#moose moose is too sweet she would back down and let the child win

[calumsash]

the second battle

[yikeswtfmate]

Never Have I Ever

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Summary: Sam’s just had a bad date. Steve gets a sex ed lesson.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: dumbassery; language; alcohol consumption; sexual references/ themes

A/N: i don’t know how this came about, but it was bound to happen at one point  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

ANYWAY i would like to thank the sweetest angel in the whole entire universe @the-chocolate-moose for supporting me in every shit that i spew on this hellhole, you are the reason i am finally happy with this after weeks of having it in my drafts and I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!

The bar is crowded, an usual occurrence for a Saturday night, but the boys picked their usual booth in the corner, quiet enough so that there is no threat of Nat and Y/N going apeshit on another bachelorette party. There’s a huddle of empty beer bottles in the middle of the table, a good sign that all of them are already buzzed enough to be able to digest the awful song Sam’s just picked on the jukebox with a knowing grin on his face.

“So, how was your date last night, Wilson?” Nat asks, scooting over to make room for him. “Heard you didn’t come back home.”

“Eh.” He shrugs as he takes a sip of his beer. “Won’t be seeing her again, that’s for sure.”

“What? Why? Last time you said you really hit it off.” Steve turns to his friend, as much as Y/N’s spread legs under the table allow him. With a scoff at daring to move her, she just shifts them towards Bucky, hooking one of them over his own, which only earns her a pat on the shoulder – a request to settle down.

“She wanted me to spit in her mouth.”

Sam looks completely unfazed, but the expression on Steve’s face could be nothing short of priceless. They all look at him in confusion when he chokes on his beer, which in turn earns them a bewildered sound that might be a cross between a gurgle and a squawk.

“How can I be the only shocked one here?” He demands, shaking his hands back and forth in front of him. “Who wants someone to spit in their mouth?”

“Steve.” Y/N starts and places a reassuring hand on his wrist. “Honey. You sweet pure creature. Some people like that.”

“Yeah, we all have our kinks.” Sam shrugs once again. “That’s just not one of mine. If she would’ve wanted to call me ‘daddy’ I would’ve been all for that.”

Steve babbles something unintelligible, but Nat cuts him off with a raised eyebrow. “I’m guessing you and Peggy are really vanilla in bed then.”

“I’m sorry, but there’s no way girls might like…that.”

Bucky and Sam both snort and take another swig from their bottles, deciding that this one’s one for the girls. Nat and Y/N share a confused look, before they turn back to inspect Steve.

“There’s all sorts of weird shit girls like, sweetie.” Y/N explains, while feeling like she’s just telling a child their dog died.

“Yeah.” Nat adds. “I like bondage, for example.”

Y/N nods her head in understanding, while Sam and Bucky raise their bottles to show their respect. This whole thing seems to be too funny to be taken seriously, but they’re all way into the discussion and maybe a tad too drunk to change the subject and just leave poor blushing Stevie alone. Y/N can feel Bucky’s chest rumble with silent laughter beside her ribcage, but his fingers that have been dancing on her shoulder all night stop with her next words.

“Spanking and choking for me.”

It’s Bucky’s turn to choke on his beer, but no one seems to notice, except for Y/N who just shoots him a silent question with her raised eyebrow. She watches one corner of his mouth turning into a smirk, and he mouths “nice” with a knowing glint in his eye.

“Is that why you wrestle all the time?” Sam laughs, pointing the neck of his bottle between the two of them. “You like him choking you?”

“Oh, yeah. The part I enjoy most is the edging, you know? I totally enjoy having my best friend choking me with his big strong arms and then going home to masturbate.”

There’s a short silence in which Sam and Steve both look at her with horrified expressions, until Steve starts hissing about talking too loud. Sam waggles his eyebrows while making lewd comments, and Nat and Bucky just double over the table with laughter.

“Ok, ok, ok.” Nat hushes all of them with her palms up and turns to the two of them again. “Fine, but you can’t say that you’ve never felt a little excited when you’re going at it.”

