#because I thought it was PAINFULLY clear this post was about fandom dynamics

[dreamytfw]

You know what I find interesting?

Dean calls Sam's true crime hobby a fetish as siblings are wont to do: no one bats an eye. Everyone understands it is a joke/sibling banter.

Sam calls Dean's cowboy/Western history hobby a fetish as siblings are wont to do: "OMG DEAN LITERALLY WANTS TO GET FUCKED BY A COWBOY SO BAD HE HAS AN ACTUAL LITERAL FETISH FOR COWBOYS AND THERE IS NO OTHER WAY TO INTERPRET THAT LINE!!!"

And for added interest: this reading (afaik) is not brought to you by Wincest shippers, and if you ask one of them why Sam would know about Dean's sexual fetishes and would seriously talk about it in front of their adoptive father (yes, Sam says that in front of Bobby), YOU get accused of shipping Wincest!

[knowlesian]

i’ve sort of debated whether i wanted to hit post on this and despite the fact that i have clearly now done it: i am honestly still internally unsure!

i am painfully aware that the target audience for this message is more likely to roll their eyes about ‘woke fandom’, ignore my actual point, and get back to creating alternate histories surrounding why they’d prefer one of ed’s ancestors floating alone on a raft to wherever the fuck, instead, because for them: this isn’t emotional. this is fun.

but this was part of what i really wanted to say in that ask about “hey, stop saying māori. honestly if you just stop pointing out these things entirely and shut up about race unless you talk about it in ways that make me feel good that would work out great for me” the other week, and it will not leave me mentally alone until i do it.

(which, again: that was what the ask actually said. exact wording being the thing that defeats unintentional racism is a weird reverse uno card that gets played a lot in these situations, so to be clear that was not the verbatim word choice. however, asking people to stop referring to ed as māori leads to the question: what do you want me to call him? because we all seem to agree: ed is not a white man. 

so what then? you want me to say ‘brown’ and leave it there? ‘i guess some sort of polynesian?’ or, given the strange insistence on race blindness here, is the goal to get everybody to pretend race doesn’t factor into social dynamics? because unfortunately, that’s a thing only white people get to do. not because the rest of us don’t want to— but because the world will not let us.)

i’m not māori and ed’s story is so culturally specific and influenced by that history that pretending i can do anything but see an echo of myself in him would be silly, at best: but i do have that echo.

i’m from the united states, where we also have a long and lovely history of genocide both literal and cultural towards our indigenous populations. 

it’s the cultural part that gets me really fucked up on a personal level v a justice one, when i see the shadows of myself reflected in this adjacent lane. white people stealing indigenous kids and raising them to be nothing but white is not just a part of my ancestral history; it’s how i got adopted. 

when my birthmother started the process the race math was done, and it came up with: ooooh yeah, sorry. this one’s a little bit too much Not White, send ‘em through the tribal system, it’s the law.

and then some legal fuckery happened. for reasons i both don’t want to and don’t feel comfortable explaining further, a box saying ‘nope! just white!’ was checked on some paperwork: i went home with a white couple. 

i have known all my life two things, because i was told them over and over:

- that i am so not white, it took a crime to bring me home

- and that since they did that, all i am is white. 

(i grew up when the us was OBSESSED with the idea of being a melting pot, and my mom used to like to tell a story about how when i was young, people would come up to her in public all the time and ask ‘what i was’. apparently i wore my soul a lot more clearly on my face those days and now, i pass so well white people like to say “no! but look at you! you’re just white!” when i clarify the particulars here.

so, so very many white people often wanna tell me i am also white in the same way they are, very very much. and from white people who i thought didn’t roll like that, too! they’ve got a great-grandma who is 1/4 cherokee they tell me— why always cherokee i want to ask, but never do? i’m not cherokee, do you not know any other tribe names orrrr???— and it never stops blowing my mind.

anyway, the punchline to my mom’s story about people asking her what mixed race baby shop she found me in was her saying: ‘they’re my CHILD, THE END THAT IS ALL THAT MATTERS’ because in this story, she was a hero. this was not a story about gross racists. this was a story about how evolved she was for knowing my heritage didn’t actually matter.

when i say this show helps me handle the tension i feel, trying to urge well-meaning white people to Get With It, i so often mean ‘i want to love my family and be honest at the same time, this is so fucking hard what do i do and where are my people???????? i feel like maybe they’re not here’.)

so i get it: for white fans, this is Just Intellectual. they’re focused on the dates and times, and as far as they’re concerned the ravages of empire are a thought experiment; for me and many others, this is what made us who we are. 

seeing ed, a māori man with a mother who believed the lies the world told her and a white father who didn’t see the problem with any of this means a whole fucking lot to me. (and oh lord! don’t even get me started on why his dynamic with izzy is partially so fascinating to me because i can see myself in them both, depending on how i split my life experience between emotional realities and systemic advantages.) this show is the thing that’s gotten me to fucking ask myself “can i... even say i’m white passing? is that me lying, or is that me decolonizing my own fucking brain?” 

(my therapist: also very thankful. she keeps joking about sending the creative staff fruit baskets.)

so yeah anyway. this is just an emotional attempt to explain why the ed thing sucks from my adjacent lane, no big conclusion except:

i honestly don’t even care if white fans think i’m right? i just wish they would consider the deeper implications of the refusal to accept ed could be māori, and what it does to those of us who see ourselves in this show not simply because it’s Gay Pirates, but because it’s Intersectional Pirates.

[thesunmeltedthegrayaway]

All It Took Was A Twisted Ankle: Robby Keene x Reader Imagine

This is a request! If you would like to make a request take a look at (this post) for all of the characters I am currently writing for.

My Multi-fandom Masterlist

The request is for @gpiggy98​

​Robby Keene, he was a boy that just rubbed you the wrong way. You two were fire and ice, oil and water. You fought like cats and dogs and did everything in your power to piss the other one off. But at the same time, there was something that was so enthralling about him. It felt so strange how you could fight with him one minute and then find yourself swooning over his teasing smirk the next. So, you think that you would try to lessen the fights you had with him. But due to your conflicting emotions it somehow made you bicker with him even more.

People found your dynamic hilarious and sometimes painful to watch. Not because they found your bickering annoying, but because it was so obvious to everyone else around you that you two clearly had feelings for one another. But things are never as simple as they may seem to someone else. Certain people (aka you two) don’t exactly deal with emotions like that very well. You both complicated your emotions more than you should have. And at this point you thought it would take decades for you two to finally admit how you felt about one another 

