#that or bring back the yankee polka

[a-birdhouse-in-your-soul]

instead of a style or decade or whatever the hell, the isu should make next year’s rhythm dance theme “pieces of music that make sense together”

[macaroni-rascal]

Waxing poetic idea: what they add to compulsory/pattern dances!

Compulsory dance events, while repetitive and over-long were, I think, are very very important aspect of ice dance, the loss of which has severely impacted teams abilities and knowledge of fundamentals; things like skating in close hold, quick turns, extension, turn out of the foot, etc., have slowly become less apparent in the discipline. Tessa and Scott were masters of the compulsory dance, and later, the pattern dances. 

Not only did they skate them exceptionally well, but they also added difficulty, intricacy, and personality to each dance and pattern, making them completely and wholly their own. 

There is a reason the eurosport uncles thought they deserved to be first after the compulsory dances in 2008, because they did deserve to be first. How close they are skating, how deep their edges, how clean their turns, their toes pointed out, all done seamlessly and with amazing speed…

The argentine tango is easily one of my favourite compulsories of theirs, they own the tango energy so unbelievable well, especially for 18 and 20 year olds, I love this part especially:

Here, they added bringing their arms up and slowly bringing them down. If you go back and watch other teams, vm were undoubtedly skating the closest to each other, their chests are almost touching and their skates are inches away from each other. For the sake of saving gif use, they also had/have the best extension and use of the free leg, if you rewatch their dance in comparison to any other, including Delobel and Schoenfelder who were leading, there is a very stark difference.

Even after a season off with Tessa getting her first surgery they come into worlds and do the most wonderful paso doble, with arguable Scott’s most amazing costume of their entire career. I love that they added these interesting arms as they do a relatively simple step, their hold is gorgeous and their posture is, as always, wonderfully upright and open, all while staying in the dance. When rewatching, they add extra arm movement in other places as well, which adds levels to the dance and extra flair that I just love.

If I could just put the entirety of the tango romantica in this post I would, because I would say it was the compulsory dance that they made the most their own. This is my favourite part of what they changed:

They have their arms out up in the same way while they do their helicopter turns at the beginning of the pattern as well, and especially here, it creates such a cool “X” shape twice as they go around the corner, all with deep turns. What they are doing with their free legs is pure art and so difficult its ridiculous. If you watch back to last season, this was a part where most teams would lose the character of the dance and really focus on what they feet were doing. Here, vm’s extension in on point, as is their character of the dance, Tessa’s arms add So Much to this program, I could write sonnets. 

Ah the Golden Waltz…the last compulsory dance performed in competition, they were the last team to ever perform a compulsory dance, they also achieved the highest score ever given. You just can’t make this stuff up. What they bring to the GW is just superb and I think it comes down to three main things: their timing, their ease with dance holds, and their posture. 

They really do make the ice into a dance floor. I can’t put every gif I want to here, but the entire pattern is just pure brilliance, pure skating, pure technique, pure soul. Tessa turning around Scott, maintaining her free leg, their extension together, the ease as they shift holds constantly, it is one fluid movement, one dance, not a series of steps and hold changes, it never appears put upon or placed weirdly, it’s just magic.

RIP to the yankee polka, for gif amount I had to cut it to highlight other dances, but here is a post that shows it beautifully and again, their holds are magic, it fits the music, becomes part of the story and they have easily the best extension as all as the most ease. Especially in the back to back part where they let go of their hands and then come back together, that season all the teams looked very off in that moment, but not vm. 

Now, once we get  more into pattern dances, what I think vm did better than anyone else was integrate it into the program, I made a whole post dedicated to night and days where I talk about how they always add some sort of choreographic movement that echos the pattern dance so that the whole program feels complete.

For example in the finnstep, I couldn’t find a gif of it, but the moment when they hold hands and do a little skip past the judges matches the type of hops they are performing in the finnstep:

Or! in the opening when they do the toe work and how it echoes the moment in the finnstep where they are dancing on their toe picks (I’ve time stamped the videos in the hyperlinks)

I love this SO much because far too often with teams there is a clear divide between choreography and the pattern dance, but with Tessa and Scott, they really used the pattern dance as an opportunity to build a program and create a story.

I also love their extension and free leg in this moment:

No other team got anywhere near that level of extension and no team this season has even come close, again that is a moment most couples will lose the character and have to focus on getting the steps, vm add extra flair and create a really interesting shape on the ice.

PRINCE! And the midnight blues! I mean, what is there to say besides it was pure perfection from start to finish and the most musical pattern of the season and perhaps ever. Five Women was truly just the perfect vehicle for this pattern and fit it so wonderfully.

One thing that vm do very well too is to make the transition INTO the pattern interesting, I love love love how they gain speed around the corner, Scott does his little hair moment, and they he twizzles into hold right when the music goes “IT TOOK – fiiiive women” and then the syncopation and beat of the song just lets them highlight their extension and how well their free legs match, again, adding interesting arm movements and weaving around different holds so naturally.

Of course, cannot not mention that they were the only team to no hand the 3-turn in the pattern, while Scott just rides that gorgeous edge, they get SO close to each other and the boards because the ice coverage is pure insanity. I also love that knee up moment at the beginning of the gif, the pantsuit Tessa fought for really highlighted their lines. They always do everything to highlight their skating, nothing is hidden or used to distract, and I respect them so much for that.

After performing the rhumba multiple times in senior level competition, getting better each time, they continued to improve, adding something new and interesting with each new iteration. At this point I’m just repeating myself, but Tessa’s arms, their posture, and their musicality is next level. I love that during the key point in this gif there is a little guitar twang as they kick during the edge change, its those little things that really stand out  when everyone is doing the same pattern. It’s not a pattern for them, its just their whole program.

Again, they integrate moves into their step sequences that mimic the pattern, like how this moment looks like their leg kicks in the beginning of the rhumba (more time stamped video). And again, the ice coverage, they go from the boards to the middle of the rink like its nothing and skate from one end to the other so seamlessly, their edges and the curves they make on the ice are unparalleled. 

They always had the most expansive yet detailed compulsory dances and set pattern dances, breaking the monotony and creating something truly special out of something prescribed. Legends, through and through.

[writearctic]

Sundowns and Merry-Go-Rounds - oneshot

⚤︎ Yunho & female reader

✔︎ PURE FLUFF

⌨︎ 2.8k

⚠︎ sleep deprivation

This week had been incredibly stressful for you. In the last five days, you had slept for a total of 13 hours. Your boss, at the magazine company you worked for, had given you a huge assignment. You were instructed to write the truth about sunscreen, specifically its contents. You were to “expose” the dangers of using the wrong types of sunblock. 

The issue with this article for you was that science was not your strong suit. So when you began looking into ethylhexyl methoxycinnamate and nano particles, you felt drained. Your mind was a void of dumb when it came to science. It was an interesting story, and you were thankful your boss had given you the article. But, you were beginning to feel like your work wasn’t going to cut it.

You turned and looked at your clock, it read: ‘03:00.’ You had spent another late night on this project. You let out a small chuckle and soft sigh; you then clicked off your lamp, closed your laptop, and went to bed. The comfort of your blankets instantly warmed your body. You felt like you were floating on a cloud and it sent you instantly into a deep sleep.

At 07:15, your phone rang.

“Hello?” 

“Hi gorgeous.” It was your boyfriend, Yunho. 

You huffed: “You can’t even see me.”

“I don’t have to see you to know you’re beautiful.”

His soft words sent tingles down your body. You missed him dearly and couldn’t wait for your date today.

“Are you awake?” He asked.

“I am now.”

“Yay!! How long do you need to get ready, y/n?”

“Uh, an hour.”

“Ok, I’ll be at your apartment in exactly one hour. I love youuuu~” 

“I love you too.” beep

You couldn’t wait to spend the entire day with Yunho. Your work had taken up every minute of your time. The last time you saw him was Tuesday when you met for lunch. He told you about not overworking yourself and promised to take you out on Saturday. 

You slipped on a red and white polka-dotted dress that lightly hugged your curves. You then continued your morning routine: brushing your teeth, braiding your hair into two side braids which you knew was the way he liked it. You applied a soft layer of makeup: mascara, a bit of under eye glitter, concealer, a dash of blush, and your favorite lip tint. 

You sat down and began lacing up your white converse hightops and heard him knock at your door.

“Good morning,” you said as your lips formed a bright smile. Seeing him truly made you the happiest girl alive. His body was perfectly toned by his tight, black jeans. He wore a white, New York Yankees baseball tee that ended at his elbows. His hair was neatly combed and looked so fluffy. You had to resist the urge to play with it. He placed his large hands on your hips and pulled you into a hug.

“See? I told you. You are gorgeous,” he cooed as he gently kissed your lips. You had missed his kisses so much more than you realized. “Are you ready?”

“Yep! I’m beyond excited to see where you’re taking me.” You closed your door and heard it lock. Your fingers now intertwined with Yunho’s. You hummed a small tune as you were guided to his car.

“After you,” he said as he opened the passenger door. Your cheeks blushed uncontrollably. A smile curled on your face. You ducked to get into the vehicle but stopped to quickly kiss his cheek.