Y/N looks up at Bucky who narrows his eyes in thought. He sloshes around the remaining of his beer, brushes a hand through his hair, obviously buying time but no one, not even Steve who’s enjoying the conversation now that it’s not directed at him, will let him get away with it.

“I plead the fifth.” He finally replies with a sigh.

“Oh, come on!” Y/N scoffs. “Do you want me to pull a never have I ever on you? Boy, come on, it’s pretty hard to hide it when it’s so much of it to hide. Pun intended.”

Another fit of laughter, a clink of the bottles between the girls, but Bucky just raises his arms in defeat.

“I’m a man! And you are...well, you know! You can’t expect me to not have any reaction to...all this!” Bucky says, his finger pointing from her head to her toe in emphasis.

“So you do think I’m hot! Admit it or we’ll be playing never have I ever until you do.”

Y/N pouts up at Bucky who just watches her through narrowed eyes, although there’s still a hint of a smile playing on his lips. His fingers brush up and down her shoulder – once, twice, three times. His expression is dopey, eyes glazed over because of the alcohol, but they’ve admitted a lot of shit throughout their friendship to feel weird about this.

“Fine. Never have I ever seen a more attractive woman than Y/N.”

“Yusss!” She lets out a shout and her raised fist nearly collides with his jaw, but he’s quick to duck to the side. “Awww, babes. Thank you so much. I’ll drink to that.”

The other three just shake their heads, already bored with their stupid antics. They’ve all been friends for too long not to be slightly annoyed with their unresolved sexual tension, but gone are the days when they’d try to get them together. Steve is still a firm believer in the potential a step into the right direction would have, but Nat steered him clear of it; deciding not to interfere, it’s easier to just laugh at how completely oblivious they are. Sam would just like to finally win the bet, although it would be rather difficult to know when that would happen because the two fuckers already act as if they’ve been in a committed relationship for years. They’d still be unsure even if they would see Bucky and Y/N kissing.

“You guys are disgusting.” Nat concludes.

“You’re just jealous I’ll never love anybody more than I do Bucko.” Y/N shrugs.

“Aw, baby, I love you the most as well.” He says and kisses her forehead. Y/N giggles and pecks him on the jaw, cuddling into his chest some more.

“Seriously!” Sam shouts. “Get married already, fuck!”

***

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[wt4kmm]

WATER

We don’t even talk about death--cause dying ain’t gotta be done today

We not ready to die--we keep just getting this started

Our audacity surfaces as the blueprint

And the blueprints are the maps

Domestic & internationally

The faces of every person that died already--are surfacing everywhere

--as the blueprint to rebuild the bricks of this dynasty--

Breath...easy

This is survival of the fittest

We are the off springs of the fittest

The Victors of the Fitters

Breathe

Easy

These answers are for the questions we can’t afford to be scared to ask no more

I saw my greatest great great grandmother for the first time in a dream last night

We had the same pair of eyes--kinfolk

She fed me without fire

Designed me amour--adornining me without a needle and thread--but water and air

After going to sleep off of ginger water--

She reminded me of living & protection

That we are the new --we are the improved

that we should do something about staying here a little longer

“Y’all be so gung-ho-to go”

grandmother water speaks

“You have never belonged on the bandwagon anyway--the ride been too full--with an emptiness too foreign to the map and design of you. Woman Child, eagle, fire bird,, way maker flesh of my flesh and blood of my blood that disguises itself in the crevices of the wind--winter is blessed--you are chosen-and you should do something about staying here a little longer--there’s honor in dying for something but you become a different type of giant when when you don’t die when you’re supposed to--when it’s written--there’s no eraser. ”

I spoke back:

“It’s not that we really ready to die--

it’s just sometimes a lot goes into breathing—a lot of us ain’t done catching our breaths--a lot of us don’t know how to--a lot of us just know how to run --how to try to catch up--

if we all not standing in the circle holding hands--the magic won’t work

The broom will beat us up and the doors will open & shut without a hand on it-- the windows will break on its own the curtains will tangle us all up--

“That’s what happens when you try to catch up where you aren’t in the running”

She said worry about yourselves

She told me to stop to remember we are the alchemist of the sun--the function of the moon

the highest and the lowest points of truth & illusion

She asked “ever seen a watermelon destroy a volcanic fire?” we control where 92% of that water goes.

