#this one is also. considerably more openly fucked up then the other fic. even if its hidden behind flowery language uh. take it seriously.

[azrielhours]

What about virgin Cass and Rhys the absolute menaces 😂 I wonder how that would go.

Omg thank you for asking!! Let’s explore this can of worms 🥴😈

Rhys is the first to lose his virginity because he’s the High Lords son. He’s flirtatious and smooth. He’s like Dorian at the beginning of tog, sweet and chivalrous but a horn dog with many lovers. He used to flirt with the daughters of nobility who were older than him and he loved making them blush.

Women have always found him beautiful and he could tell bc of how they reacted but also bc of his daemati powers. So Rhys has quite the ego even before he’s ever bedded a female. He’s considerate and attentive but keeps his emotions to himself and doesn’t get attached.

His first time is with a Lord’s daughter from his father’s court. He absolutely kept it to himself that it was his first time lmao. He’s very exploratory and isn’t shy about it. Obviously he’s not as good at it as he becomes later, but his curiosity alone helps him satisfy the girl bc he wants to try so much, even if he’s already finished.

Like not to get too explicit but even if he got his, he’d be eager to do a lot of other things literally out of curiosity and that gets the job done for the girl. Rhys tells Cassian all about it after. Cassian listens carefully and wants to bed a woman at that point.

So Cass was the second. Less confident than Rhys but a gentle giant even as a young man. I see him being super into girls and flirting openly, talking himself up and when he actually manages to talk a girl into taking him home, he’s more in over his head than he anticipated. His sweetness makes up for the fact that he didn’t make the girl finish. Months later when he gets good at it, he goes back to her to satisfy her properly.

I can see Cass getting slightly emotionally attached to the girl he loses his virginity to, but he gets over it eventually. Cass goes back to the same lovers more frequently than Rhys does, and we know canonically that he’s the only one that’s had a serious relationship before.

Cassian and Rhys have an easier time showing their sweeter side to women in bed compared to Az, especially if they’re softer or shyer girls. Cassian would be more sweetness and Rhys is more charm, if that discernment makes sense. Cassian would be keenly aware of his hulking frame and try very hard to make it comfortable.

His and Azriel’s first times were at Windhaven with the girls at the camp. There was probably a lot of unabashed talk amongst the other young Illyrians at the camp about fucking women, and that’s where the guys learn about sex, so when they finally do it, they have a rough idea of what’s expected.

Though I feel like I did Az justice in my fic, I think it would likely be a little clumsier irl unless he lucked out and did it w a girl who knew what she was doing. I think he’d be eager to please and do it relatively well, but his more reserved nature would prevent much communication, and he’d be nervous for sure. He’d want to be gentle but wouldn’t quite know the words to say, but the intention is certainly there.

The main thing I tried showing in the fic is that he’s literally never known intimacy or gentleness, like he went from his prison cell to war camp. So when it comes to bedding a woman, he’s gonna be really taken aback by how soft it can be. He’d learn through practice over the years that there is gentleness to be found in intimacy.

I don’t see him being in literally any relationship outside of hookups bc he’s been in love w Mor for centuries, so a lot of his experiences with women and femininity comes from sex. He learns about being a gentleman from that. So sex becomes highly exploratory for him. That’s when he starts getting a little wilder lol but that comes a whileeee later.

He's very attentive and notices every detail and gets good at it pretty fast even if he doesn’t talk about it as freely as Cass or Rhys do. I see him using his shadows to help determine if the girl is enjoying herself.

Cassian tells feyre literally the day they meet her that he, Rhys, and Az all love fucking so this is absolutely an area Azriel let’s himself indulge in, especially bc he knows such little intimacy in his life outside sex.

#acotar headcanons #this was so fun I love group therapy

[traumatictouch]

tomura is nicer than you think he is

people are allowed to write characters however makes them happy, but i wish there were an equal amount of people who paid attention to his canon characterization too. i wish i could find a fic or two that doesn't make him a tsundere (he's not one - though i understand the appeal) or weirdly mean to his friends (he's usually very chill!!)

he let toga hold a knife to his neck. he let spinner grab him by the collar of his shirt and yell in his face. he let dabi tell him he didn't give a shit about his tragic backstory and wasn't gonna stick around to help directly. he let twice tackle him to the ground and all he had to say was "wow, you multiplied yourself! good job!"

so, heres a long post explaining where canon tomura is much different from fanon tomura - mostly in terms of how he treats his team, his general understanding of other people, and his actually very mellow attitude. ft. lots of manga panels as evidence

when twice tells him he can't duplicate the bullets like he wants him to, tomura doesn't lash out or berate him, even though he's visibly disappointed. (and honestly? the fact that tomura is willing to accept that twice won't duplicate himself "for personal reasons" and is never shown pressuring him to or chewing him out over it, is pretty telling in itself.)

tomura actually has pretty good people-senses. he knew toga held a knife to his throat because she wasnt sure she could trust him anymore, and he immediately made himself vulnerable and assured her (and twice) that he was acting in their best interest.

he knew how to act casual when uraraka caught him with midoriya. he knows how to be polite to people he likes or wants something from. he calls stain "daisenpai" (translated as “sir” below) which, to my understanding, is EXTREMELY respectful and very specifically means tomura is openly admitting hes BELOW stain in terms of experience and ranking. (I'm also pretty sure this means he thinks of being a villain like a job, which is pretty cute)

also, some other times he reassures his team on-screen,

the image above has always been so striking to me. twice is probably expecting some scolding and is quick to promise he was being careful (after all, he did get fired over a single mistake before), and tomura just... immediately believes him. he doesn't accuse him of lying, he doesnt berate him for being careless or dumb or anything. tomura just believes that he did he his best, and assures him that, yeah, it was probably one of their quirks.

in fact, his actual scolding or other responses when his allies have genuinely struck a nerve with him have always been pretty mellow, too. i dont remember a time hes lashed out at or insulted any of his friends (besides kurogiri, but like, theyre Close) the way i often see represented in fanworks.

when he kidnaps bakugou- which seems to have partially been done out of a genuine desire to help him, in whatever fucked up way tomura thought was best (you have to keep in mind that tomura genuinely thinks what afo put him through was, like, good)-

- he immediately starts calling him "bakugou-kun" and trying to reach him in a way he thinks he’ll relate to. he subtly compliments him, tries appealing to what he figures bakugous struggles are, and just generally tries to make him feel understood (which may not necessarily be kind in context, but that sort of manipulation requires you to have some understanding of what other peoples motives, thoughts and feelings are, which is pretty good groundwork for kindness.)

he's very open about it when he likes someone or is impressed by them (you know, the exact opposite of a tsundere.) whether they're a hero, or a child, or a part of his team; he'll compliment and praise people to their faces, even in front of others. he did this as early as USJ. he also didnt seem to mind the league seeing his blatant adoration and attachment to afo during kamino or the aftermath.

i know its been debated as to whether tomura actually cares about his teams desires, or if hes just using them as a means to an end, but personally i think he really does care. there have been multiple times where he took his teams wants into consideration even when it didnt immediately benefit him. hell, when the liberation army surrendered and offered their resources to the LoV, tomura's first thought was his friends’ wants.

also this.

tomura has calmed down A LOT since the beginning of the series, and even back then i think he was calmer than people give him credit for. and you have to keep in mind that, after all tomura's been through, after everything he's been taught about humanity and the world, after afo practically tried to torture all his empathy and affection for his fellow people out of him, tomura is still understanding and patient and good to his friends. maybe that's the bare minimum for people who were raised in a traditional way, but that's not what happened to tomura, and i think it's very meaningful that he still has those traits despite it all.

and I'd love to see this reflected in more fanworks and meta about him! he's such an incredibly complex and well-made character, so it's disappointing to see how often he gets reduced to some very basic ~evil~ traits that he doesn't even have to begin with.

#tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #tenko shimura #bnha #boku no hero academia #long post #meta #(i think.) #ooc #bnha manga spoilers #mha manga spoilers

[safertokiss]

Lost in Translation

A/N: Heyyyyy guys...remember when I used to post like every two weeks? Yeesh that’s awkward...but I’m backkkkk woooooooo party time! I was so excited that my discord buddies organized another fic swap because it was so much fun the first time. This time around I was chosen to write a doozy for the wonderful @writing-in-april and I have decided to bless you all with a beautiful subby boy. Sub Spencer lives in my head rent free, no cap. So sit back, relax and pretend it's you getting fricken railed. Peace out girl scouts;)

Pairing: SPENCER x READER

Category: SMUT hehe oh yeah and fluff

Word Count: 4.8k

ENJOY:)

~~~

MASTERLIST

~~~

For as long as she could remember, Y/n had always wanted to learn Russian.

So, naturally, when she found out that their newest case involved two lovers who also happened to be Russian criminals trying to escape the United States government, she simply couldn’t help but jump at the opportunity to become more involved in the investigation. 

It’s not that she’d never been on a stakeout for the Bureau before, in fact she’d probably been on so many at this point that she’d lost count. The only difference that this specific stakeout brought to her life was the fact that it was her first one to have ever been shared with Spencer Reid.

Her and the young doctor had lived in the same apartment building since her first day at the BAU, but their relationship pretty much began and ended at that. Of course they greeted each other whenever they passed in the halls of their building and ricocheted off of each other’s theories whenever necessary during their meetings in the round table room, but it would be a lie to label their relationship as anything other than casual acquaintances as well as amicable coworkers. 

She had never been able to fully get a grasp on the elusive Dr. Reid. The fact that he was already such an integral member of the F.B.I. at the ripe age of 25 astounded and, well to be honest, perplexed her. Not that she doubted his abilities or intelligence in any way, quite the opposite really. She admired how utterly brilliant he proved to be day in and day out, even with the shy exterior he presented himself with to the world. Well, shy was definitely more of an understatement. 

She had never met someone more socially awkward in her entire life, but with that being said, she couldn’t help but find it endearing and pretty dang adorable. Y/n constantly found herself enjoying his pathetic attempts at human interaction on a daily basis. From the nervous stutters to the out of this world hand gestures, there was much for her to dissect about the young doctor. And while she could openly admit that he was quite easy on the eyes, in a boyish-innocent kind of way, she had never really been able to see him in that sort of light.

If she thought his normal social interaction skills were entertaining to witness, his reactions to any of the conversations that took a more raunchy turn were to die for. The speed at which his features would ripen red like a tomato whenever anything of a sexual nature was brought up during cases was truly amazing, impressive even. However, unlike the rest of their team, she knew he wasn’t completely innocent. The walls in their apartment were as good as paper when it came to thickness, so it wasn’t that big surprise that the sounds created within them carried fairly well. 

Or at least that was what she had discovered after the first night she heard him touching himself just through her bedroom wall. 

Yes, it was less than ideal that their bedroom walls just happened to be adjacent to each other, but what could she do about it? It wasn’t as though she never sought out her own pleasure while alone in her apartment...although she would bet money that she was much better at withholding her noises. Instead, she learned to adapt to the sounds from next door and continue on with her life, having accepted that guys will in fact be dudes, no matter how innocent and meek they may appear.

When her boss had explained the nature of the assignment to them, there wasn’t anything of significance that had jumped out at her. It was all pretty standard instruction. They would wait, parked, in a government issued SUV overnight at a location close to the whereabouts of the criminals and simply translate their conversations using the mics that were planted prior. While Hotch knew that Y/n herself couldn’t understand Russian, it was common knowledge that the resident genius easily could transcribe the language.

And that was how she found herself cramped next to Spencer Reid in the stagnant vehicle, pen and paper in hand, patiently waiting for the translations to begin. 

It was almost completely silent inside the car, apart from the quiet whirring of the heat coming through the vents, and she could basically feel the nerves coming off of the man next to her in waves. That’s why she was completely thrown off her game when his timid voice was the first to break through the silence that had encompassed the space they inhabited together.

“So um Y/n..h-how have you been recently?”

She did her best to hide the small smirk that started to form on her face from the stuttering mess that spilled out of his mouth. She definitely didn’t want to make him feel even worse about himself so she decided to humour his adorable attempt at conversation with her...well...sort of.

“Oh ya know Reid, just counting the days until I get some action. How about you?” If she  thought he was sputtering nervously before, that was nothing compared to this treasure.

“Oh um well uh I-I mean...I don-I don’t...uh...w-what was the question a-again?”

This time she couldn’t stop the airy chuckle that escaped her lips as she leaned over and patted him gently on his thigh.

“Relax Reid, I’m just fucking around with you. Well for the most part...I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to some action, but that’s a whole can of worms I am not about to open during a stakeout”, Y/n laughed, not at all missing the steadily spreading blush that coated his sharp features.

“Yeah...no..yeah right of course...I t-totally knew you were just um fu-messing with me! Uh we should probably um r-review our assignment...you know just so we’re all s-set before we start.” How adorable.

“Aye-aye captain Reid. Ok so..”, she muttered while fiddling with the listening device to secure the right frequency. “...we just have to wait until they get back so we’re in range of their conversations. That’s when you’ll have your time to shine and prove yourself as the resident genius once again. And I’m sure that you’re aware that I don’t know a lick of the Russian language so I will be the best damn transcriber for you that the world has ever seen”, she finished with a smirk. 

Even Reid chuckled a bit at her words, the ever-present blush slowly creeping back upon his face and neck. 

“I’ll uh-I’ll hold you to that then.” Y/n had to admit she particularly liked to see the boy smiling, especially when it was the result of her own words. His innocence seemed to call out to her like a siren and she didn’t know how to feel about it.

“Oh-oh there they are! Ok get the pen and paper ready because as soon as they’re in range I’ll start translating.”

Getting themselves situated, they waited the few seconds it took for the couple to get close enough to the vicinity of the SUV for their conversations to begin to be broadcasted through their system.

“Как вы думаете, они идут по нашему следу?”

“Do you think they’re on our trail?”, Spencer easily understands, leaning slightly closer to her so his words were clearly heard.

“Ни за что. У этих глупых американцев нет шансов поймать нас.”

“No way. Those stupid Americans don’t stand a chance at catching us.”

At this point, the couple had already disappeared behind the door at the entrance of their current base, leaving only their words to give the closely listening agents much needed context clues.

“Я когда-нибудь говорил тебе, как сильно мне нравится твоя уверенность?”

“Have I ever told you how much I love your confidence?” 

Even Spencer let himself smile at the chuckle that left Y/n’s lips. “Awww how cute...they’re flirting with each other over mass murder. I strive for that kind of intimacy.”

“Да у тебя есть. Но почему бы тебе не показать мне, насколько тебе это нравится.”

“Yes, you have. But why don’t you show me just how much you love it.”

Uh oh, Y/n thought to herself. Not a second after the untimely thought permeated her brain, the sounds of wet lips sloppily colliding against each other filled the otherwise silent vehicle. After the few seconds of shock wore off, their heads whipped to face each other, eyes wide and mouths wide open. “Huh...well this was certainly an unexpected turn.”

“I uh um-uh well w-what do we do now?”, Tomato Boy nervously sputtered out over the chorus of moans and groans that were currently bouncing off the SUV’s walls. As unexpected as the present situation was, she was absolutely eating up his reaction to the crude sounds.

“Well, Hotch did say he wanted us to take down every single word that was shared between them so...I guess we’re just gonna have to keep moving forward with the translations. You can do that, can’t you Reid?”, she explained, not even attempting to hide the growing smirk on her face.

“Yeah! Yes! Mhmm I can do that, I c-can definitely do t-that.”, he gushed, trying to subtly clear his throat to clear the steadily growing tension in his body.

“Good to hear, Doc.”, she cheekily replied just as the raunchy sounds echoing through the system transitioned to different methods of communication, more legible ones.

“Ты была для меня такой хорошей девочкой. Я думаю, ты заслуживаешь награды.”

Quickly clearing his throat once more, he jumped back into action, with what Y/n noticed was considerably less confidence than before. “You’ve b-been such a good g-girl for me. I think you deserve a r-reward.” Spencer’s voice had noticeably dropped to a whisper by the end of the sentence, forcing Y/n to lean closer to be able to hear his translations, only magnifying the already present tension in the air. 

“Пожалуйста, папа, я сделаю что угодно.”

“P-please daddy.” His voice broke at the end igniting something deep inside Y/n’s being. “I’ll do anything.” In that moment she truly believed he would do anything, his own words or not, based on the obvious strain in his pants that her eyes glanced over, and also by the way his skin completely succumbed to goosebumps as her warm breath caressed the shell of his ear. She didn’t really know what the hell was happening, why her body was absolutely loving the way he gradually leaned into her’s, submitting all of his vulnerabilities into her hands. 

“Тебе это нравится, не так ли, маленькая шлюшка. Как член папы глубоко внутри тебя?”

She watched the way he inhaled a deep breath and released a high-pitched sigh before continuing on, subtly pressing her legs together to control the excitement thrumming through her body at his pathetic tone and mannerisms. 

“You like t-that don’t you, you little-uh-you little s-slut?” From their close proximity, she could clearly make out the speedy heartbeat clambering against his chest as he spoke. And if that was the case, he must’ve been able to feel hers as well. “Like daddy’s c-cock deep inside of y-you?” She could’ve sworn she saw his dick twitch slightly in his pants.

“Маленькая шлюшка уже придет за мной? Тогда умоляйте об этом. Бля, умоляю позволить тебе кончить.”

Y/n certainly did not miss the airy sigh that escaped his lips, watching as a bead of sweat dripped down his temple, confidently guessing it was not from the heat that had been coming through the vents.

“Is the little-little s-slut gonna come for me already? B-beg for it then. Fucking beg f-for me to let you c-come.” Spencer was speedily falling apart at the seams and she was loving it. More than loving it. She was craving it. Craving the little noises that he was trying to stop from escaping his lips. Craving the way he slightly bounced his leg in an attempt to control his arousal, which was futile because it had obviously already reached its full potential in the confines of his khaki slacks. 

“Пожалуйста, папа. Пожалуйста, позволь мне прийти. Мне это надо. Пожалуйста.”

Without even hearing the words translated back to her, she could hear the utter desperation in the girl’s voice. She no longer needed to understand the Russian language to be able to finish the translation, and as she sat there with her thighs tightly pressed together, she knew exactly what it meant.

“Please!” The utter need that was present in the original audio was somehow mirrored perfectly by the young doctor’s breathy voice, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, a prominent vein popping through the skin of his smooth forehead. “Please, p-please, please let me come. I n-need it. Please!”

“Приди за мной, детка.”

Deciding that she could regret her actions in the morning, Y/n quickly grabbed his face before he could translate, angling his head so she could whisper directly into his ear at the same time he spoke the last line of the night.

“Come for me baby.”, they both spoke at the exact same time.

Pulling away as fast as possible, she watched his clamped eyes shoot open as the most obnoxiously loud moan she had ever heard escaped the poor kid, his whole body spasming as a result. And using the large stain on the crotch of his pants as a guide, she was pretty certain she knew what had happened.

For the next few minutes there was silence in the SUV, apart from Spencer’s heavy breathing as he came down of course, leading them to believe the couple had fallen asleep after their...activities. Of course she wanted nothing more than to tease the trembling mess next to her, but she could already tell he was mortified beyond belief because of what happened so she didn’t want to make it any worse for him than it already was. 

After waiting a few extra minutes just to make sure that they had actually gone to sleep, the pair drove away from the stakeout location, Spencer not having said a word since his...big finish. As much as she loved watching him fall apart in front of her, she really didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable around her. 

“Well that was certainly an unexpected turn of events for the night, huh?”, she said, lightly chuckling with the intent of lightening his mood. She was very glad to see it had the intended effect.

“Uh y-yeah...you could definitely say that again.”, he mumbled with the ghost of a smile on his plump lips, though she could still clearly make out the blush coating his features.

“So hey, I know that you usually take the metro, but I’d be more than happy to give you a ride home after we drop the SUV off at the office if you want.”, she warmly smiled in his direction without taking her eyes completely off the road.