“Such a gentleman,” you giggled as you buckled your seatbelt. He closed the door, and without you noticing, he began blushing too.

As he took his seat, his hand was immediately in yours again. The blush on your cheeks now deepened its color. 

“Where are we going?” You begged him. Your head faced solely on him. He glanced at you and scoffed when he saw your puppy dog eyes and child-like pout.

“Are you that desperate to know, y/n?” He licked his lips and grinned. The morning sun brightened the features of his face and made you beam with happiness. He was your man. Yours. And his perfect self was now teasing you so sweetly.

“Yes! You know I can’t stand surprises.” You groaned and slumped back in your seat accepting defeat. Your mind began to wander. ‘Maybe he’s taking me to a pottery class,’ you imagined. ‘Or a mini golf course. Oh, the zoo!’

“We’re here,” his voice spoke in the sweetest tone, and you realized you got lost in your imagination for the rest of the drive. 

You stepped out and heard laughter. A familiar scent swung towards you. Cotton candy. Yunho had taken you to an amusement park.

“Oh Yunnie, I love it,” you cheered. You rushed towards him and pulled on his Yankee’s shirt to bring your sweet lips to his.

“Was it worth the surprise?” He lowered his tall body down and brought his cute face towards yours. Your rosy cheeks instantly returned as he quickly pecked your lips.

“Yes! Absolutely.” You hugged him and nuzzled your head into his chest. His sweet scent mixed with the cotton candy air made your body weak.

“Come on.” He laughed as he broke the hug but held your hand tightly. You ran to the entrance with him where he bought the tickets. He treated you like a princess, and little things like this reminded you of how much you loved him and how much he loved you. 

As he paid the cashier, you secretly yawned into your shoulder. ‘No, no. I can’t show him I’m tired. I told him I wouldn’t overwork~’ You noted to yourself. 

“Let’s go.” Yunho’s hand was back in yours; he swung it freely like a child. He lifted it up to his lips and kissed the back of your hand. His eyes never left yours. His actions sent shivers through your body.

The two of you rode a 3D ride about pirates and joked at the fact that each animated pirate had a British accent. You both went on a merry-go-round that brought back memories of your childhood. As you passed a large roller coaster, he pleaded with you to ride it with him. 

Your eyes looked above as the rides tracks rattled; the cart whirred over you. People screamed. Your hand started folding the hems of your dress. You couldn’t stand the fast turns; they made your head hurt. “I’m okay, Yunnie. You can ride it. I’ll wait here for you,” you mumbled and tossed him a light smile. But, Yunho was no dummy.

“y/n-ah, are you scared?” Both his hands now embraced yours as he bent to your level. “I didn’t know you were afraid of heights.”

“I’m not. It’s the speedy turns and sudden drops that scare me.”

“I won’t ride it then. I don’t want you to be waiting here alone.”

You felt awful. Yunho, being the gentleman that he is, denied the ride he desperately wanted to ride with you. “I’ll ride with you if you’re ok with me clinging to you the entire time.” You flashed him a smile, and he became full of joy.

“Yay!!! But, will you be ok?” His genuine concern made you blush, again.

“If I’m with you, I’m sure I’ll be alright.”

He kissed your forehead and held your hand again. The two of you climbed the metal stairs to the line. You yawned again, hoping Yunho wouldn’t notice. You talked with him and hugged him a bunch as you waited for the line to bring you to the front. When you had, the employee lifted the safety bar and you took your seat. You looked up at Yunho; he was staring at the small leg room in the cart.

“Heh, it’s a bit tight,” he whined as his tall, limber body squeezed into the seat. You took off your sling purse and placed it between the metal ride and his knees. 

“There,” you said, satisfied with your work. “Now you won’t bruise your knees.” You turned to him. He was bright red. He looked so cute. Your eyes turned to your shoes and your smile grew across your face. The employee tightened your seatbelts and pulled the safety bar down.

The ride lunged forward. Your hands quickly found Yunho’s right bicep. Your face buried into his shoulder. He stayed perfectly still throughout the ride. People around you screamed. The noise hurt your head almost as much as the intense movements of the ride. 

When it finally ended, Yunho had trouble getting out. He handed your bag to you and helplessly struggled to get up. The employee groaned and pulled your boyfriend's arm. It made you wince at how hard he was pulling. You feared he’d tug his arm out of socket. He didn’t; Yunho was safely removed from the cart. You let out a sigh of relief as you lifted yourself off. 

The rest of the day was spent well. Lots of cotton candy were shared between you. You and Yunho played many arcade games. When you walked by a basketball booth, he desperately took the chance to impress you with his shots. And he did. He shot 17/ 18 which made the young boy running the booth comment on how good your boyfriend's basketball skills were. As a prize, he won a small, green, plush monkey which he named Mono. He worried that his well-earned Mono would get lost and prodded with you about placing him in your purse. He won. Who can say no to his sweet pouts?

You enjoyed a haunted house; surprisingly, Yunho screamed at one of the actresses who dressed as a witch. 

“What?” He said shyly. “Her costume and makeup were very convincing.” You both laughed.

As the day slowly came to an end, it was much quieter and all the lines were shorter. 

“Hey, y/n-ah. Let’s go on the ferris wheel and watch the sun go down.” Yunho was so full of energy and wanted to end your date the best way he could. When he looked at you, you let out a quick yawn. You nodded your head up and down in embarrassment. 

Apparently, other guests shared Yunho’s idea. You both sat in the booth and greeted the two teenagers across from you. They were dating. You could easily tell by the cringy way they sat together. It made you happy to see couples enjoy the same love you experienced with Yunho. The wheel began turning, and the bright sunlight hit your faces. The view was perfect. The sky was painted with bright pastels. The shaded clouds were highlighted with the deepest, natural orange color you had ever seen. It was beautiful. 

You turned to Yunho whose eyes were glued on the big sky. His face was illuminated by the glowing sunlight. You loved seeing him so happy over the colors of the sky. He kept pointing out every new color he found to you. Eventually, he began playing iSpy with the kids seated with you.

Then, the sun went down. The skies lost their multitudes of color but didn’t lack in beauty. The shade of blue was dark. Purple with a hint of black in some spots. You searched for the stars but could not find them due to the brightness of the city. You yawned and shut your eyes. This was perfect. He was perfect.

It didn’t take Yunho long to realize you were asleep. Despite your difference in height, your little limp body fit like a puzzle piece to your giant. His gaze departed from the sky and focused only on your sleeping figure. He slowly moved his hand into his pocket and reached for his phone.

“Here. Would you mind taking a picture?” He whispered to the children across from you. “I’m going to tease her about this later,” he chuckled as he bent over you to tuck a strand of hair behind your delicate ear.

Minutes later you heard your boyfriend's soft voice and felt his gentle hands pull you to your feet. “The ride’s over y/n.” He gave you his arm, and your weak body leaned against it. This day made you forget about all your worries with work. Your stress was replaced with fun, and your mind was solely filled with Yunho. He helped you in the car and quietly drove off. 

He turned to you and caught small glances of your eyes fluttering. Soon, you were back asleep. He wished he could watch you, his angel, sleep peacefully right now. But he knew you needed the rest. He continued driving, but his mind couldn’t stop thinking of you. He wanted to take in every ounce of you. He wanted to watch you lick your slightly parted lips a thousand times more.

Yunho brought you to his apartment. He opened the passenger door and softly spoke: “y/n-ah, we’re at my apartment. Can you walk or should I carry you?” 

“I can walk,” you murmured and rose to your feet. Yunho was keen to catch your tilting body as you became lightheaded. 

“It’s alright, princess. I can carry you.” He lifted your legs towards his chest and gracefully held your torso tightly against his. You whimpered in defeat and let him carry you. “y/n, I recall you saying you wouldn’t stay up late and overwork yourself.”

He stopped in the entry of his apartment. Your heavy eyes opened slightly; you saw Yunho kneeling below you. His shoes were off of his feet and his gentle hands were now slowly removing yours. He smiled at you when he saw you blush and carried you to his bed. He carefully placed you on his soft mattress. Yunho stared at your tired form as you slowly rose to sit. “Here are some pajamas for you.” He passed you the grey sweatpants you had seen him wear countless times before. Below the pants, you found a shirt with the cutest animated dinosaur that you had ever seen. 

“I’ll give you some privacy,” he remarked and stepped out of his room. You smirked and started to change. Your body felt fatigue. Your eyes needed to close and you wanted to drown in the scent of your boyfriend that rested in his clothes. You managed to crawl into his bed while you finished slipping on his sweats. You were abruptly asleep again.

Yunho walked in a few moments later. He held Mono in his large hands. He changed into his sleep ware. You suddenly called his name in your sleep. 

“Hmm?” He purred. He found you so precious when he studied you breathing his name in your sleep, although he was disappointed that he couldn’t stay up and talk with you for a bit longer. Your tired boyfriend smirked happily and joined you under the covers. But, he jumped up and reached for his phone. 

