#revelation 18 and america

[books-by-gauss]

Resources on Israel and the Middle East and Islam that shed light on the war in the Middle East.

[marinas-drafts]

Honeymoon

A Sky High Lovin’ segment, the swingin’ 60’s

Summary: If weddings are for the bride then it suggests that Honeymoon’s are for the groom -a stupid cliche you had dismissed until your dashing groom proves a little inexorable in his intent to “educate” his new bride on the long Learjet flight to Honolulu

Warnings 18+: (sex, dubious consent) I am about to possibly over exaggerate these cautions but I find it necessary, particularly for anyone who is used to reading my work because this is by far the most dubious consent piece I ever ever written and the theme is entirely narratively sympathetic to entitled husbands and female objectification. So, as it’s me, of course there’s love and tenderness but it’s also got -repeatedly denied requests to stop during sex, innocence kink, possible male enjoyment of a recent virgin’s discomfort, nasty baby talk, worry about a man being unfaithful if you deny him, talks of teaching you how to take him, (possible grooming?!) assumed husbandly entitlement to a wife’s body, archaic views on gender roles… y’all, I ripped off Pricilla and went full Lana Del Rey and glorified breaking a woman into her husbands tastes, like, that’s the theme and it’s reveling in it so, enjoy but heads up 🌷🎀🌷

Repost here from my main: @precious-little-scoundrel

There’s something very salacious in the simple act of walking across the tarmac amidst a swarm of reporters clicking away with their cameras, ready to print the image of your little figure pressed against his side, images for all the world to look at and know what occurred to you last night.

What you two did. How he made you his. On your wedding night.

He made you a woman, his woman and the whole world knows it now. There’s something so damn dirty about this, even -or perhaps because- of how traditional it is. The ring sits with a comforting weight on your finger as he holds your hand, and your belly aches from your husband drawing his pleasure from your virgin body, your thighs trembling as you try your best to keep up with his long strides in your kitten heels. It’s so proper, it’s everything he ever wanted, and it makes your cheeks burn beneath the generous layer of makeup.

He looks painfully handsome and happy this morning, impeccably polished in the bright sunshine and you wonder at his duality. The way he can clean up and regain his proud suavity when last night you had seen him mussed, tremblingly tender and near unhinged in his passion while consummating your union. A dab of pomade, a double breasted jacket and his wife’s little hand in his -he’s utterly in possession of himself now and is the fuckin’ American dream incarnate right in this moment.

He’s very proud as he introduces you to some of the familiar press faces, and very gallant as he guides you up the few steps into the Learjet, broad palm searing your lower back and you wish you two could have remained tangled up in sheets, honeymoon and travel arrangements abandoned indefinitely. Just you and him floating together in a sky of crisp sheets and tangled limbs.

The photographers crowd in after you, soaking up the shy way you cuddle in close as he tucks you into his side, sympathetic to your own desire to be alone but too happy to begrudge anyone a glimpse at his little prize. Uhem, bride. The amount of satisfaction he finds in you is palatable to all here, his arm around you holds you close and grounds you even as his face splitting grin proclaims that you were a tight but obedient fit last night.

Your eyes burn you’re blushing so hard and that makes him grin harder and it’s pavlovian that smile, you can’t help but grin back, harder and crinklier than his and that stokes his joy further and soon y’all are giggling over memories the photographers will never be privy to. Those are yours, frantic and tender and aching.

Even the ever hungry photographers are glutted by the loved up display you give them, and soon they are departing and the plane door is shut. Then it’s goodbye America, off to Honolulu.

The tiny jet crew and the couple of boys from his paired down entourage settle into their seats as the jet roars down the runway and lifts off, effortless, soaring and sleek. Beside him you are restless, shifting and jittery on the leather seat, though he is gratified to see the demure way you cross your ankles and the ladylike poise of your spine even surrounded by the comparative privacy. His perfect southern Belle, whose every thought and action and word is to reflect well upon him and keep his name from disrepute, he couldn’t have chosen better. Your mouthwatering submission last night proved it.

You squirm again. Maintaining the modest coverage of your pretty little shift dress, the one accented with navy bows that coordinate with his suit, requires you to keep your upper thighs pressed together tightly, squeezing the bruise of your freshly opened little flower as it pulses distractingly, as if in flustered shock at its sudden required usage. Throbbing, sticky and hot.

“What’s my lil lady doin all that fidgetin for, hmm?” he asks you, tone solicitous but his eyes glint, “Plush leather seats not soft enough for my baby’s bottom?”

You startle and blush, just as he knew you would, and it’s adorable really, the way you can still be bashful after months of foolin and despite the recent intimacy of the night before. And it’s downright precious that you are so sore and achy after he had been so painstakingly gentle when he took you. You had no clue how sweet he’d been, the amount of self sacrifice he had shown in his languid slide and shallow thrusts, tender kisses and gentle grip. Resolutely holding back the absolute wreckage he could unleash on your poor, widdle unsuspecting cunt.

“Just excited.” your body vibrates as you shake your arms to highlight your explanation, gesturing to the wide blue sky out your window and the decadent interior of the jet.

He grins down at you and kisses your cheek, reaching for the seatbelt fastened at your lower belly and he flicks it open with his thumb, the heat of his hand branding you like an iron for the brief contact. “Lemme show ya round then, baby.”

He folds your hand in his again and weaves you down the aisle between the padded seats and towards the back of the plane, the occasional stray crew member meekly ducking towards the cockpit. You two pass the music lounge with its built-in piano and electric fireplace, then the kitchenette with its circular bar and spherical burst of lights coming out of the wall like cascading planets, back towards the little bedroom. You marvel at the designs, the colors, the unabashed wealth of it all floating thousands of feet above solid earth.

Happy and giddy you tuck into his side and he holds you close, arm snug around your waist, satisfied to show his little wife all he has to offer her.

“Y'know,” he serves as your guide, supplying details and anecdotes, most of which you already know but would listen to, enraptured a thousand times to keep him free and easy with his conversation, “Frank n' i didn't really get along when i first started out. ‘Said my music was brutal n' ugly. But we get along now. met 'im in person right after i met you. Reckon' ya rubbed off on me 'cause now we're good friends n’he lent us this jet to defile as we saw fit." his tongue pokes between his teeth, amused at himself and you find there is something cutely self-deceptive about his rare fits of humble bragging. “He’s got a mirror down here, nice big ole Broadway style vanity with it, bright lights n’low counter.” you’re far back into the plane now, he holds back a dividing curtain and you step into the little hallway dressing room right in front of the inauspicious bedroom door, “Frank uses this setup to primp before goin down the ramp to meet fans or shovin off for the next concert, reckon it’ll serve for the lesson I wanna show ya.”

Curious as to his plan, you look to him, both his image reflected in the huge, bare bulbed mirror and his own dear face beside you, more than a little pleased to see what a striking couple you make in the reflection, with his tailored suit and your chic smock, an IT couple without a doubt. It makes you feel pretty, wanted, a little proud maybe. That you won out of all those other hopeful girls. He sees your pleased expression in the mirror, the way your hip cocks and your expression morphs to your best kittenish smile. You’re preening. You think you’ve made it, think you’re at the summit of what life can offer and he may be partial but he thinks you wear smugness rather cutely. Makes him wanna shake ya up, rumple you a little, remind you who gave you all this. That your new image and importance and identity are due to being Mrs Presley.

He scoots up behind you, wrapping his arms around your belly and pulling you close to him, his chin settles atop your head. “Likin what you see?” he asks slyly, staring at the reflected image that will be on every magazine and newspaper tomorrow, the King of Rock n Roll and his perfect little darling who thinks she’s a woman now that she took cock once.

He runs his hands along your body, broad palms gathering then smoothing out puckers and rolls in the fabric of your dress as he follows the curve of you, breast to thigh and back up, then back down, further this time. He squats a little behind you and his clever fingers hook in your hem line and begin to draw it up, little by little exposing more and more leg in the mirror.

“Oh, no I-“ your hand flys to the apex of your thighs, pressing the fabric against you and keeping a covering there as his gathering has pulled your dress nearly to your little secret place, “what are you doin Elvis?” you ask, a little unsure and bashful of him exposing you in this somewhat public place, even if the crew is nowhere to be seen and the curtain is drawn.

It’s obscene to rumple up the perfect couple, all the starch and pomade that make Elvis Presley and his new bride the envy of the world. And it’s worrying. He does not know you omitted underwear today, the feeling of the fabric chafing and holding in the heat of your tender pussy too much to bear while maintaining a proper face on the tarmac.

“Gonna show ya somethin,” he repeats, eyebrow quirked at your “no” and the nervous way you are almost cupping the last few inches of your dress over your private parts.

He keeps ahold of the fabric he’s gathered up so far and takes to running his knuckles up your side soothingly again, till he notices there’s no band or catch on your hips as he glides up.

“You hidin somethin from me, honey?” he asks, already knowing the answer and the reason for your flaming cheeks, “Keepin secrets from your husband already, denyin him his right?” he tuts and your pretty coal rimmed eyes fly open in denial as you shake your head and pull your hand away. “That's more like it.” He nods approvingly, and ever the showman he waits a minute, building the suspense as his hands continue to map out your clothed body as your breathing quickens. In the mirror both your eyes zero in on the barely hidden triangle between your legs. Then with a flourish and flick of his wrist he swoops the hem up and a rush of cold air hits your exposed pussy. You slump into him and await his verdict. “Darlin, what’s this?“ he asks you gravely, his eyes very dark in the mirror and there you are, pristine up top and entirely bare below, it’s -vulgar. Vulgar and salacious with a fully suited man behind you shaking his head in disappointment that you’d be so careless on your first day as Mrs Presley, risking flashing the photographers or the flight crew because you were too delicate to stand a little fabric. He expects more of you, and he knows you know that.

You mix your explanation with your apology, looking like an eager to please little foal on shaky legs, and he accepts it with another tut and a hum as he rolls your dress up methodically until its bulk is beneath your armpits. The shame you feel in being so exposed is your own fault, your own doing, you know that.

If you’d obeyed you would currently have some demure scrap of silk covering you in the full glare of the showbiz mirror. But now you are bare to his blazing eyes. Your handsome new husband inspects you closely in the mirror, his ringed fingers trailing over your hips and over your belly, swooping up your ribs and tickling the underside of your breasts. Back down he goes, hands gliding and palms warm and broad, spanning much of your abdomen in his reach, down and down till he is petting your mound. Your arms dangle listlessly at your sides, entirely unsure what your part in this is, except to submit to whatever he wishes.

“You say your lil pussy is tenda, hmm?” he understands your motive now, and coos solicitously over your discomfort, even as he smirks at the notion you’re sore from that pathetically gentle love making. It snaps something primal deep inside him, or at least, he thinks that’s what made the decision for him, the decision to enlighten you that last night may have been real nice, but it weren’t typical. He can’t have a wimpy wife, he knows you’re made of tougher stuff, just needs to be coaxed out of you. “A little discomfort ain’t no reason for ya to risk showin the world Mrs. Presley’s goods, is it?” he observes and you nod in abashed agreement.

“No it isn’t,” your tone is fervent and you are so eager to make amends, “I’m sorry Elvis, I wasn’t thinking, I’ll do better.”

“I expect you to.” he says, not unkindly but you gulp and nod anyway, unmoored by his effortless authority. “Now, let’s see about this lil owie, hmm? Spread your legs for me, c��mon wider, that’s a good girl.”

You moan as his hand engulfs you’re throbbing heat, cupping the wounded little place and pressing it firm but gently with his palm. He can feel the thud of your heartbeat down there and the sticky proof of your excitement at just being near him. There’s heat pouring out from you too, a lotta heat. Half of it arousal no doubt, but it’s angry down there like a woman gets during her menses. Puffy and sweltering against his palm.

It’s gonna feel indescribably good around his cock.

“Now we’ve opened ya up,” he explains softly in your ear, “she’s gonna get all fussy down there if she’s left empty for too long.”

You meet his eyes in the mirror with a worried look, unconvinced that emptiness is at all the cause of your discomfort. You feel like something got rearranged down there and needs to be left to mend itself in peace. Preferably in a hot bubble bath. The one luxury this floating palace doesn't have.

“You trust me, don’t ya?” he asks your fretful expression proddingly, “Don’t want ya to close back up all th’way. Go too long and then we’d be starting from scratch each time, you understand baby?”

That does make sense. You swallow your fear and shake your head agreeably. Why shouldn’t you?

He was so tender last night, so romantic and gentle and chivalrous. He had kissed away all your fear and worry into the fluffy bed, sending you careening into bliss and flinging you up to the stars before gently pressing in when you least expected it. It had hurt then, sure, a little pinch and an uncomfortably full feeling he helped soothe by tilting your hips with a courteous pillow beneath them.

Making love had been nice, unexpectedly nice.

And better yet had been the sight of your gorgeous groom, shaking in effort to hold back his vigor as he worked himself in and out above you, gentle and kind, slowly losing a grip on his decorum and letting out sounds of pleasure and praise. There had almost been a whine on his lips as he stalled suddenly and clung to your shoulders and spilled inside you, cementing your union. It had made you feel gloriously happy, and a little smug to see him come undone from the feeling of being inside you.

He earned your trust.

“I understand.” you assure him, the little kisses he is pressing to your neck making you brave. You’d like to see him come undone again. If that means he has to go inside you again then you’ll accept that. Maybe he was right last night, maybe it’ll be even better today.

“That’s my good baby.” he praises you, pleased and handsome over your shoulder, “Gonna turn you into the best little wife the world has ever seen.” he starts to drag his fingers through your bruised petals and you make a ugly little grimace at the soreness before seeing how unpretty it looks in the mirror, consciously changing your expression to demure acceptance. The shiny pink of your lipstick highlights the baby doll serenity of your gentle smile.

“Take me to bed, please, Elvis.” you try to play along with him, desperate to show him your excitement and desire to please.

“Aww now, we’re not goin’ to bed this time, darlin, we’re gonna have a lil lesson so you ain’t in the dark bout marital duties and all that.”

You stiffen in his arms, confused and wary. He keeps nuzzling at your cheek and neck. You had anticipated that there might be adventurous trysts once married, sure. He had proven himself fond of messing with you outside the bedroom during your courtship, fingers playing with you under tables and in hotel elevators. You had prepared for him gently making love to you on a picnic blanket under a Hawaiian moon. Maybe in the tub, or heavens -perhaps the kitchen if he was ravenous. But you’re concerned now that you haven’t grasped his entitlement fully, you’re still trying to understand what he means by “lesson” and why he led you to this vanity. You have a shaky feeling that your embarrassment at being flashed in front of the mirror is about to pale in comparison to what he has planned.

His hand goes from petting your sticky folds to rubbing and swirling, calloused fingertips worrying your bud till you’re nearly keening in enjoyment. He hasn’t looked you in the eyes in a minutes. You keep watching his face as his expression goes from intent to hungry, watching himself fiddling down there with your pink petals as he gets you primed. Primed for the two insistent fingers that plunge into you with no warning. It’s easier this time, having had a coke bottle up there, even just once, did the trick, his fingers meeting far less resistance than last night. He’s made his mark, claimed ya and stretched ya. Never the same again.

His movements burn for you, tugging and persistent as they are and you wince, can’t help it with the way his elegant digits are caressing your sore walls at a foreignly fast pace. You hope that maybe not looking at the rough act will ease your discomfort, like looking away from the needle poke when giving blood helps you keep from getting queasy. The sounds though, wet and squelching, are unmistakable despite the hum of the jet's engines. You watch his face, hoping he’ll look up and meet your eyes, but he’s transfixed by the sight in the mirror of his fingers disappearing into you.

“Gimme your hands, baby.” his sudden instruction startles you as you had flown far away in your mind, trying to reconcile the conflicting amounts of embarrassment and arousal you feel under his heated scrutiny. Who knew married life would cause such a upheaval inside?

“Yes sir.” you present them palms up, and he jerks his chin,

“Now baby, listen, you’re gonna replace my hands while I get myself ready, alright, gonna keep my progress for us. C’mon, hand on each side, pull your lips apart, gonna spread your snatch nice n wide so you can really see the mechanics of the thang. The act.”

The act? What act - you figured if this was going to happen to you at the vanity he would spin you around and set you on the counter, take you kindly as you sat. He had licked you in a movie set bathroom like that one time. Your brain scrambles in confusion and panic, supplying the only familiar acts and positions you’ve tried so far. A man can’t take a woman standing, he can’t, it wouldn’t fit, or at least, it wouldn’t be nice, surely and he wouldn’t be anything but nice-

“Now,” he’s speaking up again, “squeeze your arms a lil, gotta keep your dress nice and clear of the exhibit, ok?” he snickers at the way your dress is bunched beneath your underarms.

You make a respectful noise of acknowledgment, too nervous to say more. Your folds are puffy and slippery beneath your numb fingers as you pull your labia apart like he instructed. This feels new, keeping clothes on while being intimate. It feels…irreverent and dirty somehow. Just like standing here, your whole reflection lit brilliantly and his eyes still glued to that place between your legs.

You watch him pull away from behind you and start to methodically undo the buttons of his double breasted suit jacket, sliding it off his lean arms and folding it carefully over a towel rack, “Ya see, darlin,” he explains, as he undoes his cuff buttons and starts to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt, “it's only proper you know what it looks like when we're joined together. I’ve got no desire to keep ya in the dark bout somethin God says is a good thing. This isn't the olden days, I don't mind having an enlightened sorta gal. So long as you don’t turn into the bra-burning sort of enlightened.”

He meets your eyes then as he gives you a look from under his lashes, admonishing you to stay away from such nonsensical, feministic, man-hating company as his deft fingers pop open the button of his slacks and he pulls himself out, weeping, thick and ready. You had no idea he was already so fully excited, your legs begin to tremble anew. He looks larger like this, somehow, all poshly dressed and admirably sauve in the mirror as his cock juts out of his tailored slacks, a single indecorous vulgarity marring his pristine Ken Doll image.

You flush red hot at the sight of him

lazily pumping himself as he saunters back to you, his hand yanking and pulling to chub himself up and then a thumb swirling around the uncut tip. He’s leaking and messy already, a profusion of precum wetting his hand and you give a silent prayer of thanks that at least he will add to the slick, hopefully ease the slide.

He doesn’t waste time with romance, he takes his place again behind you and this time you feel him sliding between your cheeks and then your legs, the feel of his open fly and belt against your bare butt. Due to your obediently spread lips, it’s perfectly visible when he slides through your folds and pokes out the other side, a pink, blunt, oozing cockhead playing peek-a-boo in your garden. He bumps your clit again and again with it until you are huffily shivering in his arms.

“Elvis are you really gonna-“ you can’t bear the suspense of it, you have to ask him his intentions, if he really means to make love to you standing up.

“-really gonna fuck my new wife in front of this state of the art mirror?” he laughs, thinking he knows what your quibble is, “Goddamn right I am, be a crime to not avail ourselves of the experience.”

He punctuates his enunciated vocabulary with rough thrusts against your bud that have you shaking and coming…just a little. Just enough for him to be sure you’re ready to take him.

“Fuck me?” you repeat in a panicked whisper, “B-b-but I’m your wife, Elvis!” you object, wounded.

He gets confused, stalling with his hand as he lines himself up with your freshly excavated entrance, “Whadda ya mean, honey?” he asks kindly, reaching around to tilt your chin towards him, but you sense that there’s an impatient edge to it.

You tearfully explain to him how your mother and other women have told you very explicitly you that men don’t fuck their wives. They make love to them. You are very adamant regarding it, and he ought to know better.

“Why baby, that’s the single greatest pile of horseshit I’ve ever heard.” he declares in fond amusement, smooching your tear stained cheek and resuming his rutting through your folds, “You gonna trust some ole ninnies over your husband? Baby, I gave ya a real nice wedding night cause I love ya and you’re my special girl and I thought it your due, but I ain’t gonna be saddled with a wife who can’t meet my needs when I need a quick fuck, ya hear me? Case in point is now, my dick’s about to fall off from all this chit chat.”

You suppose there’s a great deal about marriage that is far more complicated than movies and books and Sunday potlucks led you to believe. It’s hard balancing how to please your husband as you ought with retaining some dignity that will make him respect you. You can’t imagine Elvis ever not respecting you, it’s too ingrained in him and what he wants isn’t to humiliate you, it’s what he needs to be satisfied. And you so badly want to keep him satisfied, you know deep down you’d do unspeakable things to keep his attention on you, perhaps that is where your shame comes from. It’s less about his expectations and more about the fact you’d throw away all your mother’s teachings before causing him to go elsewhere for comfort and acceptance.

You turn your head to him and pucker your lips for a kiss of acquiesce, which he obliges. His hand is still firm on your jaw as he deepens it, and it’s heady and passionate and loving and -he’s breaching you suddenly. A squat and flex and tilt of his hips and then he’s snagged your hole and he is pressing up and up and up and you whine into his mouth as his foreskin rolls back in your canal, an extra friction against your raw walls.

“Elvis!” you beg, breath caught in your throat at the burning sting of him as your hand flies up to clutch at his arm, secure around your hips, “its it’s-” you flounder with a word to adequately describe the delicious pain of it as he goes deeper.

He mouths messy and moaning at your neck and you can feel his belly shaking against your lower back, his cock twitching at the feeling of getting dipped in your silky channel. It makes you cringe in discomfort.

“You’re so goddamn perfect and warm as anythin,” he praises in a slur of kisses and moans as he flexes up and up.

The farther in he goes the more it loses any snuggly quality and instead feels rather like getting slowly impaled. You shift your stance in front of the mirror, legs spreading of their own accord and eyes squeezed shut in concentration at just trying to breathe. It goes on forever and you start to try to go up on your tip toes, to get away from it, from him, to lessen the fullness and the deepness of his assault somehow. He persists. You try to scramble up him, leveraging your weight on his forearm till your little feet are nearly off the jet floor.

His answering chuckle vibrates your back, “Looks like you’re tryin to learn how to levitate, honey.”

You scramble harder in a vain attempt to get taller, to elongate your poor vagina somehow, to keep him shallow

“T-that’s all I can take, Elvis” you try to tell him when he’s only over half in.

It's an honest declaration, to your hyperventilating self he feels impossibly big and certainly every bit as deep as it felt last night when he took you discreetly beneath the sheets in the good ole fashioned missionary position.

Your eyes widen as he doesn’t stop, just goes on and on and on, as your breaths get more panicked, shallower with each inhale, on the verge of a panic attack until he stalls and starts to pet your belly and kiss your cheek in an effort to bring you back down. “Breathe babydoll, breathe for me. Calm down, satnin, you took this all last night. you can do it again, I knows ya can.”

You've long ago started to whimper when he didn’t listen, half in pain and half in fear that he isn’t stopping, that he isn’t being as nice as he was last night. Why isn’t he stopping? oh why, why, “I can’t, I think I’m not made for it.” you wail as you writhe helpless in his arms, a pounding ache between your legs and a strange flutter in your chest.

“No, no, don’t say that baby, please don’t say that, you’re perfect baby, just perfect.” he pleads a little frantic, rubbing his lips along your cheekbone to collect your tears, “Only need a lil breakin in is all, this won’t always be so rough. I’ll fix ya honey, I’ll make it better. Don’t you go objectin’ to the heavenly proportions God gave ya, or what he gave me neither. We were made for each other.”

Hearing the tender worry in his voice soothes you, even more than his comforting touches, knowing he isn’t indifferent to your struggle, he just wants what’s best for you as any good teacher would. You take a breath, a large breath and it feels like it made him sink deeper somehow. You bite back a sob.

“You can do it.” he says in your ear, his voice shaky from how badly he needs to be moving inside you, “Please baby, let me in, I’m hurtin’ real bad, if you could just see lil elvis you’d feel so bad for the poor guy. Let him in, you can take it, let him in, let him in his lil house. That’s it, that’s it just a little bit more.”

The man lied. There was nothing “little” about the more he gives you when he bucks up that last bit and buries himself fully inside, balls snug against your butt.

“Oh, i’hurts.” you moan, tears leaking through your clenched eyes, smearing your immaculate cat eye. “hurts -I-I can’t, Elvis.”

“You can.” he declares firmly, trying so hard to stay in control, to gather the last shreds of his gentlemanliness, “More like -you *are* doing it. Look, come on. Baby! I said look! Open those eyes and watch how well you’ve taken me.”

You pry your clumping lashes apart and slowly your eyes drag from the reflection of your faces pressed together, down to your breasts where his hand is crushing a velvet bow in his grip, down your belly to to his forearm barred around your hips. Down to that place where you join.

“Where’d lil Elvis go, hmm?” He teases like you’re playing hide and seek, and you let out a watery laugh, rolling your eyes at his babying tone, “Where'd he go, darlin? Oh, there he is,” he pulls out a tiny bit so the pink veiny length of him peaks out from between your lips, “there he is -wait where’d he go?”

“Elvis. Stop. Stop, that’s so dumb.” you beg through your sniffling giggles, the fiery stretch of him temporarily forgotten.

He laughs at your embarrassment and pulls out further this time, then snaps his hips back up to the hilt of him, drawing a pained cry from you “Who’s my bestest girl, hmm? who’s that? Shhh, shhh, Das you ain’t it? Look at’chue, doin so well. I need ya to stand straight baby, let those heels touch down. I mean it, plant your feet, don’t cry about it, no reason to cry, you gotta relax.”

You’ve heard him use the same tone of voice when helping Red’s puppy get a burr out of its paw. Pitifully you obey him, planting your feet and it feels like you’re riding a telephone pole, the way he’s stiff and unyielding, deep inside you, plumbing the depths of your belly.

“That’s more like it.” he hums in throaty appreciation of the snug fit of you, “Alright now, ‘member the job I gave ya?” he reminds gently as he starts to thrust slow and deep, watching as your face crumples in grief, “Hold yourself open baby, it’s very important you watch this, I need ya to understand you’re perfect for this, gotta let go of ma arm, c’mon now.” he pries your grip from his forearm and brings your hand back down to your puffy heat, “Spread yo’self.” his accent deepens as your body struggles to take him, clenching around him in an effort to expel him, and only serving to make him moan in bliss. “Look a’that.” he marvels, sounding utterly worshipful of the way the glistening pink length of him slowly comes into view, then slowly disappears -absorbed inside you, your painfully stretched little hole fluttering hopelessly at each dragging inch of him.

“It still really hurts.” you observe childishly through gritted teeth, your pained body fighting the fuzzy headed arousal you feel while watching the obscene display of him sliding in and out of you for a few languid grinds.

“That’s cause you’re so tense, loosen up baby, -actually, here.” he shuffles you forward and you make a reckless sound of disgruntlement at the feel of him shifting inside you with each baby step, “Here, knee up here.” he hooks his hand beneath your knee and props it up on the counter, somehow making this worse and better all at once with the new angle.

“Ow, oh god, you said it would get better.” you accuse, biting your lip in savage self reprimand after it. Foolish girl, to risk making him unhappy and frustrated, stoking his wandering eye.

“It will, dammit, it will. I'm gonna need you to hang in there and play with your lil button till it does, alright? Bout to burst back here with all this startin and stoppin.”

“Ok.” you whisper, feeling a little more steady with the firm counter beneath your knee, opened up a little for the intrusion of him.

He pats your hips and presses an appreciative kiss behind your ear, nearly drunk off your sweet little struggle to be good for him. It makes his heart soar and fills him with wild wants, makes him reckless, and a little mean somehow, like crushing rose petals to gain the scent.

“Now, I know I made love to ya last night, darlin,” he pets the bulge of his cock in your belly and you shudder in anticipation, “cause that’s what weddin nights are for, but now you’re a wife proper you gotta learn how to take cock without so much whinin and clingin, alright? Made ya a woman, didn’t I? so do me proud, act it.”

With this emboldening commission he presses one more kiss to your neck before pulling out before driving in, hard. And then he does it again, and again and again at a pace you’ve seen him maintain on stage but never, never imagined him using with you, against you, it feels like.

You shriek and your knee slides further apart with the violent rocking, trying with terrible desperation to find solace and feminine satisfaction in the guttural groans and huffed out praises your husband vents as he takes what he needs, flaming eyes glued to the mirror and the place where he plunders you.

