Wonderful.” I reply, returning his smile. “Before I forget, if you’ve been briefed on our culture, you’ll know I’m not normally permitted to speak; however, a change in the rules have been made by both Leadership and myself.” I say, clearing up any confusion if there was any.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me…” I begin.

“Obi-Wan,” I say while nodding in his direction, “Anakin.” I look in his direction.

“I must acquaint myself with the other patrons.” I bow.

“Of course, your highness.” Obi-Wan replies.

“Don’t let us distract you from your royal duties.” Anakin comments with a smile. I smile back and start walking to find the next Jedi or Senator.

- 30 minutes later –

After half an hour of walking and talking, I think I need a break. I pull a chair from one of the many tables in the hall and take a seat. I take a deep breath and exhale.

I’ve already spoken with all of the members of the Jedi Council, 8 Jedi Knights and their padawans and 300 congressmen and women and that’s not even half.

The dancing will begin shortly, so I hope I get to rest my feet for just a few minutes…

Not too long into my relaxing, I hear two chairs being pulled out. I take a deep breath, straighten my posture and put on a smile. I look up to see Kaila and Alani slumped in their chairs. I break out into a real smile and relax my shoulders.

“Hello ladies, you guys look as exhausted as I am and it hasn’t even been an hour.” I joke.

Kaila laughs exhaustedly, “Do you know how many touchy Senators we’ve had to shoo away from the poor female attendees? That Orn Free Taa? Too touchy for my liking…” I laugh.

“The men of the Republic need etiquette.” Alani agrees with closed eyes.

“Perhaps not all of them…” I say quietly. At my addition, both Kaila and Alani open their eyes and straighten up excitedly, forgetting their exhaustion.

“Oh?” Kaila asks with a smirk. I now realize my addition was a mistake; not only are Alani and Kaila my caretakers, but they are also my best friends and unfortunately love gossip.

“Do tell of the well-mannered men you’ve encountered this evening.” Alani urges with her elbows on the table and her hands underneath her chin.

“Well…” I start, going through my evening so far, “Senator Organa and Senator Farr were very polite, unlike the Senators you’ve had to deal with.” I counter with triumph.

“I’ve also met multiple Jedi who were nothing but well-mannered and polite.”

“Like who?” Kaila pushed.

“Like-like Master Mace Windu.” I reply, “Master Yoda and Master Obi-Wan Kenobi…”

“…and Anakin Skywalker.” I finish off quiet, voice uneven. Just saying his name makes my voice waver. I’ve never met a man who’s had this kind of effect on me before…

“Anakin Skywalker…” Alani repeats, “If I remember correctly he came last week with Master Kenobi for his fitting…”

“A rather handsome young man…” Kaila repeats my words from earlier.

Suddenly, I hear the ringing of a single bell signifying the beginning of the first dance. I quickly stand up, “Excuse me!” I say quickly and loudly as I rush to the balcony. I’m not even out of earshot when I hear them giggling.

I take deep breaths to steady my heartrate while I climb the stairs. I reach the top and clear my throat and the audience quiets down.

“The ringing of the first bell indicates the first of two dances. For the first dance, Leori will dance with Leori and this is the same for the people of the Republic. This illustrates our situations before our alliance. For the second dance, it will be mixed. It is mandatory for a Leori to dance with someone of the Republic and vice-versa. This illustrates our situation after our alliance. You have 5 minutes to choose your partner if you wish to dance as the first dance is not mandatory.” I finish and descend the steps for the second time this evening.

I stop at the foot of the stairs and weigh my options. I could a) return to my table and get pestered about Anakin or b) women up and find a partner.

Before I decide what to do, a familiar voice cuts into my thoughts.

“It’s been a while, sis.” A male voice announces. I look to my right and see my older brother, (B/N), with his arms open.

A huge smile replaces my thoughtful look and I rush into his arms, “Brother! What are you doing here?” I ask excitedly and squeeze him.

He wheezes, “I could tell you if I could breathe.” He manages; I immediately release him, “Sometimes you don’t even recognize your own strength, (N/N).” He says using my childhood nickname as he rubs his sides.

“You forget, I married a Senator of the Republic after I refused the throne?” (B/N) reminds me; even though our planet is predominantly female, he is older and would have been next in line.

“Ah, yes. I was so busy with the preparation of the party. It slipped my mind…” I admit, “How have you been? Is the money I sent enough? Do you need more? If you do, I can-“

“(Y/N), calm down. I’m fine and the money you sent is enough; I don’t need anymore, trust me.” He reassures me, “We can catch up later; for now, may I have this dance…” He asks, extending his hand towards me. I raise my eyebrow at him.

“…your highness?” He adds. I smile, glad he hasn’t forgotten the ways of our people.

The horn sounds as the classical music played by the orchestra in the sound room begins to play over the speakers. The first dance has begun.

-

The music has started to play signifying the beginning of the first dance. I’ve decided to sit this one out as the only other person I really know, Padmé, already has a partner. I sit at a table and sip my flute of one of the lighter alcoholic beverages being severed; as a Jedi, I should always be on my toes.

I scan the crowd when my eyes land on the Queen, who appears to be dancing with a man at least half a foot taller then her. The man she’s dancing with is attractive, to say the least. He has elegant features and whatever he’s saying to her makes her laugh; a laugh most likely so scarce only a select group of people ever get to hear it.

What is he saying that’s so funny? I thought when I heard the shattering of my glass. I guess my jealously paired with my prosthesis isn’t necessarily a good mix. Luckily, my beverage only spilled into the plate below with few drops of it on the tablecloth. I disregard my drink and return my attention to the Queen. Her partner spins her and she seems to be having a great time. It’s hard to be jealous when she smiles like that…

My thoughts are cut off when the music stops. The two separate and they bow before the Queen ascends the stairs. She’s most likely announcing the second dance… I suppose that’s my cue; good thing I did my research...

-

“I hope you had a lovely time with your first partner; however, it is now time to choose your second. The second dance will begin shortly. You have 5 minutes to choose your next partner.” I announce and descend the stairs for, hopefully, the last time. I reach the foot of the stairs when a Senator approaches me.

“Would you like to dance, your majesty?” he asks.

“No thank you.” I respond politely. He nods and walks away. Another Senator walks up, one from Ryloth.

“Care to dance, your highness?” He asks with his hand extended in my direction.

“I’ll have to pass, Senator.” I reply. He looks at me and rolls his eyes as he walks away.

“Excuse me, my lady.” A voice intervenes; not a familiar voice, but one I’ve heard before. I turn around to be met with Anakin Skywalker.

“Anakin.” I say, hopefully.

He smiles at me, “May I have this dance…” He extends his hand to me, “…your highness?” I smile and rest my hand in is, “You may.”

The horn sounds again as another song plays over the speakers. Something along the lines of classical and tango; a rather interesting mix to describe the alliance between us.

“If I may, did you really know how to ask me to dance or was it luck?” I ask out of curiousity as he leads me to the dance floor. He grabs my hand with his right and places his left on my waist. He pulls me close and whispers in my ear, “I knew.” At this, my heartrate picks up once more.

He resume our dance at normal distance.

“Your grace, if I may, who were you dancing with earlier?” Anakin asks as we continue to glide across the floor.

“Oh, that was my brother, (B/N). Many think he’s given up his prince status, but he merely rejected king status and still remains crown prince of Roe’ Leor.” I inform him, thinking nothing of the question.

“I see. So, your majesty, are you aware of the dangers that come with being partnered with the Republic?”

“Yes. Since Roe’ Leor is no longer a neutral system, the Separatists will now target us given our change in position.”

“Have you increased your security?” He asks as he dips me.

“Tripled.” I respond as he lifts me back up.

“Has the Republic asked about outposts?

“Yes.”

“And your answer?”

“Anakin Skywalker, did you ask me to dance for business of for pleasure?” I ask, finally feeling more comfortable in his presence.

“Officially, business.” He responds as he spins me similar to how (B/N) spun me earlier.

“Unofficially?” I ask. He smiles at me and whispers in my ear with a sultriness that makes my heart melt, “Pleasure.” Then, as he dips me, the last note of the song is played.

He brings me back to a standing position.

“It was a pleasure dancing with you, Anakin Skywalker.” I say as I bow, still a little disoriented from his answer.

“Please,” he bows and grabs my hand similar to our first meeting, “the pleasure was mine.” and he kisses it.

“We’ll see more of each other in the future, your highness.” He gives me a jaunty salute then walks over to Obi-Wan.

Never in my life have I ever wanted a man so badly.

Little did I know, even though I made my comment internally, Anakin was still close enough to listen in on my thoughts and walked away with a smile on his face...

-

I leave the Queen to return to her queenly duties and walk over to Obi-Wan.

“You looked rather cozy dancing with the Queen.” He noted.

“Really? I didn’t notice…” I replied coyly.

“Let’s just hope that you haven’t ruined our friendship when it’s only just begun.” He states as he makes his way over to Master Yoda.

I smile and look back at the Queen and she’s talking to her bodyguards.

Farewell, your highness. Until our next meeting…

The Queen’s eyes widen and her attention is turned towards me. I smile at her and she smiles back.

Farewell, Anakin Skywalker. Until we meet again.

[werevulvi]

I wanted to write a bit about sex segregated spaces, in regards to people who pass as the opposite sex. This is not actually about trans people, as much as it is about the safety, integrity and general rights of male-passing biological women. I am not the only gender non-conforming woman who gets tossed out of female only spaces, based on the false presumption that we’re men. I do not care about validating trans women, or even trans men, for that matter. I care about real life practicality, risks and safety for ALL women, not just those who look conveniently clearly female, which starts with accepting that some women, whether they've medically transitioned or not, pass as male. And none of them should have to feminise themselves to access female only spaces. Whether that be to ensure safety from males, or to just take a leak.

The fact that I choose to keep my beard has almost nothing to do with that I'm male-passing. It may be my strongest "male" feature, but it's hardly the only one. I still pass as male with a clean shaven face, which makes shaving my beloved beard rather pointless, in my opinion. I would realistically need to go through more than just facial hair removal to pass as my own sex again. I'd probably even need facial feminisation surgery, hair transplant, voice feminisation and full body hair removal, at the very least, to even get close to passing as female again. But even then, I'd probably STILL be read as a trans woman, i.e. male. And even IF I did all that... WHY should I have to mutilate myself (a second time) by buying into harmful patriarchal beauty standards, which would worsen my dysphoria and reduce my comfort in my own skin significantly, to be allowed the safety of male-free spaces?

Does that sound feminist to you? Because to me, it's incredibly misogynistic, and strongly counterproductive. To uphold patriarchal gender roles for the safety of women... is the most insanely anti-feminist double standard I can possibly ever think of.

To lay out my argument on this topic, I'm going to use my own experiences as examples a lot. Mostly because I cannot with any conscience speak for anyone else than myself, at least not in such detail and with such harsh judgement. But I'm sure a lot of my experiences are applicable to other masculine women as well.

First off, I still consider myself gender critical, but my allegiance to radical feminism has been waning lately. This is mostly due to that although I agree with the base premise of radfem, I tend to disagree with the proposed solutions to almost all of the issues, because to me they come across as unfounded beliefs (yes, BELIEFS) that "it would just work" without much of any evidence to back up such a claim.

And when it comes to trans people, I've noticed a lot of... shall we say, willful ignorance, going on among many radfems, which does affect opinions on gender abolishion as well as sex segregated spaces to appear rather... intellectually dishonest, to be frank. Although this is not intended as a call out by any means, I merely want for people of all sides of the radfem/gender critical/pro-trans fence to stay critical and keep questioning everything, even one's own beloved ideology. Which I don't see a lot of. Instead I see almost religious defending of radfem as the ultimate/perfect ideology... oh, guess where I've seen that before? I've come to believe that "hivemindedness" is probably part of every possible ideology out there. Even radfem.

So, anyway.

One thing I come across time and time again is the belief (yes, I dare say "belief") that people never pass as the opposite sex, although it's mostly directed at trans people, this very much applies to people who are just gnc as well. Let's not forget that. And this belief seem to often lead to that transitioned/gnc people can just use the space intended for their biological sex, no problem. However, this is not the case. There is a problem. Very many trans people, and some gnc people, pass well enough to at least blend in enough to not raise much of an eyebrow among the opposite sex, and to most definitely stand out as an outsider among people of the same sex. OR they pass barely enough as either sex, and thus stand out as an outsider among both the same sex and the opposite sex, which can cause similar problems with single sex spaces.

