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taurussoulastrology · 3 months

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Black Moon Lilith Through the House's

What house is your Black Moon Lilith occupying?

In astrology, Lilith represents the part of you that is in the shadow. It is something that is painful and we try to avoid facing it whenever we can. However, from time to time we are forced to discover it and work through its issues. The house where your Lilith is located in your birth chart tends to be quite problematic. Lilith is rebellious, wounded, traumatized, and she expresses herself in a destructive way. Keep in mind that the Moon governs the domain of the unconscious, and Black Moon Lilith manifests on this level too. This makes it even harder to understand these problems and integrate them in a constructive way.

1H🖤Lilith in 1st house tends to give a reserved but intense presence. Your energy is felt no matter if you want it or not. This placement is somewhat similar to being a Plutonian. Lilith in the house of self suggests a proud, strong person who refuses to compromise and whose will is expressed. The higher octave of Lilith in 1st house is being independent, authentic, powerful. You have a strong will and your boundaries are strong as well. You hate to be stepped over. Others might label you as selfish, but you know that this has to do with them, not with you. However, these things are usually learned later in life. When young, you can feel misunderstood all the time. Your self-defense mechanisms can be weak too. The first house is a physical house as well, related to your body and physical appearance. Lilith in 1st house can indicate body image issues. The interesting thing is that people with this placement often possess a magnetic charm, but they can’t accept themselves. Often, Lilith in 1st house indicates that taking care of your body and paying attention to your looks was frowned upon in your childhood environment. As you mature, you learn to accept your body and that humans are material beings as well. Once you work through your issues, Lilith in 1st house grants a powerful appearance. You are charismatic and there is something about you that makes people turn their heads. Lilith here can make you radiate with sexual energy. You are quite sensual as well.

2H🖤Lilith in 2nd house suggests that your sense of worth is affected by early experiences with pain and even trauma. People with this placement often have low self-confidence. They can feel that they are worth less than others. Often stemming in childhood, this is one of the biggest challenges of Lilith in 2nd house in the natal chart. Maybe you were bullied for your choices, taken advantage of, or people denied your right to exist. People with Lilith in 2nd house often feel that they are not good enough. When Lilith is placed in the second house, it has to do with your self-esteem, value system, the things that support your existence in the physical world. People with this placement value freedom, independence, dignity. Lilith in 2d house can indicate a desire to become financially successful. Your desire for power can be satisfied by money. Stability is one of your main priorities with Lilith in this house. Lilith here can indicate that you had to experience loss. This could affect your sense of security. People with their Lilith in 2nd house can be quite possessive because of this. They can believe that power lies in possessing. They want to own and feel that getting what they want will bring them peace. This placement can be a drive to build wealth. Lilith in 2nd house tends to believe that money is power, which is one of your priorities. Sometimes people with this placement can be reluctant to share.

3H🖤Lilith in 3rd House. The 3rd house is a cadent house. Lilith here influences your thinking process, your communication style, your mind. People with their natal Lilith in 3rd house tend to have an intense inner life. They are receptive to subtle influences around them, and they can be highly sensitive. With this placement in your birth chart, sometimes you can fear that the intensity of your thoughts will drive you crazy.Lilith in 3rd house people have a sharp mind, unless Mercury is severely damaged or there are some other challenging factors in the chart. Their thinking process includes every detail and they consider every possibility. They are witty and cunning, especially when they grow older and gain life experience. When Lilith falls in the 3rd house, your early life was likely not without troubles. People with this placement often had challenging relationships with their relatives and people close to them. You can struggle with getting your point across. Sometimes Lilith in 3rd house in the natal chart indicates communication disorders. You are an independent thinker who doesn’t take things at face value. You want to understand them in-depth and want to be in control of your thoughts.

4H🖤Lilith in 4th House

The most important life areas linked with the fourth house are home and family. If Lilith is close to the IC, its influence becomes more emphasized.People with their Lilith in 4th house often feel that they are not safe in this world. Because of this, Lilith here is one of the hardest house positions to deal with. It can also mean trauma related to ancestors/transgenerational trauma that still influences you and causes you anxiety.Lilith in 4th house can suggest that you don’t feel welcome in your own home. This can be particularly daunting in childhood. Sometimes people with this placement even had to endure abuse at home. Their parents often cannot give them the security and protection a child needs. A feeling of betrayal very often colors the childhood. This placement suggests that one of your parents embodied the traits of Lilith. They were strong-willed, independent, and they wanted to maintain their autonomy at any price. They might had to face many challenges in life and survived very painful events. In some cases, they managed to integrate this experience and become wiser and stronger, but this was not necessarily the case. Lilith in 4th house can indicate that they passed on their pain to their children. They might have been manipulative, controlling, domineering.

5H🖤Lilith in 5th House is supposed to be a place of joy in the birth chart. When the dark themes of Lilith come to expression in the life areas connected with it, unfortunately this is rarely the case.Lilith in 5th house is a sign that what brings others joy it brings you pain. People with this placement can feel that fun and light is denied from them. This placement can infuse your young years with its heaviness. Lilith in 5th house indicates that you had to meet pain way too early. Your inner child is be scarred with this placement, ashamed of wanting to play and have fun. This influences your life as an adult, because Lilith here cannot get the love and joy it desires deep down. The fifth house is all about creativity. Lilith in 5th house stifles it. It suggests a paralyzing fear of expressing who you are. It can also inhibit being spontaneous. People with this placement can be afraid of just going with the flow and following their heart. If Lilith in 5th house is overcompensated, it can manifest as letting your desires get out of control and hurting yourself. It is very hard to find balance.

6H🖤Lilith in 6th House you often feel that they have to give more than other people, but they often receive less. This placement can manifest as a fear of not being good enough. It can poison your everyday activities, indicating habits that don’t serve you and a resentment towards self-discipline.People with this placement desire to be close to someone, but at the same time, they don’t know how to do it in a healthy way. They tend to be unaware of their own Lilith qualities and project them onto others. It can indicate partners who are self-willed, not willing to compromise, in extreme cases they can be abusive. People with this placement can be so perfectionistic that it prevents them from getting things done. Lilith in 6th house can indicate impostor syndrome. You can be obsessed with doing your absolute best, but you lose too much time fussing over the details. Being efficient is a challenge with Lilith here in the natal chart. It is hard to relax. People with this placement can be pessimistic and depressive. Depending on the rest of the chart, they are often strongly attached to reality. According to Lilith in 6th house, dreams equal delusion.You don’t believe in things not visible to the eye. This can make it hard for you to find purpose in things.

7H🖤Lilith in 7th house suggests destructive relationships, at least until you learn how to integrate it properly.People with this placement desire to be close to someone, but at the same time, they don’t know how to do it in a healthy way. They tend to be unaware of their own Lilith qualities and project them onto others. It can indicate partners who are self-willed, not willing to compromise, in extreme cases they can be abusive. Lilith in 7th house suggests destructive relationships, at least until you learn how to integrate it properly. People with this placement have a deep desire to unite with someone. They can feel that they are incomplete on their own. Lilith here wants to commit, but at the same time, it is afraid of it too. People with their Lilith here tend to reject marriage. Their parents were in many cases divorced or lived in a destructive relationship. Is Black Moon Lilith in 7th house destined to be alone? No, but relationships are not easy with this placement. Many people with this placement have their best relationships later in life. Lilith in 7th house people are afraid of letting someone close and going close to someone. They are especially afraid of losing their freedom, but at the same time, they crave attention. When young, Lilith here can be involved in affairs where they are the third person in a love triangle.

8H🖤Lilith in the eighth house suggests that you are familiar with the darker side of life. If something is superficial and ignores the rawness of reality, you are not interested. You are able to notice things others don’t, and you are fascinated by taboos and the occult. You discover layers of existence most people never have to face. Lilith in 8th house is a very sensual placement. People with this placement enjoy being seductive (it is a source of power for them), but they often have issues related to intimacy. This placement suggests psychological issues and painful memories that prevent you from letting go and enjoying sex. Lilith in 8th house knows too that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. You have a lot of experience with hardships and pain. This placement suggests a very deep interest in psychology, especially in discovering how your own psyche works. People with this placement are almost forced to meet their shadow self. For you, self-awareness equals power. It is important for you to be in control. You are afraid of being helpless and you want to make sure you are safe. You can feel very vulnerable. There can be some blind spots that you don’t notice in your own personality, which are your weak points too. You can fail to see things objectively. Bad judgement causes Lilith to undergo deep transformation and reevaluate herself and her relationship with the world.

9H🖤Lilith in 9th house is one of the more positive houses in the birth chart, being a fire house and the natural house of Sagittarius and Jupiter. However, it is also the house of expansion, and Lilith here can make a more profound impact.As you grow older, you often realize that you have a completely different value system than what you were taught as a child. Your teachers (and authority figures) could be either very inspiring or you found them repulsive and felt restricted by them. Sometimes this placement indicates power struggles with your teachers. Your relationship with religion is often colored with disillusion, betrayal, strife. In some cases, this placement can suggest that you were forced to follow a religion, what was very painful for you. Faith and church are often the same thing in your eyes, and you can refuse both. Lilith in 9th house can indicate changing religions, or completely abandoning them. People with this placement may have lost their faith in life in general, and at some point they are likely to be atheists. Pilgrimages might be n important turning point in your life. Lilith in 9th house can suggest troubles with education, even though Lilith here loves learning and is in general curious. Issues are the most expressed during higher education. Some people with this placement drop out in college (if there are other indicators in the chart too), others struggle with finishing their studies and do so with delay. This position of Lilith suggests that you learn the best on your own.

10H🖤Lilith in 10th House this placement indicates that one of your parents (often the father) was unavailable to you. Maybe he was there physically, but he did not give you the love and support you needed. He might have been domineering, cold and overly demanding. Black Moon Lilith in 10th house suggests a desire to accomplish great things in order to prove to this parent that you are worthy of love. Power struggles are also likely in the relationship. In some cases, Lilith in 10th house can indicate a divorce of the parents, or even the loss of a parent. You are driven and ambitious and you do not want to settle for mediocrity. It is important for you that you make an impact in the world. At the same time, you are self-conscious too, particularly at a young age. Lilith in 10th house can indicate anxiety and fear of failure in the public eye. You can be scared of what others might think about you. As you grow older, you become more self-confident and in many cases, Lilith here desires to take up a public role. It enjoys being in the center of attention. This placement often manifest in subtle, refined ways, similarly to Pluto. Lilith here suggests that you are charismatic, come across as powerful and attractive, but you are mysterious too. People with this placement know how to influence others and they understand the human psyche very well. This doesn’t mean that they are manipulative, but if they have to, they know how to manipulate others to get what they want.

11H🖤Lilith in 11th House

Needless to say, you are a loner with this placement. You are in many ways different than most people around you. You can have different views, different hobbies, even look differently than others. However, this doesn’t make fitting in easy. Lilith in 11th house is often an outcast. People with their Black Moon Lilith in 11th house don’t feel safe to connect with others and it is very hard for them to fit in. They might have been bullied. This placement suggests a strong but unusual personality. People who have this placement often find that their peers are jealous of them, try to undermine them, or stab them in the back. Black Moon Lilith in 11th house can be a black sheep placement. It is a very painful position of Lilith in the natal chart. As the house of hopes and dreams, the eleventh house is a quite important one in the natal chart. Hard placements here can slow down your progress in life and make it harder to achieve your goals.

12H🖤Lilith in 12th house suggests an interest in the occult and esoteric teachings. Mysterious things attract you. Lilith here can even be drawn to cults. You are interested in psychology, religion, spirituality too. This places can even indicate psychic ability. This placement is a deep, mysterious one. You are sensitive, intuitive, empathetic, however, Lilith here can also manifest as being detached from these. You are receptive to the energy around you. However, Lilith in 12th house is prone to deceptions. It can also struggle with having firm boundaries. This placement indicates a tendency to help others at your own expense. Lilith in 12th house is suppressed deep in the subconscious. It suggests an enhanced sensitivity and a need for introspection. It can go both ways: you are either fascinated by your unconscious, or you try to deny its existence. You can be afraid of the supernatural, but at the same time, you are more receptive to it than most people. Unless there are more reserved placements in the birth chart, you don’t like being alone. Hard twelfth house placements suggest that you don’t see clearly sometimes when it comes to relationships. Lilith in 12th house can indicate a tendency to become a victim. People with this placement often don’t notice telltale clues early on, and they can fall prey to manipulation. Lilith in 12th house people sometimes suffer from nightmares. Vivid dreams and deja vu experiences are also common.

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antianakin · 1 year

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MY STANCES ON CONTROVERSIAL CHARACTERS ARE AS FOLLOWS

Anakin Skywalker: This one's fairly obvious, but I'm one of the people who doesn't see Anakin as redeemed by the end of ROTJ just because he saved one person he personally gives a damn about. My definition of redemption is about atoning and making amends, and Anakin has no possible way of actually DOING THAT for most of the things he's done, so there's no real way of acquiring redemption. He can be a better person, he can be forgiven by individual people for things he's done to them, he can keep choosing to be selfless instead of selfish, but none of that necessarily means he has to be considered redeemed. If you think he's redeemed at the end of ROTJ and that's what brings you joy in your interpretation of the story, great, I honestly don't care. But if you choose to come into my notes and get mad at me because I don't think the space fascist is redeemed just because he decides to save his own son, you will now be blocked on sight, I'm done having that conversation with people.

The Jedi As A Whole: Wonderful people with a beautiful culture that never did a single thing to deserve what was done to them. They were not corrupt, they didn't need to reform their culture in a single way. There was nothing more they could've done for Anakin or the Republic that would've stopped what happened. They don't steal children, they adopt them from parents who choose to let their children lead a better life, and become part of the large extended Jedi family. They are intergalactic therapists whose literal way of life IS therapy for those who choose to follow it. They were outplayed, but they did everything they could've possibly done. Sometimes, it is possible to commit no mistakes, and still lose. That is not a weakness. That is life. (Side note here: This is an incredibly pro Jedi blog, if you come on my blog and criticize the Jedi in any way, you will be immediately blocked, I am so done with this fandom's anti-Jedi sentiments, consider this your warning.)

Padme Amidala: Deserved better from the Prequels, has such potential and promise and I want so dearly to save her from her toxic ass marriage to a fascist MAGA manchild, but damn am I glad Luke and Leia didn't have to grow up with her as a mother some days.

Bo-Katan Kryze: I wish I could like her, but the writers are making it SO HARD. They don't seem to ever remember that she gleefully set an entire village on fire because they dared ask for their enslaved people back and to not be occupied anymore, but I do.

Satine Kryze: I wish I could like her, but I don't have enough nostalgia for her to overlook how bad the writing is for her. She treats Obi-Wan like garbage, brings out the worst in him, acts very arrogantly about just about everything and never has to take responsibility for her own mistakes so she gets to die a martyr.

Aleksander Kallus: Literally has to have his ENTIRE BACKSTORY retconned so he can be "redeemed" within the span of one episode. Also manages to "All Lives Matter" Zeb into thinking that judging Imperials for their fascist choices is the same as judging an ENTIRE SPECIES on the actions of one individual who was acting in self-defense anyway. Stop saying he's got the best redemption arc in Star Wars, it sucks fucking ass and he's not a fucking Fulcrum, he just stole the title from Ahsoka and didn't earn it and he was a shit spy anyway.

Crosshair: Bigoted dickhead who treats everyone like complete crap and then goes full fascist as a punishment for the world when no one wants to risk their lives to save him. His redemption arc was completely half-assed and he should've had to do a LOT more to gain people's forgiveness and absolutely no one should've been forced to apologize to HIM.

Bode Akuna: Basically just Anakin lite and we all know how I feel about Anakin. No sob story justifies anything he's done and I didn't find him all that interesting or sympathetic, personally.

Rafa and Trace Martez: I actually loved them, I thought they had an interesting relationship with each other and with Ahsoka, I appreciated how different they felt and the arc Ahsoka goes on with them. I don't mind that they used them to showcase the rising anti-Jedi sentiment among the citizens of Coruscant, I just wish their opinions hadn't been presented as though they were right. I love that we see they've joined a rebellion of sorts post-Order 66 and I wish we'd gotten to see more of Trace, Rafa, and Rex working together rather than the absolute trashfire that we're actually getting on TBB.