You are really trying, it just hurts so damn much.

You know you’re lucky, you cling to that even as he spears your cervix again and again with gusto that suggests your panicked clenching is the best damn thing he’s ever felt in his life. You’ve heard from other women, older women trying to counsel you, prepare you for what lay ahead, that some husbands didn’t even bother trying to make sure their wives were slick enough. That the dry drag and burn of a man can make the stretch truly unbearable. It keeps you grateful that the lewd sounds now causing you to blush are testament to the flood of slick down there. It keeps you grateful meek even as you wail and smear your makeup with your gasped out shock.

He should slow down, he should moderate his thrusts, cherish his wife. He can see you’re struggling and panting and crying and somehow it’s all just a drug to him, the gorgeous little dolly he crafted so perfectly this morning looking utterly overwhelmed and defiled by his cock. It’s enough to make a man lose his bearings and forget his mama’s teachings on how to treat a lady.

The beast won’t be tamed. And so Elvis Presley begins to babble a stream of apologies as he exerts all the energy of his able body in fucking his young wife, like the deeper and harder he goes the more likely his lil swimmers will have the chance of making themselves a nice comfy home in your sweet womb:

“oh goddamn baby I’d stop if I could, but yer squeezing me like a vice and I just…I just can’t stop baby, be good, be good, don’t cry on me, be good for your husband, baby. You’ll get used to it, we’ll train your pussy baby, just gotta get through these early stages. Early stages and it’s, it’s normal, just a lil skittish is all, ain’t no way god made me want you this bad just for you to be cold. Ain’t no way, I can feel it when you’re dancin to my music, you want it deep, you crave it deep, you were born hungry. Oh goddamn, yes, yes, fuck yes, baby, I’m sorry I’m sorry, yes, keep squeezing me like that …….”

It is not talent on your part, this clenching that has him snarling in rapture with his eyes rolling back in his skull, it’s pure creature instinct, whether trying to expel him, bring him deeper or milk him fast so this agony will end, you don’t know. All you know is that his force is terrifying and you’ve never seen something quite as erotic as the pristinely polished beauty of his face morphing into ravenous determination.

Your panic flares one last time, unwilling to allow yourself to coast into enjoyment of this filthy usage without a fight. “Please, Elvis please -enough!” you gasp, even as something seems to have shifted inside you, a tilt or a nudge, whatever it is, it’s a spark of something dangerous.

“Listen here now,” he pants in frustration, one of his hands leaving your hip to fly down to your clit and rub it viciously, “i don’t have a particular hankerin to pin you down over the tabletop, face down ass up, and make this marriage work but I will if I have to. So be a good girl n’ quit all your whinin, show me some of that grit you show when I’m teachin ya on the mats. Don’t wanna make me do nothin rash, but I ain’t gon’ have my honeymoon ruined cause my wife is insistent on bein’ an obstinate lil’ brat!” his voice his shaking with effort, “now, open ya self up!”

It spooks you, this inexorable side of him, white hot lightening ripping through your nerves. Suddenly you’re alite. Scientists might be quick to give credit to the clever little rhythm his thumb strummed over your clit but till the day you die you will swear it was instinctive obedience that had you spasming and then gushing, suddenly relaxing and drawing him in, pliant and eager. Subdued at last.

“Aww baby, oh baby that’s it, oh thank fuck,” he gasps in relief as he feels the change, “I’ve gotchu, you know I gotchu always, gonna help ya get over that damn hill, gonna drop ya off that cliff gentle like.”

His movements are not gentle, if anything they speed up, but his hands cradle you, his mouth caresses you and he places his own knee beside your own, glued together everywhere except for the snap of his pelvis. There is a razor's edge here, in the sensations his body is drawing from yours, and it is an edge upon which you wobble, tipping now towards pleasure, then pain, then back again to pleasure. It confuses and overwhelms you, makes you moan and keen and beg like an animal in heat, the jet crew and all your ladylike deportment forgotten.

“Oh dear god Elvis, I- oh, oh, please don’t stop!” you’re suddenly shouting in a shocked beg, something irreversible building and this isn’t your standard *nice job buddy that was swell* orgasm approaching, it’s one of the *well done sir, I think I just died there for a minute* variety. It’s shaking, and thrumming and burning up your entire body, suddenly making lyrics to his well worn songs take on an entirely new meaning.

“Lordy mama, tryin to let the whole plane know I’ve broken ya in at last?” he teases, finding it heavenly the way you move with him now in an easy give and take, the smacking of your bum against him and the happy slack of your mouth driving him to madness.

Gone is the suave man of myth and envy, here is an animal instead, mounting and mauling and claiming you with ferocious devotion and you take it like a jerking rag doll, whining in need where you were once whimpering. He’s proud of you. If he had breath to laugh he would at the way you suddenly look dazedly disbelieving in the mirror right before your body seizes up and pleasure annihilates all your senses.

Your legs give out and you slump, having only the vaguest awareness of the fact he’s beginning to grunt and cry out himself, using you like a writhing receptacle, coming unglued behind you as you begin to melt on him like butter. There ain’t much thought or chivalry to the way he grabs at you, a hand beneath each knee and folds you in half, split open in front of the mirror as he ruts every last drop of satisfaction into you. He hears himself hollering as if through a tunnel, something that the fight crew, if asked, would paraphrase as being “oh goddamn, you are more perfect than anything.”

You are numb and pounding down there, the last frantic usage of your pussy an ordeal you endure with cock dumb acceptance. The way his face draws up and crumples shortly after, and then slacks in bliss -it is the single most violently arousing thing you’ve ever witnessed. Feeble as your energy is, you feel a surge of feminine pride at the way he mumbles and moans and finally shakes to a stop.

“That’s it, oh you’re so beautiful.” you moan, watching as his hair falls into his bleary, slow blinking eyes as he comes back to the surface, “And you’re mine.” you sigh, content.

“Mhmm, yours.” he coos, jostling you a little on his cock and he snuggles closer somehow, you think you feel his seed start to dribble out despite the sizable stopper inside you, “Well, bless your heart darling, I’ve got ya folded like a camp chair. Ha!” he gently folds your legs back down, pulling out of you with painstaking gentleness on the way down, “That weren’t very gentlemanly of me, was it?” he teases.

You sway dangerously once placed on your own two feet and you don’t even have the chance to fall, he never lets go before he realizes what’s needed. He picks you up and sets you on the counter, you pool back against the mirror, boneless and debauched, legs stuck bow legged from such a long ride and a vividly puffy pussy leaking his seed onto the counter. He tucks himself back in with still shaking hands. He won’t be fully back down to earth till Honolulu’s runway, he thinks. Just in time to carry you off the plane. And begin it all over again.

Married life, he could get used to this.

“It was perfect, you’re perfect.” you slur earnestly as he returns to you and unzips your dress, hauling it over your teased you hair, baring you fully as you sit on the counter, kicking feet thumping against the cabinets in your patten leather heels

“Nah…perfect -that would be you, Mrs Presley.” he kisses you deeply, before taking you in his arms bridal style and carries you into the bedroom, conscious but uncaring that you’re leaking all over his pristine shirt sleeve.

This next part oughta involve washcloths or wet wipes. But that would require leaving your sweet arms and facing a jet crew that just heard him railing his tender young bride.

Yeah, he’ll just use his mouth.

Hope y’all enjoyed. This is a repost from my (currently censored) main blog @precious-little-scoundrel and in turn it’s a repost from the original written over a year ago on my deleted OG Elvis blog@aconflagrationofmyown I want to start collecting my fics here in case anything happens with my main. Xoxo

[lila-lou]

✨ His only exception - Pt. 22/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, angst, hurt

Word Count: 6428

A/N: This is part 22 of “His only exception”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

Two weeks later, you walked towards Annie’s office, to hand her some reports, but as you were about to knock at her door, you overheard her talking.

Annie’s voice rang out, laced with frustration and urgency, as she bellowed into the phone to Butcher. "Why the hell is Soldier Boy still in America?", she demanded, her tone tinged with incredulity. "He should have been transported to Russia by now. What’s the holdup?".

Your breath caught in your throat as her words echoed in your ears, sending a shiver down your spine.

With bated breath, you pressed your ear to the door, straining to catch every word of the conversation unfolding within.

Inside the office, Butcher’s voice came through the phone, gruff and strained. "The Russians are afraid to take him back", he explained, his words heavy with frustration. "They don’t want to deal with the fallout if he escapes again. They want assurances, guarantees".

Annie let out a frustrated sigh, her voice tinged with exasperation. "Well, we can’t keep him here forever", she snapped, her irritation palpable. "We need to figure this out, and fast".

Your heart raced as you listened in, the pieces of the puzzle slowly coming together in your mind.

As you stumbled back from the door, clutching the reports tightly in your hands, a whirlwind of emotions churned within you.

With each step back to your office, your thoughts raced, grappling with the implications of what you had overheard. The tension in the air seemed to thicken around you, suffocating you with the weight of the secrets and lies that permeated Vought.

Once safely back in your office, you sank into your chair, your mind reeling as you tried to process everything you had just heard.

As you sank into your chair, the weight of the revelations pressing down on you, you couldn't shake the nagging questions swirling in your mind. Why would your friends hold Ben captive? There´s no way you misunderstood the hole situation.

The thought of Ben being returned to the Russians, to face the horrors of his past once more, sent a shiver down your spine. Your heart raced like crazy. You knew the extent of the torture he endured during his time in their captivity, and the idea of him being subjected to it again was unbearable.

No matter what he had done, to you or anyone else, this was just cruel.

With a heavy heart, you began to piece together the fragments of information, trying to make sense of the tangled web of secrets and lies that surrounded Ben's disappearance. But the more you delved into it, the more questions arose, leaving you feeling more lost and confused than ever before.

As someone who had spent countless hours tracking down supes in your previous job at Supe Affairs, you knew the ins and outs of investigative work like the back of your hand. If anyone could uncover Ben's whereabouts, it was you.

You should have done something sooner. Damn it, you hated yourself right now. Why did you trusted your team so easily? But… they were your friends, so you never thought about them lying to you.

For eight grueling hours, you poured over every piece of data on your laptop, leaving no stone unturned in your quest for answers. It was a tedious process, but your determination never wavered, fueled by the hope of finally finding a lead.

And then, just when you were beginning to lose hope, you stumbled upon a promising clue—an upcoming shipment from Nevada to Russia. Then it hit you. Your heart raced. A shipment from supe affairs. Fuck.

This could be it, you thought to yourself, the breakthrough you had been searching for. This had to be it. This had to be Ben.

Thats when Annie and Hughie knocked on your door. You were jolted out of your intense focus, the sound pulling you back to the present moment. Blinking away the remnants of your concentration, you forced a smile as you greeted them.

"Hey, come on in", you said, trying to sound cheerful despite the turmoil raging inside you. "Sorry, I lost track of time. I'll be ready in just a minute".

Annie raised an eyebrow at your distracted and stressed demeanor, her expression tinged with concern. "Everything okay?", she asked, her voice gentle.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal. Finally, you shook your head, plastering on a false smile. "Yeah, just got caught up in some work stuff", you replied, hoping they wouldn't press for more details.

You joined Annie and Hughie for dinner, you did your best to push aside the rage and confusion swirling within you. The possibility that your friends had captured Ben and kept it from you gnawed at your conscience, but for now, you chose to keep silent about what you had overheard. If that shipment was really connected to Ben, or worse, was Ben, the last thing you needed was them, to react in a hurry.

Throughout the meal, you engaged in polite conversation, masking your inner turmoil behind a façade of normalcy. Despite your efforts, however, a part of you remained preoccupied with thoughts of Ben and the unsettling revelations you had stumbled upon.

As the dessert arrived, Annie and Hughie engaged in light banter, discussing their latest mission at Vought. You joined in sporadically, offering a smile or a nod while your mind wandered to darker thoughts.

Annie noticed your distraction and placed a hand on your arm, concern etched in her features. "Is really everything alright?", she asked, her voice gentle.

You forced a smile, nodding. "Yeah, just a bit tired from work and stuff", you replied, your tone carefully neutral.

Hughie glanced between you and Annie, sensing the tension in the air. "If there's anything on your mind, you can always talk to us", he offered, his expression earnest.

You nodded, before you asked cautiously, "Did either of you happen to see anything about Ben lately?", trying to sound casual.

Annie and Hughie exchanged a glance, their expressions guarded.

Annie sighed softly before responding, "No, we haven't heard anything about him. But it's not uncommon for supes to keep a low profile".

You nodded again, but the unease in your stomach only grew. "It just seems crazy", you continued, "that someone as powerful as Ben hasn't been seen by a fan or caught on camera or anything. Especially now that Homelander is no longer a supe, Ben is essentially the most powerful being on the planet. The media should be going crazy about him".

Annie's brow furrowed in thought, but she didn't offer any further insight. "Maybe he just want to have some private time for now", she suggested vaguely.

You knew pressing further would only raise suspicion.

Annie let out a heavy sigh, her gaze distant as she mumbled, "You still miss him, don’t you?".

You bit your lip, feeling a lump form in your throat. "Yeah", you admitted softly, unable to hide the ache in your voice.

Her next question caught you off guard. "So… there wasn´t just friendship between you two, right?", she asked.

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. "At first, maybe", you replied carefully. "But… it got complicated. I don't know".

Annie nodded understandingly, her expression sympathetic. "Well, if you ever need to talk about it, about your feelings, I'm here", she offered sincerely.

You offered her another fake smile.

How could she sit there and lie so badly to your face? How could the whole team, your friends, lie to you like that and keep you in the dark? And how could you have been so stupid and naïve as not to question Ben's disappearance?

With determined resolve, you booked a flight to Nevada as soon as you arrived home that evening. As you started packing a small bag, you continued your research, driven by the need to uncover the truth. There was no way you could ignore the possibility that Ben might be in danger once again.

If there was even the slightest chance that he was enduring another hellish ordeal, you had to do everything in your power to prevent it. You owed him that much, after everything you had been through together.

With each item you packed, you felt a sense of urgency coursing through your veins. Time was of the essence, and you couldn't afford to waste a single moment.

As your flight took off in the middle of the night, you felt a sense of urgency propelling you forward. You had booked the soonest flight available, unwilling to waste another precious minute while Ben's fate hung in the balance.

Touching down in Nevada in the early hours of the morning, you wasted no time. Calling in sick to work, you made your way to the nearest taxi stand, determined to reach the small airport where the mysterious shipment to Russia was set to depart. With each passing moment, your heart raced with anticipation, fueled by the hope that you might find some answers about Ben's whereabouts.

As the taxi pulled up to the airport, you stepped out, your pulse quickening with each step you took. With every passing second, the weight of the unknown pressed down upon you, but you refused to let fear hold you back. Steeling yourself for whatever lay ahead, you marched forward, ready to uncover the truth no matter the cost.

Taking a deep breath, you approached the guards stationed at the entrance to the airport. "Starlight sent me to make sure everything is ready for the shipment", you explained confidently, hoping to gain their trust. Well, you had a few hours to prepare yourself for every possible argument.

The guards exchanged suspicious glances, their eyes narrowing as they scrutinized you. "We weren't informed of any additional personnel", one of them remarked, his tone skeptical. But they knew your face. Your new position at vought was pretty much being Annie´s PA.

Undeterred, you maintained your composure, offering plausible explanations for your presence. With each carefully chosen word, you worked to assuage their doubts and convince them of your legitimacy.

After a tense exchange, the guards finally relented, allowing you to pass through the security checkpoint. As you stepped inside the airport, a sense of relief washed over you, knowing that you had cleared the first hurdle.

You walked through the airport. For a while.

As you finally entered the security room, you were met with the scrutinizing gazes of another two guards. Keeping your composure, you approached them with even more confidence.

"Starlight is waiting at the entrance", you lied smoothly, your tone authoritative. "She needs to discuss some urgent matters with you both".

The guards exchanged hesitant glances, clearly uncertain about the unexpected interruption. However, they seemed hesitant to defy the authority of someone claiming to be sent by Starlight.

Nodding in acknowledgment, they quickly vacated their posts, eager to address the purported issue at the entrance. As they hurried off, you took advantage of the opportunity to slip further into the security room.

"Idiots. This was way too easy", you rolled your eyes.

As you monitored the security cameras and navigated through the building's system, a mix of disbelief and amusement washed over you. The familiarity of the security system, reminiscent of Vought's own setup, struck you as both ironic and unsettling.

With each click and keystroke, you delved deeper into the labyrinthine network of corridors and chambers. It wasn't long before your keen eye caught sight of a series of heavily guarded rooms nestled within the bowels of the basement.

The sight sent a shiver down your spine, the gravity of the situation sinking in. These rooms held the answers you sought.

As you pocketed one of the access cards from the guards, a surge of adrenaline fueled your resolve. With each step towards the elevators, your heart pounded in anticipation and sure some fear.

With a steady hand, you inserted the card into the elevator panel, the soft beep signaling acceptance as the doors slid open before you. Stepping inside, you selected the basement level, your breath catching in your throat as the elevator descended into the depths of the building.

As the doors opened to reveal the dimly lit corridors of the basement, you steeled yourself for what lay ahead. With each step forward, you drew closer to the truth. Hopefully to Ben.

With each door you passed through, the tension in the air grew thicker, your nerves coiling tightly with each step. Using the access card, you navigated through the labyrinthine corridors of the basement, encountering occasional guards whom you managed to deceive with well-rehearsed lies and a calm demeanor.

As you ventured deeper into the bowels of the facility, you couldn't shake the sense of urgency that gnawed at your insides.

With each encounter with a guard, you maintained a facade of confidence, engaging in casual conversation and deflecting any suspicion with practiced ease. The guards, unaware of your true intentions, offered little resistance. Again, fucking idiots.

Finally, after navigating through a series of winding corridors and heavily guarded checkpoints, you stood before the imposing bulk of the last big steel door. Your heart raced as you reached for the access card once more, steeling yourself for whatever lay beyond.

A wave of shock and horror washed over you as the door swung open, revealing the grim scene before you. There, chained up on an examination table, lay Ben, his once-powerful form now reduced to a pitiful sight. Tubes snaked from his body, connected to machines that hummed softly in the dimly lit room.

Your heart clenched at the sight of him, his face obscured by a large mask, his body restrained by heavy chains. He lay still and silent, completely vulnerable and at the mercy of his captors.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you took in the sight before you. The reality of the situation crashed down upon you with force, filling you with a mix of anguish, anger, and despair.

But amidst the chaos of your emotions, one thing remained clear: you had found Ben, and now it was up to you to free him from this nightmare.

As you approached Ben, your heart pounding in your chest, you cast a wary glance around the room, ensuring that you were alone and undetected.

Reaching out with trembling fingers, you gently lifted the mask from Ben's face, revealing his features beneath. His expression was serene, his features softened in sleep.

Your heart ached at the sight of him, your fingers tracing the lines of his face as if to reassure yourself that he was real, that he was still here with you.

As Ben's eyes snapped open, a primal fury ignited within him, driving him to break free from his restraints with a fierce determination. With a low growl emanating from deep within his chest, he lunged towards you, his movements swift and predatory.

In an instant, his hands closed around your throat, crushing the air from your lungs as he pinned you against the wall with a vice-like grip. Your vision blurred instantly, the world fading around you as you struggled to draw breath.

"Mm…Ben", you managed to gasp, your voice barely a whisper as you gazed up at him with pleading eyes, hoping to reach the man buried beneath the rage.

In the final moment before his grip tightened, Ben's gaze locked onto yours, recognition flickering in his eyes as he registered your presence. With a sharp intake of breath, he released his hold, allowing you to crumple to the ground beneath him.

His voice trembled with a mixture of anger and disbelief as he demanded, "Did you fucking know about this?".

You choked back a sob, tears welling in your eyes as you shook your head frantically. "No, no, no", you gasped, your voice barely audible as you struggled to find your breath. He believed you, at least for the moment.

But Ben's rage erupted quickly, his voice reverberated through the room, filled with fury and betrayal. "Those fucking bastards tricked me!", he roared, his chest beginning to glow with a dangerous intensity.

You couldn't blame him for his anger, quite the opposite. You were at least as angry. But when you saw his chest begin to glow, you knew it wouldn't end well if he didn't calm down.

Fear gripped your heart as you pleaded with him, your voice trembling with desperation. "Ben, please, calm down", you begged. "You'll kill me if you explode".

Despite Ben's seething anger, your trembling hand reaching out to touch his. "Ben, please", you pleaded, your voice cracking with fear and urgency. "I know you're angry, I know it´s a lot, but… but we need to find a way out of here… now".

His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving with the intensity of his emotions. For a moment, his gaze softened as he looked into your eyes, but the fire of his rage still burned bright within him.

He knew you were right.

With a wild intensity in his eyes, Ben growled at you to stay behind him. Without hesitation, he strode through the door, his movements filled with purpose and determination. As you followed closely behind, your heart raced with adrenaline.

Just beyond the threshold, a horde of guards awaited, their weapons at the ready. But Ben's grin widened, a fierce gleam in his eyes as he cracked his neck with a primal snarl. With a swift, savage motion, he launched into action, tearing through the guards with unmatched ferocity.

The air was filled with the sickening sound of flesh being rent apart and the metallic tang of blood. Ben moved with lethal precision, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake as he fought his way through the opposition, his fury unchecked and unstoppable.

As Ben tore through the guards with unparalleled brutality, you followed closely behind, your stomach churning with each gruesome scene unfolding before you. The once pristine corridors of the facility were now painted in shades of crimson, the air thick with the stench of blood and death.

With each strike, Ben's movements were fluid and precise, his strength and speed unmatched as he dispatched his enemies with ruthless efficiency. You did your best to keep up, your heart pounding in your chest.

Despite the horror of the situation, you forced yourself to steel your nerves, pushing aside the overwhelming urge to vomit as you focused on staying close to Ben's side. With each step, you prayed for the nightmare to end, yearning for the safety and solace of escape.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you emerged from the building.

As the chaos subsided and you both emerged from the building, the weight of the ordeal hung heavy in the air. Ben's gaze swept over the scene, his expression unreadable as he took in the aftermath of the carnage.

Without a word, he made his way to the nearest car, dispatching the last few guards with a swift efficiency that bordered on mechanical. You followed closely behind, your mind still reeling from the violence you had just witnessed.

When you reached a car, Ben paused, opening the passenger door casual. Despite the grim circumstances, there was a sense of familiarity in his actions.

You climbed into the car, the leather seats cool against your skin as you settled in. Ben joined you moments later, sliding behind the wheel with a sense of purpose.

The engine roared to life and Ben quickly navigated the vehicle away from the scene of destruction. As you drove off, the weight of what had just transpired hung heavy in the air, the silence between you filled with unspoken questions and lingering tension.

You couldn't help but stare at him, your mind still reeling from the violent ordeal you had just witnessed. With a mix of disbelief and exhaustion, you blurted out. "Even in this situation, you open me the damn car door?", you asked incredulously, your tone a mix of bewilderment and irritation.

Ben glanced at you, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Hey, just because we're fucking knee-deep in chaos doesn't mean I have to abandon my fucking manners", he replied with a hint of amusement, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a small chuckle despite the gravity of the situation. Despite everything.

But his mood changed within seconds.

He turned to you, his chest beginning to glow once more. "Why the fucking hell did your fucking friends capture me?", he demanded, his voice tinged with frustration and anger.

You reached out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm as you tried to steady his rising temper. "I don't know, Ben", you replied calmly, meeting his gaze with sincerity. "I overheard Annie talking to Butcher about it, but I don't have all the details. They never told me anything".

Ben's expression softened slightly, his features contorting with a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "They never fucking told you?", he echoed, his voice tinged with incredulity. "After everything?".

You shook your head, a heavy weight settling in your chest as you confronted the painful reality of the situation. "No, they didn't", you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so sorry, Ben. I wish I had done something sooner".

For a moment, silence hung in the air between you, the weight of unspoken words echoing in the car's confined space.

As Ben's chest gradually ceased its ominous glow, a sense of relief washed over you both, the tension in the air dissipating slightly.

"I can't fucking believe this shit", Ben muttered, his voice heavy with disbelief as he processed the revelations. "Four months… I've been gone for four fucking months?".

You nodded solemnly, the weight of the truth hanging heavily in the air. "Yeah", you confirmed softly, meeting his gaze with empathy. "It's been over four months since… since everything happened".

Ben fell silent, his expression a mixture of shock and resignation as he grappled with the reality of the situation. The passage of time seemed to stretch before him, a testament to the countless moments lost in the void of captivity.

"How did you find me?", Ben's voice cut through the silence, his eyes narrowing as he studied you intently.

You swallowed hard, the weight of his gaze bearing down on you. "I… I overheard Annie talking", you repeated yourself, your voice barely above a whisper. "She mentioned something about a shipment from Nevada to Russia, and I knew… I just knew it had to be you and I had to find you".

Ben's expression softened slightly, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. "You risked everything to come after me", he murmured. "Why?".

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you shook your head. "Because you're not just 'anyone' to me, Ben", you replied, your voice tinged with emotion. "You're…damn it, even after what happened… you´re… you're everything".

As Ben's hand found its way to your thigh, a surge of electricity coursed through your body, igniting a fire within you. Despite the turmoil in his mind, his touch spoke volumes, conveying emotions that words could never fully express.

You met his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as you felt the intensity of the moment enveloping you. In that fleeting instant, the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you suspended in time.

With a silent understanding passing between you, you leaned into his touch, seeking solace in the warmth of his hand against your skin. In that simple gesture, you found a sense of belonging, a connection that transcended the chaos and uncertainty of the world around you.

You missed him.

More than anything.

The landscape blurred past as Ben continued to drive, the silence between you stretching on. Unable to bear the weight of the quiet any longer, you finally spoke, your voice barely a whisper as you confessed, "I missed you".

Ben's grip on your thigh tightened slightly in response. Despite the absence of words, his touch conveyed a depth of emotion that resonated deeply within you, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty of your reunion.

After driving for what felt like an eternity, Ben finally pulled the car to a stop in front of a nondescript motel. The neon sign flickered weakly overhead, casting a dim glow over the deserted parking lot.

About 15 minutes later, Ben settled onto the bed with a heavy sigh, you moved to sit beside him, the weight of the recent events hanging heavily in the air between you. His gaze was distant, his expression inscrutable as he stared off into the distance.

You carefully asked, "Do you want to take a shower? I can find something for you to wear that doesn’t scream 'soldier boy went crazy'".

Ben grunted in response, his gaze still distant as he nodded slightly.

With Ben in the shower, you seized the opportunity to dash to the nearest mall. Racing through the aisles, you grabbed a small selection of clothes that you hoped would suit him. After paying in a hurry, you grabbed some food and rushed back to the motel. You didn't really want to leave ben alone, not in his state of mind.

As you arrived, you noticed your phone buzzing incessantly with missed calls and messages from Butcher and the rest of the team. Ignoring them, you powered off your phone, determined to focus solely on Ben's well-being for the time being.

You froze in the doorway, catching sight of Ben lounging on the bed naked, flipping through channels on the small TV. Your cheeks flushed crimson as embarrassment flooded through you, and your hand instinctively flew to cover your eyes.

"Uh, sorry", you stammered, averting your gaze. "I, uh, brought you some clothes and food",

Ben glanced over at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "About time", he remarked dryly, reaching for the clothes in your hand.

He watched you how you covered your eyes, a bemused expression crossing his features. With a raised eyebrow, he reached out and gently pulled your hand away from your face.

"You've seen it all before, haven't you?", he remarked. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?".

Your heart raced at his touch, a shiver running down your spine as his deep, husky voice washed over you. Instantly, you felt a familiar warmth spreading through your body, your arousal igniting at the mere sound of him.

Ben's smirk deepened as he sensed your reaction to his touch and words. "Guess the worst part of me getting captured was that I couldn't take care of you properly". He emphasized the word ´properly´ his gaze smoldering with desire.