There's also the thing that it generally is easier to pass as the opposite sex among complete strangers, compared to people who know you/your background. They tend to read you differently, depending on that.

At least in my experience, complete strangers assume I'm male and don't even as much as raise an eyebrow about how male I come across as. They accept their false assumption at face value. And why wouldn't they? 99,97% of people who "look like me" are biologically men. Then people who know I'm transitioned, but didn't know me pre-transition, tend to see me as a female who looks very convincingly male, whether that makes me a masculine woman, trans man, or any other (female) label in their eyes. They claim to be able to "see" my female nature, yet they somehow had no idea before I told them about my true sex. Then people who know about my history and saw it happen from the time before my transition (now only really my family) never quite succeeded to see me as anything other than a gnc woman. To quote my dad: "You look like a woman who's trying to look like a man." Although I'm sure my mom and sister don't have quite as harsh views about me, lol. They still seem to see me the way they always have, regardless of what name or pronouns they use for me.

This matters, because although people who know I'm transitioned and may even have witnessed my transition from the beginning, struggle to see me as a man (which I respect entirely and I'm VERY careful to not push wanting to be seen/read as anything in particular, but also, people do not want to be rude, especially irl) that does not go for people who have never even seen me before the moment I walk into... say, a public bathroom. To them I cannot possibly be anything other than a man, and it's almost impossible to change their view of me as male once their brains have registered me as such. I need to conjure up pretty fucking compelling evidence to shatter that view they have of me.

This is important, because it means I cannot feasibly use female only spaces, unless someone else (who is also female) vouches for me and explains my situation for me. This is, most likely due to people being more likely to believe an unlikely explanation when it's told by someone else, because maybe I could be lying; and only someone of the same sex as me can accompany/escort me into female only spaces, obviously. But even then, there's a ton of tension around my presentation. An air of distrust, basically. The question that hangs in the air: "Is that a trans woman?" even after they've been given a thorough explanation of my situation. It's uncomfortable for everyone involved. Imagine how it goes then if I'd just show up unannounced, and without someone to vouch for me. I just get booted on sight.

Yes, I can whine about this all day, but that is NOT my point.

My point is that I'm either directly, or implicitly, unwelcome in female only spaces, despite being biologically female, because of my transitioned appearance... despite I'm not even on testosterone anymore since 2 years ago. Sure, most gnc women (whether transitioned or not) don't seem to have turned out quite as passable as me, but clearly, it happens. So let's stop pretending that it doesn't.

So with that in mind, I don't always have access to a gender neutral space. Like for example when I travel with the ferry that goes between my island and the mainland of my country, there is only men's bathrooms and women's bathrooms. No third option. That's a 3 hour boat ride, and with my coffee drinking habit, I will need to pee at some point or another while aboard that ship, alright. And no, peeing in the ocean is not an option, as squatting over the railing would be incredibly dangerous, and most likely not even remotely allowed. Granted, I don't take the ferry often, it's just the most clear example I can think of. Because it's my only means of transportation to/from the mainland, except from flying, which is incredibly expensive, less reliable and obviously an environmental hazard. So when I do have to use that ferry, I'm kinda stuck with my choices.

So then, am I better off going with the men's or women's bathroom? I am much more likely to be left alone to do my business in the men's, so even though that is not the space I want to be in, nor do I think it's "right" for me to be there, sometimes it's even a bit scary, other times even impractical if there's only urinals and no stall, and it's absolutely not validating at all - it's the only bathroom that I can realistically use, without too much trouble. And I don't want trouble. But I also hate having to put my own safety on the backburner for the perceived safety of other women, who are not actually at any higher safety risk when left alone with me.

So, onto the more general, political aspects of this issue:

Women in male only spaces may be less of an issue in regards to safety, at least for the majority of people (men) in that space, especially if the woman in question passes as male. No one gives a fuck, generally. But problem is then that she is at far greater risk than the majority of people (women) would be with a single male, in a female only space. As I think a group of women against one male is generally less risk towards the women, when compared to a group of men against a single female, which can be extremely dangerous for her. Although I've so far never been faced with any sort of violence in a male only space, let's not pretend that my presense in a male only space is somehow LESS dangerous for me, than how dangerous the presense of ONE male in a space with a whole group of women, would be for those women. Statistically and realistically, I'm at a far greater risk than they are, and no, I do not have any more choice in the matter than they do.

Thus, this kinda skewed idea of safety and choice, becomes a question of ethics, I think.

Furthermore, I'm a person of principles, and it wouldn't sit right with me that if males should never under any circumstances be allowed in female spaces, but females could be allowed in male spaces. I refuse to be a hypocrit on purpose! No, if males should never under any circumstances be allowed in female spaces, then females should also never under any circumstances be allowed in male spaces. OR, if females CAN under some special circumstances be allowed into male spaces, then males should be allowed the same in female spaces. Both of these solutions pose serious problems, which I keep seeing being brushed under the carpet a lot, and that annoys me.

But if we go with the first idea, of barring people from using opposite sex spaces altogether, then where the fuck do I pee? Should I utilise my "right" to use female spaces, despite making everyone uncomfortable and feeling threatened by my presense, as well as risking being kicked out and forced to use the equivalent male spaces anyway, which is exactly what that idea is meant to prevent - or should I completely avoid being in places which I know does not have a gender neutral bathroom, such as the ferry? Would that not be discrimination? Which is the most reasonable option here, what is the most practical, what's wrong and what's right? Do I even have a RIGHT to use female bathrooms, and if so, how do I prove it, considering my ID still says I'm male?

Trans men aren't gonna be nearly as willing to use female only spaces, and trans women definitely not eager to use male only spaces. But aside from that validation factor, I have the exact same struggle as trans people do on this particular point. Quite often they do toss and turn at which bloody bathroom to pick, not just out of validation, but because they genuinely struggle to figure out which one is the best option for them practically. Especially if they don't quite pass as either sex, and most and foremost just wanna do their business without unneccesary drama.

Also, to clarify: barring trans people from opposite sex spaces is NOT discrimination, as they never belonged there to begin with - but leaving them with no other option than to pee themselves, is. Which means that I think it's fucked up to barr them from those spaces BEFORE having solved the problem of "if they can't go there, then where?"

Perhaps I'm the only one around here who cares about males' integrity, safety and human rights. But even if so, I should not be the only one to care about gnc females' integrity, safety and rights. Male-passing females, whether transitioned or not, whether bearded or not, are still female, and if we don't want them in female only spaces, and not in male only spaces either; why? Because they "chose" to medically transition and/or dress in men's clothing?

Yeah, well, in most cases of transitioned females, they transitioned because of dysphoria, which no one chooses to have. It's a medical condition. Barring people from spaces they'd otherwise be welcomed into, due to the visual outcome of the treatment of their medical condition... is ableism. Barring a woman from a female only space she belongs in, solely because her unusual physical appearance freaks you out... is ableism. Also, simply being gnc and being viscerally uncomfortable with presenting femininely is also not a choice. And even if it was... shouldn't it be? That's why I cannot roll with that sorta solution. I dunno if it counts as a form of discrimination by definition, but it just smells a lot like it from where I sit. That it's no more right to toss me out of, or give me trouble, in a women's bathroom, than a masculine women who also passes as male but who has not medically transitioned.

That said, however, women's safety DOES matter a lot to me. Hence my reluctance to join their spaces, despite being a woman myself. I guess, what I'd want is complete sex segregation to work in my favour, but I can't promote a rule that would discriminate against me. I'm sorry, I just can't. I desire FUNCTIONAL sex segregated spaces, but realistically they cannot function. Truth is that the only womens spaces I've been allowed into since I began passing as male, are "trans inclusionary" ones that openly allow in trans women, ironically. I care about the safety of other women, and their right to have their own spaces... but not at the expense of my own rights, as a fellow woman. To say otherwise would be a crime against myself. I really wish this could be solved in some way that would work in practice, but honestly I don't think it can anytime soon. Not without some seriously tried and proven, practical and humane methods to check what sex people entering single sex spaces actually are.

That is the reality that people have to face. And personally I'd rather focus on women's rights than trans rights, but as a woman who's medically transitioning, I'd shoot my own foot no matter which one I'd choose. That's quite a dilemma.

So where my opinion stands on this right now, is basically this: I think female only spaces should only be for biological women, but I'm reluctantly okay-ish with males who pass as female utilising female only spaces, and vice versa for females in male only spaces. However, this does not feel ideal at all. It's a compromise. Ideally, I want such spaces to be entirely sex segregated, and for even people who pass as the opposite sex (like myself) to be allowed into spaces of their biological sex. My appeal here is both realistic practicality with the reality that some people really do pass as the opposite sex, as well as the safety, rights and integrity of male-passing women.

[wiypt-writes]

Riding On

Ch 6: It’s A Nice Day For A White Wedding

Summary: It’s Jake’s wedding day and poor Fliss appears to be the only sober one in the Circle Of Truth…and then that all important question is answered. Is Baby Adler Pink or Blue? (Place your bets, please!)

Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (NSFW NO UNDER 18s!!) Also some pretty heavy anti-Trump ranting so if this offends anyone, sorry (but also not sorry… I think the guy is as much of a buffoon as Boris fcking Johnson)

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

A/N: Just so you know, I couldn’t decide whether to give them a boy or a girl…so I literally wrote both down on a piece of paper and picked. 

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 5 And I would answer all your wishes, if you asked me to. But if you deny me one of your kisses, don’t know what I’d do. So hold me close and say three words like you used to do. Dancing on the kitchen tiles, yes you make my life worthwhile, so I told you with a smile, it’s all about you.

 Bonnie and Fliss stood in the small room at the side, the crowd of people milling around between there and the outside patio area whilst the main room was set up for the party following the conclusion of the sit down reception.

"It was a nice meal." Bonnie smiled.

"Yeah, really thoughtful of them to have the non-alcoholic wine available" Fliss smiled. “Felt nice to taste something that made me feel like an adult again.”

She looked around and her gaze settled on Frank who was leaning against the bar, his red tie long discarded, collar of his dress shirt undone. He caught her eye, flashed her a smile and then turned back to Greg continuing their conversation.

"He hasn't taken his eyes off you all day." Bonnie smiled as Fliss turned back to her. "It's cute"

Fliss smiled "You know he got me flowers yesterday. When I got back from work he had already left to come up here and when I called him to ask what they occasion was he said he just felt like it." She paused "I get the feeling he is still trying to make up for Vegas but he doesn't need to. We're good."

Bonnie grinned. "Did he tell you what he actually said to the girl?"

"I don't think he remembers" Fliss shook her head.

"Si does. Apparently he said, and I quote 'why the fuck would I want a Big Mac when I got a prime fillet steak waiting for me at home?’ “

Fliss blinked, and then let out a huge snort of laughter which attracted the attention of a few people around them. 

"How fucking rude" 

"She deserved it by refusing to back off the first time. Ho." Bonnie shrugged. 

"I don't mean that I mean him likening me to a piece of meat. Mind you, quite apt really..." she shrugged 

"How so?"

"He is constantly fucking horny." Fliss dropped her voice "Not that I particularly mind but the last week or so he's been really, really bad. Take Thursday for example. I woke up to him poking me in the back so he got a blowjob before we got up, then he fucked me on the couch that evening when Mary had gone to bed and then when I woke up to go to the loo at 2 am we did it again."

Bonnie sniggered "Maybe you're giving off some kind of sex pheromone because you’re pregnant."

"I know you're joking but..." Fliss shrugged "He’s always had a high sex drive but since I started really showing he has gotten so much worse. I think he has some kind of breeding kink."

"Must be so hard being you..." Bonnie said sarcastically "Nice man that buys you flowers and can't keep his hands off you...”

"He is the one finding it hard not me" Fliss grinned and at that Bonnie tipped her head back laughing.