----------------------------------------------------------------

I’m from this

Round

Yellow

Brown

Crown

Oak

Purple

Heavy

Dark  Brown

Dark and Black

Dark and Bright

*x2*

Never see through

while burning and never the same when shit hits the fan

Or a son hits the ground--or a daughter who doesn’t make it to tomorrow when all she was doing was laying down & Olu I think of your face everyday I look at mine in the mirror or in the wind when it’s late and I’m walking under dark trees--praying I don’t run into anyone who doesn't know that their trauma is mine too---hope he makes his mind up to see me & see the best parts of his mother

I’m from women who will talk you into the color: calm

While with a head full of chaos like a bullet bubbling  in a barrel of a gun

Palms sweating--jittery off of coffee, making it happen, and 4 hours of sleep

Somehow cool—women maintain

We still get up and we feed the babies

I come from this

Stepping out of women

Spread thick across their own worlds like lotuses

Who on one shoulder

had the world on it

Who

On the other shoulder

Balanced the heaven in her head as simple as a “goddamn break” from trying catch up & the one Jesus tells her has pearly gates

--balances hell

like imaginary shapes she hides from herself to keep herself

never lost, for as sure as her hands stir the pot--there’s food

Sweet potatoes 36 ways

We are the women of the sun and the moon--we are the belly of a compass

Pickpocketing stars & rent money

We make a way out of no way--

10 dollars stretch against her bra & breast & lasting for weeks

Born into--

Women who use improvisation to become masters

Born into the challenge and the victory

Women who sit themselves out on cliffs to jump

and not die

Women who talk to God in classrooms

And practice him on athletic fields--and in the parking lot

We get audacity from grandmothers.

Working up the nerve as grand as 10,000 armies like a grandmother

Pot full of beans filling us for weeks --like Charlotte

Grandma would buy 1 whole chicken

Cook it and we’d have soup, lunchmeat, chicken & rice

Charlotte would spread it thin like she had 8 legs

Turns out she just has powers

9 lives like porch cats

My grandmother mean if that’s what you wanna call audacity

but she’ll give you and your kids her shirt if it’s cold

a house if it’s raining

if you standing outside barefoot

she’ll give you her shoes

It's audacity that makes up our rarest form of magic and magicians who look like us

Handmade by God disguised as Grandmothers

Mine made home fries & salmon cakes with sardines

Hardly ever baked, goods from scratch

Just payed home insurance

with formulas and rubrics in her sweat glands

Ever-y uphill--fight--counts more than any downhill fall

Deliberately she is made up solely of delivering herself

Mother

saves them all

Mother

Mother

save them all

I am from who gets scared of her own reflection

But remains a fact

up front

At attention

These mothers don’t take orders

But scriptures

And surahs--not in binded leather but in blue skies and blue water

Fingertips stitched with electricity and intuition

‘And that mine eyes are ever toward the Lord; for he shall pluck my feet out of the net’

And that “All dominions of heaven and earth belongs to Allah, he gives life and causes death’

Before hash-tagged, women who are

Yemaya and Oshun in spirit and in flesh

Who before the tabernacle was invented knows where the scriptures were stolen from in place of our land

creates justice,

gives justice,

is justice in the eyes

Of herself, without flash

Women who revere on foot

Who don’t know nothing about counting no money

but  makes it all the way to three hundred and sixty  

On foot--not using her hands & without a shadow of a doubt

The first one to choir rehearsal

And they all; always the last to leave--caught up in the ritual of praise; the holy ghost of the music who lurk in foyers & tambourines

