Disclaimer: Do not own Marvel, DC or The 100
Warnings for period typical misogyny, racism, xenophobia, anti-Semitism and homophobia and ableism.
And warnings for references to World War II, Nazis and genocide of Jews, homosexuals, Roma and the disabled. And many of those killed being children.
Historical fics: The stress of the fifties
The year was 1951, The war with Germany was brought to an end a year ago, but a new war was started in Korea. Newsstands all over the United States boasted newspapers declaring the happenings of the new war.
Those that refused to fight on the side of the United States against Korea, within the military, were, as to be expected, placed in prison.
However, it would be difficult to find someone who was not willing to fight against Koreans, people they viewed as "enemies," for the basis of Koreans' skin color and birthplace.
This could not be said for Steve Rogers, who at the age of only twenty-three, had valiantly fought against the Nazis in World War II, and understood the evil that needed to be stopped.
At the time, his friends, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, amongst others, had offered him a way out of the war by protecting him with their money. But he had refused. He was going to do what was right. There were millions and millions of innocent people through the countries that the Nazis had taken over and were oppressing.
Jews, Roma, disabled people, homosexuals.
People were being eradicated by the masses. Masses of children murdered. Steve knew that he had to fight like so many others did.
He did what he knew to be the right thing.
As did Diana Prince, Peggy Carter and so many other women. Women couldn't fight in the military like men could, but they refused to stand on the sidelines while bigotry and evil flourished. They threw everything they had into strategy, planning, gaining the information that they could gain, disposed it in lethal fashion when they needed to, which was often.
The war was ended now, in Germany, anyway. And the Nazis beaten. While there were rumors that there were more than a few of their brethren being allowed sanctuary in various countries, including the United States, which Steve, Diana, Peggy and all of their number greatly hoped was not true, the concentration camps were captured and the people within them, freed. For now, it appeared that they could be somewhat at ease.
They knew that there were so many out there, who while they were freed from the camps, would likely have to live with those traumatic scars for the rest of their lives. But they were freed.
And now, the Korean war? This was not their concern. And it wasn't a necessary war. They didn't think it was.
There was a debate about what would happen should the Korean war not go in the Americans' favor.
But they didn't view the Korean war as a necessary war. They would not be involved. Which was why, when they were demanded to get involved, they refused. And why they took up Stark and Potts and the others' offers of protection from their money.
And they were enjoying their protection, as well, as spending their money on this place near where they lived in. In Chicago. A place for many women and a few men of "ill fame."
It was to be simply put, a brothel.
Or, a club, to be more polite.
The group who had made sure that they were safe from recruitment in the Korean war, a war that they viewed as unnecessary; made up of men and women alike; Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson, Carol Danvers, Thor Odinson, Hela Odinsdotter, Loki Laufeyson, Diana Prince, Wanda Maximoff, Brunnhilde, Tora Olafsdotter, Beatriz da Costa, Sigrid Nansen, Shayer Hol, Mari Jiwe McCabe, James Rhodes or, "Rhodey," Peggy Carter, amongst others, viewed the many dancers on the stage and the many men and women offering themselves sexually to customers.
But several of them, only had eyes fixated on one dancer in particular.
A woman on the stage, leaning against a pole, stroking her ass along it, showing off her cleavage.
She was blonde and looked to be in her early twenties at the oldest.
Several of the group knew her well.
Clarke Griffin.
She was a regular here, as were they. And no, that wasn't a coincidence.
They frequented this club, specifically for Clarke.
They had met her several months ago, after celebrating the end of the Nazis.
And they had met Clarke. They were taken with her. They couldn't help it.
They were sure that many of the men would be met with complete understanding from jocular men claiming that, "yeah, you have a thing for her, look at that bosom, look at those legs!"
And they were sure that they'd be met with a great deal of disgust from women who were judgmental, only because they were taught that women were less "valuable" if they slept with anyone outside of marriage or if they slept with more than one person, unlike men, who could do whatever they wanted without judgment.
But none of the rumors that they'd probably get, as to why they were fixated on Clarke, was actually the reason why.
They wanted her, because they loved her.