Frank heard his girl’s laughter from where he was stood and watched as she tipped her head back, attracting the attention of a few of the guests with her loud cackles. His eyes scanned down her frame and back up again, lingering slightly on the gentle curve of her bump just visible under her dress as it hung over her lower body. Her hair was pulled back into an elegant knot at the base of her neck, a few strands hanging loose around her face and her eyes were lidded with a light dusting of rose gold powder, making her brown irises pop even more. The necklace he had bought her a while back hung around her neck, settling just above her cleavage which looked fucking amazing in that dress. 

The moment he had seen her earlier when she had arrived with Bonnie he’d felt the all too familiar stirring in his pants that he seemed to get every time he looked at her recently. His mouth had gone dry and he’d been totally ogling her, enough to cause Greg to slap him on his shoulder and tell him, jokingly, to stop being a pervert. 

Frank hadn't replied. He’d waited long enough to allow himself to open up to someone so they could see the entire shit show he was. He was happy, more than happy in fact. So as for being a pervert where Fliss was concerned? Well, he had no intentions of stopping at all. 

As he watched her now, aware he was once more staring at her, she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and her hand went to her silver daisy pendant, gently twirling the silver chain in her fingers before she let go, pressing her hand over the pendant in the curve just above her breasts and that was it, he was done.

He wanted her, now.

Necking the short that Greg had passed him he patted his friend on his shoulder and told him he would be back shortly before striding over the room towards the two women. As he made his way over, dodging round a few people, he saw Fliss reached out and snatch Bonnie’s beer, taking a mouthful, letting out a groan of satisfaction. Bonnie’s eyes flew to him as he approached and he put a finger over his lips, telling her to be quiet.

“Pretty sure you ain’t supposed to have that…” Bonnie chastised, her eyes flicking back to Fliss as she took the bottle back.

“One mouthful won’t hurt.” Fliss replied, her shoulders rising in a shrug. “I always take a swig of Frank’s before I hand it to him…just don’t tell him.”

“Too late.” He leaned down and said in her ear, causing her to shriek slightly and jump as his hands settled on her hips, beard tickling her cheek and neck.

“Fuck! Fran, what you trying to do, send me into early labour?” she tilted her head to look over her shoulder at him before she glared at Bonnie “You could have warned me.”

Bonnie shrugged and grinned as she walked off. Fliss wrinkled her nose and turned in Frank’s arms, looking up at him sheepishly

“That was naughty.” he teased and she grinned a little.

“It was one mouthful…”

“I’m only teasing.” He smiled, dropping his mouth to hers in a sweet kiss and she sighed. He tasted of scotch and the cheesecake that they’d had for desert. “I told you before, one glass or one bottle won’t hurt if you want one.” “No, I don’t.” She shrugged “Just wanted a little taste that’s all.”

“Yeah well, now I want a taste of something.” “What are you talking about?”

“I want you.” He said, his mouth by her ear and he felt her still slightly, her breath hitching and he grinned, planting a soft kiss to the crook of her shoulder. He knew the effect those words had on her, being wanted as opposed to needed, it was a subtle difference, but one he knew meant something to her, and him for that matter.

“What, now?” She looked at him as he pulled away, glancing around the room before he looked back down at her.

“Right now.” He nodded.

“Are you serious?”

“Deadly.” He looked at her, “What’s the Ladies bathroom like?”

“You wanna do me in the ladies.” She deadpanned as he tugged her hand and pulled her away from the crowded foyer towards the bathroom.

“Yup.” He checked around once more to see if anyone was watching, before he opened the door and nudged her back gently with his hand so she entered the room in front of him.

“Wow, romantic, Frank.” Fliss said sarcastically as she arched an eyebrow, turning to face him.

“I’m being spontaneous.” His eyebrow arched as he backed into the cubicle, pulling her with him, reaching round to lock the stall door.

“There’s nothing spontaneous about you wanting to jump my bones” She looked up at him as her purse clattered to the floor, “You’re constantly after a bit at the moment.”

“Can you blame me Sweetheart?” he whined, looking down at her, his eye-line trained on her cleavage “You turn up…looking like that…been killing me sat next to you all afternoon. Frankie has needs.”

“My face is up here jackass!”

“I know.” he said, his gaze not moving “I was talking to Ben and Jerry.”

“Ben and Jerry.” Fliss scoffed “You named my boobs?”

“Only since they got bigger.” he grinned as his eyes moved back to hers

“Why Ben and Jerry?” she asked as his hands gripped at her hips.

“Because they’re delicious and soft like ice cream.”

Fliss snorted and he grinned at her, his eyes glazed slightly.

“You’re drunk” she stated.

“Nah ah, it’s hormones.” he said seriously.

“No.” Fliss laughed “I’m pretty sure you’re drunk. I saw you, Simon and Greg before, all necking from the hipflasks you each have in your pocket whilst they were taking the photos.” “Yeah, but.” Frank shook his head “I aint that drunk. Scouts honour.” “Like you were ever in the scouts.” she laughed, her hand brushing through his hair.

“Actually I was, you can ask the mothership.” he assured her “They kicked me out after 5 months thought. I made rude words out of a load of string that we were supposed to be using to mark out a flower bed at the old people’s home.”

Fliss let out a groan “Bean is gonna be a monster.”

“No they won’t” he shook his head “Gonna be sweet…” he placed a kiss to her lips. “…and gentle, just like their mamma bear.”

His hand moved to cup her cheek, fingers grazing her neck as he pressed his mouth to hers. The kiss quickly became heated and Frank pressed up against her, the door to the cubicle rattling slightly, neither of them paying it much attention. His other hand grabbed a fist full of her dress, and he was just hoisting the tulle layers up when the noise of voices hit their ear as the door to the bathroom opened. They both stopped dead, and Fliss bit her lip to stop herself from laughing as Frank grinned down at her, his finger flying to his lips as his shoulders shook with his silent sniggers. A few doors down the cubicle door opened and they waited for whoever it was to finish. Eventually the toilet flushed and the door unlocked, before the tap began to run.

“I’d hurry up you guys…” Bonnie spoke, amusement in her tone as Frank and Fliss looked at each other, “You’ve been gone 10 minutes already.” At that Fliss burst out giggling as Frank snorted and his face dropped to Fliss shoulder where he pressed a kiss to her skin, his lips sliding up to her neck, gently nipping beneath her ear, his hands fondling her breasts over her dress. She gave a low groan and he smirked against her skin.

“Still don’t wanna?” he teased and she shook her head.

“Fine, just…get on with it then you twat.” she mumbled into his ear and he looked at her, grinning.

“I love it when you swear in British baby.”

“I can talk dirty in British too…” she quipped.

Frank gave a groan, slanting his mouth on hers as he pulled her with him, her fingers undoing his belt and trousers, pushing them down with his boxers over his hips, before he sat down on the closed toilet, taking himself in his hand and pumping himself a few times until he was rock hard as she leaned down, kissing him.

“Turn round…” he said against her mouth and she did as she was told. His hands bunched her skirt up to her hips and she reached down to move it of the way as he grabbed her hips and pulled her down, shifting her underwear to one side. In a fluid moment she sank down onto him, both of them letting out soft moans as Frank’s arm circled her waist protectively around her bump as she tipped her head back against his shoulders, his hips moving upwards.

She ground down on him, rotating her hips and he let her set the pace, more than happy to simply sit there, holding her, trailing sloppy kisses over the exposed skin on her back. The hand that wasn’t round her waist moved up to the front of her dress, slipping inside the low plunge neck line to her bra-les breast, rolling her nipple softly causing her to shudder and push down on him further.

“Fuck, Lissy…” he groaned, his forehead pressing on her shoulder “Feel so good baby girl..”

Her response was a low pant of his name as her hips moved faster, snapping back and forth as she pushed down even further, seeking out the friction she desperately needed. Her head tilted and he caught her mouth in a sloppy kiss, swallowing another moan as she pushed down further, his hands pulling her onto his lap as he fucked up into her over and over.

It was dirty, quick and in his many times with women he wasn’t quite sure he’d fucked anyone in a bathroom before, certainly an alley way or two, a dark corner of parking lot too, but it didn’t matter either way as he was damned sure it wouldn’t have been as good as this, the woman who was carrying his baby, the woman he loved with all his heart bouncing on his lap as they both raced to their ends. As Fliss tightened down, her head rolling back, she parted her lips and let out a low keen as Frank’s hand gently moved upwards, his fingers caressing the font of her throat as he held her against him, turning her head towards his so he could catch her mouth in a filthy kiss as he pushed up for a final time and came with a grunt. They both sat still for a while before he gave a little hum as Fliss chuckled as his hands wrapped around her, resting on her bump.

“You’re a bad man.” she mumbled and he grinned, giving her a quick kiss.

“Yeah but I’m your bad man.”

With a snort Fliss stood up and Frank rearranged himself, standing up and pulling up his pants. With another soft kiss Fliss told him to go out ahead of her whilst he sorted herself out so as not to attract too much attention to where they had been, even though she was pretty sure Bonnie had already told their friends.

Telling her he would meet her at the bar, with a final peck to her lips Frank headed out of the cubicle. He quickly checked his appearance in the mirror and once he’d straightened his suit and smoothed his hair down slightly he pulled the door open to be met with a round of applause as Simon and Greg stood by the pillar outside the bathroom, both grinning as they clapped.

Frank grinned as simply took a bow before the three of them laughed and Greg slapped him on the back as the three of them headed to the bar.

***** “Welcome to the dance floor….” The DJ’s voice rang out over the room “The new Mr and Mrs Neill…”

Jake swept Lisa out onto the floor and Fliss smiled, watching a the woman’s dress billowed out behind her and he took her into a hold as the opening bars to Signed, Sealed Delivered by Stevie Wonder rang out. Jake began to twirl Lisa around, the pair of them laughing a various people took photos, recording. Frank dropped a kiss to the side of Fliss’ temple and she smiled as his fingers curled around her hip.

“They look so happy.” Fliss smiled.

“Yeah.” Frank nodded “Good job really, seeing as they just got married.”

Fliss smiled and then there were some giggles as Jake and Lisa’s young girls ran onto the dancefloor to join their parents, which gave the couple the signal to wave everyone else in to join them.

“Shall we?” Frank asked, turning to face Fliss and she grinned.

“Lead the way Sailor.”

They stepped out onto the dancefloor where Frank gently took her left hand in his right, his other hand curling round her back, fingers splaying at the bottom of her spint.

“Can’t pull you quite as close as I’d like.” he quipped glancing down and Fliss shook her head as she looked at him, a soft smile spread across his face “You’re beautiful.” “You’re not so bad yourself, handsome.” she smiled as he twirled her around the floor, his movements upbeat in time with the song. He was actually a pretty good dancer, which Fliss knew already from the various times they’d been out, but it never failed to make her smile the way he could move so gracefully for such a tall, broad shouldered man. When she had passed comment on it once he had grinned and informed he that it was ‘all in the hips’, hips that were now easily snaking side to side as he moved in time with the music, stepping back from her a little, his hands taking hers. Fliss laughed, simply dancing along with him and eventually the music changed into another upbeat song. The pair of them stayed were they were, dancing with their friends and enjoying themselves until after about 20 minutes or so Fliss declared she was out, and needed the bathroom again before she was going to sit down.

“To pee this time, right?” Bonnie called after her. Fliss didn’t even look back, simply raised her finger up over her shoulder as she left the dancefloor.

Once she had washed her hands she touched up her make-up, glancing at her cheeks which were quite flushed from the heat and the dancing, before she headed out. Frank was waiting for her by the door.

“People will talk, you hanging around outside the Ladies.” she grinned.

“Only one lady for me.” he winked back and she shook her head.

“Smooth.” “I try.” he grinned, kissing her cheek “Wanna get a drink?”

“Yeah.” she smiled, slipping her hand in his as he led her over to the bar.

Frank ordered himself a beer, deciding he needed to take a break from the hard-stuff and Fliss a water. As she took it from him with a thanks she glanced around watching everyone dancing and milling around, cocking her head to one side, a thoughtful look on her face.

“Penny for em.” Frank said and she turned to look at him smiling.