“Oh um..yeah that would be perfect. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it Reid.”

~~~

The rest of the ride back to the office was pretty much spent in silence, but it was much more comfortable than it had been before, which was a huge relief. After dropping the keys to the SUV in the lock box inside, the two agents piled into Y/n’s car to go back home to their shared building. On their way back she considered just asking him if he wanted to ride with her everyday just to make his life a little easier in the long run.

Once they got to the parking lot and exited the vehicle, they began walking towards the entrance together, the awkward tension from before creeping back into the air around them. Soon enough, they found themselves standing in front of their respective doors, both unsure of how they were supposed to end the night’s interactions. After a few moments of painful silence and eye contact, Y/n was the first one to rip off the band-aid.

“So...I guess I’ll see you tomorrow Reid?” He seemed to be broken out of his trance by the sound of her voice, snapping back to attention.

“Huh? Oh yeah uh yes of course. S-see you tomorrow Y/n. Goodnight.” He scampered into his apartment before she could even get a chance to respond to his bidding.

“Goodnight.”, she whispered to no one other than herself as she unlocked her door and headed inside to shower quickly before diving into her soft sheets.

She was sitting up in her bed, book in hand, with only the small glow of her reading lamp illuminating her room when she heard it. Of course she knew immediately what they were, a talent that had developed and strengthened from living adjacent to a pretty much pubescent boy.

The tell-tale sound of moans and groans vibrating right through her wall.

She knew she probably shouldn’t be listening, something about a violation of privacy or whatever, but she just couldn’t help it. He sounded so desperate it was driving her insane. So much in fact that she was in the process of skimming her own hand downwards when she was interrupted by a certain something from the Doc’s room.

“Y/n! Oh god, please. Please.”

Oh. Oh.

Not even giving herself a second to consider her actions, she was up on her feet basically sprinting to his door, pajamas and all. Not even bothering with knocking, she noticed it was unlocked and let herself in, beelining for what she assumed was his bedroom by the increasing volume as she approached it. Standing in his doorframe, she was utterly mesmerized. There he was, sprawled across his sheets, completely bare with sweat coating his hair as he rapidly pumped his angry, red cock, her name tumbling from his lips like a chant.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” She smirked as she watched his head shoot up to where she was standing, his hand immediately stilling it’s rapid movements. Watching the panic spread on his face was intoxicating to her as she slowly approached his bed.

“Y/n! Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I uh-I didn’t um...” His words trailed off and his eyes widened as he watched her slowly begin removing her clothes as she moved closer to him. 

“Shhhhhh.” She managed to remove both her shirt and pajama pants in the short trip over to his bed and she had no intention of stopping there. Now standing directly in front of him, she let her eyes wander over his still frame completely, soaking in the amazement in his dark eyes and the slight tremble that was periodically rippling through his body. Maintaining eye contact with him the whole time, she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, letting it pool on the floor next to her.

It was honestly shocking his eyes didn’t actually fall onto the floor with how far they bulged out of their sockets, a small moan leaving his mouth. 

She giggled at his enthusiasm before bringing her soft hands up to caress his face gently, his body shuddering at the contact. “Do you want me to keep going baby boy?” Taking a second to process the question that had left her lips, he slowly nodded while looking her in the eyes, his own full of awe. 

Happy with his answer, she reached for the edge of her panties before pushing them down to join the other pieces of clothing already inhabiting his floor. Spencer couldn’t speak. He could barely even breathe. Five minutes ago he had been jerking off to his neighbor, who also happened to be his coworker, and now said neighbor was crawling onto his bed, completely naked, with a wicked smirk on her face.

Straddling his lap, but making sure that there was no actual contact, she reached up to cup his face again, slowly rubbing circles into his defined cheekbone. “Is this ok baby boy? Is this what you want?”, she cooed. 

Spencer looked like he honestly might cry from the pure compassion laced within her words, but still found a way to nervously nod his head in affirmation of her questions. With a warm smile on her face, she leaned forward and placed a feather-light kiss on his lower jaw before continuing up the side of his face, basking in the small whimpers that fell from his pretty lips. Finally reaching his ear, she let her warm breath tease him before proceeding. 

“Do you want me to take control of you? Is that what you want sweet boy?” While the whine that immediately escaped him was answer enough, she pulled back searching for a more concrete answer to her question. “Hmmmm, you’d like that?” 

“Yes.”, he whispered, nodding his head anxiously. 

While he was answering she had leaned back towards his face, placing soft kisses all over. “As you wish baby boy.”, she whispered, changing course to attack his neck with her eager lips as soon the words left her mouth. Spencer gasped instantly and she couldn’t help but smirk against his pale flesh, increasing the pressure in which she was assaulting his neck.

Through the groans that spilled past his lips, she was able to make out his pathetic attempt at words, not slowing down her lips at all. “J-just make sure not to leave any m-marks. We’ll g-get in trouble at w-work.” Of course Spencer would be the only person on the planet to remember their office guidelines while getting his neck sucked like a vampire.

“No marks...that’ll be difficult. I want everyone to know just how thoroughly I fucked you.”

Feeling extremely satisfied by his enthusiastic response to her vulgar words, she slowly lowered herself down his body, pausing with her mouth right above his groin. Somehow the poor kid already looked completely fucked out and she hadn’t even done anything yet. Hearing him wince as she gently grasped and started stroking his cock, she knew this was gonna be fun.

Staring directly into her eyes, he watched the string of spit leave her mouth and drip directly onto his dick, eyes bulging at her bold actions, still in shock that any of this was actually happening. 

Entranced by the way his chest expanded rapidly as he watched her curiously, she leaned forward and licked the tip, his head falling back onto the pillow behind him. “I’m gonna suck your cock...but only because I want to see if you can not be a spaz about getting head from me.” Her words made Spencer whimper and she smirked as she took him fully into her mouth, soaking in his pretty noises. 

Y/n had only been going for a minute or two when she heard his groans get louder and felt him twitch in her mouth. Pulling off of him with a pop, she hummed at the sight of the completely wrecked boy in front of her, panting and shaking adorably. It wasn’t long before the perfect idea infiltrated her head, her body thrumming with anticipation and excitement.

“You’ve been such a good boy for me. I think you deserve a reward.”, she smirked, reciting the words that they had heard verbatim. Seemingly catching on to what she was pushing for, he responded accordingly.

“Please Y/n. I’ll do anything.”

She quirked her eyebrow in his direction questioningly, slowly grinding her dripping core against his achingly hard cock. “Anything, baby boy?”

Snapping his heated stare directly to her eyes, he cracked a beautiful smile. “Anything.”

She couldn’t control the grin that overtook her lips as she lowered herself down onto his erection, writhing in pleasure at the feel of him inside of her and the sound of his wanton moans. “Good boy.” 

Wanting to give Spencer time to fully adjust and control himself, she started her movements out slow, lifting herself up until only his tip remained inside before dropping down completely into his lap repeatedly. He was a moaning mess on the sheets below her, sweat coating his body along with goosebumps covering every visible expanse of his skin as he panted like a dog. He was so fucking pretty like this. 

Deciding enough was enough, she picked up the pace considerably, bouncing like a mad woman on his dick, while her sharp nails scratched down his creamy, pale chest in front of her, leaving angry, red streaks in their wake. Spencer had devolved into a blubbering mess underneath her and that lit her soul on fire.

“You like that don’t you, you little slut? Like your cock deep inside of me? Huh?” 

Y/n was pretty sure that he was short circuiting below her, his brain cutting off all control over his body as he spasmed uncontrollably and moaned for the entire fucking building to hear. Good, she thought. Let them hear how whipped he was for her. Even though it had only been a few minutes since she increased her speed, she could feel his cock starting to twitch violently inside of her and she knew he was close, really close.

“Is the little slut gonna come for me already?” All he could do was whimper in response, having to nod his head emphatically due to his loss of speech.

“Beg for it then. Fucking beg for me to let you come!” She was on fucking cloud nine right now, floating through the motions, as his whimpers increased in volume and speed. Mustering up all the strength he could, he spit out as many audible words as possible.

“Please! Please, please, please let me come! I need it! Please!” He was crying now, tears rapidly pouring from his eyes and spilling down his cheeks out of sheer desperation and need to release the tension built up within his body.

She was in awe of him. As she watched the tears pour down his face, she couldn’t help but whimper too. Desperately needing to finish, herself, she brought one hand down to make circles around her clit, while the other she brought up to wrap gently around his flushed throat, leaning over to whisper in his ear like she had earlier that night.

“Come for me, baby.”

She once again pulled back to witness his reactions to her hushed words, the outcome only more amazing than before. She watched as his eyes rolled back as far they could possibly go into his head as his mouth dropped open in pure ecstasy, high-pitched whines escaping his lips, his release shooting up into her like it had always belonged there. Maybe it had.

Watching him come undone below her, combined with her hand speedily rubbing circles on her clit, she was catapulted into the most amazing climax of her entire life, her body buzzing with excitement as she tightened around him and collapsed on his chest, weak as could be after that activity.

The pair laid silently, apart from the heaving breaths whirring through the room, still in shock over what had just transpired minutes before. Slowly shifting her eyes to the shivering boy below her, she saw he was caught in a trance, his eyes dazed, a soft grin on his lips. 

Breaking him from his stupor, she gently cupped his cheek with one hand as the other drew lazy circles on his blotchy chest. Rubbing the skin on his face lightly, she leaned forward and kissed his nose, making him scrunch it up and giggle as a result. “Such a sweet boy for me. Such a sweet, sweet boy.” Her words made him melt inside and words tumbled out of his own mouth before he could even think about stopping them.

“Вы красивы внутри и снаружи.”

She looked up at him in shock, before breaking out in giggles. “Did you just serenade me in Russian? How romantic.”, she giggled, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

He couldn’t seem to control his giggles either, a fact that warmed her heart. “Yes, I suppose I did.”

Smiling up at the adorable boy she just had to ask. “What does it mean?”

Y/n watched as his signature blush quickly coated his features once again as he looked down at her with a shy smile. “You are beautiful, inside and out.”

With the warmest grin she could muster, she leaned up and kissed his jaw once more before snuggling up against the young doctor who had melted her heart.

Tag List: @hopebaker @pastathighs @psychedellic-phase @gloryekaterina @sleepysnapesnake @racharr @etherealgubler @furiouspartyrebelhoagie @andiebeaword @liaabsurd @cielo1984 @starkeybaby @victomizedbyreginageorge @rainsong01 @moonlight-jukebox @gretaamyk @httpnxtt @rachelxwayne @goldnratio @cheyxminds @kricketc29 @cupcake525 @pinkdiamond1016 @slutforthegubes @shadyladyperfection @emilysallysmith @babblingbrookex @legendaryanimeaestheticclou @sunstspidey @ashwarren32 @pixels-impulse @eviewildflower @spencerreider @awkwardsadaa @dirty-pan-goblin @spencerspecifics

#criminal minds #cm #criminal minds fic #spencer #spencer reid #dr reid #matthew gray gubler #mgg #mgg fic #spencer x reader #cm fic #spencer reid smut #cm fluff #cm smut #spencer reid fluff #smut #fluff #many thoughts head full #oneshot

[sisterspooky1013]

Better Than Sex

Author: SisterSpooky1013

Rating: Teen and up

Words: 1666

Tagging: @today-in-fic

Read it on AO3

“Better Than Sex Cake” Mulder read aloud from the menu before looking across the table at Scully with his eyebrows raised in question.

They had just concluded an evening traipsing through an (alleged) actual ghost town, though no signs of ghosts were to be seen. Just a lot of graffiti, dirty mattresses and a used condom or two. Now they were sitting at the first diner they came across, Mo’s Café, and Mulder was considering the sex cake.

“Knock yourself out, Mulder, I’m sticking to coffee.”

“You aren’t curious as to whether this cake is, in fact, better than sex?”

“Well I’m sure it’s better than bad sex, but if it were better than great sex the population would die out because everyone would skip procreating and just eat cake.”

Mulder considered her statement. “Isn’t ‘bad sex’ somewhat of an oxymoron?”

She gave him an incredulous look. “Are you being serious?”

Now it was his turn to look incredulous. “The only bad sex is no sex, as far as I’m concerned.”

Scully shook her head ruefully. “Must be nice to be a man.”

Just then the waitress came by to take their order. Scully requested coffee and dry toast, while Mulder opted for coffee and the aforementioned sex cake. After she collected their menus and retreated to the kitchen, Mulder eyed Scully appraisingly, gaging her mood. Sometimes she was open and willing to talk about things of a personal or private nature, other times she kept her lips as tight as a steel trap. He suspected he might have a chatty Scully on his hands, and didn’t want to waste the opportunity.

“So, if I’m understanding correctly, Scully, there would be a circumstance under which you would choose a piece of cake over sex?”

She screwed up her mouth a little, not in consideration of how to answer the question, but whether to answer it at all. “Depends who the sex is with, I suppose, but yes, I could think of a few times where cake would have been a more enjoyable option.”

“Hm” was his only reply as he sat back against the seat of the booth, absorbing this information.

“Are you saying you’ve never had sex that was subpar enough that cake would have been better?”

He pulled in a deep breath and looked to the ceiling briefly, and she could imagine him running through his mental file of sexual encounters. “I don’t think so, no.”

“Is it wrong that I feel compelled to kick you right now?” She asked, just a hint of playfulness in her voice.

He laughed.“I’m not saying that every single time was Oscar-worthy, but even the worst was still better than some flour and butter.”

“And they say male privilege isn’t real” she deadpanned as the waitress came by to present them with two coffees, cake, toast and a tray of sugar and cream. She mixed the accoutrements into her cup while Mulder sipped his black, followed by a bite of the cake, which looked like a basic white cake with some kind of custard and whipped cream on top.

“This is pretty good, though I can’t say it lives up to its name” he said around the food in his mouth, pushing the plate towards her and holding out the fork suggestively. She took it and stabbed a small bite, meeting Mulder’s eye as she pulled the tines from between her lips. It was good, as most cake is, but nothing to write home about.

“Well?” He asked expectantly.

“Well what? She returned, wiping her finger at the corners of her mouth.

“Is it better than sex?”

She paused before answering, knowing that Mulder was going to keep picking at this until it got uncomfortable. He liked to do that, to see how far he could get her to go before she blushed and demanded they change the subject. He took immense pleasure in making her squirm, and even more in getting her to reveal something personal that he normally wouldn’t be privy to. Sometimes, she had as much fun indulging him as he did in goading her. She wasn’t above sharing something that she knew would shock him, just so she could see the look on his face. She liked that she could still surprise him.

“Not better than all sex, but certainly better than some of the sex I’ve had, regrettably.”

“What would make sex so bad that cake is better? I must know.”

“I think you can use your imagination, Mulder.”

“Come on, Scully, you could be saving some poor woman from ‘worse than cake’ sex with me in the future. Consider it an act of charity.”

She shook her head at him, but couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at her lips.

“Your answer lies in that drawer full of tapes that aren’t yours, Mulder.”

“How’s that?”

“Let’s see, sex starts when the man presents his erection and ends when he ejaculates. The woman howls like an animal no matter what he’s doing, though her orgasm is never mentioned. There is no foreplay. Would you like me to continue?”

He swallowed a mouthful of coffee he’d been holding, afraid he might choke. He’d never heard her speak so openly about sex before, especially not sex she had personally experienced, and though he’d been the one who initiated the conversation he was suddenly afraid he was going to have to walk out of this diner trying to hide a bulge in his slacks.

“Fair enough, Scully, but porn isn’t real. It’s like an action movie. No one actually hangs off the skids of a helicopter mid-air, it’s just fun to watch.”

“I’m glad to hear that you’re aware of that, Mulder, and I would implore you to spread the news to the rest of the male populace.” She punctuated her statement with a loud crunch into her toast.

Mulder’s mouth fell open slightly as he studied her, trying to tell if she was joking or embellishing.

“People really do that? Have sex like they do in porn? Men you’ve slept with?”

She rolled her eyes. “Mulder, if you’re going to sit here and tell me that you have never done that, even as a young man, I’ll have to call BS.”

He put his hands up in defense. “I’m not saying I emerged from puberty as Don Juan, but I don’t recall ever not being invested in my partner’s experience. I’m sure my skills were lacking at the outset, but I always tried.”

She looked at him derisively from under her eyelashes. “Well then, you really should get out there more, Mulder. Share your gift with the world.” Her voice was laden with sarcasm.

He laughed and ran his hand over the back of his neck. “How am I coming out to be the bad guy, here Scully? I’m not the one who gave you a ‘worse than cake’ lay.”

She smiled at him but her tone remained facetious “of course not, you’ve demonstrated that your skills in this area are unparalleled.”

“Damn straight!” He said with a slap of his palm on the table, and they both erupted into laughter.

They held eye contact as the laughter subsided, awkwardness descending over the conversation. He had made reference to the two of them having sex, which was a topic he’d only made innuendo about, never mentioned directly. Trying to break the tension, Scully finally spoke.

“Well, I guess you can see why I don’t bother dating.”

“I guess I can” he replied, swiping the last crumbs of cake off the plate with his finger.

“Why don’t you date, Mulder?” His expression registered surprise. “Or do you? I don’t want to be presumptuous.” She felt a pit in her belly at the idea that he may actually have a secret love life.

“No” he spat out, chuckling a little. “No, I definitely don’t date. It’s just too complicated I guess. I’m kind of a serial monogamist anyway.”

“Really?” Now it was her turn to be surprised.

“Yeah, for the most part. I’ve had a couple flings, but the vast majority of the women I’ve slept with I was in a relationship with. The emotional aspect is important for me.”

She studied him, imagining a version of Mulder who would be so considerate and giving. She didn’t need to imagine it, really, she’d seen it. While he was capable of being selfish and obtuse, he had also been incredibly tender and caring with her on many occasions. He had certainly shown a proclivity towards chivalry; opening doors for her, walking closer to traffic on the sidewalk, helping her into her coat or holding an umbrella for her. The idea that such gestures would extend into the bedroom was logical, but it still set off a stirring in her belly. In what other ways might he be so attentive to her needs? She swallowed the last of her coffee and tried not to think about it. Maybe later, but not here. Not now.

“Well, I hate to state the obvious here, Scully, but I don’t think you’re going to happen across the guy that will give you a 5-star experience if you never put yourself out there.” As soon as the words left his mouth he wanted to kick himself; why the fuck was he encouraging her sleeping with other people?

She smiled demurely and shrugged “for now I get my thrills from ghost busting and the occasional slice of really good cake.”

He bobbed his head and smiled back, pulling out his wallet and setting his bureau credit card on the tabletop.

In truth, she had already happened across that guy. He was sitting in front of her at a shitty diner in the middle of nowhere. And while she hoped that she may enjoy that 5 star experience in the future, for now just being in his presence, laughing and seeking the answers to the mysteries of the universe together, that was better than sex.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #xf fanfic

[honeysofte-archieve]

only one.

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles

Rating: T

Pairing: Female Detective/Ava du Mortain

Word Count: 1,776

Genre: love confessions hell yes!

i’m here a year later offering you a continuation to my first ever wayhaven fic: say your piece (or let her free) (18+, nsfw). excuse any clumsiness, this year has been THE WORST ever when it comes to writing. i hope you enjoy!!

Vesper knows, of course, that Ava would eventually ask again.

It is pretty much a certainty only biding its time and she is mostly fine with the thought of it coming up again. If their roles were reversed, she would similarly want to know the full details of the point of the matter— knowing her own nature she would be downright obsessive at getting true answers not shrouded by the delirious (although lovely) aftermath of sex.

But Vesper still hasn’t decided what she will actually answer when her time is up and her time runs out surprisingly soon as it’s not even a full day before Ava has seemingly gathered enough courage to ask.

“Detective,” Ava starts, but coughs and corrects herself immediately after Vesper shoots a pointed, even sharp, look over her shoulder. “I mean… Vesper Louise.”

It’s very attractive, hearing her own full name from the lips of the woman she loves and for a long, while both of them only smile at each other, a gentle blossom of a relationship cradled carefully between them, safe and sound, at least for now. Vesper is not optimistic enough to think that something like this, happiness above everything else, could last forever.

[ read at ao3 ♥ ]

“Better,” Vesper answers. Then she frowns and adjusts the temperature of the stove before flipping over the crêpe cooking, or burning, on the frying pan. “Though the Louise is a bit much, don’t you think?”

“It is a beautiful name,” Ava comments somewhere behind her. “You should not be ashamed of it.”

Vesper is glad Ava can only see her back or she would certainly notice the pleased flush on her cheeks. She clicks on the range hood and watches how steam begins to diffuse around the stove, clearing the air in a quick movement. The smell of already cooked crêpes is mouthwatering.

“I’m not ashamed,” Vesper answers with a shrug. She drinks a sip of her half-draught red wine sitting on the counter next to her. “I just think it’s a mouthful to use in everyday conversation.” She pauses. “But it sounds nice… when you say it like that.”

There’s a pinch of genuine curiosity in Ava's voice. “Like what?”

As if you loved me, Vesper thinks but is not brave enough to voice it yet. “Never mind,” she says instead and almost jumps out of her skin when there’s suddenly a strong pair of arms wrapped around her waist.

“I would like to ask you something,” Ava says quietly and drops one very cautious kiss on Vesper’s shoulder like she’s not sure whether it’s welcome or not. Vesper revels in it, feeling as if the kiss left an invisible burn mark through her shirt onto her skin.

“Hold that thought,” Vesper answers, a little too hoarsely, before quickly flipping the last one of crêpes on a nearby plate, snapping the stove off and reaching her small body across the counter to be able to rinse her hands in the sink.

Then she deftly hops on the counter and pulls Ava close by folding her arms around Ava’s neck. Now that Vesper is finally allowed to be physically affectionate with her, she won’t stop. She never will. “Okay, all done,” she says cheerfully. “What’s going on inside your head, baby?”

How curious it is that having the permission to use a simple pet name for someone can feel so ground-breaking. She also finds it a little funny calling a 900-year-old powerful vampire baby but so far Ava hasn't protested the nickname beyond a small frown of confusion.

Ava hesitates, her expression a deep frown. Vesper smooths out the wrinkles on her forehead with the tip of her thumb, smiling fondly at Ava who still slightly hovers over her, even like this.

“The station's rumour about you and the… the reporter man. Your former partner, I suppose,” Ava begins, her face scrunching openly with distaste, and Vesper can feel how her own expression falls in the moment of silence that cloaks them under. “Was it true?” Ava asks quietly, watching Vesper carefully under her pale eyelashes and making the other woman feel immediately like the world’s shittiest person alive.

Vesper sighs. She doesn’t want to be dishonest, but she also wouldn’t like them to linger on the topic of Bobby again. “Would it even matter if it was?” she asks, sighs very deeply again afterwards just for the sake of reprimanding her past self.

Vesper Louise Graves, you’re a fucking idiot, will be engraved onto her tombstone, no doubt. Feels exactly on-brand for her.

“I suppose not,” Ava answers after a long stillness of consideration, but she doesn’t seem to be completely sure about her answer. “Regardless, I simply find myself... curious, nonetheless.”

Vesper cups Ava’s rigid jaw onto her palm and presses a simple kiss on her forehead.

“It’s true,” she admits and is prepared for the shudder that travels through Ava’s whole body in the wake of the confession. Her breath quivers with hidden pain she’s gotten too good at hiding, her eyes pressed closed and throat gulping for breath.

“It didn’t mean anything, Ava, not like you do,” Vesper adds carefully, keeping her voice calm and kind. She rubs the corner of Ava’s unhappy mouth with her thumb, though it does nothing to hinder Ava’s crestfallen expression and Vesper feels painfully aware that her choice of words sounds like someone trying to console their partner after an act of infidelity.

Part of Vesper feels like that is what it was. That she betrayed a trust or some unsigned vow of devotion and oh, does she loathe herself for it more than anything. Rational thinking doesn’t help with bone-deep guilt.

"It was a mistake," she continues soothingly, trying to ignore the rapid banging of her heart, open for the world to see. "One made out of sleep deprivation and--"

Vesper quiets and thinks. Ava looks at her keenly and she's not sure what she should continue with for she doesn't want to make Ava feel even worse by admitting the overhead conversation with Nate that influenced the bad choice more than any other reason Vesper could come up with.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs instead, voice regretful and sad. She kisses Ava's temple, lets her lips linger on the sensitive skin longer than necessary. "I'm an idiot," she says quietly into her ear and Ava shivers at the sensation before pulling slowly away.

"You are not an idiot," Ava says, unimpressed. "You're a very intelligent woman as I'm sure you are aware of yourself."

Oh, perfect-- a clear way out. Vesper grabs it like a lifeline.

"I mean... I sure do love science," Vesper answers with a grin and it's not even remotely a lie. "It's kind of my speciality. Like, did you know that orcas are actually just big dolphins, but sort of whales at the same time? Pretty cool, right?"

"Vesper Louise," Ava sighs. She doesn't appear frustrated, but her voice just has a tiny flavour of kind impatience, like she knows how difficult this is for both of them. "You are deflecting."

"No kidding."

There's a long, pointed silence before Ava's brow arches, a tiny, almost mocking gesture. Vesper almost flips her the finger but she's beyond acting like a child. At least, she usually is.

"I just…" Vesper buries her face in the crook of Ava's neck, a place of warmth and comfort, almost. It helps if she doesn't need to meet her eyes. She swallows. Overthinks.

These words end up being true: "You scare the shit out of me."

Ava stills. "Scare you?"

Why does she feel like crying right now? "You scare me because…" Take a deep breath, Vesper Louise, and just say it.

"Because I love you so much I can barely stand it," Vesper finally says, the words that haunt her every waking moment she spends with Ava. It feels good and absolutely horrifying to finally say them aloud.

"I just… I don't know how to describe it any better. I feel like I'm dying, all the time, just thinking about it. About my feelings for you."

Ava is mute while she speaks and Vesper appreciates right now more than ever. Usually, the vampire's silence is frustrating, just another wall between them, but now it feels more like a comfort, a blessing in disguise.

And Vesper is crying now, failing not to, her eyes wet and lips trembling.

"I don't know what else to say," she murmurs. Ava's hand lingers on the back of Vesper's neck which reassures her that Ava is not going to escape, not this time.

"I was scared and hurt so I kissed him and it meant absolutely nothing to me. I don't have room in my heart for anyone else but you. That's all there is to it. I'm sorry."

Ava is still and quiet but remains relaxed in their embrace, her hand moving soothingly across the other one's back. After a while, she presses the smallest of kisses against the curve of Vesper's quivering jaw.

"Thank you," Ava whispers breathlessly and Vesper isn't quite sure what the words even mean. She's about to open her mouth to ask why when Ava tucks a few messy hair strands behind Vesper's ears and lifts her down-turned chin up with a fingertip.

"Please, do not cry, do not be scared," she whispers tenderly and with devotion. "I am the idiot one."

There's choked laughter and a sneeze against a shirt collar. "No shit," Vesper snorts, her eyes shining with happiness. She has never been in love like this, has never felt so protected and safe as she does every moment with Ava.

"You're my idiot, though."

The words are still questioning and hesitant but Ava smiles, smiles like a thousand suns for how bright it is.

"That I am," she says, her green eyes filled with warmth and gentleness, and dare one say it, love. "As you are mine. Always."

This is when Vesper grabs Ava's ears onto her hands and pulls her closer to kiss her with all that she is, with lips and tongue and teeth, because she can't not to. She's allowed to love and be loved, and be imperfect with faults and downsides, and still be someone of value.

Someone of importance to Ava du Mortain.

"Fuck Bobby Marks," Ava mutters darkly onto Vesper's lips when they part for breath, making Vesper's eyes widen in surprise at the crass language before she burst into giggles against Ava's mouth and kisses the frown between Ava's eyebrows away again.

That's right, she thinks.

Fuck Bobby Marks.

#twc #the wayhaven chronicles #ava du mortain #a du mortain x detective #ava x detective #a du mortain #twc detective #twc fanfic #*my writing #character: vesper

[palmett-hoes]

how do you think this fandom deals with "measuring" trauma? i've seen a couple posts detailing aaron's reaction to trauma/nicky's reaction//seth's/etc and it seems like some people have a tier list of trauma responses in regards to the foxes? like what's "acceptable" versus what isn't, and who's trauma was "enough" to make their actions excusable versus others. this doesn't make much sense but i hope you get where i'm coming from?

no no i get you don't worry

i think it’s something i used to see more said explicitly than i see it now. like i definitely remember a point in the fandom when ppl were very openly mad at aaron for the way he acted in the books and especially him not being “grateful” enough for all that andrew had “done for him.” additionally seth used to be used as a minor villain or an abusive ex in fics a lot more than i see now. then of course there was a period of calling out these trends and reminding ppl that these are books about trauma, not books about ethics, and that you really really can’t read them without attempting compassion for every character. they’re not books about who’s right and who’s wrong, they can’t really be read in terms of theory or ideology. they’re about survival and recovery.

i haven’t really seen those sentiments in the past few years tho, at least not as openly as they once were, nor have i seen the old posts recirculating. at the same time, i think that there’s less meta and character analysis being written in general so there’s also less debate in general. i don’t see the whole fandom tho, just who i follow and the stuff from the tags that shows up on my tl. if this stuff is actively still going on idk about it, though i’d like to think we as a collective have moved on from seeing trauma as a zero-sum game

additionally, because of the discourse period over them it seems like aaron and seth in particular are treated with extra care not to invalidate that they came from abusive situations and were shaped by that. i’d say it’s now seen as bad taste to openly denounce what a character has been through as “not enough”

however

measuring trauma isn’t always angry, it isn’t always saying to a character “you didn’t go through enough” or “he went through more so shut up.” measuring trauma can also be dismissive. it can take the form of simply choosing not to include it. of removing character traits or actions or topics that make us uncomfortable or are maybe complicated to approach. by removing them or replacing them or avoiding them and simply writing like they’re not there, you essentially get to the same place as saying “get over it” but instead you write them as having, well, gotten over it

so i do still see people measuring trauma it’s just not as outright anymore. instead it’s paring certain characters down for ease and digestibility, and simply not engaging with their trauma and circumstances

i would say i see this most often with the upperclassmen, dan, matt, and allison especially (and nicky even though he’s not an upperclassmen) (ik i mentioned him but seth content is still pretty few and far between) (renee’s trauma has the “rule of cool” so it still gets in there). i’ve mentioned before how sidelined the upperclassmen are in fan works and some of the unfortunate implications of that, but another dimension is not acknowledging or considering their individual backgrounds. they all come from some pretty fucked up circumstances and more than that they’re all SHAPED by those circumstances

in the books, they are all wary isolationists with attitude issues.  they can be mean, they can be nasty, and they can be violent. they come from poverty, abuse, neglect, drug addicition, gang violence, and sex trafficking. they are treated with extreme suspicion by their school, the media, their classmates, and their fellow athletes, and they respond with suspicion right back. their relationships with each other are often on thin ice. they treat neil the way they do - tolerate his puzzle pieces that don’t fit together right without questioning - because they can all recognize themselves in him. and on the flip side, neil is able to relate to them for the same reasons, because they are also wary dogs used to being hit

but then i so often see the upperclassmen used in ways that mostly imply they’re like,, mostly normal, chill, often quite woke. goofy and cool. they all grew up watching disney movies and going to carnivals. they get used as a contrast for neil and andrew to highlight their traumatized behavior and the extremity of their circumstances, and if their trauma gets mentionted at all it’s in passing and it doesn’t inform the way they act. their trauma isn’t sufficient to inform their actions so it just,, doesn’t factor in or get mentioned really and they’re all nice, friendly, happy-go-lucky neurotypicals who are trying to teach poor traumatized neil how to be normal. tell me that isn’t measuring trauma

it’s annoying, in all honesty, especially since it now seems to come in a form that’s hard to call out because it’s no longer content that actually states a bad opinion so much as it is a lack of content or consideration for certain characters, pushing them further and further into the background and giving them increasingly more vague, palatable, and relatable characterizations.

in fact, it often comes off as praise, by ascribing them positive traits like nicky being a good guardian for the twins or allison being super knowledgeable about lgbt stuff or dan being a “queen” or matt being a “himbo” and because this is all good stuff it’s fine, right? it’s better than canon actually, right? except actually what it is is dismissive of their trauma and individual experiences. it’s a series of easily digestible filler words used to make the messy, ugly, complicated characters of canon softer and easier to swallow

also this is by no means restricted to the upperclassmen it’s just the one that slips most through the cracks. i definitely see this happening to andrew, too, but it works in slightly different ways and is a whole other discussion

#txt #the upperclassmen #dan wilds #matt boyd #allison reynolds #fandom #my posts #im talkin #ask #nicky hemmick

[once-upon-a-pirate-ship]

it would kill me (if you didn't know)

I know. Trust me, I know. But I've been working on my novel, and when this fic slapped me in the face last night, I just went with it. And so should you.

Neverland AU - canon divergence for somewhere in 3a

(Blatant disregard of canon to follow--don't make me rewatch the show, please)

They saved Henry but all got separated in the process, and when they finally made it back to the ship, Emma realized that they were down a man. She's just gonna have to save him.

This features some pretty awesome Emma/David bonding, too.

This is a classic 'Killian's been taken while saving them and now he's being tortured and Emma isn't gonna stand for it' fic. I've read them all, and I just needed more. POV switches 3rd person between Killian and the others.

Thanks in advance for accepting the sidestepping of canon that I love to do.

Rated M for language and violence

length: 5k+

Read it on ao3

In retrospect, it wasn’t the greatest plan he’d ever had. But it also wasn’t the worst. Well, it could hardly even be called a plan, really, given that the consideration for it occurred in approximately three seconds, but he was hardly going to worry about it now. There were other things to worry about.

The thing that Killian Jones, pirate captain of the Jolly Roger and unofficial Neverland guide to Swan (and the others), needed to be worried about was the little demon child Peter fucking Pan who stood over him with that stupid evil smirk on his lips.

“Seems like you’ve finally lost, pirate,” Pan spat, but the amusement in his tone only sharpened the anger in his eyes.

Killian’s gaze flickered from the child to the grove in the distance, and when he saw not a trace of the others, he returned his attention to Pan. “Aye, I suppose so,” he said, his voice rough though calm and certain.

Pan’s brow furrowed. “Really? No witty remark? No promise to skin me alive?” he taunted. “You’ve changed your tune, Hook.”

He resisted rolling his eyes, instead gripping his wounded shoulder a little tighter. The arrow wasn’t poisoned—he’d have felt it working by now—but it wasn’t helping his predicament at all. Neither was the sizeable gash on his abdomen that Felix had been kind enough to gift him when he’d been distracted.

“Have I?” Killian asked. “I wonder what you’ll do with me now,” he added dryly. He knew. Oh, he knew.

Pan’s eyes flashed, and in an instant he was crouching towards Killian, his hand grasping the protruding arrow. “Now, I get to have my fun,” he declared with a cruel twist of his lips and an even crueler twist of the arrow.

But Killian Jones was no stranger to pain. They were intimately acquainted. That’s how he grit his teeth and buried it until nothing but a tiny grunt sounded from deep within his throat. Pan wouldn’t consider his torture much fun if he didn’t scream in agony, so he would keep playing until Killian could fight it no longer. And he’d let him. Because egging him on would make him lash out, and ensuring him of Swan’s victory would put her and the lad in danger. Pan had spent his time since their arrival playing games with them, distracting them from the important things they’d come there to do. It was only fair that Killian would return the favor.

So the demon could pull out all his toys, could whip him and carve into his flesh, could burn him until his skin was blackened ash, but nothing would stop Killian Jones from protecting his loved ones. And gods above, he loved Emma Swan.

--

All she wanted to know was how the fuck this happened. Their plan had been so perfect that even she couldn’t doubt it, but somehow the winds had shifted or their luck had run out or her luck had run out, and when they returned to the Jolly Rodger and the groups had reunited, they’d been down a man. Down a captain.

Neal, for all his talk of fighting for her, didn’t seem to mind not fighting for something that she actually cared about. He was running for president of the Let’s Leave the Pirate Here Club, and that wasn’t exactly a great way to get into her good graces, though that would’ve been hard enough as it was.

Regina, predictably, prioritized Henry to a fault—Emma was always for prioritizing her son, but not when it came to sacrificing her values or her morals or whatever, fine, she just didn’t want to sacrifice him. Henry was okay, he was safe, and they could take precautions to ensure that he would stay that way, but Regina just didn’t care or didn’t think it was worth it. A good option for Neal’s vice president.

In all her silent canvassing of the group’s feelings regarding Operation Save Hook (Henry was asleep, okay? He could come up with a better name when he woke up), Emma blatantly ignored Gold. For obvious reasons.

Tink was mostly for saving him, but not confident enough in any plan she could offer to make it stick. She’d tried to sway Regina, but that had been less than successful.

Then it was her parents. And, for once, they weren’t in total agreement.

Mary Margaret was sympathetic, to be sure, but not enough. She wasn’t in the Let’s Leave the Pirate Here Club, but she was Queen of Save My Kid and Her Kid Kingdom, so that was that.

But David—that’s what had caught her attention.

When they’d first discovered Hook’s absence and began discussing their options, Emma had held back and held her breath, unwilling to reveal her hand without knowing where the others stood. She’d gone into full Observant Mode, and that’s when she saw David, her father, and his reaction.

His face stiffened, an automatic move to hide his feelings, but Emma saw through it, even when Mary Margaret didn’t (or didn’t want to see it). It was a set jaw, a twitching lip that was almost a frown, tensed shoulders that eventually gave way to firmly crossed arms because apparently, Emma had gotten her Observant Mode from her father, and that’s what he was doing.

A few minutes into the conversation had nothing decided, but Emma shifted her stance, and her father looked her way. Their eyes locked, and while the others continued their pathetic excuse for a rescue discussion, father and daughter exchanged practically imperceptible nods, and then they were allies.

It’s what gave her the strength to step forward at last and disregard whatever half-assed ‘it’s too late’ speech Neal had been giving with a pointed clearing of her throat.

“David and I will go back for him while you guys get the ship ready,” Emma announced. Regina did that haughty half-step back that meant something between ‘I don’t care’ and ‘do whatever you want,’ and Mary Margaret’s only response was to look questioningly at her husband. Tinker Bell gave an enthusiastic nod of approval before busying herself with some bit of the rigging she may or may not have actually understood how to work.

Neal, however, was predictably Neal. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Ems,” he said, that stupid nickname that he had no fucking right to use.

Emma’s head turned slowly to her ex, regarding him with the coldest gaze she’d ever offered anyone. Regina had some competition as head of the Looks That Could Kill Committee. “Hm, okay. Well, you don’t have to think it’s a good idea, because you’re staying here.”

“Emma—”

“There’s no discussion, Neal. No discussion from anyone, but especially from you. You have no right to talk, or interfere, and you especially have no right to argue against saving the man who is the reason your own son is alive and safe now.”

Mary Margaret was staring at her when she turned away from him, her eyes wide and openly confused, but she said nothing. David, however, had his eyes cutting into Neal, narrowed and calculating and damn, he was putting pieces together and he wasn’t liking the picture.

“Ready?” Emma asked her father.

He forced himself to look away. “Just have to grab one thing,” he told her, shaking his head at something Mary Margaret had said before he disappeared below.

Neal had huffed away after Emma’s little scolding, and he pouted at the exact opposite end from where his father pouted. Regina looked disinterested and mildly irritated, but when Emma glanced at her, she nodded towards Gold with a raised eyebrow.

Emma’s lips curled in something like a grateful smile, and she passed her bewildered mother on her way to the Dark One.

“You have something,” Emma said as soon as she stood in front of him. “Something to get Pan.”

“I do, Miss Swan,” he replied, that stupid tone that told her he had tricks up those stupid sleeves of his.

She hummed. “No, there’s no deal this time. No price. I’m done with games. So you can either give it to me, or I can take it from you.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Take it from me?” he asked, entirely amused by the concept.

“I’m done with your shit, Crocodile. You can play Dark One with me all you want, but we both know it’s just easier to just hand it over.”

He glared at her for a long moment, but eventually he cracked, and he glanced at his son who looked out at the water and away from them both. “Fine. But only because I’ve no use for it anyway.”

She took the box he offered, resisting the urge to mutter, ‘yes, that’s why,’ as he explained how it worked. When he’d finished, she offered him a simple but genuine “thank you,” before joining her father once more.

“Here,” David said, passing her another cutlass, one she hadn’t seen before. “You need a new weapon,” he added.

“And I’m borrowing…”

“Hook’s. An extra,” he said. “Figured he wouldn’t mind.”

“Right,” she mumbled, taking it with a frown and securing it quickly. “Well then, let’s go.”

--

For all his talk of being intimately acquainted with pain, Killian Jones was doing a piss-poor job of hiding it. The cracks in his resolve were starting to widen, and when hums and grunts became groans and low growls, he knew it was only a matter of time before Pan started to truly have his fun.

He’d been more clever this time around, to be sure. It had to have been at least a century since Killian had gotten cozy with the demon’s knife (or arrowhead, or branding iron, or whatever particular weapon he’d chosen to use that time), but Pan had certainly honed his skills quite a bit since then.

But Killian was sure that Swan had taken her lad and the others far away by now, and the knowledge that he’d helped her, that he’d kept his word, allowed him the strength he needed to keep the screams from coming.

For a while.

Pan, though, had used a trick on him he’d never experienced, and the shock alone was enough to get it working for a little while.

That trick came in the form of her, of Emma Swan, and the name had fallen from his lips like a prayer, hope that he’d never felt before rising like a rushing tide in his chest, and she’d smiled at him, a radiant, lovely thing that he’d never imagined could’ve been gifted solely for him, useless pirate that he was.

But then she’d started talking, and he knew it was a trick (tides always come back, because when there’s a rise, there’s also a fall). Not at first, he’d give Pan that, because it was easy enough to believe that the smile hadn’t been for him, that she resented him, that she hadn’t meant to save him, that they were better off without him. It wasn’t what she said that tipped him off, it was how she said it. Because Killian Jones had studied her since the moment she uncovered his pathetic hide in that pile of bodies, and he knew her—more than she knew herself, to her dismay—and he could read her. She was an open book, after all.

When her eyes didn’t burn like he knew they should’ve when she spoke of anger and hatred, he knew. When her lips didn’t quirk in that one specific way when she mentioned abandoning him, he knew. And then she spoke about her parents and Baelfire, and it was all wrong, because Emma Swan had walls, and even Neverland wasn’t enough to break them down so quickly.

Wherever she was, Emma Swan wasn’t about to run into her parents’ arms and live happily ever after with them and her True Love, because she wasn’t there yet. He knew her. He knew how hard it was for her to open up to him, someone who understood her from such shared experiences, and that wasn’t something she could just overlook as soon as she returned home. They’d hurt her—here, in Neverland, with assumptions and confessions and automatic behaviors, but also before. And if she did wish to ride off into the sunset with Baelfire, Neal, it wasn’t going to happen right away, because Killian had watched her while she shifted away from Neal when he’d moved towards her. He’d seen the way she recoiled at his touch, how she’d narrowed those jade eyes at his words, how she didn’t trust him, not anymore.

No, the Emma Swan that stood before his beaten and bruised body was a copy, and a bad one. When she hadn’t achieved her goal, she disappeared, and Pan took her place, and though he knew the demon was mocking him and prodding him with insults and hoping they’d smash the last of his resolve, he wasn’t ready to give in just yet.

Killian Jones was waiting for something. He just couldn’t figure out what it was.

--

“What’d he do?”

Emma faltered, the blade missing the piece of jungle shit in her path she’d been trying to cut down. “What? Who?”

“Neal,” her father said, clearing the vines for her before they continued on.

“Oh,” she sounded, pulling her lips together as she considered what to say. He’d noticed it before, and she knew that. He wasn’t stupid, nor was he as hope-prone and naive as Mary Margaret could often be. And they had another few miles to go, at least. “He left,” she said.

David stopped, a hand on her arm that was more than just an attempt to stop her from walking, too. “He left you?” he asked, his eyes somehow tight with rage and tender with something she wanted to dub dad-ness, because no one had ever looked at her like that before.

Emma huffed, because now was definitely not the time for Feelings, now was the time to rescue a goddamn pirate from whatever the hell Peter fucking Pan was doing to him. “He set me up to take the fall for his crime and let me go to prison instead. I didn’t find out I was pregnant until I was already in jail.”

David blinked once, twice, and then his expression was consumed by dad-anger (because it was just a different brand of anger that she’d also never seen before). “Emma—”

“It was a long time ago, dad.” They both started at the name, dad, because she’d never really used it before. A few times she’d said it, but it was something she’d had to force, a correction or a pointed joke, sometimes a near-death thing, but this was different. Authentic. Slightly heartbreaking.

“We don’t have time for this,” she muttered as she turned away, but neither was surprised, and even her dad wasn’t hurt, because Emma had her walls, and that was okay, because she’d needed them to survive this long. And if he had to put in a little time and effort to help take them down, that didn’t bother him one bit.

“I was kinda surprised that you wanted to come,” she said after a while, unable to bear the tense atmosphere any longer.

David gave her a half-smile, slicing another thicket (because they’d grown over since they’d returned to the ship. Fuck Neverland, honestly). “He did save my life, you know. And he was saving Henry when an arrow hit him—before your mother and I got separated from the group. I wasn’t about to leave him for dead after he took an arrow for my grandson.”

Emma froze, nearly dropping the cutlass that wasn’t hers. “He saved Henry?”

Her father’s eyebrows furrowed. “I thought you knew that,” he said. “So why are you so eager to help him? If you didn’t know.”

Her lips parted only to press together firmly, and when she spoke, they both knew it wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t the whole truth. “Because I don’t leave people behind. And even without the arrow, he still saved Henry. He brought us here.”

David studied her for a moment, and these pieces were coming together faster now, and quite suddenly, the picture made a lot of sense. “He came back.”

“For Henry. And Neal,” she replied.

“And you.”

She couldn’t deny it, and he knew that. But it surprised him that he didn’t mind it as much as he had before. Emma’s walls, no matter how much he wished he could change it, were in part because of him and Snow. They saved her, yes, but they abandoned her when they did it. And Neal had likely been the cause of the other fortress that surrounded her, because he’d abandoned her, too.

So if the pirate had gained her trust and her respect because he hadn’t abandoned her, then that was good. David had seen plenty of love and devotion in his life, but he’d never seen loyalty like the kind that burned in Captain Hook. Centuries in search of revenge for the one he’d loved and lost. That wasn’t the man who would turn around and abandon her the second the opportunity arose.

No, without him or the pirate realizing it, he’d pretty much gained his blessing. Because David knew damn well that if the roles were reversed, not even if Emma herself were in danger, but if Hook were here in his place and someone she loved was being tortured, there’s no one he would trust more than Captain Hook to help her. Neal had barely batted an eye. But he was apparently quite skilled at leaving people to rot.

David was just beginning to contemplate how to handle that particular situation when the screams started.

He took his daughter’s hand, meeting her huge and watery eyes, and they ran.

--

He’d held on so long, but it was worth it. It was worth it. No, she was worth it. Emma Swan was worth it.

Emma. Emma. Emma.

Her name became a mantra, a song in his head to fill the space between screams.

Killian Jones had loved Milah. He never doubted that, and his love for another didn’t negate it, either. He wasn’t sure what made his love for Emma Swan sharper, deeper, but it was just different. His working theory was that they’d both loved before, both been hurt before, both lingered in something that was slightly less than pure. Whatever had happened with Baelfire couldn’t have been perfect, because it hurt her. And she’d been so young when she’d had Henry. Milah wasn’t faultless, either. Ironically enough, that point was proven by Baelfire.

Killian had spoken to her about it for hours. She’d spun tales of rescuing the lad, taking him from his pathetic father and bringing him aboard, but it never happened. It wasn’t until Henry was taken from Swan that he realized the downfall of his Milah. He’d known it, truly, but nothing would have stopped Swan from getting back her son, and it should’ve been the same with Milah.

For a moment, the pain of his guilt overwhelmed the pain of Pan’s lash that sliced into his back.

But that was what made his love for Emma Swan different.

Try something new, darling. It’s called trust.

Be a part of something.

Too bad he’d never have the chance to explain it all to her.

--

Emma had seen so much in her life. So much pain, so much ugliness—it had made her start to believe that there was really nothing else. But then Henry showed up at her door, and things changed.

Now, standing in her hiding place with her father, she was forced to watch as the demon child inflicted brutal and unrelenting torture to Captain Hook—no, no, he wasn’t Hook anymore. Not after this. He was Killian Jones, and she was going to save him.

She just couldn’t jump in and do it. Not without a plan.

Once they’d decided who was the distraction and who was taking the box, they were ready, but she wasn’t. Each scream pierced her heart, and by this point, the tears were just a permanent fixture that neither of them acknowledged. You couldn’t listen to that kind of pain and not feel it down to your goddamn soul. And she knew that as much as it hurt to hear it, Killian was hurting a thousand times worse while he endured it.

It had only been hours, maybe, but she’d never seen a person look so broken and not be actually dead, and it felt like her fault. Because maybe if she’d been strong and reasonable enough to let go of Henry’s hand for even a second, she would’ve realized that he wasn’t at her side like he was supposed to be. Sure, they’d all been separated into groups that slowly returned to the ship, but she should’ve known. She should’ve been there. He shouldn’t have been here.

None of that mattered now. It was time to save him, and then she could worry about everything else.

Her father kissed her forehead, brushing her tears with his thumbs and offering her a reassuring nod that said we’ve got this, and then he disappeared to play his part. When she stepped into the clearing, she was much more confident than she had any right to be.

“Pan.”

The kid snapped to attention, whirling around to look at her. “Really? You’ve come to rescue the pirate?”

His words, his face, his stupid grin pissed her the fuck off, but what really sold it, the thing that solidified everything for her was the sight of Killian’s hook tucked into Peter Pan’s pocket like it was a fucking souvenir.

“Well, you know what they say about us hero types,” Emma stalled, keeping herself from glancing at Killian where he lay in the dirt. “We don’t leave anyone behind. We come back for everyone. It’s just in our nature.” She had no idea what she was actually saying, she was just talking, just waiting until her father got into place.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you take the pirate, Emma. He’s mine, you see,” Pan told her, and she thought that he’d never looked less than a child with the straight-up evil in his eyes and the weapon in his hand.

She folded her arms across her chest, pulling on strength she didn’t have. “Hm, no, I don’t think he is,” she said, letting some of her anger seep into her voice. “He’s a pirate, sure, but you and I both know that he’s pretty determined about that good form nonsense, and he made me a promise, you know,” Emma continued. “He told me he’d see to it that Henry gets home safely. He can’t do that if he’s here.”

Pan’s shoulders shifted as his chest puffed out, and he wanted something. “How about this,” he said, “the pirate in exchange for your son.”

Emma scoffed. “As I told the Dark One earlier, I’m done playing games. No deals. I’m leaving this island with my son and my pirate and everyone else, and that’s it. You lose, kid.”

Peter Pan grinned, and if she hadn’t just seen David out of the corner of her eye, she would’ve been terrified. “How’s that? I’m not going to let you leave with Henry or the pirate, no matter how much you’re convinced I’m going to,” he said, almost petulant.

“Sorry, I should’ve been clearer,” Emma smiled, “I should’ve mentioned the part about you being captured. Whoops. Too late.”

Emma surged forward, snatching the hook just before Pan was sucked into Pandora’s box from David’s outstretched hand. Neither he nor Emma hesitated for a second before they rushed to Killian where he was no more than a pile of cuts and bruises on the ground, stripped of his coat and his vest and his bravado.

David rolled him onto his side carefully, shooting her a concerned look when he didn’t even flinch.

The hook fell from her grasp and onto the ground beside them. “Killian?” Emma said softly, her hand reaching out to ghost across his sweaty forehead. If she didn’t see the rise and fall of his chest in time with the shuddering breaths he took, she would’ve been certain he was dead, because anyone else would’ve been dead.

“Emma, I have no idea how we’re going to move him when he’s like this,” her father told her, and if he were someone else, that would’ve meant that they’d run out of options, but hope was the family motto.

Emma pushed out a breath, bringing her hands back to her face, running them over her hair and locking a few fingers around her necklace. “Alright, okay, lemme think,” she said, but of course that was when her brain turned to absolute mush.

Time, nonexistent here though it was, was marked with Killian’s shaky breaths, and several minutes passed before David spoke. “Emma…” he began, and when she looked at him, that family motto was shining in his eyes. “Emma, you have magic. You can heal him.”

“I—” I can’t, she wanted to say. But it didn’t matter that she’d never done it, that she had no idea how to, because she’d do it. She’d do anything to save this stupid, ridiculous, insufferable, amazing pirate. He promised that he’d win her heart, and she wasn’t about to lose him right when she finally had a chance to let him.

“How?” she asked, hoping—yes, Emma Swan did things like hope now—he’d know something helpful.