Yes, women being with other women? It was deeply frowned down on by the society of the United States.
But it didn't change that the women of the group, Natasha, Wanda, Diana, Tora, Beatriz, Sigrid, Yelena, Melina, Hela, amongst others, wanted Clarke. They wanted to put their mouths on her, wanted to fist her, wanted to grind against her pussy with their own, wanted to use a few toys they had at their disposal on her.
Perhaps not the best thing to think about. But they didn't see why they should be condemned for having just as filthy thoughts as their male companions.
For all of them, Clarke was beautiful, sweet, gentle, but cold, calculating, and firm.
She was interested in business and gaining advantage in her profession. But she was also kind. And considerate and sweet. But also took no nonsense from any of them.
Clarke was a gentle young woman, but knew what needed to be done to gain the money for the rent for the end of the month.
Clarke had even said it, while she was taking some money that Tony gave her, after she gave him a lap dance, "Our government says we should pay taxes, but no one says that we should pay our taxes by any means necessary. But that's just how things are. But it's just that our society doesn't want to admit that."
Pepper had actually laughed, when she had asked if she could finger Clarke and had paid Clarke to get to finger the young woman.
And Pepper had laughed because Clarke, was right.
The United States had a problem. As did a few other societies, arguably.
No one wanted to admit that they legalized prostitutes, or legalized porn. But everyone sought it out.
Everyone had needs. Even if someone was masturbating in their own home, where no one could see them?
That porn was still aimed at them.
Anyone with sexual needs, watched porn or looked at someone in a club like this one, to get themselves off.
And how many of those individuals were politicians? Most likely more than a few.
They watched women, or, men give someone else a lap dance and got off on it, but then turned around and claimed that such a thing was somehow immoral.
The United States had such a problem, even if no one here admitted it.
Here in Chicago, Illinois, you could dress up all you wanted in long black coats and bowler hats, and other sorts of fashionable hats of this era, or in fancy dresses and hairstyles all you wanted, but it didn't change that beneath all that? There was a gritty underside.
Men and women alike kept secrets from each other in marriage and in the government.
There was rape, murder, abuse, just to name a few things that were kept under wraps, so that it wouldn't see the light of day.
There were vicious secrets about what was done to people, especially to women, behind closed doors, that no one wanted to admit to.
Because if they admitted to that?
Then the United States would not be able to stand on its high horse and claim that it was the country with superior morals.
In fact, the group which were watching Clarke Griffin dance, knew that it was true that things were corrupt here in the United States.
The Korean war had started, and they were positive that it wasn't a necessary war.
The Rosenbergs were executed; humiliated and executed, accused of being spies for the Russians. Communists.
And maybe it was true. Maybe it wasn't. The point was? The way that they were dragged through the streets, persecuted and then murdered, yes, murdered, wasn't acceptable. The only reason why it was deemed as "acceptable," was because the government said it was.
What this group had realized was that the moment the government claimed that something was wrong or immoral, they had better start thinking very carefully what they viewed as wrong or not.
Paying for the services of a prostitute wasn't wrong. Not to them. Even if the government claimed it was immoral.
And women being sexually attracted to another woman wasn't wrong. Not to them. Even if the government claimed it was immoral.
They knew how society would view them. And their Clarke Griffin. But they didn't care.
When Clarke reached the edge of the stage, she looked down at them, her eyebrows bouncing up suggestively.
Tony chuckled, wanting to unzip his pants, but didn't. His cock, under the fabric of his pants, writhed.
"Come on, baby girl," he said, gesturing to his covered dick, "Daddy wants a lap dance."
Clarke smirked, jutting her chin out defiantly, "Pay for it first, old man."
Tony snorted, sticking his hand into his pocket and pulling out a big wad of cash.
"Think I can't afford your pussy bouncing on me?" He asked, pulling out several Benjamins, "Who says that?"
Clarke laughed, seeing the multiple hundreds being offered up to her.
She was expensive. Because she knew the job.
But not so expensive that she didn't know when to take the money offered to her.
She wasn't an idiot.
Unlike a great deal of her male clients.