Ahsoka Tano: Relationship status: It's complicated. I DO like her, generally, but I REALLY dislike the way she's constantly written in later stuff to be better than everyone else and to have basically zero flaws so that she can end up like a messiah or a goddess of light reborn or something. It's boring, it's annoying, and it just isn't any good. I particularly don't care for how she consistently gets utilized to bash the Jedi Order and absolve Anakin for all of his sins. Ahsoka deserves better, but I'm also immensely frustrated with where her story's taken her and the way fandom tends to treat her. We also just straight-up need more main female Jedi characters and as long as Ahsoka's around it feels like it'll never happen. She's completely irrelevant to the story overall and I'm annoyed at how much Felony is trying to make her more significant than she is instead of just letting her stand on her own for once.

Sabine Wren: I love the Rebels version of her, but the Ahsoka show version sucks. I have decided it simply does not exist for Sabine. That isn't the real Sabine and it never will be. That's not Sabine's story, the real Sabine would never try to be a Jedi because quite simply she doesn't NEED to be. And the real Sabine would NEVER disrespect Ezra's sacrifice by undoing it and then leaving him to deal with the fallout. It's stupid, it's ugly, and Sabine deserved better.

Hera Syndulla: Much like Sabine, I love the Rebels version of her, but the Ahsoka version sucks. The Ahsoka version deserves to be kicked out of the army or whatever, she's a terrible mother and an even worse General and quite honestly not that great of a friend. The real Hera would NEVER act like orders didn't matter just because she doesn't like them or refuse to see the logic in letting go of Ezra after he's been missing for 10 years so that those resources can go to people who they can confirm are still alive.

Shin Hati: She's so so so boring. She has the personality of cardboard, it basically consists of "crazy eyes" and that's about it. She is pretty literally just Darth Maul but a girl. Like every single part of her character so far is indistinguishable from Maul aside from the cosmetic stuff. I hope she dies in season 2 and never gets a redemption arc. I'd say Sabine deserves better, but honestly Ahsoka!Sabine deserves her.

Grey Jedi: Stop trying to make fetch happen. It's not going to happen. Let Grey Jedi stay in fanon where it belongs, none of your faves are Grey Jedi in canon and they never will be.

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anarchotahdigism · 4 months

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I know i say "wear a mask and riot" and "fuck a peaceful protest" but I'd had a nice long post about how digital work and advocacy is praxis (or can be) on my old account. Right now, COVID is spreading and killing thousands of people in the US alone and nearly all """radicals""""" and """""leftists"""" are philosophically no different than the fascists they claim to oppose because they are so thoroughly wedded to eugenics that they refuse to wear and enforce masking. COVID causes long COVID in 10-30% of cases so the so-called US alone may well be a majority disabled nation now due to rampant eugenics forcing the spread of COVID. Long COVID is a rotting death and makes everything an order of magnitude more difficult if you still are able to do the things you were prior. Repeated COVID infections means you're guaranteed to be immunocompromised permanently and disabled in other ways you'll likely find out the hard way. With 40% of cases being asymptomatic and most only showing severe symptoms after 2-3 infections, and many starting to drop dead after 3 to 5 infections, many people accrue damage from and spread COVID without realizing it until it is far, far too late. As a result, it's guaranteed that the ableists have disabled and killed people. They've kept disabled people like me who are high risk out of radical spaces & communities. They've abandoned solidarity for everyone but the abled, ableist middle class while focusing most of their efforts on electoralism, despite the clear and constant failures of such actions. The BLM Rebellion of 2020-2021 had significant---albeit broadly temporary--impacts on electoral politics, society, and communities because it was a constant and ongoing rebellion that was also much more disability inclusive than prior leftist movement moments. For the first time, people recognized the need for remote actions & support because while masking was at the high water mark, more abled people understood that a lot of us disabled could not and would not risk COVID but we had had skills vital to the project. Things disabled people were absolutely critical for during the BLM Rebellion: police scanner observation and transcription, evacuation coordination, event & route planning, translation services, postering, graphics art & design, self defense seminars, radio nets, mutual aid fundraising, mutual aid distribution, bail fund coordination, zine writing, mask & test distributions, contact tracing (remember this??!??!), car brigades, organizing medical supplies, teaching first aid skills, and countless other roles often organized & performed remotely. For every fighter, there are at least a dozen support roles and with some thought and effort, those roles can be aided or done digitally. Posting on its own can be praxis in that it shares information, knowledge, tactics, demonstrates that there are other radicals out there willing to do what they can, normalizes radicalism, and in some cases, regimes pay close attention to internet support.

During the height of the Jina Amini rebellion in 2022, the Iranian regime tried to cut the internet repeatedly to stifle information out of and into Iran to hinder protest coordination and outrage. It also paid extremely close attention to when the rebellion was trending and refrained from reprisals until the mass attention of the internet citizenry turned away. Posting literally helped save lives by forcing the regime to wait, buying people time to organize, prepare, and act accordingly in Iran and internationally. Personally, I will always remember and be grateful for the Palestinians who turned out across the world, but especially in occupied Palestine, for Iranians. Iran is not the only regime that will wait until posts slacken and attention wanes before massacring people. If you are disabled, if you have arrest risks, if for any reasons you don't want to be involved in a radical riot, but you want to support those who can and do, there is so much you can do year round but especially things kick off!! Any skills, resources, knowledge, or support you can organize or contribute is valuable! eSims for Gaza right now are monumental in ensuring Gazans can coordinate information, requests, record Israeli occupation war crimes & apartheid cruelty, and many disabled graphics designers are offering their services in exchange for esim donations. It's been incredible to see.

The people who are against digital activism are ableist and racist and ignorant as hell beyond that. You can make an impact and even save and change lives while homebound. Begging genociders to stop profitable genocides has never and will never work. Riots & boycotts work because they directly confront and attack power and if those actions are supported by communities, they can continue for quite some time, as we saw with the BLM uprising. Regimes do not fall because people ask regime leaders to please stop committing atrocities; they fall when the people are able to bring to bear the sum of their hopes and wrath and bring the fight to those who have been oppressing them. That requires inclusive community & an outright rejection of the regime and its systems of cooptation & recuperation.

If a revolution or movement isn't inclusive, if it excludes the disabled, the poor, the marginalized, the oppressed, it's not a revolution or movement, it's just another genocidal regime change.

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boreal-sea · 3 months

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So here's where I am on all this.

The enemy are not Israelis who moved to Israel or who were raised in Israel with the promise of a place on Earth that was finally safe from antisemitism. The enemy is the government of Israel.

Israel's government needs to immediately pull the IDF out of Gaza. I don't care if Hamas is using Palestinians as "human shields". You're not supposed to shoot the human shields! Netanyahu is just using that as an excuse to kill Palestinians and claim they were "combatants".

Once the IDF is out, Israel's government needs to cease all control over Gaza. No more controlling imports, exports, travel, water, medical care and more within Gaza. Israel's government has been occupying Gaza since their alleged "withdraw" through administrative control. Netanyahu's "excuse" is that they HAVE to do this to control Hamas... even though he was quietly funding and supporting Hamas under the table. Israel's government has made living in Gaza incredibly difficult on purpose. It's cruel.

Is Hamas going to comply with a cease fire? Probably not, because Hamas is, at the end of the day, an antisemitic militant force that wants nothing more than to kill all Jews and evict all of them from the region. They do not want peace. Therefor, they aren't involved in finding actual peace in the region.

The way to deal with Hamas is to make their way of doing things completely undesirable. This is going to involve actually giving Palestinians the things they deserve, like full control over Gaza and the West Bank. Israel's government next needs to help rebuild the thousands of homes and hospitals and buildings they themselves have destroyed. It includes giving them their land and property back when it's possible, and helping them in actually forming a solid government. It involves not treating them like second class citizens within Israel and giving them the same rights as Israelis. Right now the far-right in Israel love Hamas because Hamas destabilizes Palestine.

That's why Netanyahu was literally funding Hamas: so he could have an excuse to continue attacking them, and so they would keep Palestine destabilized. Palestinians are divided and angry and Netanyahu KNOWS this and is actively feeding it and using it to further crack down on and oppress Palestinians even more. He cracks down, Palestinian resentment grows, Netanyahu uses it to fearmonger and gain approval, then he oppresses Palestinians even more under the guise of "self defense". It's evil, to be quite honest.

And that's the other thing. Israel's government needs massive reform. Netenyahu's entire government needs removed from office.

Israel's government needs to stop trying to make Israel an ethnostate, because trying to do so requires them to remove Palestinians from their homes and from their land, and that's a major part of... let's call it trying to wipe out an entire people from the face of the planet. If that's too far for you, it's certainly trying to wipe that group of people away from Israel with absolutely no concern for where those people are supposed to go or live. It's denying them access to their homeland and their heritage. That's pretty fucking bad, in my book.

Israel's government needs to enact some form of Right to Return for the thousands of Palestinians and their descendants who were evicted by Israeli and British forces during Israel's formation and the Nakba. Again, stealing land and expelling people from their homes for the purpose of creating an ethnostate they don't belong to is an aspect of denying people their homeland, and not caring if an entire group of people is wiped from the face of the Earth.

#no I am not tagging this

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songsofadelaide · 9 hours

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"Oh, so the one percenter Officer Hibino and Captain Ashiro were childhood friends?"

You knew better than to partake in office gossip, but it was difficult not to hear things when everyone had been talking about the Third Division's new recruits. They say this year's crop is one of the best, and there was a prodigy in your midst, too, in the form of Director General Shinomiya's daughter, Kikoru. There was no doubt that the girl looked up to her as well.

It wasn't new hearing how many young bloods decided to join the Defense Force because of the cool and level-headed Captain Mina Ashiro, but her astronomical rise in rankings did not come as a surprise to many of the top brass. She had raw yet rough talent— the kind that had to be honed and sharpened like a blade meant to kill.

Ashiro was a genius. A diamond in the rough at first, but now a polished centrepiece of the crown that is the Japan Anti-Kaiju Defense Force.

It's hard to believe now she once looked up to you as her senpai. She still does, but you just don't let it get to your head. While you were glad she overcame her exhaustion ever since Director General Shinomiya took a special interest in her and her abilities, there was no denying that something inside her snapped. She would still rest her head on your shoulder every once in a while when you occupied the baths, and you could find the semblance of her tender, younger self, her lips curved to a small smile at times before she eventually shook it off.

"Does it get tiring?" You once asked her as you sank into the warm baths yourself before the fatigue from today's training further settled in your bones. You could tell that a sigh wanted to leave her lips, but she shook her head instead. "It does, but... knowing everyone gets a night of restful sleep is worth it."

What frustrated you wasn't the fact that she overtook you. It was the fact that she had to be at the top all alone.

They called you a burning star. You reached your prime way too early and burned out fast— and eventually condemned yourself to a fate of mediocrity, never overcoming the wall that both saved you from crashing even deeper and slugged your growth.

UNLEASHED COMBAT POWER: 47%

It was always the same result for the last few years. You try not to look crestfallen when you hear Okonogi encouraging you through your comms. It was no wonder you hit a dead end as a platoon leader. They say people your age should be more accomplished— perhaps a vice-captain... But you didn't dare aspire. Aspiring was for dreamers, and more ideally and realistically, for those just starting out in the force. Old-timers like you don't get to dream anymore.

"I'm not fooling anyone... It's been years since I had my shot at a promotion. I'm not getting any better, either..."

You didn't understand why you were so hung up on the whole thing, either. Ebina was content with how things were, or at least he tried to be... But you would both be lying to yourselves if you said outright that you didn't feel the least bit threatened by the rising stars of the Third Division.

On a particularly warm night, while everyone else was already at rest, you reflected on the events of the day on the base rooftop, your can of black coffee nearly drained as a sigh that gradually turned into a grumble escaped your lips.

"Hmm. Maybe I should consider that fox-faced Vice-Captain's joke and retire early. Even though I know he doesn't mean it... But 30 is way too late to get married, no matter how I look a—"

You were so deep into your self-loathing that you didn't notice the new recruit approach you with his own canned drink in hand. "What? Are you planning on getting married, Platoon Leader?"

"Gah! O-Officer Hibino! Where did you—"

"S-Sorry! I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I just wanted to ponder a bit but I heard you, uh, talking," Kafka said with a crooked smile and hands raised in defence. "What're you saying, though? Don't you know how much skill it takes to raise your combat power to that level? Let alone maintain it..."

"Maintaining combat power is one thing, but not being able to grow any stronger is another. Every single one of the new recruits is eager to skyrocket to great heights. I'm sure you're no different, seeing as you want to... to stand next to the Captain if I heard you right the last time," you stated with a clenched fist, the coffee can only slightly crumpling in your hand. "Personally, I feel like I've... stopped growing a long time ago. Platoon Leader is all I'll ever achieve and I..."

I feel so pathetic.

"Does it really matter? Where you stand and all... Ranks are good and all, but I think carrying yourself with pride is more important," he answered you without missing a beat. There was a shine in his eyes you hadn't seen in a long time. "I know everyone calls you a burning star, but that's not what I heard from the Vice-Captain and Min— Captain Ashiro."

Hope.

"The Third Division stands because of its pillars, but cornerstones like you are important, too. The Captain referred to you as such," Kafka stated with the same crooked yet comforting smile. You've only had a handful of interactions with him, but you confirmed soon enough that he had a kindness that seemed to melt away your worries. "Besides, a burning star is still a star. It's still a dazzling celestial body, regardless of what people say about it, regardless of how burned out it is."

You had to admit that he was pretty cute, too. Then again, Tae would point out that you've always had a weakness for hard workers, so it was only a matter of time before your stupid crush was discovered— Who the hell does this guy think he is? Giving me hope, of all things.

He was a burning star, too, but he burned so bright that you couldn't look away. Maybe he wasn't a burning star. Maybe he was a beacon. Either way... A burning star is still a star. He said it himself.

"Don't retire just yet, Platoon Leader. You're a cornerstone, after all. The Captain needs you still. Besides, don't you want to see us new recruits storm the floor at missions?"

Hope was the last thing on your mind, but Kafka had an abundance of that shine in his eyes that made it hard to look away.

"Soshiro-kun was right about you," you said with a small smile closely followed by a sigh of defeat. "You're way too upbeat for someone who's only at 1%!"

— The Raid on Tachikawa Base

"Tell me something good, Konomi-chan. How's everyone else on the field at the moment?"

"Platoon Leader! You—"

You could sense the shock in Okonogi's voice even through your slightly garbled comms.

"Y-Your unleashed combat power is—!"

UNLEASHED COMBAT POWER: 53%

While that wasn't exponential growth, that was still growth. The first of its kind you've had in years.

"A-Are you okay, Platoon Leader? Your heart rate is increasing!"

"I-I'm fine, Konomi-chan!" You stammered right back, an uncharacteristic flush on your face that your subordinates swiftly took notice of. They hardly had the chance to tease you about it when you groaned to yourself as you fiddled with your firearm. "What the hell am I getting all worked up for?..."

Your combat suit made you feel steamy all over, the heat reaching your joints anew. The surplus of power coursed through your every vein and fibre and made you surprisingly tactless. "I'm hardly at her level!"

Right from the start, you knew that you were competing with a monolith. A phantom from the past... and the present. Mina wasn't your competition. You made that clear to each other from the start. But when you remember the unusual smile that graced her face for a single moment when Kafka gatecrashed the Presentation of Enlistment Certificate Ceremony with that stupid declaration of his—

You were competing with the shadow of the Captain of the Third Division in this stupid thing called love, of all things!

The static in your comms cleared up, followed by Kafka's voice filling your ears, his tone both solid and encouraging, filling you with hope once more.

"Platoon Leader! Don't compare yourself to her! Everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses. Just remember that you're Captain Ashiro's cornerstone! You cover for her in places she can't reach, right?!"

Static, again, before Okonogi sends out a command for your platoon.

"We'll need you on the field soon, Platoon Leader! On the Vice-Captain's order!"

UNLEASHED COMBAT POWER: 54%

"Let's get to work, then!" You declared to your subordinates with a smile that did not suit the situation. But seeing your improved numbers filled them with the same hope that theirs will rise, too. "How could I forget that burning star's still a star?"

#songsofadelaidewrites💛#mari's prompts 🎠#kaijuu 8 gou #kaiju no. 8 #kaiju number 8 #kn8 #kaiju no. 8 spoilers #kaiju no.8 x reader #kafka hibino #hibino kafka #kafka hibino x reader #hibino kafka x reader #things i can't stop thinking abt lol #starry divider by @/cafekitsune

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theplaceicommitmysins · 2 months

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18+ He’s The Next One: 2 - F!Reader X L Lawliet

Surprise! I'm not dead! And this is beta read!