David hesitated, as if he were gathering everything he’d ever learned about magic. “Okay, your magic is about emotion, right?” At her nod, he continued, “Well, that’s good, because you’re feeling a lot of things right now. You want to help him, to heal him, so maybe think about why?”

Emma chuckled, and it was a watery thing, but she wiped the dampness from her cheeks. “I don’t think I’ve cried this much since…I have no idea when,” she confessed.

David met her gaze, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. “Use it.”

She took a breath, her eyes slamming shut so she could focus, but her hand didn’t leave her father’s.

Why was she crying now, this much, after everything? She wasn’t a crier (you couldn’t be in the system that long and still be a crier), so what had changed? All at once, she knew.

Captain Hook is what changed. Killian Jones had towered her walls, and now she was crying over him. Because she felt things. Things with a capital ‘t,’ and it was the first time in her life that she was finally, truly letting herself feel Things, the first time she honestly wanted to. There hadn’t really been a choice with Neal. He was just there, and that’s why she’d loved him. She was young, and he offered her this tiny piece of security and she’d latched onto it, and that was it. It wasn’t even about him, not really, not when she broke it down like that. Everything she felt for Killian Jones was about him.

Right from the start, he’d terrified her, because he could see right through her walls like they were made of glass. He read her because he already spoke the fucking language, but she hadn’t let herself understand that piece until later. But how many times had she been standing beside her family (she had that now), knowing that things were off or just not feeling right because they didn’t quite get it—but then she’d looked over and he’d been watching her because he got it. He knew. And he came back.

Killian Jones had never abandoned her. Well, there was that one time he locked her in a cell, but that was only because she’d just chained him up on the top of a beanstalk and it was honestly only fair, so that was different. Every moment when she waited for him to race off while in Neverland, when leaving her to her fate would’ve been the smart and easy thing to do, he’d proven her wrong (but she wasn’t really wrong, because she didn’t really believe it. She’d trusted him right from the start, and each time he didn’t leave her was somehow both totally surprising and totally predictable).

But it wasn’t just that. It was everything she saw in him when he thought no one was looking. The shadows that crossed his face when they ran into something familiar, the hesitance when offered assistance by anyone, the mysteriously filled waterskins that appeared by her bedroll after his watch. Everything he did for her and her family was a promise that he was no longer a villain—that maybe he’d never actually been one—and she could doubt everyone else (except for Henry), but she couldn’t doubt Killian Jones.

She was falling for him. Hard. She probably already would’ve fallen if she’d let herself, especially if she’d gone with her gut at the top of that beanstalk and trusted him, so she wasn’t about to let him die.

Emma raised her free hand, feeling all of her Feelings and thinking all of the Things, and she healed him, because she needed to. She felt the warmth that radiated from her palm, and when her eyes flickered open, there was a brilliant light that washed over his face and followed the path of her hand as she hovered along his body. The cuts shrank, sealing themselves while the blood seeped back into his skin, and when his breaths were no longer labored, she knew he was healed.

Her father gave her a proud smile (it was watery, too), but their attention was quickly brought back to the groaning pirate.

Killian’s eyes took several fluttering blinks before they focused correctly, and when he spoke, it was no more than a disoriented grunt. “Swan?”

“We’re here,” she said, releasing David’s hand to take Killian’s. “We trapped Pan, Henry’s safe on the Jolly Roger, and now all we need is for you to take us home.”

His eyes were stormy when he looked up at her, and his rough palm lined up with her soft one, and for a single, fleeting moment, it was as if he’d never felt pain in his life. The warmth, the ease, the life he felt holding Emma Swan’s hand made him briefly forget the hours of torture from Pan, and for what may have honestly been the first time in his life, Killian Jones felt safe.

There were many questions that he needed to ask, ones he hadn’t had the chance to think of with his present exhaustion, but he pushed them aside, because she was smiling that smile, the one he’d never imagined could be directed and him, and it lacked the tightness that Pan’s version had. Where Pan’s version had pranced around words, the real Swan was straight to the point and not flowery about anything. But what was most comforting about this Swan was that even though her smile was warm and lovely and nothing like he’d ever seen on her lips, he could see her walls hidden in her gaze, that lingering hesitance, and he knew. She’d come back for him.

“Think you can walk?” David asked him, and it almost made the pirate jump (centuries of always being on his guard, always prepared and aware of his surroundings, and Emma Swan gave him one smile and held his only hand and that was enough to block out the rest of the realm).

Killian nodded, and with some careful maneuvering by Swan and her father, he was upright. He wavered slightly—blood loss, he reasoned, because Emma had definitely healed him with her magic, but there was only so much magic could do—but they secured both of his arms without delay.

“Oh,” Emma paused, bending down to grab his hook. “Thought you’d want this back,” she added with a smile that was almost sheepish.

It was the way she held it that made him lightheaded (not at all related to the blood loss). Her hand was wrapped around the metal like it was nothing but also everything. She didn’t fear it, didn’t scrunch her nose at it—the way she held it was like the way she held his hand: a part of him, something she couldn’t quite bring herself to let go of.

“Thank you, Emma,” he murmured, and all three of them knew it wasn’t just for returning the hook. He gestured for her to attach it, and after a glance of confirmation, she did. And he couldn’t help but feel whole.

#once upon a time fanfiction #ouat fanfic #captain swan #captain swan fanfic #cs ff #captain swan fic #ao3 #Neverland fic #ouat neverland #this is me avoiding my novel and my other actual wip

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

ok but honestly tho my opinion is that they don’t even have to verbally say that they love each other bc the way u and leyla have written their character growt /relationship progression it can see how their actions portray nothing but love and affection like at the start it was the love and affection u have fro a close friend (who u may or may not be fucking) and it like grew into romantic adoration and love like there really do be “i love you” moments in every chapter it’s just not blatantly said like that do u know what i mean i feel like i’m rambling

tl;dr they don’t even need to say i love you to each other bc they both clearly make each other feel it

Yes!!! But also keep in mind that when it comes to romantic relationships, there’s levels to it. There’s dating someone (where you have feelings for them and care for them, etc), and then there’s falling in love with someone, which is where those feelings become way more serious and cement the relationship in a new way. The implied goal for any relationship is usually for it to end in marriage, or for it to at least end in some type life-long partner situation. In order for that to progress and for the relationship to become serious and long-term, there are certain milestones you HAVE to touch, and saying “I love you” out loud is one of those. It might not seem important because they’re just words, but saying it is a really vital part of proving it because anyone can do acts of kindness easily, but following it up by openly admitting that you love someone is a really big step because it’s basically saying, “hey, what I feel for you is something that could potentially become permanent in both of our lives forever” and that’s a monumental claim. It’s sort of like “If you genuinely feel it, you should be able to say it.”

For Harry, he hasn’t really been one to say “I love you” out loud to anyone in literal centuries because last time he said it, it ended terribly for him SKDJWJSJS so he’s kinda stunted with that because in his head it’s like “Well, I’m not really in love with her, I just really like her.” because for him, admitting it and verbally giving someone that reassurance and power over him is where everything in his past went wrong, ya feel?? So he wants to avoid it at all costs, despite the fact that he’s so obviously falling in love, because in his head, it’s like he’s protecting their relationship from ending badly. Alongside that, he knows this won’t last forever because she doesn’t have forever, so if he says it out loud, it’ll just lead to even more heartbreak when everything has to end.

With all of this taken into consideration, you have to remember that in Y/N’s eyes, this is a regular relationship. She sees it normally and she assumes that if things keep going well, one day they’ll get to that level and say it, whereas he knows that he can’t allow it to get to that or else separating will be even worse. It’s an internal battle, really, because when you’re in a relationship, if you tell your partner you love them and they can’t say it back, it ruins everything because it’s a matter of, “You don’t feel as strongly for me as I feel for you, so there’s an unhealthy imbalance in the connection.”

So in this fic, whether he’ll be able to say it out loud or not is a monumental determining factor in their future, and that’s an underlying struggle that’ll be present throughout the whole story bc what if she says it 😳 and he can’t say it back 😳

INTERNAL ANGST IS JUST SO HOT RIGHT NOW

#ysijwa!ask

[elizabear]

my home is your body, how can I stay away?

I WROTE MY FIRST FIC. And I was brave enough to post it. So, if you want to read a fake-friends-to-real-lovers Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes post-Endgame AU where we pretend that Steve and Natasha are still alive and well in the 21st century, you can check it out below or read it on AO3.

Title: my home is your body, how can i stay away?

Rating: Explicit

Category: M/M

Relationship: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes (background Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanoff)

Additional tags: it’s like fake/pretend relationship, but it’s actually fake best friendship, fake friends to real lovers, post-Avengers Endgame, Epilogue What Epilogue, Natasha Romanoff Lives, Steve Rogers Stays, is everyone bi?, ambiguous barbershop quarter, bisexual Sam Wilson, bisexual Bucky Barnes, bisexual Steve Rogers, bisexual Natasha Romanoff, Captain America Sam Wilson

Words: 30,367

Link to AO3 here

Summary: "Anyway, I think if we team up, we can convince Steve that we’re best friends now. Then he’ll get jealous and remember how much more important we are to him than Natalia.”

Sam considers this carefully. He’s never been pressed so close to Bucky before, their faces only inches away from one another. From this distance Sam can see how long and thick Bucky’s eyelashes are. He can smell the pleasant scents of Bucky’s clean sweat and spicy aftershave. 

He wants to press his thumb into the cleft in Bucky’s chin.

“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea,” Sam hears himself say.

“Great!”

After they save the world, after Steve leaves and returns again with a smiling Natasha tucked tenderly underneath his arm, after all the happy and tearful reunions, after Tony Stark’s funeral, Sam Wilson takes a minute to sit his ass underneath a tree and freak the fuck out about the fact that he’s just been dead for the last five years.

He’s listening to a robot tell him for the fifth time that his mother’s number is “no longer in service,” his hand shaking as he presses redial on Steve’s borrowed cell phone. He wants to call his sister, wants to find out what happened to his niece, but he can’t remember his sister’s number and the only thing he can think of to do is just to keep calling his mom over and over again. He’s starting to really settle into the panic attack, gulping for air as his heart pounds wildly in his chest, when Bucky Barnes squats down beside him, perfectly balanced on those lean and powerful thighs.

“You OK?” Bucky asks quietly. Sam shakes his head silently, too overwhelmed to even begin to answer that question.

Like people are just OK after waking up five years in the future. Like people are just OK after turning to ash and then reforming into a human being. What is he even made of right now? Is he made of the same atoms and cells he was made of before he turned to dust? Is he even the same person? Did Sam Wilson die? Is he just a new Sam Wilson that Bruce Banner created out of thin air, a brand new body with the same memories as the first Sam Wilson? God, what is this Ship of Theseus nonsense, everything about this is so fucked up—

“OK, I need you to breathe,” Bucky says gently, interrupting Sam’s spiral into actual fucking madness. Bucky grabs Sam’s hand and pulls it to his chest. “Can you feel my chest moving? Feel me breathing in and out? Stop thinking, close your eyes, and match your breaths to mine.”

Sam squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on the feel of Bucky’s chest rising and falling underneath his hand. Bucky’s sternum is flat and bony underneath Sam’s palm, but he can feel the gentle rise of Bucky’s strong pectoral muscles underneath his fingers. Bucky’s skin is warm through his shirt, and Sam focuses on the solid feel of him as he follows Bucky’s slow and deep breathing. Bucky’s thumb presses firmly against the inside of Sam’s wrist. There’s an anxious tingling all over Sam’s skin, washing over him from head to toe, making Sam afraid that he’s going to buzz right out of his skin.

But Bucky is breathing deep and slow, and Sam lets himself relax into it, feels himself fall in sync with this not-quite-stranger, his best friend’s best friend, who is very considerately trying to keep Sam from falling apart.

“You’re doing great, Sam,” Bucky praises gently. “Just keep breathing, you’re doing great.”

“I hate this,” Sam mutters.

Bucky strokes his thumb over the sensitive skin of Sam’s wrist and leans closer, hesitating briefly before resting his forehead against Sam’s.

“Just breathe, Sam. You’re doing so good,” he murmurs softly.

Sam feels a warmth uncurling deep in his belly, reacting to Bucky’s closeness and his quiet praise. Is Bucky the most instinctually effective peer counselor in the world or is he actually seducing Sam right out of a panic attack? Sam absolutely cannot think about this now, he needs to focus on the original source of his practical and existential terror.

“I hate every part of this,” Sam admits, frustrated. “I hate that I can’t get in touch with my mom. I hate that I don’t know if my niece is OK. Bucky, who has been taking care of my niece?”

“Hey, it’s OK, Sam.” Bucky says, his tone gentle and reassuring. “We’ll find your niece. If she survived the Snap, Steve and Natalia would have kept track of her. They wouldn’t have just let her disappear into the system. You have friends.”

“Right,” Sam says, feeling that glacier sitting atop his chest begin to recede a little. “OK. Friends. Steve and Natasha will know how to find Michelle. I just need to ask Steve and Natasha how to find Sarah and Michelle.”

“Great! See, you have a plan now and everything,” Bucky says encouragingly. “Everything is going to be fine. You’re going to be fine, Sam.” Bucky leans back onto his heels, and Sam breathes a little deeper as the world comes into sharper focus.

Sam nods. This is all going to be fine. He’s alive, he’s breathing, and he has his hand on Bucky Barnes’s warm, firm chest. Bucky’s eyes are kind, and Sam can almost understand, maybe for the first time, why Steve cared so much about bringing Bucky home. Maybe Bucky isn’t so bad. Maybe everything is going to be fine. Sam can just about manage, now, to stuff all this panic inside his chest where it can’t hurt him. If he just stuffs it in there forever, he will never have to deal with it.

Sam takes a moment to congratulate himself on his healthy coping strategies.

“You’re not too bad at this, man,” Sam says. “Where did you learn to handle a panic attack like that?”

“Well, I mean, I had a lot of them after realizing that I was responsible for literally dozens of grisly murders,” Bucky replies dryly. “But also I spent like fifteen years obsessing over the state of Steve Rogers’s lungs and trying to keep him from dying of asthma so he could grow up and be Captain America.”

Right. Captain America. That’s the other thing he’s panicking about.

“Hey, what just happened?” Bucky asks gently. Bucky strokes his thumb over Sam’s wrist. “Your blood pressure just shot way up again.”

“Tell me you’re not some kind of human sphygmomanometer,” Sam says. “I don’t have the patience for that level of weird right now. Stop monitoring my blood pressure. That’s creepy.”

“OK,” Bucky says slowly. “Sorry. What’s going on?”

“Steve asked me to be Captain America. Says he’s not retiring, but he’s needed off-world for a while, and he thinks I should be the one to carry the shield.”

Suddenly, just like that, the strange, tentative peace between them shatters. Bucky’s face turns white, then flushes a deep red.

“Steve asked you to be Captain America,” Bucky repeats coldly. All traces of warmth are gone from Bucky’s face, and Bucky’s mouth settles into a grim line. “Excuse me a moment.”

Sam sighs as Bucky stalks off in Steve’s general direction.

Bucky returns a few moments later, Steve in tow, the two of them having some kind of whisper fight that Sam can’t really hear.

“Can’t believe you would do this—”

“—you know he’s a good choice—”

“—supposed to be your best friend—”

“—c’mon, Buck, you know I wouldn’t—”

Bucky yanks on Steve’s wrist as they approach Sam.

“OK, first of all, Steve, where the fuck is Sam’s family?” Bucky demands.

Steve pales, then looks genuinely contrite. “Oh, God, Sam, I’m sorry. I should have told you right away. Sarah and Michelle, they survived. They both survived the Snap. They’re living in your mom’s apartment in New York.” Steve hesitates for a moment, then adds, “Your mom was one of the ones who disappeared. She was at home watching Michelle when it happened. She should be safe. We’ll get a phone to her right away.”

Sam feels his stomach plunge at the knowledge that Michelle is five years older. He already missed two years of her life on the run with Steve after the Accords. Would she even remember him?

“Nat has your old phone stashed away. It should still have all your contacts in it. Natasha—she paid the bill. Every month you were gone. She never gave up hope we’d get you back,” Steve says, looking proud and a little teary-eyed.

While Sam works on processing the fact that his six-year-old niece is now his eleven-year-old niece, Steve rambles on about Natasha, and how brave she was, and what a rock she was, and how she kept everyone together, and how she sacrificed her life to save everyone, for kind of a while. Sam’s honestly kind of surprised. Steve and Natasha have always been close, but Sam’s never seen Steve as openly effusive about anyone other than James Buchanan Barnes Before The War, Steve’s most favorite person ever.

“OK, that’s great, Steve,” Bucky interrupts in a frosty tone. “But what’s this about Sam being the new Captain America?”

“Oh! Carol wants Natasha and me to go with her to a couple of planets that are struggling to organize after their populations suddenly doubled. Actually, I thought maybe you could come with us, Buck?” Steve offers. “I know how much you love space and—”

“No, Steve, I think I’ll stay here with Sam,” Bucky says stonily, glaring at Steve. Sam is a little stunned.

“What? Why?” Steve asks. He looks a bit like a confused golden retriever. “I thought you’d jump at this opportunity, Bucky, you really—”

“I really think I should stay here. Since I’m Captain America’s right hand man and all. And since Sam is Captain America now.”

Sam doesn’t really know what to do with all of this, because it seems like there’s really a lot going on here between Steve and Bucky that he doesn’t want to get involved with. And honestly, he’s not one hundred percent sold on the idea of working with Bucky at all, since they hardly even know each other. Today is the first time they’ve really interacted in a way that isn’t hostile or at the very least kind of pissy, and to be honest the uncomfortable sexual tension Sam felt earlier wasn’t exactly welcome.

But then a thought occurs to him, and Sam is instantly filled with delight. “So wait. What you’re saying is that you’re going to be my sidekick!”

“What, no, I’m not going to be your sidekick, I’m going to be your partner,” Bucky argues.

“Nuh uh, nope. It’s right there in the comics. Bucky Barnes was Captain America’s sidekick,” Sam says with a smirk. “Are you gonna wear the outfit?”

“What outfit?” asks Bucky, narrowing his eyes.

“Oh! The outfit with the little booty shorts?” Steve asks.

“I’m not wearing an outfit with little booty shorts,” Bucky says scornfully. “I’ll wear my regular outfit.”

“Leather bondage gear it is, then!” Sam replies. He feels more cheerful already.

***

“So what else did we miss?” Sam asks later, when they’re all settled in at one of the cabins on Tony’s property.

Steve and Natasha are tangled up together on the sofa, Natasha’s legs slung over Steve’s lap and her head resting against his chest. Steve and Nat have been trading inside jokes and finishing each other’s sentences all night, and it kind of seems like Sam and Bucky must have really missed a lot, because Sam doesn’t remember Steve and Nat being so telepathically linked before he got dusted.

Bucky is sitting alone, tense and uncomfortable-looking, in a chair near the fire. He must still be pretty pissed at Steve for choosing Sam over him as the next Captain America, because he keeps shooting murder glares at Steve through narrowed eyes. When Steve’s not gazing adoringly at Natasha, he’s busy having a silent argument with Bucky through a complicated series of expressions that include rolled eyes, pleading looks, clenched jaws, and prissy, pursed lips. Sam is honestly feeling pretty left out right now, because there’s a lot of unspoken communication going on here between basically everyone but him.

Steve heaves a frustrated sigh, tears his gaze away from Bucky, and responds, “Well, they built a giant wall between the United States and Mexico. It was a pretty big deal, lots of people were really unhappy.”

“Seriously? Half of the entire United States population disappears, and Americans are still freaking out about immigration from Mexico?” Sam asks incredulously.

“Oh, no, we didn’t build the wall. Mexico actually built the wall,” Natasha says. The wicked look in her eye suggests that this is going to be a good story.

“Wait, what? That stupid promise actually came true?” Bucky asks.

“Well, kind of?” Natasha says, giving a little so-so motion with her hand. “Mexico didn’t actually build the wall because of illegal immigration, though. They built it after a bunch of riots and border skirmishes in late 2020.”

“So, what? Gang violence? Drug cartels?” Sam asks.

“Nope. It was the season finale of a television show on the CW called Supernatural,” Steve explains, as if this doesn’t make the whole thing somehow even more confusing.

“You’re telling me that we were gone for five years and now CW shows are a source of tension between the United States and Mexico and they built an entire wall about it,” Sam says, raising his eyebrows.

Sam is dubious as hell about this new foolishness—he’s starting to feel a lot more sympathetic towards Steve’s frustration with all the impenetrable pop culture references people expected him to grasp—but Bucky visibly perks up at the mention of Supernatural. “Oh, how did that go? Is Destiel canon yet?” Bucky asks.

“No,” Steve responds at the same time that Natasha replies, “Si.” Then they both cackle wildly, as if this is some seriously comedic shit, and honestly, Sam’s getting a little annoyed with all their inside jokes. He sneaks a look over at Bucky to see how he’s responding to all this, and Sam is relieved to feel slightly less like an asshole when he sees that Bucky doesn’t look any more charmed by Steve and Natasha’s Abbott and Costello routine than Sam feels.

“OK,” Sam says slowly, really drawing the word out. “So I guess if I want to understand all of that”—here, Sam gestures broadly at Steve and Natasha, attempting to convey his incredulity at their unnecessary dramatics—“that you just did, and apparently also current U.S. foreign policy, I’m going to have to watch a TV show on the CW.”

“It’s fifteen seasons, it makes for great depression watching,” says Natasha, shrugging. Bucky nods in agreement. “And Steve was pretty genuinely moved by the relationship between the two brothers.”

Steve confirms this with a solemn nod. “They were brothers, but they were also best friends.”

“Anyway it was better than a lot of the junk we watched while you were gone,” Natasha continues. “Half the time Steve and I spent in bed together we were just binge watching trash tv and getting overly invested in the love lives of twenty-five year olds pretending to be teenagers pretending to be detectives.”

Bucky shoots Sam a significant glance at this, somehow communicating half the time they spent in bed together? with the tense raising of his eyebrows alone, and says, “Sam and I will watch Supernatural together. I’ll get him caught up.”

And yeah, maybe fifteen seasons sounds like an awful lot of time to commit to spite-watching a television show with Bucky just to handle how weird he feels about Steve and Natasha’s whole new bed sharing thing together, but then Bucky stretches his arms over his head and reveals a pale sliver of belly, little trail of hair drawing Sam’s eyes pleasingly downward.

“Yeah, all right,” Sam says. After all, this Supernatural show does sound pretty important to this sketchy new future Sam didn’t ask to find himself in.

Bucky turns to Steve. “So when do you and Natalia have to head out?”

“Probably in a week or two. We want to make sure everything’s settled here before we head out.”

“A week or two, Steve, really? You think Sam’s going to be ready to be Captain America in a week or two,” Bucky says flatly.

Sam thinks Bucky sort of has a point, but out of loyalty to Steve and his own sense of competence he keeps his mouth shut.

Steve’s shoulders hunch defensively. “It’s going to be fine, you’re going to do a great job supporting Sam.”

“I shouldn’t have to support Sam, Steve—”

“Bucky, c’mon, you know I wouldn’t have—”

“Not even a supersoldier, Steve—”

“Sam doesn’t have to be—”

Natasha is listening to this argument with a fond look on her face, like she actually missed this shit while they were gone.

“OK, listen,” Sam interrupts before Steve and Bucky get too distracted by their bullshit. “The Captain America thing is huge, yeah. But I feel like maybe we also need to be concerned about the world’s population suddenly doubling instantaneously? That’s kind of a big deal.”

“Oh!” Steve lights up. “Natasha’s had a plan set up for that since like a week after you guys disappeared. She’s spent the last five years preparing for every contingency, basically every scientific or magical possibility that might bring you guys back. In fact, phase one has already started, getting lines of communication open to reconnect families and arranging emergency housing.”

Steve beams down at Natasha, and then—Sam can’t even fucking believe this—Natasha actually blushes in response. Steve and Natasha are, respectively, the most repressed and tightly controlled people Sam knows, and now they’re acting like emotionally healthy people who express their feelings in front of other people? Sam is suspicious as hell, and when he looks over at Bucky, Bucky is bug-eyed, looking frantically and significantly at Sam with that unmistakable are you seeing this too, what the fuck expression on his face. Sam hates the fact that things are so weird now that he’s bonding with Bucky over this.

“Pepper Potts is coordinating everything through the Avengers Foundation,” Natasha says. “She needs something to do right now, and she’s basically the most frighteningly efficient person I know, so. Your only job right now is figuring out how to work together without killing each other.”

Natasha eyes them both a bit skeptically, and Sam is instantly offended at this implied slight to his professionalism.

“Bucky and I are going to do great,” Sam says. “We are definitely going to be absolutely fine at working together.” He shoots Bucky a hard look, daring him to disagree.

“Absolutely fine,” Bucky repeats dutifully, then hesitates. “You’re sure, though, right, Sam? You really want to do the Captain America thing?”

“Definitely,” Sam confirms. Bucky searches his eyes for a moment, then nods, apparently satisfied with whatever he finds.

“Great!” Natasha says with a pleased smile, and shares a satisfied look with Steve.

“Anyway,” Sam says, changing the subject, before they can figure out Sam has no fucking clue how to be Captain America and definitely doesn’t feel certain about working with Bucky Barnes. “What else did we miss while we were gone? How did Brexit go?”

“Oh, God,” Steve says.

***

The next morning, Sam walks down to the cabin’s kitchen for breakfast and finds a disaster.

“Is this a murder board?” he asks, aghast.

The wall next to the kitchen table is absolutely covered in papers that have been hastily pinned up, and there are at least eleven different colors of string stretched together in a complicated web over top of them, forming a bizarre rainbow of crazy. Where did Bucky even find that many different colors of string in the middle of the night? Did he break into a Joann Fabrics?

The kitchen table is littered with papers as well, and Sam counts six different green tea bags sitting on a napkin next to Bucky’s mug. “Have you been up all night?”

“No! And yes!” Bucky answers, his eyes red rimmed and wild, looking simultaneously exhausted and absolutely frantic with energy. He cards his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Do you know how much money Stark was spending on the Avengers Initiative after you guys blew up SHIELD? The litigation team! The insurance premiums! The property damage settlements! Weapons and technology! Research and development! Sam, the cost was astronomical!”

“Wait, this is all financial stuff? I thought this was more of, like, a traditional murder board situation here.” Sam pauses, then struck with sudden uncertainty, he asks, “Is financial stuff part of Captain America stuff?”

“Well, I mean, kind of, yeah,” Bucky responds. He stands up and restlessly paces the tiny kitchen. “You didn’t think you were going to just run off with the shield and, like, live off the kindness of strangers or something, did you?”

“Obviously, no,” Sam says, offended. Actually, though—not that Sam is going to admit it—Sam hasn’t had a real job in so long that he sort of forgot that this was going to be an issue. “Wait, did you get all this stuff by hacking Stark Industries?”

“Well, yeah,” says Bucky, defensive now. “I didn’t want to be rude and ask Ms. Potts in the middle of the night. Also I killed her daughter’s grandparents.”

Sam considers this for a moment, then shrugs. “Yeah, that’s fair,” he says. “So what about the funding we had before? Is that gone?”

“It’s not gone, but there’s no way the money in Steve’s and my bank account will be enough.”

“Wait, you and Steve share a bank account?” Sam asks, raising his eyebrows.

Bucky’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Well, yeah, of course. Why would Steve and I need separate bank accounts?” he asks, looking puzzled.

“Why would you...” Sam repeats faintly. “OK. Moving on from that codependent nonsense, you and Steve were the ones funding us while we were on the run? Steve never said.”

“Well, I mean, I did steal a bunch of money from HYDRA, and Steve had some backpay saved up. But there’s no way Steve and I have Captain America money. Stark barely had Captain America money. Sam, he was spending down his entire fortune on the Avengers Initiative. Did you guys know he was doing that?”

Sam closes his eyes, shaking off the waves of guilt and grief he felt at the mention of Tony’s generosity. “No, I didn’t,” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” Bucky says grimly. “It’s bad. Like, really, really bad. You aren’t an international fugitive anymore. If you want to be Captain America, you won’t be able to just save people, destroy a few buildings, then dash off to the next country before the police catch up to you. You have to actually deal with the fallout afterward. And, most importantly, and I cannot stress this enough, you need actual income. Was Stark seriously the only one of you with a real job?”

“I mean, yeah?”

“Of course he was,” Bucky says, deflating and leaning back against the counter with a thud. “God, you’re all idiots. I went off to war in the 1940s and I left one Steve back at home. Then I fell off a train, woke up seventy years later, and found out that Steve managed to find an entire team full of Steves, and each one of you is just as beautiful and heroic and stupid and utterly impractical as he is.” Bucky raises his metal hand to massage his temples, apparently fighting a headache so powerful that even his serum-enhanced regular arm isn’t strong enough to deal with it.

Sam carefully ignores Bucky’s insinuation that he finds Sam beautiful and heroic. Instead he pours Bucky a glass of water and slides it over to him. “OK, so what do we do?”

“Well, you’re not going to like it.”

“I’m not, huh? Just tell me.”

“We have to rebuild SHIELD,” Bucky states firmly. “We have to get in touch with Nick Fury.”

“Absolutely not,” Sam says.

“Sam, it’s the only reasonable choice. We can’t afford to privately fund your career as a superhero, OK? I mean, the insurance? The legal team? I’ve drafted fifteen different budgets and there’s no way we can get this off the ground. But if we rebuild SHIELD, there’ll be funding and qualified immunity. You won’t even have to work directly for SHIELD. You could be an independent contractor.”

“I don’t like this.”

“I know. But it’s the only way.”

“Is Fury even going to listen to us, though?” Sam asks skeptically. “Like, will he even hire you? You shot him, like, five times.”

Bucky grimaces. “Yeah, that wasn’t great. But listen, the man’s probably been waiting for this moment for years. If he can get Steve and Natalia’s public support behind SHIELD 2.0? He’ll seize the chance.”

“Shit,” Sam says.

***

When Steve and Natasha come downstairs, sleepy and happy looking, casually emerging from the same bedroom that Sam knows only has one queen size bed, like bed sharing is just a regular part of their regular lives now, Bucky introduces them to the financial murder board.

“So if you really want to do this, if you want Sam to be Captain America, we need to rebuild SHIELD,” Bucky concludes.

“SHIELD?” Natasha perks up. “We’re getting the old gang back together?”

“Natasha, like, 40% of the old gang were secret Nazis,” Steve says reproachfully. “And more importantly, Nick Fury didn’t notice they were secret Nazis.”

“He definitely started to suspect something was wrong near the end there, though,” says Natasha.

“Well, he’s our best shot at getting government funding, so unless you want to ask Tony Stark’s grieving widow for money, I think this is the best we can do.” Bucky turns to Natasha. “Natalia, you know how to get in touch with him, right?” he asks.

“I do. Pepper sent out working satellite phones via courier last night. They should have arrived by this morning. I’ll give him a call,” Natasha says. “He’s going to love this.”

“Your mom should have gotten a phone too, Sam,” Steve says. “I’ll text you her number so you can give her a call.”

“Thanks, man,” Sam says, relieved. While Steve works on sending Sam his mom’s contact info—does Steve’s phone have a holographic display? Does Old Man Steve know how to work a phone with a holographic display?—Sam asks Bucky, “How did you even pull all these records together, by the way? Are you like a secret accountant?”

“Bucky worked as an actuary before the war,” Steve responds absently, thumbing at some buttons on his phone screen. “He was getting his degree in mathematics before he dropped out to enlist.”

“An actuary?” Natasha asks thoughtfully. “I can see that. That actually makes a lot of sense.”

“It paid the bills,” Bucky allows.

When Sam receives Steve’s text with his mom’s contact info, he steps outside for a bit of privacy. Sam watches Steve and Natasha leaning together through the sliding glass window as he waits for his mom to answer the phone. Sam feels a pit growing deep in his belly, a black hole that’s been sucking in everything Sam could have lived and built and experienced in the past five years, leaving him empty and lonely and lost, missing parts of himself that he should have been gaining. Inside, Bucky is standing alone in front of murder board, his shoulders tense, while Steve and Natasha talk and smile and touch each other’s forearms.

“Sam? Sam, baby, are you OK?”

“Mom!” Sam exclaims. “Mom, I’m OK. I’m OK.”

“Thank God,” she says in relief. “We’re OK too. Sarah and Michelle, they’ve been living in my apartment. Michelle’s eleven years old now, Sam. We missed five years of her life. How did this happen?”

And Sam tells her how it happened. He tells her about the battle, and then the second battle, and then realizing that he had died and was resurrected by magical stones. He tells her about Bucky Barnes, standing there in disgruntled disbelief when Steve and Natasha explained that they’d woken up five years into the future, his only reaction to state flatly, “I was told that this wouldn’t happen to me again.”

When he tells her that Steve’s asked him to be the new Captain America, Sam’s mom gasps in surprise. “Captain America? Sam, are you sure?”

“Yeah, Mom. I am sure. I think I could really do some good,” Sam says softly.

“Do you have good people around you? Do you have people who will take care of you?”

Sam thinks of Steve and Natasha leaving for space in a few weeks, moving on to bigger and more complicated catastrophes, superheroes who’ve grown so powerful and competent and amazing that they’re needed elsewhere, on worlds larger than their own. And then he thinks of Bucky Barnes staying up all night to do superhero math so Sam can be Captain America, even though Bucky is apparently pissed that Steve chose Sam for the honor instead of him.

“Yeah,” Sam says. “I have people who will take care of me.”

***

That evening, Sam and Bucky sit at the table and watch Steve and Natasha put together the most disgusting struggle dinner Sam has ever seen. Steve is piling gross stacks of bologna onto bread and seems to think condiments are optional, while Natasha has dumped a bag of iceberg lettuce into a bowl and poured an entire bottle of ranch dressing on top of it. This, she insists, is a “salad.” Steve and Natasha move expertly around each other in the kitchen like they’re performing a choreographed dance, casually touching each other’s shoulders and hips as they slide past each other. Obviously they’ve created this sort of repulsive dinner situation more than once. What have these two been eating for the last five years? Sam can’t resist glancing up at Bucky to catch a look of horror on Bucky’s face, his nose scrunched up in disgust.

When Steve sets their plates of dry bologna sandwiches and the soggy bowl of lettuce onto the table onto the table, Bucky suddenly announces that he’s vegan.

“You are?” Steve asks suspiciously. “Since when?”

Sensing an opportunity, Sam rushes to support Bucky’s desperate ploy to avoid this dinner. “Bucky and I are both vegan, actually. It’s new.”

“Really,” Natasha says. “You and Bucky do stuff together now. Stuff like going vegan.”

“Uh huh,” Sam says staunchly.

The best way to handle Natasha is just to brazen it out. She’ll suspect that you’re lying, but she won’t actually say anything until she has proof. Unfortunately, she’ll stoop to any and all means—however invasive or conniving—to catch you out. Sam guesses he and Bucky are both vegan forever now.

“Go ahead and eat your dinner,” Bucky says. “I’ll just make Sam and me something while you guys eat.”

While Steve and Natasha eat and trade inside jokes and talk about a bunch of political events Sam does not understand—did Michigan actually successfully secede from the Union?—Sam watches in astonishment as Bucky prepares the most incredible looking burrito bowls Sam’s ever seen in his life. In like twenty minutes, the dude whips up some chipotle lime black beans, diced tomatoes, corn, fajita veggies, and quinoa, then proceeds to make pineapple mango salsa from scratch using a mortar and pestle. Where did Bucky even get these ingredients? The last time Sam checked, the fridge was almost empty.

Bucky looks relaxed and capable, and Sam watches the muscles in Bucky’s back shift and move as he chops and grinds and sautés. Bucky’s got a kitchen towel slung casually over his shoulder, and a few strands of hair at his temples curl a bit in the steam coming off the stove top.

“So what else did y’all get up to in the last five years?” Sam asks.

“Oh! Should we tell them about the—” Natasha begins, her eyes lighting up.

“You mean the dude with the—”

“With the plastic fangs!” Natasha finishes, wheezing with laughter. “What was that guy’s name? Oh, God—”

“—Baron Blood!” they exclaim in unison, cackling.

Sam can’t help but feel a little annoyed by how easily Steve and Natasha finish each other’s sentences. Sam knows, intellectually, that Steve and Natasha lived each one of the five years that went by in seconds for him and Bucky. He knows that Steve and Natasha have always been close and that it makes sense for them to, like, trauma bond after everything they’ve gone through together. But he’s never felt so left out by his own best friends before. He looks over at Bucky, relieved when he sees his own feelings of frustration and isolation mirrored on Bucky’s face.

“Wait, you fought the Bloody Baron from Harry Potter?” Bucky asks.

“No, it was Baron Blood, not the Bloody Baron.”

“Was the guy an actual baron, or were his parents just rich and tacky? Was his first name Baron?” Sam asks, fascinated despite himself.

“I think it was, like, a self-appointed title?” Natasha says. “I don’t think he was a real baron. Anyway, Steve decapitated him with his shield.”

“He was a Nazi vampire,” Steve explains.

“Like an actual vampire? Are we fighting actual vampires now?” Sam asks.

“I think so,” Natasha says doubtfully. “Steve had to soak his shield in holy water blessed by the pope first. It was a whole thing.”

“Wait, are you guys talking about Todd?” Bucky asks. “Brown hair, red eyes, ranted a lot about what an important superpower echolocation was?”

“Yes! Did you know this guy?” Steve asks.

“Eh, we weren’t close or anything. But there were some weird ass HYDRA experiments in the eighties and nineties. Most people these days think the Satanic Panic was a myth, but actually HYDRA really did have agents trying to indoctrinate daycare kids into supernatural cults. Todd was one of the evil brainwashed HYDRA daycare kids, volunteered to get some really hinky stuff done to him to try to create a master race of genetically pure vampires. Oh, and he was super obsessed with you, Steve.”

“Oh, God, was he ever,” Natasha says. “Let me tell you what he did when he got Steve tied up in his gross dungeon—”

***

While Natasha says goodbye to Bucky, squeezing Bucky and muttering something in Russian in Bucky’s ear, Sam is startled to feel Steve grab him tightly and pull him into an aggressive hug. Sam takes a minute to breathe in Steve’s familiar, comforting smell—still wearing Bay Rum even after all this time—and rests his chin on Steve’s strong shoulder.

“We love you,” Steve says, then hands him off to Natasha.

Natasha gives him a sweet kiss on the mouth. “We’ll miss you,” she says.

When Steve and Natasha disappear into the distance, Sam looks over at Bucky. “We, we, we,” Bucky says wryly.

***

Six weeks later, Sam and Bucky have formed a pretty solid partnership. They’re still living in one of the cabins on Tony Stark’s property in upstate New York for now, but they’re scheduled to report for duty at the new SHIELD headquarters in New York City on Monday.

Steve and Natasha are coming back to Earth this evening, scheduled for security briefings and press events promoting the resurrection of SHIELD, promising the public that Sam is going to make a great Captain America and that there definitely aren’t any more secret Nazis in the upper echelons of power at SHIELD.

As far as Sam can tell, Bucky’s still pretty pissed at Steve for asking Sam to be Captain America instead of him, but fortunately that grudge doesn’t seem to be carrying over to Sam. Instead, Bucky is perfectly pleasant and helpful as hell, which is pretty terrific considering the fact that Sam could use all the help he can get right now. Learning how to use the shield—especially while flying—is complicated as fuck and Sam probably would have lost patience pretty quickly without Bucky reassuring him that Steve was shit at math and definitely was not doing trigonometric calculations in his head while he fought.

“Does Steve seem like the kind of guy who’s doing a lot of thinking while he’s fighting? No, this is all practice and muscle memory,” says Bucky, clapping Sam’s shoulder. “C’mon, Steve and Natalia are scheduled to get here in like an hour. Let’s take showers and get ready to meet them for dinner.”

It’s humid as fuck outside and Bucky’s shirt is drenched in sweat, clinging so tightly to his skin that Sam can count each one of his abdominal muscles individually. Bucky raises a water bottle to his mouth and takes a long pull. Sam watches a drip of sweat slide down Bucky’s throat.

“Yeah, good plan,” Sam says. A cool shower sounds really refreshing right now.

***

When they meet Steve and Natasha for dinner, Sam nearly forgets that he and Bucky are pretending to be vegan until Bucky orders a wheatberry salad and then kicks Sam underneath the table. Sam grimaces and reaches down to rub his shin, looking regretfully at the shiny picture of the giant burger and fries that Steve ordered on his menu.

“I’ll have the wheatberry salad too,” Sam says, trying not to sound too sad about it.

Steve and Natasha are bursting with stories about space. They’re happy and full of excitement, and if anything, they’re somehow even closer than when they left. They have very strong feelings about Kree politics, and they tell a lot of stories about famous people from space that Sam does not know. They touch each other constantly.

The wheatberry salad is amazing.

“So what else happened while we were gone?” Bucky asks, mercifully changing the subject from the boring Kree legislative process. “How did the last season of Game of Thrones go?”

“Oh, it was incredible,” Natasha raves, her eyes lighting up. “David Benioff and D. B. Weiss were taken in the Snap, so they had to hire this fantasy author named Brandon Sanderson to write it. Everyone was really skeptical about how it would go—especially with half of the cast gone—but he did an amazing job. It’s now considered one of the strongest finales of any show in history.”

“You know, I never could get into Game of Thrones,” Sam remarks. “All those big-budget fantasy dynastic political dramas are just so unrealistic.”

“See, that’s what Shuri said when I told her I was watching it to research living in a monarchy after I moved to Wakanda,” Bucky says. “But then her secret illegitimate cousin traveled from across the sea to claim her brother’s throne in a trial by combat. And then her supposedly slain brother dramatically returned from the dead with the help of a magical herb in order to defeat the usurper in battle, so.” Bucky lifts his shoulders and raises his hands in a sort of smug, so who turned out to be right there? kind of shrug.

“Yeah, OK,” Sam concedes, tipping his head to acknowledge the point.

“It’s crazy that we’ll never know how much better it could have been with Benioff and Weiss at the helm, though,” Steve says, and Sam’s stomach drops a bit as he’s hit by another wave of wrongness, that same ears-ringing, tunnel-vision-forming wrongness he’s been feeling since he dramatically returned from the dead. Because what’s the deal with Steve being so literate in pop culture that he not only watches hit prestige dramas but actually knows the names of the writers? To Sam, it was just a few weeks ago that Steve declared Star Trek: The Next Generation “a bit too flashy” for his taste.

“Hey, did George R. R. Martin ever finish the books?” Bucky asks hopefully.

“No, he died,” Steve says.

***

Later that night, after Steve and Natasha have conspicuously gone to bed together, Bucky grabs Sam’s hand, puts a finger to his lips, quirks an eyebrow, and leads Sam silently into a small closet on the first floor of the house. The closet is full of thick winter coats that push Sam and Bucky right up against a wall, their bodies pressed tightly together. Bucky turns on the flashlight app from his phone to give them some light.

“What are we doing in here?” Sam whispers.

“It’s the only place in the house where Steve won’t be able to hear us. Just keep your voice down,” Bucky explains.

“Oh, shit. We’re not plotting to overthrow SHIELD again, are we?”

“No!” Bucky says. “It’s been like six weeks. HYDRA won’t have a secret majority interest in SHIELD for another twenty years at least. Look, have you noticed how Steve and Natalia are, like, obsessed with each other now?”

“Yes! What is with that? I thought I was Steve’s best friend!” Sam hisses.

“Well, you and Steve are definitely close friends,” Bucky says skeptically. “But best friendship is an exclusive relationship. It’s the closest and most intimate connection you can have with someone. And you can only have one of them. Your best friend is someone you would kill for, someone that you would die for, someone you would come back from seventy years of brainwashing for. Someone you would drop the very symbol of everything you believe in for. So, I think we can all agree that I was Steve’s best friend.”

Bucky looks pretty self-satisfied after that whole speech.

“I don’t think we can all agree that you were Steve’s best friend,” Sam says, tilting his head skeptically.

“Well, I was, but the point is that I don’t think I am anymore. I think Natalia might be Steve’s best friend now,” Bucky whispers, irritated.

“I know! I hate it,” Sam confesses. “Steve and Nat and I used to all be best friends. Now they have all these inside jokes and I feel left out all the time.”

“Again, Sam, you can’t have two best friends,” Bucky corrects. “Anyway, I know we haven’t always gotten along in the past, and maybe some of us have made mistakes like kicking people off helicarriers or wrecking their cars, but I think if we want Steve back, we might be able to work together on this.”

“I’m listening,” Sam says.

“OK, so I think we need to try to make them jealous.”

“I don’t think Nat gets jealous. Does Steve get jealous?” Sam says doubtfully.

“Oh, Steve gets jealous,” Bucky confirms. “Did you know that like five seconds after I admitted that I remembered growing up with Steve, he immediately started getting passive aggressive about some redhead named Dot that I spent three dollars on back in 1937? It was like the very first thing he brought up.”

“Oh, God, was Dot short for Dolores?” Sam asks. “Steve complained about her all the time while we were out searching for you.”

“That was her!” Bucky says. “Steve was so jealous of Dolores. Anyway, I think if we team up, we can convince Steve that we’re best friends now. Then he’ll get jealous and remember how much more important we are to him than Natalia.”

Sam considers this carefully. He’s never been pressed so close to Bucky before, their faces only inches away from one another. From this distance Sam can see how long and thick Bucky’s eyelashes are. He can smell the pleasant scents of Bucky’s clean sweat and spicy aftershave.

He wants to press his thumb into the cleft in Bucky’s chin.

“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea,” Sam hears himself say.

“Great!”

***

The next day, while Steve and Natasha are busy in meetings with Rhodey and Fury, Sam moves into his new apartment in Brooklyn. It’s not actually so much his new apartment so much as it is Steve’s old apartment, but apparently Steve doesn’t need it anymore since he’s spending so much time out in space with Natasha and he “can always just stay with Nat while I’m in town, it’s no trouble, Sam, Natasha and I are used to bunking together.”

Sam actually has a lot of questions about how used to bunking together Steve and Natasha are.

Sam’s unpacking his clothes when he hears the doorbell ring. His spine stiffens and his fingers twitch for a weapon. Steve and Natasha are both scheduled to be out for hours still, and Steve’s a pretty private guy. Sam doubts many people know about his apartment.

He grabs a gun from his safe, loads it, and walks silently toward the front door.

“Sam, I know you’re in there.”

The muffled voice on the other side of the door is thankfully familiar. Sam feels the tension in his chest release and he lowers his gun. It’s just Bucky.

Unfortunately, all that tension in Sam’s chest immediately returns when Sam opens the door to discover that Bucky is, for some reason, carrying a duffel bag and surrounded by cardboard boxes. Sam’s stomach sinks.

“What the fuck, Sam?” Bucky complains, shoving past him into the entryway and setting down his bag. “You didn’t even look through the peephole to make sure no one was holding me at gunpoint? If we’re going to live together you’re going to have to be a lot more careful about security. I have a lot of enemies.”

“I’m sorry, if we’re going to live together?” Sam repeats, horrified. He puts the safety back on his gun and sets it down onto the counter.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Um, yes? Remember our whole fake-best-friends plan? You literally just agreed to it last night. Here, help me with these boxes.”

Bucky goes back into the hallway, where he bends over to lift a box labeled “pots and pans,” his skinny jeans stretching obscenely over his ass and thighs.

“Yeah, OK,” Sam says, and follows him out into the hallway.

***

“OK, so, explain this to me again: why does being fake best friends mean that we have to be actual roommates?” Sam asks later, passing Bucky a beer.

They’re sitting on Sam’s couch now, surrounded by fifteen boxes labeled, variously: “favorite grenade launchers,” “crossbows,” “guns (1 of 10),” “scopes and silencers,” “marijuana,” and “warm sweaters.”

“Is this beer vegan?” Bucky asks, checking the label. “Hold on, I’m gonna need to look this up.”

“Wait, are you actually vegan?” Sam asks, watching in astonishment as Bucky pulls up an app on his phone, types in the name of the beer Steve left in the fridge, frowns, and then gets up to put the beer back into the fridge. “I thought we were just pretending to be vegan to avoid Steve’s bologna sandwiches and that gross salad.”

“We were! But then I looked it up afterward to make sure I could pull this off in front of Natalia and I actually read a lot of really harrowing and kind of horrifying stuff about animal agriculture,” Bucky says, grimacing. “Anyway, if we want Steve and Natalia to believe that we’re best friends, we’re going to have to live together. Steve and I always lived together, and Steve moved in with you like five seconds after he met you.”

“To be fair to Steve, he did make it two very sad years living alone in the most depressing apartment I have ever seen, and he didn’t move in with me until you shot a man through his walls,” Sam says.

“That was just an excuse,” Bucky says, waving his hand airily. “Steve and I spent the entire winter of 1937 living in an uninsulated attic apartment with a broken window. If Steve didn’t want to live with you, he would have just slapped some duct tape over those bullet holes and gotten an extra blanket.”

Sam considers this and then reluctantly concedes the point. He’s seen Steve look unnervingly comfortable in some pretty horrific living situations over the past couple of years.

“All right, fine. But do we really need every gun ever made in our living room? I feel like surrounding yourself with this amount of weaponry has got to be an unhealthy coping strategy.”

Sam feels pretty confident about this—he’d been like three-quarters of the way through his Master’s coursework to become a licensed professional counselor when Steve Rogers bulldozed his way into his life.

“And what are we going to do if we need to take down SHIELD again, Sam?” Bucky demands. “How much do we really trust Nick Fury? Anyway, we aren’t storing these in the living room, Sam, that would be tacky.”

“Uh huh,” Sam says, his stomach sinking. “And where are we storing them?” He has a bad feeling about this.

“In the spare bedroom, of course.”

“What spare bedroom.”

“The spare bedroom-slash-armory! We only really need one bedroom, Sam. Steve and I always shared a bedroom.”

“Did you,” Sam says. “And I suppose you shared a bed too.”

“Of course we did. Why would Steve and I need separate beds? We were best friends.”

Bucky gives Sam an odd look, like he thinks Sam in the one being strange about this. As if indefinitely sharing a bed is just normal best friend stuff. Sam wants to believe that this is some kind of Depression era, growing-up-in-poverty sort of thing, but honestly Steve and Bucky are just so intensely weird about each other that Sam is pretty sure that it’s actually a Steve-and-Bucky thing.

Sam thinks about sharing a bed with Bucky every night. He wonders if Bucky wears a shirt to bed, or if Bucky slides into bed bare-chested, wearing only a pair of shorts or maybe even just some tightly fitted boxer briefs.

“All right,” Sam says, sighing.

***

Later that night, when they’re lying in bed catching up on Supernatural—he has got to know how this show somehow became relevant to international geopolitics—Bucky leans over to pull a huge bag of weed out of the nightstand. Then he slowly, carefully rolls the fattest joint Sam has ever seen. It’s somehow absolutely massive but still structurally sound and perfectly balanced. Sam puts the show on pause because he has a lot of questions about this.

“Where did you learn how to do that? Does marijuana even work on you?” Sam asks. “Did you learn how to do this as part of that whole Eat Pray Love thing you did while Steve and I were looking for you?”

“What? No. Steve taught me how to do this back in the thirties.”

“Excuse me, Steve Rogers taught you how to roll a joint in the thirties? Steve ‘Captain America’ Rogers knows how to roll a joint?” Sam asks, scandalized.

“Yes? I didn’t have any other friends named Steve—actually, Steve was always my only friend,” Bucky says offhandedly. “Anyway, Stevie started rolling his own asthma cigarettes when he was like twelve, had those perfect long-fingered artist hands even when he was little. Then when he started art school he started bringing home marijuana after class. He’d roll us a joint and we’d sit out on the fire escape and smoke before bed every night.”

“Steve Rogers,” Sam says, wonderingly. “What a little punk.”

“Right? I’m always saying that but no one ever believes me. Here,” Bucky says, passing the joint over to Sam. Sam hesitates for a moment—he hasn’t smoked pot since before he joined the Air Force—but then he gives a mental shrug, figuring that SHIELD probably isn’t going to drug test him. Yeah, Nick Fury is kind of a dick, but Sam doubts that he’d give a shit about a little recreational marijuana use.

Sam feels a little thrill when he raises Bucky’s joint to his lips, the paper still slightly damp from Bucky’s saliva. He seals his mouth around the end of the joint and sucks in deeply, sharing this wet vicarious kiss with Bucky, who watches Sam’s mouth with interest. Sam feels the sharp burn in his lungs as he holds in the smoke, then coughs violently when he exhales, passing the joint back to Bucky.

“Damn,” he says. “This stuff still works for you?”

“Yep,” Bucky says. “HYDRA wanted to make sure they’d still be able to drug the shit out of me when they were experimenting with their own version of the serum, so unlike some reckless assholes who actually volunteered to get the bona fide serum, I can still get stoned. Which is I guess some small consolation for spending seventy years on some pretty intense amphetamines and weird psychosis-inducing experimental drug cocktails.”

“Yikes. Well, that makes sense, I guess,” Sam says. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Bucky pauses. “Well, it’s not fine fine. But I’m fine. Now.”

“I’m glad,” Sam says, and he realizes he means it.

***

The first time Sam fucks up as Captain America, he finds out the answer to a great personal mystery: why Steve Rogers was considered “the greatest tactician in American military history.”

It’s not because Steve is actually a great tactician—in fact, Steve is an instinctive fighter, brash and brave and most of all impulsive.

Apparently, the real reason Steve was considered the greatest tactician in American military history is because Peggy Carter was the greatest tactician in American military history, and Bucky Barnes was the greatest bullshitter in American military history.

When Maria Hill orders them to Fury’s office for debriefing after that disastrous mission, Bucky grabs Sam’s arm and digs his nails into the tender skin on the underside of Sam’s forearm.

“Whatever you do, do not say anything,” Bucky hisses. “Just shut the fuck up, and let me handle this. I mean it.”

“I need to take responsibility for this, Bucky. Steve would take responsibility for this.”

“Steve would absolutely not take responsibility for this,” Bucky states firmly. “Trust me, I’ve been bailing that little punk out of trouble for one hundred years. Do not say anything.”

When they get to Fury’s office, Sam witnesses an actual miracle. Fury begins by asking them a series of terse questions in a clipped tone that slowly grows more and more agreeable as Bucky’s answers—calm, thoughtful, and pleasant—make Sam’s actions sound both necessary and entirely reasonable. The tone shifts from an interrogation to a more customary debrief, and by the end Fury’s countenance is less thunderous and more just his sort of standard expression of grim disapproval.

The truly bewildering part is that Bucky’s explanations for Sam’s behavior are so convincing that Sam himself is now questioning whether he even fucked up at all. Nothing Bucky says is a lie, and Sam’s not even sure he would characterize anything as misleading, but nevertheless Sam slowly moves from the distinct impression that both he and Fury considered the mission a failure, to the cautious notion that maybe he’d actually made the best of a bad job after all.

When Fury dismisses them, he offers them a gruff, “Excellent work, gentlemen,” and then he actually claps Sam on the shoulder as Sam walks out the door.

What the fuck.

***

“Excuse me, are you some kind of hypnotist or sorcerer?” Sam hisses when they return to their office. “What the fuck was all that?”

“Should we get Thai food for lunch? I’m thinking pad see ew,” Bucky muses, scrolling through the menu on his phone. “What about you?”