But, the universe works in funny ways... who would’ve thought that all took for you two to finally get together was a twisted ankle?

~~~

Skateboarding, it was one of the things you did that cleared your mind easily. There was just something about it that just relaxed you. You could rant or yell all you wanted to, but nothing made you more calm than skateboarding. You never knew why but you weren’t going to complain. It was a moment in your day that just cleared you head. You didn’t have to worry about school, or troubles that plagued your mind, or... Rob-

“You follow me where ever I go Y/N?” You heard an all too familiar voice ask nearby.

You were on the edge of one of the steep ramps about ready to dismount off of it when you heard his voice. Your head whipped toward the sound of his voice. There he stood looking over at you with his usual jeering and teasing expression toward you.

“I was here first Keene, it looks like you’re the one following me.” You huff out in annoyance. 

He laughed at my already annoyed stated. “Whoa calm down Y/N, are you really getting angry already? I really have an affect on you I guess.”

You scoffed at his inflated ego (even though he technically was right about the affect he has over you.) 

“Yeah you do have an affect on me, but it’s not a good one!”

“Sure it isn’t a good one Y/N, sure it isn’t.” His voice was filled with humor, the smirk he sent my way made my breath stutter for a split second.

"Ugh, you are such a-” You began to rant breathlessly.

Your brain seemed to have forgotten that you were resting on the edge of the ramp. Your foot that rested on the front of the skateboard put a bit too much pressure onto it. You were suddenly sent down the ramp unexpectedly making you lose your balance. You felt my ankle tense and twist painfully as you landed onto the concrete.

“Oh fuck, are you okay Y/N?” You heard Robby asked from above the ramp. You weren’t use to hearing him talk to me in such a concerned way.

“What do you think?” You spat out, glaring up at him while gripping my ankle. You saw Robby carefully lower himself down to the bottom of the ramp. 

“Here let me help you out.” 

Your skin felt as though a bolt of electricity traveled through it when he touched me. You brushed his hands off not knowing how to react.

“Hey I’m trying to help Y/N, relax.” 

You couldn’t even look him in the eyes as he helped me up. Any words or reactions I had before just melted away. I focused my sights on my ankle that was now bruising and began to swell slightly.

“Just sit here for a second, it’ll be a bad idea to walk on it right now.”

“Okay.” Is all you could mutter.

You saw Robby’s shadow lean forward, you could tell he was looking at me.

“You sure had a lot to say before, I figured you would be ripping my head off by now.” Robby said, a laugh followed his sentence.

“I guess you’re getting lucky today.” You reply still not looking over at him.

“You’re wrong about that, I like how fiery you get because of me.” He admitted bluntly, taking you aback.

“Shut up.” You say with a nervous laugh. You locked eyes for a split second before your shot back down to your ankle. You began to feel your face heat up due to the situation that you were in.

“What? Are you getting flustered because of me?” He asked teasingly.

“No.” You say with a scoff.

“Then look me in the eyes then and say it. Say that you are not getting flustered because of me”

You slowly turned your head to look at him. As much as you wanted to utter the words he wanted you to speak you couldn’t. The more you looked into his eyes the more the tension and anger you felt just seemed to melt away. All you could do was sit there and bite back a nervous smile.

“I can’t.” You speak up after a bit.

“Why not?” He asked, his tone cocky and all knowing.

“Because I’d be lying.” You admit bashfully.

He let out a laugh making you fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“You’re still annoying though.” You added jokingly, it didn’t damper his mood at all.

“But that’s one of things you like about me right?” He asked cooly.

“I guess so.” 

“I knew it.” He said confidently.

A idea suddenly sprang into your head, you knew exactly what would bring him back down to Earth.

“Hey Robby?”

“Yeah?” He asked turning his head back to you. As soon as his head faced yours you pulled him in for a shocking kiss. He didn’t know how to react at first, he felt frozen and stiff. Much like how you felt earlier. He eventually got over his shock and finally began to react to the kiss. You both pull back slightly breathless, Robby’s face was stunned, his eyes slightly widened in shock.

You gave him a teasing smirk at his reaction before uttering. 

“I guess I know how to shut you up too.”

[travllingbunny]

Thank you for the tag, @ryder616!

This tag game has unexpectedly led to an interesting discussion about what exactly an “Endgame Ship” means... which seems to be largely open to interpretation. I’m still not sure how I see that term, but for the purposes of this post, but to narrow it down and not mention way too many ships, I’ll take Endgame in two different meanings: for “Favorite Ship(s) That’s Endgame”, I’ll take it to mean pairings that were together and in a happy relationship at the end of the story. But for “Ship(s) You Wish Had Been Endgame”, I will take “Not Endgame” to mean that the ship was not treated as these characters’ main romance at the end of the show, or at least there was a lot of ambiguity and/or a rival ship for one or both characters was instead the current one at the end of the story. (A lot of my favorite ships have the tendency to end up unhappily in spite of being portrayed as the main romance of the story..)

Warning: this post contains spoilers for Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Agents of SHIELD, The Hunger Games, The Leftovers, The Americans and The 100 (though if you’ve spent any time on my blog, you’ve certainly already been spoiled for the ending of The 100) and .

1. First Ship - When I was about 4 or 5, I was obsessed with Lady and the Tramp (I had a book version with a few pictures and it fell apart from how much I was reading it - it may have been my first book that wasn’t mostly a picture book), so I guess my first ship was two dogs (which is really appropriate, since I love dogs). If we’re talking TV, again going back to my childhood, before puberty and before I even knew what “shipping” was, I remember being pleasantly surprised when Raquel first appeared on Only Fools and Horses as a love interest for Del Boy - the show was an episodic comedy where the two brothers, in the early years, usually didn’t have a serious love interest. I thought “oh, he really is in love with her! And she feels the same, and they are so cute together.” I hoped she’d come back and wouldn’t just be a one episode character but a long-term LI. And then I was so happy when that very much did happen. I guess this can be considered the start of my TV shipping (and also an early sign of my love for contuinity and longer arcs on TV).

2. First OTP - Ignoring pre-puberty: at the age of 12, I was really obsessed with Wuthering Heights and Heathcliff and Cathy and read the book who knows how mny times. Regarding TV, I’ve shipped over the years, but I guess the first TV ship I would really call my OTP was in This Life, a 1990s UK drama about a bunch of 20-somethings in London, which I watched on TV in 2001. which now sadly seems almost forgotten. Anna and Miles had an on-off, love-hate relationship throughout - they were sexy, snarky, and it was painfully obvious that they were in love, but these idiots had trouble admitting it to themselves and even more to each other. If it had been a romcom, they would’ve been certain to end up together, but it was a realistic drama.

3. Current Favorite Ship - Bellarke - oh, what an OTP of all OTPs that was before it was stupidly destroyed out of spite. Over the last couple of years, Dark (season 3 mostly) made me really love Jonas and Martha (the first pairing I’ve made gifsets about), and most recently (last month!), I binged Halt and Catch Fire and fell in love with the show and with Joe and Cameron’s relationship (which, I just realized now, shows that my taste in OTPs hasn’t changed in 20 years).

If we’re talking current as in, in current shows rather than finished ones, then  Kanej (Shadow and Bone), Harlivy (Harley Quinn), Gereon and Charlotte (Babylon Berlin) and  Roy and Keeley (Ted Lasso).

4. Your ship since the first minute - I really rarely ship anything from the first minute (unless we’re talking Morticia and Gomez, who are of course already a perfect couple and nothing ever changes there). It usually takes time for me to fall for a ship. A rare exception is Roy and Keeley - their first one-on-one scene in S1 already had huge OTP vibes. 

5. Ship(s) You Wish Had Been Endgame - Do I even have to say it? BELLARKE. A hundred times Bellarke, who were portrayed as endgame before the showrunner decided to retcon and ruin them together with the show overall.

Others: Jessica and Luke in Netfix Narvel shows, May and Andrew on AoS, Willow and Oz; or, depending on how you interpret Endgame, Willow/Tara (some argue that it is Endgame as Tara is definitely portrayed as the love of Willow’s life regardless of everything else). Spuffy (again, there are different opinions as to its status as both the show and the comics ended ambiguously and tried not to have a clear Endgame pairing for Buffy’s character), Xander/Anya (if you take comics into account).

6. Ship You Wish Was Canon - Some would say Bellarke, again, but I tend to consider it canon. It’s debatable, for sure (if you only consider making out/sex and/or “I love you” as markers of canon, it is not canon; if it is enough for the show to make it so blatant in the first 6 seasons that you have to actively search for ways to deny it to make it sound platonic, and for actors to confirm it was portrayed as romantic- than it is.)

So my answer would be: Kastle (Netflix Marvel shows), QuakeRider (AoS), and Octavia and Diyoza (The 100) and maybe Faith and Buffy (mostly in the sense that canon could have explored the nature of Faith’s feelings for Buffy a bit more and a bit more openly).

7. Ship that Most of the Fandom Hates, but You Love - Angel and Darla, May and Andrew, Coulson and Rosalind (hated how it ended though). Miller and Bryan (because they were more interesting than Mackson, and Bryan had a personality), Though “ships that most of the fandom ignores” would be a more apt term. The one that most of the fandom does hate and I like it is Octavia/Ilian - I liked it for what it was, two damaged people finding comfort together in what could have grown into something more - instead of the “we’re ve just met and talked to each other once and we’re already IN LOVE!” trope that the writers of The 100 were so fond of.

8. You Don’t Even Watch the Show, but You Ship It - Why would I ship something from a show I don’t watch?

9. Ship That You Wish Had A Different Storyline -  BELLARKE (duh - the ending). Veronica and Logan (the ending, again). Coulson/Rosalind - they had such an interesting and fun dynamic that could have been explored much more; instead, the writers opted for one of the worst tropes there are, and I hated that entire plotline for so many reasons. Tyrol and Boomer on Battlestar Galactica - what they did with Boomer was crap. Baltar and Caprica - all the bad writing in season 4. This is a weird example of a ship that I shipped so hard for 3 seasons and that was given Endgame in every sense of the word, but, by that point, I barely cared anymore, because the writers forgot about their relationship throughout the final season and made it seem like they didn’t even remember each other, and then slapped a last minute happy ending. Plus they retconed/explained their connection in such a stupid and anticlimactic way that ruined it retroactively.

10. Favorite Ship(s) That’s Endgame - Everlark, Nora and Kevin (The Leftovers), Philip and Elizabeth (The Americans), and Josh and Della on Night and Day (a really obscure early 2000s UK show that was watched by maybe 100 people.) Some others worth mentioning: FitzSimmons, Niles and Daphne, Tim and Dawn (original UK The Office), Jake and Amy, Memori (the only bright spot in a rubbish ending). And of course, there’s Morticia and Gomez, though they are less Endgame and more AlwaysGame.

Tagging: @jeanie205 @kizo2703 @poppykru @sheigarche @weareagentsofnothing @sometimesrosy @misskittyspuffy @otp-armada @carrieeve @sexy-zeitreise-detektiv @jonaskanwalds @immortalpramheda @ladyofthefrostfangs @tennyo-elf @fandomkru @natassakar @hadrianvonpaulus @sillier-things @angearia @thekawaiislartibartfast @foolishnymeria @erikiara80 @heartbellamy and anyone else who sees this - sorry I didn’t tag you and please consider yourself tagged. :)

[amandaoftherosemire]

Hey Pretty

Fandom: Marvel AU

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Characters: Steve Rogers

Author: @amandarosemire

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8,133

Format: One-shot

Warnings: Smut, 18+ only, sexting, language, masturbation (male and female), descriptions of explicit images, sexual intercourse, minor dom/sub dynamics if you squint.

Summary: Steve wakes up from dreaming about you while away on a mission. Sexting and smut ensue.

A/N: I spent most of August working on getting back into writing in between catastrophes. Why this manifested in a smutty, fluffy bit of Steve fic, I don’t know, but I’m not really worried about it. I am a little concerned that this gives away that my kink is people doing what I tell them, but I also imagine I’m not the only one who think it would be a lot of fun to tell Steve Rogers what to do.

I had this done a while ago but hadn’t found a moment to proofread and post it because I started a new job. Then my state’s seasonal wildfires went crazy thanks to record winds and everything fell apart again. Then it settled into a white-knuckled waiting game while we literally prayed for rain. Now that it’s pouring once again, I could sit down for five minutes to shine it up and post it. I hope y’all enjoy. :)

Texts from you in Bold.

Texts from Steve in Italics.

Hey Pretty

The air was close and thick, each breath in hot and slow as syrup. Every one of those humid breaths carried the warm seductive scent of sweat and sultry sex into his head, his mind, leaving him lost. The taste of salt and sweet on his mouth vied with the sensation of silken skin as his lips and hands slid over soft flesh, seeking both to feel and be felt.

Soft whimpers and low moans poured into his ear along with gentle, demanding whispers that set his brain and body ablaze. Every part of him yearned to fulfill every request, satisfy every need. All he wanted in return was to saturate his senses in the endless pool of desire into which he’d fallen.