As you looked up at him, your heart pounding with desire, you felt an overwhelming urge to close the distance between you. With a boldness born of longing and pent-up passion, you reached up to cup his face in your hands, pulling him down to you with a sense of urgency. It was too long. You missed Ben more than words could ever express. You loved him. Him. Ben.

Your lips met his in a fiery kiss, hungry and desperate, as if trying to convey all the emotions and desires that had built up during your time apart. In that moment, nothing else mattered except the electrifying connection between you and Ben, the raw intensity of your mutual longing washing over you both.

As Ben pulled you up onto his hips, the world seemed to spin around you, your senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating sensation of his body pressed against yours. Pressed against the wall next to the door, you yielded to the passionate onslaught of his kiss, feeling a rush of heat coursing through your veins.

With one hand beneath your ass, supporting your weight effortlessly, and the other cupping your face, Ben deepened the kiss with a fervor that left you breathless. Your fingers dug into his biceps, seeking purchase as you surrendered to the overwhelming intensity of the moment.

A deep, primal moan escaped your lips, reverberating in the small space between you, as the world outside faded into insignificance, leaving only the fiery passion that ignited between you and Ben.

Amidst the fervor of your embrace, Ben's lips danced along your collarbone, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your body. As his touch ignited a wildfire of desire within you, you couldn't help but let out a soft whimper of pleasure. You were his own personal drug.

Ben's deep voice rumbled against your skin, a hint of amusement laced with desire. "Told you to be fucking careful with those noises", he murmured, his lips trailing a path of heat down your neck.

With a shuddering breath, you tightened your grip on his shoulders, your nails grazing his skin as you surrendered to the intoxicating rhythm of his touch. Every sensation, every caress, sent waves of pleasure crashing over you.

With a swift motion, Ben tore away your shorts and panties in one fluid movement, leaving red lines marking where the fabric had been. You inhaled sharply at the suddenness of his action, but the surge of desire coursing through you overwhelmed any pain as you pressed your lips harder against his.

Driven by an insatiable need to feel him, to taste him, you deepened the kiss, your body arching against his in a desperate plea for more. The raw intensity of the moment consumed you both.

Lost in the whirlwind of desire, all you could think about was him—the weeks of longing, the ache of his absence—all of it culminating in this moment. His presence enveloped you, his scent, his warmth, his touch.

Desperation laced your voice as you begged for more, your words a fervent plea for the release of pent-up desire. "Please", you whimpered, your voice thick with need. "I need you".

Ben's amused grin widened as he teased. "Maybe I should disappear more often if this is the kind of welcome I get", he chuckled, his hand trailing down to his throbbing length.

At this point it became damn clear to you, that this was Ben´s way of handling his swirling emotions of what the team had done to him. Or wanted to do to him.

With a confident grip, he positioned himself at your entrance. As his tip brushed against your slick folds, you gasped.

With bated breath, you braced yourself against the wall, your muscles tensing in anticipation of his next move.

Slowly, tantalizingly, Ben began to push forward, his thick length inching its way into your welcoming warmth.

With one measured thrust, you felt yourself stretching to accommodate him, the delicious ache mingling with the throbbing heat pooling between your legs.

As he sank deeper, your senses were consumed by the heady sensation of him filling you completely. The friction between you driving you to grind against him in search of greater pleasure.

As Ben's hips pressed flush against yours, his breath hot against your skin, he peppered kisses along your neck, his lips trailing a path of fire along your sensitive flesh. Each brush of his lips sent shivers of pleasure racing through your body, intensifying the already overwhelming sensations coursing through you.

With a husky voice, thick with desire, Ben whispered against your ear. "You feel so fucking good", he murmured, his breath hitching as he fought to control his own rising arousal.

With that, he started to move, slowly at first. He would never admit it, but he missed you just as much, even though he wasn´t really awake for the last few months.

As Ben's thrusts grew more forceful, each movement sending waves of pleasure crashing over you, he struggled to stifle his own moans of pleasure. With each breathless gasp, he fought to maintain control, his lips seeking yours in a desperate attempt to silence his own cries of ecstasy.

Lost in the intoxicating haze of pleasure, you clung to each other, consumed by the raw, primal desire that bound you together. In that moment, there was nothing else in the world but the searing heat of your passion.

"Fuck, I missed you so much", you whispered, your voice thick with emotion as you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

Ben's movements became more urgent, driving you against the wall with force. The sound of his skin slapping against yours echoed in the small motel room, a symphony of desire and longing that reverberated through the air.

With a firm grip on your ass, Ben lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed where he hovered above you, his gaze dark with desire. His cock brushed against your slick folds, teasing you with its hardness as he groaned at the sight of your swollen, eager pussy.

“Fuck, Sweetheart. I nearly forgot how fucking beautiful you are", he murmured, his voice thick with lust as he continued to tease you with his throbbing length.

As you shuddered beneath him, your desire reaching a fever pitch, you pressed your hips against his throbbing length, craving the feeling of him deep inside you.

With a low, guttural groan, Ben captured your lips in a searing kiss.

As you press your hips against Ben's throbbing length, he groans in response, his desire evident in the way his eyes darken with lust. You reach up, pulling him closer as he positions himself between your legs.

Ben thrusts forward, sinking deep inside you in one swift motion. You gasp at the sensation, feeling him fill you completely as he moves with softer strokes. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, intensifying with every movement.

You writhe beneath him, lost in the pleasure of the moment.

As the tension builds and you feel yourself nearing the peak of pleasure, Ben's commanding voice cuts through the haze of desire. "Come for me sweetheart", he orders, his voice low and urgent, his gaze intense as he watches you intently.

His words ignite a fire within you, pushing you over the edge as you surrender to the pleasure coursing through your body. With a cry of ecstasy, you shatter into climax, waves of pleasure washing over you as you ride out the intense sensation.

With each thrust, Ben's urgency grows, his desire evident in the way he moves against you.

"Fuck, I'm close", he grunts, his words strained with desire as he drives himself towards the edge. "Gonna come inside you, baby".

You meet his gaze, nodding in response. With one last thrust, Ben finds his release, his body tensing as he spills himself deep and hot inside you with a primal groan.

As Ben's climax washes over him, he collapses against you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. His breath comes ragged and heavy against your skin, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you bask in the warmth of the moment. His dick throbs inside you, the sensation sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your body.

For a few blissful moments, you both remain tangled together, lost in the intimacy of the aftermath.

As Ben slowly rolls himself beside you, he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his gaze softening as he looks at you.

"You okay?", he asks, his voice gentle as he caresses your cheek.

You nod, a soft smile spreading across your lips. "More than okay", you murmur, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his.

Ben returns your smile, leaning in to press a tender kiss against your lips, before you placed your head on his chest, trying to catch your breath.

Ben's chest grew warmer beneath your cheek, and a sense of panic flickered through you. "Ben, your chest", you exclaimed, pulling away slightly, concern etched in your voice.

Ben's gaze shifted to where your hand rested on his chest, his expression tight with controlled emotion. He inhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling with each breath as he fought to calm himself down. His grip around your body tightened, seeking solace in your presence amidst the turmoil within him.

"It's okay", Ben muttered, his voice strained with effort. "I've got it under control".

You nodded, though the concern lingered in your eyes as you searched his face for any sign of distress. Despite his reassurance, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of your stomach.

As you leaned up and pressed your lips against Ben's jaw, trailing kisses along his stubbled skin, you hoped to distract both him and yourself from the rising tension in the room. His struggle to maintain control was evident, his muscles tense beneath your touch.

You lingered at his mouth, kissing him softly, pouring all your love and affection into the gentle caress.

As you continued to kiss him, you gently cupped his face, urging him to meet your gaze. His eyes met yours, filled with a mixture of desire and turmoil.

"Do you remember what you said to me the night before the fight?", you asked softly, your voice tinged with emotion. "The words that made me feel so angry and hurt?".

As your thumb brushed over his cheek, you felt the heat radiating from his chest, but you fought to keep your composure. With a shaky breath, you pressed on.

"I was angry because it's true", you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. "I… love you, Ben".

Feeling the weight of your words, Ben's expression softened, his eyes filled with a mix of disbelief and vulnerability. It was a revelation for him, a moment that he never expected to experience.

For the first time in his life, someone had told him they loved him, and meant it with their whole heart.

———————————

A/N: First, sorry for the long silence. But, I'm back. Well, a lot happend in this chapter. And a lot will happen in the next chapters. I can promise one thing, no matter what you think will happen, it will definitely be different... And that counts for several upcoming chapters... The two of them definitely won't find peace that quickly. Otherwise we would already be at the end of the story <3 Please let me know what you think.🥰

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Part 23

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Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy@jackles010378@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles@sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl@emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444@seasonofthenerd@staple-your-mouth@artemys-ackles@selfdestructionandrhum@mystic-mara

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Making Arrangements Part One

Masterlist | Part Two

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting will be blocked.

Length: 6.1K

Notes: It's a two-shot! Part two will have explicit content.

No beta, we die like Billy Kimber

Warnings: Arranged marriage; mentions of prostitution; canon-typical attitudes toward sex; slow burn; enemies to allies to lovers; Reader has a brother and an aunt; no physical descriptions of non-canon characters; Reader gets drunk

Summary: If you’d been involved with anyone, if there’d ever been a hint or a whisper of a beau recently, you might’ve been able to plead differently for your future. 

But you knew as well as your family that this was your best move, and with no great love waiting in the wings, there was nothing to be done but to marry the man. You secured your interests, the interests of your family. You gained a powerful ally—but you also gained powerful enemies. 

“D’you think you could bother to give them a smile?” 

On the face of it, it seemed a fair question, but all things considered, it made you want to punch Thomas Michael Shelby squarely in the jaw. You didn’t, of course—that conduct would be unbecoming of a bride in front of her new family. 

You’d been getting knowing looks from the women all night—pursed lips from Ada and Polly, and a wide smile from Esme. It was almost wolf-like, the way she watched you—welcome to the pack. 

“I could,” You conceded, nodding, casting your gaze around the party. The revels had only just begun. It was early enough that nearly everyone was coherent, on their feet, but you knew that in just a couple of hours, the party would likely turn to shit. These people would be drunk, coked out of their minds, dancing, and flirting…Probably fucking. You had no doubt that you would be expected to do your wifely chore that evening. 

Maybe that was why a permanent frown had been fixed on your lips from the time you’d put on your wedding dress, as you’d walked down the aisle, all the way through the fucking I Dos. 

“You’re still frowning.” 

You didn’t bother to hide your eye roll before you turned your head fully to look at him. He didn’t give you the same courtesy. He watched the revelers with the same bored speculation as you’d given them just moments ago. 

“And this is what your fucking grin looks like?” You snipped. He raised his cigarette to his lips, drawing in a deep drag that sank his cheeks. He managed to cast you a knowing glance, his brow raising. 

“It’s the most that you’ll get of me tonight.” 

“And of me. Don’t ask me to stoop to something that you won’t bother with. I’m your wife now. At least pretend to respect me in front of them,” You insisted, nodding toward the others. It took him a moment, but Tommy nodded. 

“And behind closed doors?” He asked. 

“That’ll be none of their concern. And you’ll have to take it up with me later.” 

“I intend to.” 

--  

You sat on the edge of the bed, and watched. All Tommy did was light up another damn cigarette. You weren’t sure if you married a man or a chimney. 

You could hardly believe that you had married the man at all. 

Your family had never been a big player in Birmingham, or Camden. You’d kept your head down, stayed out of the way, operated cleanly. When the Shelbys had come to you with a proposition, it hadn’t been for your minor operations in the UK—it had been for your connections in America. They were looking to expand, offered you a good deal, and a union between the two households. 

When it had first been brought to your attention, you’d thought that it was a pretty good idea. But when it came down the line that Thomas Shelby had specified an interest in marrying you, well—the thought had become less and less appealing. If you’d cared less for your family, or known less about the mounting tensions that they were facing overseas, you would’ve laughed the idea off. If you’d been involved with anyone, if there’d ever been a hint or a whisper of a beau recently, you might’ve been able to plead differently for your future. 

But you knew as well as your family that this was your best move, and with no great love waiting in the wings, there was nothing to be done but to marry the man. 

You secured your interests, the interests of your family. You gained a powerful ally—but you also gained powerful enemies. 

Tommy had spoken to you only once before your wedding day. The meeting had been brief, and he’d done all of the talking. He’d promised to protect you, sworn to never raise a hand against you. 

“You know as well as I do,” He’d insisted, “That this is the best way forward for our families. And I know,” He’d leaned in a touch, “That you want what’s best for your people.” He’d reached into his pocket and drawn out a small velvet box, setting it on the table before he stood, straightening his waistcoat. 

“You have until tomorrow night. I need an answer.” 

You’d sent him your reply—a single slip of paper sent with your brother Lewis that simply read: Yes 

“...It was a nice party,” You offered now, unable to stand the silence any longer. 

“You didn’t seem to particularly enjoy it.” 

“No one left with a bullet wound. In my family, we consider that a successful bash.” 

Tommy’s lips quirked just a touch as he nodded. 

“Our brothers seemed to get on,” You hedged, desperate to draw this out. You worried that once you stopped speaking, he may…Want to consummate the marriage. You weren’t sure how you felt about that. You’d heard rumors, whispers that Tommy was a good lover, but you weren’t sure that you were ready to find that out yourself. 

“They did,” Tommy nodded again. “Lewis and John already seem thick as thieves.” 

“Yes.” 

The two of you fell into quiet again, and it was a harrowing few moments before Tommy pushed himself off of the dresser. Your hands dropped instinctively to the bed, grasping at the sheets—but Tommy turned and went for the door. 

“G’night, then.” 

Your brow furrowed as you glanced around. Goodnight? But—

“Where will you sleep?” 

Tommy stopped in the open doorway, nodding behind himself. “I’ve a room down the hall.” He turned away, adding, “Shout if you need something.” 

You hesitated a few moments longer before you sprung up, darting forward and shoving the door closed before locking it. You drew in a deep breath, closing your eyes and letting your forehead rest against the dark, cool wood grain. 

He didn’t take. 

You had gone into the room expecting shoving hands and a quick coupling, but Tommy kept his distance. You weren’t sure if you were more relieved or insulted. You turned away from the door, leaning back against it and peering around your dim new living quarters. 

Relieved, you decided. 

--  

Insulted, you decided. 

Tommy had the gall to lean in and peck your cheek when he’d come down to breakfast that morning. 

It took everything in you not to shove him away.

Polly made no comment on how wane you looked the next morning, nor did Ada or Esme cast you knowing grins or teases. They all watched Tommy, and the little slip of a shadow that you’d met last night—a birch-pale, dark-haired woman named Lizzie. 

You didn’t think that the news had made it back to your family—the fact that your husband had just spent his first night as a newly-married man with a prostitute-turned-secretary while you slept alone in an unfamiliar room wearing the lacy nightie that you’d bought specifically for your honeymoon. 

Esme and Ada excused themselves as quickly as they could, but Polly lingered, and offered,

“He’s a prickly sort, and these things take time. Men have their needs and urges.”

“...Right,” You pronounced crisply as you stirred some sugar into your tea, “And I’m a novice in a nunnery.” 

--  

“You should’a seen the girls at the party last night,” Lewis groaned.

For all of your irritation during the last few days, you’d been happy, truly happy to see your family enjoying themselves. Carving out your space in the literary scene of London and running a few underground print shops wasn’t exactly a serene existence. You constantly had to move operations, vet workers, stop-up leaks in production cycles and deal with snitches. Your entire family was dedicated to the business, but your brother was the most determined of the lot. Lewis had become the man of the house at a young age, after your father had been hauled into prison for treason. 

So to see him let loose a little—well, more than a little, truth be told—was a heartening sight. 

“I don’t think I would’ve quite enjoyed them the way you did,” You raised a brow, smile widening as he ducked his head bashfully, “But I’m glad you had a good time.” 

“And you?”

The pointed question came from just behind you. You didn’t dare turn to look at your Aunt Pearl. She knew you far too well. You could hide your feelings and concerns well enough from Lew—you had plenty of practice. But Pearl had been a motherly figure, a guiding hand in what would’ve been an otherwise rudderless life. She learned to read you like an open book when you were young, and you had been powerless to change the way that she understood you, even as the seasons of your life had passed. 

You turned your head back toward her just a touch, biting the inside of your cheek as you waited for her to go on. It was a few moments of quiet before she urged: “Lewis, go get some air.” 

You drew a deep breath in through your nose, fighting to steady yourself, and giving Lewis an encouraging smile and nod before he stood, pushing away from the kitchen table and heading outside. You saw him tipping his head back toward you, trying to catch on the line of questions that Pearl was about to level—as if neither of you knew any better to wait until he was fully out of earshot. 

“Who’s Lizzie?” She finally asked. You weren’t sure how to answer at first. You scrubbed your hand over the back of your neck, making sure that you heard the door shutting behind Lewis. 

“It’s just…Growing pains,” You finally offered, gaze set stalwartly on the table. “Every couple has them.” 

“Where was he last night?” 

“How should I know?” “He’s your husband. You’re supposed to know.” 

You didn’t have a chance to argue before she strode closer, her hand resting on your shoulder. You didn’t flinch, or draw away. You were used to her hand on your shoulder, her nails digging into your skin. She didn’t dig her nails in just now—she merely rested and waited. 

“Growing pains,” You finally offered again as you looked straight ahead. It was as if Polly had her hand on your other shoulder, and was staring you down in warning. 

“Pains?” Pearl repeated. “Physical?” 

You don’t want to answer, but—

“Emotional,” You blurted. It was another moment of quiet before she hummed. You stopped yourself from turning to look at Pearl—to catch the no doubt heavy judgment in her dark eyes, and the twist of displeasure to her small mouth. 

“I see.” 

“It’s early,” You insisted. She hummed again, stepping around you to walk toward the window. It didn’t take much to glance over, to see where Lewis was playfully fighting with John and Finn. 

“Do they know?” Pearl asked. 

“About where he was?” You shook your head. “I’m sure his brothers do.” 

“And?” 

“And what?” You scoffed. “It’s no business of theirs. Our marriage is between myself and Thomas.” 

Pearl turned to face you with a crisp smoothness, her eyes narrowed as she cocked a hip.

“And that’s all you have to say about it?” She asked. You pursed your lips. You had plenty to say about it, but it would land on deaf ears. Any of Pearl’s meddling would spell trouble, and you weren’t about to sic the dogs less than twenty-four hours into wedded bliss. 

“Yes,” You nodded firmly. Pearl’s eyes narrowed further before she hummed, turning back toward the window. 

“...This is good for us, Pearl,” You reminded her. “The Shelby’s are strong, they know what they’re doing. I just have to hold up my end.” 

“And what end is that?” 

“That of a doting wife.” 

“And mother?” 

Doubtful. Thomas couldn’t even be bothered to touch you as it was. But it was early, you reminded yourself. Things could still change. Things would change. They had to. 

“Perhaps,” You leveled evenly. “Someday. Time will tell.” 

“Time,” Peal repeated, nodding as she rounded you. “Well, if we’re going on time, so far, you’re not managing it particularly well.” 

You slid down in your seat a little as Pearl finally left the dining room. Your interest in the day’s paper had been sapped; your tea had gone cold. You didn’t want anything to do with Thomas Shelby, or with his family, not anymore. If you were going to make it through at least one year of marriage, you needed to nip this in the bud. 

-- 

“I need to talk to you.” 

Tommy didn’t so much as glance at you, his gaze trained steadily on a horse. You waited a moment, shifting from foot to foot, but perhaps you shouldn’t have waited. You’d spent nearly two weeks waiting. Maybe he hadn't heard you? You stepped a little closer and raised a hand to touch him. You couldn’t bring yourself to make contact, and your hand curled in on itself just before it could brush his waistcoat. 

“Thomas?” You pressed. 

“I’m busy.” 

“When can we speak, then?” 

“Tonight.” 

Certain that he meant it earnestly, you turned away and left.

But the evening came and went, and you found yourself sitting alone, stewing in front of your uneaten dinner and eyeing his empty plate. The house was too quiet, and your thoughts were far too loud. You needed to clear your buzzing head—you wanted a drink, and some fun. 

-- 

“You can’t let them push you around.”

The warning was spoken knowingly. You knew that she was right, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet Esme’s eye. Her gaze was so heavy, so all-knowing—nothing like the bright, uninterested gaze that Thomas often offered you. But Esme was having none of it. She dipped her head into your field of vision and clapped her hand over yours where it rested on the table beside your drink. You shook her hand away lightly, reaching for your drink instead. Maybe coming to the office to nip out of the bottle Polly kept in her desk had been a bad idea. But you couldn’t bring yourself to just sit in that house and rot in your anger. 

“No one is pushing me anywhere,” You grumbled.

Esme let out a soft, cruel chuckle. 

“I know what it is,” She insisted, “To come into this family and feel on the outside, feel that you don’t have a voice. Becomin’ a Shelby doesn’t erase who you were before.” She reached out again, taking up your drink and drawing in a deep pull before you could argue. As annoyed as you were, you knew that she was right. You nodded slowly, topping the glass up when she set it back down. 

“...Should I not bother replacing Polly’s alcohol, then?” 

Esme’s smile grew as yours did, and the two descended into quiet giggles. 

-- 

“We need to talk.” 

It was steely when it left you this time. Despite that, Thomas still paid you no mind. In fact, he went out of his way to take his time drawing on his cigarette before fishing into his waistcoat. He pointedly drew out his pocket watch, flipping it open and eyeing the time. The tick tick tick of the second hand passed for several long moments before he flipped it shut again, lifting his gaze to the hustle and bustle of the office around him. 

“Later,” He offered. 

Later, always later. Weeks of later, of hearing Lizzie’s footsteps and the creaking across the floor as she left the house before you were up and about for the morning. Weeks of sitting alone in that empty house, putting on a brave face for Pearl and Lewis. Weeks of anger and shame eating through your gut. 

“Now,” You spat.

He turned his head toward you, brows ticking up. You could feel the pace of the others in the shop around you slow just a bit, and speeding up again as Thomas shot them a glance.

“Alright,” He murmured, resting his hand on your lower back. You let him steer you toward his office, resolute in your irritation. He opened the door for you, waving you inside and shutting the door behind the two of you. 

“What is so urgent that you pulled me away from my work?” 

“Your work of watching other people count your money?” You quipped in irritation. 

“...What is it that you want to discuss.” 

“You need to keep your whoring private.” 

Thomas’s brows jumped with intrigue, his chin tipping down toward you.

“Explain.” 

“I understand that we went into this with our eyes open and a mutual understanding that the actions that we were taking were for the good of our families, but to the rest of the world, we are husband and wife. I will not ask you to stop your carrying on, as I can't imagine that you’d abide by it if I did, but keep it private. I will not step out on you publicly, and I expect to be given that same respect.” 

Thomas blinked before he straightened, pushing away from the door and stubbing out his cigarette in an ashtray on the desk. He muttered something that you couldn’t hear, and you frowned. 

“Pardon me?” 

“Publicly,” He repeated firmly. “You said that you wouldn’t step out on me publicly.” 

“I did,” You nodded. 

“Do I get to know the lucky man’s name?”

Your face went hot with indignation. Was he trying to embarrass you? Whether he was or not, it was working. You folded your arms across your chest. 

“You’re missing my point.” 

“I take your point. You want me to treat you as my partner, and as my wife, you have that right.” 

“And will you?” 

“You can trust me to be discreet.” 

“I don’t trust you to do anything.” 

Thomas’ expression closed off, his eyes narrowing a touch, and your stomach twisted with nerves. 

“And might I ask why.” 

“What have you done to earn it? In our, what, two weeks of marriage, I have hardly seen you. You’ve made no point to acquaint me with your family or your business, and you’ve spent your nights down the hall with another woman. I’m not your wife, I’m a boarder.” 

Thomas considered for a moment before he gave a short nod. 

“I understand. I will make changes.” “Thomas—” 

“I will.” 

You pursed your lips together, pushing a sigh out through your nose before you gave a small nod of concession. 

“Alright.” 

“Anything else?” 

“...No.” And, just to seal the deal, “Thank you for your time. And for listening.” 

Thomas nodded, straightening up and opening the door for you. You strode toward it, and were nearly through before he rested a hand on your shoulder. You went still, turning your head toward him just a touch. Before you could get a good look at him, Thomas leaned in, brushing a kiss to your cheek. It was the most that he’d touched you since he’d kissed you the morning after your wedding. You thought that he may be making a show of affection for the office, but Thomas turned his head, brushing his lips against your ear.

“If I ever find out that another man has touched you,” He murmured, “I’ll take off the bastard’s hands and give them to you as an anniversary present.” 

You balked, shock wracking your chest as he placed a final kiss to your temple before he gave your ass a pat, spurring you into action and sending your scurrying back into the office, and out of his reach. 

--  

“It’ll be nice for you to fix up the place and make it your own,” Polly commented. 

“She was always going to get around to it of course,” Pearl insisted. You didn’t dare look away from the row of dressers. The one that you had in your bedroom was fine, but it was a bit small. You’d ordered several new pieces of clothing on Tommy’s account—well, on your joint account. Giving the name Mrs. Shelby had incited stunned, wide eyes from the shop keeper’s assistant and prompted fawning and a healthy discount. 

Still, as much as you were trying to bring your families together, you realized belatedly that in this case, it was an awful idea. Polly and Pearl had taken every opportunity to take digs at one another, leveling backhanded compliments with smug smiles and drags of their respective cigarettes. The two of them were so painfully similar, and perhaps that was why they seemed to hate one another so much. 

“Of course,” Polly echoed placidly.

“I want this one,” You pointed to the one in front of you.

“I’ll find the assistant,” Polly offered, brushing past you. You sighed heavily, shaking your head. 

“Please pull it together,” You muttered.

“I’ve nothing to pull together,” Pearl pronounced.

“Please,” You bit out again. “I can’t make any of this work if you and the others don’t, either.” 

You heard a deep sigh, chased by the tapping of her cigarette ash beside you. 

“I will be myself.” 

“I don’t need you to be yourself, Pearl. I need you to be pleasant.” 

A little knot of tension unwound as Pearl chuckled. 

“Becoming a missus really has given you fangs.” 

“I’d rather not use them, if possible.” 

“I understand.” 

“Thank you.” 

“...Are you going to give Miss Sourpuss the same talking-to when she gets back?” 

“Lord above.” 

--  

“You look like you’ve had a marvelous time.” 

Bringing Pearl and Polly to a somewhat peaceful place had been shock enough for that evening, but this took the absolute biscuit.

You might’ve yelped in fear at the sound of his voice if you hadn’t spotted the burning cigarette in the ashtray mere seconds before he spoke. As it was, you didn’t answer right away. You plastered yourself against the backdoor, your hands curled around your key and your purse. Thomas just arched a brow, expectant and silent. He wasn’t supposed to be there. You’d been told that he had business, and you had figured that once that had concluded, he would take care of other…Matters. You'd thought you’d have the house to yourself and have a nice cuppa before going to bed. 

You finally managed to push yourself forward, away from the door, your face hot with drink and embarrassment. 

“I didn’t think you’d be in,” You admitted. 

“You didn’t think I would be spending the evening in my own house?” 

“Esme told me there was a family meeting. She said that they can run late.” 

“You were misinformed.” 

“Clearly.” 

You watched Thomas warily as he drifted closer, going tense as he stepped around behind you. You hardly dared breathe for a moment, then let it out as you felt him slide your coat from your shoulders. 

“Thank you,” You mumbled as he stepped away with it.

“Were you with Esme?” He asked, tossing your coat over the back of a chair. 

“Mhm,” You nodded, taking a few steps deeper into the kitchen. “And Ada, Polly…And Pearl.” 

“Where were you?” 

“Polly’s house.” 

“Mm.” 

You watched Tommy round the counter, taking up a clean glass and a bottle of whiskey. You nodded, stepping closer. “Please.” 

He poured a good amount before setting the glass on the table. You sat down, watching him do the same. The light in the kitchen was low, casting an orange glow about the room. You felt almost like you were being interrogated as Tommy tucked his cigarette between his lips for another drag. You took your drink up in turn, giving your hands something to do. Besides, finding your husband at home had harshly staunched your blissfully tipsy mood, and you were desperate to get it back. Tommy made no comment as you took a deep swig, and you fought away a wince at the taste and burned as you gulped it down greedily. 