“There,” he whispered with a sigh of approval. The photo of you lying across his shoulder was now his wallpaper. He smiled and repeatedly turned his phone back on after the screen went dark. You moaned his name again, and he eagerly shut off his device. He placed it down and progressed to cuddle your warm, delicate body. His muscular arms wrapped around you, and your fingers locked into his shirt. When he lightly kissed your jawline, you softly hummed in response. Yunho began tracing shapes and letters on your back. He was barely awake when he traced the words ‘Mine’ over your clothed skin. His eyes drooped shut. 

"Yours," you whispered. You quickly pulled yourself up to your boyfriend and kissed his bare clavicle. Yunho couldn’t help but smile and tighten his grip on your body.

[averyrogers83]

Shared Birthdays

draTitle: Shared Birthdays

Author: Darlin’ and Vixen

Warnings: Smut, fluff, more smut

Rating: NSFW 18+ NO MINORS ALLOWED

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You and Steve have been together for a couple years now, you both share the same birthday, but have not been in the same place to celebrate it together till now. 

Square Filled: Steve Rogers for Marvel Bingo by @shield-agent78

Words: 1825

A/N: Another collaborative fic from the smut duo of Darlin’ and Vixen to celebrate the one and only Steven Grant Rogers “Captain America” and his birthday. Thank you to @hotoffthepressfics for the wonderful artwork

Since you and Steve started dating neither of you have had the chance to spend your birthday together.  The only two of the Avengers who shared a birthday on the birth of the nation, Independence Day.  He was either on a mission or vice versa, never together on your special day, so why would this year be any different.  

Nat and Wanda decided to take your mind off the whole missing your man thing by throwing a BBQ/pool party, even though you were adamant about not wanting a party or were even in the mood to celebrate without your best guy with you. 

The day was lovely you stretched your limbs out on the chaise lounge wearing your favorite bikini. A red, white, and blue number you picked up just in case if Steve had gotten home. You close your eyes and layback turing the music up on your earbuds. Suddenly, your sun was blocked by a tall shadow.   

“Hey, do you mind, Buckoo” you sassed “You’re screwing up my tan.” A hearty chuckle left his lips as you eyes snapped open wide. There in front of you stood the dirty-blond god wearing his blue and white polka dot swim trunks.  You jumped up from the lounge chair and into his arms. You were so excited you knocked the two of you into the pool. Splash!

Steve’s large arms held onto your waist as you both kicked up the surface, you sputtered and coughed a little than locked your arms around his neck. “I’m so glad you’re here…When did you get back?” 

“About an hour ago. Couldn’t let my best girl down on her birthday.”

“Our birthday.” You corrected him than placed a soft kiss on his lips. Steve grinned and helped you out of the pool. “What would you like to do first birthday boy?” You teased running your hands down his taut chest. “We have a little bit before lunch is ready.”

“Whatever you want, I just want to be with you.” You smile and take his hand leading him to a table that is set up for gifts. You reach your hand behind a box and retrieve an envelope with his name on it. 

“It was hard coming up with something to get Captain America for his Birthday.” you smirk, “A man whose been around for…wow…a really long time.” you tease.  

“Just remember this old man can still take you over his knee, sweetheart.”

“Oh really, you think so?” your eyes narrowed, taunting him “Bring it old man.” 

Steve leans over to you, his hot breath fanning on your ear. “I know so,” he smirks.

“Open your gift Cap,” you tease pulling back from him some. Steve’s long fingers opens the card and reads it. It has a picture of cake on it with lots of candles. ‘Blow this and I’ll blow you…’ Steve looks up with a glint in his eyes. You get bat your eyelashes at him giving him an innocent look. He opens the card as his eyes immediately widen in surprise. 

“These are…these are, Yankees season tickets.” He sutters excitedly. 

“Yep. You catch on fast old man,” you laugh. “I thought maybe you could take Bucky with you. I know how you love the Yankees.” 

“You know that this is the second time you called me old, Doll.”  

“Yeah, and whatcha going to do about it?” Steve gives you a flirtatious smirk, places the card back onto the table and picks you up throwing you over his shoulder.

You let out a yelp and he carries you inside. Your face turning red from laughing so hard, “Steve, where are you taking me?” you ask when you noticed he wasn’t taking you to the room the two of you shared. Steve chuckles and whaks you on your bottom. “Ow, hey!” 

“Hum left or right,” he ponders as he glances down the hall. The left leads to the garage and right outside to a hot tub. “Which way baby girl?” he asks his voice dropping an octave giving you chills. “I think right.”

You could feel the heat right between your legs at the thought of him having his way with you in the hot tub. You fantasized about what it would be like. “Oh, I’ve always wanted to do it in the hot tub.” you cooed. 

“Maybe we’ll go to the garage instead.” He teasingly starts to go in the opposite direction. 

“Oh, we can do it on your bike. I’ve always wanted to try that.” Steve just shakes his head giving a chuckle.  

“Maybe…,” he mumbles. He turns right and heads out of the door towards the secluded hot tub. “FRIDAY. No interruptions.” 

“Yes Captain.” The A.I. responds as you hear the doors click and lock.  The two of you now alone in the dimly lit garden oasis. 

“Strip,” he commands leaving no room for argument. Steve gives you a hungry stare as he runs his wet tongue over his bottom lip. 

“Yes, sir” you whisper as you slowly untie your bikini top and let it fall to the floor exposing your ample bosom the heat rushing to your face as you feel exposed. Steve cocks his head at you and runs his eyes slowly over you checking you out. His glare makes you feel a mix between a fairy tale princess and sex goddess You slip off the bottoms and stand before him naked the heat that is between you is radiating. The way he looked at you made you feel vulnerable, you weren’t sure why, he has seen you naked so many times before.  You try to cover yourself up with your arms, but Steve rakes his darkening ocean blue eyes over your body, steps closer and moves your arms so he can see all of you. 

“Don’t,” he commands softly. His fingertips bush down the right side of your neck than down toward your bosom. “You have a very intoxicating effect on me Mrs. Rogers.” You heart races as your shiver under his skilled fingers as your brain tries to process his words. His soft lips brush against your neck as you hold onto his large muscled biceps. Your mind races as you try to make sense of what’s going on, but his assault on your body is too overwhelming, all she can think about is letting him have his way with her.  To do what whatever he wanted.  You moan with each caress.  

He slowly moves you two towards the hot tub behind you. You run your hands down the waistband of his trunks and begin pushing them down as you give America’s ass a little swat. “Mrs. Rogers,” Steve growls out again but you are so lost in this man you don’t process his words. He stops and steps out of his trunks kicking them to the side while stepping you backwards onto the steps of the hot tub. The water lapping at yours and Steve’s feet playfully. “Now what did you say about me being old?” He smirks backing you into the middle of the tub. You run your hands down his back feeling each taught muscle while giving him a flirtatious smile.

“Me?” you state coyly “I didn’t say any such thing.” you fake a southern accent trying to sound innocent.

“Ahugh,” he nods. “You, Mrs. Rogers.” Your eyes widen as you finally catch onto his words.

“I augh, can you augh. . re..peat that please, Sir.” 

“I said…Mrs. Rogers…that I’m going to teach you a lesson or two for calling me old.” Your mouth moves but you can’t form any words over your racing heartbeat. Steve pulls you closer to him his erection rubs against you hip as he nips your neck playfully. His hands roll your nipples giving them a pinch making them hard under his skilled touch. “Can an old man treat you like this?” You let out a moan and shake your head no. “Words,” he commands softly as heat spreads throughout your body.

“Yes, I mean no. Wait what did you ca…call me?”

“Later.” Steve states with authority leaving no room for argument. His lust blown eyes lock on your y/c/e as he leans down and nips your lip playfully. Steve’s hands find your hips as he turns you facing the edge of the hot tub. “Hands on the edge.” His teeth nips the back of your neck than he soothes the spots running his flat tongue over them causing you to moan out in pleasure. You do as you are told as you spread your legs waiting.  He takes his left hand and gives his cock a pump as precum drips from the shaft. There is no time to adjust as Steve pounds into you balls deep with a loud grunt. 

“Augh. .fu. .” you head tips back onto his shoulder. One hand reaches over and massages your clit as the other wraps around your waist pulling you flush towards him. Your walls clench around his cock and he continues pumping into you furiously, making your body quiver with each thrust, bringing you to the edge of ecstasy.  

“Can. .an. .old. .man. .do. .this. .to. .you?” Steve grunts as he pushes his cock deeper inside you hitting you in all the right spots to make you scream out his name. 

“Fu…No!” you exclaim. 

“No, what baby girl.” He continues his thrusts

“No…No, sir. Please Steve…don’t stop.” You try to catch your breath.  “Baby, I need to cum..Please!” you plead for release. 

“Come for me, Sweetheat,” he coos “Come for your Captain.” he grunts softly in your ear. You grasped the ledge so hard your knuckles turned white, your walls clenched around him bringing the both of you over the edge, coming together.  Your body spent from the exertion his arms wrapped around you as  you pressed your back against his chest and tried to catch your breath. 