When soft hands slid into his hair to clench and grip, his willpower broke. As he moved to give in, to let himself be taken over by desire, by pleasure, he woke gasping and hard enough to cut glass.

Staring at the ceiling of a motel room he shared with a friend and teammate, Steve focused on keeping his breathing slow and silent. He didn’t want to wake Sam, whose soft, even snores sounded from across the room. He valiantly tried to ignore the fact that it would take maybe three strokes of his hand to finish what dreaming of you had begun.

Folding his hands behind his head, he attempted to put the dream out of his mind by going over the mission he’d be running in a few short hours. He failed almost immediately, his imagination too detailed, his senses too keen, his memory too clear. You haunted him.

He could too easily recall the scent of your hair, the softness of your skin, the sweetness that he'd discovered lay just a little under the surface. He’d only needed to scratch a little to find it.

Steve gave up and rolled to his side to snatch up his phone. He’d typed out I miss you and hit send before he could think better of it. As soon as it was gone, he wished the words back, still anxious about showing too much vulnerability, not to mention breaking protocol by texting anyone while on this mission. Doing quick mental math to figure out what time it was back in New York, he waited, a little worried, for your answer.

You have literally no chill, Rogers. You’re lucky you’re so sexy.

Steve grinned at your response, his tension dissipating in the rush of electricity he always felt when you teased him, your warm humor lighting him up, the first of a thousand things he’d fallen for. Any contact with you, any reminder of you could rocket through him and make him shine. The smell of your perfume, the sound of your voice, your words on a screen, anything you did filled him up and steadied him, no matter how empty or fragile he felt.          

Hey, pretty. I miss you too btw.

His heart sighed when your second text came through. You were sharp and strong and since the moment you’d come striding into his life in combat boots and covered in attitude, he’d been riveted, unable to resist you. When you’d turned the sweet sunshine beneath the attitude on him, he’d been captivated, unable to refuse you.

I was dreaming of you. Woke up and needed you.

Steve stared at the message for a moment with his heart pounding. He'd gotten better at this kind of honesty, but it still terrified to step out on the ledge. He hit send before he could rethink it and then rewrite it until he sent nothing at all. You'd never yet made him regret telling you how he felt. He was starting to trust that you never would.

Must have been some dream to have you breaking radio silence during a mission. Good? I hope?

He grinned, practically able to hear your wry, seductive tones as he read your message. That sultry, smirking attitude had drawn him in from the beginning and had only wrapped him more and more tightly the more time he spent with you. By the time he’d worked up the nerve to ask you out, he’d already fallen half in love with that alone.

Us. The night before I left.

His heart sped a little more at the images flashing across his mind. A mixture of the heated imaginings of his unconscious mind and the memories of the one and only night he’d spent with you had his skin running with heat even as the erection that refused to abate hardened almost painfully.

Ahhhhhh. I love it. Tell me everything.

Steve stifled a laugh at your answer. He’d swear he’d never met anyone like you. Tough and terrifyingly efficient during business hours, he’d never imagined the hidden depths he would find as you'd slowly let him in. Under that fierce exterior, he'd first found a warm and generous humor, then a soft and generous heart. He'd most recently been delighted to discover an avowed and generous hedonist in your bed.

I shouldn’t. I’m sharing a room with Sam.

He felt a brief twinge of regret, wondering what you'd have said or done if he'd told you about his dream, if he'd been alone and free to do so. The full intimacy that had just blossomed between you had followed an intense courtship where he'd learned how diabolically patient you could be. He'd long since discovered your ability to drive him wild from a distance.

You’re so fucking adorable. I bet you could get some privacy in the bathroom.

Heart kicking, Steve immediately moved to get out of the bed. Whatever you had in mind, he knew he needed privacy to deal with it. Not that he wasn't certain he'd like it. He always enjoyed letting you have your way with him, no matter the situation. Tapping out a quick reply, he moved as silently as he could to the bathroom.

Do I need privacy?

Shutting and locking the door behind him, he waited for your answer with bated breath.

For what happens next, yes.

Steve dropped down onto the closed lid of the toilet when his knees went weak. Anticipation had his heart already pounding in his ears.

Okay. I’m in the bathroom. What happens next?

His mind raced with possibilities as his skin ran hot. He’d learned from experience that you could always surprise him, especially with the creative turns your mind could take. He’d long since given himself into your hands with no regrets.

Turn the shower on cold.

At least, he’d had no regrets until now. Steve frowned at his phone but stood to comply with the command even as he hoped you weren’t about to send him into a cold shower. You had a wicked sense of humor so he wouldn't put it past you to be having fun with him.

Unless you want Sam to hear you.

Steve grinned, relieved and yet edgy, and shivered in anticipation. He could almost feel your breath on his neck, could almost hear the sultry undercurrent to your voice. He loved it when you had fun with him like this, was happy to take your orders, especially when those orders took on this tone.

At the end of your first date, you’d seen through him to the twitchy anxiety he'd been poorly hiding. Instead of the disdain he'd feared, you'd responded by taking his face in your hands to kiss him for the first time. That sweet first kiss had spun out when he’d forgotten his anxiety in the gentle press of your lips against his. He’d fallen completely under your spell when you’d whispered against his mouth, “Why don’t I tell you what I want, Steve, so you don’t tie yourself in knots trying to figure it out?” The relief he'd felt at the mere thought had allowed him to kiss you properly the second time.

Since that day, you'd made good on that offer in a thousand ways, leading him on a tempestuous journey of affection and fun with an honesty so sweet and hot that it left him putty in your hands. All you’d asked in return was that he be equally honest about what he felt, what he wanted.

Done.

Hands shaking a little, he kept his eyes on his phone as he waited for the next step. He was certain now you were about to lead him on an adventure. Though he knew he shouldn't follow, knew he could tell you he wasn't comfortable and you'd easily segue into something light and probably funny, he also knew he wasn't going to stop this. He'd told you he'd woken needing you; he wasn't surprised that you'd offer to give him what he needed.

Have a seat. ;)

The winking smiley face was your way of letting him know you were fully up to no good and if he wanted out now, he should speak up. He adored how careful you were to make sure he was fully on board with whatever you wanted to do. You took care with him but wrapped it in a warm humor that was almost as seductive as the tenderness underneath.

Now take that pretty cock out and wrap your hand around it.

Steve was grateful you'd told him to sit down as his knees turned to water in the rush of lust that blew through him. The hand not holding his phone moved to obey even as he let out a shuddering breath of reaction. Knowing he had to be quiet or risk embarrassing himself made his heart race in either anxiety or excitement, he wasn’t ever really sure when you tempted him out onto ledges like this. His chest tightened, his breath choking in his lungs, making him feel like he was on the verge of an asthma attack, if he still had those.

But every other time he'd followed you into this sensation, he'd found nothing but pleasure and passion on the other side. He wasn't going to back out now. As he pushed his underwear down his other hand tapped out a quick reply.

Yes, ma'am.

Steve's brain offered up the image of your slow, wicked smile whenever he gave in to your demands and his desires. He loved that his obedience to your commands brought you as much excitement as it did him. He loved knowing he could please you, loved that you never left him in doubt as to how.

You're so pretty. Does it feel good?

God

Yes

Steve didn't move, his hand wrapped around his cock but not stroking, not yet. Not until you told him to start.

Mmm. What were we doing in your dream the moment you woke up?

That 'mmm' stood in for the sultry laugh that came out of you whenever you were deliberately teasing him. The thought of that tease, that laugh had his dick twitching in his hand. You knew he adored the slow build, had taken your time working him up to the night he'd spent with you right before leaving on this mission. He'd loved every minute of it, thoroughly enjoyed the odd paradox of frustration mounting through repeated satisfaction. Making love to you, at last, had been glorious.

His breathing already ragged, the memory of that night in the soft romance of his dream drifted across his mind's eye. You'd been sweeter that night than he'd ever known possible, tender in your demands, gentle in your requests. A night unlike any other in his experience, he'd never expected the dark and debauched to be so bright and beautiful.

I was sliding inside you for the first time. I could have cried when I woke up.

Muscles quivering with the effort to stay still, Steve waited. He wasn't disappointed.

Pretty. Are you as hard now as you were then?

Almost

Oh, I wanna see. Would you take a picture? Send it to me?

Steve bit his lip to stifle the moan that wanted to lift out of him. He was more certain now that it was excitement, not fear, but he felt a prickle of anxiety run up his spine, nonetheless. Not only was he naturally shy, he was uncomfortably famous. He examined how he felt, and decided quickly, typing his response and hitting send just as a text from you came through.

Yes ma'am.

I'll go first, sweetie.

Steve quite simply melted. He adored the strong and sarcastic, but he had no defense against the sweet and kind. The way you’d asked combined with the endearment you only used when you were being particularly tender eased every fear, every worry. Still feeling shy, he nonetheless lifted the phone to snap a picture of his achingly hard cock in his still motionless fist.

As he was preparing to send it, however, your picture came through. He whimpered at the sight of you on his screen, pink and glistening. His hand reflexively tightened, and he started to moan aloud before he remembered himself. His cock hardened to the point of pain as he locked his muscles, resisting the urge to move his hand for a little relief.

Panting, he snapped another picture, knowing you’d love to see what the image of your fingers sliding over and through and into your pretty cunt did to him. He’d already been flushed and on the edge. Looking at you, remembering how you’d felt moving under his hands only intensified the sensation of aching need and the red heat that suffused his skin. He sent you both pictures with a text that read, How do you do this to me?

Mmm. Did my picture get you that excited?

God yes

You’re killing me doll

Me too sweetie. So fucking hot. Go ahead and start sliding your hand up and down that gorgeous cock of yours, pretty.

Steve shuddered in relief as he slowly began to move his hand, though the way you spoke to him had his stomach muscles tightening with lust. He bit his lip to hold back the moan of pleasure, the sensation made more intense by the wait. His eyes fixed on the picture you’d sent, he imagined replacing your fingers with his own.

I like that you were dreaming of me. I loved taking you. Being taken by you.

Another groan tried to escape as Steve tried to type despite the pleasure running over his skin. His hand moved faster as wetness spread over the head of his cock and eased the motion.

God me too. It was so good. I’ve dreamt of you every night this week.

"Oh, fuck!" Steve whispered the words in a voice tight with lust as his hand began to speed. You'd sent him another picture and the sight was more than he could stand. The photo was taken from the same vantage point he'd have if he was about to use his mouth on you, the memory of which had him thrusting mindlessly. The smooth columns of your thighs framed your pleasure as you arched under your own hands. Your body was bared and beautiful and your eyes glowed with power and promise. Slick and wet, his hand moved more quickly over his cock as memories of you over him, under him seared his mind.

Do you want to do filthy things to me, pretty?

Steve's mind exploded with possibilities and immediately triggered the climax he'd been trying to hold back. Reliving the glory of being inside you, of making you cry out in ecstasy, he came with a soft groan, shuddering as he coaxed every last quake of pleasure from his body. Panting and boneless, he lay in awe of your ability to wreck him even when you weren't there.

His hand shaking slightly, he tapped out the first thing that came into his head.

And you call me pretty. You’re so beautiful. I couldn’t hold back.

Too heavy for his neck, Steve let his head fall back, resting it against the wall behind him as he tried to catch his breath. He found himself once again awed and baffled by your ability to tempt him so easily into situations that he couldn't have even imagined before he met you.

Mmm. Are you a mess? Show me?

Blushing rosy red against the creamy skin of his face, neck, and chest, he lifted his phone to take another picture. Angling the camera to capture both his naked body and his shy smile, he snapped a photo he knew would make you crazy. You loved to see what you did to him, loved to see him sated, soaked in pleasure. When you went to such sweet effort to bring him to this point, he couldn't see how it was fair to deny you the evidence.

So sexy. I love it. I’m so close. Tell me about your dream

Steve smiled at your response, gratified by the knowledge that he could drive you as wild as you drove him. He wondered if you were making the little whimpers in your throat yet. He could always tell when you were about to let go, when he'd pushed you up and over the edge.