“How was the meeting?” You asked.

“Fine…Would you like to know what it’s about?” 

“If you’d like to tell me.” 

You figured he would let it go there, but he gave a short nod, offering: “We’ve reached a trade agreement with your man in New York.” 

“I’m glad to hear it.” 

“Lewis can fill you in on the particulars later.” 

Your brows jumped. “Lewis was there?” 

“The business concerned him, I made sure he was in attendance.” 

“I’m sure he appreciated it.” 

He hummed, leaning back in his seat. You took another deep swig from your glass, but you couldn’t bring yourself to draw your gaze away from Tommy’s. He seemed so relaxed—though, maybe it was absurd to find a man relaxed simply because he had removed his suit jacket. Still, he looked irritatingly dashing in his waistcoat. 

“Tell me about yourself,” He ordered as you lowered your glass to the table. You cleared your throat, shaking your swimming head to try and clear that, too.

“Pardon me?” 

“Well,” Tommy plucked up the bottle again, topping your glass up. “As you have reminded me, you are my wife. I ought to know something about you.” 

“...Are you drunk?”

His lips quirked with a small smile. “No. But if you keep on like that, you will be.”

“I’ll be fine.” 

“If you say so.” 

“I do say so, thank you.”

“I have to be drunk to want to learn about my wife?”

My wife. It made you feel oddly warm as he said it…Though perhaps that was the whiskey. 

“We didn’t exactly have the most conventional courtship, or wedding,” You reminded him.  

“All the more reason for me to learn about you now.” 

“I don’t know where to start.” 

“How about with the things you like.” 

“I will tell you,” You nod slowly, “But only if you tell me about yourself in turn.” 

Thomas seemed to purse his lips before he sat up in his seat. He held his hand out, the gold of his wedding ring glinting in the light. 

“You have a deal.” 

You hesitated for a few moments, certain that he was putting you on. But when he didn’t draw it back, you raised your hand in turn, grasping his and giving it a shake. 

--  

The first hint of light made you wince and turn away. Your mouth was obscenely dry; your head was pounding harshly. You groaned, rolling away from the window. Oh…You did not feel good. Your head felt like it was going to burst; your stomach rolled like you were taking a rocky transatlantic crossing. Oh, god…Were you going to be sick?

You peeked an eye open, then squeezed it shut again. Oh, no. You weren���t sure which was worse, having your eyes open or keeping them closed. You hesitantly opened both eyes, then groaned more loudly, tucking your head beneath your pillow. No. Having your eyes open was definitely worse. 

You heard a harsh thudding, as if a giant has managed to get into your room. What on earth—

The pillow lifted away, and you tipped your head up into the cool brush of fingertips against your forehead. 

“How’s our Sleeping Beauty?” 

You weren’t sure what flustered you more: the teasing tone of Tommy’s voice, or the way the word beauty sounded coming out of his mouth. 

“Right as rain,” You mumbled. “Or I will be, once you stop yelling.”

His chuckle brushed your forehead. 

“Pearl is on her way to look in on you. Apparently Esme is doing just as well as you are this morning.” 

“I don’t wish this on my worst enemy.” 

“Rest up.” 

“I wasn't planning on doing anything else.” 

“Good girl.” 

Before you could ask, or argue, or throw a hand out to slap him on the shoulder, he brushed a kiss to your forehead, then drew away fully. You listened to the retreat of his footsteps, a pause, the scraping of the curtains being drawn closed, and the gentle scruuuuuuh—thump of him shutting your bedroom door behind himself. You only dared look around after a few minutes, when you were certain he was gone. You rolled onto your back, sighing and trying to ignore the thud-thud-thud behind your eyes. 

You feel like hell, but last night was sort of…Nice. 

Drinking with the girls and breaking down some of the barriers before your families had been a success, but coming home to Thomas was…New. It wasn’t unpleasant, as you would’ve previously thought. You scrubbed your hand gently across your eyes, trying to recall your conversation. You had it in bits and pieces—his love of horses, his devotion to his family, his worries for Arthur and John. You wondered if he told you those things because you’d been spifflicated that he didn’t think you’d remember a damn thing. But you remembered. 

You remembered the almost kind way that he’d smiled at you a couple of times. You remembered the way he’d taken your hand and led you up the stairs, steadying you when you’d wobbled and taken uneasy steps. You remembered him turning his back as you’d gotten undressed, waiting for you to get into bed before bidding you a goodnight. 

A knocking on the door drew you up from your recollection, and you winced at the sound. 

“Yes?” You croaked. The door opened, and to your surprise, two heads poked through. 

“You’re in a state,” Polly chuckled before Pearl opened your door the rest of the way. The two entered your room, each eyeing the furnishings that were soon to be replaced. You pushed yourself up, wincing as your head spun. 

“Had a night, did you?” Pearl settled onto the bed beside you. 

“Could you lower your voice, please,” You grumbled. 

“Did you go right to bed when you came home?” 

“I meant to.” 

“But you didn’t?” Polly chimed in. 

“No.” You winced as you raised your voice just a touch. “I…I had a conversation with my husband.” 

Polly and Pearl cast one another curious glances, so unlike the cutting looks they’d leveled at one another just a couple of days ago. 

“It was fine,” You added. “It was…” Nice? Enlightening? Something you would be happy to have again? “Cordial.” 

“Was he drinking?” Polly plied.

“We both were.” 

Polly and Pearl each hissed, chased by sympathetic tuts.

“You should’ve quit while you were ahead,” Pearl admonished. 

“I certainly know that now.” 

Polly took another look at you before she patted Pearl’s shoulder, offering, “I’ll put the kettle on.” 

“You’re a saint,” Pearl smiled. You sagged back against the headboard, scrubbing a hand over your brow as Polly disappeared.

“Since when are the two of you so friendly?” You asked. Pearl shrugged. 

“We’ve come to an understanding…As you have with your husband, apparently.” 

“I think it may be a very different kind of understanding.” 

“D’you mind if I smoke?” 

“...I don’t mean to sound harsh, but if you smoke, Pearl, I will be sick.”

“Better out than in.” 

“Please, no.” 

-- 

It wasn’t every night—it wasn’t even most nights, but you began to spend time with Thomas. It started with him coming home just as you finished dinner, and progressed to Thomas making it home just in time for dinner. Conversation wasn’t always freely flowing, and a few of those first dinners were a little quiet, and awkward. But as you spent more and more time together, those silences became more and more rare, and when conversation wilted, the quiet was comfortable. 

You still slept apart, but for the life of you, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d heard Lizzie creeping out of the house as you awoke. Maybe she’d managed to work out which floorboards didn’t creak; maybe Thomas had stopped having her in the house…Or having her at all. 

You were certain that the second possibility was the most likely. It still wasn’t the ideal situation, but you appreciated it all the same. Not only had Thomas kept his promise and been discreet, but he was taking the pains to distance you from his romantic liaisons. It was…Almost sweet, all things considered. 

--  

“...What are you reading?” 

You jolted at the question, sucking in a gasp and dropping the manuscript that had been in your hand. Thomas’ brows rose as he walked deeper into the sitting room. 

“You scared me,” You grumbled. “How long have you been here?” 

“A few minutes. I called out twice when I came in.” 

“Oh,” You frowned. “I’m sorry, I must not have heard you.” 

“Clearly.” 

He walked deeper into the room, taking up the fallen manuscript and sitting on the green velvet settee beside you. You let your gaze linger, sweeping over him. His jacket had always been removed, though his waistcoat was still intact. His cool eyes swept over the page, brow furrowing a touch as he took in the content. His head began to turn toward you, and you hurriedly stood, rounding to the bar cart. 

“Would you like a drink?” You asked. 

“Sure.” 

You plucked up the bottle of whiskey, uncapping it and pouring a good amount. You rounded back to him, holding the glass out. He crossed his legs, resting the manuscript against it before he took the drink with one hand, patting the seat beside him with the other. You lowered yourself back down hesitantly, acutely aware of the way your thighs brushed. 

“What is this?” He asked, nodding toward the pages. 

“A book that was sent to us.” 

“Topside?” 

You smiled a little. Topside was how your family had always referred to the legitimate side of your publishing operations. You were certain that you and the others had said it around Tommy and his family before, but you were surprised he remembered. 

“Yes,” You nodded. 

“D’you like it?” 

“Ah…” You considered before you blew softly between your lips. “I’ve read worse.” 

“I’m not sure if that’s an indictment or praise.” 

You chuckled. “It’s got a good frame, but the writing is unpolished. Could be good, with a little bit of work.” 

“Will you work on it yourself?” 

“I may. Need something to do with my time.” It felt like the wrong thing to say as soon as you said it—but Thomas simply hummed, turning the page as he lifted his drink to his lips. 

“Redecorating hasn’t been enough of a challenge?” He asked after a moment. 

“Well it was, but I’m nearly through. The only room in the house that I haven’t touched is yours.”

“And why is that?” His eyes slid toward you, and the sudden shock of blue made your stomach flip. You shrugged a little, shaking your head. 

“I didn’t think you’d want me to.” 

Thomas nodded before he turned back to the pages. The two of you fell into silence, and you leaned in a little, reading over his shoulder.  

“...Dinner’ll be ready soon,” You told him after a few moments. He nodded, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth, away from you. 

“What’re we having?” 

“Roast chicken.” 

“Vegetables?” 

“Potatoes and carrots.” 

“Gravy?” 

“Of course. I’m not an animal.” 

Thomas huffed a soft laugh through his nose. He turned his head toward you a little, his lips brushing your temple. The touch made your eyes slide closed, your stomach fluttering at the sensation. You were so caught up that you nearly missed what he said next:

“We’re going to London tomorrow.” 

You frowned, glancing up toward him. “Why?” 

“I’ve a meeting.” 

“A meeting that involves me?” 

“I want you with me.” He turned his head a little more, nuzzling lightly against your hair. “Besides, it’ll be good for you to get out of the house for a bit.” 

“I get out enough.” 

“I think you could do with a bit more.” 

You hummed thoughtfully before you leaned away, patting his thigh lightly. 

“I’ll go check on the bird.” 

You only managed to get up and take a single step before Thomas caught hold of your hand. You glanced back as he raised it to his lips, brushing a tender kiss to your knuckles. The action was so small, yet so intimate that it made your breath catch in your throat. He gave your hand a squeeze before letting go of it, letting his arm drift up to rest on the settee. You turned away, hurrying toward the kitchen. 

Once you were alone, you braced your hands on the counter, drawing in a deep breath and pushing it out again. Your skin seemed to tingle where he kissed it, and you glanced down, as if you could see some discernible change. You shook your head, shaking your hand before you turned to the oven. 

Dinner, get dinner together. You could worry about Thomas’ touch and the trip to London later. 

Next Part

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[mrs-elsie-barnes]

The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 17

Revelations In Tønsberg | Loki x Reader

Thor accompanies you and Loki back to Tønsberg and a warm welcome from the Asgardian court. A far cry from the golden luxury of the The Golden Palace of the gods, but certainly more homey. The villagers get to know you better and secrets are revealed.

Warnings: 18+ for language & sexual content. Dirty talk, prince/princess kink? (is that a thing?), p in v to make up for the parental issues I'm exorcising in this fic. Rated D for Daddy issues and C for cosy.

A/N: what do you mean it's summer? No I obviously didn't slip on my timeline for posting by like 6 months I don't know what you're talking about.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics , @reveriesources and me.

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

Your second journey by Bifrost was no more bearable than the first, leaving your head swimming and your stomach roiling as you came to a stop. 

Thor laughed heartily and slapped Loki on the back, exchanging jovial words about your trist at the Golden Palace, no doubt. The god seemed to have no filter and no qualms about discussing your private life, even in the open square of Tønsberg. 

With a gentle hand on your back, Loki led you forwards, your eyes still on the cobblestones while you attempted to get your bearings without being sick. 

“Welcome back!” Brunnhilde’s voice carried across the harbour and you finally took the opportunity to take in your surroundings. In your haste to get away from the Avengers you had forgotten what had happened the last time you walked along the sea front of Tønsberg and suddenly it all came swimming back. The queasy feeling in your stomach intensified. “I worried we’d never see you hear again,” she strode across the sea soaked front, her arms wide and welcoming, “but we are happy to welcome you back.” 

Thor opened his arms in return, beaming and ready to embrace the King of Asgard, but she bypassed him entirely and wrapped her arms around your middle, pulling you away from Loki and lifting your toes off the ground with the ferocity of her embrace. 

“It’s good to see you as well, Brunnhilde.” The panic that had begun to rise ebbed away, and then there was another pressure at your back and Thor enveloped you in a bear hug, squeezing you into Brunnhilde. 

“Loki’s little trouble maker, back in Tønsberg, I am so happy.” He thrilled, resting his cheek on top of your head and rubbing your arms. “I always wanted a sister-” he paused, “well, a sister that didn’t want to destroy everything -” You both went still as you remembered the prophecy left by Frigga. Thor floundered for words. “Anyway, we shall feast and drink and celebrate your return, I am sure. You are most welcome.”

“That’s quite enough,” Loki coughed, finding your hand again and guiding you, now slightly ruffled, back to his side. You stood on your tip toes and placed a wet kiss on his cheek, nuzzling him with your nose. 

“Don’t be jealous,” you teased, and his arm around you tightened. 

“Jealous? I am not jealous, I am concerned. I left you here once and -” 

 Jealous 

You allowed the thought to float to him and watched as his eyes darkened. 

I am not jealous of that oaf, merely protective. Surely that is allowed after two kidnapping attempts. 

Brunnhilde’s eyes drifted from Loki to your face, watching as it dropped and your shoulders tensed, “-let’s not concern ourselves with the past. Let’s look to the future, come inside we just finished a council meeting so the hall is empty.” She turned and led the way towards the long hall, pulling her suit jacket tight around her middle against the biting wind whipping from the sea. While it’d been cold in America, here it was icy, but before you could shiver you felt the ring of Loki’s magic and a navy blue peacoat engulfed you, the inside already warm. You looked over at Loki, surprised that he wouldn’t put you in his own colours, and he merely smiled, looking out on the sea and pretending he hadn’t noticed your new attire, but you couldn’t help but notice the twinkle of emerald green in each shining button. 

You looked out too, seeing the waves on the horizon cresting and falling, the gulls circling the frothing water and steadied yourself to take in Tønsberg with fresh eyes. 

At your first visit, you’d visited Brunnhilde’s cottage, tucked away two streets back from the harbour, inconspicuous and modest. Now she was leading you towards the long, low building that stood in the centre of the main thoroughfare opposite the harbour. Above the door there was a symbol, tall lines forming a pyramid in a strangely familiar way. 

Asgard’s Palace 

Loki looked up too, taking your hand, this is the new symbol of Asgard and our rebuilt court. Welcome, Princess. 

Princess. You hadn’t considered your role here either, that you weren’t just a visitor, but a royal visitor, at the pleasure of the Royal court, small as it was, modest as the Long Hall appeared. And your heart swelled with pride and belonging. Loki squeezed your hand again, the same pride reflected in his eyes. 

You looked around again, viewing the village with fresh eyes. 

Behind the village itself, building work had started on further homes and the dock, which on your previous visit only held a few fishing boats, was full of tourist vessels bobbing next to wooden row boats. 

Thor opened the door of the long building, waving his arm for you to enter.

“Welcome to the Asgardian Court, Princess Estrid.” Thor bowed as you passed and you heard the unmistakable sound of Loki smacking him playfully on the back of the head as he followed. 

Inside the hall was reassuringly simple and looked very much like the village halls you had seen once or twice during your time in London. The noticeboard was full of flyers for music lessons, hobby groups and items for sale, a few images of a village fete and a sign up list for organising events had a few scrawled names, but no contact details. You sighed in relief, half expecting to be thrown back into the excess of the Golden Palace alongside its rules and regulations. But life in the Long Hall seemed much more relaxed and familiar.  

A few people were moving chairs around, stacking them at the edges of the room, calling to each other as they worked. The smell of brewing tea and freshly baked biscuits wafted from the open hatch to the kitchen where a group of older Asgardians carefully placed doilies on trays and arranged mugs. 

The only out of place item was a blue and gold velvet curtain that decorated a dais at one end of the room. Even in the winter light the floor to ceiling windows let in enough light to make the gold brocade shine. 

“Sorry, it’s - King stuff, you know?” Brunnhilde shrugged, almost embarrassed by the pdecadence of the set u[, and waved to another Asgardian in the kitchen, holding her hand up and mouthing drinking, a chorus of ‘just a minute’ responded and before you knew it there was a table set in the middle of the hall, drinks and food covering the surface. 

“By Loki’s face I’m assuming this is more than a social call,” Brunnhilde asked, pouring a large cup of tea into a pint sized mug with Authentic Asgardian Mead printed on the side. 

“Wise as ever,” Loki smiled, “we have come to ask you more questions about Estrid.” Under the table he took your hand, twining your fingers together. “We met another god, claiming to know her, he attempted to kidnap her and - we heard a prophecy.” 

Brunnhilde lent into her chair, rocking it on its legs while Loki described your encounter during the Avenger’s mission and raising an eyebrow at his admission that a prophecy was involved. 

“Well, you’ve certainly been busy, I thought she’d keep you out of trouble, not get you into more of it.” She grinned and Thor laughed, shaking his brother’s shoulder. 

“She surely is Trouble,” Thor smiled indulgently, ruffling the top of your head. 

“But Loki says he couldn’t see him, he was tall, he had this spear -” suddenly it all bubbled to the surface and you had to get it out, everything you’d seen, what had happened. Between sips of the tea that appeared in front of you, you told Brunnhilde everything. 

“Lugh,” Brunnhilde said, thoughtfully, “it was a five pointed spear, correct?” 

You both nodded and Brunnhilde rocked her chair again, “definitely Lugh, and he knew your mother? And that you should go with him?” She raised an eyebrow again before looking away thoughtfully. 

“He said it over and over, he wanted me to go with him, and said it wasn’t safe for me.” The legs of her chair hit the floor with a thump. 

“And now tell me about the prophecy.” 

Loki took the marble from his pocket and placed the halves together again, releasing the voice of his mother into the room. The Asgardians fell silent, those still tidying from the council meeting stopped and bowed their heads at the memory of their fallen Queen. 

“I saw a vision of a flock in chaos, a singular lamb frolicked in its midst, a lamb with a fiery fleece. It has burnt the farm. But from the ashes rises lush land, strong crops and healthy babes. I have told this vision to my husband, and Lugh, he does not believe me when I say she is no threat, he believes this to be a prophecy of Ragnarok, he cannot see the verdant land beyond the fire. You must hide the girl, my friend, I can protect her no longer.” 

“Frigga,” Brunnhilde whispered, “she had many visions but, I can’t understand why you think this pertains to you?” She turned to you, studying your face. “We have no idea why Frigga sent this to Lugh, if you are the lamb mentioned or the girl. I do not see why he should be involved or concerned with you at all.”

“They were friends, were they not?” One of the villagers said from the kitchen, leaning through the hatch, “Lugh and Brigid, they were firm friends, often talking at the events. Frigga knew Lugh by associate as well. Perhaps that’s why?” 

“Yes, yes,” another agreed. “He was always chatting to the women folk, a kind, gentle man, never married himself mind.” Another dropped off a plate of kanelbulle, the deep scent of cinnamon wafting down the table. 

“Perhaps it’s time the girl heard all,” the time roughened voice came from behind you this time but there were many nods and noises of agreement throughout the room. 

Brunnhilde looked uncomfortable, but settled in her chair nonetheless. “Your mother was married to a man called Bres, a god of sorts who joined with your mother’s pantheon, he even became King, for a time. He was a Midgardian god as Odin was, residing in a place called the Otherworld. He was deeply unpopular, I didn’t want to upset you, when you visited before, you and Loki looked so happy I - I’m sorry. I should have told you, he was not a well liked God, but I wanted to spare you. Your mother though,” a ripple of happy sighs and murmers fluttered around the room and you were instantly self conscious. “She was very well liked, she visited Asgard many times.” 

“So… why did she marry this Bres? Is he my father?”  

“They didn’t love each other did they?” Tears welled in your eyes, for all your fears that you’d be sold into a loveless, political marriage, it had never occured to you that this fate had already befallen your mother. 

“No, I’m sorry, I believe that your mother, Brigid, loved another. Though I’m not sure who. But Bres is not your father, your mother was already pregnant, you see, when the marriage was arranged and you were born just before the ceremony. Your mother was a free spirit, she liked to travel and make friends, she brought back floral and fauna, stories and trinkets, art, crafts and, after a longer journey. You.” 

The four of you sat in silence for a few moments, contemplating what Brunnhilde had said. Bres really should have been your father and, officially, he was. But your mother didn’t love him and they weren’t married when you were born - your head swam with new information. 

“I remember.” A voice coughed behind you, stuttering through the passages of time, the stooped Asgardian shuffled around the table. Thor stood and offered her his seat, sliding the chair back into place and standing regally behind it. 

“Please,” you reached your free hand across the table towards the woman, considering Loki was easily two thousand years old, the woman must have been ancient, her face creased with memories, her skin paper thin. “I remember you,” and the memory lit up her eyes, “Estrid, Brigidsdotter, you brought so much joy to the palace, small one. And your mother loved you very much, so much that she brought you many times to spare you from Bres.” At his name the woman looked angry, her lips pursing. 

“She did?” Your eyes welled with tears, you had wondered why you were left on Asgard so much, how you’d come to know the Princes so well if your mother had loved you. 

“My dear small one, you are young, you will learn, sometimes loss is its own kind of affection, she took that burden for you, to protect you.” She paused to cough and you offered her a cup of tea from the pot. “Thank you, always so kind - He was not kind though, he came to you once and there was such shouting as you have never heard, the palace rocked with the sound of it - and in the morning,” she coughed again, “you were gone, small one, the boys, they had forgotten it all.” She reached a hand up and Thor took it between his palms as gently as if he held a small bird. 

“We forgot?” He asked.

“You all forgot, she made you, the Queen, it was for the best for you to forget, so that it would not hurt you to be separated. Especially you, Prince of Mischief.” He eyes twinkled as she smiled at Loki. “I assumed it was to hide you from Bres again, but then Odin sent out a party to search for you.” She hummed, eyes closing a second longer than necessary when she blinked.

“He wanted her back? Safe?” Loki asked.

“He wanted to imprison you I suppose.” She coughed and brought a handkerchief from the sleeve of her cardigan. “You,who had brought so much joy and so much trouble to his doorstep, he was afraid of you.” She laughed but it turned into another wet, painful, cough.

Loki shook his head, “how can that be, the Allfather, afraid of a girl -” he turned to you quickly, ���no offence meant, my Darling,” he brought your hand to his lips and kissed your fingers. 

“No, of course, he is, was, the Allfather, how could he have feared me.” Confusion crossed your face and the old lady patted your hand. 

“Small one, full of power, so much power you could not comprehend. The prophecy, it was about you and he feared you would bring Ragnarok if you stayed, you would burn the city with your magic and dance in the flames.” She shrugged, her cardigan sliding on her thin shoulders, and then took a draught of her tea, smacking her lips and reaching for a biscuit when she was done. 

“But Ragnarok happened already, that’s why we’re here,” Loki scrunched his brow, “and it was Hela, it was nothing to do with Estrid.” 

“Well maybe it was wrong, what do I know.” She patted Thor’s hand. “But I do know,” her eyes twinkled and if you didn’t know better, you’d say it was the same spark of mischief that Loki possessed, “I do know that Lugh,” she said his name like a sigh, one hand over her heart, “he was a kind man to all, and he loved your mother, so very much, that he would protect you, even now. He didn’t know how, of course, but he visited you once and Bres - well - as I say, it shook the palace.” 

Tears were threatening again, you couldn’t help it, it was all too much, should you have gone with him? Trusted him? Had he kidnapped you or was it another? Your mind raced.  

“I’m sorry, small one, I grow very weary, I am not as spritely as I once was.” 

“Thank you, thank you so much.” You reached across the table to hug her, your senses filling with an instant calm, a forgotten memory of the Asgardian nursery, the school rooms billowing with chalk dust and the grey teacher who watched over your work. “Thank you.” 

“Oh small one, it is my pleasure to see you so well again.” She smiled back, but tears didn’t come, instead her eyes looked milky and unfocussed, “I - Princess Estrid, what in the Nine Realms are you wearing - and Prince Loki, do unhand the young girl - I was - I was - look at the board -” she made a half turn, stumbling into Thor’s arms, “I must -” 

Thor tucked her tiny arm in his and kept her upright, “I shall escort her home, I know the way.” He nodded at you all, “I trust we shall discuss this later?” 

“Yes, of course brother, later.” Loki touched his elbow as he passed while you stared at the noticeboard again, silent tears spilling down your cheeks. 

When you’d helped to tidy away the table and the other Asgardian ladies had fussed over you awhile, Loki decided it was time to retire and discuss all that had been revealed to you. He had watched you working, leaning against Brunnhilde’s throne, while they spoke in hushed voices about the prophecy.

Outside of the tall windows the night had drawn in quickly, the sun already below the horizon despite the fact it was only mid-afternoon. In the lamplight you could see thick flakes of snow passing in and out of the light. 

“My darling,” Loki cooed, arms curling around your waist and his chin on your shoulder, “you work with my people is much appreciated, but I believe we should leave now, we have much to discuss.” 

You nodded in agreement and said goodbye to your new Asgardian friends. They were friendly, happy people, relaxing into their new life as much as they could with the weight of their loss still hanging heavy over them. You remembered snippets of life in Asgard, but the sheltered palace and walled grounds were a world away from the casual court of this new land, and you had to admit you enjoyed it.

At the door of the long hall Loki waved his hand, alongside your coat, a matching hat and gloves appeared. His own fell around his knees, accentuating the long lines of his body, and he lifted the collar against the chill breeze shifting the airy snow across the doorstep. 

Naturally, you fell into step next to each other, your arms linked and shoulders bumping together. You passed the turning for Brunnhilde’s road and suddenly your heart hammered, you had made it this far last time. You had walked from Brunnhilde’s home to the harbour’s edge, you’d watched the boats, far fewer boats then, bobbing in the waves, and now you were watching them creak against the crisp wind, snow icing their edges. 

“You have nothing to fear, Asynja,” Loki assured, putting his arm around your waist instead. You had to walk slower, but you did feel safer this close to his body. 

“I know -” you took a deep breath, watching it mist in the air as you exhaled, “I was alone before.” 

“Though I’m truly sorry, beyond any words, that I was not here to escort you before, that isn’t what I meant.” He stopped you then and your heart beat wildly. The cottages were lit up in the darkness and you longed to be safe inside. “You have nothing to fear, anything out here stalking you now -” you hitched a breath, “- not that there is,” he cupped your cheeks, tipping your chin up. “There is nothing out here that your power cannot match, nothing that you cannot beat, you have no reason to fear, they should be afraid of you.” His eyes were ablaze, firm and proud. 

“I don’t know about that, Loki, I-”

“Darling, you are Princess Estrid, daughter of Brigid, this is a magnificent lineage all of its own. I’ve seen what you can do, what your raw magic can create, you have nothing to fear.” 

“Okay,” you weren’t entirely convinced, but Loki’s surety made you feel as if you could take on the world anyway, just as long as he was by your side. 

“It seems I need to prove it to you further,” he stepped away from you, taking the coat he’d conjured with him and a chill ran up your spine, the flare of magic was as natural as the shiver itself, a heavy cloak and fur collar fell about you, fluffing up behind your neck to protect you from any further cold. 

Loki smiled, the predatory smile he employed when he had been proved right, “without thought, my darling, you look truly regal, as you deserve to be.” He approached you again, holding his hand out and, as it touched yours, he allowed himself to exchange his modern peacoat for a matching robe. 

“Do you believe me now, Princess?” He teased the question against your lips, pulling back when you leaned into him. 

“Yes, I believe you.” You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully. 