“Get me the tofu pad thai,” Sam says. It turns out Bucky wasn’t wrong about the environmental impact of animal agriculture—that’s actually some deeply sobering shit, and Sam feels like he should probably try to be a good role model now that he’s Captain America. “Seriously, though, I did fuck up that mission, right? I wasn’t imagining that?”

Bucky sighs. “Sam, you made the right call. Maybe Fury wouldn’t have agreed immediately, but I didn’t spend my entire life justifying Steve’s aggressive self-sacrificing bullshit to people in positions of authority for no reason. Steve knew when to step up and do what was right, sure, but he also knew when to shut up and let me do the talking afterward.”

Everything about Steve’s career in the Army makes so much more sense now.

“Thanks, man,” Sam says, awkwardly. He hesitates a moment, then asks, “You really think Steve would have made the same decision today?”

Bucky gives Sam a long, considering look. His gaze is solemn and sympathetic, and his lips press together in a sad smile. “Sam, you’ve got to stop comparing yourself to Steve.”

***

Sam misses a lot about Steve, but he very specifically does not miss running with Steve. That’s because Steve is an asshole, and while Sam may enjoy the view from behind when Steve laps him for the fiftieth time, he definitely does not feel like Steve deserves to act as smug about it as he does when Steve is quite famously the recipient of performance enhancing drugs.

Sam and Bucky are running their usual route in Prospect Park, feet pounding together in rhythm as they listen to the dope ass Carly Rae Jepsen playlist Bucky made for them on their headphones. It turns out that Sam’s been putting up with a lot of shit from Steve that wasn’t actually necessary, because despite being a full year older than Steve—or is it four years younger, now, after the Snap?—Bucky has managed to develop some pretty cool taste in music. More importantly, Bucky seems mercifully content to run at a speed that is completely normal for unenhanced people who are still in fantastic shape and also have great legs.

Speaking of great legs, Sam’s having kind of a hard time handling the length of Bucky’s running shorts today. Bucky’s legs are long and strong, lightly muscled and flexing attractively as his steady stride eats up the pavement, and his thighs—

“So how come Steve won’t run like a regular person?” Sam asks, reluctantly dragging his gaze away from those lean, golden thighs.

“Did he try to give you some shit about how he has to run that fast to stay in shape as a supersoldier?” scoffs Bucky. “No, Steve runs that fast because Steve has anger issues and a high sex drive. Otherwise he’d be starting fights and jerking off four times a day.”

Sam’s breath catches a bit in his chest and he tries very hard not to stumble at that. “Oh?” Sam asks, trying to sound casual. “And you? You’re not jerking off four times a day?”

“Living with you, sweetheart?” Bucky says with a wink. “Of course I am.”

***

This isn’t actually Sam’s first time living with a Russian assassin, because he spent two years on the run with Natasha, so he’s used to a lot of weird ass habits. But one thing that confounds the shit out of him is why Bucky insists on navigating Brooklyn solely through a maze of gross alleyways that smell absolutely foul.

Steve and Natasha are finally home from their peacekeeping or worldbuilding or diplomatic journey through the stars—whatever the hell they’ve been doing for the past few months—and Sam and Bucky are on their way to meet them at a café for lunch.

“Man, are you sure we’re not going in circles? I could swear we’ve passed that blue dumpster at least twice already. Is this some kind of spy thing where we’re doubling back to lose a tail or something?” Sam asks.

“No. And this blue dumpster is the blue dumpster behind the hipster café with the oat milk latte that you hate, the one with too much cinnamon,” Bucky explains patiently. “The other two blue dumpsters are behind the artisanal pickle shop and the thrift store where the secondhand clothes actually cost more than they do when you buy them new.”

“Right,” Sam says with a heavy sigh. Then he perks up when he sees their favorite stray cat. “Oh, hey, it’s Steve the cat!”

“Aw! Hi, Steve!” Bucky coos. He reaches into his pocket to toss a few treats toward the skinny, ill-tempered cat, who eyes them suspiciously before hissing viciously, his scraggly hackles raising. Steve the cat ignores their treats, presumably offended by their insulting attempts at charity, and Sam and Bucky positively melt at this pointless and self-destructive display of spitefulness.

“He’s so cute!” Bucky says.

“I love him so much,” Sam agrees. “C’mon, let’s leave the treats here and keep going. Maybe he’ll eat them after we leave.”

“We should stop at the pet store on the way home and pick up a different brand. Maybe Steve has allergies,” Bucky suggests.

“Good idea,” Sam says, nodding.

As they head toward their lunch with Steve and Natasha, Sam’s surprised to realize that he feels pretty relaxed and confident about their whole fake-best-friends plan. Usually he’d be having some kind of heart palpitations at the thought of trying to pull one over on Natasha, an actual spy who actually lied to the actual God of Lies and actually succeeded at it, but instead Sam thinks that he and Bucky might really get away with this whole fake-best-friends thing. It helps that Bucky looks so cool and self-assured walking beside him, hips loose and easy and confident as those long legs lead them toward their whole best friends debut.

Eventually they weave their way out of Bucky’s trash labyrinth and make it to the café, where Steve and Natasha are waiting at a table along the sidewalk. Steve and Nat look happy, laughing and chatting animatedly, their body language intimate and relaxed. Sam feels a brief moment of apprehension, but Steve smiles broadly when he sees Sam and Bucky approach, and Steve and Nat both stand to offer hugs and kisses in greeting.

“We’re so glad to be home,” Natasha says, sitting back down with a sigh. “Do you know that after spending the past few months trying to navigate alien bureaucracy, I’ve actually missed filling out post-mission paperwork at SHIELD? Do not repeat that to Fury.”

“Fury’s already trying to convince Natasha to train as his replacement when he retires,” Steve brags, putting his arm around Natasha’s shoulders. The flash of envy Sam feels at Steve’s obvious pride in Natasha is swiftly overwhelmed by Sam’s genuine happiness for her. He can’t think of anyone he’d trust more than Natasha to be the next Director of SHIELD. Probably she wouldn’t let in any secret Nazis or mad scientist artificial intelligences at all.

“That’s great, Natalia,” Bucky says warmly. “How soon can you start? I already hate working for Fury.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure Fury has like three decoy replacements lined up and at least another decade of weird mind games in him before he’ll seriously consider retirement,” Natasha says, nodding her head approvingly. “And to be fair to Fury, he’s probably still pretty pissed about that time you nearly killed him.”

“Actually, Fury really likes Bucky,” says Sam defensively. “Just last week Fury even thanked him for giving him the chance to fake his own death—said he’d been looking for just the right opportunity for years.”

Bucky smirks and nudges his knee against Sam’s underneath the table. Sam deliberately doesn’t move his leg away, warmth spreading through him from the point of contact.

“I feel like I should be surprised that Bucky won Fury over that quickly, but honestly it makes sense. The nuns loved Bucky,” Steve says, rolling his eyes.

“Fury does have kind of a weird nun energy, doesn’t he,” Natasha says thoughtfully. “I’ve never really thought about it before but now I’m kind of obsessed with the idea.”

When they’ve finished ordering—bacon cheeseburgers for Steve and Natasha, falafel salads for Sam and Bucky—Natasha asks them how they’re enjoying their new vegan lifestyle.

“Have you been eating a lot of aquafaba?” Natasha asks, too innocent by half.

A surge of triumph wells up in Sam’s chest. He knows that Natasha is testing them, and he knows that they’re going to pass this test.

“Aquafaba’s actually more of a baking thing, sort of an egg white replacement,” Sam explains, biting his lip to resist shooting Bucky a smug grin. “And Bucky doesn’t eat anything with added sugar, so we don’t do a whole lot of baking.”

“And since when is Bucky such a healthy eater?” Steve asks incredulously.

“Some of us got hasty Nazi knockoff serums, Steve,” Bucky replies. “I’m like a hundred years old. How do I know if I can just eat whatever I want and still have perfect blood pressure and cholesterol like you? Also, do you know how much we’ve learned about nutrition since you and I were in school? When was the last time you even got a physical, Steve? Natalia ought to be making sure you take better care of yourself. I make sure Sam exercises and eats a sensible diet.”

“I stay fit,” Sam agrees.

Bucky smirks and lets his eyes travel along Sam’s biceps and shoulders. “Yeah, you do, sweetheart.”

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to get a physical, OK? But my primary care physician was taken in the Snap,” Steve says defensively. “I didn’t have time to find a new one. I’ve been very busy.”

“I’m actually finding this all very interesting,” Natasha says, her chin propped on her hand and her voice low and amused. “Has Bucky always been this fussy and meddlesome?”

“Only when it comes to my best friend,” Bucky explains with great apparent sincerity.

Steve chokes on his soda, coughing and sputtering violently, and Sam looks up from his salad to grin and catch Bucky’s eye. Natasha gives Steve a few strong thumps on the back.

When Steve recovers from his coughing fit, he narrows his eyes in disbelief. “I’m sorry, your best friend? Is Sam your best friend? Because I thought Sam was more like your best friend’s best friend.”

“We’ve gotten really close since we moved in together,” Sam says earnestly, slinging a friendly arm around Bucky’s shoulders.

It’s not even a lie, really. They’ve got a pretty great routine going, and Bucky’s an easy roommate. They wake up every morning and drag themselves out of their shared bed, sleepy and warm, and head out for an early run, letting Bucky’s bomb ass running playlist and the exertion of their run build up the physical and emotional energy they need for the day. They take Bucky’s weird secret assassin route through the alleys to and from the subway every day, and when they come home in the evenings they catch up on all the movies and music and weird political news they’ve missed in the past five years. They smoke a joint together in bed every night before they go to sleep, and they laugh and swap stories and usually make fun of Steve. It’s all very comfortable and cozy. It’s actually, Sam is startled to realize, the closest thing to home he’s felt in the past two-slash-seven years.

“So you moved in together,” Steve says, his voice awkward and high pitched. “That’s—so great!”

“Speaking of moving in together,” Bucky says innocently. “Have you guys decided where you’re going to live? We can move the weapons out of the spare room at our place if you want to move in with us.”

“I’m sorry, the spare room? It’s only a two bedroom apartment, Bucky!”

***

Sam is happy to be back in the field with Steve and Natasha, but he can’t shake the slight uneasiness that comes from thinking he’ll be able to predict their actions, that he’ll be able follow the rhythm of their fight together, only for the two of them to do something totally different than what he expects at the worst possible moment. It turns out that five years was just long enough for Steve and Natasha to fall perfectly in sync with one another and out of sync with Sam.

It’s Sam and Bucky’s first official SHIELD mission with Steve and Natasha, and everything is going mostly fine except for the fact that instead of turning into nice, clean piles of dust like in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, these gross ass vampires are exploding like giant bags of blood every time you slay them. It’s super nasty and definitely unhygienic.

The vampires are feral, mostly mindless leech-like creatures that don’t seem to have a lot going on in their probably decaying brains. So on top of dying in a rather revolting sort of fashion, they’re not even sexy or sophisticated or even European the way pop culture has promised him. The whole experience is a real letdown, and it isn’t even really dangerous so much as it is messy and tedious.

“Last one!” Bucky calls out, firing his crossbow straight into the heart of a vampire standing in front of Steve. The vampire explodes in a disgusting spray of borrowed blood, drenching Steve from head to toe in its recycled bodily fluids. Sam stifles a laugh.

“God damn it, Bucky,” Steve complains, his face twisting in distaste. “Just for that I’m taking first shower on the Quinjet.”

Sam gives Bucky a discreet fist bump when they climb aboard, whispering, “Nice shot, man.” Bucky snickers.

Steve is always so funny when he gets all prim and fussy, like some kind of stuffy Victorian schoolmarm. It’s kind of adorable.

In order to fit a full decontamination chamber and shower into the Quinjet, there’s only one of them, so they have to take turns showering. Sam and Bucky have a sort of medium amount of blood on them, while Natasha has somehow managed to escape the whole gory ordeal without a single drop of blood—or even sweat? Literally how is she so pristine?—anywhere on her. Since they’re only in New Jersey, not too far from home, Natasha decides she can wait until they get back to SHIELD headquarters to shower.

“So what’s the deal with all the vampires?” Sam asks. “I thought you and Steve killed that Bloody Baron guy.”

“We did,” Natasha replies, frowning. “It must have been a nest he left behind. Usually new vampires are too stupid or underdeveloped to feed themselves—they’re sort of like human babies that way—but I guess after their vampire dad guy died they must have gotten hungry enough to try to find something to eat on their own. I would have thought that they’d have all starved to death by now, though.”

When Steve finally exits the shower a thousand years later, he shoots them a smug smile. “Good luck fighting over who goes next, guys,” Steve taunts, in an irritating, self-satisfied sort of way. “There’s probably not enough hot water left for both of you.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Bucky says casually. “Sam and I always shower together anyway. We can share. C’mon, Sam.”

Bucky grabs Sam’s wrist and tugs him along toward the shower, and Sam uses every ounce of energy he has left in his body to keep his facial muscles firmly under control, refusing to offer any kind of reaction whatsoever to that frankly shocking claim. What the fuck, Bucky? On the plus side, though, Sam has the pleasure of watching Steve’s eyes widen and his stupid smirk fade as horror slowly sets in.

Natasha’s face, of course, lights up in surprise and then sheer fucking delight at this unexpected turn of events, because Natasha loves drama.

“What,” Steve says weakly.

“Yeah, it’s no big,” Sam says, nonchalant as hell. “We’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Steve and Natasha whisper furiously at each other as Bucky pulls him out of the room.

When Bucky shuts the door to the decontamination chamber behind them, Sam falls back against it, running an open hand down his face and groaning. “Bucky, man, what are you doing?”

“What?” Bucky asks, eyes wide and guileless. He’s unbuckling the chest fasteners on his uniform, and Sam decides to take a moment to indulge his purely intellectual curiosity about how exactly Bucky straps himself into all that tactical fetish gear.

“Steve and I always used to take baths together,” Bucky says. “Do you know how long it took to heat up buckets full of water on the stove just to take one bath? And by the time one person was finished, the bath water would be dirty and cold! And Stevie was so little, it was just easier to bathe together so we’d both stay warm, especially in the winter—”

While Bucky prattles on about Depression-era plumbing, filthy shared tenement showers, cold water apartments, the potential dangers of cold baths for people with weak lungs, and how extremely normal it is for best friends to shower together, Sam watches Bucky methodically strip down to bare, sweaty skin.

“Do you need help, sweetheart?” Bucky asks, amusement in his voice.

“What,” Sam says absently. His eyes are intently following the path of a bead of sweat that’s sliding slowly down the hills and valleys of Bucky’s well-defined abs.

“You’re still dressed.”

“Oh! Right. Yes. I mean no! I don’t need help.”

As Bucky turns on the water and adjusts the temperature, Sam undresses hurriedly, tossing his bloody uniform into the laundry container marked “BIOHAZARD” and stepping into the shower with Bucky.

“Now, Sam, I just want to say: it’s OK if you get hard,” Bucky says sincerely, clearly trying but then utterly failing to hold back a grin. He looks directly into Sam’s eyes and claps him on the shoulder. “You know, Steve and I always—”

“Don’t say it,” Sam interrupts. “Do not say it or I will kill you, I swear to God.” Literally the last thing Sam needs, as he desperately tries to redirect the flow of blood running to his cock, is to think about Steve and Bucky showering together with erections. Jesus Christ. Sam is not made of fucking stone.

“I’m just saying, it’s perfectly normal—”

“I will kill you, Barnes,” Sam warns.

“It’s the beauty of nature!” Bucky proclaims with a shit-eating grin, then easily dodges Sam’s half-hearted blow to the face. “And if it makes you feel better, I will be making literally no effort to avoid ogling you, so.”

Sam rolls his eyes and suppresses a smile. “Whatever, man. Help me wash my back.”

***

After they shower together on the Quinjet, Bucky apparently decides that there’s no reason for them to stop showering together now that they’ve started. So every morning when they finish their run, Bucky follows Sam into the bathroom, stripping off his sweaty clothes and just stepping right into the shower, waiting for Sam to join him. And at this point it feels like maybe it would be weird if Sam said something, like maybe he should have said something the first time Bucky decided they were the kind of friends who took showers together, but quite frankly the first time Sam was so distracted by the shift and pull of Bucky’s muscles as he tugged off his shirt that Sam didn’t think to protest.

So now they shower together every morning, and they share the same body wash and shampoo too, because Bucky says that they already smell just like each other from spending so much time together that it doesn’t really make sense for them to use different products. Plus, Bucky explains, with two full grown men in the shower at the same time, there’s just not enough room to clutter up the space with a bunch of different bottles.

Sam is pretty sure that Bucky just likes it that Sam smells like him, though. Bucky’s weirdly possessive that way, and it turns out that maybe Steve is too, because every time Sam gets up close in Steve’s space during training, Steve’s nostrils flare, the briefest look of jealousy crossing his face.

So, on the plus side, their plan is definitely working.

On the down side, however, Sam has exactly zero opportunities to jerk off now, and he’s about to spontaneously fucking combust out of what is probably fatal sexual tension. Because every morning, Sam wakes up to a soft, sleepy Bucky pressed against his back, hips grinding gently against Sam’s ass. And every morning, Sam watches Bucky get sweaty and breathless on their run, thin t-shirt growing slowly more transparent, clinging to those perfectly sculpted pectoral muscles. And then, after all that, Sam has to actually get naked and shower with the guy, who is not at all shy about the way his erection springs up out of his running shorts as he pulls them down his hips.

And all of this—this whole fucking blue balls-inducing, brain-melting, sexually frustrating journey into madness—happens before Sam can even get a goddamn cup of coffee. It is eight in the fucking morning and Sam is about to die from his boner.

“Hey, Sam?” Bucky asks, giving himself a critical look in the bathroom mirror. “Can you cut my hair?”

“Do I look like a barber,” Sam replies flatly.

“No, but I feel like if we’re going to your mom’s today, I should probably look sharp, right? And I just don’t feel like the long hair goes with a suit.” Bucky frowns. “There are probably plenty of videos about hair cutting on Youtube, right? I’ll bet you could figure it out.”

Sam does not remember inviting Bucky to his mom’s house with him today, and he has no idea why Bucky is planning on wearing a suit, but he does remember how Bucky Barnes had looked in those old photos, with that classic haircut highlighting his sharp cheekbones and that perfect fucking jawline. He’d looked like an old movie actor, like Cary Grant or Gregory Peck, and Sam has always had a weakness for handsome men who look like they could take you to church and then take you straight to bed so you’ll have something to confess about next week.

“Yeah, all right,” Sam agrees.

It turns out there are actually a bunch of tutorials on how to cut hair on Youtube—apparently there was a whole thing that happened in 2020 where everyone had to cut their own hair for a while?—and after two or three videos Sam feels reasonably prepared for this potential disaster.

He sits Bucky down on a chair in the kitchen, because Bucky’s hair is thick and long, and Sam wants to make sure he can sweep everything up nice and easy when they’re done. When Sam runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair to start trimming the length, Bucky groans softly, his eyelids fluttering closed.

“Forgot how much I like having my hair touched,” Bucky murmurs.

“Oh, yeah?” Sam says, biting his lip. He wonders if Bucky also likes to have his hair pulled, and for a moment he regrets ever letting Bucky talk him into this hair cut, because he thinks he’d like to see Bucky’s long hair twisted around his fist as he guides Bucky’s mouth down onto his cock.

“I never had a professional haircut before the Army,” Bucky confesses. “My mom always cut it for me when I was a kid, and then when I moved in with Steve we’d do it for each other. We always needed money back then, couldn’t afford a barber.”

“Hold still for a moment,” Sam says, touching Bucky’s jaw and gently guiding his head into the right position. He runs the clippers over the back of Bucky’s neck, fingers pressing lightly against Bucky’s temples to move him where he needs him. Heat blooms deep in Sam’s belly at the way Bucky shivers under his touch. When Sam finishes trimming the sides and back of Bucky’s head, he leans down to softly blow the excess hair off the nape of Bucky’s neck. Bucky moans quietly, biting his lip and arching his back almost imperceptibly. Pretty little goosebumps rise on the back of his neck.

“Take a look,” Sam says quietly, handing Bucky a mirror.

Bucky turns his head left and right, preening a bit as he admires the tidy cut Sam gave him. He looks gorgeous, hair neatly trimmed in a way that draws focus to that devastating bone structure.

“Not too bad for your first try, sweetheart,” Bucky says, grinning. “Think your mom will like it?”

“Oh, I think she will.”

***

When Sam’s mom opens her door to see that Sam has brought a friend to visit, she looks delighted at this unexpected turn of events.

“Sam, baby! It’s so good to see you! Come in, come in!” she exclaims, pulling Sam in for a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek before leading them into the living room. “And who is this handsome young man?”

“This is Bucky,” Sam replies, shooting his mom a warning glare. Do not embarrass me, he communicates silently. She widens her eyes in response, giving Sam an overly innocent look and covering her heart a touch dramatically with her hands. Moi? her body language says. Sam is not fooled. “Bucky is my co-worker. And my roommate. And my friend.”

“Hello, Mrs. Wilson,” Bucky says, smiling like a goddamn choir boy. “It’s so nice to meet you. I hope you don’t mind that Sam invited me along today.”

Sam most definitely did not invite Bucky along today, but he feels like it would be rude to point that out in front of his mom, who looks very impressed by Bucky’s whole general existence. She looks even more impressed when Bucky presents her with the vase of lilacs he insisted upon buying along the way.

“These are lovely, Bucky! I’m always happy to meet one of Sam’s co-workers slash roommates slash friends,” she says teasingly. “And don’t you look nice! Sam, doesn’t he look nice?”

“You didn’t have to wear a suit to meet my mom,” Sam says with a sigh, rolling his eyes.

They already had this whole argument before they left, but Bucky was adamant about wearing the suit, and honestly Sam didn’t work that hard to try to talk him out of it. Sam didn’t even know that Bucky owned a suit, let alone one that was so perfectly tailored to those shoulders and those slim hips and those long legs. Once Bucky actually put on the suit, Sam suddenly felt like all of his objections were a bit trivial and unnecessary. So now, like an idiot, Sam is also dressed up, wearing a button-down shirt and a navy blue blazer to visit his own mother.

“It’s a Sunday, Sam,” Bucky says reprovingly, in a tone that suggests that the day of the week is somehow relevant to his sartorial choices. Sam’s mom nods approvingly at this, so maybe it’s some kind of weird older generation thing that Sam is too young to understand.

Sam feels a bit ill at the unwelcome realization that Bucky is technically older than Sam’s mother.

Sam’s mom serves them tea and cookies while they catch up, and Bucky is unfailingly polite, charming in a sincere sort of way that Sam should have expected from all of Steve’s stories about growing up together in the neighborhood. It occurs to Sam that Bucky probably developed this skill as a self-defense mechanism against the inevitable havoc that Steve wreaked in their lives, using it to keep the two of them out of trouble with mothers and teachers and, eventually, commanding officers.

When the subject of Captain America comes up, Sam’s mother frowns disapprovingly and says, “I just don’t know why that boy asked you to take on this kind of burden. Is he even retired? Why couldn’t he be Captain America?”

Sam’s mother always refers to Steve as that boy.

“That’s what I said!” Bucky exclaims. “I was furious when Steve said he wanted to pass the shield on to Sam. Why did Sam need to be Captain America? Sam was already a superhero. I mean, he was the Falcon! He could actually fly. How cool is that? Steve could never fly—Steve just fell, usually without a parachute. Being Captain America just meant doing the same thing Sam was already doing, but with an unfamiliar weapon and a lot more attention from bad guys. It seemed so risky and unnecessary.”

Sam is a little stunned at this revelation. He thought the reason Bucky was mad at Steve about the whole Captain America thing was because Steve hadn’t chosen him to be Captain America, not because Bucky was worried about Sam.

Sam’s heart thumps a bit in his chest, warmth flowing through his veins to thaw out a part of him that he hadn’t even realized had been just a tiny bit frozen, an icy chunk he’s been carrying around inside of him ever since he’d accepted Steve’s offer to be the new Captain America. Bucky looks soft and sincere, and Sam didn’t know how much he needed to hear that someone believed in him just as he was—that there was someone who didn’t just think that he’d make a good Captain America but that he was already a pretty great superhero all on his own.

Sam’s mom nods enthusiastically. “Exactly,” she says, then turns to Sam. “I like this one, Sam. He seems so much more sensible than that other boy. That one was always getting you into trouble.”

Bucky chuckles. “Oh, Steve is good at getting people into trouble. But the thing about Steve is that Steve attracts people who are just like him, people who are good and brave and ready to stand up for what’s right no matter what the cost. Sam was fighting for what he believed in long before Steve ever came along. You raised a good man, Mrs. Wilson,” Bucky says, smiling softly at Sam.

And Sam’s heart breaks a little in his chest at this, because he doesn’t think that Bucky realizes that Bucky is the very first person Steve attracted who shared his innate goodness and integrity, because Bucky doesn’t think he’s a hero like Steve and Sam.

Sam’s mom is clearly pleased by Bucky’s compliment, and she looks proudly over at Sam. “Sam is the best man I know,” she says, her voice strong, full of conviction. “I’m glad he has a partner who understands that his heart is just as valuable as his training.”

“Sam’s heart is exactly why Steve chose him as Captain America,” Bucky says. And then he tells her stories about Sam’s new job, stories that are carefully edited to minimize the danger they had faced and to maximize Sam’s capability and competence in dispatching various minor villains. He tells her about all of the countries they’ve traveled to, all the little boys and girls who’ve looked at Sam with stars in their eyes. Bucky makes sure to include Steve in these stories too, subtly but effectively touting Steve’s unflagging loyalty and care and dependability.

Sam remembers Steve telling him that Bucky was the first to shout “Let’s hear it for Captain America!” when they returned from Kreischberg, successfully distracting Colonel Phillips from any disciplinary action he might have been contemplating against Steve for going MIA. It’s hard to throw the book at someone who’s actively being celebrated by hundreds of grateful, cheering soldiers.

Bucky, Sam is beginning to realize, is the greatest hype man Sam has ever seen.

“Thank you so much for a lovely afternoon, Mrs. Wilson,” Bucky says with a kind smile. “It was really nice to meet you.”

“Come back next weekend!” Sam’s mom replies enthusiastically, giving Bucky a warm hug. “You can meet Sam’s sister Sarah and his niece Michelle. They’ll be sorry they missed you this week. Sam, dear, come give your mother a hug.”

When Sam pulls his mother in for a hug, she whispers, “I’m so proud of you” in his ear. Sam flushes a bit, feeling awkward and self-conscious.

“Thanks, Mom,” he says.

***

That night when they’re lying in bed, passing a joint back and forth, Sam makes a long overdue confession.

“I was mad at you, you know,” Sam says apologetically. “When you ran away. And when you didn’t come back after Peggy died. I thought you weren’t being a good friend to Steve. I don’t think—I don’t think I was being very fair to you. And I’m sorry.”

The thing is, Steve had told Sam a lot of stories about Bucky, about how charming and funny Bucky was, what a good friend he was, what a good sergeant he was. In Steve’s stories, Bucky was a giant, a larger-than-life sort of figure, a man who never gave up and never let anyone down.

And maybe Sam bought into all of that mythologizing, because when Bucky didn’t come back to Steve, Sam felt betrayed on Steve’s behalf. And he realizes now, with a sharp pang of regret, that this reaction was deeply unfair to Bucky, based on the legend of Bucky Barnes rather than the man. Because Bucky was supposed to be the loyal Howling Commando from Steve’s stories, Captain America’s Sergeant and Steve Rogers’s Best Friend, the hero who always rescued Steve when he needed it, even when Steve didn’t think he needed rescuing.

And Steve had so desperately, desperately needed rescuing, especially after Peggy’s death. Sam would never forget the sight of Steve Rogers, Captain America, tired and small and so very fragile, dipping under the weight of Peggy’s coffin as he carried her down the aisle.

When Bucky turns to face Sam, there are lines of grief in the corners of his eyes. “I was sorry about Peggy,” Bucky says quietly. “She was my friend too.”

Sam reaches out to brush his thumb along Bucky’s cheekbone, cupping Bucky’s face in his hand. Bucky raises his hand to cover Sam’s, cool metal against Sam’s skin, and Bucky shivers a little under his touch.

“You’re a good friend, Bucky. I’m sorry I thought you weren’t.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Bucky says with a tired smile.

***

When Steve knocks on their open office door, he looks with surprise at the sign on the doorway. “Sam Wilson and James Barnes?” Steve reads aloud, looking concerned. “Sam, they didn’t give you your own office? I feel like Captain America should get his own office. Do you want me to talk to Fury? Because you shouldn’t have to share with Bucky.”

“Nah, it’s cool,” Sam says casually. “Fury gave us two offices, but we just figured it was easier to share since we’re always together anyway. Bucky’s office is our murder board room.”

Steve looks disconcerted by this. “OK,” he says, frowning. “Well, I just came by to let you know that Nat picked up another HYDRA facility on her radar, right near where we found those vampires in New Jersey. She sent you an e-mail with the details.”

Sam doesn’t know why Steve needs to stop by to tell him something that Natasha already sent him in an e-mail, but whatever. There’s something a little bit hesitant in Steve’s expression, a little bit lonely, and maybe Steve just came by because he wanted an excuse to see them.

“Thanks,” Sam says, with a warm smile. “C’mon, let’s go over to the spare office to tell Bucky to put it on our murder board. Make sure you tell him how great it looks, by the way. We spent like thirty minutes at Joann Fabrics picking out just the right shades of yarn to tie everything together. He actually has a whole color-coded system for it, with a key in an Excel spreadsheet and everything.”

While they walk down to go see the murder board, Steve tells Sam all about Bucky’s job as an actuary before the war. Apparently all those years doing informal risk assessment calculations to try to keep Steve from killing himself while they were growing up led to an actual career. “He was actually in college for mathematics when he dropped out to enlist.”

“I wonder if he put that on his resume when he applied for the job,” Sam says. “Actually now that I’m thinking about it I wonder how Bucky fit like 80 years of experience as an actuary, a commando, a brainwashed assassin, an international fugitive, and then a goat farmer on a one-page resume.”

“Wait, Fury actually made you two submit resumes?” Steve raises his eyebrows.

“Nah, just Bucky,” Sam replies, grinning. “I think Fury just wanted to give him a bit of a hard time after he shot him. Bucky actually wrote one up for him too. Wouldn’t let me see it, but if Natasha just so happens to find it anywhere on SHIELD’s servers at some point…”

“I’ll let you know,” Steve says, chuckling.

When they get to the spare office and see Bucky tacking up some new papers on the vampire murder board, Steve’s laughter catches abruptly in his throat. Bucky’s newly short hair is styled today in an appealing combination of his old, neatly parted look and a more modern fashion.

“Bucky?” Steve says breathlessly, his voice thick with emotion.

“Oh, hey, Steve,” Bucky replies awkwardly, raising his hand to his newly cut hair a bit self-consciously. “How does it look?”

“Great!” Steve says fervently, eyes shining. “You look—God, you look so great, Bucky.”

“Thanks,” Bucky says, biting his lip shyly. “Sam cut it for me. Had to look respectable if I was going to meet his mom.”

Steve looks unexpectedly stricken for a moment, but then recovers quickly. “Well, it looks great,” he says. “And you met Sam’s mom! That’s—great. That’s also great.”

“She loved him, of course,” Sam says, rolling his eyes. “He wore a suit. And he brought her flowers.”

“Bucky always did bring my mom a flower when he came to visit, even if he had to steal it from someone else,” Steve says wistfully. “That’s—that’s so great that he still does that.” Steve looks dreadfully, deeply jealous right now, although Sam honestly can’t tell if Steve is jealous of him, jealous of Bucky, or jealous of Sam’s mom. Probably a weird combination of all three.

“Well, it turns out Bucky is great with moms. Even put in a good word for your sorry ass while he was there,” Sam says cheerfully.

“Wow! Good! That’s—that’s so good,” Steve says, his voice a little weak now. “Wait, does your mom not like me? Actually never mind. We can talk about it later. I’ll just—I’ll just be going now. I can see that you two have a lot of work to do, so I’ll just—go.”

When Steve leaves, Bucky raises an eyebrow at Sam. “You think maybe the whole make-Steve-jealous plan is actually working?” Bucky says wryly, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a crooked smile.

Sam stifles a laugh. “Yeah, just a bit.”

***

Sam and Bucky are just getting out of the shower after their run on Saturday when they hear an unexpected knock on the front door.

“I’ll get it,” Sam says, pulling on a t-shirt and a hoodie. Bucky’s still standing in front of the closet, clad only in a gratifyingly small towel as he takes his time deciding what to wear today.

When Sam gets to the door and opens it, he’s surprised to find Steve and Natasha standing in front of him. Steve looks a bit sheepish, but Natasha appears utterly relaxed, at ease in the way that she always is no matter what’s going on or how weird Steve is.

“Surprise!” Steve says awkwardly. He raises his hands briefly like he might be attempting some sort of jazz hands or something, then clearly thinks better of it and sticks his hands in his pockets where they can’t get him into trouble. “We’re here to take you guys out!”

“Sam, sweetheart, where’s our blue sweater?” Bucky calls out from the bedroom.

“Sweetheart?” Steve repeats thinly.

“Our blue sweater?” Natasha repeats gleefully.

Bucky emerges from the bedroom, hands smoothing out a few wrinkles in the aforementioned sweater as he tugs it into place. “Never mind, I found it,” Bucky announces. “Hey, guys.”

“Well, hello, Bucky. So you two share clothes now,” Natasha observes, the corner of her mouth curving blithely upward. “Isn’t that interesting?”

What’s particularly interesting, Sam thinks, is that he is ninety-nine percent certain that he saw Steve wearing that same white t-shirt Natasha has tied neatly at her waist just the other day.

“Of course we share clothes. Why would Sam and I need separate clothes? We wear basically the same size, even if Sam’s shoulders are a bit nicer than mine,” Bucky says, winking at Sam.

“Your waist is trimmer, though. You’ve got that nice lean look going on, it’s really working for you.”

“OK!” Steve interrupts, sounding a bit frantic. He and Natasha trade a few weird, indecipherable looks back and forth and Natasha rolls her eyes. “So we were thinking we would take you guys out this morning, have some best friend time.” Steve says this last part with particular emphasis.

“Great, where are we going?” Bucky asks.

“Actually,” Steve says, “we were thinking about splitting up. Sam, how do you feel about going to a ball game with me?”

“Sure,” Sam says, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “What are Natasha and Bucky going to do?”

Natasha and Bucky have a brief conversation in Russian, gesturing back and forth a bit before Natasha flatly states, “Bucky and I are gonna go to yoga and then get mani pedis.”

“OK,” Sam says, raising an eyebrow in skepticism. Honestly he probably doesn’t want to know whatever it is they’re really planning to do, if only for the sake of plausible deniability. Sam wonders if he and Bucky should think about getting married at some point so they don’t ever have to testify against each other. He should bring it up later, probably not in front of Steve.

***

Steve and Sam are sitting in the sun, relaxing at a Mets game, and Sam has missed this so much. It’s spring, still a bit chilly, but the sun is out and the day’s warming up quickly. Steve looks happy and relaxed, golden hair shining in the sunlight and a little bit of pink on his cheeks and forehead that will fade away before they’re even home from the game tonight.

“So you and Bucky are getting along well,” Steve says, glancing at Sam out of the corner of his eyes.

Sam hums noncommittally, taking a sip of his water. He’d checked the app on his phone to see if any of the beers they had on tap were vegan, but unfortunately none of them were. Which is fine, really, because Bucky’s been nagging him to drink more water lately. In fact Bucky’ll probably ask Sam about it when he gets home, so now Sam will be able to tell Bucky yes, he had a bottle of water today, he’s staying hydrated.

“You don’t think Bucky’s a bit—much?” Steve asks uncertainly. “Some people used to think he was a bit overbearing.”

“Nah, he’s cool,” Sam says mildly, then hesitates. “But, well, he doesn’t have much use for privacy, does he? I mean, he’s always so—around. And so attractive! And sometimes a man needs some time to himself, for personal, intimate things. You know what I’m saying?”

“You’re dying of sexual frustration, aren’t you.” Steve smirks, with a knowing little glint in his eye.

“God, yes.”

“Old Bucky Barnacle. So that’s still his move, huh?” Steve says, his voice wry. “Well, good luck with that. If history repeats itself, I’m sure the situation will eventually come to a head one way or another.”

Sam doesn’t know what to do with that ominous remark, but since it’s such a nice day he decides to let it slide.

“Bucky did say something to me once, kind of struck me as odd. He said that you were his only friend growing up. Which—that’s not true, right? I mean, he’s so handsome and charming and—surprisingly sweet. I feel like a guy like that would have a lot of friends.”

Steve laughs ruefully. “You’d think so, right? But Bucky never really seemed to want other friends, and honestly a lot of people thought there was something a bit—funny, about him. And about me.”

“Funny like maybe you two were a little too close?”

Steve rubs the back of his neck, looking a little flustered. “Yeah, maybe,” he admits. “We were always together. God, Bucky used to get so jealous when I’d make other friends. But he loved me, wanted me to be happy. I think he was happiest when we were a part of the Howling Commandos. He just wanted me to be around people who valued me and appreciated me, I think.”

“He liked Peggy a lot,” Sam says mildly, carefully.

“He talked to you about Peggy?” Steve’s eyes widen slightly in surprise.

“We talk,” Sam says, careful to keep his tone guarded. Sam doesn’t know how much Steve and Bucky have really had a chance to connect after Bucky came back from Wakanda, doesn’t know how much Bucky is comfortable with Sam revealing. He gets the feeling that Steve and Bucky have been dancing around a lot of things for about eighty-five years now. “He likes Natasha too.”

“Does he,” Steve says, with a small, speculative smile.

***

They’re sitting on the sofa, catching up on Riverdale, and Sam can’t believe how much better the show has gotten since the Decimation forced them to write out Archie Andrews. They’ve just finished the episode where Betty Cooper reveals that the murdered Jason Blossom was actually just a clone of the real Jason Blossom—who apparently was in the witness protection program the whole time—when Bucky suddenly announces, “I think we should practice kissing.”

“Yes, absolutely, one hundred percent,” Sam agrees immediately, then pauses. “Wait, why?”

“Well, Steve and I used to practice kissing all the time, so it’s obviously a pretty normal best friend thing to do,” Bucky reasons, gazing earnestly at Sam with wide, too-innocent eyes. “I feel like it would be suspicious if Steve found out I haven’t kissed anyone in almost eighty years and my so-called best friend didn’t help me get back into practice.”

Then Bucky pulls his right arm across his chest, casually stretching the strong muscle in his shoulder, the thin material of his t-shirt straining over his firm bicep. And wow, Bucky really should have been a lawyer or a politician or something, because Sam always finds his arguments extremely convincing. He’s honestly the most persuasive guy Sam has ever met.

“Yeah, OK,” Sam says. “C’mere.”

Bucky leans toward him, hand coming up to touch Sam’s face gently. Bucky’s so close that Sam can feel Bucky’s soft breath against his mouth, and Sam leans forward to rest his forehead against Bucky’s.

“OK?” Bucky murmurs.

Sam hums in response, leaning forward to touch his lips softly to Bucky’s. Bucky’s hand trembles a little on Sam’s face, nerves or anticipation, but then Bucky’s grip tightens and he pulls Sam closer, opening his mouth to capture Sam’s lips between his.

The kiss starts out soft and sweet, tentative, and then slowly grows more passionate. Sam gasps when Bucky’s teeth pull gently at his bottom lip, tugging his mouth open so Bucky can slip his tongue inside. Sam moans and strokes his tongue against Bucky’s, heating burning through his veins as their tongues slide wetly against each other. Sam can feel Bucky’s heart beating right against his own, through their shirts and their skin and their sternums, a pounding, frantic rhythm that matches the pulse of blood traveling directly to Sam’s cock.

Sam tangles his fingers in Bucky’s hair, gripping the short strands in his fist and tugging gently, pulling Bucky’s head right where he needs him. Bucky pitches forward a bit, off-balance, bracing his hands on Sam’s thighs before climbing eagerly up onto Sam’s lap. Bucky is making sweet, urgent little sounds that send a shiver of want down Sam’s spine, and Sam has to pull back for a moment, take a minute to breathe and let his racing heart settle in his chest.

“Sam,” Bucky says, pupils dilated and dark. “Fuck, sweetheart.”

“Yeah,” Sam breathes, panting and fighting to keep his hips still, trying to keep from shifting them up against Bucky’s. “That was—.”

“Good?” Bucky asks, lips curving into a crooked, cocky grin.

“It was all right,” Sam replies casually, feigning nonchalance. “I think you still need more practice. C’mere.”

***

They practice kissing a lot after that, which is great, and also lucky, because when Bucky hisses “kiss me” to Sam in the middle of a HYDRA raid, Sam doesn’t even hesitate.

They’re sneaking into that New Jersey HYDRA facility Natasha found near the gross vampire lair, and Steve and Nat are breaking into one end of the facility while Sam and Bucky creep through the other. They’re trying to be quiet, don’t want to be caught before Steve and Natasha have a chance to get the data off HYDRA’s servers, so when a HYDRA goon stumbles into the hallway with them, Bucky hauls Sam right up against him and kisses him fiercely.

The HYDRA goon makes a noise of surprise and confusion, clearly baffled by the two heavily armed men making out in the middle of a research facility, but Sam’s having a hard time paying attention to him over the feel of Bucky’s lips, which are spit-slick and firm and insistent against Sam’s. When Bucky starts grinding his hips against him—wow, Bucky is really selling this—Sam lets out a low moan that Steve and Natasha will almost certainly hear over the comms.

“What’s going on here? You’re not supposed to be here!” the goon says.

Bucky releases Sam’s lower lip from between his teeth with a loud pop. “Huh? Oh, sorry, guess we got carried away,” Bucky says sheepishly.

“That’s OK, just—hey, wait! You’re the Winter Soldier!” the goon exclaims, apparently catching sight of Bucky’s metal arm.

Steve and Natasha burst into the hallway at that moment, and when the goon turns back around to face them Sam pulls his shield from its harness and throws it at the man, who falls to the floor like a sack of bricks. Sam catches the rebound.

“Oh, hey, guys,” Bucky says with a grin, casually reaching down to readjust the lines of his uniform from where Sam’s fists had wrinkled it during their makeout session. “You didn’t have to come help out. We had everything under control here.”

“Had everything under control here,” Steve repeats. “We saw you on the security cams necking right in front of a guard!”

“Well, sure, but the guy caught us red-handed sneaking down the corridors. Thank God Bucky’s such a quick thinker or that guard would have thought something was suspicious going on,” Sam says, shooting Bucky a grateful smile. Bucky grins back at him. “Using the old pretend-to-be-a-couple-making-out scam was a great call.”

“A great call?” Natasha says, raising her eyebrows. “You’re dressed as Captain America and the Winter Soldier and you’re right in the middle of their facility. In what way did you appear to be two passionate lovers out for an innocent stroll?”

“To be fair, that guard would have no idea if Captain America and the Winter Soldier had a more than professional relationship,” Bucky points out.

“And are you questioning Bucky’s professional judgment as a master of covert operations, Natasha?” Sam says reproachfully, shaking his head in disappointment. “Bucky was a ghost for over fifty years. I think the man knows how to keep from blowing a cover.”

Steve sighs heavily, rubbing his temples in frustration. “Look, let’s just do a quick sweep through the basement, OK? It’s the only place left that we haven’t checked out.”

When they make it down to the basement, Sam is surprised to find that the whole thing has a very distinct incel-with-a-sex-dungeon vibe to it. Which is not really an aesthetic that he thought HYDRA would be embracing, but he’s learned to roll with it when it comes to the weird shit that HYDRA gets up to. The room looks moldy and kind of wet, with a clammy cement wall that has an actual, albeit cheap-looking, coffin propped up against it, right next to some rusted metal chains that look like a serious tetanus hazard. There’s also a microwave and a pretty expensive gaming PC down here, screen turned on to one of those gryphons and gargoyles MMORPGs.

“Is someone living down here?” Bucky asks, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “Or, even worse, is someone living in that coffin?”

There’s only one way to find out. Steve walks over to the coffin and yanks it open, jumping back in horror when a man wearing a neck brace and plastic fangs pops out and cries, “Steve! I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist coming back for me and my vampire babies. And you’ve found my new dungeon!”

His creepy red eyes are on fire with ecstasy.

“Ew, it’s Todd,” Bucky says, making a sour face. “I thought you killed that guy.”

“Yeah, me too,” Steve says with a frown.

“My name isn’t Todd,” Todd says peevishly. “It’s Baron Blood. How would you like it if everyone called you Bucky instead of the Winter Soldier?”

“Everyone does call me Bucky.”

When Todd has the nerve to look judgmental at this, Sam narrows his eyes and snaps, “Bucky is a great nickname.”

“It’s very cute,” Natasha agrees.

“I gave it to him,” Steve says, nodding proudly.

“Did you,” Todd says, eyes widening in alarm. “I didn’t mean to imply that Bucky was a bad nickname! Not at all! In fact, I love it. I was just—pointing out that it might be a tad unprofessional to use someone’s regular name in this kind of formal confrontation between a superhero and his archnemesis. I mean, this is really more like a work meeting, so I think it’s best if we just stick to titles, right, Captain America?”

“You called him Steve, earlier,” Natasha says.

“Well, the relationship between a superhero and his archnemesis really is such an intimate connection,” Todd purrs.

“Gross,” Bucky says.

“Anyway,” Steve says loudly, “Sam is Captain America now, I’m just a regular SHIELD agent. And I’m actually kind of in between call signs right now, so you can just—just call me Steve, I guess.” Steve looks a bit queasy at this.

“Wonderful, Steve,” Todd says smugly, his smile sharp and unnerving underneath those plastic fangs. Then he turns to Sam, looking him critically up and down before disdainfully stating, “I certainly won’t be calling him Captain America, though.”

“Why not? That’s pretty rude, Todd. We’re having a work meeting.” Natasha’s tone is disapproving.

“Well, for one, I’m racist,” Todd explains. “But also there will only ever be one Captain America, and that’s Steve Rogers. This guy’s just the Falcon.”

He says it scornfully, and Sam honestly might have felt a little insulted, but instead he remembers what Bucky said to his mother, that the Falcon was cool, that he could fly, that Sam was a superhero before he ever met Steve Rogers. And so Sam stands tall, raises his head high, and does his fucking job because he is a hero and a professional.

“Whatever, Todd,” Sam says. “I’m going to have to arrest you now.”

Unfortunately, Todd chooses this moment to reveal that he has the ability to transform into a swarm of bats, each of them wearing a tiny neck brace and plastic fangs as they form a small cluster and fly right out of the room and presumably away into the night.

Sam sighs in frustration. “You’re out there somewhere, Blood Baron, and I’ll find you!” he calls out after Todd.

“No, you won’t!” Todd shouts from a distance.

Sam puts his hands on his hips and narrows his eyes. “Yes, I will.”

“Nope!”

Bucky looks around the room, sighing in disgust as he takes in the mess and chaos from dozens of vampire bats flying about, leaving bat fur and guano everywhere.

“Great, now we’re all going to have to get rabies shots,” Bucky complains.

 ***

Sam and Bucky’s whole fake-best-friends plan is working phenomenally well, because ever since that Saturday Steve and Natasha had showed up unexpectedly to take them out, they’ve been regularly scheduling what Steve insists upon calling “best friend dates.” So long as they’re all in the same city, every Saturday they get together in pairs or as a foursome so that no one ever feels left out and everybody gets some quality time with each other.

When Steve and Sam hang out, they usually go to a game or to the gym—not to do any serious training, just to spar, getting sweaty and screwing around trying out new moves on each other. The best part is that for whatever reason the other SHIELD agents seem super reluctant to work out at the same time as them, so Sam and Steve always have plenty of room to wrestle and grapple around on the mats, pinning and taunting each other until someone gets frustrated enough to really slam the other one around a bit.

Sam has no idea what Bucky and Natasha do on their mysterious outings—they claim they’re going to drag brunches or yoga or spin class, but Sam can only guess what kind of sketchy shit a pair of formerly Russian former assassins might get up to together. Thankfully they’re always careful to mastermind their operations in Russian, presumably so that Sam will never be forced to reveal anything incriminating about them if he’s questioned. Bucky takes care of him like that.

Sam’s dates with Natasha are always super weird and fun—they usually end up going to see some kind of crazy conceptual art exhibit or avant-garde foreign film, then get coffee afterward and pretend to be fancy art critics. Or they’ll wander around old flea markets and antique stores and look for insensitive gifts for Steve and Bucky.

Sam is pretty sure that Steve spends his dates with Bucky doing something really homoerotic and intense like drawing semi-nude portraits of Bucky in 1940s military uniforms.

Actually, if they’re not already doing that, Sam should suggest it. He could probably try to pass it off as “healing” or “cathartic” or something, and maybe Steve will even show him the drawings afterward now that Sam has so much experience critiquing art with Natasha.

Today Sam and Natasha had planned on going to an outdoor art fair for their best friend date, because it’s funny to buy Steve tacky cat art and then watch him fumble for an appropriately gracious response, but this morning dawned with the sound of thunder rumbling ominously in the distance. By noon it’s pouring rain, a thick wall of icy water erupting from angry gray clouds, and Natasha is soaking wet when Sam answers the door.

“Jesus, Nat!” Sam says, ushering her into the apartment. “Let me grab you a towel for your hair. Do you want a change of clothes?”

“Sure, but don’t worry about the towel,” Natasha says with a careless wave of her hand. She opens the duffel bag she’s brought with her to reveal a barber’s cape and a pair of shears. “You’re going to cut my hair!”

“Oh, I’m going to cut your hair,” Sam grumbles, rolling his eyes. “Why does everyone seem to think I’m a barber?”

Sam leads Natasha into the kitchen and pulls out a chair for her before heading into the bedroom to try to find a pair of sweats that might fit. Natasha’s tiny, petite even when she wears heels, and it’s easy to forget that about her when she always stands so tall and confident. Sam wonders sometimes if that’s how Steve looked before he got the serum, all tiny and full of courage and swagger. Sam definitely does not think about how he and Bucky might have a type, and instead he grabs a t-shirt and the smallest pair of joggers they own, the ones that pull nice and tight over Bucky’s thighs and ass, before heading back into the kitchen.

Instead of waiting in the chair, Natasha’s standing in the nude, unselfconscious, wringing her clothes out over the sink. Her skin is pale and damp, glistening even in the dim, stormy light of the kitchen. Sam swallows and allows his eyes to trace the path of a drop of water sliding down the side of her neck only until it hits her collarbone, then looks away.

Sam clears his throat and tosses her the bundle of clothes. “Here, put these on,” he says, keeping his gaze averted while he grabs her wet clothes out of the sink. “I’ll put yours in the dryer.”

“Leave the bra out! If you put it in the dryer you’ll ruin it!” Natasha calls after him.

Sam rolls his eyes. “I have a sister, you know!”

Sam hangs Natasha’s bra up above the dryer, and damn, he can see why she doesn’t want him to ruin it. It’s gorgeous, black and lacy and expensive-looking—sexier than the three no-nonsense cotton bras that Natasha rotated between during those two years on the run. Sam smiles as he fingers the lace along the band, a gentle wave of happiness cresting over him at the thought of Natasha finally allowing herself to wear something beautiful.

When Sam returns to the kitchen, Natasha’s dressed, cozy and comfortable in Sam’s favorite t-shirt, joggers rolled up around her waist in an attempt to keep them from hanging onto the floor. Sam tries very hard not to feel any sort of way about how Natasha looks in Sam and Bucky’s clothing.

“So what am I doing here?” Sam asks. He flicks on the light and wraps the barber’s cape around Natasha, snapping it carefully at the back of her neck. Natasha’s hair is already damp, and Sam combs it straight, parting it just above her left eyebrow the way she likes. He’s lost track of the number of times he’s watched her straighten and style her hair this way over the years. “Do you want to keep any of the blonde?”

Natasha shrugs. “Nope, just lop it all off.”

“You’re lucky Bucky’s hair was long enough that I had to watch a bunch of videos on how to cut women’s hair too,” Sam says. He uses the comb to pull her hair taut and then trims off the bleached ends. “Actually, you’re lucky you’re beautiful enough that you can pull off an at-home hair cut from a dude with exactly one professional reference.”

Natasha rolls her eyes and reaches back to pinch Sam’s leg in response.

“Careful!” Sam warns, jerking back to dodge her unnecessarily strong fingers. “If I slip with these scissors, you’re gonna end up with the same haircut I gave Bucky. Do you want to be matching Russian murder twins? Steve and I won’t even be able to tell you two apart anymore.”

Natasha gives him a sly look from beneath her lashes. “Are you saying you and Steve would mind if Bucky and I switched places on you once in a while?”

Sam bites the inside of his cheek and ignores the massive trap Natasha has laid for him, all giant wooden spikes sticking out of a hole in the ground that Natasha’s barely even bothered to camouflage with leaves.

“You and Steve are nasty,” Sam says. “Don’t get me and Bucky involved in your business.”

“Sam,” Natasha teases in a sing-song voice.

Sam ignores her and focuses on trimming her hair, watching the blonde strands drift down to the tile floor. The kitchen is silent around them, quiet enough that Sam can hear the hum of the refrigerator over the soft sounds of the rain pitter-pattering outside, finally beginning to slow.

“Sam, ” Natasha says.

“I’m almost done,” Sam interrupts. He trims one last stray hair that’s escaped from the rest. “You like it just below your shoulders here? If you part it in the middle you’ll look just like you did when I met you.”

“Sam—”

“Here, take a look,” Sam says, handing over the mirror.

He unsnaps Natasha’s cape and busies himself with cleaning up, bringing Natasha’s scissors over to the sink to wash them. Sam soaps up the scissors and watches the storm move off into the distance through the kitchen window. There’s a ray of sunshine peeking through the clouds off to the west, just beginning to hint at the promise of a pretty day ahead.

When he’s done cleaning the scissors, he turns back to face Natasha and catches her smiling at herself in the mirror. “Sam!” she says, her eyes bright and sparkling. “I do look just like I did when you met me.”

“Yeah, Nat, you do,” Sam says with a fond smile, tugging on a lock of Natasha’s hair. “You look just like yourself again.”

The corner of Natasha’s lips tugs up in a wicked grin. “You think I’ve still got what it takes to bring down an entire secret government agency?”

“Nat, you don’t need to bring down an entire secret government agency. You’re gonna run one someday.”

***

The next Saturday Sam and Bucky are making their way through the alleys of Brooklyn on their way to lunch with Steve and Nat, and Sam can’t honestly say that the smell of dumpsters is really doing a lot for his appetite. He’s hopeful that they might run into Steve the cat, but otherwise it would really be nice to just go the regular way for once.

“Man, I don’t think we’re being followed,” Sam says. “Do we really have to go through the whole trash maze today? Can’t we just walk on the streets like regular people?”

Bucky looks concerned. “Wait, what do you mean being followed? Do you think we’re being followed?” Bucky’s spine stiffens and he looks alert, eyes darting back and forth to check the alley entrances for suspicious characters.

“No? But isn’t that why we walk through all these alleys every time we go somewhere?”

Bucky looks shifty for a moment, then embarrassed. “No? It’s really more like—OK, so the truth is—I don’t actually know my way around Brooklyn through the streets,” he mumbles.

“I’m sorry, you just said what now,” Sam says flatly. “Bucky, you grew up here.”

“I know, OK?” Bucky lifts his arm to scratch the back of his neck self-consciously. “But do you know how many fights Steve got into in these alleys? We didn’t have cell phones back then, Sam! The only way to make sure Steve was safe was just to take the alleys everywhere and hope I’d run across him before he got himself killed.”

“Oh my God, you really are the world’s best best friend,” Sam marvels. “No wonder Steve wouldn’t shut up about you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes and trying to hide a pleased grin. “All right, sweetheart, show me how to get there the fancy way. Lead on.”

So Sam leads Bucky out of his weird little warren full of dumpsters and feral cats and into the sunny streets of Brooklyn. Their shoulders and hands bump a bit as they walk along, and Sam’s heart beats a little faster when Bucky briefly tangles their pinky fingers together and gives him a little squeeze.