I was touching you. Sliding my hands all over you. You’re so soft.

Not sure how to continue, Steve hit send. The dream had been nothing but sensation, hot breath and slick skin. He paused a moment, considering the best way to describe for you the images his subconscious had conjured. As he weighed his words, a picture of you came through.

Tousled and smiling, your face had taken on that particular softness his perfect eyesight had memorized in recent weeks. Saturated in pleasure, your face only looked this sweetly relaxed after you were satisfied.

Mmm. Pretty. You fuck me so good, baby.

Steve laughed softly, exhilarated if a little shocked at how easily he always let you lead him into temptation, let you take over. Other attempts at relationships since he'd come out of the ice had always ultimately failed when he couldn't relax enough to be himself. But being with you was as easy as breathing, in no small part because you so confidently took command.

Looking down at himself, he shook his head at the mess you'd once again made of him.

How do you do this to me?

Standing up, Steve set his phone on the counter and glanced at the washcloth hanging on the towel bar. He figured he'd need a shower before he started the day anyway and it was close enough to dawn that he was done with sleep for now. When your message came through, he smiled at your unrelenting sweetness.

You let me. Don’t forget to turn the hot water on before you get in that shower.

Except I might still need to cool off.

Can’t argue with that. Go get the bad guys, then get your ass back to me.

Yes, ma’am.

Your heart kicked into high gear when you heard that the quinjet had touched down.

Steve was home.

Steve, with his serious eyes and hands so gentle it almost ached where he touched, would soon be walking through your office door for debriefing. And you were expected to cope with that.

Steve Rogers, a man with a heart as good as it was wild, was enchanted with you. The very idea was still largely inexplicable to you. You'd never been the sort to argue with a good thing, however, and you certainly weren't going to start now. What mattered was that you were making each other happy, that he was as sweet as he was sexy and you clicked in a way that you'd never expected but for which you were profoundly grateful.

That didn't mean that you knew how to handle it.

The whole thing had started so innocently, lunchtime walks over the grounds of the compound. Steve had started coming by your office in the middle of the day, his excuse that he wanted to make sure you weren’t chained to your desk, get you moving. You’d thought he was simply being himself, kind and caring and a little overly conscientious.

Over the course of those walks, however, you’d become friends, and dear friends, but you’d never expected anything more. He was so careful, so guarded, you'd never realized that you were seducing him with your playful teasing and genuine interest in the man behind the shield. When, after a couple of months of those daily walks, he’d asked you to dinner with the dread of rejection sick in his smile, you’d been completely shocked.

You didn’t know it, but your complete surprise at his invitation had been utterly unexpected; Steve had thought himself painfully obvious in his crush. Your astonishment, followed by a slow, delighted grin spreading across your face, had made Steve’s heart jump in anticipation. Your reply, voice full of fun and mischief, "Steven, I would love to have dinner with you; I like a pretty view while I eat," had made him blush and smile in a way that had made your heart pound like a drum.

That first date had been wonderful, an extension of those daily walks but with a new dimension revealed by the change in your relationship. You were flirting with purpose now, not simply to tease a friend. He was so adorable, you couldn't resist, his blushing, gratified smiles too tempting.

When he'd walked you to your door, the sick dread was back in his smile and you'd had an epiphany. Making the first move was agony for someone like Steve. Having to put his true self on the line to be accepted or rejected at the whim of another was a nightmare for him. You could see he was terrified of the moment he'd have to lean in to kiss you good night, dreading the possibility that you might turn him away.

As you reached your door, you'd turned to him with a sultry smile and slid your hands up and over his gorgeous chest, something you'd been fantasizing about for a while, until you had his pretty face in your hands. You'd pulled his face to yours and pressed soft, warm lips to his, kissing him firmly, but gently.

"Why don’t I tell you what I want, Steve, so you don’t tie yourself in knots trying to figure it out?”

The breath of relief he'd huffed out would have made you laugh if your mouth hadn't immediately been taken in the hottest, sweetest tangle of lips and teeth and tongue you'd ever experienced. His arms had come around you to cradle you against his body like you were delicate and precious and in that moment you felt it, certain you were already in over your head with Steve Rogers.

"I'd love that, doll," he'd whispered in return when the kiss finally broke, his breath ragged. "What do you want?"

You'd chuckled darkly at that, your body humming and blood rushing with lust. "I want to take you inside and have my wicked way with you," you'd brushed your fingertips over the nape of his neck and made him tremble, "but I think we should take it slow, take our time. So, I'll take another kiss like the last to keep me warm for now."

“Yes, ma’am.”

The smile that spread across his face right before his lips met yours told you that you'd made the right call. Steve was the sort that moved at a slower pace, needed room to feel. Over the next couple of months, you'd given him that space as you slowly deepened the intimacy between you, learning what he liked, teaching him what you liked. With only a little patience, he’d proven eager to learn and innately adept at the study.

As you’d become more physically familiar, you’d also explored the added emotional dimension to your relationship, the vulnerability that comes when you allow a friend to become something more. Not that you’d had reason to regret that decision yet, Steve having also proven a sweet and attentive boyfriend.

By the time you'd come together, you'd found a number of creative ways to satisfy both of you while still building the anticipation. The wait had ensured that you were physically comfortable with one another before you’d gotten to that last glorious night together.

You’d deliberately chosen a night before he left for a mission to invite him to stay, to make love with you and wake in your bed. You’d been unable to wait any longer, the desperate need too much to hold back, but you'd also wanted to keep the edge of his desire for you well honed. You hadn't considered what the enforced separation after such a night would do to you, too. When he’d broken radio silence to text you during a mission, you’d been both moved and gratified, but you'd also needed him with an ache you'd never known before. You'd been unable to stop yourself from using the opportunity to take the edge off.

You'd also been exasperated, radio silence had been placed on the mission for a reason, but that was professional.

No harm had come of it, but it was still a breach in protocol.

You looked up when Steve knocked on the door as he opened it, poking his head into your office, as had become his habit over the previous months. “Come on in, Cap," you said with a slow, warm smile. "Have a seat."

"Yes, ma'am." His eyes were hot as he settled into the chair on the other side of your desk. The words sent a shiver of lust up your spine and over your scalp when coupled with the sweet appreciative grin that lit up his face. You had to be ever vigilant lest you get lost in his ocean eyes. The man was unfairly pretty, hence the pet name.

The debriefing went quickly as the mission had gone mostly to plan. What few deviations had occurred were in minor variables and were easily documented. Steve didn't have anything to add to what you'd heard from Sam and Natasha, but you believed in being thorough. Once you heard it once more from Steve, you pushed all of it aside without a twinge of guilt. 

Before you moved on entirely, however, you fixed him with a gimlet stare. "I'm surprised I have to remind you of this, Captain, but radio silence was put on this mission for a reason." One eyebrow and the corner of your mouth lifted as he grinned at you.

"That takes care of business." You got to your feet and rounded your desk to cross to the door, flipping the lock as your heart started to race. "Now," you went on in a purr as you circled back around to slide into Steve's lap. Heart singing, you pressed your lips to his in a soft kiss. "Hey, pretty."

Steve was in heaven. He wrapped his arms around you to press you close and reveled in the feel of your body against his. Dimly, in a far-off corner of his mind, he wondered if he should be concerned by his tendency to get lost in you, the ease and speed with which you enthralled him. But you were nuzzling your mouth across his cheeks and mouth, seducing him all over again with sweetness, and he couldn't find it in him to care. "Hey, babydoll," he sighed happily as his eyes fluttered closed.

"So ya missed me, huh?"

Steve smiled at your playful tones but kept his eyes closed as he basked in the feeling of your mouth against his skin, of being adored by you. How could he not miss you when you made him feel this way? His voice a sigh, the sound made you tremble deep inside. "I did."

"I like that." Your voice throbbed with an emotion you weren't ready to name but knew you'd have to deal with soon. Steve seemed to hear it, as his eyes opened to see your face, his eyebrows quirking in question. Your smile twisted wryly as you shrugged a little. "I like being missed."

Steve's pretty face melted into a smile rich with affection as one of his big hands slid up your back, his warm palm between your shoulder blades and pressing you into his chest. His lips as soft as his touch, he kissed you with the same tenderness he'd shown you from the start, the same tenderness that had seduced you before you'd realized it was happening. You didn't know what he'd seen in your face to make him kiss you like this, but you weren't going to argue.

Your breathing ragged and your throat thick with that nameless, dangerous emotion, you broke the kiss to bury your face in the crook of his neck, brushing your lips over the soft skin under his ear. "I missed you too, sweetie," you whispered, your breath wafting across his ear and making him shiver agreeably. You could feel it, and it made you needy, made your voice turn husky with that need. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about those pictures you sent me."

Steve stretched his neck to give you better access, the sensation of your mouth on his skin a temptation he couldn't resist. Simply being in the same room with you was intoxicating; he’d already been hard as steel by the time you'd slid into his lap. Your touch, your voice, your scent, everything about you set him aflame. "You didn't keep them?"

"I told you; I'm the jealous type." You lifted your head to nip at his lips with a wicked smirk and eyes that burned. "I couldn't risk anyone else seeing them. Only way to be sure was to delete them."

The hand that had been squeezing your hip came up to cup your face when every part of him softened in adoration, appreciation. He wasn't the least surprised to find that you'd acted to protect him, but he was still deeply grateful. "I deleted yours, too." His mouth twisted when your eyebrow raised in mock suspicion. "Didn't want them falling into the wrong hands. Damn near broke my heart to do it, but…"

When he trailed off with a shrug, you tilted your head back and laughed out at the twinkle in his eye behind his look of broken-hearted regret. You combed your fingers through his hair, fisting your hands there and tilting his head back to smile affectionately into his gorgeous face. "I'll send you more, you pretty thing."

When his grin flashed, cheerful and sweet, you couldn't resist his plump, pink lips any longer. You took his mouth with yours, kissing him deeply, with heat. With purpose.

Gasping breaths inward escaped as panting moans as your mouths pressed and tangled together. You shamelessly rubbed your breasts against his chest as your hands began to skim over the muscles of his shoulders and arms. Your tongue curled around his as you encouraged him with your mouth and body to touch you more, kiss you harder.

Steve cradled you in his lap as gently as he could while still pressing you close, holding you tight. He knew his strength, tried to be mindful of it out of concern that he might hurt or scare you. Sometimes he thought he gripped too tightly, his mind so easily muddled by you, but you never complained.

In fact, sometimes you straight up ordered him to stop treating you as though you were as delicate as he knew you to be and touch you already. Sometimes, like today, you showed him your impatience physically, pulling at his clothes and arching into his hands. When you tore your mouth from his to scramble to your feet, he was confused for half a second before you were pulling him up with you.

"Doll," he breathed, his heart running away with him as you backed into your desk and boosted yourself up onto it, "I'm falling hard for you." You wrapped your legs around his hips as you fisted your hands in his shirt to drag him close. "I don't know if you want serious, but I can't help it."

Steve thought he'd just made a colossal mistake when your movements slowed and your eyes lifted to his, your face a study in consternation. His heart started beating again when your face softened into a smile and then a laugh as you lifted your hands from his belt to his face.

"I'm trying to fuck and you're trying to talk about our relationship." You pulled his mouth to yours and kissed him softly, sweetly, utterly charmed. "Steve," you crooned as you smoothed your thumbs over his cheeks, "my sweetheart." You huffed out a shaky laugh, the vulnerability of the moment hitting you all at once. Your mouth twisted with wry affection as your eyes searched his worried face. You went on, your voice an aching sigh. "I don't want you to help it. I don't know how to do serious, but I'm starting to think I'd do anything for you."

Steve felt the muscles in the back of his neck relax. On a sigh of relief, he rested his forehead against yours as the hands at your waist slid around your back to hold you close. He had known you wouldn't make him regret telling you the truth about his feelings, but he'd barely hoped that you would reciprocate them. He'd never anticipated that anyone could make him feel the way you did and was gratified to the bone that he could make you feel the same.