“Good,” Loki’s cold lips met yours, as all consuming as his belief in you, you tipped your head, deepening the kiss until your tongues slid together, noses brushing and the snow falling like glitter around you. 

You stumbled over the threshold of Loki’s Tønsberg home intending to take in the details of his cottage, to learn more about him, to talk over the new information revealed at the long hall. But his lips on your neck, pushing the heavy fabric to the floor where it billowed into glittering magic at your feet, the overwhelming scent of him as he slammed the door behind you both and pressed you into the wall. You were incapable of thinking of anything else, of this god before you, a Prince, and you felt every inch the Princess he believed you could be. That sensation alone filled you with a burning desire. 

“Loki,” you moaned and he groaned against your lips. 

“Say my name,” he growled, “say it again.”

“Only if -” you panted, pulling away to drag your sweater over your head, “only if you call me Princess again.” 

Loki’s eyes darkened, his smile feral as he loomed over you, one hand braced against the wall, his body hovering over yours, barely touching, the other traced your ear, down your cheek, to your lips. “You like when I call you Princess?” he purred, dragging your bottom lip with his thumb and you latched onto it, drawing the digit into your mouth and nodding. “Then who am I to deny you, Princess.”

“Ugh, Loki,” you sagged against the wall, reaching for his lapels and drawing him back into your kisses.

“That’s a good girl,” he swept you up in his kiss, lifting you into his arms and carrying you up the narrow stairs to his bedroom. Candles flickered as you passed, illuminating the room in a golden glow. 

Loki’s bed was huge, taking up a large portion of the room with its posts and swathes of emerald velvet. He’d placed you on an equally luxurious blanket, but you could feel the cold slick of silk behind you. 

He prowled towards you, crowding you backwards into the pillows and crushing your lips together again. Your hands sought the hard planes of his chest, ripping the buttons from his shirt and revealing the dips of his muscles to your hungry eyes. 

“I need you so badly, fuck -” you dug your hands into his hair, needing something, anything, to ground you. 

“Darling,” his chest rumbled with each breath, his kisses deep and languid. 

You weren’t sure whose magic removed the rest of your clothes, but you knew when you could feel the hard length of him against your thigh that this was exactly where you needed to be, where you had always belonged. You canted your hips against him, trying to gain any friction to quell the aching between your legs. 

“My Princess,” he looked down at you, his eyes full of emotion and lust, blurred together into an intoxicating cocktail, you shivered again, your own slick mixing with the precum leaking onto your leg. “Are you going to keep being a good girl for me?” He asked, nosing at the sensitive spot on your neck, licking over the pulse. 

“Do you want me to be good?” You teased back, wrapping your legs around his hips.

It took him a moment to answer while he took in your prone form, spread below him in the candlelight, sparking with magic, before he met your eyes again, notching the head of his cock at your entrance. 

“No, I don’t,” he grinned. “I want you to be bad, I want you to be naughty, my Goddess, my Asynja, I want you to be wicked and cruel and ruthless. I want you to take exactly what you want from me." 

You clawed at his back, leaving red tracks on his porcelain skin while he snarled with lust, sheathing himself inside of you. 

He was animalistic, growling as he set a punishing pace, his forehead pressed to yours. 

You gripped his hips, using them to pull yourself closer, rolling your body to meet his with every thrust. 

“Loki - ugh - My Prince!” You cried out, your stomach tightened, clenching around his hard length. 

That feral smile returned and he slowed his movements, rolling onto his back and dragging you with him until you were seated in his lap, his cock, so deep, you could swear you could see the outline of him. His hands found your waist again, urging you to begin moving. 

“My Prince,” you panted, squeezing your eyes closed at the sheer bliss of being so close to him, so connected you could feel his heartbeat inside of you. 

“My Princess,” Loki sat up to kiss you, his muscles flexing, sweat dipping into each rivulet, “I want you to take your pleasure, my darling, let me be your throne, tell your court your wicked desires.” 

With a moan you kissed the smile from his face, devouring him, his words like a match to tinder in your veins. And you moved. So slowly it was almost painful, teasing the length of him from your body, feeling the drag of each deliciously, thick inch against your fluttering walls, before lowering yourself again, hands on his chest, head tipped back in sheer ecstasy. 

“That’s it, use my body for your pleasure, sit upon your throne.” He cried as he came hard inside you to the feel of your pulsing walls and tightening fingers. 

As he rolled you over again you were sure you could get used to being a Princess. 

<<Chapter 16

Chapter 18 >>

[katewritesthings]

Love Me Like I Can - Prologue// Introductions

This is just prologue to test interest. Most of Diana's songs are by the artist JoJo. ( For the song Joanna, just pretend it's Diana)

pairing: Joe Burrow x Singer! Original Female Character

•summary: Inspired by Scandoval and Taylor/Travis. R&B singer Diana Hayes navigates falling in love after a cheating scandal captures the attention of America and a certain Bengal.

•warnings: Cursing. Cheating. Sexual Situations. Drinking. Drug use. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Prologue // Introductions

October 18, 2023

Finding out was a complete accident. Diana was not the type of person that had the unquenchable curiosity for what is on their partner’s phone. In hindsight, maybe she should have paid even a bit of attention to Connor’s. Maybe the revelation wouldn’t have blindsided her, hitting her like a ton of bricks.

Every step that led to her finding out was motivated by trying to support Connor. His band, Bedford Scrolls, had just finished playing their final show of tour in their hometown of Boston and she was trying to get the best videos and pictures she could of him playing his bass. The entire tour was being documented on the reality show that the band starred in, but Connor always liked personal videos he could post on TikTok. She opened his camera roll to see if the pictures she took turned out the way she wanted when she scrolled one picture too far. The rage of betrayal washed over Diana as her stomach hit the ground. She was staring directly at her best friend’s bare chest. On the phone that belonged to her boyfriend of seven years. Unable to completely process the situation at hand with the screaming of the crowd surrounding her, Diana opened the camera roll to the grid revealing the pictures that Connor had taken in the past three months. There were numerous pictures of Hannah in various states of undress peppered in between the pictures of Diana  In a flash, she began selecting all of the photos that didn’t contain nudity and AirDropped them to herself while trying to navigate herself back to Connor’s dressing room.

After she felt the buzz of confirmation from her own phone in her pocket, Diana opened Connor’s phone app and dialed Hannah’s number. If the show had just ended that meant that the traitor was currently at the band’s hotel. With a huff, Diana mentally cursed herself for getting Hannah put on the band’s payroll. “Hey, baby! I thought you’d still be on stage!” The familiar voice of her best friend hit her ears as she navigated backstage to slam open the door to the green room. Connor and his three bandmates were freshening up while a few other friends lounged about.

“How long have the two of you been the absolute scum of the earth,” Diana heard her own voice sneer. The question captured the attention of the entire room she had just entered and silenced the woman on the other end of the phone.

Miles, the band’s lead singer, looked like he was about to open his mouth to ask for clarification for the whole room before Connor cut him off. 

“Let’s not do this here, Di. Let’s go somewhere to talk about this in private. You don’t want to embarrass yourself,” he said, voice even and calmer than he should be. Diana saw red, knowing what he was attempting to do. Connor had a habit of wanting to paint their relationship as picture-perfect, he wanted to do damage control and convince her to let this go. Unfortunately, this was not a random girl in Miami like at the beginning of their relationship. This was a new level of betrayal.

“Fuck that, Connor. What’s embarrassing is knowing that I thought you were good enough for me. Let everyone know how you’ve got more naked pictures of Hannah on your phone than I could count,”

Gasps and sounds of shock almost drowned out the sound of Hannah ending the call. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back to Diana. She felt like her throat was closing up as she began to process what this meant for her. Not only did this change everything when it came to her personal life, it was going to cause huge issues in her professional life.

Diana had been in the industry since she was 14 and nominated for her first Grammy. Even as a young teenager, there was a soulful warmth in her voice that combined with her range led to her first album winning Best Contemporary R&B album in 2012. Her career continued to steadily climb over the next few years as she dabbled in acting and released three more albums in 2014, 2016, and 2018, but she had never felt the security of someone on a bigger label. It had been almost six years since she had released music and that was supposed to be coming to an end. 

Diana had been planning on recording her third album after Bedford Scrolls’ tour and recording of Band Together had finished filming. Connor’s manager had promised her that if she went on tour with them and was featured in the season, it would drum up attention for the announcement of her return to music. He had talked her into signing a contract to appear in at least six episodes this season and the reunion. He even hinted at the possibility that she could use the networking to secure a documentary about making the album. 

All Diana could think about at the moment was how all of that was now a pipe dream. In her anger, she threw Connor’s phone across the room and let her phone carry her to the back exit of the venue. Emotions were swirling through her head and the thought of the material she had worked on about and with Connor now made her sick. She was going to have to start over, but couldn’t until the reunion was filmed in mid-November. 

—-

OCTOBER 20, 2023

DIANA AND CONNOR CALL IT QUITS! ALLEGATIONS HE CHEATED WITH.. HANNAH MALONEY!!

Musicians and stars of the reality show Band Together, CONNOR LEWIS and DIANA Hayes are officially no more, representatives for the pair have confirmed to TMZ.

After seven years, the couple has reportedly decided to go their separate ways. As surprising as this news is, it’s not nearly as shocking as news that Connor is rumored to have an affair with cast member, employee, and friend Hannah Maloney.

The Show Band Together follows the musical career of Connor’s band Bedford Scrolls as they navigate the messy life of music from writing to touring. Diana has been featured occasionally on the show in past seasons but was heavily featured in the trailer for Season 3 which premiered October 8. Hannah is a close friend of Diana’s who eventually became an assistant for Bedford Scrolls and is also featured on the show.

In the promo for Season 3, it was suggested that Connor and Diana were in an open relationship. This rumor was quickly shut down when Diana shared the promo to her Instagram stories with the caption “I’m not that cool. Bisexual =/= polyamory”

Show sources let TMZ know that the break up was recent as the couple has been seen together at tour dates for Bedford Scrolls as recently as Wednesday. Fans also report this as they say that Diana was Connor’s biggest fan at the final show of the tour, but left the venue alone in tears in a cab shortly after the set ended.

—--

October 29, 2023

DIANA SEEN OUT SWIFTLY AFTER SPLIT WITH EX, CONNOR

Edibles singer DIANA HAYES was spotted in NYC, leaving Electric Lady studios this morning. This is the first public sighting of Diana since news broke of her split with ex-CONNOR LEWIS. 

Last week TMZ reported that the couple split after Connor had an affair with Diana’s best friend, HANNAH MALONEY. Cast members of the reality show Band Together, and bandmates of Connor, have seemingly confirmed this by posting pictures of them with Diana in support. The hashtag #TeamDiana was trending for most of last week.

Sources close to Diana inform us that she has been staying at a rental in New York and has been offered support from big names such as Taylor Swift and Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson and even romantic offers from bachelors such as Drake.

Eagle-eyed fans are curious to see how this drama unfolds in this season of Band Together. Click here to catch up on this season of Band Together, airing now! 

—----

November 28, 2023

@DianaMusic: Wow. Where to start? 

First of all: Thank you all so much to for the outpouring of love and positivity you have sent my way over the past few weeks. Without the support I have gotten I would not have even been able to process the insanity that has happened, but with your care, I was able to throw myself into healing creatively. With this healing journey comes some good news and the bad news. 

First, this will be my last season of Band Together. 

More importantly, over the past few weeks, I have been processing through creating. This means I have recorded 4 new songs to put on an EP called, “Run” that will be released at midnight. It has been so long since I have released new music into the world that I began to question whether I had anything left to say, but now I do. This EP is just a taster of what is to come next year and I cannot wait to grow and heal with you all. 

What didn’t kill me better run. Liked by joeyb_9, conlew, and 1,423,798 others

VIew Comments.....

@taylorswift13: So proud of you! @IslaNg: They better fucking run! @hallebailey: This EP is about to be my personality

—---

RUN.

Diana 

Anxiety (Burlinda’s Theme)

Dissolve 

Man

—--

December 29, 2023

The past three months had been a whirlwind for Diana. After the revelation that Connor had cheated on her, she immediately threw herself into writing new songs. Before her flight from Boston to New York landed she had already written two of the four songs on her new EP. Diana and Anxiety were the outcomes of her mind working on overdrive about how the public was going to perceive the breakup.

Realistically, Diana knew that there would be people who blamed her, that’s just part of being a woman. Unrealistically, she was convinced that the public would take Connor’s side due to her unofficial hiatus from the public consciousness. Bedford Scrolls released their last album in September and had been touring and promoting constantly since. 

What the songwriter didn’t expect was for scandal to take the nation by storm in her favor. The nation tuned in every week to watch Band Together in hopes that they find clues of the affair in the season. As the episodes aired, it became clear that Diana was a devoted supporter of Conno meanwhile he took the chance to insult her every time she wasn’t in a scene. The footage broke Diana’s heart and ignited a vitriol for Connor like never seen before. Even Connor’s bandmates only spoke to him to berate him at the reunion for the reality show

The finale for the show had aired Sunday and it had been the only episode, bar the reunion that had been filmed after Diana had ended her relationship. She had never seen support like the outpouring of comments left when people watched as she asked Connor if he ever really loved her at all. Some fans had even correctly theorized that she had written Dissovle after filming had ended that day.

Diana had taken her new friend Taylor’s advice when she reached out and had booked as many performances as possible so she could turn the attention back to her career. She knew it was opportunistic, but after what Connor and Hannah did to her, Taylor reassured her that she deserved to secure her own future with the publicity. 

Diana had just finished singing acoustic versions of Dissolve and Man as the intro to a funk cover of “Any Man of Mine” by Shania Twain began to play. “I decided to do this song because I recently realized that it’s not selfish to want your partner to please you or be dedicated to only you… Here goes.”

—-------

DECEMBER 31, 2023

REUNION SECRETS REVEALED

Last night, the reunion of Band Together aired and exposed much more about the affair of CONNOR LEWIS and HANNAH MALONEY than we previously knew.

Isla, the drummer for Bedford Scrolls, posted on their instagram stories earlier this week defending their support of DIANA over their own bandmate Connor, saying: “You’ll see guys, some shit comes out at the reunion. Like, we found out shit we had no clue about and some stuff that was said that was absolutely heinous. As a human, it would be hard not to take Diana’s side after watching.”

After watching the reunion, it is clear what Isla was talking about. Diana, Connor, and Hannah were all in the same room for the interview where Hannah admitted the affair had been happening for almost a year.  

Things only got more heated from there as the host Andy Cohen asked Hannah why she loved and believed she could trust Connor. Hannah answered with a sexually explicit answer saying, “Connor and I are in love in such a deep way, it’s different than their relationship. He wouldn’t even go down on Diana and he’ll eat me any chance he got.”

If that weren’t enough fuel to the fire, Connor had to be removed from the stage for his safety after saying something under his breath that fans believe to have been, “Could you blame me, who wants to go down on a redhead?” because Miles and the guitarist, Zach, had gotten him into a headlock.

Fans are speculating that this might be the end of Bedford Scrolls as we know it.

—---

JANUARY 1, 2024

Diana was doing her best to try to avoid every bit of media she could for as long into the New Year as possible. It turned out, as long as possible ended up being 3 PM. Biz, Diana’s sister had burst through the AirBNB bedroom door tha Diana was currently holed up in, trying to smoke a bowl watch the newest episode of the new Percy Jackson.

“Did you see the Cheifs vs Bengals game yesterday,” the younger girl excitedly shrieked as she dramatically flopped herself on the bed next to her sister. “Uhm, is this an alternate universe? When have you ever seen me watch a sporting that I didn’t sing at” Diana shot her sister a look of confusion and taking a hit from her glass pipe.

“Because! Your name came up, watch this video!” Biz excitedly thrust her phone into her sister's hand.

The sound of her own voice was audible in the background of the video as a player with the number 1 on their jersey was being interviewed.

“I see you all are fans of Diana,” the interviewer joked as a player with a wrist splint in the background was seen in the background mouthing the words to “Man.”

“Yeah, we Team Diana in this locker room!” The player said laughing.

“Oh, yeah? Is her music on a lot in the locker room?” 

“Not like we have a choice though, with how obsessed Joe is,” the player let out another laugh pointing at the injured player in the background. Chuckles from nearby players were heard. “Shut up, Ja’Marr,” the injured man, presumably Joe shouted from the back.

 “All I’m saying is you kept saying this song was about you when you first heard it,” Ja’Marr called back over his shoulder. “Diana if you’re watching this: Hit up my boy Joey B! He ain’t afraid to e-” The video was cut off as Ja’Marr was put in a headlock by Joe.

Diana stared at her sister’s phone, uncertain who or what she just witnessed, waiting for an explanation. When none came, she looked up to find Biz’s expectant face looking hopefully back at her.

“So?” the brunette questioned, “Are you going to do it?!”

“Do what? I don’t even know what I just watched,” Diana stated, still confused. 

“You just watched Ja’Marr Chase ask you to hit up one of the most thirsted-after quarterbacks ever: Joe Burrow, and imply that said quarterback would like to get freaky with you,” Biz explained. “You have to respond.”

Diana’s cheeks filled with warmth as she mentally replayed the video in her head. She had no idea who this person was, but she had to admit he was attractive. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have her agent try to reach out for his phone number. ===== Next Chapter.

[theculturedmarxist]

In a new article titled “Ukraine’s Lack of Weaponry and Training Risks Stalemate in Fight With Russia,” The Wall Street Journal’s Daniel Michaels reports that western officials knew Ukrainian forces didn’t have the weapons and training necessary to succeed in their highly touted counteroffensive which was launched last month.

Michaels writes:

“When Ukraine launched its big counteroffensive this spring, Western military officials knew Kyiv didn’t have all the training or weapons — from shells to warplanes — that it needed to dislodge Russian forces. But they hoped Ukrainian courage and resourcefulness would carry the day. “They haven’t. Deep and deadly minefields, extensive fortifications and Russian air power have combined to largely block significant advances by Ukrainian troops. Instead, the campaign risks descending into a stalemate with the potential to burn through lives and equipment without a major shift in momentum.”

The claim that western officials had sincerely believed Ukrainian forces might be able to overcome their glaring deficits through sheer pluck and ticker is undermined later in the same article by a war pundit who says the US would never attempt such a counteroffensive without first controlling the skies, which Ukraine doesn’t have the ability to do:

“America would never attempt to defeat a prepared defense without air superiority, but they [Ukrainians] don’t have air superiority,” the U.S. Army War College’s John Nagl told WSJ. “It’s impossible to overstate how important air superiority is for fighting a ground fight at a reasonable cost in casualties.”

Antiwar’s Dave DeCamp writes the following on the latest WSJ revelation:

“Leading up to the Ukrainian counteroffensive, which was launched in June, the Discord leaks and media reports revealed that the US did not believe Ukraine could regain much territory from Russia. But the Biden administration pushed for the assault anyway, as it rejected the idea of a pause in fighting.”

So the empire is still knowingly throwing Ukrainian lives into the meat grinder of an unwinnable proxy war, even as western officials tell the public that this war is about saving Ukrainian lives and handing Putin a crushing defeat whenever they’re on camera.

This attitude from the empire is not a new development. Last October The Washington Post reported that “Privately, U.S. officials say neither Russia nor Ukraine is capable of winning the war outright, but they have ruled out the idea of pushing or even nudging Ukraine to the negotiating table.”

Now why might that be? Why would the western empire be so comfortable encouraging Ukrainians to keep fighting when it knows they can’t win?

We find our answer in another Washington Post article titled “The West feels gloomy about Ukraine. Here’s why it shouldn’t.”, authored last week by virulent empire propagandist David Ignatius. In his eagerness to frame the floundering counteroffensive in a positive light for his American audience, Ignatius let slip an inconvenient truth:

“Meanwhile, for the United States and its NATO allies, these 18 months of war have been a strategic windfall, at relatively low cost (other than for the Ukrainians). The West’s most reckless antagonist has been rocked. NATO has grown much stronger with the additions of Sweden and Finland. Germany has weaned itself from dependence on Russian energy and, in many ways, rediscovered its sense of values. NATO squabbles make headlines, but overall, this has been a triumphal summer for the alliance.”

Anyone who believes this proxy war is about helping Ukrainians should be made to read that paragraph over and over again until it sinks in. The admission that the US-centralized power structure benefits immensely from this proxy conflict is revealing enough, but that parenthetical “other than for the Ukrainians” aside really drives it home. It reads as though it was added as an afterthought, like “Oh yeah it’s actually kind of rough on the Ukrainians though — if you consider them to be people.”

The claim that this war is about helping Ukrainians has been further undermined by another new Washington Post report that Ukraine is now more riddled with land mines than any other nation on earth, and that US-supplied cluster munitions are only making the land more deadly.

That’s right kids! We’re turning Ukraine into an uninhabitable wasteland of death and dismemberment to save the Ukrainians.

We should probably talk more about the fact that the US empire is loudly promoting the goal of achieving peace in Ukraine by defeating Russia while quietly acknowledging that this goal is impossible. This is like accelerating toward a brick wall and pretending it’s an open road.

The narrative that Russia can be beaten by ramping up proxy warfare against it makes sense if you believe Russia can be militarily defeated in Ukraine, but the US empire does not believe that Russia can be militarily defeated in Ukraine. It knows that continuing this war is only going to perpetuate the death and devastation.

“Beat Putin’s ass and make him withdraw” sounds cool and is egoically gratifying, and it’s become the mainstream answer to the problem of the war in Ukraine, but nobody promoting that answer can address the fact that the ones driving this proxy war believe it’s impossible. In fact, all evidence we’re seeing suggests that the US is not trying to deliver Putin a crushing defeat in Ukraine and force him to withdraw, but is rather trying to create another long and costly military quagmire for Moscow, as western cold warriors have done repeatedly in instances like Afghanistan and Syria.

Wanting to weaken Russia and wanting to save lives and establish peace in Ukraine are two completely different goals, so different that in practice they wind up being largely contradictory. Drawing Moscow into a bloody quagmire means many more people dying in a war that drags on for years, with all the immense human suffering that that entails.

The US does not want peace in Ukraine, it wants to overextend Russia, shore up military and energy dominance over Europe, expand its war machine and enrich the military-industrial complex. That’s why it knowingly provoked this war. It’s posing as Ukraine’s savior while being clearly invested in Ukraine’s destruction.

It is not legitimate to support this proxy war without squarely addressing this massive contradiction using hard facts and robust argumentation. Nobody ever has.

[anki-of-beleriand]

Bad Liar ch. 10

Summary: Life is about lessons, and Wanda has been learning some harsh facts that had define her life and taken her to a place in which she was given a second chance. Then, all of a sudden, she meets you, and she realizes why it's easier to lie to yourself than to accpet what's right in front of her.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff/ Female!reader - America/Kate - Mentions of past Vision/Wanda - past Natasha/Reader - Some Female!Reader/Carol Danvers

Warnings: Slow burn - slightly Enemies to friends to lovers - Mentions of abusive relationships - Toxic relationships - angst - drama - mentions of abuse - idiots in love - homophobia - more tags as the story progress.

Author's note: There are some revelations as Reader takes a leap of faith and Wanda is finally confronted with her emotions, Kate is finally getting some progress, and someone just spot the twins in the mall.

As always, English is no my mother tongue, so please forgive the grammar, spelling and funny mistakes!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18

Chapter 10

Breaking the distance

The snow was falling slowly right outside your window.

There was a small smile playing on your lips, you could hear Maria giving you a full debrief of the latest developments on the different projects you were leading. A part of your mind was on what she was saying, but your other half, the one daydreaming at the moment was replying to the last couple of days inside your head.

From the moment you met her, you knew there was something about Wanda Maximoff that would either drive you mad or make you fall in an instant. It wasn’t only about her looks, for you had always thought she was a beautiful woman, it was more about her own personality, her stubbornness, and her witty nature that made you believe she was out there to drive you off the wall.

Then, you actually got to know her.

She wasn’t as self-centered as you thought she was, and she certainly wasn’t as strong or as bitchy as she pretended to be. What you discovered behind those green eyes was someone vulnerable, someone reaching out to protect her children and to feel loved. Whatever scars she was carrying from her past were deep enough to make her vulnerable and strong and the same time.

You couldn’t help but remember the recent weekends you spent in her company; you never thought you would look forward to meeting with her or her children, to actually spend such special moments with her while fully aware of the growing tension between the both of you. It had been subtle at first, perhaps the tension carried by the fact you had been a bitch to her, and she was still slightly guarded around you. Then, you realized there was something else in there, you knew you were attracted to her that was the reason why you were so careful with your own delusions.

Yet, you couldn’t deny the recent looks she sent your way, or the lingering touches or the deepest of your conversations whenever you two were alone. You couldn’t help but long for these moments to be real, for those accidental touches and that timid smile to mean what your heart craved. That weekend, while America was trying to ease the pain on her back with the twins helping her around brought you closer to Wanda. In your mind, her green eyes lingered, her words, and the softness of her lips on your cheek moments before she left with the promise of coming back the next day. And the day after that, and the day after that one.

Your heart trembled, and your jaw clenched tightly at the overwhelming emotions running rampage inside you.

“You’re not paying attention to me. Again.” Maria huffed leaning back against her chair, the cold reproach in her voice broke you from your thoughts, you turned around smiling apologetically at Maria before settling yourself on your seat.

“Sorry, Maria, not my intention.” You laced your fingers together your eyes drifting to your mobile then back to Maria. “I just got a lot in my mind, what with the festival coming over next week and…”

“And Wanda.” Maria finished shaking her head. “Really, if I didn’t know better, I would say you two had a date tonight.”

“I wish.” You mumbled lowering your face to hide your blushing cheeks.

“You two still in the ‘we’re only friends’ phase?” Maria stated amusedly, she put her tablet on the table taking a closer look at you.

Maria Hill had been your father’s personal assistance, when he died, she took it upon herself to teach you the general workings of the company before presenting her resignation letter. She didn’t assume you would stay with her by your side, but it was obvious to you the woman was a valuable asset and a great friend you couldn’t let go. So Maria stayed and since then, she had always been the voice of reason around the company.

The older woman had seen you as of late, the moment Wanda Maximoff came into your life she had seen the changes from that fake annoyance in your voice whenever you mentioned her to the subtle affection in your tone as of late, Maria knew there was something there. You had changed so much; you were heard humming happily whenever you thought no one was looking. From time to time, a content smile would decorate your features, while your fingers tapped happily on any surface.

Whatever was happening with Wanda Maximoff certainly had a positive effect on you, and the other woman. Maria had heard Natasha talked about the other woman as well, how she was more relaxed as of late, how her smile was easy on her lips and she was always just waiting patiently to go into her phone and continue a conversation she had left unfinished with you. Natasha had seen Wanda grow while, at the same time, giving herself the chance to be herself without anyone dictating her life.

Now, if they both stopped being so stupid, everyone would be happier for them.

“We are friends, you know?” You rolled your eyes when Maria merely snorted.

“Right, but you want to be something more, don’t you?” Maria inquired, leaning forward.

You hesitated for a moment before shrugging in defeat, “I do but I think…I just don’t know how to approach this, Maria, she is just…confusing at times, you know?”

“No, not really, what do you mean?”

You contemplated the hard surface of your desk, your mind going through all the moments you had shared with Wanda so far. The mixed signals, as well as those conversations that had left you wondering if perhaps the woman was really looking for something else or she was just being nice. You really had been diving into an ocean of confusion that was finally catching up to your resistance and it was starting to drive your crazy.

“I just think…well, she has children, right? And a husband, right? I mean, she is not even divorced yet and well, nobody assures me she will get one any time soon. And perhaps I’m reading too much into her being nice.” You intertwined your hands rolling your eyes. “I feel like an idiot.”

Maria offered a comforting smile, she had never found herself so inclined to broke a promise she made to Natasha as she felt at that moment.

“You are overthinking, Y/N. You are not an idiot, but I do think you should have a serious conversation with Wanda.” Maria trailed off for a moment before continuing. “You have been dancing around this topic for far too long, why don’t take a chance? Why don’t just be honest?”