Finally able to find your footing you turned and faced the man you loved…”I will never call you an old man again…” you smiled. “And for the record, you can make me come just by the sound of your voice.” Steve smirks as you wrap your arms around his neck. 

“Is that so Mrs. Rogers?” You eyes widen in response.

“St..Steve..did you ju…just call me Mrs. Rogers?”

“Ya, several times,” he responds quietly. “ Happy birthday, baby.”

“Yes, Steve. Oh, yes.” You pepper his face with kisses. Steve pulls you into his massive arms, hands scooping your ass out of the water as your wrap your legs around him. . “Best shared birthday ever, you mumble as he eases into you. 

You came twice more as the two of you made love in the hot tub, water splashing everywhere, thankfully you were too far away from everyone else by the pool or else they would be able to hear your cries of ecstasy.  

@shield-agent78 @buckysforeverprincess @patzammit @ellaprime68 @chuuulip @mychemicalimagines @bloodiedskirtts @hotoffthepressfics @littlemarvelfics @dj-lowkey @drakelover78 @caramell0w @the-canary @capstevengrogers @captain-rogers-beard @tilltheendwilliwrite @until-theend-oftheline 

[soyouthinkyoucansleep]

Battle of the Blades Episode 1 Review

For those who saw my earlier post, I got to go to the live taping of BOTB in Hamilton...my tickets were the front row (excluding VIP) so I got a really really good view! Here is my review of the show. I’m gonna talk about all of the couples in the order they skated. I was also gonna talk about the judges and some comments on the show overall but I’ll save that for another post since this is getting long.

A quick intro into the format. So during the commercial break, which is about 3 minutes, the skaters on deck get to warm up. For most of it, everyone focused on stroking with a few timers for lifts in there. The skaters are scored in the 10.0 system rather than 6.0 in the past which was a little weird. For today’s show, Tessa and Scott counted as one judge (they gave one score together). I felt like I was watching NCAA gymnastics for a bit. In the past, eliminations were based solely on viewer votes; the scores were just guidelines. Now like DWTS, its a combination of viewer votes and the judge's scores. The bottom two based on that will be required to compete in a skate-off next week and the winner of the skate-off is selected by the judges. Winner stays, loser goes home.

I went with my younger sister who is a figure skater so the technical comments come from her. It was great sitting with her to get that insight. Scroll below the cut for all my comments.

Natalie Spooner and Andrew Poje

They were the first ones to go so they had the pressure of setting the bar for everyone. Nat was away at Hockey Canada’s national team camp for about 8 days and she only got back to figure skating Monday morning, leaving three full days of rehearsals before the show.

Naturally, Natalie seemed very very nervous in this warm-up, almost looking like she was about to throw up. She kept looking at the ground while skating (a big no-no, as per my sister) and I noticed a few times Andrew reminded her to look up.

While the warm-up may have been a recipe for a bad skate, the routine was anything but! Nat had a huge smile on her face and seemed to have fun the entire time once the program got started. There was one major lift, a knee slide in there, and some footwork. Andrew and the choreographers did a good job adding a little mix of everything and they highlighted that Natalie was a strong skater (compared to many of the others). Completely forgot the fact that she’s hopping back and forth between hockey and figure skates because of her national team commitments.

They ended with 27.9 (9.3′s across the board) for T-3rd overall.

Colton Orr and Amanda Evora

Amanda is the reigning BOTB champion so there’s a little bit of expectation for her there. She’s skating for Boys & Girls Clubs of Canada in honour of a friend of hers who recently passed away (I think he’s the father of one of her students, Grace Knoop?)

Overall, they weren’t terrible but there wasn’t anything exciting about them. They did two lifts and a death spiral but the remainder mostly felt like stroking. Colton was also very right and like Kurt said, didn’t allow his lower body to move freely and separately from the upper body. Time could help with this but they were in last place with 27.4 (9.2 from Colby Armstrong, 9.1 from VM and Kurt). They will need the votes and potentially a good skate-off next week to be safe for week 3. My sister thinks they’ll be the ones to go home first and I agree with her.

Sheldon Kennedy and Kaitlyn Weaver

tw: abuse, sexual abuse

Sheldon’s intro piece focused on the abuse he suffered at the hands of his hockey coach Graham James. CBC did not shy away from the topic. They stated that Graham kept trading for Sheldon in the junior leagues so he could keep abusing him. The intro piece then showed how Sheldon took this terrible thing that happened to him and made it his life’s mission to educate the world and have these discussions so it doesn’t happen again.

What was truly amazing was how the crowd erupted in cheers for Sheldon at that part. It felt like the entire country of Canada is proud of Sheldon for the person he has become. I could see Sheldon getting a little emotional by that response.

They skated to Wake Me Up by Avicii which kinda tells the story of Sheldon wanting to run away from hockey to escape his abuse but found himself again and found joy in his life. And this routine was the literal definition of fun and joy. Sheldon and Kaitlyn had the biggest smiles on their faces and were both having the time of their life.

Not to take away from the fun, but they also skated probably the most difficult routine technically out there. There was an overhead lift. This is especially amazing considering Sheldon is only 5′10″ and Kaitlyn is 5′7″. Kaitlyn was not going easy on him and threw in a bit of the Yankee Polka pattern dance. YANKEE POLKA. AND they made sure to get the crowd involved too.

They received a well deserved, unanimous standing ovation. Like everyone was standing up, even the women with canes in the rows behind me. And they finished the night with 28.3 (9.4, 9.4, 9.5 from Kurt) in first place.

Amanda Kessel and Eric Radford

In the intro piece, you could see how much Amanda really looks up to her older brother Phil Kessel (Stanley Cup winner with Pittsburgh) and I think that’s so precious. She even chose Sick Kids Hospital in Toronto as her charity after seeing Phil bring the Stanley Cup to the kids and seeing their reactions and subsequently the work Sick Kids does for these children and their families.

Amanda and Eric skated to “Juice” by Lizzo so I was already excited for that. In terms of training footage, both Amanda and Eric posted a lot of lifts so I was excited to see what they were planning. They did do a fair number of lifts and a death spiral in there which were well executed. However, beyond that, I felt Amanda was very similar to Colton as she was very tight and rigid. Because she was the one being lifted, it was less noticeable compared to Colton–the lifts and tricks in a sense “broke apart” the tight skating.  They ended in second last, with 27.7 (9.3 from Colby, 9.2 from the others)

Brian McGrattan and Vanessa James

Brian McGrattan is a Hamilton Native so this was a homecoming for him. He lives in Calgary now but a lot of family and friends were here supporting him. Brian discussed his struggles with anxiety and depression which lead to alcoholism. He then sought treatment through the NHL’s alcohol abuse program.

Side note: It’s amazing that CBC, and these hockey players, are not shying away from these difficult topics. Brian McGrattan is a 6′4″, big, tattooed, enforcer. If he can come out on national TV and say “hey I struggled with depression and anxiety and I sought help”, I hope that inspires other boys and men to not shy away from these problems. The stigma with mental health is stronger with men and boys and I think people like Brian can make a difference. So kudos to the players and CBC for having these topics.

The program overall was elegant and vulnerable which is a completely different side to what people are used to for Brian, but he pulled it off really well. Brian truly opened himself up and was committed to the program. Technically they had some amazing lifts and a good connection. Overall they scored 27.9 to tie for 3rd with Natalie and Andrew but the individual judges were all over the place a bit (9.4 from Colby, 9.3 from VM, 9.2 from Kurt)

Bruno Gervais and Ekaterina Gordeeva

I’m just gonna start off by saying Bruno Gervais is an amazing dude. Just out of the goodness of his heart essentially, he started a charity with his close friend Max Talbot (husband of former Canadian Ladies’ Champion Cynthia Phaneuf) which provides underprivileged children with opportunities, ranging from sports to funding hospitals. They started this charity together when both were just 23 years old!

Katia is a queen. That is all that needs to be said. She was referred to as the G.O.A.T. by Kurt and Ron MacLean many times throughout the night, and rightly so. Both of them worked with Elladj Balde a fair bit which was very helpful for them. Elladj is trilingual (English, Russian, and French)–Katia’s first language is Russian and Bruno’s is French so Elladj communicated with them in their respective mother tongues.

Elladj’s influence was seen at the beginning of the routine with Bruno busting out some [very good] dance moves. His skating was very fluid and relaxed and he was very comfortable with the lifts, even doing a “combination lift” per se which involved a lot of twists and turns. They got a partial standing ovation from the crowd, the only other team to do so. I forget their score off the top of my head but they were in second place, close to Sheldon and Kaitlyn.

So that’s my review of the skates...stay tuned tomorrow for comments on the judges and the show overall.

Also, my messages are open if you want to ask me about anything in particular!

[mimib101]

So it seems pretty likely we're getting the Yankee Polka next season which means it'll probably be waltz for the olympic season (I'm not sure where it came from but people seem to think waltz is coming soon) What I don't get is why everyone assumes it will be the Ravensburger... that's been used pretty recently (only in 2015-16) so a LOT of the current teams have done it already. Why not bring back the Golden Waltz instead ? I really like that pattern and it's been a long while since it was used (2010-11 I believe ?) so very few (if any) of the current teams will have competed it.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Twenty-Seven Steps, Chapter 19: There’s Nothing Temporary About You [June 1980]

Series summary: Callahan is an American living and studying in London. When Freddie befriends her and brings her into Queen’s inner circle, she finally learns what it’s like to have a family. But love and loyalty aren’t always black and white, and Calla must navigate conflicting desires and obligations as she accompanies John, Roger, Brian, and Freddie through their interwoven lives. 