Arms wrapped around your back, one hand squeezing your hip, the other cupped around the nape of your neck, Steve kissed you. Slow, and gentle, he coaxed your lips apart like a man with nothing but time. His mouth brushed and clung to yours with a diabolical kind of tenderness as his body pressed more firmly against yours. Eyes bright and warm, he broke the kiss to smile and whisper, mild concern and confusion chasing one another across his face. "I know the feeling."

The relentless honesty that characterized Steve could be its own kind of trouble. He was in so many ways an open book, it made it easy for you to see the struggle he sometimes had with his emotions. On the other hand, you had only to pay attention to know what he was thinking and feeling. Steve, and everything he was, made you feel safe and secure in a way no one ever had before.

"Oh, baby, don't worry," you murmured, linking your wrists behind his neck and nuzzling at his mouth. "I'm as flustered by this as you are. I know you can't believe the things you'll do if I ask it," your voice dropped to a rasp as your thighs tightened around his hips, "because I can't believe it either." You shrugged, and you let him see how he dazzled you in your smile. "I talk a big game, but every day I'm stunned all over again that you like it. That you like me."

"You are so fucking sweet." Steve's voice was rich with wonder as he spoke. His eyes burned as he huffed out a laugh of astonished joy and his head dipped to yours. No longer slow and gentle, he kissed you with an urgent passion that you soaked up and returned with abandon. When his hand slipped from your hip to squeeze your ass and his lips grew hungrier on yours, you chuckled in your throat and let your hands drop back to his belt where you went back to unfastening it.

Steve couldn't stop the laughter that bubbled up at the sound of your dark glee and the feel of your hands teasing the erection behind his zipper. He lifted his head just enough to look into your face, the warm affection in his so pretty it made your throat ache. Your eyes fluttered closed as his lips brushed over your cheeks, but your hands went back to work on getting into his pants. He started chuckling, but that quickly turned into a low moan when your hands slipped under the waistband of his underwear to push them down. "I don’t just like you, doll."

“Good.” You replied with a nip at his lower lip as you closed your hand around an impressive erection. “Because I’m just crazy about you.”

Your smile as you caressed him was like nothing he’d ever seen before. Starting bright and happy, Steve was awestruck by the way your whole face seemed to shine with joy. In the next moment, your smile was melting into a look so hungry his cock hardened even more and his hips gave an involuntary thrust into your hands.

The sensation had you grinning recklessly as you twisted your hand around his length and made him groan. You lifted one hand to cup the nape of his neck to pull him forward for a kiss as his breathing sped in excitement. "Steven, I wore a skirt for a reason," you purred against his mouth and felt powerful as a goddess when his hands immediately left your hips to fumble at the long peasant skirt you'd worn. The feeling of his hips stuttering slightly as those hands closed around your thighs made you feel irresistibly sexy as well.

Being with Steve made you feel adored.

His mouth drank from yours with ever more urgency, even as he gripped your thighs more tightly and spread your legs to pull you closer. You encouraged him with murmurs of approval and gentle, teasing touches designed to inflame. His long fingers squeezed the flesh of your ass and legs as his body bent to yours, over yours. His thumbs caressing the insides of your thighs made you feel like you were going to fly apart and had your arm sliding around his neck to bring your body flush with his.

Steve tore his mouth from yours to gasp for breath. He buried his face in the crook where your shoulder met your neck and panted in excitement, in pleasure, the tremble of his lips against your skin sending shivers through you. "Babydoll," he whispered, the taste of you going to his head and muddling his mind, "I can't stop thinking about being inside you."

His thumbs had reached the apex of your legs and were brushing lightly over the soft skin he'd found there. His breathing was as ragged as yours, shuddering gasps of reaction mingled with moaning sighs of pleasure as the two of you touched one another. "Is this okay?" he asked gently, lifting his head to look into your face as one of his long, beautiful fingers slipped between your folds to tease at your entrance, to feel your wetness.

"God, yes," you moaned and made him smile. You were dazzled by the feel of him between your thighs, the sight of him flushed with his excitement and shuddering with need in your hands. When his thumb pressed you open and he circled your clit with the pad of his finger, your hips jerked forward in response, the sweet sensation of him gently caressing you so intimately overwhelming in its intensity.

Steve's hand slid down and he pressed into you with a soft groan of reverence, of hunger. You tilted your hips to allow him easier access, your head falling backward on your neck as you gasped with pleasure at the rasping sensation of one long, finger stretching you open. Your thighs tightened around his hips and your hand around his cock as you shuddered out a moan that made him crazy.

His mouth moved over your neck in desperate open-mouthed kisses as he reveled in the feeling of your wetness covering his hand. He loved feeling the proof of your desire for him. He loved that he'd brought you to this point, clutching at his shoulders and sobbing his name. He loved that you could so easily bring him to this point, panting with need and ready to beg. When your hand smoothed over his erection with a twisting motion and your lips at his ear whispered, "Play later, pretty. Inside me now," he could have promised you the moon.

He ever so slowly withdrew his hand from where he'd been pumping his finger slowly, gently in and out of your soaking pussy, dragging his fingertips over your clit as he went. The sensation was exquisite, prompting another gasping moan from you and making you fumble as you let go of his cock to bunch your skirt in your fist. You pulled it up and out of the way so you could see where you connected, wanted to watch him slide inside you. You wanted to imprint forever on your memory the image of Steve Rogers making love to you.

Tight t-shirt rucked up over a perfect stomach, belt and pants undone and pushed down below his ass with his underwear to reveal him flushed and shiny wet with anticipation. His hands, big and beautiful, gently held your thighs apart as his fingers pressed with just enough force into your muscles. The sight, along with that of his cock, hard as steel and pressing slowly into you, had your body clenching in need and your mouth running away with you as you rasped, "So pretty."

Steve flushed with the praise. As he eased into you, he marveled that his memory hadn't done you justice. He'd thought he remembered how good you felt wrapped around his cock, thought he'd remembered the ecstasy of the moment when he rested buried to the hilt, but he hadn't even been close. Once there, his hands left your thighs where they were wrapped around his hips. Skimming up over your waist, he took you gently in his arms, one palm on your lower back, one between your shoulder blades. Gasping for breath and grasping for control, he rested his forehead against yours and shuddered with restrained greed.

You wrapped your arms around the barrel of his chest and nuzzled under the collar of his t-shirt to brush your mouth across his perfect collarbones. Murmuring words intended to incite, you breathed adoration into his skin. "Sweet pretty Steve." You tilted your head back to look into his face. "You feel so good."  

The sight of your face, warm and soft with passion as you almost whimpered the words took Steve's breath away. Unable to help himself, his head dipped to kiss you as his arms tightened, his hands grasping you close as he started to tentatively thrust into you. You kissed him back, your hands avid as they clutched at his back and hips to encourage him to move faster, thrust harder.

You loved that Steve was as close to out of control as you'd ever seen him, loved that he was lost in you enough to move instinctively. He was still following your lead, but he wasn't thinking anymore, was letting his body rule. His hand slid down to close around your thigh to hike it higher, using the leverage to pull you onto him more forcefully. A happy squeal muffled by his mouth expressed your approval, as did the arms you wrapped around his neck to pull yourself more tightly against him.

Though Steve would have at least tried to go slow, you weren’t having it. You’d twined around him like a vine and were using your grip to rock your hips to his in abandon. The uncomplicated affection on your lips and the desperate need in your sighs of pleasure came together on his tongue to seep into his mind and send him reeling. Unable to stop himself, he gripped your thighs and ass to tilt you to the perfect angle for his relentlessly pounding hips and gave in. Groaning in his throat, he let your genuine passion wipe his mind clean of everything but you.

Steve's fingers were digging into your flesh with just enough pressure to feel delicious. His mouth was avid on yours and so sweet you had to tear yourself away to drag in a breath. You released that breath on a shuddering moan when he immediately buried his face in your throat to taste the skin over your pulse under your jaw. Your hands clenched in his hair and you rocked your hips harder and faster into his, chasing your climax. Steve was a perfect fit; you were fully enthralled with the sensation of his cock gliding into you, rasping out.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes," you chanted, each more frantic than the last, as the rhythmic slam of his hips against yours built you swiftly and steadily to peak. Hearing that you were nearing your climax, Steve lifted his head from where it was buried in your cleavage and pressing open mouthed kisses to the curves of your breasts. He loved to watch your expression while you came, loved to see you taken over by rapture, especially of his making. When you shuddered out, "Fuck me, baby," he knew you were close.

Steve's grin flashed and he started to thrust harder and faster into you, shaking your desk enough to knock a few things to the floor. The sound of soft thumps as a stapler fell to the carpet and pens scattered made you laugh. The thought that it was Steve Rogers you were fucking on your desk in the middle of the day met the joy of the moment and pushed you happily to the edge where need met satisfaction.

Pretty, sweet, reckless Steve with his bashful smiles and sad soldier’s eyes was building you to peak with ever more force and speed, about to send you tipping over that edge with flashing hips and a whimpering moan. You tilted your head forward on your neck to look into Steve's smiling, blushing face, his flashing eyes. With a sighed, "Pretty," you smiled as you let go and fell into rapture.

At the same time you spoke, Steve could feel the beginning of your orgasm fluttering and squeezing around him. His hands tightened around your thigh, your ass as he shook with pleasure at the sensation. The feel of you in his arms, clutching at him in ecstasy pushed him to the edge of his control. The sight of your eyes, glowing with pleasure both given and received, sent him tumbling over.

The beautiful groan Steve released as his head dropped to your shoulder made you tighten around him in every way. You gave in happily to the overwhelming urge to hold him close as he came inside you with stuttering hips and shaking limbs. Twining around him, you basked in the scent, the taste, the feel of him as you dragged him into the same spell that held you.

Everything about you softened like wax when he turned his face into your neck and nuzzled in with a sigh of contentment. He was holding you against him with that astonishing tenderness he possessed, cradling you in his arms like you were something infinitely delicate, infinitely precious. The sensation never failed to turn you to mush.

You combed your fingers through his hair and rubbed your cheek against his temple, holding him with the same tenderness he showed you, something he found utterly beguiling. He brushed his mouth over the soft skin of your throat and murmured in appreciation, "How do you do this to me?"

You couldn't help but love how that question had changed over time. At first, he had asked with concern vying with bafflement, but he'd come to ask with warmth, humor, affection. The answer had changed, too, from curiosity to pleasure to something more, something neither of you knew how to name. Not yet.

"I ask nicely," you replied with a smirk.

Steve burst out laughing and lifted his head to grin at you. You had a look on your face of such infinite tenderness, such warm wonder that his heart jumped and jumped in response to an emotion he wasn't sure how to describe, or if he was ready yet to do so. He pushed it aside, gloriously and willingly lost in you. "That would do it," he admitted with his heart in his eyes.

"In that case," you leaned forward to kiss first one side of his mouth, "would you like to come over for dinner," then the other, "stay the night?" Your eyelids dipped with a hint of shyness and made Steve's romantic heart yearn, inspired that still nameless emotion. "I really liked waking up next to you."

His eyes lit up in a way you'd never seen before; his smile was bright and joyous and made you want to promise him the world. Warm and affectionate, his expression held everything you could want as he replied, his voice low and full of fun. "Yes, ma'am."

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[theunconcernedembalmer]

what’s the issue with elisop? is it just bc you hc aesop as ace? im so concerned by seeing ppl adamantly opposed to mlm/wlw ships but im also genuinely curious about why you dislike it and other lgbt ships so much lol

hmm. that is a strong accusation, n i find it just a bit odd. are you new here? or perhaps you are taking personal offense at my dislike towards a favourite ship of yours and using the lgbt argument as moral high ground?

whatever the case may be, i thank you for asking. if u r truly looking for an answer, its below the cut n it is very very long. mind u these are all my personal opinions n i am in no way policing how others enjoy ships. just in case this wasnt clear; i dont wish to start discourse on this blog, especially since my takes are probably... unpopular.