And she'd taken the offer. Took the money and rode Tony's covered dick, making him groan and coming in his pants against the woman giving him the lap dance.
Tony had surprised Clarke then, when he had asked, half-groaning but looking concerned, "Did you cum?"
Clarke was surprised and confessed that no, she didn't. Which was when Tony had offered her more money, to finger her and get her to cum this time.
Clarke was further startled.
But at the amount of money offered to her? She took it.
And she let Tony finger her. Riding his fingers, it had led to her coming four times and Tony would have made her cum a fifth time, if Clarke hadn't pulled herself off of his fingers.
Tony had practically cooed for her to get back onto his fingers, but Clarke pulled her pants back on and got back onto the stage, on wobbly legs.
On and off, they were able to pay Clarke to let them pleasure her various times.
The problem? Clarke was very much aware of the world she lived in, very much aware of the way society saw women, much less working women who sold their bodies for money, which was why she never took up the offers given to her by these people to live with them. To leave her job.
She needed to look after herself and make money for herself.
Tony and a good number of the others all had offered her endless money.
But Clarke had asked the smart thing and said, "And how do I have proof that you will follow through on your promise after I move in with all of you? I could move in with all of you and still, you might not give me all that money. Which would leave me with what? No job, no money."
Clarke was too self-sufficient, too aware of the society around them.
They had meant their words when they said that they would provide her with all the money she could imagine.
But Clarke was too cautious.
As Clarke swung around against the pole, her right hand gripping it as she swung around, she caught sight of her frequent clients and smirked suggestively at them.
As the song changed, the band on the floor ending their first song, then going to the next one, Clarke and all the other prostitutes and dancers, moved as one across the stage, moving suggestively as they did.
After of the other women began to grind up against customers and Clarke reached the group of people who had come to see her.
She grinned, getting up on Steve's lap and began rubbing against him as she said, a borderline purr in her voice, "Happy you're here and not in Korea getting shot at, lover boy."
Steve smirked back, leaning back against the wall and letting Clarke kiss his throat.
"You know," Natasha commented, smirking, "For someone who doesn't want to live with us? You sure like paying affectionate attention to us, without payment."
"I'm only going to demand payment if I touch you in any way," Clarke teased Natasha, earning a mock hurt look from the older woman.
Clarke turned back to Steve and began to kiss his neck, biting it gently.
Steve reached his arms around her and stroked her back, closing his eyes, smiling.
He glanced at his companions and they shared a smile with him.
Clarke, given her distrust of them, clearly thought that all they wanted with her, was just sex. They wanted sex with her. Plenty of sex.
But it was far more than that.
They wanted to be with her. Wanted to hold her and for her to live with them, wanted her to have an actual relationship with them.
They knew that marriage between multiple people wasn't legal in the United States.
But that didn't matter to them. They just wanted to be with her.
Tony and Pepper were married.
But they wanted a relationship with Clarke, too.
They hoped she'd understand that one day.
Pepper knew that Clarke would refuse living with them, so far. But she knew that they could coax the young woman into having a few dates with them, so long as they paid.
Which was why she said slyly, "Clarke, I have a question, have you eaten yet?"
Clarke gave Pepper a dry look as she sat perched on Steve's lap.
"Is this going to turn into a sex joke, Potts?" She asked, "Because considering I'm already willing to use my mouth to pleasure all of you, as long as you pay, I think we all know there's no need for that."
Pepper chuckled, "Nothing like that, Clarke. I'm actually asking. Have you eaten yet tonight?"
"No," Clarke said, eyeing Pepper, "Why?" It took her a moment to realize, then she snorted, "You saying you'll pay to have dinner with me?"
"Yes, Clarke," Pepper chuckled, "The usual place, I'm sure you know."
"Right," Clarke grumbled, rolling her eyes as she faced Steve, "Lime and coconut cake time, huh?"
"And mango cake time, too," Pepper pointed out, smiling. This gave Clarke pause.
Money was the biggest incentive here, as to be expected. And Clarke wasn't going to pretend that she didn't enjoy the sex too. Or having the power over clients by giving them the fantasy they desperately wanted.