When the lights go out

The women I come from rub their hands together like Birdman for fire, heat for the house

laugh and sing until there’s a rumble in the walls

Wash each others feet in lukewarm water

Chant,

Quote

Dance

Pray—

Sing loudly

while steadily bleeding

They laugh loudly together

Cause the blood...falling on them

Woman, I’m grateful for your mothership

Your chariots of  rainbows

Whether in black and white or in color

Woman, your colors have turned darkness into day

I’ve never gotten the truth from the bible that I didn’t have to cross reference

With you as my study

You make me believe in the glare they said wasn't mine but I know it belongs to me

You are the reading rainbow of common sense

I’m breathing in your sacrifices

inhaling your truth --  I'm not just making it through

My life here, is an ode to you

I have turned into God, for you

I will challenge everything I do not believe as the truth

I will follow myself into any abyss--if the spirit uses me so

I will combat what was taught me— find it for myself

I will bring back what I have gathered and teach you to let go of the cross

And except your winnings as the ones you worked for

Challenging you to see yourself as God

Because woman you are my source

One could only create another

You deserve more than flowers woman you deserve to live

I will, in your honor, reach higher, lotus

For you--I will make a paradise out of birds--gamble everything where truth sees fittest

I will stand statuesque like two moose making love where plain eyes see fighting

She asked:

If a circle is solid, is it full or empty?

[lisinfleur]

Lady of the Lake - Epilogue: All the small things

Author's notes: Here it is, one more work finished! Thank you @dangerousvikings for the inspiration, sweet @honestsycrets for the help with the biggest decisions and all of you for the presence in one more of my series!

Warnings: None. Just sweetness!

Words: 1437

“Is not the same, Sigs. I’ll need some more training to adapt to this new situation”, Siv said, letting go of the sword and sitting near the water jar, pouring some for them both to refresh a little.

Six months after the event, her face was permanently marked by a scar and her eyes were now different from each other: the left eye was grey, almost white; while the right one remained the wild green Sigurd always thought was so beautiful.

“It’s not fair!” he complained, sitting by her side and accepting the cup of water she offered “You can’t fight anymore and this is my…”

Before he could finish his sentence, Siv placed her hand in his mouth, shutting him up.

“Stop,” she said, softly “You would have done the same for me and you know this, Sigurd”.

“I also know how much you trained to become a shieldmaiden and how much you loved it,” he said, sighing frustratedly.

“I’m not retired, silly one,” she smiled, taking a sip from her cup “I’ll be fine, Sigs. I just have to train my sight camp again. I won’t be able to go in the next raids, but I think in one season or two I’ll be kicking your ass once again” she joked, smiling bigger.

“I think we should… Nah. Let it go. Stupid idea,” Sigurd cut his own thought getting up to gather their things.

But Siv held him by the hand, looking straight into his eyes.

“Say it,” she said, and Sigurd noticed she knew how his sentence would end.

“I know you feel uncomfortable with it because of your father’s words, Siv…” he started, feeling her grip in his hand become a little tighter.

Some agony in her eyes when she started speaking.

“I held myself and swallowed my feelings about you for all this time because of my father’s words. I almost lost you because of my fear to become what he said. I could have told you about my love and you wouldn’t be alone to allow that damn monster to mesmerize you that way, Sigs,” Siv said, holding the glare deeply into his eyes “I lived my entire life running away from my father’s words, trying to prove he was wrong about me. I didn’t play when I was a kid, I didn’t date anyone, my life was entirely dedicated to the frustrations of a dead man. I don’t wanna lose any more time of my life because of him. Please, Sigurd… Say it,” she asked.

Sigurd could see she was fighting herself, her own fears, for them.

Fighting for him once again.

But in this fight, he could help her. He could be strong for them and borrow his strength for her to win her monsters.

He softly took Siv’s hands into his and caressed her fingers with his thumbs. There was no other woman for him but the one who risked her own life for his, for loving him. She was the one and he knew this.

“I know you want to keep training and going into raids… But since you’ll be a time away from this…” he took a breath and with it, the courage to say the words until the end “I think we should get married”.

Siv smiled.

Through her entire life, she fought that name and her father’s words like a curse. But it wasn’t a curse beside him… To be Sigurd’s bride, his soon-to-be wife… It sounded like a dream. A dream she kept into herself as a secret for too long to keep pretending it wasn’t there.