When they get to the restaurant they find Steve and Nat sitting close together, grinning and laughing and looking fondly at one another, and Sam is surprised to find that he doesn’t feel even the slightest burn of envy at their casual display of intimacy. Instead his heart swells with affection for them, his best friends, and Sam feels thankful that whatever trauma and heartache they’ve suffered over the last five years, at least they’ve finally learned how to express all those emotions they’d been keeping locked so tightly inside of them.

Steve and Nat seem lighter, happier, quicker to offer smiles and physical affection and verbal assurances of love. It’s kind of sweet really, Sam thinks.

Steve and Natasha look happy when they see Sam and Bucky arrive, standing up to give them big hugs and quick kisses on the cheek or the lips. The four of them chat for a while about what else Sam and Bucky have missed over the last five years—they’re still catching up, working their way now through the four legendary albums Taylor Swift released after her boyfriend was lost in the Decimation. She dropped all four albums at the same time, received massive public and critical acclaim, then disappeared for the next four years. Sam is profoundly unsurprised by the revelation that he and Bucky share an appreciation for hot, artistic blonds.

When the subject turns to work and thus to Todd, Sam groans. “So what’s the deal with that guy anyway? I thought you literally beheaded him.”

“I did,” Steve says with a grimace. “But he had that whole neck brace situation going on? So I guess he’s using it to just sort of—hold everything together.” Steve looks a little nauseated at the idea.

“Todd is so gross,” Bucky complains.

“You soaked the shield in holy water blessed by the pope, though, right?” Sam asks, frowning. “Todd’s Catholic, so it should have worked.”

“We did,” Natasha confirms. “Steve took a trip to Rome and went to a special mass and everything.”

Steve turns to Bucky, looking displeased. “Oh! Did you know that they do the mass with the priest facing you now? So now he can see if you’re goofing off in church. And they don’t do it in Latin anymore, so they expect you to actually listen too.”

“Remember when Father O’Connell caught us sneaking comic books into our hymnals and Ma wouldn’t let me see you for a month?” Bucky says, shaking his head and letting out a low whistle. “She always did think you were a bad influence.”

“I honestly thought you were going to die every single night when you snuck up that death trap of a fire escape to my bedroom in the pitch darkness.”

“Well, c’mon, like I was really going to go an entire month without seeing my best friend?” Bucky says, scoffing. “Plus that was like the same month we discovered masturbation so forgive me for being willing to risk death to come see you every night.”

Natasha snorts a little at that, and Sam makes sure to look directly in front of him at Steve so that he does not catch Natasha’s eye.

“Anyway,” Natasha says loudly, clearing her throat. “I think our mistake was in getting holy water blessed by the wrong pope.”

“The wrong pope?” Bucky lifts an eyebrow. “There’s only one pope, Natalia.”

“Not anymore!” Natasha says cheerfully. “After the Snap, there was a huge schism in the Catholic Church between the ‘faithful’ and a group of people who thought that what we actually experienced was the Rapture. There was this whole conspiracy theory that the old pope and a group of cardinals—who were all taken in the Decimation—deliberately suppressed information about the Rapture because it conflicted with Catholic teachings. So the remaining ‘faithful’ cardinals elected one pope, but then another group of cardinals broke off and elected a different pope.”

“What,” Sam says.

“Yup!” Natasha says, eyes alight with amusement. “So the schismatics moved their Holy See back to Avignon in France, but before they did, they—get this—collected the old pope’s ashes and put them on trial.”

“What,” Sam repeats, mouth dropping open in disbelief.

“It was the most batshit insane Medieval farce of a trial I have ever seen, and I grew up in the Soviet Union.” Natasha tips her head in reluctant approval at this lunacy. “So anyway, now there are two popes, and they’ve each ex-communicated the other.”

“So if Todd is a follower of the schismatic pope, then I guess we need to go get some holy water blessed by that guy instead?” Sam says.

“Natasha and I can go,” Steve offers.

Bucky narrows his eyes at this and bumps Sam’s knee under the table. “Nah, Sam and I can go. The last time I was in Avignon, I was in the infantry and it was being bombed by the Germans,” Bucky laments. He knows how guilty Steve feels about the horrors Bucky witnessed in the war before Steve rescued him from Kreischberg. “Plus Avignon is really beautiful this time of year.”

“It will be a healing trip,” Sam says earnestly.

***

One of Bucky’s many mysterious superpowers is that no matter where they are in the world, no matter what part of any city, no matter what language everybody is speaking and whether Bucky can speak it too, Bucky can disappear for fifteen minutes and magically return with the best weed Sam has ever smoked.

They’re at their hotel in Avignon, relaxing after a pretty tense dinner with Pope Stephen X—known apparently to “regular” Catholics as the Antipope of Avignon—and his loony band of schismatics. Sam has already expended the majority of today’s allotted emotional energy pretending that everything this guy did wasn’t deeply weird.

“Do you think he’s actually going to release a papal bull against Destiel?” Bucky asks. He sucks on the end of their joint, cheeks hollowing out attractively as he inhales, before he exhales and passes it back over to Sam.

They’re on the roof of the hotel, where they’re probably not technically allowed to be, but Sam used his wings to get them up here anyway and he’s sure they have some sort of diplomatic immunity or something, right? Probably. They have a gorgeous view of the Rhone, painted dark purple in the setting sun, and the Palais des Papes looks Gothic and romantic as hell surrounded by Medieval ramparts.

“I don’t know, man,” Sam says, shrugging. He feels warm and lazy. “I tried to tell him it’d be political or religious suicide or whatever if he did. Like 40% of the world’s Catholics live in Latin America and they’re all Destiel believers down there.”

They lapse into silence for a moment, and then Bucky says, “Hey, Sam? Do you ever think about submarines?”

“I mean, occasionally, I guess,” Sam says thoughtfully. “Why?”

“I dunno,” Bucky replies, leaning back and looking up at the sky. “It’s just so funny thinking about all the submarines floating out there, hiding from each other. Like, what a ridiculous thing we all decided to do. We just send people out for months at a time and tell them to find other submarines but not to let other submarines find them. And like every major superpower does this, and it costs billions of dollars.”

“That’s a good point, but also you’re high as fuck,” Sam replies, stifling a grin. “Where did you even get this weed?”

“French Mafia,” Bucky responds blithely.

Sam shakes his head in disbelief, wondering when that became a thing. He pours another glass of wine from the picnic basket they brought up with them and takes a sip. “This is a nice ass spread, by the way. You really know how to make a guy feel special.”

Bucky grins in response, and oh, Sam knows that grin.

“C’mere, baby,” Sam says. “Let’s make out.”

***

It takes a while for Natasha to track Todd to his new lair, but eventually she finds it in the Free State of Michigan. Like everything else about the world after the Snap, everything about that situation is confusing as hell too, because when Michigan seceded from the Union, the Upper and Lower Peninsulas actually split apart from each other. It wasn’t even because one peninsula wanted to leave and the other wanted to stay either—they both wanted to leave, but the Lower Peninsula refused to let the Upper Peninsula tag along with them, arguing that they didn’t contribute enough to their tax base.

So now the Lower Peninsula is an independent country known as the Free State of Michigan, while the Upper Peninsula is still a part of the United States of America and is known simply as Michigan. They fought a lot over which peninsula got to keep the name Michigan, and the Upper Peninsula only narrowly won that battle after Ohio got its trashy ass involved.

Finally, after the Battle of Toledo and the total shit show that was the Second Michigan-Ohio War, the United States government finally agreed to let the Free State of Michigan leave so long as they got to keep the Upper Peninsula and call it Michigan. So now the Lower Peninsula is a libertarian hellhole called the Free State of Michigan and Sam has to use his passport to get there.

“Do you even need a passport?” Bucky asks. They’re in the middle of fighting Todd, who’s not actually that good at fighting but is very good at exploding into a group of bats every time they try to land a punch. “You’re Captain America. I feel like this is a situation like the Queen of England, where she doesn’t need a passport because all passports are issued by her.”

“I don’t think that all American passports are issued by me,” Sam says doubtfully. He should probably check with Nick Fury or maybe the President about that, though.

Todd re-forms back into a person just to be a dick and tell Sam he’ll never be the real Captain America.

“You’re an asshole, Todd,” Sam informs him. Then, before Todd can become bats again, Sam slings his shield, already coated in holy water blessed by the Antipope of Avignon, directly at Todd’s neck, busting through his brace and re-severing his head.

 “Nice hit,” Bucky says, whistling in admiration.

Unfortunately, this doesn’t seem to do the trick, because Todd just stands up, gropes blindly for his head, and once he finds it, he poofs into a swarm of bats, each one cradling its little head in its right wing, flying off into the night at a distinctly wonky angle.

“Damn it, Todd!” Sam calls after him. “What the fuck do you even believe in, man?”

***

They don’t stay at a hotel in the Free State of Michigan because it’s a dystopian nightmare where every hotel room is a smoking room and Sam is genuinely concerned about being hunted for sport, so they take the Quinjet back to New York.

They get in late, showering perfunctorily and climbing into bed nude together, too tired to bother pulling on pajamas. When Sam wakes up in the morning, he can see that it’s really more like mid-afternoon, the sun streaming in through their curtains, filling the bedroom with soft, diffused light. Bucky is pressed up against his back, too hot and just a tiny bit sweaty, his hard cock nestled up against Sam’s ass.

When Sam shifts a bit against him, reluctantly considering the prospect of getting up and starting the day, Bucky makes a discontented little noise and wraps his arm around Sam’s chest to pull him back.

“No, come back here,” Bucky mumbles, voice rough with sleep. He throws his leg over Sam’s, trapping him into place, and drops a warm kiss onto the back of Sam’s neck. Sam shivers at the feel of Bucky’s lips against the sensitive skin at his nape, and Bucky’s hand wanders down Sam’s chest and along his flank as he subtly grinds his cock into Sam’s ass.

Sam lets out a low chuckle. “Oh, that’s what you want?” he asks with amusement.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Bucky breathes. “That’s what I want.”

Sam turns over to face him, capturing Bucky’s lips in a slow and dirty kiss. Bucky moans softly, and his hand slides down to blatantly grope Sam’s ass, fingers kneading into the hard muscle. Bucky’s cock is pressed against his, and Sam can’t resist grinding a bit against him.

When Sam pulls back from the kiss, he asks, “You sure about this? Sex changes things.”

“Sure I’m sure,” Bucky says, grinning. “I mean, it’s been awhile, but Steve and I always—”

“Do not tell me you and Steve used to fuck back in the day.” Sam groans, willing his brain not to indulge those mental images.

“Wait, did you and Steve not—”

“No!” Sam says defensively. “Steve and I were best friends, not boyfriends.”

“Sam, first of all, it’s totally normal to fuck your best friend, it’s called friends with benefits. I looked it up, and it’s a thing.” Bucky sounds placid, relaxed, his tone entirely too reasonable, his expression even and unbothered. “And second of all, you and I are only pretending to be best friends, so it’ll be even more fine for us.”

Bucky shifts his hips against Sam again, and Sam stifles a low moan. Sam is absolutely going to go along with this nonsense. God, all of his relationships with all of his friends have gotten so deeply weird ever since Steve came into his life. Steve’s boundary issues with Bucky are infecting the entire rest of the team.

“Yeah, OK,” Sam agrees, then gasps as Bucky leans down to lick and then gently bite Sam’s nipple. The sensation goes straight to Sam’s cock and he can’t resist thrusting his pelvis up against Bucky’s hard abs. “Fuck, baby.”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Bucky says, licking his way down Sam’s chest, mouthing and sucking at the skin on Sam’s lower belly and thighs, soft and gentle and careful, like maybe he doesn’t want to leave any bruises. Sam wonders if that’s a leftover habit from fucking Steve, if Bucky hadn’t wanted to leave marks on Steve’s pale, delicate skin, still so quick to bloom purple even now that his bruises fade in a matter of hours. As Sam pictures Bucky’s mouth on Steve, licking and sucking at him the same way that he’s torturing Sam now, heat spreads through his entire body, his skin on fire.

Bucky spends an excruciatingly long time just teasing and kissing around Sam’s cock before he finally, finally runs his tongue slowly up Sam’s hard length.

“Fuck,” Sam curses, fighting to keep his hips still. Bucky looks up at him from beneath those long lashes, and Sam feels a sharp tug in his lower belly at the sight of those gorgeous gray eyes. “Fuck, please.”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Bucky says soothingly.

He presses a soft kiss to the tip of Sam’s cock and then wraps his pretty lips around him and slides down, maintaining eye contact as he takes Sam deep into his mouth. Sam gasps at all that wet heat surrounding him, shocked by the fire racing down his spine as he feels Bucky swallow him down.

“Bucky,” Sam says helplessly, reaching down to put his hands in Bucky’s thick hair, soft and still messy from sleep.

Sam shifts restlessly, trying not to fuck Bucky’s mouth as Bucky leisurely drags his mouth up and down Sam’s cock, his pace maddeningly, frustratingly slow. When Bucky slides all the way down to the base of Sam’s cock, taking his entire length into his mouth, Sam’s hips jerk involuntarily and his fists clench in Bucky’s hair.

“Fuck, baby, I need—I need—”

Bucky pulls his mouth off Sam’s cock and Sam moans at the loss of that tight heat. Bucky’s eyes are knowing, his lips spit-slick and pink, so pretty and swollen.

“I know what you need, sweetheart,” Bucky says sympathetically, wickedly, his voice rough from Sam’s cock down his throat. “You gonna let me fuck you, Sam?”

“Yeah, God, yeah,” Sam says. Sam’s pulse leaps at the thought, and he takes a deep breath to try to force his racing heart to calm down, to steady his shaking hands.

Bucky kisses his way back up Sam’s chest, leaning over Sam to whisper in his ear, “So gorgeous, sweetheart. Gonna make you feel so good, Sam.”

Bucky reaches into the top drawer of the nightstand to pull out a condom and a bottle of lube. Sam starts to turn over, to bring himself up onto all fours, when Bucky stops him and says, “No, stay there, sweetheart. I wanna see you while I fuck you.”

Bucky grabs a pillow and slides it under Sam’s ass, pulling Sam’s knees up and spreading his legs apart so he can look at him. Sam trembles under Bucky’s gaze, his skin prickling as Bucky’s eyes roam greedily over Sam’s body.

“Fuck, Sam,” Bucky says reverently. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” Sam gasps, arching his back when he feels the slick press of Bucky’s finger at his hole.

He tries not to clench up, tries to relax his muscles as Bucky slides a finger smoothly inside him. Bucky is sweet and soothing, praising Sam as he works his finger in and out of him, telling Sam how beautiful he is, how good he feels, how much Bucky can’t wait to be inside of him. Sam’s poor, neglected cock is dripping precome onto his lower belly, and Sam reaches down to take himself in hand, giving his cock a gentle stroke.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” Bucky says, his eyes hot and admiring as they watch Sam’s fist moving over his cock.

Sam keeps at it, leisurely jerking himself off while Bucky works a second and then a third finger into him. Bucky’s eyes are dark and hungry, and Sam feels aroused and exposed and needy, desperate for more, ready for Bucky’s cock to fuck him open and fill him up. He’s panting and gasping, chanting, “Please, please, please” as Bucky’s fingers stretch and pull at his loosening rim.

“You want it?” Bucky says, ripping open the condom package, pulling out the condom and sliding it down the thick, flushed length of his cock.

“Please, yes, I need it,” Sam begs.

And Sam’s embarrassed by his eagerness, how desperate he is for it, but the humiliation only makes him more aroused, his cock hardening further under his hand. He’s always so quick to say yes to Bucky, so quick to be tempted even against his own common sense, and Jesus fuck is he grateful for that now because that is Bucky’s cock sliding into him, pushing past the tight ring of muscle at Sam’s entrance and filling him up.

Bucky grabs Sam’s legs and hitches them up around his waist, sliding another inch of his thick cock deep inside Sam, who’s gasping and panting beneath him. Sam’s knees tighten around Bucky’s sides, gripping him tight and using his leverage to pull Bucky deeper into him. Sweat begins to form at the small of Sam’s back and behind his knees, prickling at his overheated skin.

“Sam,” Bucky moans. “God, Sam, you feel so good, sweetheart.”

Bucky bends down to steal a wet, filthy kiss as he slides his cock deeper, pushing that last, final inch all the way into Sam. Bucky’s hips are flush against him, and Sam feels so connected to Bucky, with Bucky’s tongue sliding slickly into Sam’s mouth and Bucky’s cock thrusting deep into Sam’s ass, and Sam swears Bucky’s heart is beating in time with his, twin rhythms pounding faster and faster until Sam feels like they’ll both burst into flames.

“C’mon,” Sam urges. “I need it. Please, baby.”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes, leaning down to give Sam one last kiss before he braces himself on his arms and starts moving, slow and deep and dirty, into Sam. Sam’s head falls back as his back arches, and Bucky’s teeth nip gently at the exposed skin of Sam’s neck. Sam reaches down to grab Bucky’s ass, and Bucky inhales sharply when Sam pulls him, hard, so far inside him that Sam feels like he’ll choke on Bucky’s cock.

“Sam—Sam, you—”

“Yeah, baby, please—”

“God, Sam—”

Bucky fucks him so slowly, so sweetly, that Sam feels like he’s going to float off into space, lost in the feel of Bucky’s cock hitting that sensitive spot before dragging back out against his tender rim. Sam moans every time Bucky hits his prostate, feeling his balls begin to tighten and draw up against his body. Bucky’s pace slowly shifts from controlled and relentless to wild and irregular.

“Sam, Sam, look at me,” Bucky groans. Sam opens his eyes to find Bucky looking wrecked, his lips swollen, eyes dark and dazed, looking beautiful and so utterly focused on Sam. Their eyes meet and Bucky holds the contact, biting his lip and moaning. “Sam, Sam, I’m gonna—”

“Yeah, c’mon, do it—”

Bucky comes with a choked cry, shuddering and thrusting his hips erratically against Sam. His body shakes and shivers, breath coming in heavy gasps against Sam’s mouth.

Sam groans and focuses his attention back to stroking his cock, his hand moving faster and faster as Bucky pants and recovers above him. Sam’s almost there, so close, when Bucky leans down to kiss him, teeth biting gently at Sam’s bottom lip, and stars explode behind Sam’s eyes as he spills over his fist.

Bucky is slow to pull out of Sam, kissing him lazily before removing the condom and then collapsing on top of him. Sam wraps his arms around Bucky as they breathe and let their hearts settle, pressed tightly against one another.

“God, Sam,” Bucky says, voice muffled by Sam’s neck, sounding happy and exhausted and overwhelmed.

Sam lets Bucky rest on top of him for a while until he begins to feel suffocated by the weight of an entire supersoldier resting on him. He nudges Bucky to the side a little, and Bucky rolls onto his back, pulling Sam over to rest his head on Bucky’s shoulder.

Sam wonders if Bucky understands that “friends with benefits” usually don’t make love to each other the way that Bucky just made love to him.

“Good, sweetheart?” Bucky asks, pressing a kiss to the top of Sam’s head.

“Yeah.” The corner of Sam’s mouth turns up in a grin. “You did all right.”

“You were pretty good yourself,” Bucky says appreciatively. “Thought I was going to die when I got inside you. Christ, sweetheart.”

They lapse into blissful silence for a moment, and Bucky reaches over to grab Sam’s hand and pull it onto his chest. He plays with Sam’s fingers idly, intertwining their fingers and then pulling back to stroke his thumb over Sam’s palm. Bucky seems utterly relaxed and content, and Sam hates to break the comfortable silence but he just has to ask.

“So,” Sam says casually, “is that always how you fuck? All slow and romantic and full of eye contact?”

“Well, I mean, I’ve only ever had sex with Steve, so I guess so?” Bucky says, frowning. Sam is a little stunned at this revelation, eyebrows shooting upward in shock, because Bucky is one of the most attractive men Sam has ever met and Sam now knows for a fact that Bucky knows how to seduce someone if he wants it. “I guess I’m not really sure how I’d fuck someone other than you or Steve. I mean, maybe Natalia—”

Sam decides to interrupt Bucky before he finishes that interesting thought. “Rumor has it that you were a real smooth operator back in the day, though, taking ladies out on the town and double dating with Steve and going out dancing all night. You’re saying you never seriously tried it on with anybody else?” Sam asks in disbelief.

“Well, I mean, there were girls,” Bucky says slowly. “But I sorta got the feeling that they didn’t really take me seriously? Like, they were happy to go dancing with me, and they’d give me a sweet kiss at the end of the night, but if I tried for anything more they’d just pat me on the cheek and tell me to say hi to Steve for them and I really should take out their friend Betty next week.”

Bucky shrugs, obviously baffled by this behavior, but Sam suddenly understands exactly why Bucky wasn’t very successful with the ladies, and Sam really should have been way less surprised by the fact that even the sheltered Catholic girls of 1940s Brooklyn could tell that Bucky and Steve were deeply weird about each other and Bucky wasn’t exactly available.

“Did you ever want to get married and have a family?”

“Sure, someday,” Bucky says carelessly. “But Steve and I were still young when the war hit. I thought we’d have more time together. And then we didn’t, and Steve met Peggy, and you know how everything went after that.”

“It didn’t bother you when Steve found Peggy?”

“No, of course not,” Bucky says, his eyes shining and earnest. “Peggy was a doll. And I’ve been in love with Steve my whole life. I knew we’d always be best friends. It never even occurred to me that I could ever really lose Steve, not in a way that mattered. After all, who can ever really come between someone and their best friend?”

And that—explains a lot about Bucky’s near fanatical devotion to the very concept of best friendship. Sam shakes his head at this, knowing that there’s probably no point in trying to shake Steve and Bucky out of the wacky coping mechanisms they’ve developed for 1940s homophobia. After over a hundred years that shit has got to be way too deeply entrenched in their psyches.

Sam resigns himself to embracing their crazy on this particular issue. At least Bucky is hot.

***

Sam and Bucky are visiting Sam’s mom, and Sam doesn’t know how his mom knows, but somehow she definitely does know that something is different between Sam and Bucky, and boy does she look thrilled about it.

“Thank you so much for the lovely flowers, Bucky!” Sam’s mom gushes. “And you thought to bring a dish for dinner! Sam never used to bring a dish with him to dinner.” She beams at Bucky, so clearly approving of all of the changes Bucky has brought to Sam’s life, then looks meaningfully over at Sarah and Michelle. “And don’t they look handsome!”

Michelle simply nods obediently at this, because she’s eleven and not particularly impressed by Sam’s too-formal attire, but Sarah gives him a quick once over and then raises her eyebrows in mild surprise at his tailored blazer.

Sam and Sarah have a quick conversation through facial expressions, communicating “What’s all this then, Sam?” and “Don’t make a big thing about it, Sarah,” and “Is he your boyfriend?” and “Shut up, Sarah!” through a series of suggestively waggled eyebrows and narrowed eyes and teasing smirks.

“I hope it wasn’t too much trouble for you to plan a meal without meat, Mrs. Wilson,” Bucky says with concern. “If it’s too much or you don’t want the hassle of meal planning, you’re all more than welcome to come to our apartment for dinner on Sunday nights.”

And the thing is, Bucky’s not being smarmy or insincere about it at all. He would be genuinely happy to have Sam’s family over for dinner every Sunday night, because Bucky likes cooking and he likes Sam and he likes families, and maybe Sam’s starting to feel some kind of way about all of Bucky’s effortless charm and openhanded generosity and muscular thighs.

“So you and Sam are living together,” Sarah says with interest. Even Michelle perks up at this, finally glancing up from her phone, where she’s been texting rapidly or possibly live tweeting this entire embarrassing conversation.

Bucky puts a casual arm around Sam’s shoulders, and come on, Bucky has to know how this looks to Sam’s family, right? “Yep, for probably around six months now, right, sweetheart?” Bucky says, smiling at Sam.

And suddenly Sam realizes that maybe Bucky doesn’t know how this looks to Sam’s family, because Bucky has such an extreme lack of awareness regarding normal friendship boundaries, and also because they’re so far deep into this whole fake-best-friends thing that this is just the way that the two of them act now, all the time.

And, really, Sam has to blame Steve and Natasha for this too, because the two of them are only encouraging this madness with all the “best friends dates” and the excessive physical affection and their own overly invested relationship. Literally no one in Bucky’s life is modeling basic relationship boundaries for him, no wonder he slipped through the cracks of normal human friendship behavior.

And Sam must be crazy too, because he just smiles back at Bucky and says, “Yep, that sounds about right, baby.” Because Sam isn’t really all that concerned about normal human friendship behavior when Bucky looks at him like that, gray eyes all warm and soft and pleased, like Sam’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

Sam’s heart beats a little faster in his chest, warmth traveling through his veins, and oh, this is a thing.

“You know, when you and Steve were living together, he never invited us over to your place,” Sam’s mother points out. Thanks to all of Bucky’s hard work rehabbing Steve’s tarnished image in Sam’s mother’s eyes, Steve has been upgraded from that boy to Steve, always stated with a faint moue of distaste.

“Steve and I were international fugitives, Mom,” Sam replies, his tone patient. “We didn’t have a stable place to invite you to.”

“And whose fault was that!” Sam’s mom says triumphantly.

“Mom, I made my own choices when it came to the Accords.”

“Sam’s not a follower,” Bucky agrees, and it’s sweet that Bucky thinks so but Sam realizes now that that is a complete lie, because Sam has done nothing but follow Bucky along in this foolishness ever since he felt Bucky’s body pressed up against him in a closet. “And if anything it’s probably my fault how everything went down. I was the one they blamed for that bombing—Steve and Sam were just trying to help me. They really are the best friends I could ever ask for, and I’m still not sure I was worth everything they went through for it.’”

And maybe it’s just a fluke of the phrasing, maybe Bucky didn’t really mean it, but Sam can’t help but notice that this is the first time Bucky has ever used the plural form of the term best friend.

“Oh, dear, that wasn’t your fault!” Sam’s mother protests. “You were framed for that bombing!”

“Well, it certainly wasn’t Steve’s fault either, Mom.”

Sam’s mother sniffs. “Well, I still think Steve could have made more of an effort to get to know your family.”

“I’m still friends with Steve, Mom,” Sam says, rolling his eyes. “Our friendship is not past tense, we’re not, like, broken up or something.”

“Then why isn’t Steve here for Sunday dinner with the rest of the family?” Sam’s mother gestures around the table at the five of them, and Sam’s heart skips a beat as he realizes that his mother is including Bucky in the family.

Sarah and Michelle are observing this conversation with ill-concealed glee, unabashedly enjoying Sam’s friendship-slash-relationship-slash-familial drama. Bucky’s arm is still wrapped around Sam, his thumb rubbing absent little circles on Sam’s shoulder, and Michelle is tapping away on her phone as she watches. Sam doesn’t have high hopes for this staying off the internet when he catches Michelle snapping a surreptitious photo of Sam tucked in snugly under Bucky’s arm.

It’s Bucky’s metal arm, too, so no chance of passing Bucky off as some random dude.

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, Sam thinks. He leans over and gives Bucky a soft kiss on the mouth right in front of his family.

***

Sam and Bucky are fooling around on the sofa after finishing season one of The Mandalorian—apparently Pedro Pascal’s bedroom voice really does it for both of them—and Sam is finally getting the chance to trace Bucky’s abs with his tongue the way he imagined every single time he jerked off in the shower back before Bucky started taking showers with him.

Sam shifts down to suck a bruise into the sharp jut of Bucky’s hip bone, and Bucky moans underneath him. Bruises don’t last any longer on Bucky than they do on Steve, but Sam still likes seeing Bucky’s fair skin mottled with fresh marks, likes the possessive little thrill it sends through him to see Bucky’s perfect flesh marred by Sam’s mouth and teeth.

“Sam, please, suck me, sweetheart,” Bucky begs.

“Yeah,” Sam agrees, pulling Bucky’s boxer-briefs down his hips and watching in satisfaction when Bucky’s hard cock springs forward, flushed and thick and perfect. Sam is impatient tonight, wants Bucky’s cock in his mouth now, and he leans forward to swallow Bucky down in one long, slick slide.

“Fuck, Sam,” Bucky moans.

Sam grabs Bucky’s hips as he bobs his head up and down, fingers digging in tight, bruising, to keep Bucky from thrusting into Sam’s mouth. Bucky is strong enough that he could easily break Sam’s hold but he doesn’t, squirming restlessly underneath Sam, frustrated and needy and desperate.

Sam pulls off Bucky’s cock long enough to take in a big gulp of air before he slides back down, taking Bucky as far back into his throat as he can, and Bucky moans brokenly when Sam tightens his mouth and lips around him. Sam sets a steady rhythm, swirling his tongue around the head of Bucky’s cock and then sucking him back down again, spit slicking up the way. Sam reaches up to roll Bucky’s balls between his fingers, squeezing and tugging gently, admiring the heft of them in his hand.

“God, Sam, Sam,” Bucky chants, hands fisting in the sheets to keep from grabbing Sam’s head and fucking his face. “Sam, sweetheart, I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

Sam moans around Bucky’s cock, and Bucky cries out, tapping Sam’s shoulder in a desperate warning before he breaks Sam’s hold on his hips and thrusts forward, flooding Sam’s mouth with come. Sam swallows him down, bitter and salty, and then leans forward to rest his head against Bucky’s pelvis and catch his breath.

“God, Sam,” Bucky says, panting. He looks flushed and beautiful, and Sam’s heart feels like it’s going to explode in his chest.

“I love you too,” Sam says helplessly.

Bucky looks awestruck for a moment, then says, “C’mere,” in a rough voice.

He pulls Sam up and gives him a quick, hard kiss, then reaches down to unbutton Sam’s jeans and slide his hand around Sam’s cock. He strokes Sam firmly, a brutal pace that drives Sam half out of his mind. Sam’s already so hard from sucking Bucky’s cock, can still taste Bucky’s come in his mouth, and he won’t need much to get there.

“Baby, please, I need—”

“I know what you need, sweetheart,” Bucky says comfortingly. He buries his head in Sam’s neck, biting down on the thick cord of muscle that leads to Sam’s shoulder, and Sam’s back arches in pleasure. Bucky strokes him just a little faster, almost enough, thumb rubbing at that sensitive spot right beneath Sam’s glans. “C’mon, sweetheart, come for me.”

And Sam does, come splattering over his lower belly, mind going blissfully blank and toes curling in pleasure. While Sam comes down from his high, Bucky reaches up to cup Sam’s face in his hand, stroking his thumb tenderly over Sam’s cheek. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

Sam leans forward to kiss him, losing himself in the warm heat of Bucky’s mouth, their lips moving in a slow, gentle slide against each other. They make out lazily for a while, hands roaming appreciatively over each other’s bodies, until Sam reluctantly pulls away to clean up.

When Sam returns to the living room, Bucky is sitting in the dim light of the television, chewing anxiously at his lower lip. Sam plops down next to him, turning on his side to face him and putting his feet in Bucky’s lap.

“Did you mean it?” Bucky asks uncertainly. “It wasn’t just, like, a heat of the moment thing?”

“I did,” Sam confirms, his voice sure and steady. “Did you mean it?”

“God, yes, Sam. I love you.”

They look at each other dopily for a while, then Bucky tugs at Sam’s legs to urge him further down the sofa, closer to Bucky. They curl up together and enjoy the comfortable silence until Bucky says, “Tell me something you’ve never told Steve.”

Sam thinks for a moment, then groans. He covers his face with his hands, peeking embarrassedly through his fingers, and says, “OK, so I went through a phase, when I first got out of high school, where I told everybody to call me Snap Wilson.”

Bucky laughs incredulously, then claps a hand over his mouth to stifle it, mostly unsuccessfully. “I’m sorry, you told them to call you what now?” he asks gleefully.

“I told them to call me Snap Wilson,” Sam grits out. He is already regretting this, but Bucky looks so fucking elated that Sam can’t bring himself to care too much about the inevitable teasing he’s going to receive. And it’s Bucky, not Steve or Natasha, so Sam knows that the ribbing won’t be too savage.

Bucky is already trying to suppress his wild grin, pressing his lips together until they turn almost white. “So was this like a rough time you were going through, like trouble at home or something, or did you just think Snap Wilson sounded cool?” His voice is a mixture of genuine concern and barely concealed amusement.

“I just thought it sounded cool,” Sam confesses.

Bucky laughs in delight, and Sam gives him a sour look, poking him in the side. “Yeah, yeah, your turn now, buddy,” Sam says. “Tell me something you’ve never told Steve.”

Bucky sobers up, clears his throat and says, “I didn’t enlist in the Army.”

“What?”

“I let Steve think that I enlisted, because I didn’t want him to know that I had to drop out of college to pay for his medical bills when he got sick the winter of ’41. Got called up shortly after, told him that I enlisted.”

Sam’s heart breaks a little at that, for Bucky, because he would have done anything to take care of Steve, and for Steve, who never would have forgiven himself if Bucky had gotten drafted and sent home in a body bag on his account. To this day Steve still feels guilty about leaving Bucky behind in that ravine, even though he had no reason to believe that Bucky could have survived the fall, and anyway Steve drove a plane straight into the Arctic like a week later and couldn’t have rescued Bucky anyway.

“So wait, how does Steve think you paid for his medical bills?”

“I told him I got paid to pose for some dirty pictures,” Bucky says with a saucy grin. “Then he asked to see them and I had to beg one of his photographer friends to take some for me to try to sell the whole embarrassing lie. Honestly I was a little flattered that Steve had exactly zero questions about the whole thing, like of course someone would pay to see me jerking off wearing a pair of women’s stockings.”

Sam raises his eyebrows at that. “Any chance those pictures are still around somewhere?”

“I’m pretty sure Steve burned them all before he headed out on the bond circuit,” Bucky says with regret, then brightens. “But on the plus side, I think I just came up with a great idea for the erotic portrait series Steve’s been working on during all of our best friend dates.”

Sam grins cheerfully at this. “Nice.”

***

A month later, they’re in Eastern Washington with Steve and Natasha, fighting off a horde of formerly human white nationalist cult members who are now a group of largely mindless but probably still racist vampires.

The vampires aren’t much of a threat, but there are a bunch of them and they’re good at causing enough chaos that it’s hard to get close to Todd, who’s in a neck brace again and back on his bullshit.

Sam’s done a ton of research on Catholicism since the last time they met and he’s still not sure how to finally kill this guy. The holy water blessed by the Roman pope didn’t work, and the holy or possibly unholy water blessed by the Antipope of Avignon didn’t work, and Sam’s pretty much run out of popes to get holy water from. Out of a commitment to preparedness Sam’s brought along vials of leftover holy water from each pope, but he’s honestly not sure if they’ll be much help to them if neither of them even works.

Sam, Bucky, and Steve are all covered in blood from the vampires they’ve slain so far, but as usual Natasha still looks perfectly pristine as she lectures Todd on his many sins and hypocrisies. God, she even had the audacity to wear a white uniform to this. Sam’s heart swells with affection for her.

“I thought you were supposed to be Catholic, Todd. It’s not very pro-life of you to create all these vampires,” Natasha says, shaking her head in disapproval.

“I’m just trying to make humanity great again,” Todd snaps defensively through his ridiculous plastic fangs. “Society works best when there are a few strong leaders and many weak, dependent followers. HYDRA believes in order. The Catholic Church used to believe in order too—it used to understand the value of an authoritarian system of governing its followers.”

And just like that, Sam understands Todd’s belief system. “He’s a Sedevacant!” Sam announces, pointing a finger in triumph.

“What?” Bucky asks, firing a crossbow into a vampire trying to latch its fangs into Steve’s calf. The vampire explodes in a shower of red, and Steve wrinkles his nose in disgust but keeps fighting. At this point there’s not very much of Steve that isn’t covered in blood, and Sam hopes they aren’t all going to have to worry about bloodborne diseases from this whole gross situation.

“Remember all those changes in the Catholic Church since you and Steve were kids? Those all came about after the Second Vatican Council in the 1960s. Sedevacants believe that the church lost its way and fell into heresy when it embraced modernism. So according to them there is no valid pope—the seat of the pope is actually vacant,” Sam explains, tossing his shield off to behead a vampire looming over Bucky.

“Thanks, sweetheart!” Bucky calls, blowing him a kiss.

“Great,” Natasha says, irritated. “And how are we supposed to get holy water blessed by no one? Wouldn’t that just be regular water?”

Sam frowns in dismay at this terrible, zany loophole Todd has apparently discovered.

Todd cackles triumphantly. “You can’t! You’ll never be able to kill me—there’s no holy water on earth that’s been blessed by no one,” Todd boasts. “I’m invincible!”

“Not so fast,” Bucky says, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Sam, do you still have both vials of holy water?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Mix them together!” Bucky says. “Holy water blessed by the pope plus holy water blessed by the antipope will cancel each other out.”

Todd’s eyes widen in horror. “No, that won’t work!”

“It’s simple math, Todd,” Bucky says smugly. “Sam, do it, I’ll cover you!”

Sam’s hands are steady as he unscrews the tops of the bottles, sure in the knowledge that Bucky will have his back if any vampires try to latch onto him while he’s busy. He coats the shield in holy water from each of the vials, making sure to cover every square inch. Then, with a mighty throw, he launches the shield toward Todd, nailing him directly in the throat.

When Todd’s head is blown back off his body, he explodes into a bloody, disgusting mess.

“Gross,” Steve says.

The baby vampires stumble around, confused and lost without their leader, and it only takes about twenty minutes for Sam and the others to slay the rest of them now that Todd’s dead.

 Sam makes a mental note to use all of his influence as Captain America to get Bucky an honorary doctorate in mathematics from Harvard or Yale or something after all this.

***

Sam and Bucky spend forty-five long minutes showering off all the blood after their showdown with Todd and his racist vampire gang, the last fifteen of which are spent with Bucky pressed up against the shower wall with Sam’s tongue in his ass.

“Fuck, sweetheart, please,” Bucky begs. He’s trembling and squirming, spreading his legs shamelessly for Sam. “Fuck me, Sam, please.”

Sam reaches down to squeeze the base of his cock, liquid heat pooling in his belly at the thought of sliding his cock into that tight hole he’s been eagerly, methodically loosening. Bucky’s hands are pulling at his own ass, spreading his cheeks so sweetly, so obediently for Sam’s mouth. Sam traces a finger around Bucky’s wet rim, poking in just a bit to test him out, and Bucky’s thighs twitch and shake around Sam’s face.

“You think you can take it standing up?” Sam asks, giving Bucky an assessing look.

Bucky bites his lip and sobs a bit, panting and gasping, his face pressed up against the shower wall. Bucky looks wrecked already, so pretty, and Sam decides to take pity on him.

“C’mon, baby, let’s go to the bedroom,” Sam says, standing up and shutting off the shower.

He wraps Bucky in a towel and leads him to the hotel bedroom, and Bucky shivers prettily in the cool air, goosebumps rising on his clean, damp skin. Sam crowds Bucky against the mattress to warm him up, leaning his head down to dip into the wet heat of Bucky’s mouth, sliding his tongue against Bucky’s in a dirty kiss that leaves them both moaning.

Sam grabs the lube and Bucky spreads his legs eagerly, obscenely, and the sight is so erotic that Sam feels like he’s been punched in the gut, breathless with desire and desperate to plunge his cock into all that tight, willing heat. His hands shake a bit as he fumbles with the lube, and he coats his fingers until they’re nice and slick, ready to slide right in with just the slightest amount of pressure.

Bucky gasps when Sam slips one long finger into him, biting his lip and arching his back. “Sam, more—I need—”

“I got you, baby,” Sam says, sliding another finger in next to the first. Bucky’s mouth gapes open, his throat emitting a choked off little cry, and Sam’s cock is achingly hard at the sound, weeping messily against Sam’s belly, dripping little trails of precome. Bucky’s a quivering mess underneath him, and Sam presses wet kisses between Bucky’s thighs as he ruthlessly opens him up. “God, look at you, baby.”

Sam gives him another finger, and Bucky takes it, keening and begging. “More—please—Sam, I want your cock.”

“Oh, you think you’re ready for it, baby?”

“Yes, please, Sam,” Bucky whines, and Sam reluctantly removes his fingers, climbing up to settle his body over Bucky’s, letting gravity pull him down so they’re pressed tightly together. Bucky may be sweet and pliant underneath him now, but Sam knows how strong he really is, how easily he can bear Sam’s weight.

When Sam starts pushing his cock inside of him, Bucky gasps, mouth opening in a small o of pleasure. Sam fucks Bucky shallowly until he grows impatient, needs to go deeper, grabbing Bucky’s thighs to pull them up so he can bend Bucky in half underneath him. Bucky’s limbs are long and flexible, moving easily as Sam moves him right where he needs him. Sam bites his own lip, hard, as Bucky’s hole pulls him in, clutching greedily at Sam’s throbbing cock.

When Sam slides all the way home, Bucky gasps and says, “Sam, Sam, wait—”

Sam pauses, his cock buried fully inside Bucky, panting harshly at the effort of keeping his hips still.

“Yeah, baby,” Sam says, voice straining. “What do you need?”

“Sam,” Bucky says, and he sucks in a deep breath, closing his eyes and visibly working to control himself. “Sam, I need to tell you something.”

Sam looks down at Bucky and waits, letting Bucky take the time he needs to settle. Sam’s hips are flush against Bucky’s ass, his cock seated fully inside of him, and he feels so connected to Bucky, like they’re two parts of the same whole.

Bucky pants raggedly for a few moments, squirming and restless under Sam, until he calms again, opening his eyes to look at Sam. Bucky’s lashes are long and gorgeous and damp, his pupils dark and dilated.

“Sam, I have to tell you,” Bucky says, flushing prettily, his wide eyes so earnest and sweet. “I—somewhere along the way, I want you to know, everything became real for me. You—you really are my best friend.”

Sam closes his eyes, heart so achingly full in his chest.

“You’re my best friend too,” Sam says softly, seriously, because he knows this is important to Bucky. “I love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.” Bucky’s eyes are wet and shining.

Sam grinds his hips against Bucky’s ass, his lips curving up in a dirty grin. “You gonna let me fuck you now?” Sam asks. Bucky gasps, hands coming up to grip Sam’s back, fingers digging in bruisingly hard.

“Yeah, Sam, yeah, fuck me,” Bucky breathes.

Sam pulls out and then slams his hips back into Bucky, who gasps in surprise, spine arching in pleasure. Sam sets a hard and deep rhythm, letting loose all of the leftover tension and stress from the fight earlier, taking all that frustrated energy out on Bucky’s willing body. When Sam nails Bucky’s prostate, Bucky’s hands scrabble over Sam’s back, clutching and pulling at him frantically. “Yes, there, there,” Bucky says, voice desperate and breathy.

Sam drives his cock into Bucky faster, pounding harder as he feels his balls tighten and heat race up his spine. He’s close, so close, and he leans down to brace himself on one elbow so he can reach down to grab Bucky’s hard cock. He can tell from the noises Bucky’s making, those sweet, high whimpers, that Bucky isn’t far behind him. When he strokes Bucky hard, his fist sliding brutally up and down Bucky’s cock, Bucky arches his back and comes, spilling all over his sweaty chest.

The sight of Bucky’s come, pearly and glistening over his taut abs, sends Sam over the edge. Sam’s hips jerk and stutter, his thrusts erratic, shuddering as he feels his balls empty into Bucky’s tight hole. He wants to collapse, wants to let go and fall onto Bucky, let Bucky catch him and hold him, but instead he pulls out. Bucky whines quietly at the loss, and Sam can’t resist reaching down to rub his fingers against Bucky’s wet, puffy hole, admiring the slow trickle of Sam’s come dripping out of him. Bucky shivers at the touch of Sam’s fingers to his abused hole, probably raw and oversensitive, and Sam reluctantly drops his hand.

“Sorry,” he says, kissing Bucky’s knee in apology.

“S’ok,” Bucky slurs. “Like it when you get all vulgar and possessive on me.”

“Speaking of possessive,” Sam says, heaving out a heavy sigh and collapsing back onto the bed next to Bucky, hooking his ankle over Bucky’s. “Can we talk about the whole fake-best-friends thing? Like, where are we with that and what was our endgame there?”

“Well, I guess I was wrong about only having one best friend,” Bucky admits, looking at Sam out of the corner of his eye and grinning bashfully. “And I guess the plan was just—make Steve jealous.”

“And?” Sam prompts.

“And—I think that was it? I’m not really sure where I saw it all working out,” Bucky confesses.

“I feel like maybe you’re not all that great at planning without a murder board.”

“I’m a visual planner,” Bucky says defensively. “And it seemed kind of disrespectful to make a murder board about Steve given the fact that I did, in fact, try to murder him several times as the Winter Soldier.”

“That’s fair,” Sam concedes, tipping his head to acknowledge the point. “But we’re good now, right? I mean, we’re best friends with each other, we’re best friends with Steve and Natasha, Steve and Natasha are also best friends—and I’m kind of crazy in love with you.”

“What I’m hearing you say here is that my crazy plan worked.”

“Yeah, OK,” Sam says, hiding a smile. “Maybe it did.”

***

It’s a Saturday, and Sam and Steve are on their best friend date, and Steve is kicking Sam’s ass in the gym. Sam knows, intellectually, that he’s in fantastic shape and that there’s no shame in being beaten by a scientifically enhanced human being. That doesn’t mean that it doesn’t still hurt his pride—and his back, motherfucker—when Steve manages to take him down hard without even having the decency to break a sweat.

“I think that’s about enough for today. I feel like I’ve done a pretty good job wearing you out,” Steve says, smirking like an asshole, because he is an asshole. “Let’s hit the showers.”

When they get to the SHIELD locker room, it’s nearly empty, the way it usually is on Saturdays. There are still a few particularly dedicated SHIELD employees roaming about, mostly new guys. For whatever reason most of the seasoned employees stay away from the gym locker room on Saturday afternoons when Sam and Steve work out. Today, when people catch sight of Sam and Steve walking in, they blanch and immediately speed up with whatever they’re doing, hustling out of the locker room like it’s on fire or something. In under two minutes, Sam and Steve are the only ones left.

“It’s weird how everybody always leaves when they see us coming in to shower together,” Sam remarks, stripping off his sweaty shirt and tossing it in his locker.

“I wonder if they’re intimidated by us,” Steve muses, then takes a moment to admire Sam’s bare chest. Steve’s eyes are hot and appreciative as they travel lazily up and down Sam’s torso.

Sam shrugs in response, then winces as he feels a muscle tighten up in his back. “Ouch,” Sam hisses. “Man, I know I’m not twenty-five anymore, but damn, I really don’t need the reminder, you know?”

Steve’s brow furrows in concern. “Here, let me take a look at that when we get in the shower.”

They finish undressing and then get into the shower together. They share a stall, because Steve read an article about water conservation that he apparently found very inspiring, and also because sometimes it’s nice having a buddy with you. Sam lathers himself up, and then out of habit he reaches over to spin Steve around so he can wash Steve’s back too.

“God, that feels good,” Steve moans, the sound of it echoing in the strangely empty locker room. Sam spends a good few minutes really working Steve over as he scrubs Steve’s back, groping and kneading at Steve’s lats and traps while Steve moans and arches his back in pleasure.

When Sam finishes, he gives Steve a little pat and says, “OK, you do me.” Obligingly, Steve turns around to rub Sam’s back, massaging the tight muscles, his hands sliding easily over Sam’s skin with the slick of Sam’s body wash.

“This where it hurts?” Steve murmurs, digging his fingers into Sam’s lower back. “God, you’re really tight here.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, groaning at the pleasure-pain of Steve working at the sore point in his lower back. He huffs a frustrated, petulant sigh. “You know, sometimes I feel like the more I lift, the tighter I get.”

“Maybe you should start going to yoga with Bucky and Natasha,” Steve suggests. “Actually, they’re starting a class in about twenty minutes. If we hurry up in here, we could probably meet them there if you want.”

“Wait, Bucky and Natasha are at yoga today?” Sam asks in disbelief. “You’re telling me that Bucky and Natasha go to yoga? That’s what they’re doing on their best friend dates?”

Suddenly, Steve looks very anxious and very guilty.

“Wait,” Steve says slowly, apprehensively, “Bucky does tell you what he does on his best friend dates, right? He—I mean, you do know—”

“Yeah, Steve, I know,” Sam says, his tone dry. “I just thought yoga was, like, a cover for something. I didn’t think they were actually going to yoga.”

“Oh!” Steve brightens. “Yeah, it’s doing some really amazing things for Bucky’s flexibility. And for Natasha’s ass.”

Sam shrugs. “All right, then, let’s head over.”

Sam and Steve finish up in the shower, moving more quickly than their usual leisurely Saturday afternoon locker room shower pace. Sam’s skin is still a bit damp under his fresh gym clothes, but the air outside is warm, and he’ll be sweating again soon anyway once he starts working out in the humid yoga studio.

When Bucky and Natasha see Sam and Steve, their faces light up with big smiles.

“Hey, sweetheart!” Bucky says, coming over to give Sam a hug and a kiss while Natasha does the same to Steve. “You and Steve are done earlier than usual.”

“Yeah, he whooped my ass,” Sam admits, scratching his jaw.

Sam and Steve switch hugging partners, and Nat’s body feels small and strong in Sam’s arms when she goes up onto her tiptoes to give him a warm hug and a kiss on the lips. And when Sam sneaks a look downward, he notices that Steve was not lying about all the great things yoga’s been doing for Natasha’s ass.

Sam lets go of Natasha and turns back to Bucky. “So you and Nat really do yoga,” Sam says, shaking his head ruefully. “You know, all this time, I thought you two were doing some secret spy shit that you were trying to keep me from having to answer questions about? I was half-convinced that we should be thinking about getting married just so we wouldn’t have to testify against each other.”

Steve and Natasha raise their eyebrows in surprise, but Bucky looks pleased at that. “Well,” Bucky says, lips curving up in a crooked grin, “let’s not take that marriage idea off the table just yet.”

Natasha clearly aims for a sober expression, but the corner of her lip twitches and her eyes sparkle with mirth. “You know, I can’t say that we’ll definitely never get up to any secret spy shit, Sam. Maybe it’s not a bad idea to keep that in your back pocket.”

Steve raises an eyebrow and nods thoughtfully. “Plus, do we even know if Bucky’s still considered an American citizen?”

“I’m honestly not sure,” Bucky admits. “But being married to Captain American should grant me automatic citizenship, probably.”

Sam shrugs placidly and slings an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “Sounds like a good plan to me.”

After all, Sam’s mom always did say that happiness was being married to your best friend.

#winter falcon #sam wilson x bucky barnes #sam wilson #bucky barnes #steve rogers x natasha romanoff #marvel cinematic universe #the falcon and the winter soldier #ambiguous barbershop quartet

[seriouslyhooked]

When We Collide (Part 4)

Emma Swan has always known one thing: trust no one but yourself. Unfortunately she forgot her one rule and now she’s paying for it. One bad decision led her to the monstrous ‘Crocodile’ a mobster in New York who goes by the name Gold. Hope seems lost until she meets another person in this underworld, Killian Jones. Despite the place they find each other, a true love blossoms, and they manage to get away. But what will happen when Emma discovers who Killian really is? Will love prevail? Um, yeah, I’m writing this, so duh – it’s all love all the time. Fic features motorcycles, hot guys in leather cuts, and a bit of action/drama. Will end happily, and despite the first chapter, will be light on angst. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3. Available on FanFiction Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks for waiting during my little hiatus from writing this fic. I have been absolutely swamped with the end of program madness, but I am hoping I have now turned a corner and that I can do some writing more regularly. I miss getting to write these fluffy fics when the real world calls, but I am happy to report my muse got chatty again, and with a brief window of time I managed to write this next chapter of ‘When We Collide.’ We find Emma and Killian still en route to their new life, and there’s not a ton of action (which is coming later on), but some conversations need to be had for sure. Not to fear, nothing too too angsty in this chapter, and hopefully the surrounding cuteness is appreciated by all. Thanks so much for reading and hope you all enjoy!

No one ever felt so good in the middle-of-nowhere Nebraska.

Not to say that people didn’t have happy lives in this state, or that there weren’t parts of this place that held beauty and meaning and excitement, but it was a commonly known fact when taking a cross country trek that Nebraska was a seemingly endless, barren span of driving. There were no trees, no hills, no real sights to see. It was just two lanes of highway going one way and two lanes of road on the other side. Occasionally there were billboards, and those made for a laugh. Some were more expected, reading ‘Gas Ahead!’ or ‘Next Exit 82 Miles,’ but others were a wild contradiction. Everything out here was either about Jesus or sex shops and that was not an exaggeration. Nearly every billboard they passed warned about the dangers of the devil or openly bragged about having the best stash of adult toys in the Midwest. It was absolute craziness, and in the meantime, there was just nothing out here at all. Just scraggly, heat ridden crops, miles of empty fields, and a horizon that stretched on for what felt like forever.

Yet while many people may not like the nothingness, Killian and Emma were of a very different mind. Sure, it had been a long few days of riding, but for Killian that meant having Emma curled up against him for hours on end. It felt damn good to have her holding him tight as they headed down the highway, and when they stopped to stretch their legs or use the facilities, they’d fallen into a pattern of shifting over the reins. In the downtime and when they wanted to get off the main road, Killian was showing Emma more about his bike, letting her get a feel for the machine and showing her how to captain it herself.

It was questionable how legal this was, of course. Emma had no license, but some of these states further out west didn’t pay any mind to that. Besides, there were no lawmen out anywhere. In their five hours of driving today they’d passed nothing and nobody but 18 wheelers making the trip from one coast to another. As such, Killian didn’t have much fear in letting Emma really ride, and it had only taken about an hour to learn the truth: his Swan was a natural and also a speed demon.

“I can’t get over how awesome this is,” Emma said, pulling off her helmet and shaking out her hair in a way designed to distract and entice any man. Even with a backdrop of nothingness, on a deserted road off highway where he’d let her spread her wings, Emma was stunning. Tie that in with the red leather jacket she’d been wearing all trip, her dark wash jeans, and the boots he knew she needed for the road, and he was done for.

They were only an hour or so from their next stop, a quaint, but fully fortified home in the city (a generous word given how small the place was) of North Platt, but Killian was in no rush. How could he be when Emma’s eyes were radiating the excitement of the moment, and her hair, despite just being in her helmet seemed windswept and wild. She was bloody gorgeous in all ways, but in the throws of something that thrilled her, she was entirely too much for his heart to handle.

Unable to stop himself, he pulled her flush against him for a searing kiss and he loved the way she leaned into it and seemed just as ravenous as he was. Instantly the rush of excitement Emma was feeling on the bike was channeled into their embrace, and Killian groaned at the contact. Her hips arched against him as her hands pulled him close. She nipped and licked and tasted him with the same feverish need that he had for her and it hiked his desperation to hold her close and sate the rising need between them. She was driving him mad, tempting him in ways nothing ever had before. He had half a mind to fuck her out here on the bike. The thought of it pulled a growl low from his chest, but the voice in the back of his head told him no. This wasn’t right. Not out here. Deserted as it was, cars were still passing and someone could see, and he’d never risk that with someone so precious as Emma. Instead he had to calm down and pull away, and when they drew back, her face was kissed with pink, not just from the ride, but from his attentions. The lust between them clung as hard to her as it did to him. Her green eyes were dark now, her breathing labored, and she wet her lips absentmindedly, causing a tug in his gut that wanted him to say fuck the rest of the world and take her here.

“I’m definitely adding a bike to my list of things to get,” she said breathily, her mouth curving up into a knowing grin. She was fully aware of how worked up he was now, and she shifted ever so slightly against him, rubbing up against his hard length barely contained by these damn tight pants. “I need more of that in my life.”

“Consider it done, love,” he said, his voice so gruff it was unrecognizable. “When we finally get home, you choose the make and it’s yours.”

“You don’t have to do that, Killian,” Emma said, suddenly more serious, like it had never dawned on her that he would gift her such a thing. “A bike is a big deal, and I’m perfectly capable of buying my own. I’ll just find a job and save for a while. I’ve done it before.”

“Aye, love, there’s no doubt you have and that you can. You can do anything you set your brilliant mind to,” he agreed, taking the hand that was placed against his heart and kissing it tenderly. He watched her swallow harshly but her eyes never left his face as she took him in with full consideration. “If it means a lot to you that you do it on your own, so be it. I will never stand in the way of what you wish. I only meant that you’re not on your own any more Emma, and I need – no, damn it, I want - to take care of you, as much as you’ll let me.”

A soft and understanding smile tugged at Emma’s lips once more that warmed into a true smirk as she quietly thought to herself. He bit his tongue, barely refraining from asking what exactly she was thinking, but he didn’t want to overpower her. He may have the urge to share absolutely everything with Emma, and to care for her, provide for her, and protect her all the days of his life, but he would not crowd her. He couldn’t bear to pressure her or make her feel suffocated. This wasn’t about taking control from her for his own gain, it was just… well he couldn’t really explain. He was just so damn protective and so desirous to make sure she had everything she wanted and more. And it only felt fair to that part of himself, for she was truly the master of their fates, holding his heart and hopes in her delicate hands.