No gendered language is used (Probably). The reader is described as wearing panties and heels.

Wordcount: 3k

Contains: Second person POV, NSFT, Teasing, Edging, Just The Tip, Also The Rest, Enemies To Lovers, Power Imbalance, Dubcon (Alcohol and lying was involved in the first chapter and this is a direct continuation), Penetrative Sex (Reader Receiving), Biting, The reader is a serial killer, Creampie, Semi-Public (Club Bathroom).

Summary/Excerpt: “Should you agree to the terms presented,” You hear a deep shaky breath behind you, “I will see to it that you will be minimally sentenced, and you will be tried with the understanding that you were mentally unwell for the duration of your crimes, believing yourself to have acted in self defense.”

You growl against his hand, fury sparking inside of you as you feel your nearing orgasm begin to slip, only to stop and hold your breath when he hooks his chin over your shoulder and whispers, inflection barely traceable in his voice but present, “Agree.”

For all that it’s a definitive statement, a command more than anything else, you can’t help but think he sounds desperate, like he’s begging.

And if sticking around means you might get to hear him beg for real?

Raising your hand you tap his wrist with two fingers and his grip eases, allowing you to get out the word, “Agreed.”

You aren’t sure exactly how things spiraled to this point with the frog. You were damn near ready to dissect him moments ago. Yet as L pins your wrists above your head with one hand, long fingers so pretty it’s not fair slip your panties to the side, the last thing on your mind is violence. Well, maybe not the last thing but it's not in the top ten. A string of slick connects the lips of your cunt and the crotch of your underwear, breaking off and sticking to the inside of your thigh as he shifts them to the side and rocks his hips against you, rutting until his cock head is pressed against your core.

“For fucks sake-” Your voice breaks at the end, scratchy and used, and with his face this close to yours you can make out the muscles where his eyebrows should have been twitch up as he asks…

“Frog in your throat?”

You are going to fucking end this little man.

But first you’ll need to finish him.

Shifting your hips, you rock down against him, pressing until you feel the dull ache of a slow stretch, the pretty pink tip of the frogs spit slicked cock teasing the opening of your cunt, only to be forced to a stand still as he crushes his weight against you, pinning you against the door.

If your legs weren’t otherwise occupied you’d be stomping your feet about now. For all that you can successfully stalk your prey you wouldn’t consider yourself a patient creature, preferring to get things done yourself as soon as possible and this pervert is denying you the cock kill you rightfully earned. “Just,” Your voice is still scratchy and you’ll be damned if there aren’t tears starting to build up at the corners of your eyes, “Fucking move already.”

You disdain the whine you can hear in your demand, loathe to secede any control but you can feel the steadying breath he takes as he pulls his hips back slightly until the head of him dips slightly out of your entrance before easing back in, slowly fucking himself inside of you.

Shallow thrusts press your entrance open over and over again, just the tip dipping into you and splitting your cunt wide as if the fucker thinks you need to be eased into this, the feeling forcing a needy whine from your mouth as you use the leg not taking your weight to pull his hips towards yours, rolling down and dragging him another inch deeper.

L grunts at the motion, clearing his throat as if to pass off the sound and remain disaffected but you grin a cheshire smile at him, not falling for his mask of indifference.

“So, L-”

“Ryuzaki,” He rudely cuts you off, voice starting to sound a bit strained as he eases another inch of his thick cock into your tight walls, the slick, vulgar sound of the way he presses his body into yours drawing even more heat to your cheeks. “It’s important to remain-nh- discreet in public.”

That startles a snort of a laugh out of you as you jerk your head forwards and to the side before he can react, nipping at his earlobe before trailing kisses down to the stretched out collar of his shirt while continuing to roll against him in a way that feels so fucking good yet so painfully unfulfilling. You unconsciously twist your wrists in his hold as your body demands you be a more active participant, breaking off from the bruises you’re sucking into his ghastly, ghostly, pale skin only long enough to purr out, “Discreet, huh? Nn-Noted.”

Sharp, breathy huffs leave his parted lips as he continues to roll his hips against yours, rocking up against you like he had on the dance floor as he eases he cock deeper and deeper, making you tip up onto your toes to try to get the leverage to rock yourself down and take more of his length inside. For as much as you want this, to fuck and to feel, you need information and he's vulnerable right now so you ask, attempting and failing at his same tone of indifference, “How- Ahn- How exactly am I su- Mmn- Supposed to catch Kir-ahhn-”

L drops your wrists, bringing both his hands to your waist and he drags your hips down towards him forcing the last few inches of his cock into you at once, slamming you to the base of him where he’s thickest and holding you there as he pants into your neck, spit clinging to your skin from parted lips as he finds his words, “I will be bringing you into the team as a consultant in the relevant field.”

You’re glad to have your hands free, needing one to cling to the side of the stall, holding you up, and the other to cover your mouth as your cunt clenches down on the sudden intrusion. He feels thicker between your legs than he did between your lips and the stretch of your muscles as he all but splits you open has you gasping short little breaths into your hand to keep any too loud sounds inside.

Beyond the muffled thump of the bass from the club music, and the ragged breaths of your the frog against your neck as he gathers his composure the bathroom is eerily quiet. So much so that you manage to hear a very soft sound.

A single drip.

Rolling your head back and to the side, whining when L takes this as and opportunity to latch onto the skin of your throat and bite down, not nearly as gently as lovers in the past had done, you look down to see the place where the two of you are joined, the pink of his cock flushed a darker color, the hideous fluorescent lights catching on the spit and slick and pre-cum and- You watch as a drop of your mixed mess slowly drips off in a long strand before breaking and falling to the floor of the restroom.

Your cunt clamps down again and you moan as you press your hand harder against your mouth, wondering passively if you’ll have finger shaped bruises to cover in the morning.

Wondering if they’ll be yours or his.

The feeling of you suddenly wrapping tighter around him as he tries to gather himself plucks at one of his strings of self control, and with a grunt L pulls out halfway, leaving you mostly full, but whining at the retreat before using the grip on your hips to pull you back down to him. The wet slide and slap of flesh on flesh is terribly loud in the empty bathroom, and it draws all of your focus to the spot between you and the way he slides into your cunt like he owns it.

He’s kissing your neck again and your voice hitches in your throat, feeling where his lips press against the rapidly bruising skin and shuddering as a hum passes through his lips, “Fu-uck-”, It’s hard to banter like this, hard to cling to your wit and find a witty reposte as this man, this frog, fucks into you, carves a space for himself as if he has the goddamn right.

I didn’t even get to sit on his face. Yet.

You mentally scramble to remember what you were talking about, what he said, as he rearranges your insides in a public restroom, trying to keep your eyes from rolling as the steady stroke of his cock, and fuck it’s a pretty cock, lavishes the inside of your cunt. The wetness of your pussy cuts down on the friction, only making you more desperate. It takes more than a few foggy moments of skin against skin and dripping sweat, his hands gripping your waist hard enough to leave bruises, and so much heat built up between the two of you, but you eventually manage to quip out a broken, “That better hn-not be how you phra- se it to the cops.”

His lips break away from your skin and his response begins with a cut off moan, and he pauses to take a breath before licking a stripe up your throat, starting as low as he can on your chest and nibbling when he reaches your jaw, before managing to get out, “I wouldn’t worry.” His voice is getting raspy and you feel his chest heave against your own, as he tries to catch his breath and maintain his pace, and his train of thought at the same time, “For all that my team is good at take- taking…” His eyes flutter shut and you note that for later, “… orders, I find initiative is something- mmn- that they struggle with. They won’t deduce anything I don’t spell out for them.” The emphasis he places on ‘I’ is decidedly smug, not in his tone but in the way he drags it out, in the slightest twitch at the corner of his lips, shiny with spit and why aren’t you kissing him?

Like this his lips are nearly as pretty as the tip of his cock, flushed a similar shade of pink, and you lean in and his eyes flick down to your lips, expression slightly softening as he realizes your intentions.

Only for his hips to twitch, and a squeak of a noise to be torn out from his throat as you bite down on his lower lip hard enough to bruise, before sucking it into your mouth and laving your tongue against the indents to ease the pain.

You take a small bit of satisfaction and the way he has to pause, to pull away and gasp for breath like the air in the room has gone thin. You track the bob of his Adams apple as he swallows between gasps, eyes looking a little glassy as they lock with yours, expression flat save for the flush on his cheeks and ears. He can try to pretend to be unaffected all he likes but when you intentionally squeeze your cunt around his cock again, nearly knocking your own breath out from the feeling of being so goddamn full, his knees shake and he lets go of your waist to slam a hand next to your head and brace himself.

L brings his face nearly to yours, flat brown eyes, or maybe black, that don’t seem to catch any of the awful lighting in the bathroom boring into your own as he says, “You will be moved into the task force headquarters where you will remain- uhn-under my w-atch for the duration of the Kira-ah case. Should I have any reason to believe that you…” his eyes flutter shut and he fucks a particularly hard thrust into you, the sound of the stall door slamming into the latch as you’re fucked harder against it making you flinch, before he’s back to gazing into your eyes, unnervingly, “… would assist Kira, the arrangement will be ter- mmn- inated, and you will be arrested for your- hah- previous crimes.”

You drop your hand from your mouth and after pressing your lips against his ear, while moaning feverishly, you damn nearly drool out “Re-mmn-membered what you ca-ame here for, L?” The words are stuttering and halting as his thrusts become sharper and shorter, angling up to hit the front walls of your cunt, the pressure making you dizzy as you struggle for air, a tightness that’s been slowly winding up inside of your pulsing in time with his thrusts, vision starting to blur and ears ringing.

His mouth drops open the moment you call him L, eyes squeezing shut as his hips jerk against you twice out of rhythm before he shoves himself back from you, pulling his dick from your pussy and a whimper from your throat. Quickly the sound twists into a gasp as he grabs your hips and turns you around, shoving you back against the door with a bang as he lines his cock up again, shoving the tip against you hard enough to press in only to hiss and pull back out with a shaky breath.

He’s still gripping your hips, fingers shaking where they dig in against the soft flesh there and the sound of his open mouth panting behind you fills the room.

“Goddamnit- L-”

One of the hands at your hips lets go, snapping up to wrap around the bottom half of your face in a tight grip, silencing you., “Should you agree to the terms presented,” You hear a deep shaky breath behind you, “I will see to it that you will be minimally sentenced, and you will be tried with the understanding that you were mentally unwell for the duration of your crimes, believing yourself to have acted in self defense.”

For all that it’s a definitive statement, a command more than anything else, you can’t help but think he sounds desperate, like he’s begging.

And if sticking around means you might get to hear him beg for real?

Raising your hand you tap his wrist with two fingers and his grip eases, allowing you to get out the word, “Agreed.”

The you shove your hips back against him, forcing the head of his cock to push your dripping cunt open again, and reveling in the grunt he lets out, more than a little proud of how steady your voice comes out as you say, “Now make me cum or I’ll make your life a living hell.”

You feel a shaky breath against your neck and the shifting of his head as he nods before sinking his cock all the way into you in one long stroke. The sound of your sweaty skin pressing together makes a shudder roll through your body, your back arching into his chest as he lets his free hand fall to your shoulder, before digging in harshly and dragging you back onto his cock in time with a sharp thrust;, driving a choked off scream out of you.

His pace is relentless, and when you let your head drop, moving with the motions of his fucking and just relaxing around him, letting the stimulation build back up, you can’t help but notice the shitty trainers he’s still got his feet half stuck into and grin.

You still might kill him for that alone.

The pressure in between your thighs is building in waves as L lets out grunts with each hard buck into your dripping pussy and you let one hand drop down between your legs, the tips of two fingers brushing against the hood of your poor neglected clit only to have the hand smacked away.

L had let go of your hip and replaced your hand with his, the pads of his fingers, slick with your combined cum, rubbing frantically from side to side over top of your slit, making your jerk and twitch and cry out at the sudden onslaught of sensation. L doesn’t seem to care, enjoys the reaction even if his unrestrained moan is anything to go by, and it’s that sound, the sounds of the threads of his composure definitively snapping that caused the build up of tension at the base of your spine to release.

You cream on his cock, clenching arhythmically around him as your hips jerk intermittently away and towards the sensation, mouth hanging open and eyes screwing shut as the repeated build up and subsequent denial is finally, finally, over and you let yourself go boneless on his cock. You earned this orgasm and you decide to shove aside and compartmentalize the background radiation of surprise you feel that it’s the frog who gave it to you. You let yourself float in the moment as you find both of L’s arms moving to wrap around your waist and hold you up as he continues to fuck into you from behind, grounding you and sinking his teeth into your neck right before you feel the sensation of warmth spilling deep in your cunt, timed perfectly with his suddenly imperfect thrusts.

With a last cry of pleasure he pulls away from your neck and stumbles back against the toilet, down onto the seat, taking you with him to land in his lap. Both of you grunt on impact.

L’s arms stay wrapped around your waist as you both take a moment to rest, your eyes shut and chest heaving as your breath and heart rate slow, coming down from your mutual high. The feeling of his cock slipping out of you as he softens draws a hiss from you, the sensation unpleasant as a result of your overstimulation, only to feel him twitch against you again, not quite getting hard but definitely expressing interest.

You blink your eyes open sleepily and turn your head to look at him, then follow the path of his eyes down to where you were previously joined, a little inhale audible from you as you take in the sight of his cum slowly dripping out from your puffy, soaking wet, abused pussy.

“Fuck.” You whisper, tensing up when you feel a soft kiss placed against the side of your neck and feel the arms around your waist tighten.

“Not to worry. Watari will acquire emergency contraceptives after he’s finished collecting your things.”

“Who- Wait, after what?”

Flat, dark, empty eyes lock with yours as you turn to face him, “As previously stated you will be moved to task force headquarters. I presumed you would want your possessions with you so I have taken the liberty of having them retrieved.”

“But… I just agreed! You couldn’t have known-”

The frog interrupts you again, this time by holding a cell phone up in front of your face, pinched between thumb and forefinger.

On the screen is a text message consisting of three emojis to someone listed as W.

A thumbs up. A pill. A baby.

Read.

You are going to kill this goddamn frog if it’s the last thing you do.

Bonus with permission from my beta:

#.Are Posts #.Are Writes #N.SFT #Death Note #L Lawliet #Reader Insert #Smut

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woodelf68 · 3 months

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Every Way Love's A Little Stronger

Very belated fill for last year's @sifkiweek prompt "Volstagg", in tribute to Ray Stevenson's passing. You will continue to live on in our hearts and in our fics. Part two of my Fair Play 'verse. (Non-magic AU in which Thor, Loki, and Sif are college-aged.) 9360 words, AO3 link

Summary: Physically, Sif had come out of the attack with nothing more than a few bruises. Emotionally, it takes the support of her friends and the comfort of Loki's arms around her before she starts to feel like herself again. Rated T.

Sif sat on the curb outside of the gym, the twilight deepening around her, but she made no move towards her nearby motorcycle, too shaken to feel like she should be riding it right now.

"Are you going to be all right?" Karl Skurge, the gym's owner, sat down beside her now that the police had gone.

"Yeah. I mean, nothing happened, right? I fought him off."

"You did, and you should be proud of yourself for that. But you were attacked. I heard what you told the cops, what he said, what he did. The fact that it didn't go very far before you were able to stop it doesn't change the fact that something did happen." Skurge's voice was gentle.

"Yeah, all right." Sif hugged her knees, resting her chin atop them. She'd known the guy, as far as recognising him from around campus. College had started back up two weeks ago, and she'd seen him harassing Jane Foster a few days ago, obviously hitting on her and refusing to take "no" for an answer. Sif hoped she would have done so anyway, but they'd spent enough time together hanging out this past summer -- she and Loki and Thor and Jane (and sometimes Darcy, when Fandral was otherwise occupied) -- that Sif now considered Jane a friend, and she'd gone over and suggested the guy -- Haldor, he was on the football team with Thor -- leave Jane alone, refusing to be intimidated or back down when Haldor had suggested right back that she mind her own business. She'd called him out on being a creep, he'd shoved her, she'd shoved back, and things had only been stopped from escalating further by the timely arrival of Thor and Loki themselves, Thor loudly announcing his presence by asking if she needed any help, Loki endearing himself to her by saying it looked like she had everything under control but he would of course be happy to step in as well if needed for support. Faced with three against one -- or maybe four, Sif didn't know how much Jane could have brought to a fight, but she had taken that self defense course last year, and if nothing else she might have had some pepper spray on her -- Haldor had left with some cutting remark in an attempt to save face, but being forced to retreat had obviously rankled, and he'd been waiting in the shadows for her when she'd left the gym, his breath smelling of cheap beer. Irritation had quickly become anger when he had grabbed her roughly, followed by shock and a brief moment of panic as his groping hands and crude words made it clear what he intended for her. Then years of martial arts classes had kicked in and by the time the gym door had swung open again and Hogun had emerged, she'd had Haldor on the ground and Hogun had helped to make sure he'd stayed there while they'd waited for the cops to arrive, because Sif had found herself saying yes, call them, when Hogun had asked.