firstly i would like to address the “disliking lgbt ships” bit, because this has very strong implications in itself. i have nothing against lgbt ships. i enjoy them, even. if the two characters have chemistry between each other, i ship it. however, the moment characterization is broken for the sake of romance, i lose interest. this is generally my stance on ships in general, n this applies for both straight n lgbt ships. 

the ships themselves are fine. however, i do have issues with the ship dynamics, so ill let u in on that.

i want to touch on mlm ships in particular; i believe u are familiar with the top/bottom dynamic that is rampant in these kinds of ships? (i wont deny that this dynamic can be found in other types of ships, but for arguments sake i will be focusing on gay ships because i feel that this occurs more commonly here) its such a popular dynamic that is prone to stripping the personality from one if not both characters, only for them to be reduced to being dominant/submissive. for a character to be pigeonholed into a stereotypical category based on... preferred sexual positions? its just downright insulting, never mind the larger more problematic implications of it. top/bottom is not indicative of someones personality, by the way. flattening multi dimensional characters into these stereotypes is so so so insulting.

unfortunately this is The Most Popular portrayal of just about any gay ship around. ive seen it being used everywhere in so many fandoms n it just about becomes apparent to me that ppl come to stories looking for a Ship. not the stories, nor the characters, just a ship. while id like to say theres nothing wrong with that, keep in mind not everyone is just looking for 2 characters that look pretty next to each other. if i ship something, i see interesting n meaningful interactions between 2 characters, which is so often not the case once u bring in the top/bottom dynamic. why is it so popular? because somehow this is what ppl like from a gay ship n hence it sells. ppl want the drama, characterizations be damned. ppl want to see the big kiss that happens in the end, n maybe the sexy parts that come after. characterizations be damned.

so u can say im a little wary of gay ships when they cross my feed. hell, as a joseph aesop shipper i see this trope everywhere n im pretty disappointed as well. small tangent but i feel like this is the reason why zh0ngli n ch1lde is so popular in g3nshin. i try to see the appeal, i really do, but after a long while of analyzing their respective characters i dont think they have as much chemistry as ppl think they do. dont even get me started on how incredibly ooc they make either of these very interesting n unique characters in ship portrayals. all because of the top/bottom dynamic that ppl want to see. i say this for that particular ship, but this is pretty much the case for a lot of ships out there, n the latter part is painfully true even when the 2 characters do have potential between each other. ill say it again im disgusted by the blatant disrespect to the characterizations if all ppl ever want is 2 pretty puppets to mush lips together. cos thats what theyre essentially reduced to this way.

n its so obvious to see when an artist subscribes to this rhetoric, because u can so clearly see it in the way they draw their characters. the “top” generally has sharper features to go with their “dominating personality”, while the “bottom” has disturbingly softer, feminine, dare i say sometimes child like features “to submit”. n thats where the uwu soft gay trope comes from, i believe. which, in case u still dont know, i hate with a burning passion.

so again for ppl with impaired reading comprehension, im fine with ships, including lgbt ones, but the moment u break characterization for the sake of the ship, im not that okay with it. u want to do it for a short crack comic? fine. but if thats the only way ur portraying the 2 characters then im immediately wary of ur content. ill still look at it cos usually the art is really good, but im very very wary. so im not “adamantly opposed”, just very critical of how the ships are being portrayed. if other ppl want to enjoy their ships like that, sure. just dont expect me to join in on something i dont agree on.

.

now id like to address not shipping “because i hc aesop as ace”. for ppl who are new to the blog (hello there), im an ace in a romantic relationship, so thats definitely not the reason i dont ship elisop. its more of being in a relationship has largely shaped my views towards romance as a whole. even before i met my boyfriend, i hated the romance genre in stories n media. most of it comes off as incredibly forced, especially those love triangles they seem to love putting into teen novels. thats one reason why i stopped reading when i was younger, but i digress.

did i partake in shipping when i was younger? i did. for a gay ship too (if anyone really wants to know, its kurotsukki from haikyuu. at least this was one that i can remember, i was mostly working on my 20 odd ocs for the longest time). i also used to write little short romance ficlets that i never posted anywhere cos i hated (n still do hate) my writing. but writing romance when u dont have experience was really just a way of projecting n probably a way of coping for myself, not that i knew at that time. but after i actually started a relationship with my boyfriend (whom i love n cherish a lot thank u very much), i began to see how much all these have skewed my views towards romance n have actually done some harm to our relationship. the bullshit that the general media feeds u constantly doesnt help in the slightest either.

quick topic shift to elisop in particular (about time, right?). i already stated that i only ship characters if i sense chemistry between the two personalities, n if u have seen the part where i dont ship elisop then u must have seen how agonized i am over not being able to have a concrete personality for eli. that is the main problem i have with elisop: eli does not feel like a solid character to me. n that is a huge problem, because if he doesnt have any defining characteristics besides being mild n nice, then he can be whoever i want him to be. (i have done this in my exorcist comics, i will admit this. n the fact that i can just do that... it really does not sit well with me personally.)

n that is dangerous.

back to young me doing lil ship things. i think its also pretty safe to say when u really do ship 2 characters, chances are u kinda really relate very very hard to at least one of them. that very quickly can turn into projecting, n shipping therefore is not “exploring the relationship between 2 characters” n it becomes “my preferred dating simulator 101″. of course this isnt always the case, but at least it was for me, n subconsciously it might be for lots of ppl too. n since this is ur mental playground, u call the shots, n there is no consequences if u slightly (or even entirely) alter one or both personalities to fit ur desired narrative. n u wouldnt even notice or know, cos ur blind to ur own biasness.

we bring our perceived notions into real life, im sure u know that. so when ur partner does not become that perfect knight in shining armour, or when they get upset at things that u do (which is a very normal thing by the way), n u think (very subconsciously), That isnt what my otp would do, something is wrong here (nothing is wrong, actually its just ur skewed perception of a stable romantic relationship). why wouldnt ur otp do this? because u are both halves of ur otps, there is no hidden secrets between them (apart from the pining part but thats irrelevant), n again they have been altered to fit ur preferred narrative. 

a real relationship requires a lot of communication between parties, because newsflash, liking someone doesnt mean that u have to like every single thing they do, they will make mistakes n it will hurt u, n guess what, the reverse is also true. if u do go with absoutely anything that they would do with 0 objections whatsoever, ur not crushing on someone, ur idolizing them, n that power imbalance is detrimental to a relationship. these things are not obvious to ppl, especially when the whole climate is hell bent on getting into romantic relationships by a certain age or some bullshit. communication is key n is pretty much the only way to solve relationship issues, because the other person has a lot that u r not seeing n vice versa. as similar as 2 ppl can be, i doubt u can have 100% the same thoughts on all things. i dont make the rules.

so in ur mental playground u focus on the fluffy parts, maybe there is communication, but rarely is there any meaningful conflict. thats unrealistic, n if u bring that mindset to an actual relationship, thats not going to end well. i say meaningful conflict, because yes, generally u shouldnt have conflicts with ur significant other. but inevitably when ur with each other for long enough, u will realize that there are habits that u must change in order to be with the other person. habits that are harmful to the other person directly, or harmful habits towards yourself that indirectly harm the other person. these are meaningful in a sense that if left alone, it will manifest into larger problems that will harm u, the other person n the relationship as a whole. its meaningful to the relationship.

all these is made even worse if ur neurodivergent. maladaptive coping practices, self sabotaging behaviours, inherent disabilities. all these must be adjusted n addressed. im so incredibly thankful for my boyfriend for being incredibly patient with me when working all these out, n it has not been easy for me to work on myself n all my problems, n im still not done working on them. this aspect is often not explored in romance in general (or properly), n there is a very good chance i would have still been stuck in the unhealthy mindset of “this isnt like my otp, maybe we’re not meant to be”. because loving someone is a choice. no one is made for each other, it is a conscious choice made between 2 ppl to make things work. this is how arranged marriages work, i am told, n i do see the appeal, not that it actually does appeal to me culturally.

special mention to the kurotsukki ship, cos from there i found a very, very good fic that explored their relationship before n after getting together, n it actually showed aspects of this problem in the incredibly slow burn of (at that time) 20+ chapters. it was just one fic (n a very good one at that, i believe it was called Leviticus), but it had a lesson i never thought i needed to learn, n learn it i did, with a lot of help from my dear. 

this is also probably the reason why i dont really want to delve too much into romance now. i know its a lot of work, n everything (mostly) that the media feeds u is really false advertising, but ppl eat that shit up n so it remains one of the most popular genres to date. im just very wary that if i do start on a romantic story, i want to be able to show it in a way like that fic did, the truths of relationships, because i dont want to make something that sells, i want to make something that meaningful to me, if a little indulgent. n that also includes being very careful in how the respective characterizations will change in a relationship. almost too careful now that i think about it, but its not something that i mind. i was never one for romance from the start, n now im very careful about shipping because of what happened to me persoanlly.

okay enough about me, lets talk about aesop. in any au u put the character in, the essence of the character must remain despite the change in environment. so lets say we have ur typical modern au. dead mom, check. shitty mentor doing illegal stuff? also check. autistic boy with social anxiety? we’re good to go. all these have implications on aesop as a character, n while ppl are aware of this, again the way they go about portraying it can go, in my personal opinion, very wrong. ppl who immediately woobify aesop completely because he has autism annoy me. ppl who reduce him to uwu soft boi cos he has social anxiety do not know how the disorder really works n as someone who has that i hate it to the core. ppl who do all these for the sake of ship have lost my respect. its insulting.

remember the top/bottom dynamic? not that elisop is completely free from that (even if i dont know much about eli, to put him in either one of those stereotypes feels very insulting to his character. i wont even say anything about doing it to aesop its so upsetting), but its not entirely made up of either. but now i want to introduce another trope i am very wary of, which is “i can fix him”. im sure u guys have seen the meme going around poking fun at this trope (for those who havent, its along the lines of “u can fix him? well i can be his worst nightmare”) n no doubt yall would have seen it n gotten sick of it in some forced hetero romantic bullshit. we have one damsel in distress with a saviour that solves all their problems just by existing n being romo with each other.

remember “my preferred dating simulator 101″? this is not mutually exclusive n from my point of view this is dangerously close to this trope. lets be real, if it was actually a thing that all ur deep rooted trauma magically disappears if someone were to waltz into ur life, we would want it. definitely. no painfully dissecting ur own problems n constantly facing them head on. real life states that this is not the case, but it will not stop us from dreaming. n so this trope is born n lives n will go on.

(finally) pulling aesop n eli into this, at least in my mind, u have one severely traumatized boy with lots of issues n u have this. nice mild guy who can be anything u want him to be. i hope u can see where im going with this, n thats the direction i see some elisop heading towards (i dont read a lot of elisop to be fair). if u came from my eli character talk, i mentioned that it is incredibly one sided. this is exactly what im talking about.

putting it all together in case u havent already, aesop is the damsel in distress, whose problems magically disappear because of elis godly kindness n little to no work on improving himself, n they lived happily n gayly ever after.

can u tell how much that does not appeal to me. 

never mind the butchering of character that inevitably happens somewhere somehow, the unrealistically perfect themes n implications of this trope makes me so viscerally uncomfortable. this is, of course, due to personal reasons, n i definitely see the appeal of this dynamic because i would probably have been interested in this once upon a time as well. but as i am now, with everything i have explained up there n everything i have been through, i would politely rather not.