“Nothing of interest really.” she mused “Just thinking about all this. It’s been a nice day and a lovely ceremony and clearly what Lisa and Jake wanted but…” “Not what you want.” Frank smiled “Yeah, I know.” “But what about you?” she asked, looking at him. “I know we joke about how I’ve been there and done it but…” “Liss.” he cut her off, his hand curling round her hip. “Do you really think that all this showy shit is my style?”

“No, not really.”

“Exactly.” he smiled at her “I told you, I’d be happy to run away, me, you and Mary and do it with just the 3 of us there. But I’d probably get lynched by your mom and dad so…” He pulled her into his side closer, dropping a kiss to his head “It can be whatever we want it to be.”

We.

That word hit her hard, because her last wedding had been all about how her stupid bastard of a husband wanted to show the world how rich and special he was. There wasn’t a thing about that day she had chosen for herself, including her dress and her bridesmaids. She looked up at Frank, her eyes clouding slightly and he chuckled, shaking his head at her sudden emotion.

“Come on, let’s go sit down.” he smirked, nodding to a table at the side of the room where Simon was just taking a seat. Fliss nodded and allowed him to lead her over.

As is usually the case with weddings, people flit around all over the place. Fliss found herself dancing again with Bonnie, then talking to a few of Jake’s old school friends, then to some of Lisa’s friends, one of whom had her own horse so they got caught up in a lengthy chat about show-jumping and before long she realised she’d been away from Frank for well over an hour without realising. She finished up the conversation and headed back to where he was sat at a table, animatedly discussing something with a white haired gentleman, Bonnie watching him with a slightly amused expression.

"The guy is a fahking melt..." Fliss heard Frank groan as he leaned back in his chair, shaking his head.

"Who is he talking about?" Fliss asked as she sat down next to Bonnie.

"Trump" Bonnie replied, grinning.

"Oh this should be fun..." Fliss smirked, and Bonnie nodded.

"The guy he is talking to is apparently a big fan..." she turned to face Fliss, "But he's yet to give any kind of pro- Trump argument which Frank deems worthy of consideration. Oh, and Frank is getting more Boston with every sentence.”

“Yeah he does that.” Fliss she said, fondly turning her attention to Frank who shook his head and wrinkled his nose.

"You're being disrespectful." The man who Frank was talking to shook his head "He's our president."

Frank scoffed "Disrespectful? Not really, I just find it beyond comprehension that this country elected such a damaged, sociopathic narcissist."

"Say what you mean Frank." Bonnie nodded sagely and Fliss bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. Frank was in full flow, however, and fuelled by the amount of alcohol in his system he wasn't about to stop any time soon.

"John Oliver hit the nail on the head." he continued, necking the last of his beer. "Trump could be drowning in the damned ocean and he'd there, waving the lifeboats away screaming 'get out of here, I'm very buoyant, I'm the most buoyant. Everybody talks about my buoyancy... I'm a tremendous floater' ...fahkin jack-ass."

"Who got Frankie boy talking about Trump?" Simon asked, placing the tray of drinks down and handing them out. Fliss took her Sprite with a thanks as he slid a short tumbler of scotch over the white table cloth to Frank, before flopping down on the other side of Bonnie, dropping a kiss to her cheek. Bonnie nodded to the gentleman who was now saying something back, to which Frank let out a lout guffaw of laughter as Greg settled into a seat a few down from Fliss.

Simon grinned "Come on Jack!" he spoke and the man turned to face him "It's a wedding, no politics."

"I only stated I happened to agree with his policy of putting American's first..." the man held his hands up.

"And I only pointed out that his misguided beliefs that migrants are to blame for all of America's ills are exactly that, misguided." Frank shrugged, shooting a wink at Fliss as he reached for the glass of amber liquid in front of him. "People should look closer to home...at the people who run the damnedcountry, not everyone in it merely tryin'a make a living..."

"His policies made sense when I read them..." the man called Jack shrugged. “Well thought out, articulate…” At that Frank leaned back, shaking his head, an unbelieving smile on his face as he gave a groan “Articulate…come on…”

"You kniow..." Bonnie leaned forward "A random monkey hitting keys for an infinite amount of time will eventually come up with the works of Shakespeare" she swallowed the rest of her drink. "All Trump really needs to be considered one of the greatest Presidents of all times is an infinite amount of time and a monkey that can type."

At that Frank snorted into his glass and reached over the table, holding his hand up. Grinning Bonnie hi-fived him and Simon, Greg and Fliss exchanged a glance, before Fliss leaned forward.

"You know how they measure horses in hands." she said and Frank turned his attention to his girl, his eyes shining "well he must have the biggest horses on the planet." she said, making a claw like gesture with her right hand and Frank let out another loud bellow of laughter, his hand flying to his stomach.

"And why are his eye sockets always white?" Greg asked, looking into his glass like it held the answer before he glanced round at them all. "Like, you think someone would tell him to use the sunbed without the goggles every once in a while..."

At that Jack shook his head and stood up, walking away.

"Something we said?" Bonnie asked, innocently as Simon leaned back in his chair and spoke, his talent for impressions ringing out across the table as he imitated the President's voice perfectly "I'm going to build a wall, and it will be the greatest wall ever known to man, even better than China's...my time as President will go down in history as being part of America's dumbass years, the most dumbass years ever..."

As the 5 of them laughed, Jake plopped down at the table, pointing at Simon, then Frank then Greg.

"No politics at my wedding, bitches."

"We're not talking politics..." Frank hiccupped slightly "We were just roasting the cheeto skinned, toupee wearing prick."

"His dad should have definitely wiped him on a curtain." Greg nodded, causing everyone at the table to laugh once more.

"All that sperm and he got there the quickest." Simon sighed "Makes me wanna cry."

"You know what is gonna make you cry?" Jake looked at him "My foot up your ass. Come on guys, this is my fucking wedding. Let’s go do shots and rip up the dancefloor!"

"Oooh...shots..." Bonnie nodded, standing up.

"What happened to taking it easy in solidarity?" Fliss narrowed her eyes at her, patting her bump.

"I'm weak." Bonnie shrugged as Simon tugged her to the bar, Greg rising to follow them.

"Frank?" Jake asked

"I'll pass." he smiled

"I could get em to make you an apple juice shooter?" Jake offered as he patted Fliss' shoulder. She flipped him the bird as he walked off, chuckling to himself.

Frank pause for a moment, taking in his girl's slightly flushed cheeks before he stood up, grabbing his glass which contained what was left of his short, and rounded the table to sit next to her.

"C'mere..." he said, patting his knee. She stood up and settled on his lap, his arm curling round her waist, fingers brushing the side of her bump "You ok?"

"Yeah." she smiled "Which is more than you're gonna be in the morning."

"I'll live" he smirked, necking the rest of his liquor. "No one has ever died from a hangover Sweetheart."

"There's time." she smiled and he grinned up at her, placing his glass on the table. 

"How's Bean?"

"Cooking." she grinned

"And Momma bear?"

"You asked me that a few seconds ago."

"And I'm asking again."

"In that case I'm still fine." she grinned leaning down to give him a peck. Frank smiled at her as she leaned back, his hand brushing her hip as he looked around the room.

"I wanna get married." he said, looking back to Fliss.

"We are."

"No, I mean like actually do it." he smiled "I wanna set a date."

"Don't you think we have enough to organise?" Fliss chuckled "Finding a house seeing as you're so adamant you want to move before Bean arrives..."

"They need a nursery." he pouted and Fliss smiled, running her hands through his hair. 

"So you tell me." she replied "And then there's actually a small matter of me giving birth..."

"Piece of cake..."

"Oh really?" she looked at him "How about you squeeze a bowling bowl out of your vagina and then tell me it's easy..."

Frank laughed and grinned up at her "You'll be amazing...you always are." he placed a kiss to her bare shoulder. "But seriously...don't you wanna marry me?" he pouted.

"No, I just took this ring because it was shiny." Fliss rolled her eyes at him "Of course I do."

"Well...couldn't we just like pick a month...so...I have some kind of marker in the sand?"

Fliss looked at him as he turned his puppy dog eyes on her and she shook her head, giving a soft huff

"You're such a soft bastard when you're drunk."

He shrugged "I can't help it. You make me feel things."

"And I don't when you're sober?" she teased.

"Shut up." he looked at her and she grinned, running her hand through the whiskers on his face. His beard was now actually pretty impressive as he'd let it grow out properly, it was way beyond the untidy, short stubble it had been when she'd first met him. But then again he was also quite far removed from that fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants, lost and damaged man he had been. He'd grown, a lot. And so had she. He knew it, she knew it...and the fact they had done it together made it all the more meaningful and special.

"September." Fliss smiled "Next year. Bean will be 1 by then and things will have settled. Think you can wait that long?"

Frank beamed at her "Yeah? You mean it?"

She nodded.

"Then September 2020 it is." his lips stayed curled up at the side as she dipped her head again and pressed her mouth to his. She pulled back, and found herself mimicking the infectious smile on his face. "I can't wait to make you Mrs Adler." he whispered.

"Who says I'm changing my name?" She teased and he frowned a moment before he shrugged.

"I just assumed..."he began to back track "I mean if you don't want..."

"Frankie..." Fliss cut him off, her hands cupping his face "I'm joking. I can't wait to have the same surname as you, Mary and our little one."

"God I fahkin love you..." he spluttered and she laughed, leaning back a little bit. At that point the opening bars to Hungry Like The Wolf hit their ears and Fliss heard Bonnie shriek her name. 

"Miami BITCHES, HOLLERRRR!" Simon yelled as he leaned on the back of Frank's chair.

"Shall we?" Fliss asked, standing up. Frank grinned, took her hand and allowed her to pull him onto the dancefloor. As she began to dance and laugh with Bonnie his hand fell to her hips, pulling her back against him, just like he had done all those months ago in Miami, before everything had taken such a huge change in direction. A dramatic change, but a change he was loving day by day. As he felt her push back slightly against his groin he gave a low groan and bent over.

“Stop it or I’ll be dragging you off to the bathroom again.”

She tilted her head, looked at him all doe eyed and innocent and he shook his head, arching and eyebrow.

“Ok, ok, I’m sorry.” she spluttered and he rolled his eyes before she turned round to carry on dancing, this time behaving herself.

As it was getting later into the evening, after a few more 80s hits the music took a turn and dimmed into something softer, and Fliss cocked her head to the side as Frank reached out to her, pulling her to him.

“What is this?” she asked.

“It’s called God Gave Me You.” Frank said, his fingers curing around hers “By Blake Shelton. He’s a Country singer.”

“Ohh, the dude that’s with Gwen Stefani.” Fliss nodded.

“Yeah, I heard it for the first time in ages in the truck the other day.” Frank said “When we went to Tampa.”

“I thought it sounded familiar.”

He smiled, refraining from telling her he’d been playing it on a damned loop for days since because every time he heard it, it simply reminded him of her.

As he steered her around, he became lost in the lyrics, not really paying attention to anything but realising how much they stuck home, how they were true to what he felt about Fliss. How he had been a mess until she’d appeared and given him everything he didn’t even realise he needed and more. How she had fit so perfectly into his and Mary’s life. How she was now carrying his child. How he would always love her…

He felt her squeeze his hand and he looked down and she was grinning at him.

“You’re singing.”

“Am I?” he asked, giving a soft chuckle “Sorry, I didn’t realise…”

“Don’t worry about it, no one else heard. Besides you have a good voice, not like mine.”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna say anything but the other day when you were singing in the shower Mary thought Fred was stuck somewhere and crying to get out.” Fliss laughed and shook her head “Yeah it isn’t one of my talents. I’ll leave it to you.”

He smiled and gave her a soft kiss.

“You singing it to me or Bean?” Fliss asked, smiling at him as he twirled them round slightly.

“Without you there would be no Bean.” He shrugged simply and at his words he saw her eyes misting over.

“Frankie…” she muttered and he chuckled slightly, his hands cupping her face.

“Baby, what’s…”

“That’s so sweet and…” she spluttered shaking her head “Fucking hormones”

He laughed and pulled her closer, still swaying to the music and she let out a sight. Frank felt her sagging a little in his arms and then it struck him. It was almost midnight. She had been up since 8, they’d been out at this wedding one way or another for almost 12 hours now and she was 5 months pregnant.

“You tired honey?” he asked and she shook her head where it was pressed against his chest. “Liar.” he kissed her head softly.