Thinking about it, Sif realised something. "It's because he was waiting for me, that's what's bothering me so much. If he'd just been another guy at a party who'd had one beer too many and was getting handsy, I've dealt with that, it wasn't a big deal. But this...it sounded like he knew I'd be here; has he been stalking me? Does he know my schedule, or where I live?" The thought of having to be afraid someone might be lurking in the shadows around her own home was not one she liked.

Skurge squeezed her shoulder briefly. Hogun had left after giving his statement to the police, Sif having assured him that she was fine. "I'm sure you can get a restraining order taken out on him. Do you want to come back inside for a little while? Or are you going to head home?"

"Home, but I'm not sure my head is in the right space for riding right now. And -- the house is going to be empty. Mom's at a neighbour's, playing cards. And I don't want to bother her by calling her, and asking her to come pick me up or anything; she'll know something's wrong and I don't want to talk about it again, at least not this soon." She took a deep breath. She hated how she felt, but talking to the cops had been discomforting.

"How far away do you live? I can give you a lift if you want, and you can come collect your bike tomorrow."

"No, you have a business to run, let me just think a moment." Sif put her head back down into her hands, her ponytail rather frustratingly preventing her from running her hands through it. After a moment she straightened back up as an idea struck her. "Volstagg. If he can come, he can just put my bike in the back of his van; it's big enough." She took out her phone, and hit Volstagg's number. He picked it up on the third ring.

"Hey, Sif, what's up?"

"Hi, I'm at the gym right now and I could use a ride home. If you're not in the middle of anything important, do you think you could come get me?"

"What is it? Engine trouble? Flat tire?"

"No, actually the bike's fine; it's complicated and I'd rather not get into it on the phone. But if you're busy, it's fine, I can -- "

"No, no, it's all right -- hang on, let me double check with Hildegund -- "

Sif waited, hearing Volstagg call out to his wife if it was okay if he went and picked her up.

"Hildegund says it's fine, she can handle the kids until I get back; we were just getting the youngest ones ready for bed. I'll be there in ten minutes tops."

"Thanks," said Sif gratefully. "And bring the van, I do have my bike with me and need to get it home too."

"No problem, I'll see you soon."

He hung up and Sif put her phone away, feeling better already. There was something reassuringly competent about Volstagg; she supposed it came with being a father -- and not just a father, but a father of four kids who made wrangling them all look effortless, taking spills and falls and toddler meltdowns and everything else that came along with parenting in his stride.

"He'll be here shortly," Sif told Skurge.

"That's good." He stretched out his legs comfortably, and leaned back on his hands.

"You don't have to wait with me, I'll be fine, really."

"Eh, the fresh air feels good. I've got time for a break."

Sif couldn't help smiling; with his shaved head and height, Mr. Skurge could look intimidating at first to those who didn't know him -- and he could be as tough as needed when he was in trainer mode if he didn't think you were giving it your all -- but she'd long since learned he had a gentle, supportive side as well. She wouldn't say the word "softie" to his face, but it didn't stop her from thinking it now. And it wasn't like she could call him out about the fresh air, either; while the September afternoons still held the warmth of summer, with the sun setting earlier and earlier each day, the evening air bore the fresh coolness of the oncoming autumn. She tilted her head back to watch the setting sun turn the sky to pink and orange, and it wasn't long before Volstagg's family van pulled into the lot and he cut the engine next to where her bike was parked and hopped out.

Sif stood up, dusting off the back of her jeans and shouldering her duffel bag. "Thanks for waiting with me," she told Mr. Skurge as he stood up as well. "I did appreciate it."

"You're welcome. I guess I'd better get back to work now; you take care of yourself."

"I will," Sif promised. He nodded and left her to head back into the gym.

"Hullo, lass," Volstagg said, sweeping his eyes over her appraisingly after a quick glance at her bike. "You can't simply be out of gas because you'd have told me to bring a can, so do you want to tell me what's up that you can't ride your bike home?"

"Can we put my bike in the van first?" Sif hedged, glad he could not see the bruises that she could feel under her clothing. "I'll tell you once we're inside."

He looked at her a moment longer, enough for Sif to want to squirm under his gaze, but then he nodded and opened the back of the van, taking out the jack that would elevate the bike to the level of the van bed so they could roll it right in. Sif brought her bike over and a couple of minutes later she was guiding it into place on the tarp that Volstagg had already laid down and he was climbing up to help her secure it in place with a bunch of bungee cords he'd brought. Once they'd closed up the back of the van and were settled in the front seats, however, Sif had no more reason to delay. Volstagg looked at her and she took a deep breath.

"I got into a fight. I didn't start it but I ended it. I'm not hurt beyond a few bruises, but...it left me shaken up a bit; I didn't feel like I was in the right headspace for riding safely."

Volstagg's look softened, and he nodded. "I'm glad you called, then. What was the fight about? And what happened to the other guy? If it was a guy...?"

"Yeah, it was, name of Haldor, we'd met, in a manner of speaking, on campus when I told him to get lost when I saw him bothering Jane Foster and refusing to scram when she told him she wasn't interested. And then Thor and Loki showed up and let him know it'd be four against one if he tried to start anything, so he had to back off and retreat. I guess he thought he could reassert his dominance by catching me alone, but that didn't work out as well as he'd planned." Sif's voice took on a note of scornful satisfaction. "He should be at the police station right now, getting booked for assault."

Volstagg was visibly taken aback. "It was that serious? Someone called the cops? Are you sure you're all right?"

"Just some bruises, like I told you." They'd been fresh enough that they hadn't looked too bad yet, but she'd had to show them to the cops to prove there were grounds for an assault and battery charge, had had them photographed. And of course Hogun had been there to back her up, and had testified on her behalf. "Hogun came out of the gym and saw what was happening, and when I had Haldor pinned, he asked if I wanted him to call the cops. I was going to say no, but then I thought about Jane, and what might have happened if this guy had gotten her alone somewhere where no one would see."

She swallowed; this was the hard part. "From the way Haldor grabbed at me, and the things he said -- it didn't go far enough to arrest him for anything other than assault and battery, but I'm pretty sure if I hadn't known how to defend myself, that it would have turned into a sexual assault. And I thought, if I let him walk away from this, he'll think he can keep on harassing women without consequence. So I figured if I could put any kind of a black mark on his criminal record, then it was my duty to do so." She took another deep breath as she finished up.

"Oh, Sif." Volstagg's voice was full of anguish, and he reached out for her hand, unable to pull her into the hug that he wanted to. "I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

"You're already doing it, you're here, you came to get me." She was finally able to look away from the dashboard and meet his eyes. "I just want to go home, except this is Mom's night out playing cards with the neighbours, which means the house is empty, and I don't really want to be by myself in an empty house right now. But I also don't want to have to ask her to come home, because that means I would have to tell her why, and I can't go over it again so soon. I'll tell her tomorrow; I'll have to because of the police involvement, but I just want to forget about it for the rest of the night. I just want to sit down and be quiet and watch a movie or something."

"You know you're always welcome at our place, but I'm afraid I can't promise that quiet. Things are pretty chaotic in the evening getting four kids washed up and ready for bed."

"Yeah, no." Sif thought for a moment, glancing at her watch. She just needed to kill a couple of hours, her mom would be home by then and Sif would have had time to regain her composure and maybe they'd watch something on TV together and then she could take a bath and then head to bed early. But in the meantime...she thought of Thor and Loki's house, where she'd spent so much time over the summer, swimming and playing frisbee outside and darts and board games inside and watching TV or doing puzzles in the den, their parents warm and welcoming from the start. Their house had very much come to feel like a second home to her, and she knew that if she told Loki that she just wanted to watch a movie quietly together with him, he'd be fine with that.

She pulled her hand free from Volstagg's and took out her phone. "I think I'd like to go over to Loki's; I'm going to call and see if he's home."

Loki answered promptly and informed her that not only would he be delighted if she came over, but that Thor had taken Jane out on a date, so they could have the den to themselves to watch whatever she wanted. Also, that his mom had made a peach cobbler and it was a good thing she was coming over tonight because between his father and Thor, the rest of it would probably be gone by tomorrow. Sif smiled at this mental image, and promised she'd be over soon. One of the reasons Frigga was so fond of baking, she thought, was that the menfolk in her family were all very appreciative of her efforts and made sure to tell her that.

"That's good," Volstagg nodded when she told him she was welcome to come over. "Do you want to stop at your place first, drop off your bike and gym things?

"Yeah, I think so. I can walk home from there."

"It'll be dark by then."

"There's streetlights, and house lights, and I can use my phone's flashlight if needed. I do go out after dark, you know."

"Just pointing it out," said Volstagg mildly, and Sif knew that it was because of what had happened, and -- yeah, fair, if Loki offered, she wouldn't object to him walking her home. At her house, they got her motorcycle out of the van and Sif put it in the garage, then ran inside to drop off her duffel bag and leave a note where her mom would see it when she came home saying that she was at Loki's. After that it was just a short ride to Loki's house, located on the next street over in her subdivision, where the porch light was on and Loki was watching for her out the living room window and throwing open the front door for her as soon as he saw her get out of Volstagg's van. Volstagg got out too, though, and came around and enveloped her in a bear hug before she could escape him.

"If that Haldor ever comes near you again," he said in a low voice, "Just let me know and I will rip his balls off for you."

Sif choked on a laugh and hugged him back tightly. "I'll remember that."

Volstagg dropped a kiss on the top of her head and stepped back, giving her a wink. "Can't have anyone threatening my very best babysitter, now can I?"

"I'll sic you on him if he becomes a problem," promised Sif. "But perhaps just a threat would do? I doubt Hildegund would be pleased if you ended up in jail."

"Hm, true. Very well, I can do threats." Volstagg looked like he was enjoying the thought of being able to terrify the shit out of anyone who dared lay their hands on her. "Now go on, your boyfriend's waiting."

Sif grinned, the fact that she had a boyfriend who was gorgeous and intelligent and funny and incredibly sweet still novel enough that she couldn't believe how lucky she was.

"Look after her, lad," Volstagg called to Loki as Sif walked up the front path to join him.

"Always!" Loki called back. "Thanks for bringing her over."

Volstagg raised a hand in acknowledgment as he got into his van, backing out of the driveway as Sif reached Loki and turned to watch him leave.

"Come on in," Loki said, holding the door open for her.

Sif followed him into the kitchen and took her jacket off, draping it over a chair. "So, you mentioned a peach cobbler?"

Loki grinned and got it out of the refrigerator, taking off the plastic wrap that covered it and getting out a plate and utensils and a spatula, cutting off a generous slice and lifting it onto the plate to warm up in the microwave. "Help yourself to whatever's in the fridge to drink," he said.

Sif snagged the bottle of black cherry pop that always seemed to be on hand since Frigga had discovered it was her favourite flavour and sat down at the kitchen table as Frigga herself came into the room and smiled at her.

"Hello, dear, I heard you come in and thought I'd say hello. Odin and I will be in the living room if you need anything. Do you know what movie you'll be watching?"

"Haven't decided yet," said Sif. "Something light." She took her first bite of the warm cobbler. "Mm, good."

"I'm glad you like it; let me know if you'd like the recipe. You can use either fresh or canned peaches."

"Wait till Mom starts making all her apple recipes," said Loki cheerfully. "You can come over one day and help peel."

"I'd like that," Sif said honestly. She had already been drawn into a couple of cookie and pie-making days over the summer and it had been a lot of fun; having multiple pairs of hands to pitch in had made everything go a lot faster and less like work. And she had always gotten sent home with a share of the results.

"I'll teach you how to make all of Loki's favourites," said Frigga, her eyes twinkling. "You know what they say, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

"Mom!" Loki protested. "Sif doesn't have to cook for me for me to -- " He caught himself, and changed what he was going to say. "-- like her." And then felt like a specimen under a microscope as two pairs of interested eyes fixed on him. He flushed.

"Of course not," Frigga soothed. "But being able to make delicious food is a skill everyone should have; why do you think I brought you boys up to know your way around a kitchen?"

"Because we were always hanging around hoping for handouts anyway?" asked Loki mischievously.

"That's true; you were," their mother said fondly. "And if you were going to be underfoot, I thought you might as well learn to be useful."

Sif grinned; imagining a small Loki and Thor standing on stools measuring out ingredients and mixing cookie dough.

"All right, I'll leave you two to your movie. Enjoy yourselves." Frigga thought of adding "but not too much", but decided not to tease them any further. She certainly didn't want to discourage wherever their relationship was headed; if she was right about what she thought Loki had been about to say, she couldn't have been more pleased. Since Sif had come into their lives, Loki had simply been radiating happiness, and smiling a lot more than he had in recent years. Confident that she could trust her son to behave appropriately when alone with Sif, she went to rejoin her husband in the living room.

"So, something light, you said." Loki leaned back against the counter. "What do you want to watch? A comedy? Action adventure? Rom com?"

"Hmm," mused Sif, letting him know she was thinking. She was already feeling better, but she wanted something fun, something that didn't require too much thinking or paying attention to the plot. She mentally considered and discarded several possibilities, then hit on one that felt just right. "George of the Jungle." She pointed her fork at him. "I haven't seen that since I was a kid."

"George George George, George of the Jungle," Loki chanted, "Watch out for that tree!" He grinned. "Good choice. I'm pretty sure we kept that DVD. I remember Mom liking it as much as Thor and I did."

Sif smirked, unsurprised. "Did you and Thor used to play at being George, or any kind of Tarzan character?"

"Of course, although Thor was far more over-the-top about it, lots of chest-beating and yelling and all that. But the park near where we used to live in the city had a really cool play structure that included ropes for climbing or swinging on, so yeah, we were living our best monkey lives there for a while. And of course we had our drums, if it was round and made a good thumping noise we turned it into a drum. Coffee cans, oatmeal canisters, the tupperware bowls from the kitchen, you name it. We used to drive Dad crazy; he'd come home from work wanting peace and quiet and we'd be drumming away like there was no tomorrow. Or we'd trade off, one of us drumming and one of us dancing; I thought we were quite good actually," said Loki loftily. "Mother said we were."

"I'm sure you were," said Sif, grinning as she finished off her slice of cobbler and rose to put the plate in the sink. She made a mental note to ask Frigga if there was any video footage of one of the boys leaping about while his brother played a drum -- and she was sure there must be -- because she would pay good money to see that. "Sounds like you had some pretty good times growing up."

"Yeah, we did. Ready to go watch?" He cocked his head at her.

"Lead on." She took a last swig of pop before putting the cap back on and taking the bottle with her as she followed him out of the kitchen and into the cosy pine-paneled den. She glanced over at the table where there usually was a jigsaw puzzle in progress and managed to put in two pieces by the time that Loki had found the DVD and popped it into the player. She joined him on the worn couch in front of the TV, wasting no time in snuggling up against his side. Loki promptly wrapped an arm around her and pressed play.

It was good, just what she needed, and she got caught up in the movie and the feel of Loki beside her, forgetting what had happened earlier. When the credits were rolling, Loki picked the DVD case up and scanned the information on it.

"What are you looking for?" she asked, lazily, her boots pulled off and her feet drawn up on the sofa.

"The year this was made, compared to my mom's age. Thor wasn't even born yet, and my mom..." he thought. "I don't think she and Dad were even married yet. Engaged, maybe? Dating, at least."

"Are you realising your mother probably saw this when it first came out and might have enjoyed it for the -- ah -- charms of its leading man years before she had any little boys to watch it with?" teased Sif, amused.

"I am," replied Loki, looking mildly scandalised in the way of small children realising their teachers had lives outside of the classroom. He picked up his phone and called his mother, not wishing to yell in Sif's ear or leave their shared couch just yet.

"Hello, sweetheart, did you finish your movie?"

"We did, and I was just wondering, is the reason you never minded watching George of the Jungle with me and Thor because you had a crush on Brendan Fraser?"

Frigga's startled laugh was loud enough that Sif could hear her.