“Someday I’m going to really push you,” she said and his brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m going to push you past the perfect gentleman you always tend to be.”

“I’m just trying to be what you deserve, love,” he said, his voice betraying his concern at her characterization. Did she think he was faking with her? He wasn’t, he was just trying not to fuck everything up before it could really take flight.

“I know,” she agreed, running her fingers along his brow and pushing back the hair that was growing longer each day and starting to fall across his face. The lightness of her touch made sparks fly under his skin. The fondness in her voice swept away his fears, and left only her truth in its wake. “And I love that, I really do. It means the world to me how much you care. But I’m dying to see what happens when you just let go. When you follow your instincts, those baser ones, the ones that run just a shade or two darker than this.”

Her words were an invitation that a part of him craved. She was right after all, he did want more. He wanted to claim her and be so intertwined that he didn’t know where he ended and she began. He hated any kind of boundary between them, craved every moment that he held her close, and he wanted to give her everything she could ever want. In is ideal world, Emma did only what she loved and what she wanted, and as flashes of what that might look like came to mind he felt a yearning for more. Marriage, babies, a family. A whole long and lovely life where he was her man and she was his everything.

“We’ll get there,” she said, pulling him back from his thoughts and kissing him gently again. “Every day we get closer, you know?”

He could only nod and assure her that he knew exactly what she meant. As they came back on the bike with him once again driving, he allowed those thoughts to linger. Things were so good between them right now, so much more than he’d ever imagined. Every day they had only further cemented the bond between them, and the journey out here had been amazing even if they were on the run.

Well, technically they weren’t really ‘running’, for there was no one with the ability to chase them. Killian had been assured that the Crocodile and his strongest fixers were all in custody, and he’d told Emma as much a few days prior. Some of that information had been disclosed by untraceable messages from Will, but there were also numerous stories in the press. Even in the far reaches of Nebraska nothingness, the Crocodile’s capture had made the papers. He was one of the most wanted man in the country and right now he was in jail, rotting in a cell, despite his army of crooked cops purchased to keep him free. He was no doubt furious at this unexpected downfall, but none the wiser of their actions. Everyone not arrested in the organization had since dispersed, all of the higher ups in Gold’s command and business had gone to ground and Will promised that their case was solid and now even stronger in the face of Gold’s takedown. The bust was clean and they had at least a little while where the monster would be held captive without even a chance of bond or bail or trial.

Only with that confidence that no one suspected what he’d done and that Gold was very much occupied could Killian breathe easy, and even then it was only because of Emma. She always brought him strength, even when she didn’t realize all the parts at play. That peace was one of the most beautiful gifts she gave him, and it carried through not just the rest of their ride, but also through their arrival at the safe house, their making some dinner, and then falling into bed together. Hours passed, and in all that time Killian felt nothing short of elation. He was complete, with this beautiful woman here in his arms, and he couldn’t imagine how he’d ever gotten this lucky. Loving her and having her love in return was the honor of his life, no question about it.

There was only one thing that Killian felt weighing on him right now, and it was one last truth he had to tell before they got back home. He wouldn’t call this revelation a secret per se, because it wasn’t, not really. It was more an oversight in his disclosures to Emma. The truth about where they were going and the life that awaited them had not been fully explained, and though he’d been putting off that conversation for a few days, he finally felt like it might be time to go there. As if she could tell he had something on his mind, Emma glanced over her bare shoulder to him and smiled, looking like a goddess fallen to this world just for him. He worried about dulling that smile, but in his heart he knew she’d accept this. He just had to man up and tell her already.

“Take a walk with me, love,” he pleaded and she blinked up at him from where she lay in this bed, her jade eyes cloudy with lust and confusion. She no doubt believed they were in for the night, and he had too when he drew her in here to ravish her fully, but he had a sudden urge for a change of scene. What he wanted to tell her demanded something different, and he had an idea of how to cushion this could-be blow.

“Now?” she asked.

“Aye, Swan,” he chuckled. “I’ve something to tell you.”

“Say no more,” Emma said, pushing up and jumping out of bed. His body tightened at the sight of her creamy skin and her beautiful body, but he couldn’t get sidetracked. There was time for that later, for now he too had to throw something on and head out to this moment he’d been avoiding for some time.  

A few minutes later they were out in the grounds of the property, further away from the house they were staying in, and nowhere near any kind of neighbors. Frogs croaked out their evening tune as the gentle hum of insects sounded out in the night. A subtle breeze washed over the overgrown grasses out front, but here, behind the home was a well worn patch of land that was soft and stable. They naturally found a place to sit, and lay out, neither of them afraid to be directly on the ground. Out here, under the big black sky dotted with stars so very far away, it felt the opposite of New York, and, Killian supposed, it was as good a place as any to tell Emma the whole truth.  

“Whatever it is, it’ll be okay, Killian,” Emma said, squeezing his hand. “You can tell me anything.”

“I know, love. I know. It’s just… hard to know where to begin exactly.”

“Well, who is it about?”

“My brothers,” Killian said and Emma nodded in recollection.

“Liam… who we’re heading to now. Wait, you said brothers? Like more than one?”

Killian nodded. “Aye, I’ve more than one. Liam is my only biological brother, my only living kin. But the others, well there were eight at last count. Could be more by now.”

“Eight?” she squeaked, followed closely by the question, “And wait, there could be more? What does that even mean?”

“They’re my club brothers, Emma.”

“Club brothers,” she replied, still not following. “What club?”

“Emma, I…” he trailed off but then just put it out there, though perhaps not in the clearest way. “I’m a patched in member of the Land Pirates, Big Sur.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma said, truly apologetic for her continued lack of understanding. “I’m not getting this. Should I know these… Land Pirates?”

“It’s an MC. A motorcycle club.” Finally some sort of recognition crossed her features, and just as he’d worried there was concern written all over her face.

“Please tell me motorcycle ‘club’ is different from motorcycle ‘gang,’” Emma begged after a few moments of taking in his words. “I meant what I said, Killian, I’m with you all the way, but if we’re just going from one gang to another I -,”

“It’s definitely different,” he assured her, pulling her into his arms. “My brothers aren’t involved in anything illegal. At least not professionally. I can’t speak to the past or what happens when things get dodgy, but that’s hardly the norm. The club owns a number of businesses in our small town and the ones around them. It was different when my Dad was leading, but Liam changed all that.”

Killian proceeded to fill Emma in on the whole truth, about how he’d been born into his father’s world but how his mother took him and Liam away when they were small. They moved back to her country for a while, for it took an ocean apart for Meera Jones to feel free of her husband. Much of his life across the pond was something that Emma knew about. In their times together preciously, he’d shared countless memories of his life with his Mum with her. What Emma didn’t realize was that their mother’s death, which came when he was ten, pushed him and Liam back to his father once more. There were no other relatives to take them, and so they’d been shipped back to America and were raised in the club, seeing a far less ethical life than the one Liam was now trying to make.

In its heyday, or as Killian considered it the darkest times, the Land Pirates ran anything and everything to make a buck. Guns, drugs, women. It was just as bad as Gold’s work but without the same rate of success or the appearance of grandeur. His father was an adrenaline junky, addicted to danger, money, women and booze. All of it was constantly present, and only when Liam and Killian enlisted did either of them get free of it. The military became a lifeline for them both, to leave that life behind. War was preferable to the moral corruption that resided in the MC.

“It sounds truly horrible,” Emma affirmed when he’d told her this, and he knew she understood the gravity of his statement. He’d also confessed how his time in the service had been brutal, so to say he preferred that to life before painted a bleak picture to be sure. “But I don’t understand. If that was what this club stood for, if it was as bad as it sounds, then why would you, uh what was the term, patch in?”

“Aye,” he said, impressed that she recalled that small phrase in the midst of much larger revelations. “My father died some years back, and the club pretty much crumbled in his absence. We were glad for that, at least I was. The Jones men had done enough damage. The world was better off without our whole bloody mess. But my father’s demise didn’t come without consequences. The club’s absence left a hole for others to try and come in. Other crews saw the money to be made in our part of the world and they pounced on the chance, and these men were just as malicious as Brennan but with even better follow through. Before long, the rest of the town was being taken over. People with no ties to the club were put in danger and told they needed to submit or give up the homes they’d known. Liam saw that and couldn’t stand for it. So he made a choice. He took over as Pres and rebuilt from the ashes.”

“I can’t imagine that was easy.”

It wasn’t. The fighting had been rough, and Killian and Liam, as well as the other men Liam had recruited had not been on the right side of the law even if they were preserving true justice. He wouldn’t burden Emma with the details unless she asked, but she seemed to take his agreement as enough, pivoting to another thought instead of lingering in the past.

“You make it all sound so…” He held his breath, afraid of what she would say. “Honorable.”

“My brother would be proud to hear you say that, love. He’s a man driven by honor at all times and in all ways. He would never feel peace unless we did something to mend the scars of Brennan’s time here.”

“It must have been hard to live in the shadow of your father’s misdeeds,” Emma said, running her hands along his arm. “For both of you.”

“Aye,” he agreed, not bothering to deny that. “But of the two of us Liam has always been the better man.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Emma said vehemently.

“You should,” Killian said, not trying to be down on himself, but stating a fact he’d truly believed his whole life.

“I won’t,” she countered and in spite of himself Killian laughed, pressing a kiss to her temple as he kept a hold on her. They lay together breathing each other in for some time, before Emma posed a question they’d always danced around but never explicitly broached. “So if the club is better now, why did you leave them? Why not stay with your family and help them make good?”

“You mean why in the world was I wrapped up with Gold in New York?” She nodded. “It’s simple really. Liam’s route to peace was in facing the demons of our father, but I was much more tied to scars of a different kind. You see, Gold stole from me well before I made it to New York. He killed the only woman I ever loved.” Emma looked up at him, shocked and saddened for his pain as he clarified. “My mother.”

“Oh Killian,” she said hugging him close, and though he expected her to ask for all the details of his mother’s death, she didn’t. She just held him, running her hands along his body with affection and support.

It brought tears to his eyes, to have a woman who accepted him this way. Who had heard so much, but was still beside him. Her patience was a sign of her strength and her trust, and whether she knew it or not she was healing him and his scars more than anything else ever could. He knew he’d come to tell her the whole story of his Mum someday, and soon, but the fact that he didn’t have to do so right now meant the world. Disclosing the sins of his father was enough for one night. The terrible tale of losing his mother could wait.

He couldn’t be exactly sure how long they remained out there, taking in the deep night sky as they quietly remained together. All Killian knew was that Emma stayed pressed against him, holding tight and centering him with the sound of her soft breathing and the steady beat of her heart. It beat out in time with his, a gentle rhythm despite the pain of both their pasts. How he had ever lived without this he did not know, but he knew he’d never see another day without her. Because no matter what came next, he was hell bent on staying with his Swan, building their life together and making new memories that healed any and all darkness from the past.

Post-Note: So there we have it. Just another little glimpse into this journey out west. I am enjoying these kind of glimpses into Emma and Killian, and next chapter will bring a final trip moment that will mean a lot for our story. After that we get to see Emma meet Killian’s brothers and that should be fun too. Anyway, thanks to all of you for reading and I would love to hear what you think! Sending you all my best and hope you have a great rest of your weekend!

#captain swan #captain swan au #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #cs #cs au #cs fic #cs ff #cs au fic #cs au ff #cs fluff #barely angsty #cs mc au #motorcycle club au #emma swan #killian jones #cs roadtrip #cs runaways #when we collide #when we collide au #when we collide 4 #the whole storybrooke gang #ouat au #ouat mc fic

[axel-mania]

Please talk about Zack.

favorite thing about them 

If I have to choose just one it would be his humbleness, which leads him to be considerate in real life, but also has great implications for his character. Not only does it mean he’s able to identify how an ego can grow out of control and portray it suitably obnoxiously, it also means he’s happy to debase him doing ridiculous things and portray himself as completely destroyed by his opponents. Then there’s when his true humbleness even shines through in his character when he tries to downplay his accomplishments around the other Suzuki-gun members and bashfully shuts down their praise. Really love that. 

least favorite thing about them

The way his dramatic selling makes me scared for him! He goes all glassy-eyed and limp and still through his pride tries to fight the exhaustion weighing down his body, as if he can be more than the human he is with enough confidence and effort. I suppose this isn’t particularly rare for wrestlers, but the way he specifically portrays it is so striking visually. If I have to give a real dislike, it’s that he’s held onto the British Heavyweight Title for so long. It belongs in its own company, and I feel it’s kept him from being in serious contention for the IWGP belts. 

favorite line

“What’s next for Zack Sabre Jr.? Oh, bumming... I’m just going to fuck you,” said Zack, referring to Orange Cassidy, after bowling him over and saying some muffled even more NSFW things. Non-Seb readers, please watch the video! It’s always been lovely how aggressive Zack has been in getting through the message that his opponents are attractive to him, but even as a joke this is a whole new level of gay. 

brOTP

Taichi, though Best Friends are tempting. Godspeed You! Zack Emperor. is an incredible friendship to watch. They’ve apparently wasted away the nights not just dancing but doing their best to have heart-to-heart talks through the language barrier, and this sincere attempt at understanding is what I think gives them a very close and natural feeling connection. They’re always on the same page in the ring, and Taichi sincerely tries to calm Zack down, and Zack sincerely tries to promote him, and Taichi thinks Zack is the nicest foreigner he’s ever met and a true British gentleman, and the way they hug and openly consider themselves brothers, and the way they always end up talking about the same things, and the way Taichi was so possessive of Zack after the Tag League civil war match oh wait oh no-- 

OTP

I mean, we all knew where this was going. Murder besties, Zakupe, El Desperado/Zack Sabre Jr. This is my M/M OTP period, actually, but you know that too, and you’ll probably know everything I’m about to inelegantly say. I guess what’s important about this pairing at the heart of it is that Zack is sweet and naive and unaware of SZKG power dynamics enough that Despy can go to him and be supported without worrying about it being chased by pain or a put-down. From the start of their tag partnership, it was clear that Zack liked Despy, and trusted him and his instincts where others didn’t. He’s even gifted Despy a vape pen, and then there was even the vegan bagel incident. Unsurprisingly, Despy latched on and awarded Zack’s attention with devotion, promising to be there for him, rubbing his shoulders whenever they’re together, making an effort to joke with him to get through the bullshit. They stay physically close and touch each other constantly whenever they’re given the chance to appear in the same place. That certainly implies something, though we can argue about what exactly. 

Then there’s the little we know of how Zack reacted to Despy in NOAH, and the intrigue he must have felt, facing this mysterious guy whose face he can never see, who acts romantically towards him one second and then tries to injure him the next. That dissolved into the comfortable companionship they have now, but there’s no reason Zack wouldn’t still find Despy too interesting for his own good. Especially now that he can see what he looks like under the mask, lol. As you and others have pointed out, it’s important for both of them to be with someone that truly likes them and that isn’t an unattainable object to be chased, or an enemy to be destroyed. It’s their best chance at healthiness, and means they can finally have the intimacy (and handsome partner) they deserve. Two seemingly unloveable awful people choosing each other. Suzuki-gun is great at having a fierce loyalty and respect for anyone in their group, and absolute disregard for anyone outside it like they’re the scum under their shoes. And that kind of us against the world dynamic is just fucking great, tbh, especially between the two most visibly othered members of the group.

nOTP

I guess it would have to be Zack and the Boss. The Boss acts like his father more than anything, and Zack admires him like one, and there is a severe power imbalance there… the Boss is clever enough that he knows exactly what he could get away with ordering Zack to do, and that is a very wide pool of things. I’m not saying it couldn’t be written well, and in fact I’ve enjoyed fic where a younger Minoru time-travels and does things with Zack, but it’s not something I’m ever going to want to see. Maybe that’s hypocritical though because I fucking love the ship that is Taichi’s unrequited crush on the Boss lol 

random headcanon

He and his old tag partner Marty Scrull are amicable exes. They have a quiet sort of affection for each other, never intense but in a way that feels like they knew each other well once and can always rely on the other person as a comfortable place to be whenever they cross paths. It’s not just they had multiple tag team iterations, showing their relationship endured even after they stopped thinking of the two of them as the center of the (wrestling) world, but they also kissed and fell asleep on each other... But it feels like maybe Zack has evolved past Marty now, idk. 

unpopular opinion

I don’t understand why people hate him! Everything about Zack that’s supposed to be awful and obnoxious I just find funny and endearing. But then I’m broken and can’t properly react to wrestling anymore, a heel apologist, so... 

song i associate with them

You’ve made me associate Zack with Colossus by Idles. The flurry of pro-wrestling references and passion for justice in the second half definitely captures what he’s trying to do! This is actually an easy one because Zack is such a big music fan that I can also listen to anything he’s mentioned like, say, Nothing Great About Britain by slowthai, and think of him.

favorite picture of them

The beauty of his submission work + his gentleness and patience with others + striking imagery + intimacy, hands. Also the skulls and adorned hearts remind me of Despy 

#zack sabre jr #njpw

[nothingunrealistic]

oof hey i hope i'm not bothering you, and i asked jury this already (and deffo got a good answer but i need all the info i can get because i am crushingly insecure)- do you have any tips on characterizing/writing the deh characters? i struggle with it immensely and I have no idea why, and you're one of my favorite writers for this fandom. so. no pressure to respond i was just curious!

sure! the only characters i write regularly/feel confident in writing are evan, jared, and alana, so those are the characters i’ll talk about the most, but i’ll try to say something for all of them. also this will feature a good number of quotes from writers’ notes (here) and interviews because those are the main sources i draw on for characterization after, you know, actual canon

evan

Smart, sincere, and cripplinglyself-conscious, Evan prefers to hover in the background, asupporting player in his own life, too afraid to step forward into thespotlight and risk ridicule or, what might be worse, no one noticinghim at all.

this description captures a lot of the things i think are key about evan, but one big thing it’s missing is that he’s kind of an asshole. he usually has good intentions, and he tries to be inoffensive and considerate and Nice, but he sucks at that because it’s just not how he naturally is. he’s bitter and angry about a lot of things - his lack of friends, jared (ostensibly) not caring about him or taking him seriously, heidi rarely being present, and perhaps most of all, his own perception of himself as “broken” and a burden, which he genuinely believes that heidi agrees with and that everyone else would if they knew what he was truly like. he’s frequently sarcastic and occasionally pedantic (see: “president” “co-president” and “it’s sula” “what did i say?” “sulu”). but these are things he doesn’t like about himself, which is why he tries to be either Nice or invisible, especially when he feels uncomfortable. the times when he’s most comfortable acting like himself are, in my opinion, when he’s just with jared, who in turn finds it most fun to spend time with evan when he’s not putting up a front.

major pet peeves in fic: being written as a ~delicate anxious bean uwu~ or anything along those lines; dialogue with stuttering that doesn’t resemble his actual speech patterns at all; making a big deal out of him using profanity; portraying his relationship with jared as evan just letting himself get pushed around until someone (usually connor) comes in to bravely show evan that He Doesn’t Deserve That

jared

Droll and sarcastic,Jared claims to be forced by his parents to hang out with familyfriend Evan, for whom he ostensibly has nothing but disdain.Jared covers his own obvious insecurities with a well-practicedbraggadocio and a know-it-all arrogance.

I think this is the playlist that Jared puts on in the morning on the first day of school to pump himself up for the day… Ultimately he’s terrified of going back to school, but he’s trying to psych himself up. … Every one of these songs is a JAM. No ballads here. And they’re all slightly sarcastic or tongue-in-cheek songs about unrequited love. Jared can relate to that. [x]

Jared Kleinman is too cool for the music of the times. He is proudly a walking 90’s movie… but he doesn’t mind sneaking a little of his parents Manischewitz and listening to a dusty Bette Midler record. [x]

(there are like a dozen interviews with will roland that i could cite here but that’s practically a post unto itself)

the best way i can sum up all the major points of jared’s characterization is that there’s always a reason for the things he says. he doesn’t make harsh remarks to be deliberately cruel or mean; he’s either pointing out an uncomfortable but important truth, or he’s aiming to make a joke and inadvertently crossing the line. when he does make jokes, it’s often another way of delivering the truth, an attempt to get people to laugh and thereby validate that he’s clever/funny/worthy, or an effort to deflect something that makes him uncomfortable or scared. redirection, derision, and showing off are some of his major defensive tactics; he doesn’t do self-deprecation out loud, but he is, as will has said, repressed and self-hating. he and evan are similarly asshole-ish, but where evan tries to hide it, jared tries to hide behind it.

he wants people to be impressed by him in general, but he really wants evan in particular to think well of him and be his friend and openly care about him - the problem is that jared can’t bring himself to openly care about evan, because that entails emotional honesty & vulnerability that he’s just not prepared to deal with. hence their interaction on the first day of school, and then jared agreeing to help evan more and more with his increasingly complex lie despite claiming not to care. (the key word in that first quote is “ostensibly.”) when he is actually is at ease (which is pretty rare, at least in canon), he’s a bit of a drama queen, which evan may pretend to be annoyed by but quietly enjoys.

major pet peeves in fic: being written as straight and/or homophobic and/or leaping to make jokes about how evan and connor are Clearly Doing It immediately after finding out that they’re becoming friends (as if he isn’t utterly convinced that evan is 100% straight); making excessive/forced references and jokes to modern pop culture/memes (everything he shouts out in any form of canon is at least ten years old and usually decades old, and that doesn’t happen often anyway); relentlessly treating evan like shit/being incredibly domineering in their friendship; constant bickering with connor; calling evan “hansen” all the time when he only ever addresses him as “evan” (or, like, “dude” or “bro” or “son”) and even only does THAT when he’s especially emotional or letting his guard down; just generally giving him dialogue that in no way resembles his actual, very distinctive speech patterns

(i have. a lot of thoughts and feelings about jared)

alana

Alana is an incredibly genuineperson. Everything she does comes from a place of deephonesty and tremendous feeling. All of the characters inthis musical put up masks of sorts. For Alana, it’s a façadeof cheerfulness. She is always ready with a smile, a note ofencouragement. This hides the loneliness underneath. 

often prone to melodrama, high school senior Alana has few friends but lacks the self-awareness to understand why; beneath her extroverted demeanor, Alana is in fact haunted by a terrible and abiding loneliness; tired of always being an outsider, Alana seizes the death of a classmate as an opportunity finally to find a sense of belonging. [x]

Study break! … Alana spend a lot of time in the books. This playlist allows her to either kick back, have a lip sync battle, or a jam session. … We have classic up beats like ‘Uptown Funk’ by Bruno Mars cause she loves to dance and be silly. She’s also a romantic. Girl reads Jane Austen, so a nice healthy batch of love songs to daydream to. She’s also a feminist! So naturally Beyoncé has the perfect perfect pump up jams for the feminist in us all.

alana has Big Feelings, and they drive all her actions. she wants to achieve great things and succeed in life, yes, but more importantly, she wants to help people and make the world a better place. when she commits to a course of action, it’s because she truly believes that it’s the right or most beneficial thing to do in the end, even if the means themselves are questionable. much like jared, she struggles with vulnerability and connection with other people, and often tries to form connections with other people by making herself seem more impressive, but unlike jared, she also tries to build up and support other people, rather than tearing them down. she’s also committed to supporting Truth in a general sense, and struggles when this comes into conflict with Doing The Right Thing. this is especially obvious after good for you, when she resigns herself to continuing the fundraiser even though she’s certain it’s based on a lie.

all of this makes alana seem incredibly serious, but that’s not the entire picture. she strives to be upbeat and optimistic, and even when she’s not trying, she loves to have fun! she likes to be silly and tell jokes and laugh at other people’s jokes and daydream about finding a great romance! she thought “fuck finn” was the height of comedy! she’s not a killjoy!

i also hold with kristolyn lloyd’s theory that alana was very close with her grandmother and struggled with feeling unable/not allowed to openly grieve her death, or to express any kind of loneliness or other strong negative emotion. however, i do not hold with kristolyn’s theory that alana had a crush on connor, because alana is a lesbian.

major pet peeves in fic: being written as pedantic and joyless; overly formal dialogue (she’s perfectly capable of using colloquialisms and slang) in which she is never sarcastic, ever (she absolutely can be when she’s frustrated) 

zoe

a sensitive, sophisticated high school junior; cool without realizing it, Zoe could care less about the status games and popularity rites of high school; funny and bright, she has grown up in the long shadow cast by her volatile older brother, Connor, tyrannized along with the rest of her family by his out-of-control behavior; few rooms are as familiar to her as the inside of a family therapist’s office; Zoe compensates for her brother’s darkness by striving to be warm, nice to everyone, the kind of person who goes out of her way to learn the names of the kids who sit by themselves at lunch; she feels a terrible ambivalence over her brother’s death, finding it difficult to forgive him for all he did, and at the same time forgive that part of herself that feels nothing but relief in the fact that he’s gone.

this sums up just about everything i could say, but i will add: the disembodied voice calling zoe a “stuck-up bitch” during ywbf reprise is NOT a voice you’re supposed to agree with.

major pet peeves: anything that states/suggest that zoe is a bitch; those connor/evan fix-it fics with background zoe/alana where the premise of zoe and alana’s relationship is “they’ve actually been best friends this whole time!!” even though this contradicts canon on multiple levels

connor

An angry, disaffectedloner, Connor has been a troubled kid for as long as anyone canremember, an enigma and a source of endless consternation to hislong-suffering parents and sister.

i honestly don’t have much to say about connor, because i don’t think about him very often, but i will say that:

- if your portrayal of him can be described as “edgy,” you’re probably doing something wrong. he’s just as awkward and anxious as evan, it just manifests very differently

- him addressing evan as “hansen” all the time is admittedly much more plausible than jared doing it, but still just as annoying

heidi

Overworkedand stretched too thin, Heidi loves her son fiercely, but fears theyhave begun to grow apart. She is prepared to do anything to repairthe damage.

heidi’s torn between trying to connect with evan and trying to provide a better life for him, because for her, achieving the latter currently requires spending too many hours away from home to really achieve the former. that’s why she’s so upset and demands to know what’s going on in evan’s life when he seems to be acting out of character and doing things she doesn’t expect him to do - she feels she’s being left out of the loop. much like alana, she strives for optimism, trying to find the bright side of any situation. and, as steven levenson pointed out in the annotated script (regarding the line about fabulous tips that evan’s stepmother may or may not have made from cocktail waitressing), she doesn’t have a fully developed sense of healthy boundaries, which is an interesting nuance that tends to get lost in fics that flatten her out into a generic Cool Mom. she’s trying to raise a teenager while not wanting to fully grow up herself.

cynthia

To Evan, she seems to be the perfect mother, nurturing, available,and willing to talk about anything. To her own children, it’s a bitmore complicated.

evan idealizes all the murphys, and cynthia is no exception. she tries her hardest to be a good and accessible mother, but she’s deeply dissatisfied with being just a mother. she works to support and empathize with connor, and to remember him positively after his death, but she frequently neglects and minimizes zoe and her problems in the process.  

larry

Though often tense and taciturn, Larry shows a different face tothe world, representing for Evan the dad he always wished for:strong, confident, and, more than anything, reliable, someone to becounted on.

is larry going to call his children slurs or disown them/kick them out of the house for being lgbt? no. is he going to research How To Interact With Your LGBT Child and drive connor and zoe to the local pride parade? also no. the once-popular (and possibly still popular?) characterization of him as a demon straight from the ninth circle of hell is just as inaccurate as evan’s perception of him as the World’s Greatest Dad.

i hope this helps! and thank you for asking - i really enjoyed answering this, and i’d be happy to expand on most of these points if you want.

#inbox #thecicadasong #dear evan hansen #evan hansen #jared kleinman #alana beck #zoe murphy #connor murphy #heidi hansen #cynthia murphy #larry murphy #sometimes i write

[foxydivaxx]

Bad Blood Chapter 1

Originally, this was meant to be connected to Young Justice: Demigods Arising but I have decided to tweak it a bit and make it the true Demigods Arising story of sorts. This is connected to the Osiris fic and whilst it is kinda Cassie-centric, it also focuses on other characters too. 

"Any news about Cassie?"

"Nah. No one has found her yet."

Tim sighs. It has been a month since Cassie disappeared after her humiliating defeat to Vanessa for the Wonder Girl title. Part of her regrets that decision to have said duel take place. She made that decision not considering what Cassie was going through then. The poor girl lost her then boyfriend Conner Kent and later got dumped by him. Sure, Conner returned but their relationship soon turned toxic to the point where the two engaged in a physical altercation in the School Hall that caused Cassie to get suspended for two weeks. As a result of this, Diana decided to punish her not taking into consideration Cassie’s physical and mental exhaustion at that point. According to Tatiana, Cassie overtrained herself and that led to Cassie’s humiliating defeat.

And now it is too late, Cassie has gone and would never return and if she ever returns, the girl would have joined the Dark Side which should not surprise anyone given her heritage and the negative influence of people like Ares. As if that wasn't bad enough, Cassie's younger twin sister Tatiana also followed suit. 

Adding more to the Cassie mystery is that she immediately deleted all her social media accounts on the same day as her defeat. That alone alarmed everyone as it is a well-known fact that Cassie loved taking selfies and playing around on social media and often talks to fans on there. But now that her presence is no longer felt, many began to panic, feeling that the poor girl might have committed suicide. This naturally led to the #JusticeForCassie campaign and #WonderWomanCancelled movement.

Please let Cassie not be dead.

Meanwhile in her room, Barbara was going through some files that she managed to dig up about HIVE case. So far she had managed to find some leads. Heck she can even say that she is far more competent and smarter than the entire Team as they are all a bunch of little kids. What was Batman thinking of putting little kids on a superhero team? Ok they are young kids, but they still could qualify for a wannabe superhero team since they all wear stupid outlandish costumes and use silly codenames, themselves and the so-called adults that call themselves Justice League. Seriously, what the fuck is that fucked up shit? Worst of the bunch as far as she is concerned is none other than Wonder Woman's little sidekick Cassie Sandsmark better known as Wonder Girl.

That girl is such a tragic trainwreck and a bitch. What did Tim and Conner ever see in her? What really pisses her off about the brat is that the girl reminds her of the stupid alien that Dick dated years ago. What was her name again? Oh yes Starfire. More like Hofire. Both of them are disgustingly beautiful. Starfire is a bit better because at least she can kick some ass. Cassie is completely useless that one forgets that she is supposed to be a fucking demigoddess yet someone like Damian can whoop her ass. She should even be able to go toe to toe with Supergirl and give her a nasty beatdown but nope, she gets her ass handed to her. Plus she dared to steal her Dickie from her.

Where did Diana find this child again? Oh yes, Diana did not find her instead the child fucking inserted herself into the Wonder Woman narrative just like Damian forced his way into the Robin title and never once earned nor deserved a single shit till recently. When will those brats learn? No wonder some people wished for Vanessa to take over as Wonder Girl. Ironically said girl is now Wonder Girl now how hilarious.

And alas, poor Cassie has disappeared and is nowhere to be seen. Well GOOD FUCKING RIDDANCE! Barbara cackles evilly as she still plays around on her system.

Meanwhile at Gateway city, Tatiana was in her room with tears in her eyes whilst Donna comforts her. Cassie disappeared immediately after that defeat. One could understand why because that sort of defeat is very humiliating especially when the very girl that caused most of the unneeded drama in your life is responsible for it.

Making matters worse is the fact that many thought that Cassie was an irresponsible person and therefore unworthy to be Wonder Girl. This has been an ongoing debate for the past couple years. Sure Cassie has a temper but she can actually control said temper for the most part. The only reason that said rage has become more pronounced is as a result of Ares’ evil manipulation of his sister; something Diana and Zeus himself warned Cassie about. 

Cassie naturally took the bait since she had lost her powers during that time, not like anyone could blame her. Still the fact that many people bashed her for this, Diana included was horrible. Now after years of hypocrisy on the side of the heroes, no one should be surprised if Cassie suddenly and openly denounces them and exposes all their secrets or even goes all Superboy Prime on them or worse commit suicide.

Donna sighed. Sure Cassie has some shortcomings but Diana herself is a hypocrite, in fact everyone has been hypocritical when it comes to Cassie. A lot of the criticism being leveled upon the girl might as well be applied to other heroes as well like Conner or Tim for instance.

Ironically said hypocrisy has been thrown at Amon aka Osiris several times which is why said boy has distanced himself from the superhero community recently. Black Adam openly lambasted the League and everyone else for that and rightfully so. 

I hope you find happiness and peace Cassie. 

Just then Donna’s phone rings. She checks the phone and discovers that it is Kori calling her. She then answers the call. “Hi Kori.”

“Donna....you have to come down here quick!!”

A couple miles in New York, Cassie is standing on top of a rooftop, preparing to throw herself down and commit suicide. Now one would find it laughable since she is meant to be a demigoddess, until they realize one disturbing detailing: Cassie lost her powers yet again during the duel and has remained powerless ever since.

The rest of the Team bursts through the door. “CASSIE DON’T!!” Conner shouts. Cassie turns around with tears in her eyes. The others begin to feel guilty for making her feel that way.

“There is nothing left for me here. You have all made it clear that I do not belong here. So why waste my time when I can just elsewhere and find peace. Heck even Hell is more peaceful than here. I cannot stay with the gods because of they are going through their own drama and are killing each other anyway.” 

She takes a couple steps back. “Cassie I understand why you are mad at us and you have every right to hate us. But I want you to know that there are people that still love you regardless.” Kori says in the most gentle way possible.

It was at that moment that Cassie literally explodes. “LIES!! PURE UTTER LIES!! IF YOU ALL REALLY CARED, YOU WOULD HAVE ALLOWED ME TO PROPERLY EXPLAINED MYSELF!! YOU WOULD NOT HAVE ENCOURAGED TIM OR ANYONE TO BE ABUSIVE TO ME!!! YOU WOULD HAVE STOPPED BABS WHEN YOU SPREAD HER FILTHY GOSSIP ABOUT ME AND ALL OF YOU JOINED IN TO SLUTSHAME ME FOR YOUR PLEASURE!! YOU ARE AS BAD AS THE MEDIA!! PURE UTTER HYPOCRITES WHO ONLY CARE ABOUT HOOTING THEIR HORNS!! NOW I CAN SEE WHY PEOPLE LIKE JASON TURNED THEIR BACKS ON HUMANITY AND CHOSE TO DO HARDCORE JUSTICE!! YOU MOTHERFUCKERS ARE NOT SO DIFFERENT FROM THE VERY FOOLS WE HAVE BEEN FIGHTING FROM YEARS!!”

Everyone keeps quiet. Cassie clearly had been waiting for this moment and she has now gotten an audience. “Oh and speaking of failures, how many times have we been supposedly, not I used supposedly in quotation marks here because that shows how stupid you all are, were ahead of the bad guys only for them to outsmart us and somehow win?”

Dick and Kaldur exchange looks. “You know, had it not been for my father, I would have rotted in jail. Oh and special shoutout to the Black Adam family, the only family that ever truly cared about me. Plus of course Donna and Tatiana. The rest of you can go fuck yourselves and leave me be!!” She turns her back to them and ignores them as she walks over to the edge.

“Cassie wait...”

She stops and turns around as Vanessa walks in. “Cassie, listen I know you are mad. If you want to lash out. Take it out on me.” she says calmly, hands raised. Before anyone could say anything, Cassie stomps towards her so-called rival and aims a punch at Vanessa who does nothing to stop her.

Fortunately for her, Cassie stops mid-punch and drops to her knees and begins to break down in tears. Vanessa bends down and hugs her predecessor. “Listen Cass. No matter what anyone else says, you will always be Wonder Girl. In fact you are way better than I am. I do not like the great divide that Diana has created. There are other ways this could have been done.” she says. Cassie simply sobs, feeling very bad for lashing out.

“I...I’m so sorry...”

Vanessa smiles softly. “You do not have to apologise. We are both victims in this. Besides, I told Diana that I quit.” Cassie stares at her in disbelief. ”You did not have to.”

“Yet I did.”

Cassie shakes her head. “No. You remain Wonder Girl.” Cassie then smiles. “Besides, you earned it anyways.” Vanessa giggles and hugs her back. Everyone heaves a sigh of relief.

Osiris who had just arrived makes a slow descent next to them. “Cass, I understand you hate everyone and whatnot but if you throw yourself down there, chances are you might end up worse than Todd the moment they choose to bring you back from the dead. Or if you choose down a dark path now, you might end up the way Adam did years ago.”

The girl simply nods. “ I might as well go clear my mind of things for a while.”

He comes closer to her. “You know, you could have simply asked and I would gladly take you home with me so that you can get some breathing space since quite frankly, you need some of that.’ She rolls her eyes. “Fine. Let’s go.’ She wraps her arms around his neck with him wrapping his arms aorund her securely and together they fly away.

“Wait....that was it?“ says Garfield, earning a smack across the head from Raven. “Oww!!” he grumbles. Tim meanwhile stares up at the sky with jealousy in his eyes which is funny considering his relationship with Stephanie. 

So she has choosen him hm? This whole shit was a setup to make that announcement.

#cassie sandsmark #osiris #amon tomaz #young justice #conner kent #kon-el #superboy #dick grayson #nightwing #barbara gordon #rose wilson #donna troy #wonder girl #Wonder Woman #Diana Prince #batman #bruce wayne #robin #Damian Wayne #tim drake #jason todd #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #barry allen #bart allen #impulse #flash #kid flash #wally west #teen titans

[spinnerprincess]

hmmmmm thought: the spicy combination of irresponsible creators and social media fucked with fandom and created this virulent form of anti-shipping? long post

Consider:

Show creators, comic writers, people in charge of popular content of all sorts join Twitter and other social media, making it easy for there to be cross-communication between creators and fandom. This was possible before but not common until recently

I’m going to use Voltron as an example but there are many others. Basically this show gets big and popular and, in a way that would not have been possible previously, so do its writers and artists etc. They are not only known and popular, but accessible, and talk about their work on the show in public social media spaces

Fandom has often expressed to a small degree “Gosh I hope my ship becomes canon” but that wasn’t always the focus. Prior to fandoms like this, imagining that your ship would become canon was wishful thinking for anything short of a YA love triangle, because everything else was super uncertain

But more importantly: fans had little to no influence. When say Parks and Rec was being created, sure, fandom existed, but no big director was thinking, “hmm, there seem to be a lot of Leslie/Ann shippers, maybe we should change to that”. Which they wouldn’t have anyway because no way would NBC have dared at the time (or any time soon tbh), but the point is, zero (0) big executives of shows gave a fuck about fandom and just focused on a combination of the creators’ stories and what would keep people watching

Then creators like Voltron’s come in and suddenly fandom has influence. Or the illusion of it, anyway. I mean, these creators are right here, visible, talking openly, and at any point someone can send a tweet and say “hey make my ship canon”

I don’t think up until this point things are completely terrible, but this is where you start factoring in irresponsible creators. When they start reaching out and acting like fandom plays a part in their decision making, it doesn’t even matter at that point whether or not that’s the truth. Fandom starts to believe that this is the case. Artists make ship art, creators tweet out hints about what’s to come or what relationships they like, they retweet things.

This is, to me, irresponsible behavior, when the creator gets too close to the fandom like this. It’s too easy for them to jerk around emotions by teasing about topics fans are deeply invested in. It’s too easy for them to make a mistake and say something that ruins someone’s ability to claim death of the author and enjoy the material. They can make excuses for their shows flaws and, worse, try to argue with people on the internet when they disagree with them. Those people then too easily get hate-bombed by fans of the creator. In some cases, creators will become deaf to important criticism because they’re too busy ignoring all criticism, being too used to receiving unfair hatred. 

I someday imagine being a creator myself and I think I would have to restrain myself heavily, because I don’t want to fall into these same traps. I would rather engage with fandom rarely or not at all, so that I might listen more closely to the real criticism and take it into consideration and improve as a writer and a person, and keep from harming the people who most love what I can do. But, back to the main point.

When fandom believes that they have influence over canon, you get the situation we’re in now. For this portion of young fandom that has grown up in this environment, shipping can become canon at any time. They might think, “If I shout and scream loud enough about how much I love this pairing, the creator will hear me and it will happen.” 

Fandom wars have become more literal, because to some extent, there really is a war going on, one for the attention of the creators. It spurs hatred towards other ships, and people search for ways to tear them down, finding the tiniest, most hint of problematic chunks as ways to disprove their validity. There’s an element of purity/problematic culture in this as well, where because ships are things people actually want to happen, and actively work to make happen, suddenly if you’re shipping a ship with even a minor age difference, there’s a certain logic of, “this person wants this an age difference ship to be portrayed on TV where kids can see it!!! they’re going to get kids hurt!!!!”

And that’s ridiculous. Sometimes people ship things that aren’t healthy, sometimes people ship things that don’t make sense. Sometimes people ship things that would be horrible in real life, but are fun for them to think of in fiction, or helping them to work through a trauma, and they appropriately tag and content warn everything so nobody who finds that content horrifying has to see it. Sometimes people ship even a minor age difference in the sense of “oh but like, not right NOW, I don’t even want them to get together until they’re both like 5-10 years older!” Sometimes I even ship things where I explicitly don’t want them to be canon! (I’ve had too many things become canon and yet the media itself disappoints me greatly...)

Shipping isn’t an aspirational thing, it’s not something that means “I think this is romantic” or “this is okay in real life” or even just “I actively want my show/book/media/canon to get these people together.” It doesn’t mean any of those, it just means, “I find this relationship interesting.”

But now, in a world where these ships can become canon (but probably not really), just by making enough art or fic (still no, but they want us to believe it can because then they get attention and sales), do you see how there’s pressure for shipping to take on that new meaning? 

Hell, it’s even just true for characters now. Of course “if you like x character, you’re wrong” is going to become an outlook if you associate liking a character with thinking that character is inherently good or worth showing to people all the time. (Oh yeah - you can like a character and acknowledge that they’re bad. In fact, please do. You’re going to drive everybody up a wall if you like a character and never admit to those flaws.)

The idea that ships are INTENDED to become something real and presented to the whole audience is not only wrong, but often kind of gross. Fandom can’t exist healthily in an environment where fanworks are now participation in some kind of fandom hunger games where everybody except the media creators loses. Fanworks need to exist for themselves, for the sheer joy in saying, “I’m interested in this thing,” regardless of the material that inspired them. 

So these are the take-aways for me:

Public media creators who engage heavily with the fandom, tease it and play with their hopes, are acting irresponsibly. I put more of the blame on them than on fandom in some ways, especially for younger fans just experiencing fandom for the first time. The rest of these tips are aimed at fans because I strongly doubt big media creators are reading this post, and any tips I have for them about this would be pointless.

Tagging content and putting warnings on it is, as always, vitally important. Not promoting unhealthy behavior is also important, but can live side-by-side with content that includes it. Fandom creators who fail to do this are irresponsible and/or deliberately harming people and kids especially.

Hey: don’t draw child porn! Thanks! The point above is not about that though. 

Fans need to keep in mind that shipping doesn’t mean making something canon, or at least, doesn’t only mean it, and thinking that it does makes it easy for people to send hate, cause trouble, encourage bullying, etc. 

Your ship can co-exist with other people’s ships. It’s okay to believe yours is the best, but you don’t have to do so by putting other ships down. 

Whether or not your ship becomes canon really isn’t up to you. Please keep this in mind when creating fanworks and don’t get too invested in something that might not happen, or might happen but not in the way you want it to. Watch out for ways that media creators might be stringing you along. 

[kv-r18-fics]

Experimentation Sin

This is a fairly recent story, felt like writing a fic on first time experimentation - kinda have them tread on the first steps of intimacy. Hope you all like it!

The idea of romance was a foreign thing, to do something that was never once experienced in one’s life felt like some sort of territory to be wary of treading. Isaac and Rachel never knew what love felt like, it even repulsed Zack to some extent. Yet, during their time together, even on the run, there was always this attraction that drew them together.

 They weren’t sure to say they were dating, but they knew what they had was something beyond their normal bond. Zack and Ray often shared hug, just to feel that warm feeling of acceptance and security, then there was the kisses that followed after. Their very first one was very shy and impulsive, Ray was always curious to know what it felt like to kiss him, she even had to ask permission to let her give it a small try.

 “Zack?”

 “Mh?” Zack grunted.

 “...Can I do something really quick?”

 “Like what? Spit it out,” Zack said.

 “I’d like to kiss you.”

 Isaac raised a brow, while also filling up with his feeling of uncertain nervousness. Rachel’s kissed him plenty on the cheek or forehead, and every time it sent his mind into a spiral. He doesn’t know if he wants to be put in that state of confusion again.

 “W-What for?”

 Rachel’s face turned a slight shade of red, he could see her nibbling at her bottom lip, with her own look of unease to say the answer. He grumbled to himself, it’s only a temporary feeling, just temporary, and humor her.

 “Knock yerself out…”

 He really didn’t know what to expect when he felt a meeting of lips instead, that state of confusion was more of a state of inner chaos and heat. Isaac was internally screaming in his head, but, at the same time, there was this lingering pleasantness. Is he liking it? As soon as Ray pulled back, he could see this adorably sheepish, yet pleased expression on Ray’s face. It was enough to make Zack’s cold heart flutter.

 “...Hey...do it again…”

 That’s how it all started, just a simple moment of selfish experimentation, and now he’s welcoming Ray’s advances openly, while giving her a share of his own. Zack wasn’t too much of a thinker, but from the years he’s spent observing couples, both in the streets on on TV, kissing was a sign of affection and desire - love, something he abhorred at first. With Ray though, it didn’t seem too bad, he actually liked the thought that someone adored him enough to engage in such an act. Honestly, he’s been feeling that pulling force of attraction towards Ray as well, he was just too pig-headed to really act on it. Ray was a grown woman now, there was no denying that Isaac did have his share of second glances to her matured form, he just never had that drive to act out his inner thoughts in the most appropriate way.

 Kisses started off as a simple peck at first, then over time it kept growing into something more, Zack found it the most pleasant to open Ray’s lips a little more, sometimes he’d be a little more daring and invade her mouth his his tongue.

 “M-Mhh!” Ray gasped, before pulling away.

 Her face was flushed, and she covered her mouth in surprise.

 “What’s wrong? Didn’t like it?”

 Rachel was unsure, it was different, intrusive, but she didn’t hate it.

 “It’s just...it’s different,” Ray muttered.

 “I can stop, if ya’ don’t want me doin’ it anymore…”

 She tightened her lips a little, Ray was unsure at first, but Zack seemed to be enjoying himself in the middle of their kiss - at least he was considerate on how Ray felt about it.

 “L-Let’s try again...just...give me a moment to adjust…” Ray stuttered.

 “...Then how about you make the first move…” Zack said, inching closer to Ray.

 He was giving her the control, her heart fluttered within her chest as the distance between them began to close even more. Soon, their lips met again, a simple lock to start, then progressed into something deeper yet again. Zack took the approach to part Ray’s lips, but he allowed the woman to invite herself in. With her heart pacing hard within her chest, she summed up the courage to start the exploration, even Zack flinched a little from her intrusion. It was something different between them, but also alluring, they’re both sampling a taste of each other for the first time, and it was intoxicating. To Zack, Ray tasted sweet to him, and to Rachel, Zack had a more wild flavor, but as their tongues met, it became a whole taste on its own.

 Ray was compelled to hum out a sound, something that hinted satisfaction as they continued their moment of invasion. Isaac could feel Rachel dig her fingers through his hair, and pull him much closer, apparently she liked what they were doing much more than she’d thought. Amused by this, he wrapped his arms around her as they continued their sultry liplock.

 Honestly, after that, Zack and Ray couldn’t tell if that step was a good thing or bad thing. It felt really nice, pleasing, really, but the atmosphere felt helluva lot different after each moment of kisses. They both had this gleam in their eyes, along with a growing heat between them. A heavy air hung around them as the couple felt this sense of tension lingering.

 It wasn’t just kisses that added to the tension, but how they lived together in general. Aside from the occasional glances at Ray’s newly shaped feminine form, there was also that moment of comfort they had for one another, they’ve shared a bed together so often that personal space became almost absent between them. It had become common practice that the two would casually dress for the day with the other in the same room, neither one would make any comments about their appearance, to them, it was just the norm, even going as far as to toss each other the clothing they needed to dress in. That slowly started to change as well, with more gazes being exchanged towards one another, Zack’s sculpted abs were Ray’s immediate attention grabber, while Zack often caught himself ogling at Ray’s curvy form.

 There was a thought in the back of their minds to explore more of it, yet they did nothing, which only piled on that growing tension.

 Then, there was the moment of taking a shower. The place they called home didn’t have the best water heater in the world, hot water always seemed to last for one person, while the other had to wait for a long time for the hot water to return - it was very aggravating. In the past, sharing a shower together was something Zack strongly opposed to, aside from being self-conscious, the thought about being naked right in front of her was an immediate nope. Rachel did share the same sentiment, but she would trade comfort for the convenience, it just wasn’t fair to let one sit out for a prolonged period just for something as basic as a shower.

 First time showering, Isaac refused to undress completely, he’d shower with his underwear on, while also keeping his back facing Ray, while she treated showering like another moment of bathing. However, Zack was first to leave the tub the moment he’d washed enough.

 The next few times, he did attempt to shower like normal, but lost the nerve midway of undressing.

 ‘Nope, fuck this shit, can’t do it. Not with her around.’

 The tenth time, Isaac finally summed up the ‘okay, fuck it’ mentality and tossed his undergarment off before he could chicken out again. He was completely flustered though, tempted to jump out of the tub and just let Ray have the shower all to herself. When Ray would try to turn and glance behind her, Zack would quickly bark at her to keep her eyes elsewhere.

 Twentieth time, he was slowly growing more comfortable to this situation, all they’re doing is just bathing, that’s all they’ve been doing. He’s been feeling heavy tension in the air for a while, but most of all he’s never really had any other thoughts prod his mind like he’d feared. It’s just Ray, everyone wasn’t born with clothes on their backs, and all she’s ever done was treat this like any other shower, maybe he should too.

 So, he began to shyly turn around.

 “I thought you didn’t want me to look,” Ray blankly said.

 “W-we’re just bathing, that’s fucking it,” Zack snapped in a flustered tone, “I’ll turn back around.”

 “No, you don’t have to, I’m not trying to antagonize you,” Ray replied, “you’re right, we’re just taking a shower.”

 She wanted to prove that she wasn’t scared of having him within a close vicinity of her, at her most vulnerable state, but as she turned around, blood quickly escaped Zack’s nose and his back was facing her again, followed by frustrated swears.

 “Fucking dammit! Shit! Shiiiiit!”

 Ray will have to admit, seeing Zack act so uncharacteristically sheepish was a little endearing. She decided to lessen Zack’s frustration by bringing a lathered shower puff up and scrubbing soap on the man’s skin. Isaac flinched from the touch, and glanced from the corner of his eye. Like before, she was just treating this like another session of bathing, only giving Zack a hand at it.

 The next few times, the two were adjusted to showering together. Like dressing in front of each other, it felt normal to do now, they weren’t making any advances whatsoever. Plus, having Zack’s height was an advantage when it came to harder to reach spots, even grabbing the showerhead when she needed it most.