“Ok maybe a little.” she looked up at him

“Wanna go?”

“It’s still early.” she looked at him. “I don’t mind if you want to stay, I can go and-“

“Absolutely not.” he shook his head “It’s half 11 now and I’ve drunk more than enough…Jake and Lisa won’t mind.”

“You sure?”

“Course. I’ll go get call us a cab.”

When he came back Fliss was at the table gathering her purse and his jacket. They made their rounds, said good bye to their friends and Frank led his girl out into the starry sky hand in hand.

*****

All things considered, on the Sunday morning Frank woke fairly clear headed, which Fliss pointed out shouldn’t have happened with how much he had drunk. They had a lazy morning before they headed home to pick Mary up, who was full of beans about how Steve had taken her out playing mini-golf the previous afternoon. They stayed for dinner at Bill and Verity’s before they made their way home along with the 4-legged fur babies and it wasn’t long before all 3 of them crashed out, the exertion of the weekend catching up on them all.

Monday and Tuesday seemed to drag by for Frank, and there was a reason. On Wednesday they finally got to find out what Bean was. Their scan was in the afternoon and Mary once again wanted to come, especially as she knew she would find out whether it was gonna be a girl or a boy that joined their little family in roughly 19 weeks or so time. Once more she was ignored and packed off to school with a frown on her face.

Frank was like a coiled spring all morning. The guys at work teased him relentlessly about how he was bounding around the place like Tigger on cocaine but he didn’t care. He was beyond excited to find out whether they were going to have a son or daughter. At exactly 12 he finished work and headed home. Fliss was already waiting for him having changed and showered and chatting excitedly they hopped in his truck and headed to the hospital. They were early so went to grab a drink at the coffee shop- Fliss having been told to drink plenty of water as it would help with the scan, and then when they had 15 minutes to their appointment they headed up.

“Miss Gallagher, Mr Adler.” Dr Kent smiled at them as they walked in “Nice to see you again.”

They both greeted her and Fliss settled on the bed, getting herself comfortable as Frank slid into the chair by her side. After answering the questions the Doctor asked her about how she was feeling, whether she was worried about anything, all the time Frank trying to pay attention but his mind was on one thing and one thing only. Seeing his baby again.

And when that time finally came, his heart skipped a beat. On the 3D scan there was so much more detail to take in this time. He could make out the little nose, the ears, eyelashes…fucking eyelashes. A tiny hand curled by its face which twitched as their baby move slightly.

“It says here that you want to know what it is…” Doctor said, looking at them both “Is that still the case.”

“Yeah…” Frank said, at the same time Fliss spluttered.

“No, I mean yes… “

Frank frowned “Liss? I thought…” “Could you write it down for us?” Fliss cut him off, smiling at the doctor.

“Ahh you doing a gender reveal?” The woman nodded, and Frank’s frown grew deeper. They hadn’t discussed that.” Not a problem…”

The doctor looked at the screen and Frank glanced at Fliss questioningly but she softly shook her head at him and squeezed his hand, telling him silently to trust her. The Doctor smiled, and headed off to write the results down and a soon as she had left the room, Frank turned to Fliss

“What are you doing?”

“I just had a thought…” Fliss took a deep breath “that if we do it this way, you know get it written down to open later, then Mary can be there with us when we find out.”

And once again, just like that, her fucking thoughtfulness knocked him sideways. He blinked and shook his head, smiling as he brought his eyes back up to meet hers “You’re fucking amazing you know that?” Of course the only thing wrong with her plan was that they now had to wait another 3 hours for Mary to come home.

Frank collected her from the bus stop and as usual was greeted by the grumblings that she was perfectly capable of walking home across the little park on her own, to which he shot back his usual I don’t care response. She walked into the apartment with her usual swagger, tossing her bag over the back of the sofa before she wandered into the kitchen where Fliss was stood chopping up salad for dinner

“So.”  she said, dramatically “You gonna tell me then or what?”

Frank looked at Fliss who smiled before he spoke “Actually, you’re gonna tell us.”

“What?” she looked at him

“You’re gonna tell us what it is.” he repeated.

“Like how?” she rolled her eyes “I wasn’t even there.”

“We got the Doctor to write it down.” Fliss explained, “And seal it in an envelope.” Mary’s eyes widened “You mean…you guys don’t know?” Frank shook his head “Fliss thought it would be nice for all 3 of us to find out together.”

She looked at him, then to Fliss, her blue eyes filling with tears a she ran to Frank, her arms circling his waist.

“Hey…” he chuckled, crouching down and looking her in the face, his hand brushing her hair back slightly as she sniffed and gave a watery laugh “We good?”

She nodded and smiled “Where is it? The envelope I mean.”

“On the coffee table.”  he said, kissing her forehead.

“Can we do it now?”

“I hope so.” Frank said, looking up at Fliss “Been waiting all damned afternoon.”

“Oh hush.” Fliss replied as he stood up, Mary in his arms.

“You know you’re getting kinda big now Stack.” he grunted a little as he shifted her onto his hip.

“You’re still bigger.” she said as he dropped her down onto the floor in the living room.  She looked at the envelope and when Fliss nodded at her she picked it up.

“You know…” she mused, looking at Frank “If I open this that technically means that I was the first person to know. Well, other than the doctor…but they don’t count.” Frank looked at Fliss as his arm slid round her waist. “Yeah..” he turned back to Mary “Pretty cool, huh?” She grinned at him and took a deep breath “Ok…here goes….”

Frank felt his heart suddenly become quicker in his chest as he watched Mary pull open the envelope and look at the small slip of paper inside. She read the words, looked at them both, her eyes shining.

“Wow…” she breathed out.

“You’re killing us Stack!” Frank spluttered “What the hell is it?”

“It’s a boy!”

There was a pause and Frank blinked. “What?” he breathed out and looked at Mary “Are you sure?”

“I can read, Frank?” she narrowed her eyes at him, handing him the piece of paper. With a shaking hand he took ait and looked down at the words the doctor had written on them. As he read them, “Congratulations, it’s a Boy!” they suddenly registered in his brain and he looked at Fliss who had tears in her eyes. His own eyes misted over and a huge grin spread across his face.

“Lissy, it’s a boy!”

She gave a laugh as his arms wrapped around her and he kissed the side of her head.

“Happy Sailor?” she asked.

“I can’t…wow!” he chuckled, sniffing slightly, unable to form any other words. He moved one of his arms and signalled for Mary to join them and she rushed forwards, her arms wrapping around his waist as he dropped his hand to her back, gently rubbing between her shoulder blades.

A boy. A little boy.

Although he truly would have been happy either way, as long as their baby was healthy, he’d secretly always hoped the colour would be blue. They had Mary already, and from a selfish point of view had wanted a boy to even the numbers out. Not to mention the fact he was already envisaging matching baseball caps, sneakers, sailing days, basketball, football…

He looked at Fliss who gave him a smile and his face split into an even wider grin and he leaned over to give her a kiss before his hand dropped to the side of her bump, gently skating the place where his son was growing.

***** Frank wanted to shout their news from the roof tops. But Fliss forbid him from telling anyone until they told the family first. As Evelyn would be here for the weekend they decided to have a BBQ on the Saturday evening, and share their news then. And Mary and Fliss came up with the perfect way to do it.

Evelyn arrived in town on the Friday afternoon and due to her new found ‘friendship’ (if you could call it that) with Fliss’ parents since that fateful thanksgiving in Boston, she was staying with them. Her first comment upon seeing them all was how much Fliss had bloomed since her last visit a few months ago. Fliss had grinned and commented that she felt like a hippo to which Evelyn had snorted and told her to stop being ridiculous. The 4 of them went for dinner that evening to the Italian in town that Mary liked and on the Saturday Bill dropped her at the stables to see Mary ride. Mary had now moved on from the cross poles to a foot high straight upright jump, and she was easily taking it all in her stride. Frank had long since given up trying to talk her out of it. She enjoyed it, and it was hard to deny she was pretty good at it too. Saturday afternoon they all went back to the apartment where Evelyn, Fliss and Mary whipped up some cupcake batter…something which floored Frank. He couldn’t remember his mother baking, ever. Once the cakes were cooked however, Evelyn was unceremoniously barred from the kitchen whilst Fliss and Mary put the final touches to their Gender Reveal plans. At one point Mary burst out of the kitchen telling Evelyn to look away, and as Frank looked up from where he and his mother had been glancing at a few realtor pages and properties in the local area, he could instantly see why. She had blue food colouring all over her face and hands.

Later that night Verity, Steve, Bill and Roberta joined them and after a few drinks Mary handed out the cupcakes.

“Now, you have to eat them at the same time.” she instructed “Because the colour in the middle will tell you if the baby is gonna be a boy or a girl.”

“Did you make these?” Steve looked at Fliss. She nodded.

“And no, there’s nothing special in them…” she told him and he smirked “Other than the buttercream.”

As everyone eagerly began to dig into their cakes, desperate to find out, Mary skipped over to where Frank and Fliss were stood at the side of the kitchen steps, standing in front Frank as his arm dropped looping around her chest, pulling her back towards him a little. “A boy?” Verity shrieked, the first to find her splodge of blue cream in the middle of her cake as she looked over at them all.

“Yeah!” Fliss smiled, Frank’s other arm tossed casually round her shoulder.

“God help ya’ll, a mini Frank!” Roberta quipped and he shot her a glare before the rest of the crowd of people erupted into cheers and laughter. There were a lot of hugs shared and then Mary stepped over to Bill and Steve, holding her hand out.

“Pay up, losers.”

“Yeah…Dad can you sub me?” Steve asked, “I left my wallet at home” “Course you did.” Bill grumbled as he reached into his pocket. Retrieving a twenty from his wallet he handed it to Mary.

“Erm…what are you doing?”  Frank asked, having watched the exchanged.

“Last week when you were at the wedding we were talking about it and I bet them it was a boy.” Mary shrugged “I had a hunch” “And now she has twenty bucks.” Bill grumbled as Fliss gave a loud laugh.

“No she doesn’t.” Frank put his hands on his hips “Give it back.”

“No way.” she pouted “I earned that.” “You’re 9.” Frank shot back “You know it’s illegal for 9 year olds to gamble, Mary.”

“What you gonna do Frank?” Fliss asked as Mary folded the money and sticking it in her pocket “Call the feds?”

Bill and Steve both sniggered as Frank looked at Fliss before he shook his head and turned back to Mary.

“How exactly were you gonna pay if you lost?” he folded his arms. “I was planning on winning it back by betting on the name.” she shrugged.

“Double or quits.” Steve nodded in agreement.

“Stop encouraging her.” Frank pointed at him.

“Relax…” Frank heard Evelyn chuckle a little and he turned to face her, where she was sat at the outside table with Verity and Roberta “You’re in dad mode already.” “I’ve been in dad mode for the last 8 and a half years.” he shot back before he felt his eyes widen slightly.

“I know…” his mother gave him a soft smile. “Believe me.”

Fliss hand tightened around his for a second and he looked down at her, giving her a quick peck.

“I’m gonna get another beer.” he said, suddenly needing the head space. “You want anything?” “No.” Fliss smiled at him as he walked off. 

Truth was he’d shocked himself a little. That was the first time he’d ever referred to his role with Mary as being a dad out loud to anyone but her or Fliss. Truth be told, he was a little worried about how she was going to react once Bean was born and how they were going to try to keep her feeling as included as they could, especially when he started talking and referring to him and Fliss as Mom and Dad, when Mary didn’t. He ran a hand over his face, opening the fridge. It was an unorthodox situation, but…well, he knew full well there were worse circumstances Mary could be in. 

“She wouldn’t mind you know.” a voice jerked him from his thoughts and Frank spun to face his mother

“Who?” he frowned. “Diane.” she reached past him for the bottle of wine in the fridge “Fliss told me that’s why you get so pissy about people referring to you as Mary’s father.” “I’m not pissy about it, I’m just not her father.”

“You are in every other way bar legally being labelled as so, Frank.” Evelyn poured herself a drink “And moreover, Diane’s memory isn’t going to suddenly fade away if you were.”