Chapter summary: Roger tells the truth.  

Chapter warnings: Language, sexual content (not smutty), hella fluff, hella angst.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing) HERE

Taglist: @the-borhap-boys @killer-queen-xo @sincereleygmg @calspixie @fire-and-blood-got @jennyggggrrr @stormtrprinstilettos

“Hey, look at that.” Roger pointed to the basket at the center of the table. “One breadstick left. Want to fight me for it?”

Calla waved her hand. “You better take it. I’m turning into a cow.”

“A nice cow. The best cow. Blue ribbon cow.”

Calla threw back her head and laughed as she reached for her glass of red wine.

Rog took an enthusiastic bite off the end of the last breadstick. “Moo.” And then another. “Moooooo!”

Calla peered bashfully around the dining room. Men in suits, women in evening gowns, candles and roses and exclusivity and necks and wrists dripping with diamonds. “Shh! They’re going to throw us out of here!”

“They wouldn’t dare. They know who I am.”

She raised her glass and winked at him. “A smug Brit.”

He aimed the remaining half of the breadstick at her. “An unrefined Yankee!”

“Your suit is ridiculous.” And it was, it really was: black with blush polka dots, finished with an onyx dress shirt and sparkling pink converses. His prescription sunglasses were folded neatly on the white tablecloth, right next to his tiny dish of butter.

Roger gasped. “Take it back!”

“Fight me.” Calla sipped her wine.

“Now I think that really would get us thrown out.”  

Queen was in Munich recording an album they would call The Game. It was coming together in drips and drabs, having been worked on in irregular intervals since the end of February. Calla had flown in for a few days; the kids were staying with John’s mother, who always liked them to visit for her birthday. Freddie and John were in the studio, desperately trying to hammer out the final details of Freddie’s song Play The Game. With no sign of their jam session coming to an end by 8 p.m., Rog had volunteered to take Calla out to dinner. She was envisioning a German pub, maybe Chinese if she was lucky. But Roger, true to his gift for staying on top of the trends, had his eye on a swanky new Italian place that was the buzz of all the local newspapers. Most reservations had to be made no less than two weeks in advance, but Rog was right: they knew exactly who he was. He growled and raised his fists, miming boxing. Calla spotted black ink on his right wrist.

“What do you have there?”

Rog glanced at it. “Didn’t I show you this?!”

“You did not!”

He laid his arm across the table, the underside of his wrist towards the ceiling. Calla ran her fingertips over the fresh tattoo there, only a few weeks old. Felix.

“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” she asked. “Parenthood.” Calla had met Roger’s firstborn just before leaving for Munich. He was like all other babies: perfect, peaceful, gloriously new. It was already clear that Felix Luther had Dom’s dark coloring and striking features. Calla hadn’t been able to see any of Roger in him at all.

“There’s nothing like it,” Roger mused. “You hold that little life in your arms and you think...‘Wow, this is my purpose now. This is my real job.’ And it’s so...interminable. It’s a bond you can’t break. I’m his dad forever. And to be honest with you, I’m scared to death I’ll fuck it up.”

Calla smiled. “Let me tell you a secret.”

“Yeah?” Rog said hopefully.

“We all feel that way. But you’re not going to fuck it up. You really aren’t. I’ve seen bad parents. Hell, so have you. We aren’t like them. We never will be. All you have to do to be a good parent is be a good person. And I have news for you: you already are.”

Roger sighed, sliding back in his chair, freed from a weight like an anvil around his throat. “Dear god. Please go into therapy work. Did you come up with that just now? Jesus christ, Cal. I’ve been exorcised.”

“I live to serve.”

The waiter appeared with their meals: scallops and risotto for Calla, spaghetti bolognese for Roger. As they ate, Calla’s eyes followed the elegant black script on Roger’s wrist.

“Are you going to get one for Dom?” she asked after a while.

He shook his head. “Girlfriends can be temporary, partners can be temporary. Children aren’t.”

Calla smirked and pointed to his right shoulder, to his calla lily tattoo. Everybody knew it was for her. No one ever said it out loud, but they knew. “What about that?”

“What? Oh, right.” Roger chuckled wistfully. “That’s easy. There’s nothing temporary about you.”

Calla smiled, but didn’t quite know how to respond. What were she and Roger to each other? The word for it didn’t exist. Friends, family, colleagues, allies, soulmates. Some amalgamation of all of that, forged into permanence like steel. Whatever Rog was, he wasn’t temporary either. Rod Stewart’s Passion came on the record player. “Oh god,” she groaned.

“Not Rod!” Roger mocked, feigning horror. “You never developed a taste for him, did you? Who do you like? Ah, the Doors.” He grabbed a passing waiter. “Could we get some Doors, please? The lady has discerning tastes. She likes her men dark-haired and enigmatic.” The waiter, mystified, hurried away.

“How did we come to this, you critiquing my taste in men?”

“Your taste is clearly questionable.”

“You love my taste. Were I not so painfully weak for dark-haired, enigmatic men, you would not have a bassist.” Calla pointed her knife at him triumphantly. “Also, I think Dom would fall into the same category. So your taste is my taste. Thus not critiqueable.”

Roger guzzled the rest of his wine and poured himself another glass, but said nothing. The Door’s Touch Me floated through the candlelit air from the record player.

“Come on come on come on come on

Now touch me, baby,

Can't you see that I am not afraid?”

“Rog.” He looked up at her. “I like Dom. I really do. She’s sweet, she’s clever. She’s a wonderful mother. She might even be the tiniest bit fond of me, which is more than I can say for literally any other girlfriend you’ve ever had.”

Roger nodded, twirling his pasta with his fork. “That’s true, isn’t it? They didn’t like you at all. They always hated you, actually.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Now I'm gonna love you

‘Til the heavens stop the rain,

I'm gonna love you

‘Til the stars fall from the sky for you and I.”

“Well, it’s uh, it’s...” And then Roger’s whole face changed, peace and resignation washing over him, courage, surrender. His eyes met hers, naked, truthful, without shadows. “It’s probably because I’m in love with you.”

And just like that, the world stopped spinning. Calla’s fork slipped out of her grasp, chiming loudly as it hit the plate. Her mind couldn’t form words. “You’re...?”

“I'm gonna love you

‘Til the heavens stop the rain,

I'm gonna love you

‘Til the stars fall from the sky for you and I.”

“I thought I’d lost you,” Roger continued, his voice remarkably calm. “At Fred’s party. You crashed down those twenty-seven steps and into my arms and I thought you were dead, thought that was the end for us. And the whole time I had this voice in my head screaming that I’d never told you the truth, never told you what you really meant to me. I can’t let you live and die without knowing that. So here’s the truth, for what it’s worth. You’re my best friend, Callahan Rose Deacon. And I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for almost a decade. And I’m never going to not be in love with you, in case you’re wondering. So wherever we go from here and whatever choices you make from now until you’re a hundred-year-old grandma in a rocking chair, just know that I will be there, always, offering you everything I have, loving you unconditionally. Because you’re it for me. I’ve seen the world, I’ve seen fame and fortune and love in a million different forms, but I’ve never seen anything that looked as good as you.”

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me.

He LOVES me.

And as his words sank through her layer by layer, like rain slipping out of the sky, Calla was aware that she didn’t feel shocked or horrified or panicked or even elated; she felt at peace. She felt like she’d been stumbling in the dark for years and turned a corner to find an unlocked door with sunlight streaming through the keyhole. She felt like she was home. Roger watched her patiently as she searched for her words, taking in her every move, every wayward glance and hitched breath.

“I thought,” she began finally, haltingly. “I thought you just...I don’t know. That you only ever wanted me because you couldn’t have me. That I was something to conquer, that you felt like you had to sleep with me because I was the only one who would have said no.”

Roger laughed at her, like it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “I never wanted to sleep with you, Calla. Well, I mean, that was part of it, sure, but that wasn’t everything. I wanted to marry you.”

He can’t mean that.

“You don’t believe in marriage,” she whispered.

“That’s true, I don’t. I don’t believe in marriage or fairytale endings or futures set in stone. Except, as it turns out, when I paint you into the picture...I sort of do.”

And then she could see it all, painfully vivid, like something she could reach out and touch: Roger sitting by the fireplace as he tore apart a critic’s review of Queen’s latest album, Roger gripping her waist at Freddie’s parties, Roger writing songs with her, Roger teaching her children how to tune a drumkit. Calla’s stomach dropped into freefall, and she thought: Oh god, I love him too.

“Anyway,” Roger said.