"Not Brendan, no, but George? Yes. That movie was very much designed for the female gaze. That scene with the horse -- "

"Yes, yes," said Loki testily, "Sif was grinning like an idiot during that part as well. But weren't you dating Father at the time the movie was released? Or engaged? Did you two go see it together?"

"We did. I think it was probably more my choice than his, but in that case I would have let him choose the next movie that we went out to see."

"How does that work?" exclaimed Loki, the words out of his mouth before he realised he was going to say them. "Not the taking turns choosing a movie, but being attracted to someone else when you're dating, or engaged, or married?"

"You're allowed to look, if you're in a relationship that's based on trust. There are so many attractive people in the world, as long as it stops at looking, and you make sure your partner knows that they're the only one you want in your bed at night, then it's fine."

"Mm." Loki sounded uncertain. He heard his father say something in the background.

"Your father says that you, however, should not take anyone to your bed because you're too young and he's not ready to be a grandfather."

Loki snorted. "Duly noted, but condoms exist, you know." And then his eyes widened and he clamped his mouth shut, mortified that he had just said that to his mother, while sitting next to Sif. He liked the place their relationship was in, and didn't want her to feel that he wanted more yet, or that he was expecting it. He glanced sideways at her, and was relieved to see that she looked like she was trying to not laugh.

"I do, and I'm glad you do too; shall I relay that remark to your father?"

"No, that's not necessary," said Loki hastily. "Just reassure him that I have every intention of enjoying a child-free college experience. And now I am going to hang up before I embarrass myself further in front of my date. Talk to you later." He hung up the phone.

"Just so you know," said Sif, close enough to have heard Frigga's words, "There is no one that I'd rather be with than you right now."

"Same," said Loki, and his gaze dropped to her lips as his head tilted in invitation.

Sif closed the distance between them, tangling one hand in his hair and kissing him without hesitation, feeling his one hand settle at the small of her back, the other cradling the back of her neck. Loki was an amazing kisser; apparently playing the flute taught you how to use your mouth and lips really well. Time melted away as Loki drove every thought from her head, until, as they shifted to find a more comfortable position, his grip shifted to her lower arm in a bid to urge her onto his lap, and Sif flinched back, unable to completely stifle a cry of pain.

Loki immediately let her go. "What is it? Did I hurt you?"

"Not you. Sorry. I just got some bruises today at the gym, and you pressed down on one." Sif rubbed her right arm lightly.

"Are you all right? Can I see? So I know where they are?"

Sif hesitated, then unbuttoned the cuff of her flannel shirt and rolled it up. They'd darkened in the last couple of hours, and stood out unmistakably against her tanned skin, five evenly spaced circles.

Loki very gently took her hand in his and turned her forearm so he could see them all. Fingerprints, he thought. She'd been at the gym, not her martial arts studio. There was no reason someone should have grabbed her hard enough to leave bruises on her arm. Something fierce and protective rose up inside him. "What happened?"

Sif rolled her sleeve back down, not wanting to go over it again but remembering Frigga's words about a good relationship being built on trust. "Remember that guy that was hassling Jane the other day at college?"

"Haldor. Yes."

"He was waiting for me when I left the gym this evening. He started a fight, I ended it."

"I don't suppose I can look forward to seeing him with a spectacular black eye Monday, can I?" Loki asked hopefully. Not that Haldor was in any of his classes, but he could keep a look out for him around campus, or go and watch Thor practice.

Sif smiled. "No, but I did knee him in the groin and when he started to fold, landed a good uppercut to his jaw. Although...I'm not sure if he'll be back, or for how long."

Loki was pleased by her recital but his brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

She met his eyes. "I called the cops, charged him with assault. Not sure if that might lead to a suspension or something."

Startled, Loki opened his mouth to say something -- but then closed it again, thinking first as he ran his eyes over Sif. She didn't seem to be seriously hurt anywhere, but that she'd involved the cops and pressed charges meant that something more serious than a casual fight had happened.

"I'm all right, truly," she assured him, guessing what he was thinking. "A couple more bruises and that's it. He definitely took more damage."

"Yet you called the cops? Not that I have a problem with that, but...did something else happen? Did he threaten you?"

Damn Loki for being so perceptive, she thought with annoyance. "I called the cops because he heavily implied that he wanted to rape me." Sif said bluntly, sick to death of having to talk about it. "And men like him need to learn that women aren't going to take shit like that lying down." She grimaced. "Bad choice of words."

"He didn't -- are you -- " Loki's shock was giving way to fury. "If he touched you -- "

"Nothing beyond a few gropes that made his intentions clear, if his words weren't enough. I'm fine," she said, and realised she meant it. "I was kind of shaken up earlier, but I'm feeling a lot better now. Being here with you helped a lot."

"I'm glad," He reached out to stroke her hair. "Is there anything else I can do? And did the cops say what was going to happen to Haldor?"

"Unless he's already got a record of previous offenses, he'll probably get off with a fine and probation. Maybe have to take an anger management class or something like that. The cops will get in touch with me to keep me updated or if I need to testify in court, which they think unlikely." Her phone rang, and she picked it up and answered it after a glance at the caller ID.

"Hi, Mom, did you get my note? Are you home now?" She listened and nodded. "Okay, I'll be home shortly. See you soon." She hung up.

"That was my mom, I left her a note saying to call me when she got home from the neighbour's, because I didn't really want to hang out alone after what happened. So thank you for having me over. But do you think you could walk me home?"

"Yes, of course!" Loki scrambled to his feet, taking the DVD out of the player and shutting everything else off while Sif finished off her pop. She collected her jacket from the kitchen while Loki told his parents he was going to walk Sif home, and they went outside, Loki snagging his own hoodie from the front closet as they did so. It was dark out by now, but a full moon added its light to the scene and the night air was pleasant enough that they took the long way around, walking hand in hand, instead of cutting through a couple of people's yards as they tended to do during the day. When they got to Sif's house, he turned to her on her doorstep.

"May I kiss you good night?"

"You may."

He took her face between his hands and kissed her at first gently, and then a little more thoroughly when she grabbed hold of the front of his sweatshirt and kept him from pulling away too soon.

They were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, Sif reluctantly pulling away to glare at her mother.

"I thought I'd save you having to get your key out," Gna said cheerfully. "Hello, Loki, thank you for walking Sif home."

"It was my pleasure," Loki said, keeping his aplomb and a grip on one of Sif's hands, not so easily dismissed. "Shall I tell my parents you said hello?"

"Please do." Then, accepting that they wanted a few more moments to say goodbye, she smiled indulgently. "Don't stay out there too long, Sif, it's late."

"I'll be right in," Sif promised. Her mother nodded and retreated inside the house.

Loki swung her hand gently. "Got any plans for tomorrow?"

"I've got some homework I need to work on, but that can wait till after supper. If you've got the afternoon free, do you want to go to the cider mill? It's opening weekend, and it'll be crazy crowded, but sometimes that's part of the experience, y'know?"

"I'd love to," Loki said happily. "Should I mention it to Thor?"

"Yeah, if we want to bring a couple of gallons of cider home, we'll want his pick-up. And they've also got donuts, and caramel apples, and fudge, and some hiking trails through the woods we can go on."

"it sounds perfect. And if I bring some fudge home for my dad, I will win so many points."

"Tell your parents if they want to go, it'll be less busy during the week when kids are in school."

"All right, I will, and I'm looking forward to it. Give me a call tomorrow when you're ready to go. Or for any other reason, at any time," he said seriously. "If you want to talk, or need help, you can always call me. You know that, right?"

A lump rose in Sif's throat, and she stepped forward and hugged him tightly. "Yeah. Yeah, I know that. And the same goes for you, too. You can call anytime."

She stepped back, and Loki reluctantly let her go. "I know." He glanced towards the living room window, where he thought her mother probably was, but the drapes had been drawn for the night. "You'd better go in now, before your mom comes back to check on us." He pressed one last kiss to her forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow. Sweet dreams, Sif."

"Sweet dreams, Loki." She went inside, and waved as he glanced back as he went down the front walk to the street. She locked up and turned to see her mother watching her from the couch in the living room, some show playing on the TV. Sif yawned suddenly, and her mother laughed.

"Tired?"

"Yeah, I think I'm going to go take a bath and make an early night of it. Did you have a good time next door?"

"I did; did you have a good time at Loki's?" The look on Gna's face made it clear that she already knew the answer to this.

"I did." Sif was glad that her mother hadn't asked about her whole day, or her time at the gym.

"I'm glad; enjoy your bath, darling."

Sif nodded and collected some clean clothes from her bedroom and went into the bathroom, locking the door. She stripped off down to her sports bra, and glared at the bruises purpling her skin, more than Loki had seen. It was different than getting bruised from hard sparring, or from a martial arts competition. Those were expected, and gained in combat with other honourable warriors. These were reminders that someone had put their hands on her that she hadn't given permission to, and she took out her tube of arnica cream to apply after the bath, wanting them gone as soon as possible. The twin sets of finger and thumb prints on her forearms would be in full view tomorrow at the cider mill unless she wore a long-sleeved shirt, and she didn't want to feel that she should have to to hide them unless the weather warranted it. She hadn't done anything wrong, but she didn't want to deal with any well-meaning questions about how she'd gotten them or if she needed any help. Her lips thinned with anger. Well, let them ask, she'd tell them exactly who'd done it. She'd love it if Haldor tried to get a date or a job and couldn't because she'd ruined his reputation. She started the bath water running as she finished undressing, but her earlier good mood had been replaced by irritation, and she got out the box of bath fizzers that her mom had given her for her birthday, feeling that she deserved something a little special today and choosing a sweet pea one from the remaining balls. She dropped it into the water and got in after it, enjoying the feel of it fizzing against her skin as she adjusted the water temperature to pleasantly hot and shut the faucet off, relaxing as she slid down until the back of her head rested against the edge of the tub, breathing in the sweet fragrance. Instead of dwelling on having to tell more people (her mother, at least, and Thor if he saw the bruises) about the attack, she thought about what she was looking forward to about tomorrow.

Introducing Thor and Loki to the cider mill on what was supposed to be another day of perfect weather for it. They could have gone on the hiking trails during the summer, but past experience had taught her that the woods were thick with mosquitos in the usual humid summer heat, and without the lure of the stream as someplace closer than the beach to cool down, it hadn't felt worth it, not when she now had friends even closer with a brand new swimming pool in their backyard. She smiled as she remembered the day one photo after another had begun arriving on her phone in rapid succession. One of the sign in front of the local pool store. Then one of Loki with the broadest smile she'd ever seen standing in front of a model pool, half filled with water and various floatie toys, along with the message Guess what? A picture of Thor with an equally big grin on his face holding a large inflatable alligator and a pool skimmer had followed.

She had texted back both of them. What's going on?, excitement filling her as she guessed the answer but wanting confirmation.

WE'RE GETTING A POOL!!!, Loki had sent back, along with a picture of their parents standing at a counter with a store employee and several bottles of pool chemicals.

A photo had arrived from Thor showing a weighted ring diving game. ? He had asked.

Waste of money, Sif had texted back. You can use plastic clothespins.

The next photo, from Loki, had shown a basketball type hoop that could be attached to the side of the pool, along with another question mark. Maybe? She had sent back. How much is it?

There had been a pause, then a price had appeared followed by Maybe if we find it on sale somewhere. Sif remembered texting her agreement, thinking it was something that might have been worth the investment if the boys had been ten years younger. She remembered going over to their house to watch the pool being installed, the three of them sitting on top of the picnic table on their patio as they'd watched the walls of the pool rise with interest, remembered the anticipation building as the garden hose had been fed over the side of the pool and the water had been turned on full blast. She remembered their excitement dimming as they'd watched how very very slowly the water level was rising, and having to accept the fact that it was going to be a couple of days before the pool was ready for swimming, Odin informing them that once it was full they'd have to add the chemicals to sanitise the water and then wait another 24 hours after that before they would be allowed to go in.

They'd sought solace and distraction at the lake the next day, but they'd all been more than ready when the all clear had been given on the morning of the fourth day. Sif remembered donning her bikini and a cover-up and stuffing anything else she might need in her beach bag and heading over right after breakfast, and not coming home until dinnertime, waterlogged and sunbaked and happy, her skin smelling pleasantly of chlorine. She remembered days of fun and friendship, and evenings floating lazily around the pool on a raft, full from a cook-out, the smell of the barbeque grill still lingering on the air and the sound of her mother talking with Frigga and Odin on the patio, Loki on his raft bumped up next to hers, their hands joined together and hidden between them as the sun slowly set and the mosquitos came out in full force and drove them back under the water until her mother had called for her to come out and go home with her.

She felt herself calm, and center, and turned onto her side to let the heat of the water warm up her front. It had been a good summer, and she thought about what they had to look forward to in the fall. The cider mill, and scuffling through fallen leaves as they hiked through the woods. Going to Thor's home football games to cheer him on, snug in hoodies and sweaters and flannel-lined jeans, with a thermos full of mulled cider or pumpkin spice coffee and a plaid blanket to share between her and Loki. Halloween. The college had an annual masquerade ball to celebrate which had been quite good last year; Fandral had liberated some realistic-looking prop swords from the theater department and some costuming bits and pieces and they had dragged Hogun into it and they'd all gone as the Three Musketeers. She wondered if Loki would want to do themed costumes and tried to picture what he'd look good as. She thought of his flute -- the Pied Piper, maybe? But then who was she supposed to be, a giant rat?

She frowned and sat up to grab the soap bar, washing briskly and getting out of the tub to dry off as the water drained. She'd have to call Loki, suggest he start thinking about it so they had time to get a decent costume together. She got into her pajamas and warm fuzzy socks and sat down on her bed and texted him. Do u want to do matching Halloween costumes this year?

For what? he asked cautiously, his reply soon arriving. Aren't we a bit too old to go trick-or-treating?

Masquerade ball at college. Not quite as fancy as it sounds but costume is required. And last year Jane and Darcy's dorm was giving out candy and inviting people they liked in for stuff like apple pie and pizza and board games. So u wanna dress comfy, nothing too restricting.

Hmm. Pirates?

We could, but Fandral and I did that year before last.

Pass, then. Rock stars?

Too much like regular clothing unless we do disco or glam. Not feeling it.

There was a pause. Hang on, let me go find something.

A couple of minutes later a picture arrived on her phone. It was the front of one of those clothing pattern packets they sold at the fabric store, she realised. The drawing on the envelope showed two young people, the guy wearing what she thought was called a doublet and hose and the girl in a pretty but comfortable-looking dress, the skirt wide enough to allow for free movement. Renaissance Lovers, the envelope proclaimed. Loki would look fantastic in something like this, she thought, his long legs shown off to advantage in the hose, the doublet emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders and the narrowness of his hips.

I'm listening, she typed.

U wanna do something like this?

Not usually a dress person, but if we can find something like this? Yeah. You'd look hot.

We don't have to look for it. Another picture arrived, with Loki wearing what was obviously a costume based on the pattern, the doublet forest green with accents of gold and his legs encased in close-fitting ivory tights that left little to the imagination. Sif enlarged the photo, her eyes wide. Despite seeing Loki in nothing but swim trunks for a good many days of this past summer, the tights were way more revealing. I played Romeo in my 11th grade school play, he typed. Still have the outfit.

I am looking respectfully, she sent back. V. good look on u. Is that top velvet?

Yep. My mom made it.

Holy shit. It had embroidery on it, too, Sif saw. I'll never find anything that looks as good.

Told u you don't have to. My mom can make the dress for u.

Loki, u can't ask her -- look I'm gonna call u. She closed out the text and pressed his number. When he answered, she went on. "Loki, you can't ask your mom to make me a Halloween costume like I'm five years old! A dress like that would take time, and effort, and money!"

"She'd be happy to do it," he insisted. "She always made costumes for me and Thor if we couldn't find what we wanted."

"But you're her children, not me! I'm a grown woman, I can buy my own dress to wear."

"Not something nice," Loki said stubbornly. "It'll be cheap-looking polyester crap."

Sif couldn't argue with that, but of course no one wanted to spend a lot of money on a costume that would only be worn for one day. But maybe Fandral could borrow something from the theater department again that could work.

"She made the dress for my co-star in the play, and she wasn't anything like the family friend that you are," Loki argued.

Sif felt warmed by being thought of as a friend to the whole family, and not just Loki's girlfriend. And truly she felt that way, with the way she had been welcomed into their lives and made to feel at home. She wavered.

"Is your mom still up that you could ask her? And make it clear that it's your idea, not mine, and I'm not expecting anything!"

"Yes, of course, I'll be right back!"