 When the day came where the two finally kissed was when a simple shower was changing. It took longer this time, even to the point where the hot water would run out, Ray just couldn’t stop staring at Zack’s physique, while Zack’s eyes focused on Rachel’s breasts. They weren’t as voluptuous compared to most women, but he still found it appealing on Ray. Zack’s muscles were Rachel’s main focus, the firmness glistening underneath the water droplets always tempted her to just run her fingers across the rows of muscle.

  The tension was growing again.

 The next following day, Isaac was laying in bed, staring at Ray again as she got dressed for the day. He watched her slip out of her nightgown, and clip on a bra before grabbing a shirt to put on. Zack’s eyes wandered to Ray’s buttocks, the smooth curvature of it sent his heart racing, and his hand subconsciously reached up to have a feel. Rachel seemed to sense his presence and glanced back, watching him freeze in place.

 “Is something wrong?”

 Isaac almost bit his tongue for a moment, then cleared his throat for a moment, “I...I just wanted a kiss, that’s all…”

 Rachel faintly blushed, but she’d never pass up on the opportunity to lock lips with the man she felt deep adoration for, she walked over to the bed Isaac casually laid on, and hovered her body over his to bring herself down for a kiss. Zack could feel the warm plushness of Rachel’s lips against his, he hummed out a pleased sigh, and allowed himself to part his lips for her, inviting Ray to deepen the kiss as she pleased. The woman’s heart fluttered, and eagerly accepted his silent invitation. Once the tongues met, Zack’s hands coiled around the woman and pulled her closer. Rachel was suddenly on top of Isaac, one hand caressed her back, while the other travelled further. As his fingers grazed her bottom, she inhaled a sharp gasp before pulling back.

 “Zack…” she murmured.

 He had that gleam again, one that screamed that he wanted to kiss her again, and see how much further he was willing to go. Rachel felt heat gather in her cheeks, her heart racing within her bosom, as she continued to stare into those needy bi-colored eyes of his. Her hands caressed the man’s face as temptation to kiss him again was overcoming her sense of thought. Then she felt his hand at her buttock again, making goosebumps rise in her skin, Ray felt a tingle crawl along her spine, along with a feeling that maybe she was going a little too far with this. She was almost straddling the man’s hips.

 “I…” she stuttered, “I still need to get dressed, Zack…”

 Zack pouted, even letting out a slight huff of disappointment, but he relented. Rachel felt the man drop his hands down to his sides to let her go. Rachel did feel a little guilty to abruptly end things, but right now, she was feeling a heavy weight on her, that sense of uncertainty if she acted out on such a risque action. She leaned down to give Zack’s neck a tender smooch, showing that she wasn’t turned away from Zack’s actions, but it was clear she did need a moment to think. Perhaps Isaac needed a moment as well, he was feeling a welling heat growing at his hips, along with an uncomfortable snugness. He’s had his share of morning wood before, but rarely has he felt such an odd stir within his loins.

 To hold Ray, and to run his fingers along her skin, it was filling Zack’s head with many thoughts. Rachel’s mind swirled around the similar subject, even as she tried to go about her day, her mind just kept replaying so many moments - their steamy kisses, staring at Zack’s body in the shower, and how Zack’s touches on her rump sent her heart fluttering wildly.

 Rachel was well aware of the situation, her body was starting to tick for an attempt at intimacy, the bond they shared had grown significantly, that it had already come to this level. Still, she wasn’t sure if she was ready for this sort of thing - what if she didn’t like it...what if she did like it? Ray couldn’t stop blushing, along with other strange sensations coursing through her body. Her body couldn’t decide if she was feeling hot, tingly, or excited, it just all mixed in some wild chaos. Zack had his own share of inner conflict going on, he had been feeling hard for a while, and ignoring it agitated him, just thinking about Rachel only added on to his frustration. Erections always went away when he ignored them, but why was this one putting up a bigger fight against his will? He groaned as he dragged himself to the shower to run his body under cold water.

 That feeling of inner struggle culminated in the atmosphere, it was weighing heavily everywhere, that strong tension growing more and more between the two. It was like a dam trying to hold its store of water, but everything holding the foundation was crumbling.

 The couple kept a distance from one another for a while, who knows what could’ve happened if they stayed in a close distance with desirous vibes continuing to linger about?

 They couldn’t stay apart for very long though, come night time, they had to be close together again. Isaac’s back was facing her in the shower again, while Ray nervously washed her own body. She couldn’t stop shaking, like every touch she made to run soap along her skin was giving her goosebumps. Zack tried his damndest to shrug off all thoughts as well, but the need to glance back at Ray was too difficult to ignore. He’d tilt his head just a little bit to glance at her from the corner of his eye, he’s admired the shape of her body for a while, seen her nude form a couple times, but he’s actually noticing it.

 “Yer’ shakin’ like a leaf...is the water too cold?” Zack mumbled.

 Rachel flinched for a moment in surprise, “No, i-it’s fine...I just can’t stop trembling…”

 Zack raised a brow, he was unsure as to why Ray kept shaking, he could even spot the goosebumps lining her fair skin. He reluctantly turned himself around, and placed his hands at her shoulders, the trembling only increased.

 “Zack…” Ray whimpered.

 Her voice, it was vulnerable just like in the morning, as he ran his fingers along her in an exploring touch.

 “You scared?”

 Rachel quickly shook her head, sensations from Zack’s fingers was like electricity shooting through her right now, and her legs wouldn’t stop squirming. Isaac couldn’t ignore how fidgety the woman was, something was on her mind, and he could sense it. Ray felt the man wrap his arms around her frame, and she locked up. Zack buried his face in the woman’s neck for a moment, he could feel Ray’s rapid heartbeat, along with faint whimpers.

 “Relax,” he whispered.

 The woman tried to take a couple deep breaths, as she watched Zack reach for the soap they commonly used. He lathered his hands and ran them along her shoulders to bathe her like they normally did, this did ease Rachel’s mind a little and encouraged her to face him again. Ray glanced up at the man, looking past his burn scars patched upon his body, and seeing how attractive he really was. Her heart fluttered again, and felt the man’s hands continue to lather her supple skin. Her legs squirmed once more, getting that feeling of chaotic sensations coursing through her again, the mixture of growing heat and tingling. Soon, she was bringing her own hands up to caress at Zack’s pecs. Isaac himself was getting that odd nagging feeling between his legs, just like earlier this morning, he knew he was going to get hard eventually, and there was no way to hide it.

 Their touches were tender, but also desirous, like any moment of pulling away would make them crave for more of that sensation. As Isaac continued to run his hands along Ray’s shoulders, his eyes travelled back to her breasts, watching every droplet of water trickle from the curved shape of her bosoms, some of them dripping off the obvious hardened buds. His hands began to slide further down, until they were eventually cupping the woman’s breasts. Ray’s breathing was growing heavy, she was feeling that odd weight on her yet again, that uncertainty. She tightened her lips as she brought her hands up to grasp Zack’s wrists - was she going to stop him again?

 To his surprise, she was motioning him how she wanted him to fondle her bosoms, most of his fingers feeling at her soft skin, while the thumbs were planted against her hard nipples. Now Isaac was the one huffing out hot puffs of air, the heat within his groin was growing, while his thumbs gently rolled against Ray’s hard buds.

 “M...mmh!”

 Those vulnerable whimpers again, and she invited him to make her emit a sound, Isaac licked his lips as his digits rolled against her nipples. Ray was trembling again, her legs threatening to buckle from the strange sensations she was feeling in her thighs. Zack glanced downward, watching her legs quake, he knew she’ll collapse if he continued.

 Before they both knew it, they were both sitting there on the tiled floor of their shower, having that longing look in their eyes like they had prior. That continued building of tension swarmed around them, the situation they were in right now screamed ‘now or never’, and it was obvious that they wanted it now. Zack placed his hands on Ray’s legs, then gently proceeded to open them, revealing what was making her fidget so much.

 Her womanhood was flushed, and he could feel a kind of heat coming off from it. Ray’s face was turning a deeper shade of red, just feeling Zack’s eyes stare right between her legs was making her all kinds of flustered.

 “D-Don’t look, it’s embarrassing…”

 “Nah, don’t give me that…” Zack muttered, then heard her let out an uneasy whimper, “Look at me, Ray...my own body is actin’ all kinds of weird…”

 Rachel saw Zack sit up for a moment, her eyes trailed down from Zack’s pecs, to his abs, then to his hips. From there, she could see his member - she’s seen it a couple times from their previous times bathing, but never in this state. It was standing erect, much larger in appearance than in its natural state. Rachel blushed even harder as she stared at it, almost intimidated just from how large it could be.

 “We’ve been drivin’ each other fuckin’ crazy...so, what are we gonna do about it?” Zack murmured.

 Ray didn’t even know the answer to that, her body screamed for intimacy, craved Zack’s touches, but she was nervous of the full act of sex itself. Perhaps like with how things occurred during their growing bond, the progression of their kisses, this could be done in steps as well until they were both comfortable. Rachel swallowed hard as she opened her legs a little more to welcome him.

 “...Your touches were feeling really nice…” Ray prattled, “we can start with that…”

 Zack raised a brow, she did squirm an awful lot when he was fondling Ray’s breasts, if just a simple touch was enough to make her tremble, then maybe he could start things off with just that. His odd-eyed gaze stared at every detail of Ray’s body, from her porcelain colored skin, her feminine curves, her petite breasts, all the way to her rosy hips. He couldn’t stop looking at Ray’s sex, it’s the first time he’s really focused this part of her body, and it was making the heat grow in his loins. If Ray liked Zack’s touches so much, then how would she react if they moved lower.

 Ray could feel Zack’s gaze again, her hips writhed a little with nervous anticipation, the man placed one hand on Ray’s leg to keep her wide open for him, while the other moved to her inner thigh. Rachel’s heart was at her throat, she whimpered quietly from this new territory they were starting to tread, but her body was responding much differently. She was feeling this strange throb between her legs, along with a heated ache that demanded for some sort of attention.

 Fingers gently brushed Ray’s skin, feeling the soft suppleness under Zack’s hot fingertips, they trailed up and down Rachel’s leg for a moment, then began to inch closer to Rachel’s womanhood. Every detail about it was making his heart pound, those flushed open lips, along with her heated folds appearing wet and glistening. Isaac ran his fingers along Ray’s navel, and brushed along the small patch of hair adorned at the top of her womanhood, until he could feel the malleable and slick sensation of Rachel’s lips. Zack felt an incredible amount of wetness coming from Ray, something far different than just touching water-soaked skin, it was far more slippery, making it far easy to glide his fingers against her.

 Ray tried to keep her mouth shut, she let out a couple muffled whimpers, but something else was wanting to break free from her voice. Her body was shaking again, while an enticing tingling sensation began to swarm Rachel’s thighs. Zack watched the woman’s body squirm against his curious touch, his fingers continued to brush against the woman’s soaked lips, moving them back and forth. Rachel’s hips jerked a little, while Zack felt them writhe with every touch he gave her, like they were going along with the slide of his fingers. Heavy breaths escaped Zack’s lips as heat continued to build within him, his digits pulled back for a moment, then inched back to the woman’s pelvis. Instead of brushing her tender lips again, they slid to her slippery folds.

 “F-fuck…” Zack muttered to himself, “yer’ completely soaked.”

 Ray brought her hands to cover her face, she was feeling all kinds of embarrassed right now. The sensations she was feeling right now was increasing the more Zack’s fingers glided up and down her trembling flesh.

 “Mmh!” she hummed, “Ngh!”

 “Hey...ya’ wanted to do this...quit hidin’ yerself…” Zack murmured under his breath.

 “Nh...I...I can’t help it…” Ray gasped, “i-it’s e-embarrassing...I can’t control myself…”

 Her body continued to respond otherwise, her hips gyrated on reflex to Zack’s touches, approving of his discovering glides against her aroused folds. Isaac knew Ray was continuing to try and stifle every sound threatening to escape, only emitting whimpers and grunts.

 “Ray, I wanna see you…”

 Rachel let out a stubborn whimper as she shook her head, Zack let out a huff, then slowly pulled his fingers back. He could feel the juices stick to his fingers in a slippery strand, and watched Ray’s body give off slight throbs. That stimulation was fading from Rachel’s thighs, and she was feeling a sense of unfulfilled frustration, she whimpered as her legs squirmed to rub them together, only, Zack kept her open.

 “Z-Zack…” she whined.

 “Look at me, Ray…”

 She was unsure at first, huffing another whimper, as she continued to cover her face.

 “I want ya’ to sit up and look at me.”

 Rachel peeked through her fingers, the man’s hands were at his lap, nowhere near her heated thighs. Soon, she felt him grasp her wrists, freeing her face from being covered, Ray quickly diverted her gaze away from the man, but her hands were being pulled over to him. Her fingers began to touch as Zack’s skin again, Ray glanced from the corner of her eyes as Zack sat himself up for Rachel to get a better view of his body. Normally, Isaac was the more self-conscious one of the two, but right now, it wasn’t showing - he wants Rachel to look at him.

 “You have a turn then…”

 The woman stared at her hands on Zack’s muscles, her eyes wandering down to the man’s thighs. She can see the section where natural skin and tanned skin met, along with that small trail of hair starting near Zack’s belly button to his pelvis. Then there was his hardened length, Ray shyly glanced away from it a couple of times, but she always found herself staring right at it again. It stood completely rigid, yet it seemed to move on its own in slight squirms. From what Zack was doing earlier, it aroused him to the point where his cock was throbbing for attention. Rachel could even see a couple veins lining along the shaft to course an abundance of blood flow to his body, keeping him fully erect. There was so much more Rachel was staring at, there was that protective layer of extra skin, and in it, she could see something red and shimmering just threatening to poke out through the stretched folds of it. This was still very embarrassing, but at the same time, Rachel was feeling herself become more drawn to exploring Zack’s body.

 Her hands shyly slid down to the end of Zack’s abs, while the man watched in anticipation, but something prevented her from continuing.

 “I...I don’t know if I can, while you’re watching…”

 “I’m not gonna look away, and I’m not gonna hide my face,” Zack mumbled, “I want to see what you’re gonna to do to me.”

 Isaac wants Ray to see his reactions, and he wants to watch whatever desires she had during the growing tension they had.

 Rachel’s heart was racing yet again, she glanced at Zack’s pulsing member, she could see something seeping out of him, she was confused and a little bit curious as to what it was. The woman curiously brought a hand up and gently coiled her fingers around the shaft of Zack’s cock. The man uttered a small hum at first, and watched Ray gently expose the head of his member before her. Rachel was astonished with how hot Zack was to the touch, not only that, more of the strange liquid trickled out. With every throb, she could see it seep out from the insert of the tip, and drip from an excessive amount pooling.

 The woman dragged her thumb against the head of Zack’s cock, and watched his hips twitch.

 “Nh...h-hah…”

 Zack’s raw sound was making Rachel’s face burn, not only that, her sex was getting that nagging throb again. Like with her, Zack was quivering from just a simple touch, except he refused to retreat himself. If Zack was going to end up vulnerable, then to hell with it, only Rachel was blessed to indulge herself to such a sight.

 That moment of nervousness left her, she wants to hear those sounds from Isaac again, and leaned up to tenderly kiss Zack’s belly. The man smirked as he brought a hand down and ran them through Ray’s wet locks. He leaned back a little to give Rachel room to continue, and watched her coil her fingers around the shaft yet again. For Rachel, to please her only took hot and gentle glides of the fingers against her, perhaps she needed to so something in similar nature for Zack’s anatomy. With a slow motion, Rachel began to slide her hand back and forth along the shaft, while the other hand continued to fondle at the head.

 “A-ah...Christ, Ray…” Zack moaned.

 “Is this feeling good?”

 Isaac huffed out a slight chuckle, “Mmh...fuck yeah it is…”

 His pelvis squirmed a little with every graze of Rachel’s fingers against the head of his cock, he hummed an occasional grunt before letting a sighed moan escape his lips. With Rachel’s fingers gliding against his shaft, he could feel heat and stimulation grow between his legs. With every swift pump, she did notice her palm occasionally tapping another part of Zack’s anatomy - the undercarriage, or to put it bluntly, his balls.

 “I’m not hitting it, am I?”

 Zack uttered a small laugh, “Yer’ good, Ray...kinda feels good when ya’ touch it.”

 “You want me to feel there too?”

 “If that’s what you wanna do...mh...right now where yer’ touchin’ feels fucking awesome…” Zack replied.

 “Another time, then,” Ray said with a faint giggle.

 “Hey...since yer’ fine touchin’ me...I wanna do the same with you again…”

 Rachel was feeling nervous again, “I-I...I don’t know if I…”

 Isaac interrupted her moment of doubt with a kiss, turning it deep within seconds to clear her mind of any thought whatsoever. It worked, all rational thought left her mind, and all she ever could think about was Zack’s savage kiss, and that feral taste that filled her mouth when his tongue made its intrusion.

 “Mmh...” she hummed.

 They needed air, and reluctantly parted lips, as Zack’s tongue left Ray’s mouth, their mix of saliva stuck together in a thin strand. Isaac leaned Ray back down on the floor, while he laid his own body on its side. He parted Rachel’s legs, while he opened his own to give the woman plenty of access to his excited member. The two engaged in liplock yet again, with their hands going to their respective places, Rachel grasping Zack’s throbbing dick once more, while Zack moved his fingers to Ray’s dripping folds. With a short break for air, was when the couple began their stimulating actions. Rachel pumped Zack’s rigid shaft like before, while Zack’s fingers glided and stroked her damp folds. Both partners were breathing out soft moans, while their hips squirmed in response to each other’s touches.

 “Ah...Aahhh…” Ray gasped, “M-mh…”

 “That’s a good sound yer’ makin’, Ray…” Zack purred, kissing at her neck.

 The heat and the tingling throbs returned to her thighs, her hips couldn’t stop gyrating to Zack’s touches. Isaac glanced from the corner of his eye that not all of Ray was touched, one direction felt like he could slide his fingers in her, while another lead to a spot he must’ve missed. Just resting above Ray’s slick folds, he could see the slight throbs of a small bump. Isaac slid his soaked digits up to explore this new area.

 “Ah!” Ray gasped, “A-Aahh...Zack!”

 This intrigued the man, Rachel’s hips jerked hard, and Zack watched her arch her lower back just a little.

 “Good spot?” Zack mused.

 Rachel’s soft pants trembled, her hips slowly coming to a rest until Zack’s digits grazed them again.

 “Ah! Y-Yes!” she yelped, “Mmh!”

 Zack was amused by her reaction, but it wasn’t met without some sort of response, he immediately shuddered as soon as Ray began to stroke near the head. He felt the heat and stimulation coursing through him as the head and shaft rubbed against Rachel’s soft palm.

 “Nh...g-god…” he growled.

 Both hands were quick at work, Zack’s fingers juddered against Rachel’s aroused clit, while Ray began to quicken her strokes. Their pants were growing much heavier and needy, and their bodies reacted with every touch given to them. Hips were rolling against their partner’s touches, it could’ve been on reflex, or it was some sort of need that craved to be satisfied. Rachel could feel Zack’s hips moving with her hand, in some way of helping her pump himself, her hands were getting slick and sticky from the abundance of precum trickling out from him. Ray’s own hips seemed to move in a similar manner, as if reminding Zack’s fingers there was more for him to please. The man continued to play with Rachel’s clit a little more, until he decided to slide his digits further down.

 Down Ray’s folds, he felt an ever growing heat, along with an increase in dampness. Zack paused for a moment, gazing at Ray’s lost expression, admiring the look she made when huffing out her moans. He leaned close to claim her lips yet again, emitting his own moan when Ray stroked him quick yet again. Then, he slid his largest digit inside of her.

 “Nnh!...Zack..a-ah...n-not there…” she whimpered.

 “Doesn’t feel good?”

 He got that familiar pause of uncertainty, of course it felt good, she’s just too damn shy to admit it. Zack smirked to himself as he kissed at Rachel’s temple, he pulled his digit back a little to see just how soaked Ray was, his fingers were practically dripping with her juices. Isaac toyed with his fingers a little, before sliding them back to place, now inserting two fingers in her this time.

 “Z-Zack...n-no...ahh…”

 “It’s embarrassing, I know,” Zack whispered in Rachel’s ear, “but you still like it, right?”

 Rachel softly panted, feeling Zack kiss her temple repeatedly, before moving his fingers yet again. Instead of pulling them out completely like last time, he noticed Ray’s body had different responses from when he moved them in general - be it from pushing them in or sliding them out. It’s as if her body craved for every bit of touch, and desired to keep his fingers inside. How Rachel responded to Zack’s actions, it was if her protests didn’t exist at all. The only thing she was expelling from her lips now was hot moans, while her thighs curved to Zack’s touches.

 “Zack...ah...Z-Zack…” she gasped, almost pleading.

 Isaac could feel Rachel’s body throbbing under his touches, and with a small crook of his fingers, it only made her tremble harder. His own body was burning hot, with most of the heat continuing to swell between his legs, his cock was pulsing hard in Rachel’s swift strokes, and his hips continued to meet her touches.

 The couple were continuing this moment of mutual masturbation, with the heat from the water gradually growing cooler. The sounds of water splashing on the tile, and moans were filling the room, with pleasured sighs coming equally from both partners. Yet, Zack’s moans were starting to sound much different in compared to Ray’s, it was almost sounding needy in a way.

 They were growing desperate, often short and pleading, with obvious hints of frustration. He was feeling different than the culmination of stimulation and heat in his loins, instead, he was feeling this ache, a pressure, and this sensation that teased all the pleasure that was building within him. Rachel could feel Zack moving his hips a little quicker to her strokes, even having a mixed expression on his face - one that showed of pleasure, yet strain.

 “Faster…” Zack whispered, “...nh...f-fuck...please, do it faster!”

 His voice was almost begging, Rachel’s hands had become slick and slippery from the amount of pre that leaked from Zack. Not only that, she feels the strong heat and pulses within her palm, Ray paused for a moment, trying to break through the haze of pleasure to concentrate on catering to Isaac’s pleas. Her grip remained near the head, knowing now is where he felt the most pleasure, she kept it at a snug grip, and began to slide her hand along Zack’s cock much faster, hearing the sounds of it slipping within her grasp.

 Zack continued his heavy pants, he wants to continue pumping his digits in Rachel, but right now, this sensation he’s feeling had his undivided attention. This feeling he was having deep inside, screamed that he was close to having something happen. His body began to feel tight in different places, mostly within his muscles - mostly his abs, his legs, and even his balls were feeling tense.

 All the while he was being pumped, his thoughts swirled with a simple thought, something was coming out. Zack’s hips continued its frantic movement to match Ray’s pace, while he couldn’t stay quiet for a second, his pants were replaced with sharp and stuttered moans.

 The sensation within his groin was increasing, like he was teetering ever so close to this pleasure that was teasing within him.

 “K-Keep going...ah…” Zack panted, “nh...right there!”

 Throbs were only pulsing wilder in Ray’s hand, she’s never heard such desperate and vulnerable sounds before, especially coming from a man like Zack. She didn’t know what was going to happen if she continued, but every new reaction coming from Isaac was both enticing to watch, but arousing as well. It was making her own body throb that nagging ache yet again, telling her body not to stop being pleased. Ray breathed out a couple pants, her free hand handing its way to Zack’s, and cupping it as his digits remained stationary inside of her. She wants to please Zack, but her body demanded to be pleased in return. So she gently rolled her hips, while she manipulated Zack to keep pumping his digits inside of her.

 Isaac couldn’t even tell what was going on, his mind was already becoming clouded by this ever growing stimulation. Suddenly, he felt this spark, causing him to grunt harshly, while his body began to tremble. Something was coming out, but most of all, all the pleasures he had been feeling before erupted into something more, something that overwhelmed the man and sent his mind in a sort of euphoric high.

 A long moan escaped Zack’s lips, something Ray has never heard before. It was the rawest sound Isaac has ever breathed out, it tuned the hints of satisfaction, pleasure, and desire. The look on his face, she’d never expected him to make such an expression before. It showed a sense of being trapped in the strongest forms of bliss anyone could ever experience, obviously something Isaac has never felt before. Rachel internally admitted to herself, that very expression must be the most attractive thing she’s ever seen.

 There was more to Isaac’s first orgasm than just his sounds and expressions, something splashed onto her repeatedly. The woman glanced down to see spurts of white expelling out from Zack’s member. With every hard throb within her palm, she saw more streams of the sticky liquid spurt out, coating her fingers and thigh. Rachel pulled her hand back, while Isaac panted heavily, resting his head against his arm. The white fluid covering Ray’s digits were much thicker and stickier in texture compared to the abundance of precum a moment ago, it almost felt pretty dirty to even examine it. The cooling waters of the shower rained on her skin, and helped clean the mess off her body.

 Still, she couldn’t stop Zack’s orgasm from replaying in her mind, he must’ve felt incredibly good, and it left her curious about experiencing such a sensation herself. Ray huffed out a couple frustrated pants, as she continued to roll her hips along with Zack’s fingers. She wants to reach that end too.

 Reality was slowly coming back to Isaac, his breath was still heavy, and his mind was struggling to break out of a daze. The man carefully picked his head up, and focused back onto Rachel. He could feel her hand over his, moving it back and forth to get his digits to penetrate her repeatedly, and could hear the slight huffs of frustration.

 Ray could feel the man cease her actions, and crawl his spent body over her.

 “J-Jeez Ray...I-I get it...you don’t wanna get left out, but don’t go usin’ me like some kind of toy...I’ll get ya’...”

 Ray give Zack a slight pout, but spread her legs wide to give him all the room he needed to continue. Just the sight of her right now could make him hard again. Isaac pulled back his fingers for a moment and decided to step it up one more time - he made it three digits.

 “Nnh!”

 “Too much?” Zack asks.

 Rachel quickly shook her head, and clasped the man’s hand yet again, silently begging him to continue. Zack smirked and crooked his fingers once more before pumping them inside of her, Rachel’s moans were being exhaled in a more satisfied manner, drawn out and blissful as this sense of heat filling her up inside overwhelmed her, not only that, his fingers were rubbing against sensitive nerves she never thought to have. Zack could watch Rachel’s hips eagerly roll along his digits in some sort of erotic dance, not only that, he could see her throbbing with delight. This coaxed more ideas in his mind.

 Isaac wasn’t using his other hand, he might as well. His thumb made its way between Rachel’s rosey red lips, and pressed against her pulsing clit.

 “Haaah!” Ray mewled out.

 Her sound was much more passionate this time, and it excited Zack as it rung in his ears.

 “A-again!” she pleaded.

 She really liked what he just did to her, this teased out a sly grin from Isaac as his fingers continued to delve inside of her, while the others rolled against her clit and folds. Soon, the woman was finding herself repeating the same sounds as Zack, those hot and desperate moans, both sharp and short, as it was begging to reach some sort of climax. Now that Isaac’s experienced it firsthand, he knew Rachel was starting to feel that frustrating teasing heat. Judging by how her hips writhed and squirmed against his digits, her body wished to aid in the process as well.

 “Hot...e-everything’s hot…” Ray panted.

 Zack’s other fingers juddered and caressed Rachel’s clit, making her tremble and whimper with want, he can feel the heat coming off her, along with a tightness her body gave around his fingers.

 “Are you feelin’ close, Ray?”

 Ray gasped for a short moment, her thoughts having trouble trying to piece what he meant by that, close to what, she can’t even think straight.

 “Nhh...d-don’t...don’t know...just...don’t stop…” she struggled to say.

 He’ll take it as a yes.

 If he begged for Rachel to stroke him faster, then he’ll indulge Ray before she even had the chance to beg. He moved his hand much quicker, pumping his fingers inside of the woman as fast as he can comfortably go for her. Rachel’s moans were becoming breathier by the moment, her hips couldn’t stop for a second, she had trouble finding the rhythm of Zack’s fingers moving inside of her, but she found one with the others rattling her stimulated bud. Isaac could hear those familiar groans and gasps, the same as his, while her body was starting to become tense. He was anticipating every second of this, if he became so unwillingly lost in this new and incredible sensation, then he wondered how Ray would react to her own.

 “Almost there, Ray…” he whispers.

 All she could feel was heat and pleasure knotting up within her more and more with every action Zack gave to her, and it seemed if Ray even dare to move an inch, she was going to succumb to it. The sensation she was feeling was so entrancing, yet at the same time it frustrated her, so much work to get this faint tingling sensation to stop teasing her. Zack could see it on Ray’s flustered face, she’s teetering right at the peak, just a little more, and she’ll feel that moment of ecstasy.

 With his digits rattling her clit again, Ray threw her head back slightly, emitting a sharp yelp of delight, then felt her hips jerk against Zack’s touch. She’s become incredibly tight, she was throbbing wildly around his digits, and he could feel the same pulses coming from her excited bundle of nerves. Rachel’s legs were shaking uncontrollably, and her back arched a little. What followed was the most alluring sound Zack’s ever heard. That primal sound of pure bliss echoing the shower walls, along with an expression Rachel never made before. He didn’t know what to make of it, more or less, how to properly react, just looking at that lost and erotic look of delight stunned the man. Did he really make a face like this too? No wonder Ray was eager to meet her climax, just watching Ray endure her orgasm was bringing Zack on the verge of hardening again.

 His palms were soaked, during her climax, more of her juices escaped from her, and onto Zack’s hand. The man slowly retreated his fingers, watching more of the slick fluid trickle out from her, his other hand eventually left Ray’s clit as well, giving the woman a time to recover and bring herself back to reality. Just looking at her right now, satisfied, his sent his heart racing. No wonder she was too damn shy at first to do something like this. Such a feeling during the climax was like being sent to heaven, along with losing control of one’s body during it all. It was kind of scary, but absolutely incredible.

 Rachel panted heavily, her body felt incredibly overheated, but luckily, the shower was starting to run cold. Her vision blearily focused back to where she was, and saw Zack hovering over her. He had a pleased grin on his face, and leaned down to capture her lips, giving her the option to deepen it. Ray hummed out a soft moan as she complied, letting her tongue invade the man’s mouth to steal his taste again.

 As they parted, Zack gently bumped their heads together, “How was that?”

 “Amazing would be too simple of an answer…” Ray said, “there’s alot to say about it, but I think I might end up boring you.”

 Zack quietly chuckled, she definitely knew him all too well.

  After what occurred in the shower, sensual touches was becoming the new norm. The casual kisses, getting dressed in front of the other, their showers, and now mutual masturbation.

 If the couple were getting lost in a steamy kiss, it would take one to start dropping hints to the other partner. Zack’s fingers would start teasing Ray through her underwear, while Rachel would caress between Zack’s legs to coax him into becoming hard. Sometimes a moment of sultry kisses wasn’t it to engage such an act between the two, it would often occur at random.

 Rachel could be washing plates until hands began to grab her from behind, one hand gently groping her breast, while the other snaked into the rim of her pants. Zack would then tenderly nibble at Ray’s ear, or sometimes her neck, before whispering erotic things in her ear.

 “Zack...wait...let me finish this…”

 “They’re not going anywhere...those can wait...I can’t…” Zack would seductively growl, then glide his fingers against her sensitive bud.

 It was one hell of a stress reliever for Zack as well. When he’d come home annoyed during his moment of scouting the city, he would normally sit down and pout about it until Rachel would find a way to lift his spirits. It was often kisses and sweet words of encouragement, but now she had more options.

 “Need some help getting people’s smiles off your mind?” she’d ask.

 “I guess...what are you going to…”

 His sentence was cut off with Ray caressing the man’s lap so tenderly.

 “Just sit there and relax,” Ray murmured.

 Zack’s face grew hot underneath his bandages, but he complied, leaning back in the chair as he would watch Ray unzip his fly and get to work between his legs. Rachel took her sweet time pleasing Zack, letting both of her hands touch and explore the man’s hard-on. One fondled near the head of Isaac’s cock, while the other ventured at the base of it, massaging his balls and giving the shaft an occasional stroke.

 “Mhh...yeah, that’s good…” Zack purred out, opening his legs a little wider to give Ray all the room she needed.

 He planted his arms against the cushions of the chair, and rested his head on it to show complete relaxation. He tilted it back a couple times when he felt Ray’s fingers graze a couple sensitive nerves, with the occasional moan and seductive words of approval. True to her word, Zack’s stress and frustration was melting away.

 Every mutual encounter was different, it all depended on the situation, really. Sometimes their moment of play was in one room, then the other, sometimes they engaged in the erotic activity partially clothed or completely in the nude, and in other moments, the aftermath of their play was either planned to keep things clean, or just out of the blue, leaving a bit of a mess.

 “Jesus, Ray...look at ya’...you’re a mess,” Zack chuckled in a sly and seductive manner. His fingers were dripping with her juices.

 “Y-You’re one to talk…” Ray said, as she panted to catch her breath.

 She was perched on the man’s lap, her legs coiled around his to keep them spread, while he played with her. His usual count of digits were delving deep inside of her, while his other hand teased and fondled the woman’s clit. Ray gasped and whimpered from how full and stimulated she was feeling, along with Isaac littering her neck with kisses and wild nips.

 “Yer’ gettin’ me real fuckin’ hard right now,” he growled in her ear. To prove his word, he rubbed his hips against her, “ahh…”

 For some reason, the sight of his seed coating different areas of Ray’s skin aroused the man, like it was visual proof that Ray and only Ray could get him off, and she got rewarded for it. There’s so much more he’d like to do with her, he’s been having that craving for a while now, just like at the start for their explorative touches. That tension.

 Watching Ray climax, hearing her pleasured cries, and feeling her body throb from his touches turned him on. Just rubbing his hips against her was making him huff out hot breaths against her skin, and feeling the excess of Ray’s juices on his fingers was only making that craving grow. Zack could feel Ray push her weight on the man in exhaustion, he smirked to himself as he carefully lowered her down on the couch to let her catch her breath. Isaac’s fingers were basically dripping as he carefully withdrew them from her.

 “Was that good, Ray?”

 “Yeah...I-I can still feel it…” Ray panted.

 “Heh...I’m gettin’ better at this…” Zack chuckled, then gazed at his hands, “I’ll be back in a moment...you can rest.”

 Isaac picked himself up, giving Ray all the space she needs to rest, and eventually redress, while he headed over to the bathroom. He just needed his own time to take care of his hard-on, while also giving himself some time alone with the nectar lingering on his digits. Zack sat himself down, staring at his fingers, watching the slippery fluid bead and string every time he parted his fingers. This new thought quickly invaded his mind - how did it taste?

 Using the fingers that weren’t as drenched, he pulled down the zipper of his crimson pants, unbuttoned it, and pushed them down to his ankles. From there, he snaked into the opening of his boxers to pull out his hardened cock. Zack’s boxers have already become slightly damp from his moment of grinding against Rachel during his time of pleasing her, his member continued to leak precum as it ached for more attention.

 He really couldn’t control this part of himself, having repressed sexual desires for so long, Zack’s body became sensitive and messy, even from the slightest hint of arousal. He wasn’t going to complain too much, Rachel found it alluring to see him in such a state. Isaac coiled his fingers around the shaft of his member, pulling back the protective layer of skin to free the head of his dripping cock, and allowed his thumb to swirl in gentle circles to further stimulate himself.

 “Hnn…”

 Ever since touching each other in the shower, he’s learned to explore his body when Rachel was away, it still paled in comparison to Ray’s gentle touches, but it still satisfied his needs. His digits continued to play with the head, gliding along the very tip, making his legs shake from the jolts of pleasure coursing through him. As he huffed out hot moans, he stared at the soaked fingers before him, still drenched in Ray’s juices. The thoughts to taste it still persisted in his mind, and with every touch and stroke of his fingers, his other hand inched closer to his mouth. Isaac was practically stroking himself now, making it nice and slow as to feel the tight snugness of his grip, while he slid his tongue out to meet his other fingers halfway. The scent of Ray’s lust was filling his nostrils as his fingers drew closer. Then, he felt the slippery liquid coat his tongue.

 ‘It’s...kind of salty...w-wait...no...oh fuck no...it’s becoming sweet...god it’s so sweet…’

 A new sensation was taking over Isaac, a sense of intoxication, just from a sample of Rachel’s true flavor.

 ‘It’s so fucking good...I want more…’

 He dragged his tongue against his fingers once more, breathing a hungry growl in place of a moan. His hand began to quicken in pace, while his legs spread much wider, his cock squirmed as harder throbs were pulsing his heightened sense of arousal. Zack’s licks were turning more ravenous, and began to wrap his lips around his digits. He wanted every drop, every strip of flavor soaked on his fingers, all the while his mind began to fantasize. He closed his eyes for a clearer picture, his lips enveloping Rachel’s wet sex, slurping her hungrily as she writhed and shrieked in delight. How freshly sweet her flavor would fill his mouth, and how generous an amount he would drink when she did cum. Such thoughts was teasing his climax to arrive much sooner than before. His hand continued to pump himself, picking up the pace as his pre made his grip nice and slippery. His hips gyrated to his touch, giving Isaac that fulfilling need of having something to thrust into, just like how he grinded against Ray.

 Stifled moans and hungry slurps filled the room, along with a growing humidity. He could feel it, that stimulating ache within his groin, teasing him more and more to work hard to let it all go. That familiar sense of pressure and congestion, along with his muscles tightening up to prepare for an ejaculation.

 “M-Mh...hnngh…” he hummed.

 He could pretty much hear the slippery sounds of his hand pumping his dick, he knows he’s close, he knows it’s going to make one hell of a mess, but right now, he doesn’t give a damn. Isaac was too lost in suckling the flavor of Ray off his fingers.

 His hips squirmed and twitched, while his heels pressed hard against the bathroom tile, his cock throbbed much harder in his grip, which prompted Zack to give himself one final increase in pace with his strokes.

 ‘Almost there...Ray tastes so fucking good...god, it’s turning me on so much…m-more...I want more...’

 His hot breaths grew more desperate, his hips didn’t stop for a second, and Zack slowly tilted his head upwards, as if he wanted to breath out his final cries to the heavens.

 “Mmh! A-aaaah!”

 Zack could feel a strong tension in his abs, his cock swelling in various spots, and that pressure he’s been feeling for a while finally cave. Pleasure coursed through his body as his vision hazed into heavenly white, and his body seized just for a couple seconds.

 After a few strong throbs, his dick erupted the first load of his seed. A large stream of milky white spurting out from the swollen tip, while his shaft twitched to help push the flow out at its fullest. The arch landed on Zack’s legs and fingers, then came the next spurt, which landed on his stomach. Followed by the next and the next, until only trickles began to escape from him.

 “H-Haah...hahhh…” Zack panted out.

 He was still in a daze, but his body worked on a sort of autopilot, guiding his hand to help squeeze out more drops that couldn’t escape him. Zack’s body was trembling, he’s come hard this time, and he was having trouble trying to come to after such a strong orgasm. His vision blurred a good while, until the picture was starting to become clear again. His fingers were hanging partially from his mouth, while drool escaped the corner of his lips, he couldn’t taste Rachel anymore. He struggled to properly sit up and saw the aftermath of his moment of self-indulgence. His belly, his legs, his hand, and even some of the floor was coated with splashes of his semen - he made a real big mess this time.

 ‘C-Christ, I never blew this big a load before, even when Ray jerks me off…’ he thought to himself, then gazed at his fingers, seeing them drenched in his saliva now. ‘She tasted so fucking good...just thinking about the actual thing is gonna make me hard again…’

 Zack’s breath grew hot, sitting around just daydreaming about it was just going to rile him up further. He needed to clean up his mess first, before barging out to cave into his needs yet again. First, he cleaned the splatters off his body, then took care of the droplets off the tile. Isaac could feel his body growing warm yet again, he couldn’t bear to keep the hoodie on his person right now. Zack pulled his britches up, and left the bathroom before fidgeting to unzip the thick hoodie.

 As he entered the living room, he noticed Rachel wasn’t on the couch anymore. Zack grumbled a short groan of frustration as his pants was threatening to tighten all around him again. He waltzed through every room in the house, until he spotted Rachel in their bedroom - it couldn’t be more perfect, all the privacy for them. She was sitting on a chair, and quietly reading a book to pass the time during Zack’s moment of absence. The woman noticed a different presence in the room, and saw Isaac standing at the doorway.

 “Oh, are you done taking care of things?”

 “...For a bit...yeah…” Zack mumbled, then quietly approached her.

 She can see that haze of lust in the man’s eyes, Ray recalled Zack rubbing against her a while ago as she was being pleased, perhaps Isaac didn’t take care of his own needs while she was recovering. Rachel set her book down, and her eyes wandered to Zack’s hips - he had a fairly noticeable erection.

 Before she could propose pleasing him, she felt Zack quickly claim her lips, and deepen it without a second thought. The drive behind Zack’s kiss felt like an immense hunger, his tongue quickly finding hers to steal every bit of her taste as he could. Ray shuddered for a moment from how hot Zack’s savage kiss felt, she can sense his cravings with every dance of the tongue, it made her heart race, and slowly become drunk with his flavor. Isaac could feel Ray tug desperately at his bandages, as she began to return her own fervent swirls of the tongue, almost as if either one could starve without each other’s kiss.

 As they parted for a short break of air, Zack’s hands slowly made their way down to Ray’s legs, and slid his fingers against her shorts. Rachel shuddered a little from the sensation of something incredibly hot rubbing up against her sex, then pulled Zack in for another prurient kiss.

 “Zack...you...ah...you s-still never had a turn…”

 Zack hummed out a faint chuckle, “Took care of it a moment ago...this one’s new...you keep turning me on so fucking much…”

 He slid himself between Rachel’s legs, pulling her closer, while Ray leaned back in the chair. Zack pulled down the zipper of the woman’s shorts, and slowly slid off the articles of clothing. Already, he can see how wet she’s become just from their kiss alone. Isaac felt that hunger again as he slyly licked his lips.

 ‘Delicious…’

 “God...do you know what you’re doing to me?” Zack growled out.

 “Mmh...s-sorry…” Ray breathed out, her breath growing heavy.

 Isaac tossed away the woman’s shorts, then gently spread her legs wide open, he wanted nothing but complete access to her body.

 “Don’t be...I want this...more than anything right now…”

 “A-Anything?”

 Isaac gave her a devious smirk, he glanced at the corner of his eye, and saw one of his hunting knives, he grabbed it, and displayed it in front of her, showing just what he desired most right now. As Rachel gazed at the blade, she suddenly saw him toss it across the room, with the blade lodging into the wall.

 Murder just wasn’t his passion right now.

 Zack picked up Rachel’s legs and draped them over his shoulder, this was an entirely new position, perhaps to give Zack better access to her body to touch however he pleased. Ray’s heavy breaths were on the brink of turning into soft pants, her hips curving slightly to give Zack a better view of her aroused sex, and entice him to do whatever he wanted.

 “Good girl…” he purred.

 Zack kissed at Rachel’s inner thigh, shooting a seductive glance from the corner of his eye, before bringing his hand up to her, sliding his digits along her soaked folds, and spreading his fingers to part Rachel’s lips wide open. He could see all of her, the juices stranding across the gap of her lips, her velvety flesh, that small and pulsing bud, and the increasing amount of nectar seeping out of her channel.

 Ray watched him stare at her with such longing in his eyes, in the beginning it embarrassed her to see her splayed open like this, but now, it excited her, it made her feel completely desired, and she’d willingly offer herself to Zack. The man continued to gaze at Rachel’s body, until he could ignore the hunger no more, he wants to eat.

 “Z-Zack!” Ray yelped.

 She could see Isaac dive himself between her legs, and feel his lips wrap around her womanhood. She uttered a sharp whimper as something glided against her folds, she knew it wasn’t his fingers, it was something much more hot.

 “Mmh…” Zack growled out.

 She could hear his ravenous growls, along with a new sound - suckling, Isaac was eagerly suckling on her sex, and hungrily licking at her.

 “A-Aah! Zack!...Nh!...Z-Zack...no!” she whimpered, “Ahh...Zack…”

 Isaac wasn’t listening, to tell him no was like presenting a starved man a meal, but telling him he couldn’t eat.

 He didn’t just stick to suckling, his tongue swirled along her body, his lips kissing at every sensitive spot, and his feral voice rattled on her. Zack’s hands quickly planted themselves on Rachel’s inner thighs to hold her open. That sweetness from before was filling his mouth, making his cock throb hard with arousal, and only fueled his hunger, before greedily drinking her up.

 “Nhh! Zack...that...aah...it’s so...it’s so dirty…” Ray whined.

 Isaac’s bi-colored eyes glanced up at her, she could see the lust-drunk haze in them, he wants her to watch him devour her, he slid out his tongue to let her spectate it fondling her clit. Rachel clasped her mouth tight with her hands, letting out a muffled shriek from how it felt. Zack sensed Rachel’s heels squirming against him, and judged that she was curling her toes fairly hard.

 “Says who, Ray?” Zack replied, “...if I’d known you tasted this good, I’d eaten ya’ back when we played in the shower...mmh...and judging from how hard yer’ squirmin’, you’re fuckin’ loving this…”

 Rachel’s face turned a deep shade of red, she was tasting good to him, down there of all places, and he was consuming her like a starved beast. Her loins felt like they were consumed by a stimulating wildfire, every touch, every suckle was sending her body in a hot frenzy. Yet, she felt an ache that more could be done, she didn’t know what until she inhaled a sharp gasp. Something entered her, and waggled inside. Zack was going to get her juices from the source.

 “Z-Zack!”

 His lips encased her again, but he slid his tongue inside of her, and even gestured it in small thrusts to coax more wetness from her. Aside from fulfilling his hunger for Ray’s forbidden flavor, he wanted to make sure Rachel was feeling pleased during this entire experience, after all, this was his first time doing something like this, and all he had going right now was fantasies that played in his head. He slowly pulled his head back, Ray’s juices stringing off the tip of his tongue, as much as he’d love to please her this way, he knows his tongue wasn’t long enough to satisfy her.

 “I’m puttin’ em in…”

 He freed a hand and gestured his digits for penetration, he’d normally use 3 fingers to fuck her with, but given how excited Ray was with his licks, it was best to use his longest digits for now - so just his middle and ring fingers. Rachel shuddered to feel Zack’s fingers invade her again, then noticed Zack lowering his head once more, he was going to lick her up, while fingering her. His warm tongue slid out of his mouth again, and found her clit once more. Rachel threw her head back from the jolt of stimulation overwhelming her, but as soon as Zack moved his fingers, he felt her legs squeeze him a little.

 His gaze was fixated on her again, daring her to watch him as he sampled her during masturbation. Rachel felt that sense of embarrassment again, but she couldn’t look away. The man was leisurely dragging his tongue against her quivering bud and folds, and letting her see the nectar hang off his tongue. This was so lewd, but it aroused her so much.

 Soon, Zack could feel Rachel’s hips starting to move against his fingers, actually, it wasn’t that, she was moving along with Zack’s greedy licks - she was grinding against his tongue. This amused the man, he’d won her over with his actions. His seduction glanced turned into a pleased one, and planted his tongue against her, giving her a silent approval to grind against his mouth however she pleased. Rachel panted heavily, this was incredibly raunchy, she’d never expected herself to even do something like this, but she didn’t want to stop, everything felt so damn good. The woman reached her hands up to Isaac, and placed them behind his head. One letting her fingers lovingly caress through his black hair, while the other pressed him against her, showing her absolute desire for this man.

 ‘She fucking wants me too...she’s tasting so much sweeter now...god she’s so good…’

 “Aah!...Mmh!...Haahh,” Ray moaned out, followed by soft mewls of Zack’s name.

 Isaac’s fingers did all the work to thoroughly fuck her, crooking just right, and plunging deep inside of her, while her hips gyrated against his mouth. Rachel gets pleasured, while he suckled her dry. Suddenly, he could feel a whole new spot inside of Ray, something his fingers have yet to graze, he pulled them back for a moment to gently strike at it, and felt the woman jerk her pelvis hard against him.

 “Aah!” she yelped, “...A-Again!”

 It must be good. So, he did what she asked, getting that same reaction.

 “D-Don’t stop!”

 The sensation she got just now made the arousal within her loins knot up just as quick, Zack could feel her tighten up, like she could cum any minute just from those couple of strikes. Amused by this, he wanted to up the sensation a little more.

 “Spread yerself open for me…”

 Ray breathed heavily, the hand combing through Zack’s hair made its way to her sex, and spread her lips open for him, giving him easy access to her throbbing clit.

 “Mmh...atta girl…”

 With no other warning, Zack dipped his head down, and started to suck fairly hard on the woman’s clit, letting his hungered growls vibrate on her, while his fingers delved inside her at a quick pace. Rachel’s back arched, and her voice was filling the room with her moans and shrieks. This was a pleasurable overload for her, something she wasn’t sure she was going to recover through.

 “Aah! Th-there!...Right there!” she moaned, “Faster!”

 The stimulation was building much quicker, than that usual slow burning tease. It was wild and out of control, her body couldn’t stop shaking through it all. Zack could feel Rachel’s legs trembling, while one pointed skyward and locked in place from the pleasure.

 She was practically gushing from the stimulation, his fingers were slipping in and out of her so easily, he decided, now was best to slide in that third finger.

 “Zack!”

 Her hand pressed hard against the back of his head, with fingers balling into a fist and tugging a tuft of hair. Her climatic cry loudly echoed against the walls, displaying a primal and untamed power behind it. While her body seized in place during her orgasmic possession.

 Isaac seized this chance to slide his fingers out and wrap his lips around her again, sliding his tongue inside her tightened sex, holding her thighs tightly against his mouth, and was eager to take in every drop that spilled out of her. Rachel’s hips twitched for a moment, and Zack was surprised by how aroused she was. She came hard, he could feel Rachel’s juices erupt out of her, and fill his mouth. Isaac could feel something trickling down his chin, be it drool or Ray's excess, he couldn't care right now. If just a sample of her tasted as sweet, her climax was the most indulgent delicacy of all.

 The man got goosebumps from her flavor, and savored every drop he swallowed. His tongue gently dragged against Ray’s quaking womanhood to lap off every drop that still clung to her, while teasing out the fading stimulation of her orgasm. Isaac’s pants were feeling incredibly compressed and damp from it all, he wonders if he should excuse himself to the bathroom again, knowing Rachel couldn’t bounce back so easily, not from such an intense climax like that.

 Ray heavily panted, her legs weakly resting against Zack’s shoulders, she was exhausted, but she still had plenty of energy left. It took her a short while to stop her head from spinning, but she couldn’t stop moaning in between pants from the hard throbs continuing to ghost her.

 “Zack...a-ah…” she breathed, “...i-incredible.”

 Isaac was standing beside the woman, licking off the bit of Ray’s juices off his fingers with a smirk, “It was good for me too...best meal I’ve ever had…”

 “It’s your turn though…”

 Zack raised a brow, then felt her caress the damp erection.

 “Yer’ tired, Ray...don’t wanna make you overwork yourself,” Zack replied.

 “...Then how about I try what you did?”

 Isaac raised a brow for a second, but the thought intrigued him. He loved when Rachel touched him, but now the thought of Ray returning the favor, his skin got goosebumps. How would it feel if Ray licked and suckled on him too?

 The man brought his hands up to let Ray watch him partially undress, he let his hoodie slide off his shoulders to get rid of the excess heat he knew was going to overwhelm him, then unbuttoned his trousers. Slowly and carefully he unzipped them, and began to push both the pants and boxers to his hips. Zack wasn’t joking about Ray making him hard, even after relieving himself in the bathroom a moment ago, it was like it never even happened from how rigid it appeared.

 Precum was already dripping from the tip, and his cock lightly bobbed from the hard throbs coursing through the shaft. If he’d taken his sweet time just a little longer devouring Ray, he might’ve lost it completely by arousal alone.

 “Give it a try, if you’re willing to do it,” Zack said, “if not...then you can just watch me take care of this…”

 “I want to try...give me a moment,” Ray said.

 She sat up a little, inching closer to Zack’s dick, she brought a hand up to gently grasp it, and eyed every detail about it. Could her mouth really take him in? He is pretty thick as he is large. Isaac watched her with anticipation, he knows he should let her take her time to sum up the courage to try something new, but damn, was his impatient demeanor kicking in.

 Ray gave Zack a couple gentle strokes, watching more of the sappy fluid trickle down from the tip, she wasn’t entirely sure to suck on him just yet, but she may as well try and build her courage up a little. Zack watched Rachel lean closer and start to gently kiss at the shaft, planting his skin with a small shower of affection. The constant pressing of Ray’s plush lips felt like a bit of a tease, and it made him grumble a little in the back of his throat. Yet, he knew to let her explore, learn, adapt, and even enjoy this activity like he did.

 The woman pulled back for a moment, and let her thumb swirl along the tip of Zack’s member, hearing him hum out a pleased sound. The sticky precum beaded onto Ray’s finger, sticking to her by a mere strand before becoming undone by gravity.

 Zack watched her observe the liquid on her digit and smirked a little, “Give it a lick…”

 Rachel’s face turned a deep shade of red for a moment, just from the lewdness of it all, but...one little sample wouldn’t hurt.

 She slid her tongue out, and gently glided it against her thumb, tasting the flavor of Zack’s pre for the first time. It was a very odd taste, making her cheeks flush even more. Primal, hot, yet strangely sweet, a perfect flavor befitting Isaac.

 “How was it?”

 Ray was silent for a moment, then glanced up at Zack, “...More…”

 So, she had the same reaction too. The man smirked as he leaned closer to Ray, letting his hips hover close to her, while he planted his hands onto the chair. This gave Rachel a far better access to his member, and already, he could feel her gently grab the base of the shaft again.

 Rachel leaned up, she was going to kiss it again, moving upward this time. Isaac gripped the chair fairly tight at her lips drew closer and closer to the head.

 “Mh!...Haah…” he breathed out, feeling those luscious lips against his body yet again.

 She can taste the pre again, and licked her lips to clean them off to get more of that savage flavor. The woman knows Zack is watching her every move, and like what he’d done to her earlier, she wants him to watch her explorations. Rachel finally summed up the courage to slide her tongue out, and proceeded to gently caress the underside of the head first.

 “Aah! O-oh fuck!” Zack gasped.

 She knows he’s feeling incredible, the head was always a big sensitive zone for Isaac. So, she proceeded to slowly drag the tip of her tongue along the rest of the head, gliding it over the peak to the other side, then back to where she started.

 Isaac shuddered for a moment, then felt his legs threaten to buckle on him in an instant. Rachel proceeded to hungrily lap at the very tip of Zack’s cock, slurping every drop that seeped out of him. Hot and heavy breaths escaped Zack, as he struggled to stay on his feet. God, it felt incredibly good.

 “God, Ray...nhh...th-that’s the spot...ah, yeah...right there…” he purred.

 His moans were sounding much different compared to how Rachel touched him, they were more erotic and satisfied. Isaac was already struggling to keep himself up, being licked was indeed far more different than being touched, he can feel the grooves of Ray’s hot tongue tickling every sensitive nerve on the head of his cock. Ray pulled back for a moment to wipe the corner of her lips, gazing up at Zack for a moment to see that familiar lost expression from being trapped in a haze of pleasure. He used more than just his tongue to pleasure her, the first thing he did was use his lips. Now that she was accustomed to Zack’s taste, she should start doing the same.