n its difficult to think of another dynamic, because of how little i know about eli apart from him being this saint, which easily makes him a candidate for being aesops trauma panacea. never mind aesop rarely, if ever, does anything for eli as a character in return, n its so damaging to buy into this rhetoric, where a person like this who would solve all ur issues no strings attached exists somewhere in the world. they really dont. a relationship has to be mutually benefitting, or it will be draining n disastrous. maybe u say, Oh its nice to imagine it once in a while. n yeah, i agree, except once in a while is a little difficult to keep track of n that is sort of what happened to me. id rather stay as far away as possible from this kind of unrealistic fantasy, i just got this shit sorted out with myself n my boyfriend.

i have some other reasons, but theyre more personally problematic, so i wont go into them here. but this is mostly n generally why i do not ship elisop romantically. if u do, u do u, and have fun, but again dont expect me to join u. thank u for coming to my ted talk, this took a lot longer than expected.

[scrawnytreedemon]

going off that last ask: loz/yazoo character opinion? i wanna read your thoughts!

Ohooooo, I was waiting for something like this!!! Thank you, Vee :) I’ll do my best to explain <333

Starting off with Yazoo:

First impression: Calm, level-headed, perhaps a bit shy. What surprised me the first time watching was how deep his voice was. He’s got this grace about him that leaves you simply... staring. I interpreted the introductory scene where Loz nearly cries and Yaz tells him not to as comforting-- Which I think is what a good chunk of Rem fans see it as? Overall, pretty, but not much else.

Impression now: I think he’s fucking ruthless under that dainty face, if you ask me. Honestly, it’d be right in line with Sephiroth. I think out of the both of his brothers, he gets along better with Kadaj, but if he wasn’t around, I doubt Yazoo would have nearly enough investment in their quest. He comes across as apathetic and uncompassionate, perhaps even a little haughty. I feel like his relationship with Loz is tolerable at best, and downright acidic at worst. With Loz being the way he is, I wouldn’t be surprised if Yazoo and Kadaj had to keep an eye on him at all times, just in case. I feel, though, at the end of the day Yazoo does care about his brothers, and would risk his life for them. It’s in his bones, and he can’t help it, whether he likes it or not. Still very pretty though, lmao.

Favourite moment: Been forever sinced I watched Advent Children, and, unfortunately, Yazoo my beloved doesn’t get many scenes. I’ll have to go with the introductory scene, as it gives us an idea of who they are and what their dynamic is like right off the bat.

Idea for a story: I feel like any story with Yazoo inevitably ends up involving Loz, so I’ll make a joint bullet-point for them at the end of the post <3

Unpopular opinion: Mmm, probably the more apathetic, if not downright spiteful characterisation. If my friend @vesaniens​’s experience is to be believed, then at least Back In Her Day it was far more common for Yazoo and Loz to be buddy-buddy while Kadaj goes off and does his own thing. I can see the appeal in that dynamic, and understand where it comes from. There’s alot of ways you can interpret ‘don’t cry, Loz,‘ and as it is the introductory scene, however you do sets down the foundation for all that follows.

Favourite relationship: The Remnants aren’t characters I can find preferable ships for in-canon, so romantic is off the table here. I will say, though, a dynamic where Genesis and Yazoo are mentor and mentee would be downright tooth-rotting. Genesis preening him, taking him out to nice places, showing him fine literature-- I love it! I don’t see much talk about how the Remnants would relate to Gen and Geal, and I think that’s a damn shame. Plus, Yazoo can then quietly rub it in either of his brothers’ faces whenever he gets annoyed with them. To pick another, though, definitely him and Loz-- Especially if it is strained. It’s very clear they’re meant to contrast each other. Yazoo is lithe, subtle and venemous; Loz is big, loud and sensitive. I personally have a huge soft spot for fics where they recouncile their differences and learn to truly love each other.

Favourite headcanon: Honestly, I feel like I need to make a general headcanon post for the Rems as a whole. They’re all inherently tied, so a change to one of them usually affects the other two. To touch up on one from a theory I read about a year ago now(God, has it been that long?), I like the idea that the Remnants got a little bit of Genesis and Angeal mixed in. They’re like 90% Seph, give or take, but the other 10%~? Now that’s where the fun begins baby!!! In this case, the donor would be Genesis, and Yazoo would’ve gotten the more passive-aggressive, snarky, preening aspects of his character. The resentment and feelings of  inferiority towards Sephiroth end up getting mixed into Kadaj, however I don’t want to elaborate on this too long lest I go off-topic. On a more crack-heavy note, I feel like if you waved a laser-pointer in front of him, he’d be transfixed. He’s too dignified to actually leap at it... But he likes watching :)

Now, as for Loz:

First impression: Big phuckign himbo, idiotte of a man. Probably can’t even buckle his own boots. Playtime??? Bitch NO, it’s not playtime! WHY ARE YOU CRYING??? But yeah, my initial view fell alot more in line with what I think is the most common interpretation of him. His excecution leans heavily to Big Dumb Idiot Man Who Cries When He Sees A Duckling.

Impression now: Baby. Poor fucking baby. Honestly, that could be said for all the Remnants, but I don’t think Loz’s struggle is discussed nearly enough. I’ve talked about this before, but, for me, it’s painfully clear that Loz is essentially a child in a grown man’s body. Writer Kazushige Nojima has Loz’s lines about playing during his fight with Tifa were based off his own son, and has described him as “missing a little something upstairs” --And looking at him through that lens, things become alot more disturbing. He’s Sephiroth’s love for Jenova; a doting, yearning, infantilising love. There’s an innocence to Loz, something sweet, something light and airy-- And to have him fight, have him torture, have him kill... just, man. This jarring dichotomy between such hulking, brutal strength, this bringer of destruction, and this kid who wants his mother. Is he aware? Does he truly understand the weight of his actions? Can he? Most of this, admittedly, is a bit of a stretch, but I love this doof alot jhdhjfdjhs can you blame me?

Favourite moment: Oh, definitely the crying scene-- You must be real tired of hearing that again. Though, in Loz’s case, it sets up his sensitivity, and his dynamic with his brothers-- Yazoo in particular.

Idea for a story: Same answer as Yaz.

Unpopular opinion: I think my more infantile view of Loz as a whole is semi-unpopular? Fandom seems pretty split on whether he’s just a himbo or actual babyman. Again, hard to tell, what with most Rem content and discussion being several years old and tricky to find. I’d be curious to have a discussion on this! But yeah, if we’re talking about the wider fanbase, I think my intense appreciation of him is definitely unusual. Alot of OG fans see the Rems as tropey villains, and while I will argue that it makes sense considering they’re fragments of a bigger, badder, more complex villain, I don’t think Loz is nearly as shallow as most would have you believe.

Favourite relationship: As discussed with Yazoo, there aren’t any canon characters I consistently ship the Remnants with -- Especially not for Loz, in particular when viewing him through that youthful lens -- Though as with everything, I am flexible :) On the platonic side... Honestly, I think Loz would just be a big softie who hangs around everyone. If Angeal was baking, Loz would definitely chip in to help, though he might cause more trouble than if he stayed aside. I think he’d try and reach out to Sephiroth, only for his affections to be rejected because the latter is Bad With Emotions and is torn between on whether the Remnants are a nuisance he hands off to his old friends or his children who he wants to scoop up and carry off into the vast cosmos.

Favourite headcanon: Loz eats alot of shit he isn’t meant to. Like, shit that would kill twenty grown men. At least once he has mistaken stinging nettle for mint, and spent the next two or three days scraping his tongue constantly. Would chase a ball if thrown, no questions asked; try playing frisbee with this dude, and you’ll end up on the other side of town by the end of it. If you try and pick him up, he just slumps, like a big, brawny ragdoll cat-- Probably purrs like one, too. Definitely appreciates a good scratch behind the ear :)

There’s like... probably mountains more, but this is what I’ve been able to coax out after a day of writing this on and off. Again, thank you so much for asking!! I’ve been meaning to ramble about the Remnants for ages now, but didn’t know how to go about it.

Aight, as promised:

Story idea: This is one I’ve had on my mind for years now. I haven’t gotten around to it, as it’d require greater familiarity with FFVII’s world as a whole, but the premise is that Yazoo and Loz escape far out into the countryside, and end up in a village. Yazoo soon falls ill, and Loz has to provide a living working for a local farmer. Their dynamic is initially strained, and without Kadaj to hold them together, they nearly end up splitting before arrival. As time passes, and as they grow closer to the community, Yazoo’s grumbles fade into concerned murmers. Slowly, he begins to trust Loz more, and Loz learns to take more responsibility. But as their friendship blossoms, Yazoo’s body withers. Bedbound, he wonders how Loz would fare without him, if he could make it. I imagine this ends up leading to Loz deliberately blowing their cover to get needed medical help from WRO, turning themselves in during the process.

Again, there’s probably more to it, but to be honest even I don’t know. That’s the great thing about creativity :) You never know where you end up!

Thank you for asking, and feel free to ask more if you’re curious! This goes for elaboration on characters already asked, certain headcanons, and even pairings! Also, feel free to add on with your own thoughts! Whether they be additions, refutations, or so on. Fandom discussion(provided it’s civil qwq) can be so much fun!

<333

[angelofbenignmalevolence]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Gordon Tracy Additional Tags: Near Drowning, Angst, Near Death Experiences Summary:

There are those that say that drowning is peaceful…Gordon Tracy respectfully disagrees. Gordon Tracy knows that drowning can be the most painful experience without ever being dealt a physical injury…

Thanks to @misssquidtracy and @agentfreelancer1 for laying eyes on this and giving me the confidence to post it!

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The abrupt turnover from the weightlessness of dreams into the full force of consciousness is a rough transition at the best of times. It is made even more jarring when a person wakes in an unfamiliar setting. It is made almost unbearable upon the realization that every breath taken in burns to the core.

It took Gordon Tracy much longer than he would like to admit to himself to piece together his situation. His vision took a moment to clear. He pulled the blanket down from around his face, using it as a way to clear the sleep from his eyes. He looked around. The room was a sterile white with curtained partitions. There was no doubt in his mind that he was in a hospital.

He tried to sit up and immediately he was struck with the notion that it wasn’t necessarily his brightest idea. The muscles in his torso screamed protest in the form of a searing ache that spread through his chest. He gasped in a breath at the sudden pain, only for that to bring its own punishment. Fire burned through his body and he dropped leadenly back onto the pillows.

Is this the end? Gordon thought to himself. The last time he had known a sensation as bad as this had been in the hydrofoil crash. He had thought that he was dying then as well. He took small sips of air as his body began to calm, the pain subsiding into a duller, more manageable ache. It gave Gordon plenty of time to reflect back on the events that led up to this. Everything was fuzzy in his mind.

He remembered a sinking ship…in the Atlantic? The North Sea? He remembered that it was cold and…the storm. Yes…there had been a storm. A big one. With violent waves. Thunderbird 4 had had trouble stabilizing in the rough seas as Gordon had worked to rescue those in the water and Virgil had worked to rescue those still on board the sinking vessel. But no matter how hard Gordon tried he couldn’t remember anything else. Everything was a blur.

He heard the echo of heels on linoleum, and for a moment Gordon realized how preternaturally quiet this wing of the hospital was. In every hospital he had ever been in, there had been the hum of nurses and the whirring and beeping of machinery, but here, there was no hum of ambient noise, just the steady footfalls of someone approaching his room.

He tried once more to sit up at the approach, slower this time. He didn’t know why he was here, but a bright smile and a bit of playful flirting couldn’t hurt his chances of getting out of this bed early on good behavior. He forced himself to lean back naturally against the back of the hospital bed.

Sensible black kitten heels were the first thing Gordon saw peeking under the curtain. Gordon frowned slightly. Neither the shoes nor what he could see of the legs that were covered only in pantyhose suggested that he was about to receive a visit from a nurse. Those were the trademarks of a lawyer or a reporter…unless…could it be?

Had Lady Penelope come to visit him in the hospital? The thought simultaneously thrilled and horrified him. He loved the thought that she worried enough to come visit him, but a part of him cringed at the thought of her seeing him like this. He wondered if he could get away with pretending to be asleep.

The curtain began to slide open. Gordon caught the flash of a sleeve in a very pale purple color. Lilac his brain supplied, though he was more preoccupied with the fact that the sleeve, its color and texture and the shine of its buttons, was somehow both altogether foreign and yet intimately familiar to him. His mind hazily cast about for memories just out of reach even as the curtain continued to open.