“What if I am wrong?” You asked softly, Maria smiled at you and the question that left her mouth next made you tremble with anticipation.

“What if you are not and you are actually loved?” Maria hesitated for a moment; she locked her eyes with you before continuing. “Don’t let this chance slip away from you, Y/N. Life is too short, and taking a leap of faith may lead to that happy ending you and her deserve.”

“Why do I have the feeling that you know something I don’t, Maria?” You retorted narrowing your eyes at Maria, the other woman shifted on the chair looking away from you.

“Talk to Wanda, Y/N. This is not my story to tell.”

“Everyone seems to know that story but me, why?”

Maria grimace shrugging, “not really my place, boss, now if you don’t mind me getting away from this conversation we could continue talking about your projects, and what we have been doing with Jarvis.”

You opened your mouth ready to protest but decided against it, Maria would not tell you what you wanted but mostly what you needed. And Maria was right about something, you needed to talk to Wanda and get the full story from her before making any rash decision. With a heavy heart, and a whirlpool of thoughts, you gave your full attention to the report and the situation with Jarvis.

________________________

When Wanda glanced at her reflection in the bathroom mirror she found herself looking into the eyes of a completely different woman.

A year ago, Wanda found herself scared to death while the cries of her children were muffled by the basement door. Vision had been furious after a party in which Billy, Tommy and Wanda had failed to make a good impression and had costed Vision a business deal with an important businessman. The twins had been locked the hole weekend, and Wanda…

Wanda shivered at the memory of the abuse she suffered that day.

But now, almost a year later, she was different.

She was no longer Wanda Jarvis, nor was she Wanda Frank.

She was Wanda Maximoff.

The only way she got to be closer to her mother, her brother, and her family.

Now that Wanda was looking at her reflection, she could see the longer hair and the green eyes gleaming with life. The traces of fear were no longer marking her features, and while letting go of her past was hard, she no longer feared her home, or loud noises, or the fact she was not on time with her house chores. And her children were free, they had grown so much in the last couple of months, the fear left them completely and instead of running from their neighbour, they were just excited to see them, to share time with them and have Wanda just as happy as them. 

No, the woman looking at her back was a woman that was discovering new things about herself. 

Wanda offered a tentative smile, her hand lifting up to the spot you had kissed that morning before saying goodbye. It was a foolishly gesture, something you had taken upon yourself to do whenever the both of you parted ways. The kiss was simple enough, but it lingered in Wanda's cheek with a burning fire Wanda was still uncertain to admit. 

She dropped her eyes, her phone unlocked and open in the conversation she was having with you. Since America had gotten into her little accident whatever time Wanda spent at home she either spent it at your place or hers. It had become a habit, preparing dinner and sharing some good conversation as well as watching some silly TV show in the company of the twins and America. 

And every morning, whenever you two crossed paths before going to your respective jobs, you would just approach Wanda wished her a good day and kiss her cheek. Wanda placed a hand on her face, her cheeks burning up and her lips curling slightly. She felt like a teen all over again, experimenting the tingling emotion of new discoveries, new relationships, new attractions. 

Attraction. 

Yes, because Wanda could no longer kid herself with what she was feeling, you had become an important part of her new life, and with you she had discovered something she thought buried a long time ago. She was attracted to you, she liked your smile and your silliness as much as she found exasperating your smugness and know it all nature. Wanda found herself thinking about you, waiting to see you, wanting to talk to you and that scared her in ways no many could comprehend. It wasn't only the fact that Wanda didn't think you would find her remotely interesting to consider anything at all with her, it wasn't only the fact that you were dating someone already. It was also the fear Wanda kept in her of getting lost in another relationship, of losing herself once more and not being able to be her. 

“You are thinking too hard, Wanda.”

Wanda jerked away from her reflection turning to see Natasha standing by the door of the bathroom. The older woman smiled at her, a single eyebrow lifted while her long legs carried her to the sink. 

“Are you alright?” Natasha inquired in the same sisterly tone she had taken to use with Wanda. 

“Yes, I am just… Nervous.” Wanda revealed, Natasha took that chance to teased her. 

“Nervous about our meeting with Y/N, or about the divorce papers?” Natasha gauged her reaction; Wanda opened her eyes wide hiding away her blush by bussing herself with her phone. 

“The… The divorce, of course.”

“Of course.” Natasha rolled her eyes but said nothing, she then put on a serious mask making sure Wanda understood the seriousness of what she was going to say.

“I know that this is a huge step, but you just have to sign them with the full custody of the twins papers and I will take care of everything else.” Natasha could see the tension building in Wanda, but this time around it came with a silent anger and determination she didn't feel months ago. 

Natasha was happy to see the progress, and if everything went fine the man would spend the rest of his life in jail. 

“I know, I already signed them, I just…” Wanda hesitated for a moment before speaking. “I really don't want to see him anymore, and this is going to be a long process that may come in the way…”

“You don't have to worry about that, Wanda. We have you covered and he would never know where you are hiding.”

Natasha could see there was something else bothering Wanda she waited putting a hand on Wanda’s forearm. Wanda lifted her eyes giving in and saying what was really tormenting her. 

“I haven't told Y/N the complete story, you know? What if… What if she finds out?” She sounded vulnerable, as if the mere idea of you knowing such a detail of her life really scared her. 

“Why haven't you told her?” Natasha asked but Wanda merely shrugged. 

“I just didn't want her to think less of me, I guess.” Wanda heard herself shaking her head and breaking into a bitter smile. “I just didn't want her to know how weak I am.”

“You know Y/N thinks the world of you, right?” Natasha balanced the knowledge she had of you and Wanda, of the growing relationship between the both of you before deciding she could push Wanda in the right direction. 

“She does?” Wanda looked surprised at this, Natasha nodded and continued. 

“You are a strong woman, Wanda. And Y/N can only see in you a strong woman, and someone she has come to really like.” 

There was a flicker of doubt shinning behind those green eyes, Wanda couldn't deny these words were somewhat comforting to her. But her doubt was rooted in the knowledge that you might had entertained the idea of liking her. Perhaps as something more than a friend.

“Don't think too much, Wanda,” this time around Natasha allowed the small contact with the young woman, her hand comforting on Wanda's shoulder, “let it flow, and let it be for the time being. You are doing fantastic so there is no rush.”

Wanda offered a tiny smile, she sighed following Natasha right outside the bathroom to the huddle room where you were waiting patiently for them to come in. 

Your face lit up at the sight of Wanda, and soon the both of you engaged in an animate conversation as if you had not seen one another in quite some time. Natasha observed from afar, she analysed your every gesture and your every word and soon she knew that all Wanda and you needed was time. 

Because everything else was already there. Two fools in love. 

_____________________

America had been out of commission for more than a week, she had tried to keep up with her physical therapy and her heart had been jumping in joy when Kate had joined in the different routines making sure America got them right. 

It had been a moment America had treasured greatly, Loki and Yelena had congratulated themselves for such a magnificent plan until Kamala chimed in to remind them Kate and America were technically still friends. 

This of course, didn't stop the pair who had everything planned out in the best way possible. Hence America nagging you with her plans for the day.

“So you're going to the movies?” You asked slightly confused by the comment. 

“Yes.” America nodded bouncing on her feet, she glanced at you then at her phone.

“I thought you were gonna babysit the twins while Wanda and I went to the school.” You made a gesture with your hand, trying to make sense of the request. 

“Yes, and I thought that we could see a movie with everyone else.” America leaned forward wiggling her eyebrows at you. “It will give you more time with Wanda, you know? And Billy and Tommy would be in good hands.”

You frowned looking away from your sister. 

“Have you told Wanda about this?”

America winced rolling her head, “Well, no. I haven't but… I have a card under my sleeve.”

You arched a brow at her, your chest filling with dread when you caught sight of her mischievous smile. 

“What did you do, America?”

“My dear sister, I know what you are experimenting and what you are going through.” America stated moving closer to you, her hands on your shoulders. “I have only cared for you to be happy, Y/N, and I can see Wanda makes you happy.”

Your body tensed completely, you tried to look away from America but whenever she stood her ground speaking at you with such a serious stare you knew there was nothing much you could do. America dropped her shoulders, her eyes hiding away the conflict inside her mind. 

“I don't want you to get hurt, you know?”

“I know.”

“If Wanda is someone you want then, the least I can do is to make sure you can be with her.” America offered a half smile, her hands squeezing your shoulders comfortingly. “But you need to do something already, this indecision would only create more confusion to you, to her and to the twins.”

“The twins?” You repeated blinking slowly. 

“Of course! They had noticed, you know?” America rolled her eyes at you. “They had noticed the changes in Professor Maximoff and in you, the amount of time we spent with one another, they may not understand but they know something is going on.”

You never stopped to consider that Wanda's children would be aware of what was happening. You didn't even consider the possibility, not because you thought they were fools, but because they were children. America opened her mouth to say something else but she stopped before anything came out of her mouth, while it was true that you shouldn't jump into any kind of relationship with a woman you didn't know too well, it was not her place to share her discoveries, Kate had explained to her that much. America stepped back, she knew what she had to do and that opportunity would present to her sooner rather than later, as soon as you and Wanda stopped dancing around one another. 

“So, you think…I mean, not that you are right but… You think there is a chance that anything may happen?” You asked casually, America snorted hugging you tightly. 

“You are an idiot.”

“Thank you, Lil sis, that's what I need to hear.”

America chuckled before going back to her initial request. 

“So, about the car…”

“Ugh, let's see first if Wanda agrees with this crazy plan then the car is all yours.” 

“Yes!” America punched you on the shoulder strolling down the hall calling her friends to share with them your approval. 

You snorted shaking your head, your eyes lifted to looked out of the window to the next-door house wondering what kind of conversation Wanda was having with her children. There was a moment of silence, your eyes fixated on the house next door until an idea formed in your mind; that Saturday would be the best chance you got to be with Wanda alone. It would be the chance to…

You sighed grabbing your phone and looking for the familiar name in your contact list. You chewed on your lower lip, if you didn’t take a leap of faith…you would never know, right?

“Hey, Ajak, how is it going?”

******

Just as America had told Y/N, the twins had noticed the changes in their lives.

It wasn’t that hard, the had spent most of their childhood afraid of the clock marking a specific time, or the door opening and closing, they had been afraid of the smell their dad usually brought with him when screaming and hitting at them. They had seen their mother cry, and they had seen and experimented the pain and the suffering the same way as Wanda did.

Then, one day, they just went inside a care and their mom took them down different roads, crying and confused until they reached anew house. It had taken some time, but Billy and Tommy had come to love their new home. They liked America who was always nice with them, she was always playing games with them or reading them stories or actually treating them like big boys. Tommy like Y/N first, while Billy just thought she was a silly woman.

Tommy disagreed with his brother, he had seen first hand how nice Y/N was and how good she was with medicine. Then, Tommy had seen how her mom smiled more often whenever Y/N was closed, and Billy had grumpily agreed with Tommy because Y/N seemed to be a constant figure in their lives.

And their mom liked Y/N.

Of that, the twins had not doubt.  And if their mom liked her, then they could like her as well, right?

The confusing part was to define what exactly meant for their mom to like Y/N; Balder had said that they wanted to kiss, but it was not possible because they were girls. Then, they started their own investigation when Balder told them that Nathaniel a boy in their class had two daddies, and then Balder talked about Val a friend of their dad that lived with another girl and they kissed one another.

It was confusing, but if their mom was happy then…well, then she needed to kiss Y/N.

It was either that, or their dad coming back. But they hated this idea, and they would prefer their mommy alone than back with their dad. Of that, their little minds were completely sure.

Now, the only thing they needed to do, according to Balder, was to make sure their mom knew they agreed to her and Y/N to kiss. It was only that, right?

Billy and Tommy glanced at one another; Tommy opened his eyes really big mouthing something to his brother. Billy scowled grabbing his glass of milk before speaking.

“Mommy, do you like Y/N?” Wanda was caught off of guard, the question made her choke on the coffee she had been drinking. Tommy gave his twin the thumbs up, but Billy was still scowling openly at his mom.

Wanda was coughing trying to recover ignoring that Tommy was swinging his legs in the air, his hand grabbing the spoon filled with cereal.

“I like Y/N! She is funny, and nice and she is… Warm.” Tommy scrunched up his nose, not really sure he had chosen the right words. 

“I…I…Warm?” Wanda stuttered.

“You are all red when she is here! Like when is hot in the house!” Tommy exclaimed as if that was enough explanation, Wanda winced trying to hide her mortified expression from the twins. 

“She makes mommy smile too.” Billy lifted his eyes to Wanda blinking innocently as he waited for an answer to his question. 

Wanda tried to take another sip from her coffee, her eyes glancing everywhere but at her children who were now focusing their attention on her. 

“Mommy?” Billy asked again, Wanda sighed placing her mug on the counter. 

“Yes, Billy, I like Y/N.” Wanda answered casually trying to quiet down the butterflies flying around her abdomen. 

“I like her too.” Billy nodded in agreement; Tommy grabbed another spoonful of cereal. “She is pretty.”

Wanda had to silently agreed with Billy, she softened her eyes slightly knowing her children really liked you a lot. It was one of the things that had made Wanda feel attracted to you. How easy you fit in with the twins, how you had earned their love and their friendship by being just plain silly with them. You and America had taught them how to be children again, how to let go of their fears of watching the clock every once in a while or trembling when the door opened and closed, or to let go of Wanda and run freely to have fun. 

“Mommy, do you have to go today?” Tommy asked softly, Wanda opened her eyes at the question, she had told them already that day they were needed it back at school to finish the decorations for the ball. 

“Yes, Tommy, but mommy won't take too long, and America is going to watch over you…”

“Can Y/N stay here too?” Billy asked and Wanda winced lightly at the request. 

“No, Billy, she will come with me to school.” 

Billy and Tommy glanced at one another; Wanda narrowed her eyes at the sudden spark of mischief that shone in their eyes. 

“Can we watch a movie?”

Wanda leaned forward waiting for the real request. 

“Yes, of course.” She answered tentatively. 

“Can America take us to the theatre to see a movie?” They both asked at the same time, Wanda opened her eyes leaning back as they grinned widely at her. 

Wanda hesitated before shaking her head. 

“To the cinema.” She clarified then, “you mean, to the mall?”

Billy and Tommy nodded eagerly, Wanda opened her mouth then closed it again, her mind going through the possibilities of her children going to the mall with America. Then, as she went to drink another sip from her coffee she almost choked again at Tommy's next words. 

“We promised we won't get mad if you and Y/N kiss each other, Mommy!”

“Tommy!” Billy exclaimed hitting his brother while Wanda tried to recover. 

“What?”

“Balder said you and Y/N want to kiss one another but that you need to be alone because that's what you do when you like someone.” Tommy said in one breath trying to get away from Billy who was trying to shut him up. “and you say you like Y/N!!”

“Tommy!! You ruined it!!” Billy scolded his brother crossing his arms and glaring at his twin. 

Tommy crossed his arms as well, red and slightly guilty at what he just said. Wanda placed a hand on her face, she was trying to collect her thoughts and had a serious conversation with her children when the doorbell sounded tearing her attention from the current situation to be door. 

“We will have a serious conversation about this, guys, but now stop glaring at one another and behave. I'm going to see who it is.”

Wanda was trying to regulate her heartbeat that actually skyrocketed when she opened the door to see you standing there. You were dressed rather casually, with a light jacket on and a scarf that helped out a little in the cold winter weather. Your grin showing off the dimples on your cheeks, with your eyes gleaming warmly at the woman standing in front of you. 

“Y/N!” Tommy was the first one to come running towards you, he wrapped his arms around you grinning while looking around until his eyes found America and he went right in to greet her as well. 

“Hope we didn't interrupt anything?” You asked after the silence stretched out for far too long. 

“Oh, no, no we were having breakfast.” Wanda stated not overly excited to tell you what she had been talking about with the twins. “Would you like to come on in? I was getting ready, but I thought we will go later today.”

Billy was standing to the side, his eyes narrowed and the small scowl he had been wearing before was back on his face. You hesitated before going over to him, your hand stretched out. 

“Good morning, Billy.” The boy glance at your hand, then at you and Tommy before taking your hand. 

“Hi.” He then stepped back and went to hug America who winced at the force the twins had greeted her with. 

Wanda winced but you merely chuckled, shrugging. 

“So I know we said later but… I have a proposal for you.” Your grin was infectious and soon Wanda found herself smiling back. 

America held back the twins, whispering with them while glancing at the adults every once in a while. 

“What proposal?”

“Well, you can have lunch with me.” You sounded more confident that what you really felt, your heart was threatening to leave your chest and your palms had gotten sweaty all of a sudden. “I mean, we could have lunch and then go to the school. America and her friends were thinking of doing something today and well, that includes taking Tommy and Billy to the movies… If you agree?”

Wanda soon found herself being cornered by her children, one teenager, and you all four looking at her with puppy eyes and pleadingly smiles. She gave in, it was hard not to do so even with the latent fear of having her children going outside with people that was not her, and perhaps risking their well-being by getting spotted by someone of their previous life. 

“We're not going to be alone, though.” America decided to intervene, she had the twins on each hand making sure she could show just how responsible she was. “Thor and Sif will come with us, Balder is also and we were actually going with them because they are planning Loki’s birthday party so… We won't be alone.”

“And, it's free lunch, so it's a win-win situation.” You completed it, Wanda knew her battle was lost the moment she found herself looking into your warm eyes smiling back at you with a hint of disbelief in her features. 

It was such a foolishly thing to fall for, she decided to ignore the warmth filling up her chest as well as the fluttering wings of butterflies in her lower abdomen. She felt her mind melting at the sight, and her cheeks coloured pink when you winked at her. 

“And mommy can kimphf.” Billy and America both grabbed Tommy silencing him before he could finish the sentence. 

You furrowed your brows, America was shaking her head while smiling apologetically at you. Tommy and Billy were arguing while Wanda had placed a hand on her face, slightly mortified and embarrassed. 

“So, what did I miss?”

“Nothing, just never mind, I think that's a good idea.” Wanda spoke quickly placing a hand on your forearm. “I was finishing something up, and then I guess you guys can go and…”

“And we can go too. Excellent, need any help?”

By the time midday arrived you were on the road with Wanda glancing at her watch and phone every chance she got. The car drive was silent, with not a single word shared between you just as you drove down streets Wanda had barely recognized. 

“They're gonna be fine, you know?” You finally said glancing at the woman beside you out of the corner of your eye. 

Wanda let out a snort, her eyes closing lightly before she leaned back on the seat. 

“I know.” She hesitated playing with the idea of telling you her real concern before dismissing the idea with a sigh. “I just… I have never let them go out without me, you know?”

You pursed your lips before speaking, “if you want we can join them, I can take the exit down there and we will be there in twenty minutes.”

Wanda turned sharply at you, her eyes opened and her brows lifted. 

“Really? You… You would do that?”

“It is obvious you are not comfortable, Wands, and that you want to be there with them.” You explained softening lightly, your hand sneaking around to grab hers in yours. “If it is important to you, then it is important to me.”

Wanda swallowed down her emotions, her hand squeezing yours. She played with the idea of accepting your proposal, she had this bad feeling with her children but she was also conscious this was due to her paranoid mind. She glanced at her hand and yours, before shaking her head. 

“I just think I need time, that’s all. We don't have to go over there.” Wanda felt her hand twitched before she let it rest against yours. “We haven't been this far from one another in a while, and well…”

Wanda trailed off she was not ready to share with you her tumultuous past. Or the story of her abusive husband. She was happy with the knowledge you had only seen the new Wanda, her new family and no what she was. 

“I can't even imagine what would be when they are dating.”

You chuckled, a content smile playing on your lips while you drove with a single hand. 

“I don't think it would be that terrible, you know?” Your eyes wandered around the mirror to take a look at Wanda. “Are you afraid they would bring a girl or a boy home?”

Wanda found herself shocked by the question, she looked out of the car thinking over before speaking her thumb caressing the palm of your hand absentmindedly. 

“I'm afraid they will bring a bad person home. I just want them to be happy with the right one.”

You could tell there was more to that story, but your attention was soon grabbed by your mobile announcing the proximity of the restaurant you had been looking for. Wanda leaned forward finding Olympia in all her glory standing proudly in the midst of powerful decorations of ancient times. 

“Today we're going to try a different setting, if you don't mind?”

Wanda tilted her head curious, she then smiled at you. 

“Not at all, free food, right?”

You chuckled parking the car while tilting your head to the side, “free food.”

The place was still packed, and this time around Wanda didn’t feel the pressure of being around so many people as she felt it before. There were families and group of friends all around the restaurant, the noise increased as they stepped further inside the building. You had said no word to Wanda yet, but to ensure she was never too far behind you grabbed her hand in yours leading her through the tables and the people until you found yourself at the back of the building.

Ajak was waiting for you there.

The older woman had the same smile she wore last time, in her eyes Wanda could recognize the traces of intelligence mixed up with the knowledge of unknown secrets. She was standing by a glass door, inside Wanda could see a world filled with colours, and she couldn’t help but stepped forward her curiosity sparked by the beautiful sight in front of her.

Your eyes followed Wanda around, there was no doubt in your mind that seeing the smile on her face and the innocent excitement in her expression was enough for you to be happy as well. Ajak snorted knowingly stepping aside while showing the doorknob decorated with golden holding the glass door closed.

“I hope traffic was not too bad, Y/N.” Ajak spoke her eyes going from Wanda to you.

“Not at all, Ajak, how is business so far?”

“You know, this is the best season for me.” Ajak shrugged this time around turning to Wanda. “And, Wanda, I hope your children are doing okay?”

Wanda was slightly taken aback; she offered a tentative smile nodding.

“They are, thank you.”

Ajak offered a tilt of her head before placing her hand on the doorknob, there was a strange tension in the air and Wanda had just noticed this section of the restaurant was not that busy. She looked around the place before her eyes settled in you, you shifted with some hesitation before stepping forward.

“Well, as always, I’m glad to make my customers happy, so I hope you liked what we did here.” Ajak opened the door stepping aside, her eyes following you and Wanda inside the glassed domo.

The theme chosen to decorate this place had been nature.

Wanda gasped the cold of the day forgotten as a warmth breeze caressed her skin, the sweet aroma of flowers and nature filled her nostrils while her eyes were enchanted by the sight of colourful flowers and multiple plants that create a path stretching out deeper inside the dome. Wanda had forgotten all about you, she just stepped inside touching the leaves of the closets tree finding this was actually a real tree and not some artificial creation. She walked down the road, her eyes gleaming excitedly taking notice of the sunflowers and the roses, she even got sight of orchids and some palms.

“You really know how to woo a girl, don’t you?” Ajak whispered beside you, you almost jerked away forgetting all about the older woman.

When you turned to face her, Ajak was already smiling knowingly at you. There was no use in denying what was happening or what you were trying to accomplish, you shrugged lightly lowering your face before speaking.

“Do you think…she likes it?” You finally asked, Ajak placed a hand on your forearm shaking her head.

“I think she loves it, and I think you are in deep trouble.” Ajak didn’t let you defend yourself, she merely nodded towards the greenhouse placing a gadget on your hand. “Everything is ready over there, Thena was already warned so you just had to press the button and they will bring everything, okay?”

“Thank you, Ajak, I really owed you one.”

Wanda was already walking down the artificial road by the time you caught up with her.

The young woman turned to you, and the sheer happiness she was wearing at the moment was something you realized you were not familiar with. Something inside you stirred with affection, your own expressions softening while it was quite evident you could not look away from her.

“This is amazing, Y/N, how did you find out about this place?” Wanda asked never losing her smile.

“Well, Olympia is really famous for being a themed restaurant and having the best food in the country.” You replied standing closer to Wanda. “And this place, is a new environment she was trying to get tested, so…I thought, why not?”

Wanda offered a tentative smile, looking away while trying to understand why she was feeling disappointed. You opened your mouth to say something else, but decided against it, your hand twitched at your side until you made up your mind and soon you were grabbing Wanda’s hand in yours.

“I hope you like it, I just thought of you when they offered me to try out this place.” You waited until those green eyes turned to you, this time around Wanda broke all pretences and there was a glint of vulnerability in her stare.

“Really? Why did you think about me?” Wanda could tell her question made you nervous, you avoid her eyes while stepping back bringing her over with you walking slowly down the road.

“I can’t seem to stop thinking about you, Wanda.” The sheer honesty behind your words made the other woman hesitated, you didn’t dare to look at Wanda and instead of that you turned around your voice being carried by the echo in the greenhouse.

“I couldn’t help but think you may really like this place, and perhaps that I could make you smile.” Then you tilted your head back, and the smile that showed on your face was one filled with doubts and longing. “I hope I am not overstepping or that you I mean, I just I’m not sure if…”

“This is perfect, thank you for the gesture.” Wanda didn’t let go of your hand, but her body language turned confusing for you it was as if Wanda was fighting with herself, she had stepped closer to you yet her eyes turned into stormy whirlpools of green.

There was an obvious tension around you two, and you knew if you were to lean in you would be able to discover the taste of her lips. Wanda was standing there, her eyes travelling around your face falling always on your lips before she returned to your eyes; she wished she was stronger, that she probably was more daring to end with her confusion and her curiosity but…what if you didn’t want to? What if you rejected her? What if Wanda was reading the situation incorrectly?

She could lose everything, and what she had found with you was something she didn’t want to let go off anytime soon.

“Can you show me around?” Wanda finally whispered; your stomach dropped in disappointment but you didn’t give up. Instead, you just put on a smile leading Wanda around while telling her the story of Olympia.

The greenhouse had been built right outside the main building, it was erected with tempered glass that gave the place the right environment to keep most the plants and flowers alive. The road had been made with wooden planks that twisted and turned around the place giving the visitors a nice view of the flora growing inside the dome. The main dining area was actually at the very centred, in which a pond rested filled with water flowers and a huge Oak tree. The dining sets were all made of bamboo, simple yet fashionable and comfortable; Wanda was beyond herself surrounded by such beauty.

It wasn't only the sight of the trees, or the flowers, not even the warm climate or the pond that was giving up the impression of a multicoloured source of water.

“This is amazing.” Wanda said breathily, she walked towards the only table that had been set up, her heart fluttering in her chest. What was the meaning of all of this?

By the time Wanda turned to you, it was easy to read the questions and the confusion inside her eyes. You wished there was an easy explanation for what you had done, for what you had planned in less than an hour that very morning. But the truth was, you couldn't. Whatever explanations you might have gone out of the window when she faced you with such a gleeful expression.

“I'm glad you like it, we are the very first ones to try this place out so…” You walked past her putting the chair out, your hand showing off the empty chair. “Madam, if you might…”

Wanda dipped her head hiding away the flush on her cheeks, with a hesitant step she went to the offer chair sitting down. 

“How did you do it?” Wanda asked, waving her hand at you as you sat in front of her. “How did you get a table in this place?”

“Oh, Ajak was a friend of my parents, my father even provided some investment to her business.” You shrugged. “She has always been kind to us, and she always has a table for my family.”

“But this is a new environment.” Wanda could see your shifting on the chair, your eyes looking everywhere but at her.

“Yeah, Ajak was needing some testers, and I thought we could be those testers.” You tried to sound casual, fixing the napkin on the table before lifting your eyes offering a half smile. “She is supposed to open this formally by the end of the year.”

Wanda placed her elbows on the table, her eyes dancing around the place before she set them on you firmly.

“Well, this is nice, thank you again.”

“I think your smile is thank you enough, Wands, you really should try smiling more often.” You replied before you could stop yourself, Wanda’s smile grew just a little with her cheeks colouring pink.

“I…” Wanda bit her lower lip ready to ask something when the sound of footsteps called her attention.

Your eyes lit up, and as soon as the owner of those footsteps show up you stood up and met the older woman halfway. Wanda shifted uncomfortably on the chair, her stomach twisted unpleasantly while her hand grabbed the closest napkin tightly; Wanda rolled her eyes turning around to fixed her attention in something else when the older woman leaned in to place a kiss on your cheek.

“You look just as beautiful as I remember, Y/N.” Thena leaned in, her clear eyes falling on Wanda that had her back to you two. The older woman raised a single elegant eyebrow, her attention coming back to you.