Loki sounded like an eager puppy that had just been promised a treat, and since he didn't hang up, she could hear his and Frigga's voices in the background a few moments later. And then Frigga came on the line, her voice warm and enthusiastic.

"I would love to make you a dress for Halloween, Sif, it's no trouble at all, really. I'm already familiar with the pattern and the only finicky part is cutting all the pieces to size. The sewing's not difficult at all and the embellishments are the fun part, I like having something to do with my hands when I'm watching TV in the evenings."

Sif could just picture Frigga beaming at her, and Loki looking just as happy to have his confidence in his mother being proved justified. How could she say no? "If you're sure -- " she began.

"I am."

"Then I accept, and thank you, but I want to pay for it. All the materials, and whatever you think is a fair price for your labour."

"That's fine," said Frigga after a moment of silence. "There's always coupons and sales, we'll find a nice piece of fabric at a good price. Light wool, I think, would be most versatile for this time of year, although a heavier brushed cotton might look nice as well, something that could work with both cooler and warmer weather depending on what you wear underneath. An autumn colour, perhaps? Russet? Or a lighter shade of green to coordinate with Loki's doublet? Well, we'll see what they have when we get to the fabric store. Loki told me you're going to the cider mill tomorrow; what about Sunday? I could come over after lunch and take your measurements, and then we can go shopping?"

"I...um, yeah, all right," Sif said, somewhat dazed at the speed with which this was moving along. She supposed Loki had been right in thinking his mother would enjoy making the dress, and she remembered the first time they'd met, and Frigga mentioning they would have liked to have had a daughter, too.

"Excellent. It's not going to take a whole month to make, of course, but better to get started early just in case anything comes up later."

"Like what?" Sif heard herself asking.

"Machine could need servicing?" Frigga suggested after a moment of thinking. "Which reminds me, I don't know where I'd get it done around here. But I expect they'd know at the fabric store, if they don't have someone there themselves that works on them; I'll have to ask."

"Oh. Okay."

"Or someone could get sick," Frigga continued on blithely. "We're generally a healthy lot around here, but cold and flu season is coming up, and I wouldn't want to be working on your dress when I'm contagious with something."

"No," said Sif. "Of course not." This was what it must feel like to be caught up in an undertow, she thought, and had the sudden image of Loki standing there grinning, listening to them. "Well then, I'll see you Sunday. Call me whenever you want to go."

"I will, darling, and I'll look forward to it. Loki's gesturing for me to hand back his phone, so I'll say good night to you now."

"Good night, sleep tight," Sif said automatically, and then felt a bit silly for adding that until Frigga added "Don't let the bedbugs bite" without missing a beat. Sif grinned and then Loki took his phone back.

"Hah!" He exclaimed triumphantly. "What did I tell you? We are going to look great together. And I asked Thor about the cider mill, and he said he'd be happy to drive us, and he's already asked Jane to come along as well, if that's okay."

"Yeah, sure. Are you going to come by and pick me up?"

Yeah; early afternoon sometime all right with you? I don't think any of us want to get up early on a Saturday morning."

"Sounds good. Call me before you come over, so I can get ready." She heard the sound of his footsteps, presumably returning to his bedroom.

"Will do. I suppose we should say good night now."

"Probably." She didn't hang up and neither did he. She gave a little huff of laughter. "What's that quote about parting is such sweet sorrow?"

"Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night till it be morrow." Loki's voice went soft, caressing, and Sif swallowed, wishing he were in this room right now with her.

"Yeah, that." She made another self-deprecating noise. "I don't know why it's so hard to hang up when I'll be seeing you tomorrow. It's just...I'm so glad you moved to town. I can't imagine my life without you in it anymore."

"I feel the same way," Loki said softly.

Sif took a deep breath, words wanting to bubble up in her throat, but they were the sort of words that were best said face-to-face for the very first time. Perhaps besides the stream in the woods tomorrow; she could ask Jane to take Thor off in a different direction so she and Loki could have some privacy. Jane would understand.

"Sif?"

"Yeah?"

"The sooner we hang up and go to bed, the sooner tomorrow will come."

Sif snorted. "Did your mother used to tell you that on Christmas Eve?"

"I seem to remember it mostly being aimed at Thor, but yes. So," he said briskly. "Since the hour waxes late and we must practice at being sensible adults, good night, Sif, and sweet dreams. I will see you tomorrow."

"Good night, Loki," said Sif, still smiling. "And sweet dreams. I'm looking forward to it. Bye." She finally hung up, putting her phone on charge before going to seek a bedtime snack and to spend a little time with her mother before going to bed. To get it over with, and not wanting anything to spoil tomorrow, she told her mother briefly of what had happened, but it was already feeling distant, the love and support of her friends surrounding her like a protective armour. She reassured her mother that she was fine, and meant it, and they watched the opening segment of the late night talk show together before Sif announced that she was turning in, rising and stretching with a yawn. Her mother stood up as well, and gave her a hug. It was perhaps a little tighter than usual, but Sif didn't mind, nor did she mind it when her mother followed her into her room and tucked her into bed with a kiss and a "Good night; I love you."

"Love you too," Sif replied, enjoying the feel of the blanket tucked snugly behind her back in the way she could never manage to do by herself. The ritual was not quite the every night thing that it had once been, but her mother always seemed to know when she needed it. "G'night."

Her mother turned out the light as she left, closing the door most of the way behind her but leaving it just ajar enough that Sif could hear the faint murmur of the television set, the sound turned down lower so as not to disturb her, the sliver of low light coming in from the hall if she looked that way comforting as well. She was asleep in minutes, and if she dreamed, she did not remember it when she woke the next morning, feeling rested but enjoying the comfort of her bed too much to rise immediately, thinking of the day ahead, thinking of Loki. Anticipation filled her, and she threw back the sheets and bounced to her feet, opening her window and letting in the fresh morning air. It felt like it was going to be a perfect day to spend outside, and she began picking out the clothes she wanted to wear and throwing them on her bed.

Dreams were all well and good, but real life was even better, and she had every intention of enjoying hers to its fullest.

*****

A/N: Had this basically done back in July, but I didn't feel the tone of the beginning was quite right and it bothered me enough not to post it. Finally figured out what needed adjusting and hope it's no less enjoyable for the wait.

#sifkiweek #sifki #marvel fic #ficwoodelf #sif #loki #mcu #sifkiweek23 #every way love's a little stronger #no longer quite as seasonal as it would have been if it had been on time but at least it's done #yes i snagged the title from good omens #it seemed to fit really well and i liked it better than the working title i'd been using up till then

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madcatacres · 7 months

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I've seen a number of posts about ofmd's Ed Teach changing his careful avoidance being a personal killer after his dad (and no, shooting someone who's already shish kebabed does not count *by his rules* which are what we're talking about here - "technically the fire killed those people") and then mowing through a bunch of British navy guys when he thinks Stede may be dead after that massive attack on the Republic of Pirates. The immediate trigger is concern for Stede but also, Ed's first kills are a couple of armed uniformed bullies harassing who they think is a harmless fisherman, an old man, an easy target, over the mere fact that he might be fishing.

Ed killing the two naval guys in the rowboat pulling alongside his is a proportionate response there even without a panic or fugue state triggered by grief/concern for Stede. If soldiers or pigs decide they're going to fuck with you while and because you're a solitary, isolated helpless target and you can respond with lethal force, that is both proportionate and morally justified (fuck the law) as self-defense. You are in fear for your life in that situation if you have half a brain.

The pirates on and around RoP are also, I have to say, at war. This is a show that balances humor with issues about trauma and slapstick violence with occasional actual real world consequences, yeah, but remember historically this is an era when you could be a sort of franchised pirate called a privateer, the justification for the British Navy attacking Republic of Pirates is definitely that these are people attacking ships not under the control of a crown, not that they are just out there doing pirate shit, killing and maiming and robbing and worse (the worse gets mostly kept out of ofmd's slightly more light hearted and allegorical piracy-is-queerness universe, I feel like I need to specifically and briefly address that).

Besides that, while we're only shown adult pirates lying around the republic dead, we don't see any live children either. Whereas we've been very clearly (while the crew is shopping for stuff for Calypso's birthday) shown children running around the Republic earlier (two of them being the waifs played by Taika's kids). The level of atrocity beyond which the British were unwilling to go to is not tidily defined. Incidentally kids historically got pressed into service (one of the OFMD BTS photos I have seen shows a flyer posted with others in RoP referring to impressment so I think it's safe to consider it something alluded to by the actual show's plot) - quick rip from wikipedia article on impressment, "In 1703, an act [of the Parliament in England] passed limiting the impressment of boys under 18 years of age to those who were not apprenticed."

So yeah Ed absolutely gets blood on his hands personally for the first time in roughly thirty-five years, and that is a huge step for him but it's not only things falling into place with his integrating his identity, and killing for the crew and for love in the metaphoric landscape of piracy being queer love and family, it's also probably (in context of the show) more moral/responsible than the killing by proxy he's been doing as a pirate (although this is a show about pirates. Sort of.) So. Jackie's poisoning the occupying force and the guerrilla warfare in the stolen uniforms in context of the plot pass as reasonable measures (if desperate). I haven't seen those characterized anywhere as personal murdery actions. (Slightly off topic, I did see a post complain that Jackie passing out the poisoned booze wasn't FAST enough or, overlooking the incident entirely, that there wasn't an explicit enough example of racism/colonialist violence being punished in S2. Beg to differ. Jackie being less hotheaded than S1, pre-unbearding Jim is also entirely in character.) The staff of Spanish Jackie's, citizens (?) of the Republic of Pirates, and crew of the Revenge (and QAR) have been invaded and are at war. Ed's also at war, but no longer at war with himself.

I'm just gonna post this phrased awkwardly because every time the thought comes to mind and I want to compose something worded well I don't get around to it.

I'm leaving out any mention of a character death which I do not consider controversial and which had no immediate influence on Ed's (combat) actions. Also have some S3 speculative thoughts I'm keeping out of this rambly mess of a post.

#ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd #edward teach #blackbeard #our flag means death #killing and needing to kill #british empire #british navy #republic of pirates #spanish jackie #stede bonnet #war

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littleladymab · 3 months

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Still Waiting Duology (a wip intro for @moon-and-seraph's WORDS INTO POTIONS March event)

Genre: Fantasy (low fantasy, magic and second world, but only humans) Summary: After graduating from the country's most prestigious magical academy with no real interest in signing up for a tour of "border patrol", Cateryn drags her best friend and duel partner Jigar to tour the country with her -- hoping that maybe her restlessness will finally settle. She has no home to return to, and no idea of what a future is supposed to look like. When one year threatens to become two, they finally stumble upon three people whose struggles resonate with Cateryn's: Raif, who lost their father, their wife, and their future to one torrential storm and decided to leave home to save their mother the trouble of an heir who couldn't uphold the family name; Kira, a seer whose powers resulted in xir becoming a political prisoner when xir home was invaded; and Arris, Kira's husband who was helpless to save his employer and suffered at the hands of the occupying force before he could get himself and his spouse to freedom.

For the first time in a long time, Cateryn finds herself wanting to stay in one place and to open up to the people around her, even though Jigar thinks they should keep moving on. Because the two of them are destined for great things, he likes to say, but she knows what is best, and he's content to stay with her. Except for the past has a way of catching up with everyone, and they all find themselves dragged into political responsibilities as the neighboring country is getting agitated with an increasing number of border disputes, and rumors of something more than the usual bandits roaming the south.

And when Cateryn's past involvements with her father's spirit magic come back to haunt her, she has to decide if she wants to accept that part of her, or reject it and everything that comes with it before its too late. Etc: writing tag || pin board

My goal this month is to finish the outline for at least book 1 if not both books, and to GIVE IT A PROPER TITLE. And, between this and SD, hopefully write 4 chapters/about 10k.

Main Cast

Cateryn Caddis-Dowell (she/her); between 24/28; skilled at offensive/battle magic || playlist

Raif Van to Yuen-ha (they/he); between 28/32; dishonored heir to the Yuen-ha family; mediocre alchemist || playlist

Jigar Soru (he/him); between 26/30; skilled at defensive magic; "self-taught" spirit mage || playlist

Kira Dittmar (xe/xir); between 23/27; diviner/seer who would like to be retired || playlist

Arris Dittmar (he/him); between 29/33; sword for hire, just happy to be here! (he doesn't have a playlist yet I'm sorry)

Snippet

Raif didn’t even bother trying not to look miserable. If their mother wanted to make a spectacle out of their humiliation, then she’d have to do it with a sulking heir.

“Which part of this is the worst?” Cateryn asks, startling them out of their reverie.

“Pardon?” they ask in return, straightening their posture just a bit now that they’re the center of someone’s attention.

She gestures to the ballroom. “It’s the taffeta, personally. I am sweating like it isn’t the dead of winter in the north, and everyone can hear me from a mile away.” She says it low, conspiratorially, and they can’t help but laugh. “Ah, there it is.”

“The key to the taffeta’s undoing?” they whisper back, reaching out to ruffle her skirt. It whish whish whishes loudly beneath their touch.

“No, your smile.”

They snort into their wine glass. “Please, Cateryn, you don’t need to skulk about with me because you feel sorry for me.” It’s hard to keep the bitterness from their voice as they mirror her gesture towards the room. “My mother isn’t trying to humiliate you.”

They don’t mention how they noticed the way Aiden had been doting on her all evening despite this being a party for him.

“Is it wrong of me to want to keep you company?” she asks innocently. “You know, better yet, want to get out of here?”

Raif pauses with the wine glass against their lips. Leave the party early? Without saying hello, yes, I’m well thank you, yes I miss Linna and my father terribly but I’m sure Aiden will do a splendid job where I’ve failed as a child, but at least I don’t have to be my mother’s son anymore — Aiden can do that, to every one of Uyen’s friends?

The thought sends a frisson of rebellious delight through them, and they pass their half-finished glass to a nearby server. “More than anything,” they say, and Cateryn answers with a grin.

She takes their hand — in front of their mother, the family gods, and everyone — and tugs them towards the exit on the far side of the ballroom.

Uyen doesn’t call after them, but Raif can feel her disdain follow them into the hall.

#ms: wip intro #m+s: wip #still waiting #a lil miss original #lil miss writings #p much all the more recent stuff for this has been on patreon #so nothing really to see in the tag #I've committed too much to Raif's mom being named Uyen despite how i hate that it's Uyen Yuen

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real-jane · 2 years

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poet laureate

part 2 - [prof bucky barnes x fem!reader]

summary: bucky embraces the chaos of a new job, and his girl finishes the project.

warnings: rampant fluff.

a/n: this is posted. i have been trying to finish it for literally ages and finally just forced myself to stop fiddling with it. I hope you enjoy!

series masterlist

Bucky awoke to two furry paws palpating his chest, Alpine’s sharp talons prickling like they did when she was being affectionate. There was something else waiting for him on his phone screen, which he didn’t see until he had squeezed every last drop of coffee out of the grounds in his french press, plopped a heaping spoonful of wet food into Alpine’s dish, and knocked his shin into the open dishwasher door. Bruised and under-caffeinated, Bucky sat at the kitchen table and blinked wearily at his phone. His eyes widened.

PL: Are you dead?

“Shit-shit–Alpine, this is your fault!”

Bucky was late to meet her at his office. They had finally set down solid plans: Saturday at nine o’clock sharp. In his cat’s defense, she had tried to rouse him from a particularly lurid dream, so that he could meet ‘PL’ to start cleaning out the tiny storage room in the guise of an office he had occupied for four years. But he had slept poorly since the night he saw her at Howler’s, and he was an enemy of early mornings.

He hit ‘dial’ before he could think twice and touched the speaker phone, so he could throw on a shirt at the same time.

“You had about two minutes before I called Search and Rescue,” she said, amusement coloring her tone.

Bucky huffed, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. “I overslept–”

“Let’s try again tomorrow?”

“I’ll be fifteen minutes, doll–”

“Bucky, it’s already eleven-fifteen. I gotta go.”

“Wha–you said you were free.”

“I was free. At nine,” she said gently. “I can give you a few hours tomorrow morning.”

Bucky sighed. He was in the wrong–he knew that. Over two hours late, of course she had something else to do! Oh–

“Your thesis.” He scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Among other things. Are you okay?”

Bucky ignored the question, to which he did not have a sufficient answer. “Do–uh–you need me to look it over?”

“...I’m meeting up with Wilson for final edits.”

He sat down slowly on the bed, with his buttons askew and one side of his hair attempting to stand straight up. “Oh. Good. He’ll set you up for success, no doubt. Glad you took my advice.”