Lilacs…little purple flowers…a suit in a matching color…brown hair…a halo of white…white and wood…a coffin?

Gordon’s stomach dropped. Any breath inside left him in a whoosh and, for a brief moment it was as if the whole world dropped away. His eyes locked with the eyes of the woman on the other side. The corners of her mouth turned upward into a pitying smile. Gordon’s mouth ran dry and his throat suddenly felt too closed up to function. There were several moments of stunned silence before Gordon was able to make his throat work.

“Mom?” The voice that escaped him was not the voice of the charming and daring International Rescue operative he had grown into, but the soft uncertain voice of a child.

“Hello, Gordon,” she said, moving to Gordon’s bedside. She sat down and Gordon exhaled shakily. He felt her weight on the bed, could feel the warmth rolling off of her even through the thick hospital blankets.

“Mom…I…I don’t…understand,” Gordon said. His heart ached and his mind whirred too quickly to get a sentence out in its entirety. She shook her head sadly.

“You’ve grown so much…” She reached forward to push a few stray locks of sandy hair from Gordon’s face. The brush of very real and very warm fingertips against his temples had a sob ripping from Gordon’s throat. Lucille drew Gordon into her arms and held him, just as she had done all those years ago when she had still been able to.

Gordon felt the rush of emotions pouring forth as he pulled his mother against him with an iron strength. Flashes of images played across his vision, blurred through tears that fell freely as he buried his face in her neck. Memories began to overwhelm his senses. Memories of peering into tidal pools at the beach, of learning to swim in the kiddy pools, of kisses on scraped knees and of falling asleep in his mother’s lap as she read to him before bed. Memories of the excitement before the fateful trip. Memories of a broken Virgil, his young mind falling easy prey to the survivor’s guilt that haunted him into his adulthood.

Memories of lowering his mother into the ground. Of the sky weeping as she was lowered into the grave. Of a family dynamic shifted by her premature departure from the earth.

Gordon wept as he once again was able to hold his mother in his arms. She made soft, soothing shushing noises, rocking him gently as she had done when he was young. He looked up at her, taking in every feature. She was just as he remembered her. The light dusting of freckles across her cheeks. Her warm eyes that used to dance as she laughed. There were so many things he wanted to ask her, so many words that raced to his lips.

“Am I dead?” It wasn’t the question he had expected to come out first. Lucille shook her head.

“You aren’t dead. Not yet, my little guppy,” she said, her hands continuing their soothing circuit from his hair to his shoulders and back.

“How are you here?” Gordon asked. Lucille considered her son for a moment. When she had last seen him, he had been a child. But Gordon was no longer a child. He had grown in strength. As much as she wanted to protect him from the painful knowledge he sought, she knew that it was no longer an option. Gordon was old enough to know the truth.

“You are in the in between,” she said. Gordon’s soft brown eyes looked back at her uncomprehendingly.

“The…in between?” he repeated. Lucille nodded and looked out to the hall, as if hearing something that Gordon couldn’t, “What happened, mom? Where are the others? Where’s Virgil?” Lucille’s eyes closed in pain.

“You nearly drowned,” she said. Gordon’s heart skipped several beats painfully.

“D…rowned?” Lucille took his hand and looked him in the eyes.

“When you and Virgil were in the North Sea…there was a wave…a violent one. It sent the ship listing. It nearly capsized. You were hit by falling debris and the ship sent you under as it thrashed in the surf…” she explained gently. Gordon’s second hand slowly let go of his mother as he brought it to his chest. The ache…the burn…it all made sense. There was a terrible, ugly familiarity to the experience. Gordon cast about for another question, anything to stay the onslaught of the memories from his hydrofoil incident.

“Were you there?” he asked. She shook her head.

“No, sweetheart. I wasn’t there.”

“Then how…”

“I heard Virgil telling the nurses what had happened,” she said, “He’s rather upset with them at the moment.” Gordon frowned.

“How come I can’t hear him?” If this was all happening around him, surely he would know. Lucille gave him the same pitying look she had given him before.

“You’re in the in between, guppy. You—“

“What does that mean?!” Gordon asked, a flash of his younger self rearing its head. She shook her head and pushed his hair back once more. She seemed to be working herself up to bearing some very unpleasant news.

“It means you are between life and death, my little guppy,” she said. “That you can see and hear me, means you are very close to death.” Gordon’s shoulders dropped, and he lowered his eyes as he processed the simple, yet completely devastating statement. So this was the end? He supposed he’d rather face it with his mother than on his own. Lucille leaned in to tilt his chin up again. “You aren’t dead yet, Gordon. You still have a choice.”

“I…do?” Lucille nodded to him.

“I don’t promise an easy or smooth recovery, but you can turn back now. You can still fight this, guppy,” she said. Gordon considered that a moment before locking his eyes with his mother again.

“But…what about you?” he asked, his voice small, “Will you be alone?” Lucille shook her head.

“Please don’t stay for me,” she said. “You deserve a long and happy life, Gordon. Don’t stay because you fear I will be alone. I will see you again one day.” Gordon’s eyes searched her face. If the pain in his chest was anything to go by, his recovery would be a long and terrible one. He didn’t relish the idea of another stint in the hospital. Yet at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to forget about everything he had left to live for. His brothers…Grandma…Dad…Brains…Kayo…he couldn’t just let them down like this. He swallowed as he made up his mind.

“I’m so sorry, mom,” he said, pulling her into his arms once more, holding her like it was the last time. “I…I have to go. I have to fight.” Lucille smiled sadly and pulled him tightly against her as well.

“It’s ok, Gordon,” she said. “It will all be ok.” She slowly broke their contact and started to get up. Gordon couldn’t keep the small noise of protest completely down. Lucille walked over to the curtain surrounding his bed. She took it in her hand and took one more long look at Gordon, blowing him a kiss.

“Get some rest, Guppy. Your brothers will be happy to see you when you wake up.” Gordon watched her until she had curled the curtains all the way around and he didn’t dare close his eyes until her footsteps had vanished and he knew he was well and truly alone. Gordon dropped leadenly back on the pillow, thinking to himself that it was always hard to fall asleep with tears in his eyes.

~@~

Scott started awake as he heard a change in the rhythm of the machines measuring his brother’s vitals. He quickly looked around at all the monitors that were currently hooked up to his brother. Everything seemed to be stable….even elevating. That, at least, was promising. They’d almost lost him twice in the time they had been here and Scott wasn’t sure his heart could take a third decline.

He sat back in his seat and stretched his stiff shoulders. There was a reason they all hated hospitals. He almost missed the slight movement of Gordon’s fingers. He might have, if he had stretched a moment longer. Instead, he leaned in, putting his hand on the bed near Gordon’s.

“That’s it, Squid….easy does it…” Scott murmured soothingly. Gordon’s fingers again stretched out for contact, and Scott obliged, touching just fingertips at first. While Gordon wasn’t able to form words in his state, Scott could see his brother relax at the contact. Scott swallowed and pulled Gordon’s hand into his own.

“I’ve got you, Gordon. I’ve got you.”

[anneapocalypse]

Hello! This will probably be a bit long winded but I was wondering what your thoughts are on the possible development of "romantic" relationships in rvb? All of the ones encountered in the show are already established, The Director/Allison, Church/Tex, Carolina/York, etc. Although unnecessary as your post pointed out, the beach scene between Wash and Carolina could be interpreted as the start of something. Do you think this would benefit the show, or would it be an unnecessary distraction?

Ah, yes, the romance question. It’s a bit of a… shall we say, a fraught question when it comes to Rooster Teeth and Red vs. Blue. 

Let me preface this by saying that there will be, by the nature of answering this question, some ship negativity, and I want to be clear that my issues with the ships in question are with the way they are handled in canon; I am not saying and I do not think that nobody should ship them or that shipping them makes you a bad person or something. That being said, please feel free to just skip this post if you don’t want to hear criticism of canon ships.

And as always, these are of course just my opinions.

Let me also state for the record that I like Washlina! It’s what I’d call a passive ship for me, it’s not “my” ship in that I don’t write them romantically when I write them, but there are some fan portrayals of them that I enjoy a whole lot, so I have no on-principle objection to a romantic relationship between the Last Two Standing.

So would I like to see it made canon?

No, I would not. And it has nothing to do with the ship itself or with romance subplots generally, and everything to do with how Rooster Teeth writes romance. 

To put things in perspective, Mainelina is my otp, my heart and soul, and I am grateful beyond words that Mainelina wasn’t a canon romance because based on the way Red vs. Blue does romance, it would almost certainly carry little to none of what I actually see in Mainelina when left to my imagination, and it’s quite possible that were it codified in a canon relationship, I wouldn’t ship it at all.

For a pithy example of the general cluelessness of our writers when it comes to canonizing romance, we need look no further than Katie Jensen and Charles Palomo. That we’re meant to see a budding relationship between our two young lieutenants as sweet after Palomo canonically sexually harassed Jensen (yes, loudly talking about staring at someone’s butt and embarrassing them about it in front of their peers is sexual harassment, and the way Jensen responds conveys clear discomfort) perhaps says everything it needs to.

But that’s a pithy example and a ship that is, at most, canonized in the background in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of way. What else you got, Apocalypse?

Well, we could talk about our girl CT, who in season 10 is shoved into a romance with a dude who doesn’t even get a name, in a thread that does nothing to further her character arc and in fact muddies what previously were clear motivations, marring what should be a story of her unique courage with the suggestion that she is motivated by feelings for a man we barely know.

Or we could talk about… York/Carolina. (Dramatic sound effect here!) 

I’ve said probably everything I need to say about York/Carolina already so let me sum up: York/Carolina in canon is portrayed as almost entirely one-sided in season 10, yet York is hammered on as source of guilt for Carolina years later; he’s framed as being right about everything despite misreading Carolina’s motives and never taking the time to explain his own; his paternalistic and patronizing attitude toward Carolina is framed as objectively correct and as recently as season 15 Carolina has been framed as wrong for not throwing away her entire life and career to run away with him. 

This is not about York being a bad character or the ship being a bad ship; it’s that there is a deep-seated and long-running gender bias in the writing of RvB that tends to portray female characters, especially but not limited to Carolina, as not knowing what’s best for themselves and suffering because they don’t submit to the wisdom and levelheadedness of the men in their lives. (The Dakota twins are a non-romantic example of this. You could put Kaikaina Grif in that category as well.) 

But Anne, you might say, why does a canon ship have to be perfectly healthy? Why can’t it be rocky, have normal human problems, or even be downright unhealthy? 

It can! You notice what canon ship I haven’t mentioned yet in this sordid list? Yahtzee, it’s Chex, which arguably in all its forms is on some level unhealthy, rocky, messy, obsessive, mutually destructive, codependent, and other adjectives as well. Why am I not out here criticizing Chex? Because, for the most part, Chex isn’t framed as healthy. Original Flavor Leonard’s obsession with Allison, the central conceit of the entire show, is pretty clearly established by season 6 to have led him to commit some pretty horrible acts. Alpha and Beta Chex is a ship I love for all its awful; it is as rocky and prickly as it is at moments painfully earnest and even moving, and I love it. I don’t need it to be flowers and wedding bells and happily ever afters. It’s not made for that. It’s not what I’m looking for in it. 

Even then there is valid criticism to be had over the way eTex is written out in season 9–hell, we could have a discussion about the fact that every time Tex leaves Church, she dies. At the very least, we can say that overall it is fairly clear that Church’s relationship to Tex is not always a healthy one, and that he regularly puts his own selfishness ahead of her wants and needs.

Framing aside, that is not what I want for Carolina. 

I don’t trust the writers, any of them, to build a dynamic between Carolina and Wash that I am even comfortable with, never mind happy with. I don’t trust them not to write Wash as paternalistic toward Carolina. Hell, romance entirely aside, I still don’t trust them not to keep hammering on Carolina’s Past, Her Terrible Past while sweeping Wash’s transgressions under the rug or playing them for laughs. I am weary of gendered double standards, and romance between a man and a woman on this kind of show can only exacerbate those problems in the writing. And once a ship dynamic is crystallized in canon, it becomes harder and harder for the fandom to work outside that dynamic–not impossible, but much less common.

I don’t trust them to put Carolina in an onscreen romantic relationship and do right by her, and based on precedent the odds are not in her favor.

Given the choice, I’d prefer that be left to the fans.