“Roger, I—”

“Don’t,” he cut her off. “I don’t need you to say anything, Calla. I really don’t. I realize you’re in a difficult position and I’m sorry and I don’t mean to pressure you into making some confession or promising me something that you don’t really want to give. I just needed you to know. And if that’s all it will ever be, just one moment of impulsive honestly we’ll never speak of again...that’s something I’ll find a way to live with.”

Calla gazed at Roger, sifting through him, trying to find a single atom that she didn’t understand, any shadowy corner that housed demons whose names she didn’t know, any part of him that she didn’t love so much it hurt like bones snapped into splinters. There was nothing, nothing.

“How are your scallops?” he asked, amused, knowing how ludicrous it was.

“Wonderful. Mollusky.”

They smiled at each other across the table, and all those things that had filled the space between them—Dominique, John, children, promises, impossibilities—vanished like stars in a dawn sky, burned out of the world’s vision from east to west.

Calla threw down her silverware. “I want a tattoo,” she announced.

“What? Like, in a general, nonimmediate way?”

“No, I mean I want one right now.”

“Oh.” Roger’s eyebrows shot up. “Okay, yeah, let’s go get you one.”

“Let’s do it.”

Roger flagged down the waiter. “Can we get the check? The lady wants to get inked up.” He slid on his sunglasses and scrutinized her closely. “Wait, are you sober enough for this?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“You sure? Because if you wake up tomorrow and regret this I’m going to feel like a world class idiot, and also no less than one of my bandmates will murder me. Do the nose-touch test or something.”

Calla, grinning, closed her eyes and touched the tip of her nose. “Want me to walk in a straight line too?”

“You’re hilarious. Let’s go, Yankee. Don’t forget your purse.”

They wandered through the streets of Munich, Roger’s arm hooked through hers, Calla’s heels clicking on the pavement, taxis passing and streetlights illuminating their path. After a while they found a tattoo parlor that was open, red and pink neon filling up the front window, illustrations of names and tribal designs and dragons testifying to the artist’s skill. They rushed inside, the bells on the door chiming cheerfully.

“Go stand over there,” Calla told Roger once they found the artist and made sure he spoke enough English to do the job, pointing to a wall of tattoo designs on the other side of the shop.

His brow furrowed in protest. “I really think I should approve this before you get it.”

Calla, chuckling, shooed him away. Roger reluctantly obliged. Calla conspired with the artist for a few minutes, he showed her some sketches, and she paid in cash. Then he led her to a chair at the back of the shop.

“Rog? You can come over now. I might need you for this part.”

“What are you getting?” he asked anxiously, pulling up a seat next to her.

“I can’t tell you that yet. But it’ll be right here.” She pointed to her left wrist, which the artist began to clean. Then he loaded the ink and needle into the tattoo gun.

Roger whistled. “Okay, well that’s going to hurt like a bitch, because you’ve barely got any meat there. So what you’re going to want to do is—”

The needle touched her skin, and Calla screamed. “Oh, ow!”

Roger nodded. “Yeah, exactly. So here, take my hand, take it.” She seized him with her right hand. “There you go. Now look at me, Cal—”

Raucous buzzing from the tattoo gun, tears filling up her eyes, overwhelming stinging pain. “Owwww...”

“Look at me, Callahan!”

She did, and his gaze locked with hers, and almost immediately the tattoo parlor around them began to dissolve away.

“Do you remember that time when Queen was playing this gig, this tiny little pub gig in the middle of nowhere, I think it was Camborne or something? And some punk in the audience called Fred a Paki, and you went right for him, and the guy gave you a hard time so Freddie leapt off the stage swinging his microphone stand like a fucking samurai and the whole place erupted in a massive drunken brawl?” Roger was giggling now, and so was she, the tears streaming down her cheeks now more hilarity and nostalgia than pain. “And we wrecked the place, utterly wrecked it. And of course we didn’t have five pounds between us. So you and Brian went and talked to the pub owner and brokered some deal that we wouldn’t have to pay if we worked for him the rest of the night. So there all five of us were in the kitchen, scrubbing dishes and mopping floors in our ridiculous concert attire and platform shoes, Brian’s hair pulled back in a ponytail, Freddie’s eyeliner smudged all over his face, and he was shouting at us that there would come a day when no one in Queen would ever have to wash so much as a single shot glass ever again in their lives.”

Calla nodded, laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe. “Oh my god, yes!”

“And that time you came home with me for Christmas and my mum made strawberry waffles because I’d told her you loved waffles, except you’re mildly allergic to strawberries and they make you puff up and go red as a fucking lobster, but you were too polite to tell her that, and you definitely wouldn’t let me tell her that, so you spent all Christmas breakfast trying to pretend you were eating waffles while you were actually dropping them on your lap for the dog, and my poor mum couldn’t figure out for the life of her why Jingles got horribly sick for days and puked all over the parlor rug?”

“Yes, and it was some beloved antique rug that had been in her family for generations, the heirloom Meddows rug!”

“And you ruined it!” Rog teased. “You and your preposterous strawberry allergy! And then there was that time...”

The sharp, biting pain was still present, but far away now, like jagged rocks submerged beneath the surf, like radiation from a distant star.

When the artist finished Calla’s tattoo, he coated it with ointment and wrapped her wrist in a clear bandage. She didn’t let Roger see it until they were back outside, huddled together under a streetlight, Calla holding out her left arm for him to study. In the night sky there were starless clouds and a breeze rolling into the city. A few odd raindrops landed on Calla’s forehead and shoulders.

“It’s an...arrow?”

“It’s a spear.”

“Oh...well, it’s lovely!” Roger proclaimed, ever-supportive if slightly bewildered.

Calla smiled at him. “What’s your name, Brit?”

“Roger Meddows Taylor.”

“And do you know where the name Roger came from, what it meant in Old German?”

“I surely don’t. But that sounds like something a European history fiend like you would be familiar with.”

Calla raised her wrist for emphasis. Slowly, his face broke into a grin.

“Spear.”

“Well, famous spear or warrior. But you get the idea.” And something about the design was old and undeniably mystical, reminiscent of castles and Celts, medieval legends, Arthur and Guinevere, doomed love.

“I fucking love it. I fucking love it, Cal.” Abruptly, like a flash of lighting, without thinking, Roger cradled her face and kissed her under the thin beam of white light while darkness and rain fell around them. His lips were soft and warm and careful, strikingly delicate, reverent. He pulled away from her. “I’m...” And she thought he would say he was sorry, that it had been a mistake, but he didn’t. Instead, he led her down the street, talking to her about everything—touring and the band and the album and his excitement for the future—and waving his arms expressively as he always did; but he could only use one hand to gesture with, because the other was suddenly holding hers.

Not even Freddie had a flat in Munich yet; almost all of the band and crew stayed in the Hilton. But Roger, never one to shun all the luxurious trappings of global fame, maintained a small apartment several blocks from the hotel. When they stopped on the sidewalk in front of it, he turned to her, wiping raindrops from his eyes.

“Do you...do you want to come upstairs for a sec? For tea or something?” He didn’t want her to leave, Calla could see that written all over him. She didn’t want to leave either.

“Yeah, Rog. I’d like that.” She followed him into the building, her fingers interlaced with his.

Roger’s new apartment was sparse and anonymous, grey and white furniture, entirely without his characteristic music posters and stacks of books and chaotic flare. There was only one fraction of the place that was truly his: a shelf above a couch that was full of framed photographs, of Queen concerts, recording sessions, impromptu stops at tourist destinations...and Calla. One of pictures was of her. It was a polaroid Mary had snapped at Thanksgiving dinner in 1971, a candid shot of Calla looking furtively over one shoulder as she reached to take a rum and coke from Roger’s hands. In that photo—and she couldn’t believe she actually thought it, but she did—Calla looked beautiful. And she saw herself as Roger must have, as he still did, as he always had. As Calla surveyed the living room, Rog rattled noisily around the kitchen. Then the clamor of dishes stopped, and there were footsteps behind her.

He grasped the zipper of her dress and slowly, agonizingly slowly, pulled it down from her shoulder blades to the small of her back. Cool air collided with her bare skin. Goosebumps rose all along her spine.

“Tell me to stop,” Roger whispered; but Calla didn’t say a word.

His hands slipped inside the open back of her dress, tracing her waist, her hips, climbing up over her ribs.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, thinking of her faint stretchmarks, her imperfect flesh, thinking of all the torturously stunning women he must have had in this apartment, of those he would one day bring here. “I’m sorry you never had me at my best.”

“Hey,” Roger chastised, spinning her around to face him. “You are always your best, okay? You are you. I don’t give a fuck about the rest. Look at me, Cal, look at me...are you looking? There you go. Good, now listen: you are always your best.”

Calla linked her fingers behind his neck and kissed him, grabbing a fistful of his hair, her lips moving ravenously with his. She stepped out of her heels, and her hands traveled down to wrench off his suit jacket; as she unfastened the buttons of his shirt, Roger tugged the straps of her dress off her shoulders. The fabric fell to the floor in a shapeless heap, empty, as intimate and useless as a second skin. Calla unbuckled his belt. Roger unhooked her bra. They tumbled onto the couch together and he caressed her cheeks with trembling hands.