But one of Clarke's many weaknesses, was the cake that was sold at the nearby diner, called "First string diner."
It had the usual generic diner foods and drinks. But their desserts? Were to die for.
Clarke, given that she devoutly took care of her finances, because she didn't want to risk being unemployed in a society that favored men, she kept to places like that diner. Cheap prices and all.
But Clarke honestly liked the desserts there. Clarke's favorite cake, was the diner's mango cake.
She was pretty critical, however, of the lime and coconut cake that Tony and Steve obsessed over.
She one time joked that the two of them should move in together, obsessing over the lime and coconut cake, and have Pepper be their cover, when the truth would be they were actual gay lovers.
Clarke had said this in the past as a joke, but they all knew that she'd never judge any of the men if they were homosexual.
It just happened that they definitely were not, though, Clarke was positive, given that she knew that Tony had slept with both Steve and Bruce a few times, they were at least sexually attracted to men, as well as women.
"Fine," Clarke grumbled, rolling her hips against Steve, making him groan as his clothed cock stroked against her cunt, "But let me do my work here first."
Pepper and Natasha chuckled as they watched Clarke give Steve a lap dance, causing Steve to moan and a few stifled gasps coming from Clarke's throat.
They paid her heavily for fucking all of them that night.
When it got close to 7 o'clock, Clarke had gone to the showers of the club, washed herself up, gotten some new clothes, and her clients, who had gone to their homes and had done the same, met up with her later.
They met in front of the very diner where they were going to be eating.
Anyone who saw them, saw the fancy suits which Clarke's clients wore, as well as their hats, ties, and the women's outfits, which consisted of the glossy green, red, blue, black and white blouses and dresses and skirts.
And as to be expected of women, the high heels.
Clarke herself, highly disliked high heels. She would do anything for flat shoes. It was why she tossed her glossy red high heels into her backroom, and just put on her black sandals and went with her clients to the diner.
She always wore her heels while on the stage to fit the fantasies that she tried to emulate.
But she knew that the clients she was with right now? Wouldn't judge her, no matter what she wore.
She could be going to dinner with them in a tiny bikini or deliberately dressed like a mummy, and they'd want to be with her.
She didn't get the appeal that she had for them. But that was just how it was.
They had a job for her? Fine. She'd take it.
They entered the diner, which was filled with waitresses in thick, dark skirts, and white blouses, carrying dinners, drinks and desserts on plates to tables.
Tony, as soon as he approached the waiter at the front desk and flashed a smile, taking his hat from his head respectfully, the waiter sat all of them down.
Clarke chuckled as she sat between Natasha and Steve, snuggling her dark fur coat that Pepper had bought for her around her body, "Always getting us the best seats, aren't yah, Stark?"
"Well, you disagree about how good this seat is, huh?" Tony asked, gesturing to the large window they were seated next to.
They were led up the stairs to the next floor of the diner. And through the window, they could see the long river of Chicago. The lights throughout the city just added to the beauty.
Clarke said, leaning against the glass, "It is beautiful, I'll admit."
Tony chuckled.
"Admit it," Natasha said, smiling but making sure to keep the hope from her voice, "We can get you the best dates."
Clarke scoffed. "I mean," she said, "You're not wrong."
She added as she turned back to look at the waitresses going past them, "I appreciate all of you. Really, I do." She glanced at Tony and said, smirking, "I'll just never get over your obsession with lime and coconut cake, Stark."
Tony shrugged, grinning, "Well, there's always mango for you."
Clarke rolled her eyes.
She then leaned her head against Steve's arm as she said, "I'm just happy that none of you were sent off to Korea."
Clarke was leaning against Steve, so, she missed his and the others' shared smiles.
They knew they would need to approach the subject that was their feelings for Clarke soon. They had no idea how Clarke would react, but they were positive that she loved them that way too. Even if she didn't want to admit it.
But they hoped they could get her to live with them one day. They could be happy together. They were sure of it.
Author's note
This, as everyone may have noticed, is not as detailed as my other historical fiction segments. The fifties don't pull me in as much as older periods. I thought of doing one in the fifties, but wasn't able to think of much to say.