“I usually do,” she chuckled.

“Don’t let him trap you in a lecture about cult fantasy authors from the 1960s, or his career playing college football. Trust me.”

“...you’re serious?”

“Deadly. Sam ‘the Falcon’ Wilson will hold you hostage talking about the differences between wizards and sorcerers.”

“Noted. Hey, have you called Mike, yet?”

“No. I don’t–ah. No.”

“I won’t push. When you get here, I didn’t touch any of your files. I wasn’t sure if that was a breach of confidentiality.”

Bucky groaned. “...you are not standing inside my office right now.”

“The cleaner let me in. Bill likes me. I tutored his granddaughter last semester. I hope you don’t mind wine boxes, that was what Mike had to offer. They’re sturdy at least–”

“Doll… I’m so sorry.”

Her laugh bloomed in his left breast, cushioning his heart from slamming against his ribs in self-flagellation. “Hey. I’ll put it on your tab.”

“I’ll be there at nine tomorrow, I swear.”

“Let’s make it eleven, you bring the cold brew.”

“Eleven it is.”

“Oh–if you’re not busy tonight. I’m having a thing. Well, Mike’s throwing me a thing–I won’t let him call it a party. To celebrate me being done with my Master’s. It’ll be low-key.”

“You know I’m not busy,” he said.

“Then I guess I want you to come. Eight thirty?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Mmkay. I gotta go. I don’t know how one man owns so many copies of Our Town, but they’re safely packed away.”

Bucky carded a hand through his hair. “Thank you.”

“Pssh. I’ll see you tonight.”

“If I’m up to it.”

“Call me cautiously optimistic.”

She hung up without any ceremony, leaving Bucky to stare at his phone on the dresser in defeat. Not only had she waited for him, she had asked someone to let her in–and then took it upon herself to start packing up his books, as if she had any inkling about how he wanted them organized. Who was he kidding–she probably had a better idea than he did. Nevertheless, the shame curled around his ankles like weights.

It had been three days since he asked to kiss her.

Of all the sensations from their fleeting night together, he couldn’t remember what her lips felt like, and it seemed like something he might never know again. She had wanted to kiss him back, but she didn’t trust that it wasn’t the whiskey talking. I still want to kiss you seemed like a contrived message to send via text, and calling her just to say ‘about that–kissing still sounds great, if you could just pencil me in’ was just about the most mortifying idea he could think of. So he kept that admission on the tip of his tongue. In-person delivery was the only acceptable option. People don’t write about kissing, much, he thought. The yearning for it, yes, but not the act itself. Maybe with good reason.

Imagine typing out such a thing with his thumbs on the world’s tiniest keypad: I want to memorize what your lips feel like with mine. No tongues need even be involved. Just touching. And if we could do it three or four hundred times, that might be enough to start.

His phone buzzed.

PL: Stop overthinking.

Oh, sure. It was that simple. Just stop–easy.

Trouble was, his organs all seemed to be functioning on the same train tracks, for better or for worse, and his brain was that pesky third rail. Deadly for sanity, electrified… all because his heartlines couldn’t stop thrumming her name. Her telling him not to overthink was like lightning telling thunder not to crash. I’m not me without you.

He let out a slow breath. Bucky hadn’t been in that much danger–of losing himself, going under–since he was a skinny twerp in too-big fatigues, far from home. And where had that gotten him?

PL: If you don’t text back, I'll call you again.

Bucky snorted. ‘You’re not the boss of me,’ he replied, imagining her wrinkled nose when she read it.

PL: I'm not keeping score, you know. PL: There won't be a test.

‘what if I am?’

PL: How am I doing prof?

‘at annoying me? top marks’

PL: There he is.

‘i am really sorry about this morning,’ he sent.

PL: One of these days you’ll stop punishing yourself for being human. ❤️

The audacity of that little heart…

He didn’t go to the office, no. He laid back on his bed and let that sweet emoji run circles between his ears.

“What do you think?” she asked as Professor Wilson flipped over the last page of her gargantuan thesis. Wilson sat back in his chair and shook his head.

“I still think it could be about ten pages shorter.”

“You sound like Barnes,” she snorted. “You’re lucky. He probably read a hundred bad poems before we got here.”

“Must be stressful finishing without his insight,” Sam said. His sincerity hit her square in the chest.

“Nah, it’s my fault,” she murmured. It was stressful, but less so for her than for the man in question.

“What is?”

“Putting revision off to the last minute.”

“Girl, your advisor did not quit because you were procrastinating. I’m sure his reasons were his own.”

She smiled. “No, I know. Still feel like it’s my fault a little bit. Can’t help it. Anyway. Here are my acknowledgements, and the Table of Contents. I’ll revise it if you think it really needs it, but I think this order makes the most sense.” Y/n produced a small stack of papers from her binder and slid them across the table.

Sam took them, but he gave her a soft smile. “It’s okay to be annoyed with him. Heaven knows I am, between you, me, and the wall.”

“Hmm. You talk to him at all?” She tried not to sound eager–she could talk to him, she had his phone number, but being stood up to help him that morning had rankled enough that she packed all of his books spine-down so he wouldn’t be able to see what was what when he reopened the boxes again. It wasn’t felonious retaliation, but it would make him sigh and roll his eyes… and send her a grumpy text.

“Have you?” Sam muttered.

Her face fell out of the unwitting smile which pulled at her cheeks as she pondered annoying her former mentor. She bit her lip guiltily and shook her head.

“Hmm.”

“Wilson–” Y/n stopped. She hazarded a glance at the professor who had so graciously agreed to help her with one of the most important projects of her life at the last minute, and found him studying her with narrowed eyes. “Thank you. Really. I, uh. Sorta thought I was on my own with this thing.”

“Believe it or not, I thrive under pressure. Unlike my pal Barnes.” Sam sat back with her list of acknowledgments but it was clear he wasn’t reading it as much as he was analyzing her.

“It wasn’t that, for him. I don’t think. Pressure.” She shrugged. “He just doesn’t ever think about what he wants, and when he finally did… teaching wasn’t it.”

“Maybe so.”

“He’ll figure something out. A mind like his can’t be idle for long.”

“Right. Sure we’re talking about the same guy?” Sam asked. They shared a little laugh at the expense of Professor Barnes, though neither of them thought the least bit ill of him.

“You work with somebody long enough and you see a side of them that they don’t even know, themselves,” Y/n said. “He’s got a purple heart, but he doesn’t talk about it. His classes are full within minutes of enrollment opening. And he never makes somebody feel like shit just because he doesn’t like their work, like–do you know how many of these he hates? But they’re my work so he doesn’t talk about them like my feelings don’t matter. He critiques the form, or the word choice. But not me, not the heart of it. You can’t know how much that makes a person grow when somebody believes in their work like that. I’m not–I don’t blame him for quitting, I just wish I could bottle that time we had.”

Her cheeks warmed when Sam remained silent, but he cast his focus onto the papers in his hands, and didn’t press her to go on. Which was for the best because she probably could’ve gone on all day about how special Bucky Barnes was to her. How beautiful he made her feel without ever telling her that she was, because his hands once hovered around her face like a makeshift halo. And Sam was the one who’d monologue? She wondered what Bucky would say if he knew how intensely she ached every minute they were apart.

And what she would do if he showed up at Howler’s again, on second invitation. She needed him close, to surround herself in whatever the expansive knowingness was which bloomed whenever he was in proximity. To smell cedar and sandalwood and know it was because he stood nearby. In arm’s reach. Maybe reaching back, if she was lucky.

Yes, she was sad he had resigned because working with him had changed her life, but… she didn’t want Bucky because he was a good professor. His intuition and wit fit with hers like two halves of a wishbone. Bucky quitting was not their breaking point. It was the wish which would allow him to be more to her than a dream, than her muse.

She had written more intensely about love since meeting him than she could have fathomed possible, and watched that image shift from childish butterflies to a steady flame. She wasn’t sure if she loved him, but she could. If he let her.

Consequences be damned.

She watched Professor Wilson shuffle her papers together in the right order to finalize the body of work she had amassed over two years as a fellow of the program, and she was hit with a stunning realization:

If I have to give this up to have him… I’ll do it. Two years of work? No price at all. It was an investment in someone who gave words new meaning. Words like ‘sorry’ and ‘thank you.’

It made her palms itch to rip her phone out of her pocket and call him right at that moment–I want you, I don’t care what happens!--but she wanted to give him a choice. She wanted to see him make it. Hopefully tonight.

“I don’t even like poetry, but this is incredible,” Sam said finally. “You should be really proud of yourself. I’m sure Barnes is.”

“I know he is,” she murmured. “Hey, I’m having a celebration thing at Howler’s in Bed-Stuy tonight if you and your lady-friend wanna come!”

Sam chuckled. “We could be convinced. Who’s going?”

“I dunno, really. Whoever I ask. It’s my cousin’s idea, he owns the place. I don’t know a ton of people.”

“You say the word and I’ll have my senior lit TA’s all over that bar. Nobody likes to drink like overworked undergrads with Senioritis.”

“Sure,” she smiled. “I’m game.”

“What time?”

“Eight-thirty? Barnes might be there, actually. So.”

“If my man shows up to a bar, that would be a miracle,” Sam scoffed. “That’s a homebody if I ever seen one.”

“He might surprise you!”

“When pig’s fly. Do you wanna do anything else to this before we seal it? Or are we calling your thesis done-zo?”

“Done-zo? Why did I ask you to help, again?”

“For that, you’re over!” Sam slid the finished manuscript into the padded envelope, which he had pre-addressed to the company who binds all theses for the university. “There! You make fun of me, you get no more edits.”

“...did we put my name on it?” Y/n asked in mock seriousness. Sam glared at her.

“Get out of here, you! I will see you at eight thirty sharp with a beautiful woman on my arm! And no sooner.”

“Okay, okay!” She stood up, but Sam stopped her with a hand extended. She wrapped her fingers around his and squeezed. “Thanks,” Y/n breathed.

“Welcome.” Sam waved her out the door, and she practically skipped down the hall… past the office which used to belong to Professor Barnes. Her fingertips brushed the plaque bearing his name as she silently thanked him for helping her get there.

Someday soon, she’d be able to hand him a bound copy of the legacy they made, together.

Mike had been almost relieved to get Bucky’s call, enquiring after the barback position. Bucky had stopped by to pick up his shirt early that afternoon, and so Mike could give him some official-looking papers to sign, and take a photograph of Bucky’s ID with his cell phone. Standing outside the bar on the small patio (smoking an anxious cigarette) was the perfect opportunity to question why he had sought out this job, why he ever thought it was a good idea.

But he had to be okay with life not being quite so cut-and-dry for a while. He was bad at spontaneity. Going with the flow was not his forte. Practice would certainly help… in theory.

And she was inside. He had already spied her through the window on approach and developed an instant arrhythmia at the thought of seeing her again.

Is this what addiction feels like? he wondered, as he took another hit of the lesser drug. He could probably stop smoking in a weekend.

“If it isn’t Mr. Free Agent!” Sam Wilson came out of the bar through the side door.

“What are you doing here?” Bucky asked as his friend joyfully shook his hand.

“Didn’t you hear? My mentee finished her thesis today. Submitted and everything.”

Bucky looked down at the ash he flicked from his cigarette. Sam’s mentee. “Right,” Bucky breathed.

“I gotta ask you a frank question. I think I already know the answer but I’m curious what you’re going to say.”

“Shoot.”

Sam made certain there was no one within hearing distance and then leaned close. “Did you sleep with her?”

“Jesus,” Bucky breathed, closing his eyes. He brought the cigarette to his lips, and he inhaled until his chest burned. At first, he didn’t look at Sam, but the other man held out a fresh beer. Bucky took it but Sam didn’t let go.

“You’re a stupid fucker, I’ll give you that,” Sam growled.

“Careful–”

“You have no idea the shit being thrown around the water cooler about why you quit, professor.” Sam pushed Bucky back further into the shadows as a flock of co-eds filed out of the bar. “You showing up here is only gonna fuel the fire. Do you know how many of your former students are in there sipping Old Fashioneds? Are you prepared for the firestorm of questions about to come your way?”

“...Are you finished?”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah, I’m done.”

Bucky undid the zipper on his coat and held open the placate. “You’re looking at Howler’s new barback. And yes–I am aware how stupid I am, thank you. Which is why I quit.” Bucky ground the remnant of his cigarette beneath his boot. “And thank you so much for your concern.”

“Man, I–shit.” Sam rubbed his face. “I’m sorry.”

Bucky shook his head as if to say forget it. He and Sam shared a look of regret, which cooled Bucky’s mortification. But Sam leaned against the brick wall, sipping his beer. Waiting. Bucky mirrored his posture, and handed Sam back the unopened can, however tempting it was to chug the drink before throwing himself into the lion’s den.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Bucky said, with a heavy shrug. “I didn’t have a drop of alcohol in me. I just–for once, I listened when the idiot–” he tapped his temple– “had a wild impulse.”

“Ah.” Sam drank deeply.

“Yeah. And it was the best night of my fucking life.”

“...so you quit.”

“What was I supposed to do?”

“You love her?”

“What does that even mean?” Bucky asked.

“You’re the poetry guy.” Sam finished his beer and crushed his can against the brick. “For what it’s worth, her thesis is brilliant.”

“I know.”

“Wait until you see the bound version. I sent it off to the printer this afternoon. It’s a beast. Even the acknowledgements are beautiful.”

“Good. God–you should’ve seen her symposium, Sam.” Buck scratched his chin. “Two hundred people… dead silent while she read. Never been so proud in my goddamn life.”

Sam whistled, low and slow. “Sure sounds like love.”

“She packed my office today, before she saw you,” Bucky sighed. “She suggested this job, and she invited me here. She doesn’t know that I got hired though, so.”

“You were gonna surprise her.”

“I dunno, man. I’m trying to just… do things that feel good. Somehow, she has aligned with that. And I’m scared out of my mind, but she’s clever, so I figure if it’s her idea…” Bucky trailed off. “If anyone asks, just tell ‘em I had a quarter life crisis, and all i've ever dreamed of is sweeping up broken glass in a whiskey bar.”

Sam chuckled. “You’re gonna be late, mister barback.” Bucky saluted and turned down the alley to make his way to the front entrance. “Buck–”

“Hmm?”

“If this is you stupid… I hope you’re happy. You’ve been a miserable bastard.”

Bucky smiled. “We’ll see.”

He tucked his chin when the bell on the door tinkled; it was just as busy as it had been the first time he came, and he felt several sets of eyes settle on him, but he just pushed through the crowd until Mike caught sight of him, motioning for him to go through the kitchen door. Bucky stepped to the side to allow someone past him, but–

“You’re two-for-two, Barnes.” If she hadn’t grabbed his elbow, her words would’ve been enough to freeze him in place.

Bucky couldn’t help the smirk which pulled at the corner of his mouth, and he looked up at her–the woman of the hour. “Yeah.” She was beautiful, but that word failed to portray just how radiant she really was, especially with a look of happy surprise.

“You came.” She slid her hand down his forearm, but she didn’t link their fingers like he wanted her to. “Dare I hope you did it for me?”

He straightened and gently shook his sleeve from her grasp. He presented his new shirt. “I do have bills to pay,” he murmured. “I’m late, though.”

“Oh my god. You’re just full of surprises.”

“Call it a new leaf,” he said softly.

“Talk later?”

Bucky chuckled. “Tomorrow, remember?” Of their own volition, his fingers brushed her chin, and he ducked behind her. The moment he was on the other side of the kitchen door, Bucky sighed heavily… happily. Her expression had betrayed some kind of pride. If he had just shown up for her little gathering, he was sure she would be pleased, but this brought another reaction, one he hadn’t anticipated.

“You good, brother?” Mike stuck his head back into the kitchen.

“Yeah, sorry. Where can I throw this?” Bucky shucked off his coat.

“Hooks behind the door. Hey, uh–it’s a bit of a mad house right now, so can you help me 86 empties from the tables? Don’t take orders, just send ‘em to the bar. Take a rag with you. Any tips left on the table go into the jar behind the bar, anything handed directly to you is yours. Questions?”

Bucky blinked. “Where do empties go?”

“Glasses in the sink, bottles and cans in that recycle bin. If you think you can handle washing glasses and pressing ‘start’ on the dishwasher, you can attempt to tackle dishes.”

“I can handle that.”

“Oh, uh… you’re gonna get hit on. Comes with the territory. Don’t care if you flirt back, but don’t be a creep, and don’t fuck anyone on-property.”