“Oh my god, I’m nervous,” he marveled, laughing shakily. “I’m never nervous.”

“Rog?” Calla brushed his unruly blond hair out of his eyes, her ankles locking around him as he hovered above her. Her tattoo burned on her wrist, but she barely noticed.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

He hesitated, just for a moment, just long enough to gaze into her eyes and smile when he knew she meant it. Roger yanked his boxers down his legs, and they were gone. He hooked his thumbs under her black lace panties, and then they were gone too. And there was nothing between them but heat and whispers and desire.

Roger stopped abruptly. “Wait, not like this.”

He pulled Calla to her feet and led her back to the master bedroom, pausing to kiss her in every doorway. The apartment was filled with the sound of rain pattering against the windows, illuminated with episodic flashes of lightning. And when there were no more shadows, no more secrets, Calla knew for sure: there wasn’t a single shred of him that she didn’t love.

~~~~~~~~~~

The bathwater was dizzyingly hot, steam rising through the room and clouding the mirrors. Calla was careful to keep her fresh tattoo above the water. Roger was behind her, flicking the cigarette in his left hand over the ashtray balanced on the rim of the tub, his other arm wrapped around her waist, his lips pressed to her neck.

“What happens now?” he asked quietly.

Calla closed her eyes, steeling herself. You have to say it, you have to say it. “Now I go home to John, and you go home to Dominique.”

“Hmm?” Roger sat up, taking a draw off his smoke. “I don’t get you.”

Calla stood and stepped gingerly out of the tub, reaching for a towel. He watched her go, not understanding.

“Is that...is that what you want?”

“That’s the way it has to be,” she answered, slipping on a small floral robe that was hanging on the back of the bathroom door. Who was its original owner? Not Roger, that was for sure.

Rog followed her out of the tub and into the bedroom, pitching his cigarette into the water, wrapping a white towel around his waist. “So when did you want to...how did you want to...?” Then his eyes—pale and wide and seeking—met hers. “Oh,” he breathed, and it hit him like brass knuckles. “You aren’t leaving him.”

Calla swallowed, biting back tears. Her voice was barely a whisper. “This would destroy us, Roger.”

“I disagree completely.” He wasn’t just stunned, she realized: he was furious. “What, you’re suddenly feeling moralistic?”

“That isn’t...we could never...”

“So that’s it,” Roger snapped at her, “you like things the way they are now? You want to see me with other people? Do you enjoy that? Because I can tell you I sure as fuck don’t enjoy seeing you with John, it feels like hell, it feels like I’m being fucking gutted.”

“You’re not capable of fidelity, Roger. You never have been.”

“I could be, I could be for you, just let me try—”

“You would try,” Calla agreed. “And you would hate it, you would resent me, you would feel like a tiger in a cage, pacing and staring through the bars. And sooner or later you would fail, and then where would we be? We would destroy our families for nothing. We would destroy the love we have for each other for nothing.”

“But John can fuck around all he likes and it’s fine.” Calla flinched as if she’d been struck, and Roger regretted saying it immediately. He reached for her. “Cal, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Everything that John has done is because he wished he could be home.” That was the first time Calla had ever said those words aloud, and she instantly knew them to be true. “It’s the opposite for you. You love touring, you love fame, you love the lifestyle. Every time Queen gets more than a few weeks of downtime you’re diving into collaborations or solo work, you never get enough of it. And I’m not blaming you, that’s who you are, I wouldn’t change you, I wouldn’t take any of that away from you. But that’s not the life for me.”

“You can come with me,” Rog said desperately. “You can travel the world with me. You don’t have to wait for me to come home.”

“I have children, Roger.”

“So do I!”

“And you have Dom. You have someone at home you can trust with him. And you have someone who can handle the kind of life you want, who knew exactly what she was signing up for.”

Roger shook his head. “This is such fucking bullshit, Calla, I want you.”

“Last year, Queen, all four of you, had interviews published in NME. One of the questions asked about your favorite place to be. Do you recall your answer?”

He had to think for a moment. “Anywhere but home,” he remembered with horror, knowing the war was lost.

“And it wasn’t just some smart jab at John or You’re My Best Friend. That’s the truth, isn’t it? You hate being home. It makes you bored, irritable, it makes you feel trapped. And having me there waiting for you isn’t going to change that.”

Roger stared at his feet and said nothing.

“I refuse to turn you into someone who is torn and bitter and caged. I refuse to be the bear trap around your ankle. I love you too much for that.”

I have to walk away. I have to be the one to close the door. Because he won’t do it.

“Roger...trying to force you to be the kind of husband I need would be the most selfish thing I’ve ever done.”

“Okay,” he said tonelessly. “Okay, I get it. I understand.”

In the silence, Calla readied herself: she fixed her hair, slipped on her bra and panties, stepped back into her heels and dress. When she struggled to reach the zipper, Roger appeared behind her and zipped the dress up without a word.

“I hope...” He gestured vaguely around the apartment. “I hope this isn’t something you’re going to regret later. Because I don’t regret it at all. And I hope you won’t forget about me, because—lack of consensus over the finer details notwithstanding—I would very much like to be a permanent fixture in your life.”

Calla raised her bandaged tattoo. “Rog, there’s nothing temporary about you.”

And remarkably, like the sun splitting storm clouds after rain, he smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~

Calla unlocked the door to the hotel suite expecting to be greeted by unceremonious darkness. Instead, John was bustling around the kitchen under bright lights, setting mugs on the counter, rinsing out the kettle in the sink. He turned to her and gestured to the table.

“Have a seat.”

“Sure.” But Calla didn’t move. It felt like she was ankle-deep in cement. Does he know? How could he know?

John’s eyes flicked down to her wrist. His brow furrowed with concern. “What have you got there?”

“Oh. It’s, uh, it’s a tattoo.”

“...Okay.” That was all. No rageful Where have you been?! No What the fuck were you thinking? Not even a condescending Reliving our reckless youth, are we? Just him watching her, a little puzzled, a little worried, a little grief-stricken over the space that had opened up between them, of all the words they didn’t say. “Have a seat,” John said again. Calla sank into the nearest chair. He brought her a breakfast tea with three sugars, exactly as she liked it. “Rog showed you how to have a good time in Munich?”

Oh no. “He did. Dinner and a few clubs. The scene wasn’t great, so we didn’t last long.”

“Roger’s always one for a party. Did you happen to stop in a place called Rote Sonne? Fred said it’s a great disco. I’d love to give it a try.”

And then Calla realized that John wasn’t hinting at anything, he wasn’t trying to extract an admission of disgrace. He believed her. She didn’t hear it coming: the shock, the guilt. One instant it was nowhere; the next it was running her down like a freight train, the horn piercing through still air, wheels screaming on metal rails. You’re no better than he is. You might even be worse. “Not this time.”

John nodded. “Drink your tea.”

Obediently, Calla took a sip.

John ran his hands through his hair and leaned against the kitchen counter. He was trying to channel his thoughts into words. He was trying to tell her something important.

“John...”

“Listen,” he said. “Having you here with the band has been incredible. Spending days with you, coming home to you, getting your ideas in the studio...it’s good for everyone. Not just me. For Queen too. Fred is working better than he has in months. He’s...well, you know, you see it. He’s changed a lot. He’s...” John waved his hand, searching for the word. Calla didn’t think there was a word for it, but she knew what John meant: Freddie was distracted, rarely sober, increasingly despotic, always in the company of Paul Prenter or some other sycophant who would ply Fred with every substance under the sun to keep him compliant. Maybe there was a word for it. Maybe that word was lost.

“I’m worried about him,” Calla said.

“When are you not worried about someone?” John asked, smiling wanly. “But that’s what I mean. He’s better when you’re around. We all are. And I...I haven’t given you what you deserve. I know that. And I want to be better for you.”

Calla considered him. It wasn’t a confession, but it was probably the closest thing she would ever get to one. “I haven’t been perfect either.”

John rolled his eyes. “Yeah fucking right.” He lit a cigarette. “I want to be on the road as little as possible. I want you to visit us when we’re on tour, as often as you can. I’ll fly you and the kids in and put you up in the band’s hotel. And when I’m home, I want to really be home: no collaborations, no business except for the finances. And most importantly, I want you to know that all of this”—he gestured to the hotel suite, to Munich, to the recording trip—“is temporary. Freddie can’t keep going the way he is now. Brian is always skulking around wringing his hands, he’s more neurotic than ever. Roger is doing solo work that lets him finally get the high of being a frontman. Within a few years, Queen will be over, or at the very least we’ll be on a hiatus. And I’ll be home, Calla. I’ll finally be home.”

She shook her head, not in disagreement but in disbelief. Could Queen ever be over, something that existed only in photos and records and legend? It was horrible to think about; but there was something intriguing about it too, something full of promise.

John crossed the kitchen and Calla stood to meet him. “I’m going to make this right,” he whispered. “I’m going to give you everything.”

Calla remembered thinking once that if Roger was rain then John was the ocean: something deeper, older, more primal, constant. Was that still true? Did it matter?