“And you, my dear Thena, are as flirty and as mischievous as I remember.” You shared a smile; the older woman placed a hand on your shoulder before stepping forward to go over to Wanda.

“And you must be, Mrs. Maximoff, am I right?” Then stretched out her hand to Wanda who looked like a deer caught in the headlights, she put her chair back her hand trembling as she grabbed Thena blinking away her confusion.

“I…yeah, yeah, you are…”

“The chef.” Thena lifted a single hand and soon two waitresses came right in. “As a courtesy, I would like to offer you a simple appetiser with drinks, you will have a chance to look at the menu and as soon as you decided you can go ahead and call for us.”

“Thank you, Thena.” You sat down looking excitedly at the table, wiggling your fingers as everyone set up the table.

“Don’t even mention it, I am always more than happy to attend to you and any of your women when you come here. Please, enjoy.”

You opened your eyes wide at those words, you opened your mouth to protest but Thena left as fast as she had come. Wanda frowned lightly, waiting for the rest of the people to leave before she set her eyes on the menu in front of her.

“So, you bring many women here? Is that it?” She asked coldly, you gulped shaking your head.

“No! I don’t…” You sighed rolling your eyes before closing them. “I haven’t brought anyone here since Shuri.”

Wanda made a face, a mixture of disbelief and curiosity that didn’t went amiss by you. You fixed on your chair, selecting your favourite dish from the menu before speaking again.

“We were together since high school, you know? I thought we would be forever, it was strange mainly because of our backgrounds.” You leaned forward making explanations that Wanda was not asking for but you had the need to share.

“When did…” Wanda trailed off, hesitating for a moment until your hand found hers on the table.

“What is it?”

“You may think I’m a fool.” She mumbled looking away from you, you chuckled brushing your thumb on the back of her hand.

“Come on! Nothing you said may make me think that, what is it?”

Wanda glanced at your joined hands, her heart skipping a beat feeling the overwhelming emotions drowning her senses. Whatever was happening at the moment, whatever had pushed you to invite her over for lunch that day and to spend the day alone with her, Wanda was still afraid of crossing over that thin line that had been drawn between the both of you in the last couple of weeks. But being here with you, enjoying the soft music playing in the air, and the beautiful place you had brought her to, Wanda could feel her resolution crumbling the moment you offered that tiny smile and those gleaming eyes.

“When did you realize you like women?” Wanda asked in a thin voice, almost shyly waiting for you to laugh or make fun of her question.

The question caught you by surprised, it didn’t make you laugh but it ignited some hopeful flame inside you. You shifted slightly, leaning to the side while never letting for of the hand you were holding.

“I mean, you don’t have to answer, is just, I was curious, I have never I mean…”

Wanda tried to let go of you, but you were faster than her, and her breath caught in her throat when you intertwined your hand with hers giving her a comforting squeeze. You relaxed into the chair, making sure that the other woman was as comfortable as she could be while you started sharing your story.

“Well, actually, it was quite funny, you know?” The world soon disappeared and in the midst of the greenhouse, near a pond and nature, you started sharing a part of you that not many had worried to ask before.

And, as you words filled Wanda with images of your memories, she herself felt a tug in her heart wanting nothing more than to know more about you, to know more about your process…to perhaps get to see if she was just as brave as you had been when you realized you like women.

______________

The mall was packed.

It seemed as if everyone had decided to go out on that very day to make any shopping and go to the movies. Billy and Tommy were excited to just go outside with America and her friends, they had learnt the hard way to never get too far from the grown ups and as memory goes, they didn’t remember the lats time they were allowed outside in such a place without the watchful eye of their father on them.

As soon as they arrived at the mall, Balder and Loki joined them with Thor and Sif trying to set up some ground rules from the teen and child they were chaperoning for the day. Minutes later, America and Loki had been joined by Kate, Yelena, Kamala and Peter all of them ready to go to the movies before going for something to eat.

“You are a grown man, Loki, so I expect you to be in your best behaviour.”

“Yes, brother, I will be.” Loki rolled his eyes when Thor placed a hand on his shoulder trying to make the same gestures Odin used on him.

“Sif and I will start the shopping list, and we will be around if you need us,” this time around Thor redirected his attention to the rest of the group, “don’t get th youngest out of your sight, and if anything happens…”

“We will scream and ask for help, we know, Thor stop it!”

Thor opened his mouth, but stopped himself when Sif came in, this time around Loki gulped dropping his shoulders and submitting right away.

“We are just concern, Loki, and since you have three young boys under your care we want to make sure everything goes well.”

“We know, Sif, don’t worry, we have your phones and we won’t leave them alone.” Loki grumbled crossing his arms, Sif smile nodding and stepping away.

“Then we will see each other in the food court at 3pm, don’t be late.”

“No, ma’am.”

America held back her laughter when Yelena made a whop sound at Loki’s words, the young man glared at her while Kamala and Peter snickered. Kate held Billy’s hand in hers, she and America glanced at one another and decided to start walking down the hall towards the cinema. Tommy was holding onto America, his eyes huge glancing around the place quite excitedly, squeezing America’s hand while pointing around to the stores.

“America! Look! Look! Did you see that?” Tommy squealed dragging America to a toy store, America chuckled following him with a smile in place.

“Yeah, Tommy, this is one of the biggest toy stores in here, if you want we can go in after the movie.”

Tommy turned to her wide eye, his mouth hanging open.

“Really?”

America almost winced, it was as if Tommy really was completely shocked to be on a place like the shopping centre and more so that he would be allowed to go into a toy store. Kate stood by her side, Billy was standing by her but his eyes were just as wide as those of her brother’s.

“Yeah, kiddo, really.”

America felt a hand on her lower back, she turned to see Kate smiling at her reassuringly, and the young woman returned the smile leaning into the touch. Billy lifted his eyes curious at the interaction, with Tommy blinking with curiosity before grabbing Kate’s hand. The young brunette lowered her stare and her heart almost exited her chest when Tommy joined her hand with that of America, the both of them blushing just as Tommy and Billy each one of them stood by the corners with America and Kate standing closed to one another.

“You know? Those two are far more subtle than you two.” Kamala stated to Loki who had just giving Peter the task to take care of Balder.

“So it seems.” Loki smirked, turning to Yelena and Kamala before speaking loudly, “did you see Chavez and Bishop blush like a pair of schoolgirls with a crush?”

“Shut up, Loki!” America and Kate exclaimed at the same time.

Tommy and Billy had taken it upon themselves to make sure Kate and America were as closed as they could be without crossing the line between friendship and something else.

By the time the movie had started they both sat closed to one another, with billy sitting at America’s right and Tommy sitting at Kate’s left side. America accommodated herself on the seat, her eyes would seek Kate every once in a while finding the other teen smiling at her while also engaging Tommy in small conversation.

“I think this is a good idea.” Kate whispered in America’s ear, the young woman shivered turning to see Kate’s face was dangerously close to hers.

“Wh-what?” America winced at her stutter, Kate merely rolled her eyes leaning closer resting her head on America’s shoulder.

“I think this is a good idea, Tommy and Billy are really enjoying the movie. And I bet your sister is having a good time as well.”

“Oh, yeah, I think so to. But this is thanks to you, Kate.” America hesitated before placing a single kiss on her friend’s forehead.

Kate smiled contentedly, “I guess we really are good together.”

America’s breath caught in her throat, she dared to grabbed Kate’s hands in hers knowing Kate could hear the hammering of her heart at the moment.

“I guess…I guess we do.”

Kate smirked into the movie, she knew it would be just a matter of time, she really hoped so because she was tired of playing the game of mouse and cat with America. Without anything else to say, they spent the rest of the movie holding hands ignoring the knowing glances their friends were sending their way.

By the time they exited the movie, it was almost three in the afternoon.

The movie had been silly, and they found themselves laughing and having a good time shooting cautious glances at one another all through the movie, leaning closer to one another until it was quite obvious tension had been building amongst them. The group had decided to move onto the food court while Loki tried to contact Thor and Sif.

America winced seeing the place completely packed, it seemed as if every single person in the city decided to go that day to the shopping centre.

“There are too many people.” Kamala made a face standing on the tip of her feet trying to look around.

“Ugh, I’m hungry, we should have eaten before going to the movie.” Peter tilted his head grabbing his stomach. “Come, Kam, let’s see if there is anything at the back.”

“Be right back, guys.”

America watched as Peter and Kamala left, and Yelena and Loki made a quick exploration of the different food stalls. Kate observed as Tommy rubbed his eyes, he yawned turning to America and tugging on her sleeve.

“Are you okay, Tommy?” America knelt, tilting her head.

“I’m sleepy.” Tommy yawned again wrapping his arms around America’s neck, the young woman melted picking him up in her arms.

Kate came around with Billy who was still quite active shooting his brother curious glances.

“Is everything alright?” Kate turned to the food court rolling her eyes when she spotted the rest of the group still struggling to get a table.

“Yeah, Tommy is tired, and I think we won’t find any place to sit.” America made a face with Kate wincing as well.

“I think you’re right.” Kate then perked up her eyes growing wide. “Oh, what if we grab the food and go back to your place? Tommy and Billy really looked tired and well…”

“Can we?” Billy mumbled as well, “I’m tired too.”

America shrugged fixing tommy in her arms, Kate melted lightly at the overprotective nature of America with these kids that had ended up becoming like little brothers to her. Kate hesitated for a moment before stepping closer to get Tommy in her arms, America furrowed her brows but the young woman merely shook her head.

“Your back is not completely healed yet, and you look as if you need a hand.” Kate blushed lightly when her hand brushed against America’s. “Besides, you’re the only one that can get them to behave.”

“Thank you, Kate.” America made sure Tommy was comfortable, she leaned closer until her eyes met those of Kate. For a brief moment the both of them looked at one another, like this America could see the soft pink colour in Kate’s cheeks.

Then, as if she just thought about that, America leaned in placing a kiss on Kate’s cheek.

“I’ll be right back then. Billy you take care of them.”

“Yes!”

America winked at Kate turning around to get Loki and the others. Billy shot a curious glance to Kate who was smiling like a fool, her cheeks completely red by now. Tommy stirred in the young woman’s arms, his eyes going wide when he spotted a woman right at the other end of a store. He shivered trying to hide his face while holding tightly onto a very distracted Kate.

Billy stood right beside Kate, talking once more about his favourite cartoon before Balder and the others joined Kate.

No one of them, not even Thor and Sif once they caught up with the group, realized they were being watched. None of them noticed the older woman stepping out of the store with her phone on her hand, her eyes going wide and a frown adorning her features as she went through her contacts to dial a familiar number.

“Vision dear, I hope you’re doing okay.” Agatha Harkness smiled into the phone, her eyes losing sight of the twins but she had already seen enough. “I’m good thank you, I was visiting my sister here in the city when, you won’t believe who I just saw, dear. Your children are here, Tommy and Billy. No, Wanda is not with them. Of course, let me tell you everything.”

The lights in your house and Wanda’s were out.

You parked the car right outside Wanda’s garage, the other woman had fallen asleep along the way knowing her children had gotten home earlier than expected and were just sleeping happily in your home. Snow had started falling by the time you two made it back, the school organization had taken most of the afternoon and the evening, but everything had been left ready for the kids to have a nice festival during the week, and the seniors to have a good dance on Friday.

You turned to Wanda, the young woman was facing you with her right arm around her abdomen and her mouth slightly open. You chuckled leaning in to see if she had started drooling yet, but seemed as if she was just in the early stages of sleep.

That day had been magical.

Wanda had been opened as well, she told you about her childhood back in Sokovia, she was happy telling you about her brother and her mother and how they had learnt English through old sitcoms while their father found a way to move permanently to the States. You had told Wanda about your first time facing your sexuality, and how you went through a lot of dates before finding Shuri. You told her about the tumultuous past with that relationship, the break-ups and the reconciliation, the lack of character on your part to end something that was going nowhere.

Then, everything turned into funny stories of failed mischief.

And her laughter had filled the auditorium while you supervised the set-up of the ice skat rink, and they set-up the music and the platform for the main event.  Your heart crushed under the overwhelming affection you felt for the woman sitting beside you, there was a hole in your abdomen filled with butterflies and uncertainty of what exactly you should do. Should you lean in and kiss her? Should just keep sending her messages about how much you like her?

You sighed turning to the house, then back to the woman that was still fast asleep. You wished you were braver than this, that you would just cross the line without the latent fear of losing everything if you were to finally close the distance between the both of you.

“I’m an idiot.” You mumbled before turning around and placing a single hand on Wanda’s cheek. “Hey, Wands, we’re here.”

Wanda stirred leaning into your touch with a single smile decorating her lips, she let her eyelids fluttered for a moment before letting out a yawn she tried to cover with her hand. You chuckled tugging a strand of hair behind her ear, your eyes softening lightly finding her green ones staring at you.

“We’re here already?”

“Yeah, just on time, is starting to snow.”

Wanda stretched out blinking away her sleepy state, she glanced out of the window grinning at the sight of snow falling right outside her window.  

“I love this season, you know? It reminds me of home and Pietro.” Wanda leaned back on the seat, wiggling her hands together before turning to you wrapping her arms around you, her mouth close to your ear. “Thank you, today was amazing, Y/N.”

“I’m glad you like it, Wands.” You smiled into the embrace, your hand drawing soothing circles in Wanda’s lower back. “I imagine you could use some grown up time, and I just…I want to see you smile.”

“Why?” Wanda leaned back, but not enough for you to not feel her warm breath on your face.

“You have a beautiful smile, Wands. I think you already know that.” You replied letting your fingertips played with some locks of her hair. “I thought it was pretty obvious how smitten I am for that smile.”

You knew that day you had been playing with fire, and while you had taken a leap of faith, Wanda was still as confused as ever. The young woman didn’t move from her position, and you almost choked yourself with your spit when she leaned over to place a single kiss on your cheek.

“You are not the only one smitten, Y/N, I also like it when you smile.” Then she leaned back and turned to your house. “I think we better go inside, it’s getting cold already.”

Without any more words, the both of you exited the car strolling down the entrance leading to your house; all the lights inside were off but you could see a silver one coming from the basement.

You made your way to the door with Wanda following you closed behind, by the time the both of you got to the bottom of the stairs you had to snort in disbelief at the scene.

“Seems like your house was the center of a sleep over.” Wanda wrapped her arms around herself, her lips curling into a soft smile that you shared with her.

“Looks that way, I guess we should let them, right?”

Tommy and Billy had arranged themselves at each side of Kate and America that were sharing the same space, Loki and Yelena were snuggling closer to one another, while Kamala and Peter were sprawled on the corner. There was a movie playing on the TV, but you decided to just leave it there. Everyone was fast asleep, and you could only guess the day for them had been just as tiresome as it had been for you.

“I think we better leave them be.” Wanda grabbed your hand tugging you to her and going upstairs, your heart skipped a beat at the gesture and soon you and Wanda were closing the door of the basement and moving to the kitchen.

“I guess I should get going, I mean…”

“You can stay, you know?”

There were no lights at home, and Wanda was still holding your hand in hers. The younger woman didn’t dare to look you in the eye, and you knew that if she did you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself. Wanda gulped chewing on her lower lip, you stepped closer shivering under the stare of the other woman.

“I shouldn’t.”

“Why?”

Wanda sighed but did not make any attempt to step back, “you know why.”

You tilted your head, your face falling and your eyes showing your shattered heart.

“I really don’t understand it.” You replied furrowing your brows. “I thought…”

Wanda shook her head, this time around she let go of your hand and her hands cupped your face. She was trembling, much like you were at the moment, and as you locked eyes with her you could see the struggle she was living. The tears in her eyes, the storm going on inside her head.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N, and being near you fills me with unbelievable happiness and I am scared.” Wanda fluttered her eyes close, and you could see a single tear rolling down her cheek. “there are things you don’t know and I wish…I want to tell you, but I just…”

“You need time.” You stated brushing tenderly the tears, Wanda nodded and her lower lip quivered waiting for an answer.

You nodded allowing your arms to sneak around Wanda’s waist pulling her closer to you until you were hugging her comfortingly in your arms. Wanda let out a sob and buried her face on your neck allowing the gesture while her hole body tingled with anticipation.

“So, this means…I didn’t read wrong any of this?” You mumbled softly, “I am known for reading incorrectly into many situations, and I don’t…”

“You didn’t. But I’m not…I just…” Wanda hid herself in the crook of your neck. 

“Cool, that’s okay. Don’t worry, I can wait.” You took a deep breath wondering at what moment this outing became such a deep revelation. Having Wanda in your arms felt like heaven, and you really wished you didn’t need to let got.

“You can stay still, you know? I have a guest room and if you…agree to stay with me I will behave.”

This last part made Wanda giggled, she stepped back with her cheeks turned completely red.

“What if I tell you I may not behave myself?” She asked with a glint of mischief in her eyes, you opened and closed your mouth scratching the back of your head feeling the heat rush to your core.

“I would say, follow your heart?”

Wanda laughed leaning in to place a single kiss at the corner of your lips, you closed your eyes only to open them and find her looking at you.

“I think the guest room is okay.”

“Good, then…let’s go.”

That night as you rested on your bed, your eyes fixated on the ceiling you couldn’t stop thinking about the woman sleeping in the other room. Your heart swelled with affection, your mind replaying all that happened that day and how close you felt to Wanda. That day you had crossed one line, and if what Wanda needed it was time, you could give it to her without any issue; you had come to realize she was worth it of the wait. With a single smile on your face, you turned around and fall asleep. Tomorrow would be another day.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Next Chapter: The Yule Ball is here! There is a Winter Festval everyone is enjoying and Wanda finally learns the meaning of family. Reader is determine to win her over, and Wanda is finally done waiting. There is a kiss, and some tragedy waiting to happen.

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 10

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 |-| Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19

AO3

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 3.5k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58

The room was silent, nothing but the sound of calm, steady breathing piercing the air, a single beam of sunlight stretching through a gap in the curtains, snaking across the bedsheets in a thin, golden ribbon. Frankie was sat up, hunched forward slightly, picking at a frayed edge of the blanket as she stared blankly down at the foot of the bed. Laid back against the pillows, Rosie watched her intently, his thumb rubbing slow, gentle circles against the skin of her back, poking up beneath the hem of her shirt.

The second floor of the village pub consisted entirely of various bedrooms, a makeshift bed and breakfast, intended to make money out of the encroaching military population. With the Nissen huts so strictly segregated, the place had become a popular haunt for anyone hoping for a little 'alone time'. They came often. He liked to sleep beside her the night before a mission - to hold her close for what could always be the last time, to sit and talk somewhere entirely alone. Rosie did his best to avoid thinking about what else might have taken place in this bed - for now, it was simply their refuge.

Twenty-five missions. It was an impressive credential, a staggering achievement considering the almost impossible odds every pilot faced when he took off each day. And with it came the ultimate prize - a ticket home. Any man among them would give a limb for the chance - to never have to go up again, to truly live a life back home with their family.

It felt almost criminal not to want it.

But how could he? How could he burn for home the way the others did, when she wouldn't be there? When twenty-five missions meant being an ocean apart from the woman next to him, twenty-five missions was a death sentence.

"I want you to do it," Frankie croaked, her voice strained and quiet. His palm flattened against her back, and with a sigh she lay back, hair fanning out against the pillow.

"What do you mean?" He asked, brow furrowed.

Her head lolled to the side, meeting his gaze. "When you make twenty-five. I want you to go home."

"... What?" Rosie swore he felt his stomach sink, nausea bubbling in his chest as it burrowed deep into his gut.

Frankie shrugged, the sheets rustling with the movement. "You deserve to see your family, Rosie. You deserve not to live in a place that smells like oil and shit, especially after everything you've done."

A deep frown tugged at his expression as he shifted, propping himself up on an elbow to get a better look at her face. There was nothing in her eyes but utter, uncompromising sincerity. "W-..." He paused a moment, waiting for his mind to stop racing long enough to form a sentence. "What about you?"

She smiled, lifting a hand to cup his cheek, and he couldn't help but lean into it, revelling in the feeling of warmth. "I'll catch you up when I'm done."

Rosie let out a huff of almost-laughter, flashing a disbelieving grin as he fought to fathom what she was saying. "Are you serious?"

A self-satisfied smirk had wormed its way across her face. "Why not?"

"You'd seriously come to America for me?"

"Well, I have always wanted to see the Statue of Liberty," Frankie teased, cutting herself off with a laugh as he fell forward, lips hastily colliding with hers, one hand finding her waist, the other clasping the back of her neck. Her arms snaked around his neck the way they always did, holding his head in place as she reciprocated the kiss, smiling against his lips.

He'd wanted to marry her then. It wasn't the first time the thought had occurred to him, nowhere near in fact, but he wasn't sure it had ever felt so strong. If he asked he knew she'd say no - she'd say they needed more time, that they needed to wait until this was all over. He understood. If something went wrong, if he didn't come back, he didn't want her to carry his name like a badge of un-belonging for the rest of her life. If he could give her anything in death, he wanted it to be a clean break.

The kiss ended, and she was beaming at him, combing a hand through his ungelled curls as he pressed his forehead against hers. She would have given anything to just stay there, tucked beneath the blankets, feeling his breath against her cheek. Every time he climbed into that cockpit, his plane disappearing into the clouds over the horizon, it was like she was preparing for his death already, readying her mind for the news if he ever didn't make it home. Each return was a momentary relief, but it never lasted long. This was the last hurdle, the last bridge to cross before he was home safe, and she could put that constant, nagging fear aside.

A hurried knock came hammering against the door, and a groan escaped Rosie's throat burying his face in the crook of her neck, the weight of his body preventing Frankie from being able to move. She let out a grunt, shoving at his shoulders. "Get up!" She chuckled, and he reluctantly rolled over, pushing himself up off the bed with a huff.

The floorboards creaked beneath his feet as he padded over to the door, prying it open only a few inches, his shoulders blocking the gap in the doorway and shielding Frankie from the view of whoever was outside. Pappy was already in uniform, foot tapping irritably against the floor as he answered. "Just checking, you do actually plan to fly your twenty-fifth, right?" He asked sarcastically.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be there in a minute, just lemme get dressed," Rosie nodded, waving a hand of dismissal. Pappy didn't move, clearly waiting for him, and he began to frown as Rosie didn't move out of the doorway.

"Mornin', Frankie!" He called over Rosie's shoulder into the room behind him.

"Hey, Pappy!" Her voice rang out in return, and Rosie sighed, ignoring his friend's smirk as he closed the door on him.

"Y'know, it definitely would've looked weirder if you were just up here on your own," Frankie pointed out as Rosie began hurrying to grab his uniform and put it on. "That'd raise some questions."

It was later in the day than he'd thought, and he almost tugged his trousers on backwards in an attempt to get dressed as fast as possible, stuffing all of his belongings blindly into a bag as he raced to make his mission. Frankie was only half ready by the time he was done, and he pulled her attention away from the tying of her boot by capturing her lips in a quick goodbye kiss.

"Alright, I gotta go. I love you, I'll see you later."

His hand was already on the doorknob by the time he realised it. Turning his head, she was staring back at him. He'd never said those words before. In a million different ways he had made it abundantly clear that it was true, but this was the first time he'd truly looked her in the eye and said it.

"Yeah?" Frankie grinned.

"Oh, you have no idea," Rosie beamed, slipping out into the hall. Pappy was still waiting, a confused look contorting his expression as he noticed the red flush that filled his face. Making a beeline for the stairs, his copilot was close behind, the question lingering on the tip of his tongue.

"Are you... ok?"

Rosie reached the bottom of the stairs, turning back to look up at him, slightly out of breath. "Told my girl I love her. First time."

"Oh! Congrats?"

"Thanks, Pap," He nodded, clapping him on the shoulder, unable to tear away his grin.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It had been over an hour since the planes departed, and George and Frankie were sitting in the field that ran alongside the airstrip, propped up on their elbows as they lounged in the grass, sharing a bag of peanuts between them. The sun hung high and bright that day, and sunglasses rested on the bridges of their noses despite the slight chill in the air.

"So he told you he loved you," George nodded. "But you guys have been a thing for a while now, was that seriously the first time?"

"Nah. First time he'll remember, though - he says it a lot when he's drunk, but he's shy when he's sober."

She chuckled, red lips curling up in a smile. "Yunno, I always thought that guy was a bit of a weirdo, but you make me like him."

Frankie laughed, shaking her head. "God, you're a terrible person."

George gasped, head lolling to the side to look over at her friend. "Speaking of - you know Brenda? Red Cross Brenda? Well, apparently she-"

Before she got the chance to finish her sentence, Ken came bounding up, grinning like a lost puppy returned to its owner. "Heya!" He chirped, crouching down before the pair. It had become customary for the young mechanic to invade their conversations whenever he wasn't busy, eager for some company outside of his other sprightly, male colleagues. "What's goin' on?"

"Boooo!" George thundered at his intrusion, reaching for a fistful of peanuts and throwing them at him, a few pinging against his forehead.

"God, who invited you?" Frankie cried, her voice overlapping with George's. "Get your own friends!"

The hostilities were all in jest, the way a sister might poke fun at a brother, and neither woman objected as Lemmons wormed his way in between them, lifting their belongings out of the way to clear a space for him on the grass. Hands folded behind his head, he peered up at them, squinting in the sun. "So... what happened with Brenda?"

"Nuh-uh," George shook her head. "If you wanted to know you should've shown up on time. Those are the rules."

"There's rules now?"

"Obviously, we're not imbeciles," Frankie shrugged. "Get with the program or get fucked, Kenny."

"Jesus Christ."

"So, Ken, how's Fonda?" She asked, her voice taking on a singsong lilt, a teasing smirk curling her lip.

He let out a groan, folding his arms over his head so they couldn't see the red flush that had overtaken his face. "...She's good," After he wallowed in embarrassment for a moment, an indignant expression overtook him, and he bolted upright. "Hey, at least I'm married!"

"Yeah, at nineteen, 'cause that's normal," George snorted, fending him off as he tried to whack her over the head.

"I'm just sayin'! Frankie and Rosie gotta hurry it up a little, I think."

Frankie scoffed, throwing up her hands in surrender. "I... Actually, no, fuck off, I'm not going there with you - I'm sorry that I'm waiting to properly get to know the guy before I get hitched, ok?"

"Oh, she knows the guy, alright," George muttered, and Ken snorted a laugh, the pair letting out yelps as a fistful of peanuts collided with their heads.

"I'm content with my choices!" Frankie declared loudly, and the three of them stewed in silence for a moment before collectively descending into laughter, the sight of a dozen missed peanuts scattered in the grass only adding to the inexplicable hilarity.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was as if they'd almost forgotten what they were waiting for by the time the sound of faraway plane engines began to split the air, a familiar thrumming sound that sent an involuntary jolt of panic through Frankie whenever she heard it, her heart immediately pounding out of her chest as she leapt up, accidentally sticking a foot into the empty bag of nuts as she scrambled to her feet. She'd never felt quite like it, an equal mix of terror and elation flooding through her - fear that it might not be Rosie flying one of the returning buses, but delight at what it meant if he was.

Half of Thorpe Abbotts seemed to have turned up for his return, and Frankie almost burst into tears the moment 'Rosie's Riveters' came into view, George's whooping ringing in her ears as she wrapped her arms around her shoulders, jumping up and down in ecstatic celebration. It took a moment for the gravity of their situation to dawn on her, but when it did she couldn't stop grinning, her cheeks beginning to ache. Rosie was going home. He was safe.

The moment he left the plane, he was swarmed, a dozen hands lifting him up off the tarmac, hauling him up onto the men's shoulders as the barrage of cheers and applause filled his ears. But the second he had slipped through that door, his eyes had found her, standing at the back of the crowd, clapping along, her shoulder leant up against George's. Their gazes met, and she rolled her eyes teasingly - he could almost hear her voice in his head, jokingly begging him to stay humble as he was carried aloft through the crowd.