 “H-Haaahh…” Zack shuddered.

 Heat and a gentle snugness was encasing the head, making Zack’s hips jerk for a moment. Ray was sliding her mouth down on him, adjusting her lips and tongue to wrap around his thick member just right. The tongue cushioned Zack’s dick, while her lips snugly wrapped around him, her mouth felt incredibly hot all around him, and it made Zack huff out moans with every breath - she didn’t even move yet, and he’s already losing it. No wonder Rachel came so hard earlier.

 “Mmh…” Ray hummed, feeling precum seep out onto her tongue.

 A firm suction surrounded Zack, along with Rachel’s tongue fondling him, his hips squirmed a little from the stimulation becoming teasing at him. It felt nice, but Isaac had that feeling that something was lacking. There wasn’t too much proactivity like he did with Rachel. He had to shake off that thought for a moment - Ray is just getting the hang of it, let her find out on her own.

 As soon as Ray pulled her lips back to swallow what filled her mouth, she heard an excited gasp coming from Zack. It was slowly coming together, with Ray’s hands, to stimulate him, it had to move along the rigid shaft to give him stimulation, what Zack did with his mouth and tongue was to simulate his fingers’ actions, only tenfold the pleasure.

 Ray slid her mouth back over Zack’s throbbing dick, the taste coating her tastebuds again, and making her emit a hum of approval. Her sounds vibrating on him made the hair stand on the back of Zack’s neck. The man fixated his gaze downwards on Ray again, then watched as she tried to imitate the motion of her hand, moving herself back and forth on his cock.

 “Nh...aah…”

 He could hear the sounds of her suckling him, watching his member slide in and out of her mouth, while feeling that of stimulation pool between his legs. That small thought of possession crossed his mind, it’s his cock she’s slurping, enjoying its taste, and taking her sweet time to please. It’s him that she desires over all.

 ‘This is so dirty...but I don’t want to stop...his sounds...this...this taste...it’s so alluring...I’m craving for more…’ Ray thought to herself, ‘this is must be how Zack felt…’

 The more she bobbed her head, the more she could taste precum being squeezed out from the shaft. It was clear she had a limit of how much she could take in, Zack was fairly large in size after all, and she could only fit so much of his length into her mouth.

 “Ah...th-this feels good…” Zack panted, but he noticed Ray had to pull back a couple of times, “...nh...what’s wrong?”

 “S-Sorry...I’m just trying to keep up...I guess I’m still low on energy…”

 “You wanna stop for now?” Zack asks.

 “No...no, I don’t want you to leave until you’re done…” Ray pleaded, “...I want to do my share in this too…”

 Zack brought a hand down to gently play with her hair, then trailed it to Ray’s lips, feeling how soft and plush they are.

 “Can’t get enough, huh?” Zack teased with a smirk, “...hmm...how about I just do the moving instead?”

 The thought made Rachel blush, she tried to hide in it Zack’s thigh, as she heard him chuckle.

 “That’s if you want to, Ray.”

 “I-I’ll do it...it’s just...I never thought I’d being doing something like this...it feels so sinful...but at the same time...it’s tempting,” Ray mumbled.

 “Heh...yer’ not alone on that...but honestly, there’s no one I’ll ever being doing this amazing stuff with other than you, Ray,” Zack said with a soft purr. “You should know that by now...I mean, look at the wall.”

 His hunting knife was still wedged and unmoving in the wall right across from them, proof that only Rachel had a special effect on him. The woman smiled to herself for a moment, then gave the head a tender kiss this time.

 “Let’s do this, be gentle, okay?” Ray said.

 “Got it…”

 Ray did the work of sliding her mouth back over Zack’s member, while he slid his hand back to her head, holding the back of it to help keep her in position for what he was going to do. Zack stood straight to make sure he could see what he was doing before the both of them got comfortable for the next action. Rachel placed her hands on Zack’s hips to keep herself anchored on him, and decided to tease him a little with the hum of a moan.

 “Nhh...if I get too rough, feel free to push my hips away, got it?”

 He felt her gently pat at his hips, a signal that she understood him.

 “Right, gonna move now…”

 Slowly, he reeled his hips back, with Rachel responding to his movement with a firm suck. He huffed out a hot moan for a moment, and paused his hips the moment he felt the ridge of the cock head graze Ray’s lips. Then, he pushed it back in, before starting the process all over again. Isaac licked his lips, watching what he was doing, moving his waist in a sensual rhythm to help Rachel suck on him with minimal effort. He was literally making love to her mouth right now.

 Rachel let out a couple more hums as the taste was filling her mouth again, this was much easier to let Zack move, and it was coaxing out much more exciting moans from the man. It was making her body feel hot again - aroused. She uttered another hum as she freed a hand. Zack wondered what she was up to, then watched the woman bring her hand up to fondle her breast. He’s eyes widened a little to see he was getting more of a show, than him constantly thrusting into Ray’s mouth. A hard throb aches from him, which caused Ray to hum out another moan, sending electricity down Zack’s spine.

 It started off with gentle squeezes, until her digits began to play with the nipple, rolling against the hardened bud, and even giving it a couple gentle tugs. She was doing everything to mimic Zack’s actions. Isaac’s hips jerked for a moment, and increased the pace a little, he was getting far too aroused from watching Rachel touch herself.

 ‘This is so fucking hot...and everything feels so damn good too...god, I could cum any second…’

 Rachel moaned in approval to the change in pace, along with sucking fairly harder on the shaft, just playing with her bosom wasn’t enough, she was getting wet again. Isaac watched Rachel spread her legs open, and could sense she wanted some room for what she was going to do next. Very carefully he allowed Ray to lean back in the chair a little, slowing the pace down just a tad so she wouldn’t suspect a thing. Once she got comfortable, was when he rolled his hips quickly again. Rachel’s digits left her breast, and quickly found their way between her legs. Her index finger rubbed against her clit for a moment, and grunted a sharp moan from how sensitive she was feeling right now.

 “Ray...ah...you’re really good at this…” Zack moaned out. He wants his words of encouragement to arouse her further - and it was working.

 Her fingers were gliding against her hot and slippery folds, getting them nice and wet during stimulation, before finding their way back to the clit. The little show Zack was watching, plus the combination of Ray’s moans, it was making him let out his own with every breath. He was right to throw off his hoodie, he wished he’d rip off his bandages too, his body was overloaded with gradually building heat. The constant stimulation he was feeling was also directing that heat to his loins, exciting his body more and more for his eventual climax. He decided to do something slightly different for a moment, and slid most of the shaft out from Ray’s mouth, now thrusting just the head repeatedly.

 “Mmh! Fuck!” he shouted, then was bombarded with the moans again, “Fuck!”

 Zack hunched over a little, panting out a hard moan, while his body shook for a second, it seems so soon to ejaculate, but he was already feeling that sensation of a climax.

 “A-Ah!...I...I’m cumming…” he moaned.

 Zack felt Ray’s other hand grip tightly against his hip, and used her energy to bob back and forth on the head, determined to aid him in his climax. Isaac’s legs were trembling, as he pressed his forehead against his arm. His mind was swimming in a heavenly bliss, yet, his body wasn’t doing it’s other part. He still felt the growing pressure in the base of his spine, and he didn’t have that sensation of ejaculation. He had the climax, or at least, the sensation of it.

 “Nnh...hah...hnn…” he panted, then sheepishly chuckled, “...f-false alarm...mmh...you really are somethin’, Ray…”

 This was the first time she’s coaxed Zack into a small orgasm, it sent her heart racing, if she could make him feel that good with her mouth, she wonders what his full climax would be like. Her grip loosened, and allowed the man to find his energy to continue his thrusts again. All the while, her fingers returned to rolling against her throbbing bundle of nerves. Her hips squirmed and rolled against her touches, wanting so much more, while she savored the taste of Zack. The man noticed Ray taking off her other hand from his hip, he caught it this time, noticing what she was about to do.

 “Lemme take care of those…”

 He slid his cock out for a moment, so he could lean down and suckle on Rachel’s fingers, dragging his tongue against her digits, and showing her how nice and wet he got them. He gave her a seductive grin, letting her know she was ready, before standing straight again, and holding the base of his cock for her to slurp.

 Rachel blushed faintly, realizing Zack knew what she was doing all along, but with the strong sense of lust she was feeling right now, she was kind of enticed that he was watching her please herself. Ray dragged her tongue along the dripping head of Zack’s cock, then slid her mouth on him once more. He was feeling incredibly hot, and the throbbing was pulsing much more wildly in her mouth - either it was from his small climax earlier, or perhaps he was on the cusp of cumming very soon, she was eager to continue pleasing him.

 One hand continued to rattle her bud, while she directed her drenched fingers to slide inside of her, they weren’t as thick as Zack’s but it’ll suffice in masturbation, while Zack continued his thrusts.

 Zack placed both hands behind Rachel’s head, making sure not to go overboard with his thrusts. The couple were clearly feeling hot and bothered with what was transpiring, and they were desperate to reach their climax together. Zack carefully picked the pace up once more, getting another fantasy to spark in his mind. How his cock continuously entered and exited Ray’s mouth, how aroused he was to watch her finger herself during it all, he wants to replace those fingers with his member. If his own digits can fill her up and make her feel good, he could imagine just how trapped in pleasure Ray could be when he actually does fuck her.

 That would be for another day though, for now, this was good, this was a damn good start.

 Rachel’s alluring sounds, her eager sucks, and the grooves of her tastebuds tickling against his body, Isaac was more vocal than ever because of it. Every hot breath that he huffed out, a moan was sure to follow. Heat was gathering in Zack’s loins, along with those familiar hard throbs again, he needs to keep going to reach his peak. Ray herself was lost in everything, with every suckle, she emitted her out moans and purrs, her fingers pleasuring herself, while she made sure her mouth stimulated Zack to the best of her ability. She could feel Zack pulsing in her mouth, squirm a little from the throbs aching on Zack’s member, and taste a growing surplus of precum filling her mouth.

 ‘He’s letting out so much...I don’t know if I can take it all…’ Ray thought to herself, ‘...I...I still can’t get enough of it though...it’s his...it’s Zack’s…’

 That thought alone aroused her, making Ray thrust her fingers much quicker inside herself, while her other hand juddered fairly quick on her pulsing little bud. She hummed a longer moan this time, and felt Zack shudder in response.

 “God...do that again…” he whispered.

 Rachel glanced up at Zack for a moment, and hummed out another long moan. Isaac’s hips jerked in response, followed by an excited grunt, before rolling his pelvis yet again.

 “Almost there...keep makin’ me feel good, Ray…” he panted.

 She did just that, making her sucks, fairly firm, while continuing the barrage of moans. Pleased with every action Ray did, Zack let one of his hands comb his fingers through her hair.

 “Nnh...good girl...ah...yer’ amazing, Ray…” Zack said in between moans. “I-I can feel it...gettin’ closer…”

 Heat and stimulation were pooling between his legs more and more, what was once a gradually building sensation became more of a growing wildfire of pleasure. Rachel’s mouth was indeed different compared to how she pumped him with her hand, and he was enjoying every second.

 ‘He’s getting bigger...swelling up...am I sucking on him too hard?’ Ray pondered to herself, noticing a slight change in girth from Zack, ‘he’s feeling incredibly hot...and his body keeps beating wildly…”

 Zack’s cock was starting to swell a little, mostly around the head and balls, he could feel that pressure growing ever strong with the constant push of his hips. In and out, he could feel himself getting closer and closer to the climax. His hips twitched, as the need to really stimulate his cock was driving him mad. He wants to go faster, but he knows he might lose himself in Ray’s mouth.

 “N...Ngh...R-Ray...gonna need yer’ help...I’m about to cum...do what ya’ did last time, move quickly, as fast as you can go…” Zack panted, “I’m losing control of myself.”

 This meant Rachel has to put pleasing herself on a brief pause, but it was a fair exchange to hear Isaac raw moans again, she pulled her hand back from stimulating her clit, and brought it to grasp the shaft of Zack’s member. She pulled back for a moment to prepare herself for what was to come next, then signaled to Zack that she was ready, by gently swirling her tongue along the head. As soon as she slid her mouth down on him again, she began to bob her head fairly quickly, picking up the pace like last time.

 “Ngh!...Y-Yeah...just like that…” Zack purred, “...don’t stop.”

 All Ray’s focus was on helping bring Isaac to his climax, she suckled and slurped every inch she could take in, keeping the rhythm going, while Zack shuddered from the impending pleasure that teetered around the corner. His hips wanted to continue the thrusts, the ache grew much stronger, as well as the heat. It gave Zack that small sense of frustration that his orgasm was right within his grasp, but just out of reach. His moans were constant, with every heated breath that escaped his lips, they were strained from his tone of voice, but hinted that he was starting to feel that lingering pleasure beginning to take hold.

 They both could feel his hard throbs, but Isaac sensed his body starting to cave in to ecstasy.

 “Ray…!” he gasped, “...mh!...Cumming!”

 The woman held onto Zack’s hips firmly, bobbing her head a little more, just to keep him in place. Zack hunched over onto the chair, exhaling a long and gratifying moan, while his hand pressed down on Ray a little. His vision hazed, his body was trapped in primal pleasure, and relief was just about to wash over him.

 Rachel continued her eager sucks, tasting the flow of pre coming out from Zack, but then something else happened. Ray could feel those constant throbs along the shaft with her tongue, along with lively twitches and squirms. As soon as her ears rung with Zack’s heavy moans, something hot splashed inside of her mouth. She uttered a grunt of surprise, yet, it continued. With every squirm, more of the contents spurted into her mouth in heavy flows. She needed to pull back, her mouth was going to get full if she let it continue. Rachel picked herself up to let her mouth slide off Zack’s pulsing cock, she covered her mouth for a moment to prevent whatever she had from spilling out, but then felt more of the warmth catch her. She could feel it, some of the heat was on her face and her breasts, she glanced at Isaac’s member, and could see smaller eruptions of white escape from the tip. Maybe she should’ve endured a full mouth, than to have gotten unintentionally dirty with Zack’s seed.

 The contents in her mouth, it was much hotter than the pre she lapped up hungrily, and the taste differed as well. It was much stickier, primal, lustful, many words to describe this forbiddenly sweet taste that coated her tongue. It’s Zack. There was no way she would ever want to spit it out - if Isaac hungrily drank her up, then so would she. So, she downed the contents.

 Rachel get to taste Zack’s true flavor, and it gave her goosebumps.

 Isaac panted heavily, his vision slowly getting clearer again, yet, his body continued to shudder from the lingering haunts of pleasure along the shaft of his cock. He’s pretty sure he was spent, yet, he continued to feel sensations between his legs. He carefully motioned himself to stand straight and glanced down, noticing Ray was suckling on him again.

 Like with her hand from all the past times of jerking him off, she wanted to make sure every drop left his body, and she was going to lap it up.

 Isaac brought his hands to Rachel’s shoulders, and gestured that she was free to stop now.

 “Nhh...it’s all out now, Ray…” Zack softly moaned.

 Rachel slowly pulled back, her eyes meeting his, as she slowly dragged her tongue against the very tip one last time. Yet, it wasn’t her lustful expression that surprised Zack, it was her appearance now.

 “Ah sh-shit...I got ya’ dirty…”

 Rachel was planting tender kisses on the man’s thighs, his shaft, and even at his undercarriage, showering him with erotic affection.

 “It’s my fault...I pulled back,” Ray said, kissing at his skin some more, “I should’ve stayed and took it all. I wasted it…”

 Isaac let out a short chuckle, “Waste? Not like that was the last of it...though, I’m gonna have to admit...seeing ya’ like that...it’s pretty fuckin’ hot…”

 Rachel faintly blushed, this was so lewd and dirty, but it excited her so much, her fingers were still inside of her, while her body was aching for attention again.

 “I’ll take ya’ to the shower...but you need to finish up first…” Zack said, “here...spread yerself open…”

 Ray paused for a moment, but did what she was told, she wants relief now. Zack gave her a sly and arouse grin, seeing her legs spread out, and present the actions she was doing before having to stop. Fingers still deep inside, soaked to the core, with her little bud throbbing from arousal.

 “Mmh...nice...you can pull yer fingers out,” Zack said, then brought his hand to the base of his cock.

 “Y-You’re putting that in?”

 Isaac rose a brow for a moment, then quietly laughed, “Right now? Nah, I’m spent...I still got that extra bit of time before I’m no longer hard. I just need the room. I do need ya’ to keep yerself open for me.”

 Reluctant at first, she slipped her digits out from her, Zack watched with eager anticipation to see the juices cling to her digits, and licked his lips to recall her flavor. He could lick her again to help her finish, but his desire to try one more new thing overruled his hunger. Rachel brought her slippery digits up and used them to spread her lips open, giving Isaac complete access to her womanhood. Zack gently caressed her inner thigh, then moved to close the gap between their hips. Rachel’s face was red again, watching Zack press his spent cock against her, feeling his pure heat against hers, it made her a bit anxious, but it also felt wonderful. The lingering rigidness of Zack’s shaft seemed to fit quite snugly against her folds, and the length of his shaft could easily stimulate it and her pulsing bud.

 Zack gently grasped Rachel by the hips to keep her in place for what he wanted to do next. Thrusting in her mouth was incredible, as with her hand, but the need to move his waist against something else was another drive that plagued his mind, this will suffice until both had the nerve to try intercourse for the first time.

 Soon, Zack began to move, rolling his hips against hers, and letting out a couple huffs from his previous orgasm being teased out. Ray herself threw her head back for a moment, the heat was rubbing firmly against her, and it made her utter a pleased yelp at first.

 “Heh...if ya’ weren’t a mess, I’d kiss ya’” Zack chuckled.

 “Nh...m-make up for it...i-in the shower,” Ray said in between moans.

 “Done.”

 Isaac began to pick up the pace, he wants Rachel to finish, and he knows she wants it too. The woman began to move her hips in response, grinding against each other in a sensual rhythm that just worked together. Isaac slide against Rachel’s slick folds, feeling himself get wet by her abundance of juices dripping from her, this only made his thrusts slide on her much smoothly.

 “Aah!” Ray moaned loudly.

 “Almost there, babe?”

 “Nh...y-yes!...R-Rub a little more upwards...mh!” Ray pleaded.

 Zack pulled her hips closer to let his cock pay more attention to her clit, and continued the swift movement against the sensitive bundle of nerves. Rachel’s legs shook hard, and her toes curled, he’s rubbing at the right spot that demanded the most attention. Her thighs were feeling hot, the pleasure was incredible from having Zack’s natural and primal heat exciting her. His thrusts were wild, but they were gentle when they needed to be. She could feel her own climax drawing nearer, and watching Zack fuck her thighs only fueled her arousal.

 “F-Faster!”

 “Nh! Don’t need to tell me twice!” Zack barked, moving his hips much more swiftly.

 Rachel could hear the sounds of Zack’s body colliding against hers, his hips hitting against the back of her legs during this swift moment of friction. Their grinds were only making the erotic flames between then grow stronger, pooling more and more between their loins. Isaac knows his hardness was starting to fade, so he needs to bring Rachel to her orgasm as quick as possible.

 Then he could hear it, those strained moans that signaled that she was reaching the peak, his hands held onto her firmly and lifted her hips up to press it against his, rubbing as hard and pleasantly fast as he could.

 “Zack!...A-Ah! Aaah! Zack!” Ray shrieked in pleasure.

 “Louder,” Zack growled. “I wanna hear ya’ scream it, Ray…”

 Ray struggled to find breath for a moment, letting out huffs at first, until her body gave way. Her legs immediately coiled around Zack’s waist, locking tightly against him, her body was trembling, and her back arched. Her climax was finally reached and she felt her body becoming possessed with the blissful pleasure swarming from her thighs.

 “Aah!...ISAAC!” she cried out.

 Zack stood there for a moment, stunned she called out his whole name in the heat of passion, watched her very expression change to that of sexual delight, and felt her body throbbing hard against his. It left him with a love-struck expression that clearly said - Damn, that’s my woman.

 His hips returned to moving against her, trying to keep Ray in the clouds for as long as possible, hearing her pleased moans being sung out throughout the room, and sensing her cum against him. Zack slowed his hips down, as he heard the woman’s moans turn into heavy pants, signalling that her few seconds of pleasure was coming to an end. As he finally ceased movements, he let her sit there for a moment to catch her breath, while he carefully pulled his cock away from her. Now he too was soaked and dirty, they both needed to shower badly to wash off this intense session of lust.

 “Zack...mhh...Zack…” Ray purred.

 “Back to your senses?”

 “Y-Yeah...haah...that was intense…” she panted, “I...I didn’t think rubbing together like that could feel so good…”

 Zack chuckled, “Or getting sucked...which one ya’ liked better?”

 “I...I think I liked your mouth on me more…” Ray sheepishly admitted, “you really went all out on it.”

 “Heh...I was fuckin’ hungry,” Zack replied, “I’d love to do it again whenever. Then again, you were amazin’ doing that same thing to me too...like you already knew what you were doing.”

 Rachel tightened her lips for a moment, “...Th-that’s because...I kind of...memorized your pleasure spots.”

 “Dirty girl.”

 Ray let out a slight huff, then gently caressed Zack’s abs, eyeing his body, and seeing he had become soft again.

 “Hey Zack...since we kind of pushed - well, shoved ourselves out of our comfort zones. I think maybe next time, I want to try making love to you…” Ray mumbled.

 Zack’s eyes widened, now feeling his face burn, “W-wh...you really mean it?”

 Rachel nodded with a sweet smile, “Like you said, you’re the only one I’d ever want to do this with. You’re the only person I want to have my body feel whole. I know I want you more than anything.”

 “Anything?”

 Rachel pointed to Zack’s knife in the wall - she wants him more than death. That moment of passion seemed to be a perfect signal of their wants and desires, and that made the man let out a short laugh.

 “Y’know...I never really summed up th’ courage to tell ya’ this...but I love ya’ Ray…” he said with a pleased smirk.

 Rachel’s heart thudded against her chest, she knew he did all along, mostly by actions alone, but this was the first time to actually hear it - solidifying the proof of his feelings towards her. She wiped a couple tears from the corners of her eyes, then lowered her legs from Zack’s hips.

 “Hurry and take me to the shower please,” she said, “or I’m going to kiss you right away and get you dirty.”

 “Heh, alright...we should clean up,” Zack said, helping her to her feet.

 From all the pleasure she’s felt, her legs did wobble a little, and had Zack hold her up by the hip to keep her from faltering. There, the two made their way to the bathroom, washing off the evidence of their passionate moment together, but at least it freed them from that feeling of being dirty, and gave them a chance to kiss - as promised.

 To experience new things, a little experimentation needed to be done. That’s how their relationship began to bud, and it showed signs of continuing to grow into something more.

#fanfic sin #fap material i mean literature

[anghraine]

“the words are all escaping” - fic

I tried to wrap this up last night, but ... ajkdfjdf finally!! 

fandom: Star Wars

characters: Jyn Erso, Cassian Andor, Leia Organa, Luke Skywalker; Jyn/Cassian

verse: script AU (overlaps with and continues in tongues and quiet sighs, while more directly following from threshold of a dream, part of the past, but now you’re the future, and waking up in a minefield)

length: 6.2k

stuff that happens: Months after the destruction of the Death Star, Jyn and Cassian remain inseparable, bound into a relationship they can’t quite define, and a rebellion that’s hiding out on an ice planet. Naturally, they’re models of self-awareness, maturity, and open dialogue.

This was written for @therebelcaptainnetwork​’s Friday prompt, “Surprise,” and this one from @skitzofreak:

It all sounds wonderful but if you ever felt like exploring SW languages again, I personally am enamored of the whole “language of Alderaan” theme going on in your Now You’re The Future series.

The obvious option for those prompts seemed to be Jyn’s decision to learn Alderaanian in in tongues and quiet sighs, and what happens after, so there’s that. But it’s really more about language and words in general, what goes unspoken and what gets said, and how that takes Jyn and Cassian from waking up in a minefield to quiet sighs and beyond.

How did this possibly spin out of control? The world may never know

So not exactly the prompt, but I hope you enjoy anyway! :)

last time on the Script AU:

Jyn waited, silent. Words did not often come easily to her, and she knew better than to risk them when she didn’t understand. Cassian, though, always found something to say; he’d find words sooner or later.

If she thought about it, Jyn would have guessed that Cassian grasped about half of what she didn’t say. For one, they rarely needed more than a few words to understand each other; some things she could communicate without even that much. Others he picked up on, whether she meant him to or not, because—well, spy.

It all started, though, with one of the few issues that Jyn and Cassian did openly discuss. At length. They didn’t want to, of course. It was just that, with them, you need to go to the med-bay couldn’t really be negotiated in glances and a few muttered (Jyn) or pithy (Cassian) words.

On Cassian’s side, he hounded her to see a medic for every trifling cold or fever. Sometimes they turned out to be more than trifling, fine. But not most of the time. 

Jyn would have shrugged off his fussing, but she wasn’t that much of a hypocrite. Even months after their escape from Scarif, she had yet to release her iron grip on Cassian’s medical care, particularly when it came to the spine he’d smashed defending her. If that made her overprotective, well—for one, he had all the self-preservation of a TIE pilot, and for another, he didn’t seem to mind. Cassian wasn’t a hypocrite, either.

Usually.

“You’re going to get your implants evaluated,” she informed him, six months after the Death Star exploded over Yavin 4.

Cassian had just collapsed onto their bunk with a relieved sigh. Now, he turned his head just enough to peer in her direction. “Since when?”

“They recommend biannual check-ups.” Jyn still loathed the doctor, whose name she had long since forgotten, but she thought she could trust him that far. Mostly because she’d seen Cassian starting to hide a slight limp. And he tensed whenever he changed position—not noticeably, to others, but very little about him ever escaped her notice. Amazingly, losing everyone else she ever loved made her a bit watchful of the one person she had left.

“They recommend, not require,” he said, disappearing into their four blankets. “It’s not safe.”

(Jyn had stolen three of the blankets on recruitments. The first time, she shrugged smugly when Cassian stared and asked how she’d managed to steal a blanket larger than she was. The third time, she agreed that yes, they should probably give the extras to other people, and no, she wasn’t going to. He didn’t ask again.)

“Not safe?” Jyn asked, more puzzled than irritated. She tossed her datapad on the desk and slouched in their one, very uncomfortable, chair. “You think they’ll try anything with me there?”

A muffled snort was just audible. “No.”

Jyn waited. She was very good at it, when she bothered to be.

At last, Cassian said, “It’s the anaesthesia. I don’t know what I’m saying until it wears off.”

Half a dozen snide responses sprang to mind. Regretfully, she suppressed all of them.

“I know that,” said Jyn. “Last time, you said that I was poetic.”

“Did I?” She thought his voice actually trembled. “I wasn’t thinking of, ah, that.”

“You also asked me if you were a cyborg,” she said, giving up on the chair and the chilly temperature of their quarters at night. Worse than chilly. Even Jyn got cold on Hoth.

After the galaxy’s quickest change of clothes, she grabbed the datapad and one of the blasters she’d discarded with her holster, and climbed into bed. Shivering, Jyn tried to find some opening in the tangled mass of blankets, with no effect until they gave a dramatic twitch and lifted.

She crawled under, stowing the blaster under her pillow. Cassian didn’t do that, but he was painfully careless—except about organization—when he felt safe. Jyn never felt safe. Not completely, and certainly not with the Empire combing the galaxy for them. Fine, it didn’t seem like Imperial spies ever managed … anything, given their total failure to find Alliance bases over twenty years, but you could never be sure. And Jyn had good reason to know that Rebels sometimes defected, if very rarely; they just didn’t tend to live long afterwards.

(Cassian tried to keep her from those missions, at first. Jyn, whose qualms about murder did not extend to traitors, simply packed as usual and slipped into the ship before he arrived. When he found her in the co-pilot’s chair, he opened his mouth to say something stupid and unnecessary, so Jyn just propped her boots up on the panel—which he hated—and stared at him. They never exchanged a word about it, but after the fourth time, he gave up altogether and Jyn kept her feet on the floor.)

Jyn gave an exasperated sigh when she saw Cassian under the blankets, sprawled lengthwise on his stomach. He often slept that way, and the thin bed had to be hell on his spine, but she wished he wouldn’t leave his back unprotected. Jyn scooted closer, keeping her back firmly on the mattress, the door in sight, and her blaster in reach. Then she pulled one of her legs back and took out her datapad, resting it against her thigh.

Cassian turned his head to peer at her. “What are you doing?”

“Making the appointment,” she said.

Startled, he propped himself up on an elbow. “You can’t—”

Watch me, she thought, and brought up the medical logs. She wasn’t lying; without a pause, she clicked on the appointment panel and started tapping. A, N, D, O—

“Jyn, no.” Cassian tried to grab the datapad, but she was faster. Jyn pinned down his free arm and held the pad away.

After a moment’s consideration, she narrowed in on his weakest side. “You won’t be any good at field work if you fuck up your back. Are you seriously going to risk that because you say stupid things when you’re high?”

He winced. “It’s not that. Let go of me.”

She did, keeping a suspicious eye on him.

“It’s too dangerous,” he told her, in a patient tone that she always found exceptionally grating.

Not for the first time, Jyn wished that Kaytoo had survived. They hadn’t been close, as such. He was Cassian’s. Not his property, but a companion, a friend. Jyn wouldn’t have called him her friend. But she’d been willing to guard him with her life after two weeks of bickering. She’d gotten a kick out of the bickering, honestly. She suspected she’d get even more of a kick out of Kay’s response to the fact that Cassian won’t get his cybernetics upgraded was an actual sentence that existed in the galaxy. A true sentence, even. In his memory, she concluded that the odds he’d have taken her side were probably about … eighty-six percent.

Cassian closed his eyes. “Jyn. What are you thinking?”

She wasn’t one to turn away an opening, least of all when it required only the truth. “That Kaytoo would have already dragged you to the med-bay.”

He flinched.

“You think he wouldn’t have insisted on upgrades?” she said ruthlessly.

After a thin, sharp breath, Cassian said, “Kay didn’t have much of a grasp on secrecy.”

She nearly rolled her eyes. Anaesthesia left him outspoken and distracted, but inane chatter hardly counted as dangerous revelations. Only Cassian would consider his passing thoughts secrets. But it seemed strange that he’d consider that worth risking his fitness for fighting the Empire. Unless … wait. He thought it unsafe, not merely undesirable. Danger, secrecy, loss of control—

“You’re talking about giving up intelligence?” asked Jyn, moderately annoyed with herself.

“What else would I be talking about?”

“You?” She shook her head. “Oh, nothing.”

Cassian heaved a sigh and gave up. Pushing the blankets away—Jyn grumbled in protest—he dragged himself upright. Fine. Jyn sat up, too, much more smoothly, and stuck the datapad under her blaster.

“Do you really think I’d let you betray the Rebellion?” she said. “To those people?”

He smiled faintly. “I forgot that you disliked the medics so much.”

Undeterred, she pressed on, “You do really think so.”

“No!” Alarm flashed into his blank expression, and his hand twitched on the blankets. “I told you, not if you’re there. It’s just … not certain you will be, and I could say anything.”

“Not certain?” she repeated. “What are you talking about?”

They’d both spent enough of their lives identifying shapes in the night to make each other out. Jyn, aware that he would see past the slanting dimness, scowled. Hopefully, it would look more menacing than usual in the shadows.

He dropped his gaze to his hands, splayed out just in front of him. “You might not be there. That’s fine, but …”

“I wouldn’t leave my cat alone with people who have to be terrorized into basic ethics. Much less my—” Her frown deepened, and she made a vague gesture in Cassian’s direction. “Whatever you are.”

“You don’t have a cat,” he said, thankfully ignoring the last bit.

“I might if you didn’t keep saying it’d freeze to death or get eaten by taun-tauns.”

“Well, it would,” said Cassian.

“Not if—” About to expand on her cat-related grudges, she snapped her mouth shut. He’d almost won, there. “This isn’t about the cat I will one day acquire. It’s about you going to the med-bay.”

With a cautious look, and the slower speech he used when picking his words, he said, “It’s not that I distrust you.”

“Do you know something I don’t? Is there a solo operation coming up?” She’d never had one, not without Cassian lurking around or at least back in the ship, but Jyn wouldn’t put it past Draven. Even with open antagonism gone, he was harsh, demanding, and near as paranoid as Saw. Not vindictive, usually, but he might have some warped Draven logic for separating them. Or maybe—

Horror crept up her spine. Jyn felt her eyes widen.

“Wait, are they reassigning us?”

“No, no.” Cassian looked appalled. He grasped at her hand, his voice falling into its most soothing tones. “Nothing like that. It’s only that I can’t … I don’t assume—”

“That I’ll stick around when things go bad?” she said coldly.

Cassian sighed and started to unclasp her fingers. With a glare, Jyn seized his wrist, making no attempt to gentle her grip.

“It’s not bad, Jyn. Just a little uncomfortable.”

“It will be if you don’t get those implants repaired,” she retorted. “But you’re right.”

Cassian eyed her with very reasonable skepticism. “Oh?”

“Yes,” said Jyn coolly. “It’s probably a minor adjustment that won’t even take much time. Choices are so difficult, though. Missing a couple hours of paperwork or leaving you to betray Rebellion secrets? I just don’t know.”

He fell quiet, responding to neither the sarcasm or the argument for a good minute. Even then, he didn’t speak, just frowned and dropped his gaze to their linked fingers. Jyn thought she’d been quite clear, really, but Cassian studied her palm as if he might find some revelation in the callouses and lines.

Not a performance, Jyn realized. He knew she cared, but he didn’t understand. For all the furious protectiveness that lived in her skin, her blood, he didn’t see it. Cassian, who saw so much. He didn’t know.

Jyn had no idea what to say. Strung between residual annoyance and shock, Jyn felt a rare urgency to find some words, however inadequate, but they all blanked out of her thoughts.

For no particular reason, her mind instead jolted back to the hangar on Massassi. Not the electrified gravity that sprang into being as Cassian approached, the thrill of trust and more, but Kaytoo slouching over to her. His voice had fallen into a Kaytoo approximation of friendliness.

I’ll be there for you. Cassian said I had to.

“Jyn?” As usual, Cassian looked concerned—the sort of concern that moved rapidly towards fear. That was pretty usual, too.

“You’re pinching my fingers,” replied Jyn, which was about the last thing she would have chosen to say.

Cassian relaxed his grip, thankfully without trying to withdraw again. “What is it?”

“Listen,” she told him, fumbling but determined to barrel through. “You’re going to get your spine checked, and I’m going to be there. I won’t let anything dangerous happen. Is that good enough?”

The shadows obscured him, but Jyn saw Cassian wet his lip, the way he always did—except undercover—when he felt unsure or tense.

Evenly, he said, “You swear that you’ll stay?”

It was one of the only things he’d ever asked of her. A staggering amount of trust, too, when she thought of Cassian, and the Rebellion, and—

She knew he trusted her. She did. She couldn’t possibly have doubted it after Rogue One, had no reason to doubt it over the months since, would be outraged at anything else. Still, something in her flared bright. Outside of their team, burned away on Scarif, nobody else had trusted her in a very long time. Rightly so, except her mother and Saw, but she … it was … she didn’t know. If she couldn’t describe the nameless thing between them, she could think: there’s nothing like this.

Jyn rolled her eyes and lifted her free hand. “May the Force strike me down if I lie.”

“And you’ll see a medic, too?”

Her throat itched, with more than emotion. As she’d done for the last three days, Jyn swallowed down on it.

“What for?” she demanded.

The tickle got worse. Cassian, who'd been ignoring his crunched spine, fixed a steady gaze on her.

Jyn scowled. “Are you planning on using words sometime soon?”

“You coughed all night.” Somehow, he managed to make his voice and expression even more neutral than before.

“Not all night,” she insisted, though she honestly didn’t remember. “Anyway, the only problem is the air. It’s too dry. And cold, obviously. There’s nothing—”

She was babbling. From Jyn, that could only make her ten times more suspicious than she seemed already. Sure enough, Cassian’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s not any drier than usual.”

Jyn opened her mouth to say something dismissive and crushing. She would have, too, but instead she caught her breath and snatched her hand away, just in time.

Damn it, she thought, and sneezed.

In the few seconds it took to Jyn to open her eyes, Cassian had already filched the datapad and started typing.

“That better be for you,” she told him.

“Mmhm,” said Cassian, not even trying to sound convincing.

She wiped off her hand on her sleepshirt. “Cassian. It’s a cough.”

“You’re too careless,” he said.

“You’re a cyborg!”

They glared at each other, more obstinate than angry. Jyn tried grabbing at the datapad, but Cassian kept it from her by the simple expedient of holding it above his head.

“I could take you,” she threatened.

He lifted his brows. “But my spine, Jyn.”

That was cheating. But Cassian had no compunctions whatsoever about cheating, except when it didn’t matter. Not that a few sniffles really mattered. Just to him.

Annoyance and cough notwithstanding, she felt a quiet pleasure at that. Memories of those years when nobody cared whether she lived or died always remained with her, icy undercurrents to every thought or feeling. Against those, Cassian’s incessant worry shone, set her alight even at its most irritating.

Like now.

“I’ll go if you go,” he said.

Jyn folded her arms, trying to think of some alternative. Nothing sprang to mind. “Fine.”

“Fine,” Cassian retorted, and pulled out of arm’s reach to finish her appointment. She could have wrestled him for it, but he was right, damn him; she wouldn’t risk hurting his back. Instead, she waited until he finished and relaxed his guard, then lunged for it, checking the last message. Sure enough: ERSO, JYN and a line of symptoms more detailed than she herself had noticed.

Vindictively, she typed ANDOR, CASSIAN and started listing everything from her real concerns to the most trivial observations she could think of.

“Headaches and chills?” he said when she finished. “On Hoth?”

“Don’t want to be careless,” replied Jyn.

They both mumbled under their breaths as they retreated back beneath the blankets, though Jyn felt more grumpy affection than anything else, and no doubt Cassian did, too. When he twisted around to lie on his stomach again, she made her sigh as long-suffering as possible, but set a steadying hand against his back.

After a long moment, Cassian said into his pillow, “Want me to go with you?”

Startled, Jyn blinked. She hadn’t thought about it.

“I know you don’t trust them,” he added.

“Yeah,” she muttered. “It’s not a big deal, but you can. If you—”

“Okay,” said Cassian, and that was that.

When he woke after his repairs, Cassian didn’t say anything about the Rebellion, though he did prattle on about her eyes for a good three minutes. Jyn thought about disrupting that, too, but decided against it. She didn’t … mind, and he wouldn’t remember anyway. But she added her enjoyment of Cassian on anaesthetics to her collection of things I will never tell him, ever. He always turned unfocused and clingy and peculiarly sweet, at least with her, and—she preferred his real self, but it was nice in its own way.

The first time, she also turned out to have bronchitis, which Cassian was insufferably smug about. But he acceded to the one-year appointment without any infection to bargain over, and Jyn sat nearby and distracted him with inane questions when he so much as hinted about past or present work. It wasn’t difficult; even the simplest questions could kick him into incoherent tangents—she still wasn’t sure how have you tried the eggs? they’re terrible turned into a grisly description of his sisters’ deaths, and that into liking flowers.

The third time, a year and a half after the Battle of Yavin, Cassian made the appointment himself. He didn’t even ask Jyn if she would accompany him, just assumed she would and gave her the day and time (two months beforehand, of course). But things were a bit different by then.

Most significantly, the Rebellion no longer regarded Jyn as an unreliable accessory of Cassian’s, useful as a symbol and muscle and little else. Even Draven had come to treat them as a unit, Andor-and-Erso, rarely in need of differentiation. They treated themselves as a unit, staying within arm’s reach whenever possible, more soothed than electrified by casual touch.

Even in bed, they slept tangled up instead of sticking to the careful distance they once maintained. They’d been too starved and nervous to dare more, at first. But when they had nightmares, or worked themselves into dead exhaustion, or got sedated for some reason or another, Cassian would curl himself about her, and Jyn started to feel cold and uneasy when he didn’t. She didn’t say so; that stayed the same. Instead, she yanked him hard enough that he ended up sprawled over half her body, face against her shoulder and arm braced over her waist. They both laughed, but they did sleep that way more often than not, mostly because Jyn rested better with an arm over his unguarded head or back, and Cassian with her heart beating against him.

Also, they were warmer that way. 

That did matter, given that they both hated Echo Base as much as ever, and couldn’t escape on missions near as much as they would have liked. Hyperspace might be cold, but it was nothing like that, and they both felt more at home on their ship than anywhere else. There, they could complain, or adapt codes, or fuck, or go over mission plans in peace, or anything. They even shared the occasional memory as they flew—not mentioning why it mattered, or any significant detail, but they were children of the revolution and needed few explanations.

The thing was, whether they slept in their quarters or their ship or some miserable hide-out elsewhere, they trusted each other, if no one else. Jyn and Cassian did fight now and then—not frequently, but the doors just about iced over when they did—they’d seen and done too much together to doubt much of anything.

Yet for all that, the changes didn’t seem much more than a bit. They’d felt themselves an inextricable pair from Scarif onwards. From almost the moment they set foot on Jedha, they’d hovered and grasped at each other. Jyn realized she’d trusted him when Cassian slipped away to kill her father, and she trusted him again when he went rogue for her. And they still spoke in silences, or in circles, or not at all. Hell, Jyn had yet to find a word for what they were to each other: too stable for lovers, too dependent for partners, too fierce for companions, too much for friends. Maybe Cassian knew a word in his language, but that hardly helped.

In any case, their whatever-it-was had Jyn stubbornly parked beside Cassian’s cot for the third time. Since the medic turned out to be a mild-mannered doctor who immediately and persistently addressed Cassian in Alderaanian—something nobody else had ever done—Jyn had plenty of time to come up with potential tangents.

She didn’t use any of them. 

Cassian woke in a sleepy haze, smiling as soon as he saw her. “Estás aquí.”

Jyn knew exactly seven terms in Alderaanian: infanta, capitán, hola, bien, cómo está, qué, and viva la rebelión. She frowned, though she could guess at this one.

“Hey.”

He boosted himself by his palms, sitting up and glancing around. “Pensé que …”

Qué was “what,” but add another word and she had no idea what he was talking about. Jyn took a stab anyway.

“I’m always here. How do you feel?”

To her increasing alarm, he didn’t respond in any way except to look dazedly at her. After a few minutes, he spoke again, still in Alderaanian. But it was too long and rapid for Jyn to even guess at. 

“Cassian, I can’t understand you,” she told him.

He unleashed a bright smile and said something else, just as incomprehensible. Nervous, Jyn switched on her datapad’s recorder.

By the time the doctor returned, he’d spent a good forty minutes earnestly talking to her, carrying on a one-sided conversation in total obliviousness to her confusion. Jyn had no idea what he said, no idea if he might be betraying some secret, no idea of how to uphold her promise. Cassian didn’t even seem to notice that she wasn’t responding.

Perhaps it would have seemed less bizarre if he ever used his language with her. Now and then, Jyn did hear people mixing scraps of Alderaanian in with their Basic—but never Cassian. As far as she could tell, he thought in Alderaanian when he spoke in Alderaanian, and in Basic when he spoke in Basic. Whether that was true or not, he certainly kept his languages as strictly regimented as he did everything else. On very rare occasions, he did forget random words or phrases in Basic, but he didn’t replace them with Alderaanian, just talked circles around the sudden blanks until she guessed what he meant, or he remembered them himself.

The exception to his rigid separation—the only exception, as far as Jyn could tell—was Leia Organa. He invariably addressed her as Infanta or Doña Leia. Even so, he didn’t use those elsewhere, only with Leia herself.

Really, thinking back, the only time Jyn could remember hearing any significant amount of Alderaanian from him was in the first weeks after Scarif. They had fairly safe, low-classification missions while Cassian finished healing, but those missions often involved Alderaanian. Mostly, though, it was because they needed a co-pilot while Jyn learned to fly, and they got Shara Bey. 

She was technically an X-Wing pilot, but divisions in the Rebellion were more like guidelines, and she could fly anything. She also came from … Jyn didn’t remember, but another ex-colony. Anytime Bey didn’t expect Jyn to be present, she spoke to him in Alderaanian and he responded in it. That mostly meant that, as soon as she overheard them, Jyn halted where Bey wouldn’t notice her and Cassian could pretend not to. 

The two of them might be the most staggeringly attractive people Jyn had ever met, but it didn’t have anything to do with jealousy. She wouldn’t know that if it clubbed her with her own truncheons, except when it came to Cassian’s obnoxiously perfect aim (and she always crushed him at hand-to-hand, so). But Jyn liked listening to them talk. Although she didn’t want to be weird about it, she found Alderaanian remarkably pleasant. And she felt an obscure satisfaction at hearing Cassian use his own language, the one he’d grown up with, and dreamed in, and carried on every syllable.

At least usually. Right now, Jyn sat frozen in horror, recorder notwithstanding. She’d promised and she had no idea what he was saying and it could be anything—

She’d always sort of wished that he didn’t switch every single word to Basic with her, that she could understand what he murmured when they were safe and waking up together, what Antilles or the princess or Dameron called out in the halls. It could be useful, too. She just … she never said anything. It was his choice, and Jyn didn’t have the time, and none of that mattered.

Staring at him as he cheerfully chattered on, Jyn thought: yes, it did.

She would damn well make the time.

On consideration, Jyn didn’t ask Cassian to teach her Alderaanian. She didn’t even mention it to Cassian. If asked, she couldn’t have given any better reason than I don’t feel like it, and probably wouldn’t have bothered with that much. A shrug, maybe.

In fairness, the things Jyn didn’t mention to Cassian could have filled the Death Star—if it still existed, hah. They included, but were not restricted to:

For all her complaints about learning to fly, she’d actually enjoyed it. His irritation just amused her.

In retrospect, neither survival nor fighting the Empire were luxuries.

Back in the beginning, she’d been relieved that he was so skittish. Before him, Jyn rarely risked unnecessary touch, still more rarely liked it, and almost always had a secondary motive. She felt pretty sure it was the same for Cassian.

Jyn didn’t bother making friends because a) she didn’t much like people, b) Rebels tended to the loud and obnoxious, and c) Cassian was all she wanted. It wasn’t purposeful, and she’d never leave. (She felt definitely sure it was the same for him.)

Jyn knew that Cassian resented it when people assumed that he, or Bey, or whomever, felt any sort of personal grief over Alderaan. (Even though he had too much decency to say so, even in private, even to Jyn.)

She also knew that people joked she was his new droid. Jyn didn’t care. Anyone who thought Kay could be replaced wasn’t worth her time.

She enjoyed the brief period when they’d barely kissed, but let people believe they were a couple. They did it solely because intelligence preferred to bring in the spouses/partners of spies, and they were determined to work together or die together. But it was fun.

Although Jyn had certain issues with Cassian’s obedience (not as unthinking or as omnipresent as she’d once thought, but still more than she’d like), she did sometimes wonder what it would be like if—maybe—in other contexts—anyway.

She rescued a tooka-cat when they stopped for fuel on the way to Jedha.

She had no idea what to call their relationship. They loved each other, certainly. But she couldn’t pinpoint any fundamental change since they left for Scarif, and didn’t really believe one existed. They were we and us and Jyn-and-Cassian; she could think of nothing else, except home.

In short, Jyn could keep her mouth shut and her feelings inconspicuous when she wanted to. It was what made her, against expectation, such a good intelligence agent. She certainly could keep her secrets, even (sometimes) from Cassian.

The only difficulty came when Bey turned out to be stationed halfway across the galaxy, and Jyn had to ask Princess Leia for a recommendation instead. She neither liked nor disliked Leia, who had the same unforgiving idealism and brisk competence as Cassian, but without any of his restraint or caution. She respected her well enough, however, and Skywalker, too. That formed part of the reason Jyn didn’t wait for him to leave, though a smaller part than her suspicion that Leia already told him everything.

Regardless, Jyn was quite genuinely taken aback when, instead of offering a recommendation, Skywalker and the princess invited her to study with them. It turned out that the two of them had already been trying to teach each other their ancestral tongues: Alderaanian for Leia, some obscure Tatooine language for Skywalker (Soliskan?).

“All right,” said Jyn. She had some reservations, mostly about keeping it from Cassian, but couldn’t think of any better alternative. Belatedly, she tacked on, “Thanks.”

It worked better than she expected, for a stupid reason. All sorts of people had been pulled from across the Alliance to support Echo Base, regardless of their actual specialties, stuck in work that required approximately zero brainpower. 

In fact, the main hangar appeared to be run by another intelligence officer, a Major Derlin. Jyn wouldn’t even have known he was intelligence if not for the fact that a) Cassian and Leia had mentioned his extremely striking moustache, and b) he’d been Cassian’s first commander, and earned his still-burning hatred by trying to “fix” Kay. Jyn thought about it and adopted his antipathy, but even so, sticking spies in base administration? Saw would have never wasted people like that.

Spending half her time doing mundane tasks on base didn’t improve her low opinion of Alliance Command. It did help her go over lessons in her head, though.

On the bright side, it turned out that Leia (unsurprisingly) and Skywalker (very surprisingly) could keep secrets, too. Cassian knew that she was up to something, of course, but not what, and the fearless duo never gave her away. For a good four months, Jyn ran through vocabulary and conjugations as she made rounds on taun-tauns.

She still couldn’t understand much of what she heard, and only bits and pieces of what she and Skywalker dug up to read. But she could say some things, and know what they meant, and why. Occasionally, she even had to guard herself against reacting to little bits she picked up. It’d be a long stretch she didn’t understand, then sangre, a shorter stretch, tiene que, and a few words later, volcán, and she’d have to tamp down on the what the hell? that immediately sprang to mind. Jyn decided that counted as progress.

At the end of those four months, deliverance arrived. Not linguistic deliverance, but by that point, Jyn would have accepted the deaths of several languages to get off Hoth.

She arrived in their quarters to find Cassian packing … everything, as far as she could tell. Not that either of them had much, but—

“What’s going on?” she demanded.

“Good news,” said Cassian, nodding at the datapads on their bed.

Jyn left Cassian to organize their clothes—they were both happier that way—and went over to see. Her datapad was blinking yellow: not an emergency, but urgent. They hadn’t gotten that one since … she had to strain to remember.

Since we get posted on Echo Base.

She was already smiling as she flicked the screen on.

REASSIGNMENT: SUBTERRA BASE, CORONET CITY

“Corellia?” Jyn burst out. Without even thinking about it, the smile broaded into a wide grin. “Thank the Force.”

“It’s dangerous,” said Cassian in his most sententious tones, setting a second bag aside to turn to her. “A Core planet, lots of Imperials, lots of criminals …”

She beamed. “I am a criminal.”

“Well, we’re all—”

Jyn was scoffing even before he managed to finish. “Please. You’ve never met a decent rule you didn’t love.”

His sigh and shake of his head would have been more effective without the crooked smile that accompanied them.

“This isn’t temporary?” she asked. “Or wasting us on maintenance again? We’re going to be doing actual work out of Subterra?”

“Looks like it,” said Cassian. He bit down on his lip, halfheartedly restraining himself.

She read over the few details on her datapad. “I’ll take a wild guess that the base is below the city. There are a ton of enclaves down there, if I remember right.”

Nodding, he said, “Yes. I’ve only got a few contacts, though. We haven’t really dealt with Corellia beyond ship components and such, and I’ve never done much with acquisition.”

“Opportunity calls,” said Jyn lightly. “I’ll take an underground base over an ice one any day. And I know some people.”

Cassian slanted a glance her way. “I’m sure you do.”

“Coronet is amazing, too,” she said, and started stripping the bunk with infinitely more enthusiasm than usual. “If we don’t get ourselves killed. They’ve got all sorts of people, and they sell everything imaginable. You won’t believe the coats.”

“You got into the Corellian black market for coats, hm?” He looked very solemn. “And here I didn’t even know you liked them.”

Just yours, she very definitely did not say.

“Oh, yeah,” said Jyn. “You know me, blowing my credits on nice clothes in a place with thousands of illegal weapons.”

He gave up, eyes crinkling and creases denting his cheeks. “Sounds like you.”

They finished their packing in cheerful silence, aided only by the occasional smile. At the end—after resisting the impulse for a good twenty minutes—Jyn moved towards Cassian as casually as she could. He’d notice, but come up with his own explanation.

Neither said anything, not needing it, and she waited a few seconds for them to settle back into stillness. Then she grasped his shirt and pressed their mouths together, enjoying his muffled sound of surprise near as much as their lips and mingled breaths, his hands sliding up her back and her fingers in his hair. For one oxygen-deprived moment, she thought of licking into his mouth, pushing him into the bed—

No, she told herself firmly. They’d packed and the ship would be warmer.

When Cassian pulled away, a little breathless, he said, “I didn’t make the decision.”

“I know,” Jyn replied, and kissed him again.

Just a little, though. They had places to go and data to steal. Within the minute, Jyn and Cassian slung their bags over their shoulders and headed out.

Graciously, she left one of her blankets behind.

There were no tearful goodbyes. They didn’t have the networks of affection that people like Skywalker and the princess built up. Jyn did send a brief message to those two, thanking them for their help and wishing them well, but that was about the extent of her on-base relationships. By the time she and Cassian reached the hangar bay, Jyn itched to be gone, enduring a not-brief-enough discussion of their objectives with Draven before climbing into the ship.

“I’m not sure you ran away fast enough,” Cassian called out after her, once the doors slammed shut behind him. “He might have missed the point.”

“Worrying about Draven’s feelings definitely keeps me up at night.”

He actually laughed as he made his way to his seat, flicking on switches and controls. Changes came in flickers and waves: the building roar of engines, the cockpit lighting up, the control panel humming to life. She always felt that there was nothing quite like that very specific moment—those few suspended seconds when stagnation transformed into action.

For all her impulsivity and his caution, they were the same in this. They needed to be doing, not just thinking about it.

“Back to the real fight,” he said, with the exact note of satisfaction that she felt.

Jyn had waited months for the right moment. This, she thought, was it. But it had to be just right. She took a deep breath and counted to four.

Carefully, she said, “Que la Fuerza nos acompañe.”

Cassian started so violently that he dropped his headset. Turning to her, he stared without a word, lips parted in utter surprise. Then he smiled brilliantly—still incredulous, but smiling.

“When did you learn Alderaanian?”

“I didn’t,” said Jyn, “not really,” but words kept tumbling out of her mouth. “I mean, I’ve learned some things, not many, it was the princess and … I thought I should know. Or that I … it’s useful, right?”

Cassian’s smile faded, but only to a softer one. “It is.”

To her intense relief, he left it at that. She had no idea what else she could say. But in this moment, Jyn was happy, and Cassian was happy, and that seemed like enough.

“Okay.” Jyn picked up the headset, listening carefully while Cassian recovered his seatbelt and adjusted the controls. After a few minutes, she exhaled. “We’re cleared for take-off.”

They looked at each other.

“Que la Fuerza nos acompañe,” said Cassian, and they escaped into the sky.

#therebelcaptainnetwork #skitzofreak #promptfic #script au #otp: welcome home #star wars #jyn erso #cassian andor #luke skywalker #leia skywalker organa #this is ... jfc idek #way more WALLS OF EXPOSITION than i would have liked and a gazillion tangents and. so forth #also i was trying to avoid spoilers for the end of minefield #and working within the plot restrictions #aaaaand 'well i guess it has surprises and alderaanian IN it so that counts???' #but i still like it anyway so it gets to be posted :P #anghraine's fic