“What are you-“

She levelled him with a look and simply handed him the bottle back before she picked up her glass and headed off leaving him pondering her words. With a shake of his head, deciding that was a discussion for another day, he grabbed another bottle of beer and headed back outside.

“Hey Frank!” Roberta’s shout stopped him in his tracks as stood at the top of the steps and looked over at her. “You gonna cook anything on this BBQ or what? Been waiting so damned long my clothes are goin outta fashion.” “That’s assuming they were in fashion in the first place!” Mary grinned, skipping past Frank as he walked onto the lawn, tossing a ball for Fred as he scooted off after it, Thor following.

At that Steve snorted. Roberta looked at him

“Oh hark on the British boy in board shorts.”

Steve’s response was a cheeky wink “I have been reliably informed you like men in board shorts Roberta. Do I not meet your standards?” he gave a little twirl, his arms held out to his side, a grin on his face. “I’ve seen worse.” she mused, causing Steve and Bill to tip their heads back in almost identical roars of laugher. “You ever fancy yourself a sugar momma you know where to come lookin�� honey.”

“You know, if we’re discussing questionable clothing choices…” Fliss looked up, her eyes locking onto Frank’s before she glanced at Mary “I have something to say about someone’s shirts.”

Mary let out a lout hoot of laughter as did Roberta and Frank looked at Fliss as she grinned.

With a shake of his head and a soft snort of laughter as he looked around at his family, he headed to the BBQ.

**** Chapter 7

[inmyarmswrappedin]

Now that Nora's season is coming to end, what are somethings that you want for amira's season

Hi 😁 I bet you thought I’d never reply to this ask! Well, after you sent this in MARCH, I am finally posting an answer. 

Btw, I did the same for Nora’s season, and as a note, I’m a white European and an atheist. If any of this is offensive or not my place to say, I preemptively apologize.

1) I would like for Amira's arc not to be about being Muslim. That is, Cris' arc isn't about being bi, it's about learning (and accepting) that she's more than the fun friend. That she has and can offer more to the people in her life. Nora's arc isn't about being a feminist, it's about not being so set in your first impression of someone that you don't notice red flags or don't notice them trying to be better people. Same with Eva and not being defined by her mistakes, or about Viri and her financial situation. And I would like the same for Amira.

2) I think one common denominator of all Sana seasons so far is that they've shown the mains doing something that people assume hijabi can't do when it's more like they're systematically excluded from participating. For Sana, it was basketball. For Imane, it was dancing. For Amira M, it was boxing. I joked on twitter that Amira N's thing should be binging TV shows and eating junk, proving that hijabi are really like anyone else, but on a serious note, I'd like for Amira's thing to be photography (and maybe modeling? since Amira's friend was taking pics of her).

3) A scene where Amira explains how she can be a feminist and a hijabi both, just so we as a society have that scene to point to when the question inevitably comes up again. Seriously, I feel like that's one of the questions I most often see people asking Hajar.

4) I want the association girls to have their own youtube channel. Or at the very least, their own instagram and/or twitter account. I would love for them to post memes punching up about their experiences.

5) I feel like, much like with trans narratives, there's this "acceptable" narrative for hijabi in mainstream society, which is: the character made the decision to cover after coming up with solid reasons to do so. I.e. she made the decision early and can defend it with inarguable rebuttals. It's like women can't be trusted unless they know 150% what they're doing, be it covering, or dating a girl, or going vegan, or any number of things. I really appreciate that Amira started covering just because it felt right, and she's finding meaning in it after the fact. I would like for this to be a thing in her season, that she's still figuring herself out, that she's not already an Islamic scholar.

6) I also think that's what makes her stand apart from the other Sanas. I feel like (maybe with Zoya's exception), none of the other Sanas would entertain a crush on a white guy. They'd have never drunk or flirted (like we know Amira used to do). It's like they're not allowed to fuck up, or can only fuck up in acceptable ways, like engaging in a flirtation with a non Muslim only because they didn't know he wasn't a Muslim, or had booze at home, but it wasn't theirs, etc. I'm hoping that they've made Dani a love interest specifically to explore this idea (and not because they wanted to whitewash a character or give less time to an actor of color).

7) On that note, SKAM Hajar brought up an idea that, because the hijab makes them super visible, hijabi are perceived as ambassadors of Islam, expected to be able to answer any question about Islam, but also that people will judge all Muslims based on whatever mistake they individually make. I would like for a potential bench scene to allow Amira to say that it puts major pressure on her to feel like she can't make any mistake, because every Muslim will be judged based on her making a mistake, having a shitty day, being in a bad mood, not wanting to be Muslim wikipedia that day, etc. That sometimes she just wants to be Amira, not Islam personified.

8) I would like for Dani's character to represent not just white society, but also childhood, the safe choice, the choice her parents would love, and for Sofian's character to represent not just Moroccan culture, but also like... SEXY risk, independence, novelty... Because I feel like when I see Muslim girl/Muslim boy/white guy love triangles in fiction, the Muslim guy is positioned as the boring choice (but still incredibly wrong because he's abusive or maybe even secretly gay and forced to beard by his parents), the safety, the guy you'd bring home to your parents, whereas the white guy represents independence and carving your own path away from your parents.

9) Just once, I would like for a Muslim character to say, "what do you think of Catholic priests abusing kids?" to someone asking them what they think of such-and-such Muslim majority country doing such-and-such to its citizens. Bonus points if it's Sofian's character.

10) I would like for Dilan to get an insta and a storyline. And for that storyline to connect to Amira's.

11) In general, I would prefer that parents be kept to a minimum (not to get rid of them entirely, of course, but to be kept at the level they've been in other Sana seasons). I just have never thought the point of Skam was the parents. And I get why they have a larger presence in a second gen kid, but I, personally, am more interested in what they represent in the main's life, rather than in giving them a lot of face time.

12) And, on that note, if they do with Amira what I've outlined above, I don't think there's a necessity for Amira to have siblings. Particularly if eskam isn't going to continue after this season. I think it'd be far more interesting if Amira's character contained the elements of figuring her identity as a Muslim living in a Western country that Elias, Idriss and Essam had. (And maybe that way Dani is both Yousef and Elias, stealing not just one role for an actor of color, but two! lmao)

13) I really hope that the obligatory evak s4 side plot be kept at a minimum tbh. I'm really not interested in a) Eloy coming back to cause drama, b) Amira's friend causing croana drama because she's Joana ex or whatever, c) a physical fight breaking out because of (perceived) homophobia.

14) I want Amira to tell Cris that amiris es lo más real que hay. 😭 I would love it if, as a parallel to Cris' season, Amira doesn't tell Cris about her interest in Sofian's character at first because she's afraid of her reaction, only for Cris to be supportive of whatever she chooses to do.

15) I would be so fucking happy if eskam adapted the "is your faith stronger than your lust?" scene in this season. I have always wanted to love that scene, because how often do you get a scene where two girls get to talk that long and that much (even in Skam most of the iconic dialogue scenes between just two people aren't between two girls in the squad), but I just haaaated the purpose of the scene in Skam.

16) I would cry buckets if we got a scene like Det Beste fra Islam where Amira and Sofian's character both talk about what Islam means for them. Particularly if Sofian is introduced as not the Perfect Muslim Man, but it turns out he has THOUGHTS about religion.

17) And, finally, I would love for the unquestionable villain of the season to be a white guy. If the villain is going to be a woman, then I would want her to be Cris' mom, not a high school aged character. Not because of white feminism yayyy! but because I think the major issue Sana seasons have run into before is that the showrunners want to touch on white girls being the problem, but they also don't want to villainize white girls. So we have stuff like Sana inviting Sara and Ingrid (of all people!!) to Eid, Imane apologizing to Ingrid (of all people!!), random one clip white women attacking Amira M (and the Kiki/Amira friendship of course), etc. I'd just rather they didn't have girls doing shitty stuff to Amira N, if they're going to go back on it. Which they inevitably would, because eskam's overall message is sisterhood.

Bonus clips

18) I would love it if Skam España was like, "you thought we were dropping storylines left and right? Nope!" and resolved long standing mysteries like who was behind Eva's hate ig, who had the pills, who outed Cris to the school, who's the owner of the keys that were left behind at GSC, and so on. Will die if it turns out to be Ramón!

19) I want Joana to get that job she wanted so bad last season!

20) I would love for Emma to show up and come out as a lesbian, just as a last hurrah lol.

21) I don't feel strongly about which couples should be endgame and not (other than not Dani/Amira hghvvh please), BUT in my most embarrassing fantasies, I want Skam España to hire Alejandro Reina's irl boyfriend to play Lucas' boyfriend for the finale. Not because I can't separate fiction from reality or anything, but because when I thought Lucas would be getting a season, I wanted his boyfriend to be a poc, and I was highkey buttmad that they hired random white bread when they could just as easily have hired a poc.

22) I think it would be really cool if Inés got a clip on her POV, but I don't think we're going to get it. I think all bonus clips will be from the squad's POV, i.e. Eva, Cris, Nora and Viri. Not even Joana.

23) I want a Mallorca special or episode so bad, and I will be so FUCKING ANNOYED if we don't get it. Seriously, I can't imagine the team didn't feel betrayed when they watched Skam for writing purposes, and didn't get their russetide. So they should know how angry we would be if we didn't get even a little bit of Mallorca time.

[chrisevansbabymama]

The Break Up - Part 1

Part One

Y/N was sure of it. Chris was doing this to rub it in her face, to show how happy he was without her; and how his family was happy too. Whilst everything had been going south for her since they’d broken up, it seemed he was also siding with the world against her. She’d been watching the Insta stories of her close friends and family, never flipping past anyone because they were all people she knew intimately. Then Chris’ played straight after, before she even had a chance to skip it. They hadn’t unfollowed or blocked each other yet on their socials, of course this was down to their persistent publicists who’d decided it was best to not give the press any leverage on their break up.

In true Chris fashion, he hadn’t uploaded in a while - he wasn’t even an avid Insta user, so her theory that he was doing this to taunt her made sense.

Home is where the heart is, he captioned a picture of him and the family that seemed to have been taken candidly. Everyone looked so happy. Had this been taken almost six weeks ago, she would have been in there nestled somewhere between him and Dodger.

She’d lingered too long on the picture, smiling back at the faces she’d known as her second family in the last year and a half since they’d met. Then the next one played, and she didn’t want to skip it. She didn’t care if he saw her on the viewers list, she had nothing to lose now anyway.

“Happy birthday ma,” his Bostonian accent boomed, the video showing Lisa sitting at the kitchen counter in a robe scrolling through her phone as he walked up to her.

“Christopher Robert Evans!” She whined, extending her hand towards the phone, trying to block him.

“Whooooaaa,” He laughed, that laugh that she loved so much, “Wow! C’mon, just say ‘hi’ birthday girl,”

“It’s too early for this Chris,” she looked away.

“Why are you up so early on your birthday?” he asked hugging her, then the video cut off after the 15 second allowance.

Y/N had played it over and over again, each time noticing something new; his beard had gotten longer and hair darker. He’d lost weight: he wasn’t as bulky as she remembered him in her arms. But he looked so happy, so it couldn’t have been a post-breakup weight loss. The other times she’d noticed the small details that only she or his friends and family would know; how his nephew had shot up in height, Lisa had painted the kitchen in ecru and rearranged the pantry.

She knew she had to speak to Lisa and wish her a happy birthday. They still talked even after the break up, Lisa was always confident that it was temporary and that he would come to his senses. Y/N doubted it; he’d said some pretty mean things, she’d said some pretty mean things too and she wasn’t sure how they were going to, if ever, recover from that. Even though her heart was going against the grain of her resolve, challenging everything she stood for: to not be taken for a fool by a man. But feelings are a funny thing, and she loved Chris. Despite how he’d taken her for a fool, she still wanted it to work and this to be all over.

But Lisa didn’t pick up Y/N’s call that afternoon. Not even the second one either, the over-thinker she was, Y/N drew to a conclusion that Lisa was too busy with her family now to talk to her. Nor did she even want to talk to the woman that had hurt his son. And that too hurt because he had hurt her.

But the truth was, she wanted Lisa to pick up so she could hear his voice in the background. Even if it was muffled, it was her favourite sound.