They were cheering his name, shaking his hand and patting him on the back as he passed, but as soon as his feet touched the tarmac, none of it mattered. The second he was on solid ground again, he was making a beeline towards Frankie, brow raised in question. They were too far apart, too bracketed by ear-splitting cheers for him to simply ask 'Can I kiss you?', but she could always tell. With a smirk and a nod, permission was granted, and the moment they collided his lips were on hers, hands cupping her cheeks, her eyelashes fluttering against his skin. A second, somehow ever more raucous cheer erupted, and he could feel her smiling into the kiss as her hands found his collar, pressing against his jaw. In that moment, even through the cacophony of whoops and yells, she was the only person in the world to him.

The kiss broke, but his hands stayed firmly planted on either side of her face, their foreheads pressed against each other, eyes locked. "Hi," Frankie beamed, speaking so softly that only he could hear.

"Hello."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Frankie had never been quite so much at the centre of attention than she was that night. It was as if the moment Rosie had kissed her in front of everyone on the tarmac, it became her party as well as his, a celebration of just making it, of still having the person you loved at the end of the day. She'd showered three times that afternoon, desperately trying to scrub away the lingering smell of her work, and George had even made her put on lipstick. But Frankie couldn't deny it - she looked fucking good.

The band was in full swing, to such an extent that she had to yell over the incessant ring of trumpets just to order a drink, but as the night rolled on she never once felt Rosie's hand leave her - a gentle palm against her waist or back wherever they went, a quiet reminder that he was home safe, that they were going to be ok. Bailey had an arm around her shoulder, and her head tilted back as she laughed at one of Pappy's jokes, and for once they seemed to feel free - free to simply be each other's friends without having to worry about losing one another.

"So I said to her, I said "Hey Betty, you're gonna wanna paint those ceilings your favourite colour, 'cause you'll be seein' a lot of 'em when I get home," Bailey joked, and she let out a groan as the others laughed, gently slapping his shoulder with the back of her palm. Across the circle they had formed, Croz went digging in his pocket for a cigarette, and she reached out, holding up her lighter for him as he nodded his thanks.

Rosie's hands on her shoulders caught her attention as he slipped around behind her. "I'm gettin' another drink - you need anythin', honey?"

"No, I'm good," She nodded, raising her half-finished beer as proof as he stepped away towards the bar. Turning back to the others, she found Pappy grinning at her, sipping smugly at his whiskey. "Oh, shut up - what're you, twelve?"

"So you've been keeping it under wraps since Christmas?" Crosby asked, raising a brow in alarm as Bailey guffawed.

"Oh, yeah, 'keepin' it under wraps'," He chuckled. "Jesus, we could all tell from the day he got back," The other members of Rosie's flight crew began to laugh, nodding in agreement.

"Well, what can I say? I'm just that great," Frankie grinned, squeezing Bailey's arm as she shuffled past him, moving to follow Rosie towards the bar.

She hadn't had a chance to thank Kidd yet for giving her Bucky's jacket, and was already poised to speak as she approached, a warm smile curling her lip. But then she heard his words.

"Brass is upping the end-of-tour requirements from twenty-five to thirty missions."

Her stomach sank. Not just for the poor pilots, for every man who had been so goddamn close to getting to go home. But because she knew in that moment that Rosie wasn't done. Even if he hadn't realised it yet, even if the decision to stay hadn't yet crossed his mind, she knew him well enough. He wouldn't leave because he couldn't - couldn't give it up and take the easy way out when so many other, less experienced men had to die as a result of this decision. She loved him for it, but maybe she hated him a little too.

Frankie hadn't realised she'd stopped dead in her tracks until Kidd spotted her, his brow furrowing. Rosie turned to follow his gaze, eyes softening the moment they landed on her. "Frankie-"

Her glass went down on the bar with a thud, her desire to drink suddenly evaporated. "Thanks for the jacket, Jack," She nodded, forcing a smile. "That was really nice of you."

Before Rosie got the chance to reach out to her, she had walked away, brushing past them both as she forced her way through the crowd, the thumping of her heartbeat in her ears drowning out the sound of the music. She had begun searching for George without even realising it, spotting her familiar golden curls among a crowd of Red Cross volunteers. Making a move towards her, George turned immediately on her arrival, brow drawing with concern.

"Can we go?"

"Yeah," George accepted without hesitation, casting aside her drink as she shouldered her way towards the door, clearing a path for Frankie to trail along behind.

She hadn't realised quite how tightly she'd been holding her breath until they stepped outside, the cold air hitting her like a wall as she let it out in a gasp, running a hand through her hair as she marched around to the side of the building, sitting down on the nearest bench she could find. The wood creaked as George sat down beside her, placing a gentle hand on her knee and waiting quietly for her to speak.

"I have washed... so much blood out of those planes," Frankie said, her voice uneven, letting out a long, shaky exhale as she spoke. "Before I got this job I didn't really understand how much blood a person could have. Sometimes when they get hit by shrapnel, it tears the leather on the seats, n' the blood soaks into the stuffing. It's really hard to get it out then - usually I just have to seal the hole and leave it in there. But then it's like... whoever gets in that plane next just has to sit on that blood, like there's this permanent reminder that someone died there, but I'm the only one who knows it's there."

"Frankie... what happened? D'you want me to get Rosie?"

"No," She spoke hurriedly, shaking her head. "No, I don't-... I can't talk to him right now."

George turned sideways in her seat to properly look at her, raising a hand to swipe the hair away from her face. "Why? Did he do something?"

Frankie took a deep breath, finally meeting George's gaze, her eyes red and filled with tears. "He's going back up, George."

"What? Did he tell you that?"

"They've upped the number of missions the new guys have to do to be allowed to leave. Rosie's in the clear, but... we both know he won't take it now."

She sniffed, raising a hand to wipe away the tear that trailed down her cheek, and George pulled her forward into a hug, cheek pressed against her scalp as she rubbed her back.

"I'm so tired, George," Frankie croaked, her voice scarcely loud enough to hear.

"I know," She whispered. "... I know."

[sleepanonymous]

This is a reminder to everyone in North America who is unable to get tickets for the pre-sale and general sale of Sleep Token’s Teeth of God tour. DO NOT buy resale tickets through third-party vendors like StubHub, Seat Geek, Vivid Seats, etc. Tickets for the Teeth of God tour are mobile-only and non-transferable. This means the seller will not be able to transfer the tickets you purchased from them. The only reliable way to purchase tickets to this tour is through Ticketmaster or your local venue’s ticketing system. Please protect yourself and do not get scammed. If you do not have tickets and need tickets, check out the list I’ve created below the cut. Once pre-sales/general sales are over, I’ll update this post with more links. For more context, check my post here.

Saturday, April 27 – Las Vegas, Nevada Sick New World Music Festival Purchase Tickets through Sick New World’s Website. Third-party sites and sellers can transfer mobile tickets.

Tuesday, April 30 – Phoenix, Arizona Arizona Financial Theatre 400 W Washington St, Phoenix, AZ 85003 (602) 379-2800 Purchase tickets resale through Ticketmaster.

Wednesday, May 1 – Albuquerque, New Mexico Revel Entertainment Center 4720 Alexander Blvd NE, Albuquerque, NM 87107 (505) 321-0406 Purchase tickets resale through Prekindle.

Friday, May 3 – Austin, Texas H-E-B Center 2100 Ave of the Stars, Cedar Park, TX 78613 (512) 600-5000 Purchase Tickets resale through Ticketmaster.

Saturday, May 4 – Dallas, Texas Toyota Music Factory 316 W Las Colinas Blvd., Irving, TX 75039 (469) 840-9730 Purchase Tickets through Ticketmaster.

Monday, May 6 – Tampa, Florida Yuengling Center 12499 USF Bull Run Drive, Tampa, FL 33617 (813) 974-3111 Purchase Tickets through Ticketmaster.

Tuesday, May 7 – Atlanta, Georgia Coca-Cola Roxy 800 Battery Ave SE #500, Atlanta, GA 30339 (470) 351-3866 Purchase Tickets through Ticketmaster.

Wednesday, May 8 – Asheville, North Carolina ExploreAshville.com Arena 87 Haywood St, Asheville, NC 28801 (828) 259-5736 Purchase Tickets through Ticketmaster.

Friday, May 10 – St. Louis, Missouri The Factory 17105 N Outer 40 Rd, Chesterfield, MO 63005 (314) 423-8500 Purchase Tickets through Ticketmaster.

Sunday, May 12 – Morrison, Colorado Red Rocks Amphitheatre 18300 W Alameda Pkwy, Morrison, CO 80465 (720) 865-2494 Purchase Tickets through AXS. Third-party sites and sellers can transfer mobile tickets.

Tuesday May 14 – Des Moines, Iowa Vibrant Music Hall 2938 Grand Prairie Pkwy, Waukee, IA 50263 (515) 895-4980 Purchase Tickets through Ticketmaster.

Wednesday, May 15 & Thursday, May 16 – Chicago, Illinois Salt Shed 1357 N Elston Ave, Chicago, IL 60642 (708) 967-2168 Purchase Tickets through Ticketmaster. Third-party sites and sellers can transfer mobile tickets.

Saturday, May 18 – Columbus, Ohio Sonic Temple Art & Music Festival Purchase Tickets through Sonic Temple’s Website. Third-party sites and sellers can transfer mobile tickets.

Sunday, May 19 – Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania Petersen Events Center 3719 Terrace St, Pittsburgh, PA 15261 (412) 648-3054 Purchase Tickets through AXS.

Monday, May 20 – Philadelphia, Pennsylvania The Met 858 N Broad St, Philadelphia, PA 19130 (800) 653-8000 Purchase Tickets through Ticketmaster.

Wednesday, May 22 – New York, New York Radio City Music Hall 1260 6th Ave, New York, NY 10020 (212) 465-6000 Purchase Tickets through Ticketmaster. Third-party sites and sellers can transfer mobile tickets.

Friday, May 24 – Boston, Massachusetts MGM Music Hall 2 Lansdowne St, Boston, MA 02215 (617) 488-7540 Purchase Tickets through Ticketmaster.

Saturday, May 25 – Laval, Quebec Place Bell 1950 Rue Claude-Gagné, Laval, QC H7N 0E4, Canada (514) 492-1775 Purchase Tickets through Ticketmaster.

Monday, May 27 & Tuesday May 28– Toronto, Ontario Massey Hall 178 Victoria St, Toronto, ON M5B 1T7, Canada (416) 872-4255 Purchase Tickets through Massey Hall.

[wub-fur-radio]

420,000,000 Reefer Fans Can’t Be Wrong Punk Gunk, Garage, Psych & Other Wild Shit — Volume 420

Our annual 4/20 holiday mix — 19 "New Rockophonic" HIGH Fidelity Recordings for your holiday (or any day) listening pleasure. Featuring musical joints from Th' Losin Streaks, Kid Congo & The Pink Monkey Birds, The Cavemen, Astral Magic, Sonnyskyes, Drunk Mums, Mean Jeans, Bass Drum of Death, and 11 more bands who can’t be wrong.

Apologies to The King (still America’s favorite pillhead/narc/rock icon). Legalize Marijuana Everywhere Now! End the War on Drugs!

▶︎🎶 Listen on Mixcloud

Running Time: 59 minutes, 53 seconds

Tracklist

I Mean You (2:50) — Th’ Losin Streaks | Sacramento, CA

This Generation (2:55) — Opinion | Occitanie, France

Flowers On My Grave (2:57) — The Cavemen | Auckland, New Zealand †

The Boy Had It All (3:22) — Kid Congo & The Pink Monkey Birds | Tucson, AZ

Echoes All Around (3:36) — Sun Dial | England, UK †

Let's Take a Ride (4:02) — Astral Magic | Finland †

Clean My Head (3:43) — The Brooms! | Portugal

I'm Flying Too (2:57) — Sonnyskyes | Long Beach, CA

L.S.D. (2:30) — Acid Tongue | Seattle, WA

Something You'll Never Find (3:18) — The Cripplers + Alicja Trout | Memphis, TN

He Lost His Mind (2:47) — The Revox | Switzerland †

Last Day on Earth (2:34) — The Satelliters | Germany

Saturday (1:48) — Drunk Mums | Melbourne, Australia

I Don't Give a Shit Anymore (2:24) — Mean Jeans | Portland, OR †

Mindwater (3:45) — Still Animals | St. Louis, MO

And Here We Are (4:34) — Misty Lanes | Sydney, Australia

Revelations (3:43) — Levitation Room | Los Angeles, CA

White Vine (3:12) — Bass Drum of Death | Mississippi †

This Might Be The End (2:57) — The Decibels | Sacramento, CA †

All tracks released in 2024, except those marked † released 2023.

[books-by-gauss]

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/revelation-18-and-the-fate-of-america-james-f-gauss/1144941009

Most Christian theologians, preachers and evangelists concede and proclaim that America or the United States of America is not mentioned in the Bible.  By name, that is true.  However, the same could be said of Canada, Mexico, South American countries and a host of other nations.  But does the concept, characteristic and history of America appear in the Bible?  Read Revelation 18 and the Fate of America today and decide for yourself.  Your future and that of your family and America are at stake.  Available on Amazon in paperback and hard cover or on Barnes & Noble as an eBook.

[jakes3resin]

gosh!! magic au!! theseus! chaos of having at the base and it’s like two bucky. gale would definitely be shocked!

That au really hit me like a fever dream, my dear anon. I was thinking about the Twin Cleven AU and the Blond Bucky bit I added when I remembered I tacked on a tiny Theseus Easter egg. 30 minutes later I had Magic AU in my drafts with no memory of writing it.

But I've sketched out some thoughts for you and for those who are interested (please keep in mind the last time I watched Fantastic Beasts was a few years ago so I don't remember much):

Bucky's a Scamander by his father (Theseus and Newt's uncle) but goes by his mother's maiden name as he was taken in by her brother and his wife.

Both his parents were magic, but they died near the end of the First World War. Bucky stayed with the Scamanders for a little while before eventually going to America before he turned 4. Theseus was very close with him, and they were occasionally mistaken as father and son due to the age difference (Theseus was a war hero during the First World War if I remember correctly?) (Also that could be an AU now that I think about it but not rn)

He has a bit of a British accent, comes out more when he's using magic. Or when he's around his cousins. First time Buck hears it, he just about faints.

Went to Hogwarts solely because his parents went there, and he wanted to feel close to them. Not sure what House but leaning Hufflepuff. He seems like he'd be happy there.

Enjoyed the school somewhat, but he dealt with some bullying due to his American upbringing as well as some of the students still remembered Newt and bullied him for that connection.

His favorite animal is still the unicorn. It's just not extinct like he said to Buck. What can I say? Every Scamander is good with magical animals.

Had an accidental falling out with the Scamander family who wanted him to move permanently to England and stay with them during his schooling, but he prefered spending his summers in America and winter holidays in the castle.

Came home before he turned 18 (I guess started Hogwarts young for his grade? Idk.) And decided to blend in to Muggle/No-Maj society by going to college and later joining the Air Force.

After Bucky's revelation to the RAF pilots, one of them writes home saying he met Theseus Scamander's cousin! This gets passed through Wizarding society until it lands in the ears of Theseus who didn't have a clue his cousin was in England, let alone serving in a Muggle unit. And after hearing about the death toll, he gets scared.

Theseus resolves to pop down there and check in on his cousin. And unknowingly reeks havoc upon Thorpes Abbotts.

Looks like this:

(This is in a nebulous point before Curtis' death because he deserves to be alive my baby boy)

Literally everyone that sees him is flabbergasted because 1) Major Egan is handsome but he never dresses like That and 2) Major Egan is supposed to be flying back from a mission right now. Word travels through base, and it's alight with rumors.

Theseus gets dragged to Kidd's office because literally everyone is freaking out, and he's quite confused why everyone keeps calling him Bucky. He tries to explain that he's Theseus and that he's here to see his cousin John, but every time he speaks the people around him all jump (its cause his accent spooks them. That accent should not be coming from someone who looks so much like Bucky in their mind. Boy are they in for a rude awakening.)

Bucky flies back in, and after interrogation, he doesn't even get a chance to change clothes before he's being dragged to Kidd's office. Buck and a few of the boys follow utterly confused. If Bucky's in trouble, Buck's not just gonna stand by.

Theseus happily greets Bucky when he walks into the office, and the pair have an okay reunion before Theseus states that he's here to check on his younger cousin, heavily implying that he's here to transfer Bucky to a British outfit as he's a British citizen and their family connections want to keep him safe (really a Wizard one but among Muggles he's better at speaking around the issue)

Thus an argument breaks out. Bucky's accent also comes out, and nearly everyone around him loses their minds.

Buck really, really does not want to talk about what that accent does to him. It's confusing and concerning. (Clegan are together, but when your partner busts out the London Accent, well that's a gamechanger)

Anyways idk where it goes after that, but now everyone has to deal with the fallout that Bucky is British and has a nearly identical cousin who pops in to check on him.

[morlock-holmes]

The Last Psychiatrist's book came out, which led me to two reviews, both of which call him out for saying stuff that is obviously crazy but both of which also contain incredibly bizarre statements just tossed out there with seemingly no self-consciousness about whether they are just as odd as anything TLP has written:

I'm just going to ignore those parts of Scott Alexander's review that are like that to focus on a pet peeve:

(The Bible describes very clearly what angels look like. Everyone agrees the Bible is the authority on angels, maybe the only primary source for them at all. All Western culture for 1500 years has been based around the Bible. There are hundreds of millions of people who take the Bible completely literally and read it every day. The Bible says - Revelations 22:18 - that if anyone changes the Bible in any way even by a single word they will be punished with eternal torture. And yet nobody’s mental image of an angel, nor any popular artistic depiction of an angel, has anything in common with the Biblical description. This is the highest-grade antimeme I feel comfortable using as an example; if you don’t see the fnords they can’t eat you.)

I mean that's... that's just definitely not the case.

Alexander links to this review by Zero HP Lovecraft (Whom I am unfamiliar with) who says,

I want to explain some things to you now that you probably feel deep in your bones but probably haven’t found the time to articulate. Whenever someone talks about “capitalism” like it’s a hostile alien living among us, they are either wittingly or unwittingly agitating for communism. They may not even realize it. Everyone feels some measure of discontent in their life and the lazy, fashionable scapegoat for this in current year america is “capitalism.” If you blame capitalism for your problems, no one will take it personally, and many of the other monkeys around you will make agreeable noises. But there is exactly one group of people who blames all their problems on capitalism, and that is communists. If you blame your problems on capitalism, you are a communist. If you talk about “late capitalism” or “late stage capitalism” you are (possibly unwittingly) claiming that the return of Christ glorious worker’s uprising is nigh, repent repent, every knee shall bow and every tongue confess that Georgius Christ is Floyd. There are two ways you can try to get out of this: the first is “yes, and” and the other is “no, but”. If you’re part of the first group, you’re irredeemable. Communism, much like being a woman, is a congenital condition, and it can’t be cured, though sometimes you can treat the symptoms. If you aren’t a communist, but you scapegoat or criticize capitalism, then you are at the least participating in communism, but it may not be your essential nature. The slur for these people is “neoliberal” — a word that means someone who likes communism in theory but is just slightly too pragmatic to ever get past second base with her. You’re the ones I’m trying to help. We can tell TLP is in this second group because although he talks about capitalism, he saves his worst vitriol for “the media,” which is a right wing dog whistle, just like talking about capitalism is left-wing dog whistle. When a man is sending you mixed signals, it means he himself is confused.

This is more batshit than anything that he quotes from TLP.

I'm trying to figure out if this means:

"Capitalism" is a word that refers to every possible human economic system other than communism, such that by definition the only possible alternative is communism;

"Capitalism" and particularly "Communism" are not specific historical economic systems, but in fact names for the exactly two economic systems that can exist;

Current technological or political realities ensure that it is literally impossible to create any economic systems other than capitalism or communism at this particular moment, such that opposition to one is de facto support of the other

The first two would be bizarre, and even the last is, uh, contentious but reading further this guy wasn't pulling a schtick, he's just a depressing John Bircher who knows that if he pretends that he's giving you some secret post-normie secret insight we'll just forget everything about American history. Guys, did you know that blacks are inferior to whites, and more criminal, that only super insightful insight porn writers have ever come up with such an out-of-left field crazy idea that no american normie could ever actually believe?

Honestly, fuck this depressing fascist. His ilk are going to be running the country soon, complaining about how hamstrung they are as they march people into camps. It's amazing how good he is at selling the most normie American bullshit as, like, forbidden knowledge that only the most enlightened masters have cued into.

Honestly his opinions seem to be:

Men have been feminized, and that's bad;

White racial pride has been atenuated, and that's bad;

Trans people are mutilating themselves, and need to be stopped;

Blacks are more criminal than whites, and need to be controlled

But sold as, like, this forbidden knowledge that only somebody as smart as him could come up with. It's amazing how these people will see a finger-wagging leftist and then decide that said leftist must be running American politics.

I am poorer for having read this dumb bitch.

[gotskamstuff]

Hi lovely people, this is the awkward post where I self insert my own creations (?) and I pretend not to feel vulnerable about it!

You can find me on AO3 as NinaFiona and I mainly (actually only as of now) write about OBX Jiara!🤍

Outer Banks - Jiara:

• I can run but I can’t hide (from my family line) (Ao3 link)

Picking up the story right where we left it on 4x05 with JJ dealing with this life shuttering revelation, breaking the news to everyone and learning how to accept it thanks to Kie’s help…while also dealing with some complications.

• Anything for you (Ao3 link)

The story of how JJ and Kie became Jiara in a collection of missing moments throughout the years, from locked doors, Kiara’s kook year, Poguelandia and more!

• This time next year (Ao3 link)

A lot of Jiara's firsts were lost in the 18 months time jump, so here is them celebrating their first anniversary and simply being disgustingly in love with each other! (some sort of sequel to "Anything for you" BUT it can 100% still be taken separately)

• If the world was ending you’d come over, right? (Ao3 link)

During her Kook year Kiara finds herself in trouble and she'll find the courage to reach out to JJ to ask for help, hopefully getting her best friend back.

• It will be alright (Ao3 link)

A little missing moment on how the Pogues dealt with Sarah and John B’s disappearance set between S1 and S2; as long as the three of them kept that promise of being a Pogue for life it was going to be alright just like JJ told her and she believed it.

• Don’t hide from me (Ao3 link)

Taking it all the way back to S1, this takes place during episode 1x08 the night Kie and Pope have the fight on the Pogue over her Kook year and JJ is there to pick up the pieces as he discovers what truly happened during Kiara’s year at the Kook Academy.

• Everything to lose (Ao3 link)

10 months after returning home from South America JJ is finally living the life of his dreams: financial stability, a houseboat, a business of his own and most importantly Kiara by his side but when Luke makes a sudden appearance back in Kildare, JJ will be forced to face his past and find the strength to close the last chapter of the life he left behind ‘cause for the first time he has something to lose.

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

What You Deserve

The Boys

Kevin Moskowitz (The Deep) x Reader (NSFW)

(987 Words)

Summary: The Deep learns to respect women

Warnings/Tags: 18+, dom!reader, sub!Deep, allusions to sexual assault, hair-pulling, degradation, light bondage, strap-on, The Deep being spineless, gills

Notes: he’s such a fucking loser LMAO the reader is implied fem (bc the content) but no genitals are specified, so go nuts readers!! but this was lowkey a little empowering to write fr, enjoy the fic!!

-

“Christ, are you even fucking listening to me?” You grip his jaw harshly. A sudden wince escapes his lips. He’s startled by your aggression, tensing up with his gaze now completely on you.

“I,” he mutters, “I’m sorry.” His voice is clear, pitiful.

“Good,” You smile. Softening your grip, you let your hand fall to where his neck and shoulder meet, keeping your thumb tracing the outside of his throat- an intimate, yet threatening action that The Deep was all too familiar with. He seems to loosen up at your smile, but you can pinpoint the exact moment his heart drops at the sound of your words. “Now take it off.”

The Deep is hesitant. An expression of uncertainty is splashed across his face. His eyes, brilliantly oceanic, stare back at you pleadingly- as if begging you not to make him do what you want him to do.

“It wasn’t a question, Deep,” you say as if you could hear him. Honeyed venom drips from your voice at the sound of his hero name being annunciated. “Don’t make say it again.”

Almost immediately, the silence between the two of you is broken by a defeated sigh, the unzipping of his top, and the sound of it hitting the floor. In front of you, stands The Deep; nervous, self-conscious, and utterly aroused.

Your eyes cascade down his exposed upper half. His sculpted physique stands there stupidly. Meeting The Deep’s eyes once again, you see the war of his insecurity raging throughout his mind.

“They’re really not that bad you know.” You lightly drag your fingers dangerously close to his gills, which begin to flare gently. You can hear him suck in a breath as you tease along the edges of his flesh.

“Please don’t-“

“Don’t worry, I’m not,” you chuckle. You trail your hands up his arms, ending at his shoulders in tight grip that The Deep couldn’t tell was comforting or threatening. You smile wickedly. “I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, I would never stoop to your level.”

The Deep carried himself in a way that seemed vain, brandishing his arrogance with every public appearance. The way Vought would showcase their heroes always came off as superficial, making them flawless to the public eye. It was all an act, it was all bullshit.

Once you learned the truth about supes, The Deep’s sexual misconduct certainly did not come as a surprise you. The fact that he was marketed as The Seven’s heartthrob seemed to worsen that fact until you could see the real him, and what you saw was just a man. Sure, a superhuman man who can swim with inhuman strength, speak to sea creatures, and has gills, but still a man, nonetheless. Behind the fame, publicly, and Vought’s control, The Deep is just Kevin. Just a man with the same insecurities, thoughts, and desires as everybody else, and what a beautiful revelation that is.

“You’re fucking disgusting, you know that?” You say softly. You can see the shame glint across his eyes. You release your grip on his shoulders, allowing your hand to trace up the nape of his neck. “Not for your gills, but the way you use women…”

You press your thumb on the back of his head, cradling it ever so slightly.

“…The way you humiliate them...” Your fingers begin to rake through his chestnut colored hair, which was growing back in nicely after his breakdown in Sandusky. “…Treating them like shit...”

Despite your harsh, honest words, The Deep melted into your touch.

“And for what?” You continue to soothe. “You’re a part of The Seven; America’s fucking sweethearts.”

Your hand is resting on the back of his scalp, gazing into those oceanic eyes. “You already have so much power, why abuse it?”

Kevin pipes up. “It’s not that simple-”

“I know.” You finally snap your hand into a fist, tugging at his hair; roughly yanking him down onto the mattress. “…Which is why we are going to get to the root of your issues.”

Kevin whines at the sudden tightness in his hair, stammering as he finds you on top of him and your mouth devouring his neck.

“You’re a horrible fucking person; a fucking mess...” Your teeth nip across his collarbone, kisses excruciatingly rough. “And you’re going to learn to treat women with some fucking respect.”

“Oh god, yes-” Kevin trails off shakily, head clouded with lust.

“Say it like you fucking mean it.” You give him a light slap.

Kevin snaps back to reality. “Yes! I fucking mean it-” he breathes pathetically.

“Good, because in here?” You push Kevin down by his shoulders and straddle him. “You listen to me, understand? When it’s just the two of us, you have no power…”

You undo his belt, placing it aside. “No control…”

You yank Kevin to his knees, only to forcefully slam him chest first into the wall. “None of that supe bullshit to save you…”

Finding the his belt again, you tightly wrap it around his wrists to tie his hands behind his back. Kevin whimpers out of fear and arousal.

“…And you’re going to enjoy every second of it,” you pull back for a moment, “Are you enjoying it, Kevin?”

Kevin takes a moment to process his position. His erection is obvious, excruciating. Heavily breathing, feeing his chest graze the wall with every exhale. His wrists, tightly bound behind him. He looks back at you; eyes practically begging you to ruin him.

“Yeah,” he gulps.

“Good,” you loosen up on him, “Because you’re about to get everything you fucking deserve.”

A chill runs down Kevin’s spine when he turns around to see you fastening on a strap-on.

“On your fucking knees, Kevin,” you chuckle. With one hand you whirl him around and lower him to his knees. His eyes are wide, terrified, but his erection begs to differ. “We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”