“I’m not much of a flirt, but noted.”

“So I hear,” Mike chuckled, but he shrugged when Bucky’s eyes widened. “My cousin likes you. And that’s rare, so. I figure you’re a decent dude.”

“Rare how?” Bucky pressed, even as he fished a clean rag from a bin labeled FRESH in red marker.

“I don’t know, man. You should ask her. I got a line forming–you good to stay until bar close?”

“Sure.”

“Great. I hope you don’t live too far. Hard to catch a cab at two am.”

Mike disappeared again into the belly of the busy bar, and Bucky winced. Fuck. By the time they cleaned up and he got himself home, he’d only catch a few hours of shut eye before he had to be up again if he was going to make it to the coffee shop before his rescheduled packing date. What the hell, right? Either way he would’ve stayed up late–the insomnia had been stretching the limits of exhaustion for months, now, and at least she was out there. He had something to prove. He was rare. Rare sort of guys had to earn the designation, and if that was going to be the gig which kept the lights on, he had to make the most of it.

Bucky slung the rag over his shoulder and tugged at his shirt sleeve. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually showed his scars in public. Heck, he rarely walked around without them covered at home, but the bar was way too hot to wear the flannel he had brought over the top, and… well, it was dark, and probably nobody would notice.

“Hey, newbie–” Mike called through the doorway– “can you grab the broom and dustpan? Broken glass near the door.”

“On it!” Bucky looked around the cramped kitchen until he located the scraggly broom with mangled bristles, and hastened out through the crowd to find the spill.

The night progressed with much the same level of chaos; it turned out that a fair number of the patrons were in fact his former students, most of whom had been wrangled there by Sam. None of them knew the guest of honor very well, but his–the woman Bucky very much wanted to be His Girl, that is–mentee mingled through the room with ease. He envied the way she could open herself up to new people, as if they didn’t have one hand behind their back with a hungry knife. Bucky didn’t have any idea what that felt like. To him, new acquaintances were unwelcome unless they had no ulterior motives. Mike seemed alright, but Bucky couldn’t imagine himself becoming close to a guy who owned a whiskey bar–

“Think I could get a refill?” Bucky shrugged off a handsy woman and pointed at the bartender.

“Gotta ask him.”

“Ugh. But you’re right here!” she huffed.

“Candace–it’s not his job. Walk to the bar like a big girl.” Sam appeared at Bucky’s side and gave the woman a knowing look. She rolled her eyes and pushed off the hightop which she had been using to stay aloft.

“Whatever Wilson.” She flipped Sam off, but then a mischievous smile pulled at the corners of her eyes. Sam sighed dramatically and held out his hand for her empty glass.

“The things I’m willing to do for a pretty face,” he mock-whispered to Bucky.

“You never do things for me,” Bucky snorted. Sam narrowed his eyes.

“My suddenly heavier class load disagrees, bud.” Sam nudged him with his elbow. “Your naïveté is cute though, I’ll give you that. Want the same thing, ma’am?”

“Thanks, Sammy.” Candace stroked a finger down the buttons of Sam’s shirt, and the professor winked at her. Bucky put Candace on the list of things to bring up to Sam, along with just how much he had taken onto his plate with Bucky gone, but… that was for later. He followed Sam towards the bar, snagging bottles along the way, only to catch a startled look from Mike. He nodded over Bucky’s shoulder, and held out both hands to receive the empties. Bucky handed them over and whirled around, only to see a huge guy looming over one of his former students. Natalie? Natasha–someone else beat him there, and Bucky’s heart dropped into his feet.

He couldn’t hear what she was saying, but he knew that sudden hand-on-hip posture meant Y/n had inserted herself. The man straightened and Bucky launched forward at the same time. He had a lot of people to push through to get to her, all the while watching the man’s face twist in anger.

“--I’ll give you five seconds to get the fuck out of here,” Bucky’s girl growled, just as he reached her side. The moment he realized that the attention of the bar was turning on him, the disruptor turned on his heel and left.

Natasha reached out for Y/n. She was mortified by the attention, even if she was relieved to be rid of the man. Y/n made eye contact with Bucky. Her face lit up. Water? she mouthed. He held up a thumb. Bucky jogged back to the bar, through the crowd which was happy to part for the hustling barback. Without needing to be asked, Mike handed him one water… and an Old Fashioned.

“Thought I wasn’t serving,” Bucky snorted.

“Wouldn’t deny my cousin her drink, would ya?”

No. No, he wouldn’t.

Bucky returned to the table where Natasha and Y/n sat, now surrounded by a passel of concerned women. He silently delivered the water to Natasha, and slid the cocktail in front of Y/n… much to the delight of several women–blessedly none of whom were his former students.

“What a gentleman!” a woman with bright pink lipstick cooed. “I bet you gotta girl who swoons over you.”

“I don’t know about that,” he chuckled, deliberately avoiding eye contact with his girl at all costs.

“Awe, he’s shy!” Another woman said, in a tone which made Bucky bristle.

“You got somebody, honey?” The first woman wrapped her fingers around his left elbow. Bucky flinched, but she didn’t seem to notice. For reasons he couldn’t conjure, Bucky couldn’t force himself to move. He was frozen, like a deer in headlights, under the scrutiny of women old enough to be his mother.

“Leave the poor guy alone,” Y/n said lightly.

“It’s okay,” Bucky coughed. “I do have a girl, ma’am.” Then, he looked up. Y/n could mask her surprised expression. “I don’t know if she swoons, but she sure knows how to bust some balls. I like that about her.”

“Oh, she’s a broad!” one of the women exclaimed, as if that were the highest compliment on this side of the Hudson.

“Is she pretty?”

Bucky scoffed. “Prettiest girl you ever saw.”

The women giggled, including Natasha, who seemed quite relieved to no longer be the center of attention.

“How long you been together?” This time, it was Sam who spoke, and all the blood fled from Bucky’s cheeks. His friend clapped him on the shoulder, effectively trapping him into giving an answer.

“It’s new. I’m trying my best not to fuck it up. Almost did.” He scratched his chin and looked over his shoulder in the hope that Mike would throw him a Hail-Mary–but the bartender just shook his head with a big grin.

“Bring her flowers! My Stan knows that a good apology comes with flowers. It’s a garnish.”

“Huh,” Bucky said. “I don’t know if she’s a flower kinda girl.”

“Pssh. All women are. If you don’t know what she likes, then bring her something small. It’s the effort.”

“Good to know. I gotta get back to work, but uh–thank you, ladies.” He backed out of the small circle, and out of Sam’s teasing grip, but not before he caught Y/n taking a sip from her cocktail. She smiled softly, as if she had greatly enjoyed watching him get grilled by all those gathered. As he turned away, he saw her pull her cell phone from her pocket. A moment later, his back pocket buzzed.

PL: so you got a girl, huh

‘I'm so sorry, it just came out’

PL: you’re cute when you’re flustered. PL: sunflowers are my favorite.

Bucky looked over his shoulder once he was safely concealed in the doorway of the kitchen. Over the heads of rowdy bar patrons, the girl who liked sunflowers smiled at him. Then, she turned back to Natasha, who she had defended from a big creep, and Bucky was overcome with a feeling of pride in her.

It was strange… to feel young and embarrassed, and like the only worries in his life were answering invasive questions from nosy women.

Y/n waited him out until bar close; she nursed a few old fashioneds, while her new acquaintances got progressively drunker, and she dutifully helped pair people up for shared taxis back to campus. Sam departed without much pomp, but with the woman named Candace. For Bucky’s part, he got the hang of running empties back to the kitchen, and putting glasses through the dishwasher, and he thought that he might actually have fun with this job… even if it wasn’t intellectually stimulating. It still forced him to quiet his mind. He couldn’t worry about things outside of his control when he had spills to clean and bathrooms to restock with paper towels.

When the front door locked under Mike’s thumb, Bucky sat at the bar beside a woman who looked exhausted… but happy. She traced over the mottled scar, which peeked out from under his left sleeve, as if revering his skin. With a familiarity which wasn’t forced. Bucky put his shoe up on the footrest of her stool, and their knees pressed against one other. Mike drew no attention to the special privileges granted to his cousin, or to the obvious affection between the two of them. He merely handed Bucky his share of the tips, and then shooed them both out the door.

Once they were outside in the cool evening, Bucky put his hands in his coat pockets. Y/n curled her fingers around his elbow.

“Help me catch a cab?” she whispered, leaning closer to him when a chilly breeze swept down the street.

“I’ll take you home,” he said quickly. “I drove. Didn’t know how late I'd be here.”

She dipped her head so her laugh at his eagerness wouldn’t appear at his expense, but Bucky nudged his shoulder against hers. She peered at him through exhausted eyelids, but she nodded. “I know better than to argue.”

“I’m not sending you home with a serial killer,” Bucky said. He meant it sincerely, but it only made her laugh harder–a sweet, sleepy giggle.

“I already said yes.” She thumbed over her shoulder as if to ask where he had parked. Bucky nodded in the direction of his car (he had lucked out catching a spot just a few blocks away, so he wasn’t far.

They walked slowly. She hummed a bit. Bucky pressed his hand over hers at his elbow. Eventually, she hooked her fingertips with his.

“Mike said something I’ve been wonderin’ about,” he said, as they waited out a turning cab on the corner.

“Shoot.”

“He said it’s rare. For you to talk about anybody to him.”

“Oh boy, he’s giving away all my secrets,” she breathed. “Yeah. It’s true. You gotta be pretty great for me to tell Mike.”

“You told him about me.”

She shrugged. “Everything.”

Bucky switched their postures for the remainder of the walk so his arm was around her shoulders. She sidled her own arm under his jacket, to warm the small of his back. Every once in a while, he brushed his nose against her temple.

The car ride was shorter than Bucky hoped–just fifteen minutes on fairly deserted streets. For once, he wished traffic was bumper-to-bumper, so he had an excuse to sit beside her while the street lights bathed her in a golden glow every thirty feet. But she held his hand over the console, and that was consolation enough.

She directed him to her apartment building, and Bucky pulled up beside the curb. He sat back against his chair. She just watched him. He raised a brow.

“What?”

Y/n shook her head. “Sort of wanna kiss you, but I’ve been drinking. You know how I feel about that.”

Bucky held her hand up to his mouth to cover a grin. “How’d it go with Sam today?”

“Wasn’t much to do. Just choose the final poems and put them in an order which made sense for my thesis.”

“He said it’s a beast.”

She laughed. “Yep. I refused to cut anything.”

“Surprise, surprise.” Bucky studied her face. “I uh. ‘M glad you were there tonight.”

“You were nervous.”

He shrugged. “What the hell do I know about being a barback? Nah. I just… forgot how good it feels to be in a room full of people, doubting myself, only to catch you smilin’ at me.”

She groaned. “If you don’t want me to kiss you, you better cut that out.”

“I mean it, doll. You make me brave. Don’t know why.”

Y/n brushed his jaw with her free hand. “Do you wanna know how many people talked about you tonight?”

He rolled his eyes. “Fuckin’ rumors–”

“No, not like that! Just… how cool it was to see you relaxed.”

“I guess I was.”

“And who this mysterious girl is.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Fuck, I really didn’t handle that well.”

“You were fine. And if people assume, then so what? I’m almost outta there–”

Bucky turned in his chair so he could better look at her. “I was serious about the Dean finding out, doll. Or the board. I–shit. Should’ve dropped you off around the corner–”

“Ooookay. Listen–we’re consenting adults. Yeah? And unless you kiss me in public, it’s all just rumor. I can take a little talk. Besides… it’s not like you’ve asked me to be your girl. You just… hold my hand academically.” She squeezed his hand, which at least warranted a small smile from him.

“Once you’ve graduated,” he whispered.

“Then you’ll ask me?”

Bucky sighed. “Then I’ll stop looking over my shoulder for Stark, and worrying about kissing you–”

She cupped his jaw with both hands and silenced him with thumbs over his lips, so that she could press her own close without giving in to the joy of a real kiss. He felt her huff of frustration not to kiss him for real, and the rub of her thumbs over his bottom lip.

“A kiss is not a commitment,” she said lightly. “What if we just make that how we say goodbye and hello, and that’s all it has to be?”

Bucky folded forward, engulfing her in a tight hug. She turned her nose into his neck, and sighed. He fought the words he wanted to say–because he needed her to hear them, but more than that, he needed to actually say the thing he meant to for once in his life.

“Trouble is: that isn’t enough,” he mumbled into her temple. “Not when it’s you.”

“Bucky…” she breathed.

“I’m tired of doing the right thing. You told me to do something for myself–so here I am.” He rubbed his hands up and down her back, memorizing the texture of her sweater. “I want to kiss you. And when invasive old ladies ask me if I’ve got a gal, I want to point across the table at you. I’m scared shitless. I’m–shit. It doesn’t matter.”

“God, Barnes…” She paused enough to push back, so she could brace her hands on his chest and look him in the eye. “You are so hard on yourself.”

“Yeah,” he huffed. “I’m acutely aware.”

“So, you’re fighting yourself because of Dean Stark? The guy who wears gold goggles for sunglasses?” she giggled. “No–hush. Maybe you’re worth taking the risk for. Huh?”

Bucky straightened, determination thrumming through his body. “Tomorrow.”

“What about it?” She couldn’t stifle a delighted grin.

“I’m gonna kiss you. And it’s going to mean something.”

“Don’t have to convince me, Buck.” She peeked at the time on her phone and winced. “We should be asleep. We have somewhere to be in the morning.”

“Eleven,” he confirmed.

“Okay. I’ll see you then.” She patted his cheek, and slid out of the car before he could break his own promise to wait on that meaningful kiss. Bucky pressed the button to roll down the passenger window. He leaned over the seat.

“Hey!” he called. Y/n turned back to him with raised brows.

“What?”

“You’re gonna get kissed tomorrow.”

“Consider me warned,” she laughed. “Oh!” Y/n fished something out of her bag and jogged back over to the car. She held out her hand to him, with a folded up paper. “This is the only one I didn’t put in. It was ‘too indulgent’, according to Wilson. So.”

She winked, and unlocked her building door. The last thing he saw before it shut again was her fingers waving him off.

He unfolded the note–a poem, of course.

switching hour there was never a lonelier hour than three never a bleaker time never so uneasy a body and yet there never was a falser stretch where intrusive thoughts feel like gospel than three to sunrise.

Indulgent, maybe. Certainly nothing like her other pieces, which focused so much on her inner life, but… it was still special. He could remember the origin clearly–a conversation about a series of hers, based around who she was in the morning vs. the night. He had said to her–early mornings are bleak–something so simple, and watched her eyes sparkle with an idea.

He glanced at the clock on his dashboard. 3:18 am. Hmm. For once… she was wrong. This 3 am had been a turning point.

Bucky drove home in a daze. Alpine mewled at him indignantly when he nudged her off his pillow. He fell asleep, and he didn’t dream. What could his mind make up which was better than reality?

Morning came quickly. Bucky was delirious in his determination, but he managed to stumble into the shower and acceptable clothes, and feed the other woman in his life in her little dish before dashing out to meet her.

He swung open the office door, and there she was. Y/n sat in his leather desk chair, looking out the window across the quad, but she swiveled towards him when she heard the latch slide in the lock.

Bucky had spent years of his life chasing one good rush, and he had never found anything close. Until her. Looking at her then was like watching every failed happiness in his life fall away. He was sleep-deprived, and the cold brew cups sweated in his hands, and he had barely run a comb through his hair, but Bucky still felt like everything was perfect in that moment… especially with a small bouquet of sunflowers tucked under his elbow. He nudged the door shut with the sole of his sneaker. He set the coffee on the desk. Neither of them spoke.

He knelt beside the chair, and handed her the sunflowers. The tissue crinkled as she accepted them. She placed her hand on her forehead in a mock swoon.

One kiss brought her hand to his lips, and then those blessed fingers slid into his hair so she could fully lean forward. She kissed him on the mouth, soft like a whisper. Bucky raised up on his knees to cash in a third, and she hummed–she moaned. He knew very little in the grand scheme of things, but it was certain that he wanted her. He didn’t know if he deserved her, but that seemed to be irrelevant because their lips fit. And her fingers wound into his hair, scrubbed at his scalp, tugged him back to her the moment he seemed in danger of stopping.

As such, neither of them heard the knock, or the door opening, until heavy knuckles rapped on the doorframe. Y/n pulled away from Bucky with a start, fingers clasped over her lips, while Bucky cleared his throat.

He looked up into the face of Dean Stark.

Part 3

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