“Hi Lisa, it’s Y/N...I uhm, I didn’t want to leave a message of course but I know you’re super busy with the family around. I just wanted to say Happy Birthday! I hope you have an amazing day with everyone. I miss you, sorry I haven’t been in touch much this week, I’ve been super busy. But I hope we can catch up sometime, okay, bye. I love you,”

And just like that, Y/N had spent the whole day glued to her phone endlessly refreshing her Instagram and Twitter hoping for an update. She’d lost the privilege of knowing the intimate details of what he was up to, so if it meant grasping 15 second bursts on Instagram, then that was fine too. She was like one of them now – his followers, only getting the vague and general stuff, and not the direct messages or memes sent directly to her like she used to. That realisation hurt her especially because he hadn’t been posting anything, and the one time he resurfaces he’s with his family, flaunting his joy and life without her. She had posted a lot, (too much even) since the break up, and if she were to be honest, it was for his attention. She wanted him to see how good she’d been looking, the mini dresses, the short shorts, the haircut, the mysterious male hand in her food snaps and the melancholic love quotes. But he hadn’t watched any of the stories, much to her dismay. Scott had, and he would call to check in on her. But he wasn’t Chris!

“Lisa,” Y/N answered later that evening as she settled on the couch with a glass of wine after dinner, resigning from her social media stalking because if she knew Chris well, she knew he wasn’t going to post anymore intimate moments with his family. And if anything, it would be something to do with Dodger or repost something about NASA and the moon and stars.

“Happy birthday!”

“Y/N, sweetie, hi. Thank you so much, how’re you?”

“I’m good Lisa,”

“Sorry I missed your call, it’s chaos over here,” she laughed. “I haven’t had a chance to catch a break since morning,”

“I can imagine. Always keeping you on your toes,” Y/N chuckled softly. “How’s your day been?”

“It’s been busy and full – but so lovely. They sent me to get a massage this morning, then they all cooked lunch. We’re just coming in from dinner. I got your present, you are too kind and generous Y/N. Thank you so much, I really wasn’t expecting it,”

“Oh you’re welcome, I hope you enjoy it,”

Lisa paused, “I uhmm...was hoping you would show up. I really thought when they sent me to the spa that I’d come back home and you’d be there as a surprise. I kept waiting for that opportunity for you to pop up and surprise me,”

Now it was Y/N’s turn to pause. But nothing came out, shocked that Lisa was thinking of her at all on her special day when she was spending it with her family. Even worse, was the gut wrenching feeling in her stomach as Lisa’s words sunk in reminding her how easily she could have been there today, had she maybe just swallowed her pride and parted ways with her inhibiting principals?

“It’ll be okay Y/N. You and Chris, this is just a rough patch,” Lisa reiterated the same song she’d been singing the last few weeks but Y/N no longer believed it.

It’d been weeks. No changes or sign that he was even going to come back. He’d barely fought for the relationship then, so why would he now?

At this point, she was starting to realise that she needed to graduate from the grieving stage of denial and anger to bargaining, and with some time acceptance.

“I don’t know Lisa, I thought so too but, I don’t know,”

“This isn’t right, you two love each other,” Lisa said, almost to herself more than anything. “Why can’t you both see it?”

“Uhm, Lisa I have to go,” Y/N said quickly, awash with emotions that she didn’t think she’d confront today when she’d woken up in a good mood.

No matter how friendly she was with Lisa, this was his mom, so she couldn’t be too reckless and as honest as she wanted to be, but her son had really hurt her and it wasn’t fair that she was painting a picture that both of them were being stubborn. Y/N needed to save the rant for her mom who was used to the late night phone calls and tears. But she loved Lisa too much to lose her by weeping over and ranting about that annoyingly handsome son of hers.

“I’ve got company, sorry. Can I call you tomorrow?” Y/N lied.

“Of course, I better go too, they’re waiting on me to start the movie,” Lisa laughed, both women knowing that she could read through Y/N’s lie.

But Lisa had a way of working her coulda-been-daughter-in-law; she knew the right words to say and a way to speak to her to get her to open up. Tonight wasn’t the right time, especially with her culprit of her son in the room next door and the joyous occasion.

“Ma! Come. On!” Y/N could hear Carly yelling in the background.

“See what I mean?” Lisa laughed.

“I see,” Y/N laughed. “Goodnight Lisa, and don’t worry about Chris and I. Enjoy your birthday,”

“Goodnight honey, we’ll resolve that,” Lisa said. “I love you,”

“Kay, I love you too,”

Y/N chewed on her bottom lip, pensive, sad, wistful, her heart longing for the Evans’ family company, and attention from a certain Evans. If she was there, she and Chris would have snuck out halfway throughout the film and gone for a walk where they would share intimate goals and aspirations. Or they would go on a long drive and end up in a parking lot with mellow background music and heating on in his car, eating McDonald’s off their laps and stealing each other’s fries and dips. Chris would teach her about the constellation. They would make a new playlist together and drive back, sneak back into the house sometime around 2AM and make a messy freakshake that they would have found on Pinterest. They’d stay up in the lounge, whispering quietly with Family Guy in the background and melt into each other as they made out. They’d ultimately end up in his childhood bedroom, squeezing in on his bed. It was a good excuse to cuddle all night long. Chris would wake up with a dead arm but the pillow talk made it worth it.

By the time she’d drowned her third glass of the red wine, her memories and visions of him got blurred and not so pleasant. The vision of the last time she saw him, the day that they broke up kept haunting her but in parts, so she decided to call it a night and waddled up to her bedroom and threw herself on the bed, falling asleep straight away. She didn’t hear her phone ringing and vibrating downstairs.

Baaaaby

Missed Call (2)

And then pinging with message alerts.

Baaaaby: hey Y/N, it’s Chris

Baaaaby: hope you’re ok?

Baaaaby: Call me when you can

Baaaaby: Please*

[lauwrite1225]

Broken Crown || Finan x OC || Chapter 01

Summary :  Since the day he has been enslaved, Finan never thought that he would have to face his origins. But when an old friend made his arrival to Wessex, the Irishman his forced to deal with his past. 

(Flashbacks are in italic.)

English isn’t my first language, if you see any mistakes, tell me :)

Warning : None. 

01 || DANES

Arms crossed against her leather breastplate, Ailis' eyes roamed the battlefield. Guards were burying the lifeless bodies, but there were so many that birds were already flying near. She let out a sigh. So many deaths. Again. 

For few months, Danes were attacking villages in Ulaid. But today, they tried to take Navan Fort, the capital of the Kingdom. They failed, but Ailis knew there will be a next time. Two years ago, the King had ordered the attack of a Dane’s settlement. Now, they wanted revenge. 

She looked away when she heard footsteps approaching. Conall and two guards were walking to her. The King of Ulaid stopped next to her, observing the damages of the battle. He stayed silent as Ailis stared at him. His dark hair was dirty as his face. She could see few tears streaming down his cheeks. He slowly took the crown on his head and with a scream of rage, that surely could be heard miles from here, he threw it away. She watched it fall on the grass, next to a Dane's body. She waited a moment for Conall to calm down. 

“We need help.” She simply said. 

“Damn them.” Mumbled Conall. 

“They'll come back and we need allies to face them.”

“I know.” On this word, he left her side. She sighed, once again. 

The wind made her shivered. It was almost dawn and the atmosphere started to be colder. She tightened up the cloak on her shoulders and followed Conall. 

They walked down the ramparts and entered in the throne room, full of people speaking. All voices shut as Conall crossed the crowd, Ailis just behind him. Dealla, the Queen, was already standing near the throne. Ailis could feel her viper eyes on her. She ignored it. Conall sat on his throne and she stood next to him. 

He slowly brushed his beard as whispers filled the room. Ailis bit her lips. She could easily imagine what they were saying. Conall's crown was endangered since he was made King. She couldn't even count how many treasons were planned by the Lords of Ulaid. Hopefully, none of them ever see the day.

Conall suddenly stood up, making the room silent once again. “This has to end.” He made few steps towards the Lords. “We won't let the Danes ransack our lands any longer.” 

“But Lord King, we don’t have enough men.” Said a young Lord. He seemed to quickly regret his intervention when Conall looked to him with his deep brown eyes full of anger.

“I know.” He said in a soft tone. “That's why we will need an ally. A strong ally.” Ailis smiled a little. Finally, Conall will ask for the help of the other kingdoms of Ireland. “An ally that has already defeated the Danes. And which Kingdom has done it better than Wessex?”

Voices rose up. Ailis' mouth opened in shock. How could he expect Wessex to help them? The Kingdom was at the other side of the sea. They had not made any contact with Wessex since decades. This was complete madness. But Conall seemed determined. He raised his hand in the air to have the Lords’ attention once again.

“Enough !” He shouted. “We will make of Wessex our ally. For years, they fight against the Danes. This will be their occasion to put an end to it.” He walked back to his throne. “I will send my most trusted friend to Wessex.” He turned to look at Ailis. Of course, it would be her. They knew each other since they were kids. She had always been faithful to him, whatever his choices.  Even after that day. No matter how much she hated him for what he had done, she would follow him.

A wide smile was on Conall’s face, but she couldn’t give it back to him. He ordered for the Lords to leave the throne room. Ailis looked to the Queen. The two women had never been friends. Dealla was desperately jealous of her. Of the interest the King had in her. She always thought the beautiful red hair was his whore. But Ailis couldn’t be mad at her. After all, Conall was a King and he could have any woman. Anyone would be prone to jealousy.

“My love, how can you be so sure that King Edward will accept?” Asked Dealla taking his hand into hers.

“I’m sure of nothing. But he has to accept.” He softly smiled at her, caressing her cheek with his fingers.

“And how?” Challenged Ailis on such a harsh tone that it could break a stone. “We have no real army anymore and Wessex have no interest in Ireland. It is madness to request them to be our allies. God, why can’t you ask the help of the other Kingdom of Ireland.” Conall frowned. He walked to her until there was just a small gap between them.

“Exactly because Wessex has no interest in our lands. I am no fool Ailis. If I ask the aid of the other Irish King, they will know of our weakness and take advantage.” He grabbed her shoulders and smirked once more. “Convince him Ailis.” She bit her lip, wondering how she would make Edward accept the proposal. Feeling her uncertainty, Conall’s smiled disappeared. He leaned down to her ear and whispered. “Let the King hump you if needed.” She frowned as he kissed her cheek and walked away with Dealla.

She remained in the throne room for a moment, thinking of Conall’s words. Their childhood was far from them and the boy she used to know either. Conall had always been ambitious. When they were kid, he dreamt of travels and adventures. But his duty as King has taken everything. He was never meant to be the ruler, being only a second child. Yet, he was. And now, he was an embittered man, gnawed by a role that exceeded him.

She shook her head and left the throne room. She had a long journey to prepare.

 …

 Two days after the attack, Ailis was ready to leave. Three horses were waiting in front of Navan Fort’s gates, two for the soldiers that will accompany her and one for her. She was adjusting the bag on the saddle when she heard her name being called out. She turned back to discover a young monk with a bag on his shoulder. She sighed when she recognized the chestnut hair boy.

Rohan was the first-born son of Queen Dealla. When she married Conall, he sent him away to a monastery, as well his younger brother, Bran. They were toddlers when they left the castle. However, Conall never prevented Dealla to visit her sons. All he wanted was them far from Navan Fort.

“Rohan, you shouldn’t be here.” She said as she rolled her eyes. It was not the first time Rohan was fleeing the monastery. In fact, Ailis was used to meet him in the walls of the city. He was pretty good at hiding from the guard and so, he had never been caught.

“Let me come with you.” He declared as he stopped in front of her. He was taller than her, almost a man. But in his mind, he was still a boy.

“I can’t.” She turned her back on him and returned to her previous occupation.

“Why?” He protested, stepping to the other side of the horse so she could see him.

“I can’t bring a bastard in a royal court.” She answered, pointing her finger to him. His expression turned into an upset one.

“I’m not a bastard Ailis. You know that.” He growled. No, technically he wasn’t a bastard. He was the fruit of a legitimate marriage with Conall’s brother. But since his father was gone and Conall was married to his mother, he and his brother counted no more than bastards. At least, that was what the King hoped. Rohan and Bran were legitimate children and therefor, legitimate heirs. “I don’t want to be a monk for all my life. I want to be a warrior.”