Either way, she was drowning. 

[averyrogers83]

Shared Birthdays

Authors: Darlin’ and Vixen ( @shield-agent78 and @averyrogers83)

Warnings: Smut, fluff, more smut

Rating: NSFW 18+ NO MINORS ALLOWED

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You and Steve have been together for a couple years now, you both share the same birthday, but have not been in the same place to celebrate it together till now.

Square Filled: Steve Rogers for Marvel Bingo @marvelbingo by @shield-agent78

Words: 1825

A/N: Another collaborative fic from the smut duo of Darlin’ and Vixen to celebrate the one and only Steven Grant Rogers “Captain America” and his birthday. Beautiful header designed by our own lovely @hotoffthepressfics

Since you and Steve started dating neither of you have had the chance to spend your birthday together.  The only two of the Avengers who shared a birthday on the birth of the nation, Independence Day.  He was either on a mission or vice versa, never together on your special day, so why would this year be any different.  

Nat and Wanda decided to take your mind off the whole missing your man thing by throwing a BBQ/pool party, even though you were adamant about not wanting a party or were even in the mood to celebrate without your best guy with you.

The day was lovely you stretched your limbs out on the chaise lounge wearing your favorite bikini. A red, white, and blue number you picked up just in case if Steve had gotten home. You close your eyes and layback turning the music up on your earbuds. Suddenly, your sun was blocked by a tall shadow.  

“Hey, do you mind, Buckoo” you sassed “You’re screwing up my tan.” A hearty chuckle left his lips as you eyes snapped open wide. There in front of you stood the dirty-blond god wearing his blue and white polka dot swim trunks.  You jumped up from the lounge chair and into his arms. You were so excited you knocked the two of you into the pool. Splash!

Steve’s large arms held onto your waist as you both kicked up the surface, you sputtered and coughed a little than locked your arms around his neck. “I’m so glad you’re here…When did you get back?”

“About an hour ago. Couldn’t let my best girl down on her birthday.”

“Our birthday.” You corrected him then placed a soft kiss on his lips. Steve grinned and helped you out of the pool. “What would you like to do first birthday boy?” You teased running your hands down his taut chest. “We have a little bit before lunch is ready.”

“Whatever you want, I just want to be with you.” You smile and take his hand leading him to a table that is set up for gifts. You reach your hand behind a box and retrieve an envelope with his name on it.

“It was hard coming up with something to get Captain America for his Birthday.” you smirk, “A man whose been around for…wow…a really long time.” you tease.  

“Just remember this old man can still take you over his knee, sweetheart.”

“Oh really, you think so?” your eyes narrowed, taunting him “Bring it old man.”

Steve leans over to you, his hot breath fanning on your ear. “I know so,” he smirks.

“Open your gift Cap,” you tease pulling back from him some. Steve’s long fingers opens the card and reads it. It has a picture of a cake on it with lots of candles. ‘Blow this and I’ll blow you…’ Steve looks up with a glint in his eyes. You get bat your eyelashes at him giving him an innocent look. He opens the card as his eyes immediately widen in surprise.

“These are…these are, Yankees season tickets.” He stutters excitedly.

“Yep. You catch on fast old man,” you laugh. “I thought maybe you could take Bucky with you. I know how you love the Yankees.”

“You know that this is the second time you called me old, Doll.”  

“Yeah, and whatcha going to do about it?” Steve gives you a flirtatious smirk, places the card back onto the table and picks you up throwing you over his shoulder.

You let out a yelp and he carries you inside. Your face turning red from laughing so hard, “Steve, where are you taking me?” you ask when you noticed he wasn’t taking you to the room the two of you shared. Steve chuckles and whaks you on your bottom. “Ow, hey!”

“Hum left or right,” he ponders as he glances down the hall. The left leads to the garage and right outside to a hot tub. “Which way baby girl?” he asks his voice dropping an octave giving you chills. “I think right.”

You could feel the heat right between your legs at the thought of him having his way with you in the hot tub. You fantasized about what it would be like. “Oh, I’ve always wanted to do it in the hot tub.” you cooed.  

“Maybe we’ll go to the garage instead.” He teasingly starts to go in the opposite direction.

“Oh, we can do it on your bike. I’ve always wanted to try that.” Steve just shakes his head giving a chuckle.  

“Maybe…,” he mumbles. He turns right and heads out of the door towards the secluded hot tub. “FRIDAY. No interruptions.”

“Yes Captain.” The A.I. responds as you hear the doors click and lock.  The two of you now alone in the dimly lit garden oasis.

“Strip,” he commands leaving no room for argument. Steve gives you a hungry stare as he runs his wet tongue over his bottom lip.

“Yes, sir” you whisper as you slowly untie your bikini top and let it fall to the floor exposing your ample bosom the heat rushing to your face as you feel exposed. Steve cocks his head at you and runs his eyes slowly over you checking you out. His glare makes you feel a mix between a fairy tale princess and sex goddess You slip off the bottoms and stand before him naked the heat that is between you is radiating. The way he looked at you made you feel vulnerable, you weren’t sure why he has seen you naked so many times before.  You try to cover yourself up with your arms, but Steve rakes his darkening ocean blue eyes over your body, steps closer and moves your arms so he can see all of you.

“Don’t,” he commands softly. His fingertips bush down the right side of your neck then down toward your bosom. “You have a very intoxicating effect on me Mrs. Rogers.” Your heart races as your shiver under his skilled fingers as your brain tries to process his words. His soft lips brush against your neck as you hold onto his large muscled biceps. Your mind races as you try to make sense of what’s going on, but his assault on your body is too overwhelming, all she can think about is letting him have his way with her.  To do what whatever he wanted.  You moan with each caress.  

He slowly moves you two towards the hot tub behind you. You run your hands down the waistband of his trunks and begin pushing them down as you give America’s ass a little swat. “Mrs. Rogers,” Steve growls out again but you are so lost in this man you don’t process his words. He stops and steps out of his trunks kicking them to the side while stepping you backwards onto the steps of the hot tub. The water lapping at yours and Steve’s feet playfully. “Now what did you say about me being old?” He smirks backing you into the middle of the tub. You run your hands down his back feeling each taught muscle while giving him a flirtatious smile.

“Me?” you state coyly “I didn’t say any such thing.” you fake a southern accent trying to sound innocent.

“Ahugh,” he nods. “You, Mrs. Rogers.” Your eyes widen as you finally catch onto his words.

“I augh, can you augh. . re..peat that please, Sir.”

“I said…Mrs. Rogers…that I’m going to teach you a lesson or two for calling me old.” Your mouth moves but you can’t form any words over your racing heartbeat. Steve pulls you closer to him his erection rubs against your hip as he nips your neck playfully. His hands roll your nipples giving them a pinch making them hard under his skilled touch. “Can an old man treat you like this?” You let out a moan and shake your head no. “Words,” he commands softly as heat spreads throughout your body.

“Yes, I mean no. Wait what did you ca…call me?”

“Later.” Steve states with authority leaving no room for argument. His lust blown eyes lock on your y/c/e as he leans down and nips your lip playfully. Steve’s hands find your hips as he turns you facing the edge of the hot tub. “Hands on the edge.” His teeth nips the back of your neck then he soothes the spots running his flat tongue over them causing you to moan out in pleasure. You do as you are told as you spread your legs waiting.  He takes his left hand and gives his cock a pump as precum drips from the shaft. There is no time to adjust as Steve pounds into you balls deep with a loud grunt.

“Augh. .fu. .” you head tips back onto his shoulder. One hand reaches over and massages your clit as the other wraps around your waist pulling you flush towards him. Your walls clench around his cock and he continues pumping into you furiously, making your body quiver with each thrust, bringing you to the edge of ecstasy.  

“Can. .an. .old. .man. .do. .this. .to. .you?” Steve grunts as he pushes his cock deeper inside you hitting you in all the right spots to make you scream out his name.

“Fu…No!” you exclaim.

“No, what baby girl.” He continues his thrusts

“No…No, sir. Please, Steve…don’t stop.” You try to catch your breath.  “Baby, I need to cum..Please!” you plead for release.

“Come for me, Sweetheart,” he coos “Come for your Captain,” he grunts softly in your ear. You grasped the ledge so hard your knuckles turned white, your walls clenched around him bringing the both of you over the edge, coming together.  Your body spent from the exertion his arms wrapped around you as you pressed your back against his chest and tried to catch your breath.

Finally able to find your footing you turned and faced the man you loved…”I will never call you an old man again…” you smiled. “And for the record, you can make me come just by the sound of your voice.” Steve smirks as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Is that so Mrs. Rogers?” Your eyes widen in response.

“St..Steve..did you ju…just call me Mrs. Rogers?”

“Ya, several times,” he responds quietly. “ Happy birthday, baby.”

“Yes, Steve. Oh, yes.” You pepper his face with kisses. Steve pulls you into his massive arms, hands scooping your ass out of the water as you wrap your legs around him. . “Best shared birthday ever, you mumble as he eases into you.

You came twice more as the two of you made love in the hot tub, water splashing everywhere, thankfully you were too far away from everyone else by the pool or else they would be able to hear your cries of ecstasy.