“Listen, Rohan.” She plunged her blue eyes into his, green as an emerald. “Conall sent you in the monastery because he fears for his crown. If I allow you to learn to fight, he’ll think that you’ll kill him one day or another.”

“But I won’t!” He exclaimed.

“Then, you go back to your monastery.” She put a foot into the stirrup and she settled on her mount. She looked down to the disappointed boy and gently took his chin between her fingers. “Your brother needs you.” He turned his head and started to walk away. She pinched her lips as she watched him leave. She couldn’t help but think of his father. They didn’t look a lot like each other, but they had the same temperament. 

She made a sign to the two guards that were also ready to leave. She pressed the sides of her horse with her hills and it started walking before trotting. The group left Navan Fort, following the road to the port of Ulfreksfjord.

 …

 Ailis was hiding behind the giant door of the throne room. Tables were setting in the hall and a great number of Lords from all Ulaid were sitting. Ale flowed, making them speak loudly. From where she was, the young girl could see her father, right next to the King. They were laughing with Prince Irial, the King’s son. She smiled at the joy emanating from the banquet.

“What are you doing here?” She quickly turned around to face Finan. The King’s nephew was four years older than her, but yet he wasn’t allowed to participate to the festivities.

“Nothing. I’m just, watching.” He raised an eyebrow, but did not say a word. Joining her against the door, he stared into the throne room. He was a head taller than Ailis and so, he could perfectly see what was going on. He rested his eyes on the King’s place. At his other side, there was Finan’s father. The two were very similar with jet hair and deep brown eyes. Even their features were much alike.

“Maybe one day you will be the one in the middle.” Declared Ailis. The young Prince frowned and looked down to her. “They say that Prince Irial isn’t going to be King.”

“Who told you that?”

“I heard it by my father.” She stared at him. He seemed not really convinced by her answer. “The Prince is a drunk.” She added. Finan looked back to the banquet, raising his shoulders.

“I don’t want to be King.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a life full of constraint. I’d rather be a warrior.”

A/N : You can’t imagine how nervous I am to post the first chapter aha. This chapters and the next one are quite small but it’ll be longer then ;). 

Most of the firsts chapters will be devided in between the present (set after season 4) and the past (before season 2). 

I hope you liked this first chapter and don’t hesitate to give your opinion, it always interest me ! :D

Tagged : @astral-finan @geekandbooknerd @pokeasleepingsmaug @queen-manning @kelly-fasel @naihqh @ucancallmechlo​  <3

[barnesbabee]

Pay Up iKON Junhoe x READER

I have requests open, so pelase do request away!

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Summary: Unpaid debts from illegal gambling take you to meet the ruthless gang boss whom you owed money to, but how will you paay him?

Pairing: Koo Junhoe (June) x Reader

Words: Several, I’d say

Genre: Smut 

A/N: there’s some heavy stuff here, so if you’re not very comfortable with extremes I would advise you to skip this!

  “No... Please! Please give me another chance, I promise I can do this I-I’ll do anything!” You begged, tears threatening to fall from your distressed eyes.

  “Sorry love, ain’t no breakin’ the rules...” 

   The big man with the rough beard wearing a heavy-looking leather vest collected the remaining chips on the table, after showing his royal flush.

   Your head sunk low. Small whimpers and sniffs could be heard, and although you wouldn’t show your pained expression, all of the men in the room could tell you were crying.

    “How are you gonna pay love?” 

    The rules of this Poker game with a twist were pretty simple: if you didn’t have enough chips to even the ones on the table but still didn’t want to fold, you would write on a paper the ammount still needed and throw it near the chips that represented quantities of money.

   You slowly lifted your head. Your eyes looked dead, even though they were crying, and your hair seemed as if it hadn’t known a hairbrush in weeks.

   You chuckled at the question. The situation was nowhere near being funny however.

    “I-I’m... I’m not. I can’t play this.”

    One of the men she had been playing against looked visibly shocked: his head immediately turned to her, his eyes grew twice their size and his mouth opened a little. The man that had received all of the chips stopped counting the plastic pieces to look at the brave girl who had just said that. The rest of the men had a mixture of pity and shock in their expressions.

    “Ya done messed up girl... I’m sorry but from here on it ain’t my department no more.” The dealer said, raised his hand, and made a movement with it so as to call over one of the big men all dressed in black that stood by the door.

    “This young lady ain’t able to pay, would you escort her to Boss so he could handle it?”

    The man said nothing, he simply nodded and walked next to your chair. You stood up calmly and started walking. You weren’t going to fight it, there was no point in trying to run from a gang... She had better luck fleeing the country, but with what money?

    “Good luck darlin’ you gonna need it with that man...” One of the other players said, before you left.

    After a couple minutes of walking and climbing stairs, they arrived to a hallway that had one door only. The big man knocked on said door.

    “Can it wait?” A man yelled in a deep, raspy voice from the inside of the rooms.

    The guard looked down at you and then at the door.

    “Where would we keep her?” 

    The question made by the man startled you. 

    Oh God, what had you walked into!?

    But to ease your mind, a sigh was heard.

   “Go ahead...” He said from the inside.

    The guard finally opened the door, grabbed your arm and pushed you in.

    The man in the large room was standing by the big window, looking outside and sipping a glass of whiskey.

    He turned around to face you and made a nasty face. You must have looked like a mess...

    The man sat behind a desk and stared at you.

   “Well, are you going to sit down or will I have to call in the big guy to sit you down?”

    You scurried to the chair and took a seat.

    The person in front of you seemed a little too young to be the Boss of a gang, but he certainly looked like one: his lip had a scar, and it seemed like it had been busted pretty recently, his cheek was stitched up, his torso and forearms (that were mostly exposed due to the rolled up sleeves and unbottuned white shirt) were painted with permanent ink and his eyes looked like he had never loved anything in his life.

    “You’re making me annoyed. Why are you not speaking? We’re not here for a picnic, I don’t think I need to tell you I’m not a fucking fortune teller, I can’t foresee why you’re here.” He told you in a condescending tone.

    You were already nervous, and this approach sure as Hell wasn’t happening.

    “I can’t pay.” You finally let out.

    The man, who was taking another sip of his drink, just raised an eyebrow at you.

    “What else is new... We don’t take late payments, so you can choose between finding a way to pay me right now or mysteriously disappearing one day.” He threatened.

    You could feel sweat starting to form on your forehead as you swallowed air.

    “I can... pay you another way.” You said as you leaned your breasts on top of his desk and bit your lip while winking at the man.

   To your surprise, the Boss just rolled his eyes.

   “If I accepted every of those requests” he started as he stood up “do you even imagine how many women I would have had by now? I’m sure you can imagine that if I wanted to fuck someone I wouldn’t have a problem. If that was all you had to offer, you may go.”

    Your knees suddenly felt weak. No, no, no ,no! This couldn’t possibly be happening! This desperation clouding your mind brought one last idea.

    “My life.”

    This caught the man’s interest. He turned around and looked at you, whom stood up.

    “I’m sorry?”

    “I’ll give you my life. I’m yours. You’ve had many girls, but I bet you’ve never had one to call your possession. To be whoever you wanted her to be. A costumizable sex slave.”

    You could see the man’s lips crack a smirk. The man would have been lying if he said that a “costumizable sex slave” didn’t sound like music to his ears.

   He stepped closer to you and put his glass down on his desk.

   “You think you can take it?” He asked, as he traced your jaw with his finger.

   “Test me.”

    The smirk that was once on his lips had turned into a full dirty smile. He looked behind you, and you followed his eyes with your own.

   “That’s the bathroom. Fix yourself up and meet me out here once you’re done.”

    You smiled a little and hushed to the room. You were quick to find a hairbrush and a towel, which was basically all you needed. You fixed your hair quickly and washed your face. Then, you removed all of your clothes, leaving you only in your red lace underwear. You hadn’t planned for this to happen, but you thanked God you decided to wear something nice under your clothes today.

     Once you were happy with your look, you opened the door and stepped out, striking a pose as you stopped.

     Junhoe, who was already shirtless took a good look at you and smiled.

    “Now we’re talking.”

    He called you over using his finger, and like a good girl you obeyed.

    “How’s my slave named then?” He asked, while his hands roamed free on your body.

    “Y/N. How should I call my master?”

    The pet name you called the man made him smile, and feel some type of way down there.

    “My name is Junhoe, but I like to hear that pretty mouth call me master.”

    As your arms flung around his neck, his hand brought your hips closer together by his large hand tightly groping your ass.

    “Your wish is my command master.”

    Junhoe groaned and latched his lips onto yours. He didn’t take it slow, quite the opposite, he went as harsh as possible. 

    When his lips left yours, he started kissing down your jaw and neck. He bit and sucked harshly on your neck, causing you to tangle your fingers in his hair and moan loudly.

    “Undress me and suck this cock.” Junhoe whispered in your ear whilst grabbing your cheeks.

    “Yes master.”

    You got on your knees and undid the belt and zipper of the suit pants. You brought them down, along with his briefs and the man stepped out of the clothing items.

    His lenght was standing proudly in front of your face, and you were loving it. You encircled your hands around his cock and spat on it, so you could start by slowly pumping him. 

    Once you saw him roll his eyes out of pleasure, you licked a stripe along his member and started bobbing your head, following your hand movements.

    A couple seconds after, Junhoe grabbed the back of your head and started thursting into your mouth, making you gag on his cock. 

    Junhoe’s eyes were closed and his mouth was agape. The sounds you were making were the best thing he had heard all month.

     As he was about to come he pulled out. The man instructed you to get up, and you oblied. He reached on your back and skillfully unclasped your bra, then removing it.

    “On the floor. All fours.”

     “Yes master.”

    You got on all floors on top of the rug. You felt the man kneel down behind you and pull down the rest of your underwear. 

   “Open up.” He said, holding your panties balled up near your mouth. 

   You opened your mouth, only for it to be stuffed with your own underwear.

   “Everytime you make a sound, you’ll be punished, understand?”

    You spoke a muffled “Yes master”, then earning a sharp pain in your ass.

    “What did I say princess?”

     Junhoe started by kissing your thigh, then around your core, and when his tongue started pushing in and out of you, oh boy shit got real. You wanted to scream out his name but you knew you couldn’t.

   You sunk your head in the rug to try and help your situation, but to your surprise, Junhoe pulled away from your wet pussy and his hand flew across your ass.

    “Mantain your position.”

    You nodded, and he kept licking long stripes on your womanhood, this time adding three fingers as well, pulling them in and out as fast as he could. 

    He stopped once more, but only to flip you around, so he could see your face as he played with you pussy like it was his own toy.

    Junhoe continued licking you and fingering you. Your face was as red as the walls of the room, and the both of your knew you were about to come. 

     “Kitten wants to come?”

     Junhoe watched you nod impatiently and he smirked. He pulled out his fingers, denying your orgasm. You whined silently at that.

      Your master proceeded to remove your “gag” and shoved in your mouth the three fingers that had been on you. You sucked on them, and licked each finger clean, and oh it was a sight to see.

      “Oh babydoll, I’m gonna fuck you so hard.” Junhoe groaned, as he settled between your legs and slapped your thighs.

      “Please master, I can’t wait for your cock to fuck me.”

     This was Junhoe’s kryptonite. He pushed into you and pounded you like there was no tomorrow. You were yelling for his name loudly, as he fucked you mercilessly. One of his hands grabbed your thigh, while the other reached for your neck and choked you harshly, adding some new marks to the ones that had been made by his mouth.

      You couldn’t handle all of this anymore so you clenched around his hard member and you came, hard. Your mouth let out a loud moan and your legs trembled. 

      “On your knees.” Junhoe demanded after a couple more thrusts, as he stood up.

    You obeyed quickly, and he started pumping his dick near your face.

    “Please let me be your cum slut master.”

    “Oh my God...” He growled in a low voice and threw his head back.

     A few more pumps and he came, spewing his warm liquid all over your face.

    The only thing audible in the room were heavy breathings for a while, with the two of you trying to regain your normal breath, but then, Junhoe spoke.

    “Welcome to the gang Y/N”