“I agree with you,” she said, trying not to sound so emotional, “I think I already did enough to deserve a bigger title than ‘Sigurd’s girlfriend’” she tried to joke.

But Sigurd didn’t laugh this time. Since that day, when she almost died for him, he was constantly thinking about this.

About how many years they lost or how happy they could have made each other.

Sigurd knew Siv since when? He couldn’t even remember how long or how was his life before he knew that girl. She knew him better than anyone else. She was always by his side. He didn’t want to lose any more time and his seriousness caused Siv’s breath to fail and her heart to skip a beat.

Would he…

“Siv…” he started.

And so, she knew he would.

“I want you to be my wife,” he stated, with all the letters this time.

No open breaches for questioning.

“I don’t wanna lose any more time. I want to seal what we both know is the fate the Gods blessed me with. At the end of this moon, we’ll have the spring festivals and I want to celebrate them with our marriage this year. Do you…” he started the question, but Siv went in her tiptoes and kissed him deeply, embracing his neck and mumbling against his lips when the kiss was over.

“I do,” she said, smiling at him when he embraced her waist, smiling back “I do, Sigs. I want to be your wife!”

They exchanged a passionate kiss, long and deep, full of all that love they had locked into themselves for so long. The kiss only parted when Ivar’s voice sounded, warning the younger brother was coming into the training camp, kinda surprising the couple.

“I will be offended if you choose any of our brothers other than me to offer your wife a way to you, Sigurd.”

Sigurd frowned, looking at his brother with a confused expression.

“Why would you want to do anything for me, Ivar?” the bardic prince questioned, keeping Siv’s waist embraced, despite his younger brother’s presence.

Ivar chuckled.

“Not for you. For her,” he said, smiling at Siv.

And Siv smiled back looking at Ivar and surprising the cocky brother with her tender words.

“I wouldn’t want anyone else,” she said “I’ll always remember you helped me, Ivar. You gave me a way to Sigurd once and I wouldn’t want this to be different now”.

They smiled to each other and Sigurd relaxed, lowering his guard. Maybe it would be a good way to calm down things between them both, after all…

   ---

“In the spring festival of that year, your father and I were married in a beautiful ceremony we made in the woods, near that lake where everything happened”, Siv said, smiling at the couple of kids she had attentively listening to her words – a boy, around five years old, conceived at the year she got married to Sigurd as a sign of the Gods satisfaction with the union; and a girl around three years old; both of them blonde like their father who leaned himself at the door, looking at the three of them.

The kids sat on their beds. The boy – Asmund, which name means “divine protection” – spoke first.

“Now I wanna hear that one about your raid with fadir to England!”

His sister – Skuld, as a gift to the goddess who wrote their good fate – came right after him.

“NO! I wanna hear this one again!” she complained.

However, Sigurd’s voice sounded before the arguing could start in between the little ones.

“Not one, nor the other. It’s time for the two of you to sleep” he said, sitting in Skuld’s bed, while Siv was covering Asmund “Your mother needs to rest so she can properly cook your brother or sister right here,” he said, softly touching Siv’s swollen belly, caressing it sweetly. “Don’t you two want to see him or her?”

“Yes!” they answered unison, and Siv smiled.

“So, let us all go to bed now. The faster we sleep, the faster the day will come and soon your new brother or sister will be here,” she completed, kissing Asmund’s forehead before doing the same to Skuld.

“Good night,” Sigurd said, receiving a double answer from the children before leaving the room with the door half open.

His stained eyes landed on Siv slowly walking back to their room. The time was approaching for them to know his third child, but she was always so beautiful, full of his seed…

“What? Admiring your giant-swollen-round-fat duck?” she asked, playfully.

Sigurd smiled, coming near, embracing her from behind and caressing her belly while kissing the crook of her neck.

“Just thinking about how happy and lucky I am for being married to you, red-head,” he joked with an old nickname and Siv turned around to kiss him softly.

“Yeah… You’re lucky, Sigs,” she joked back, smiling and nuzzling her nose to his “And so am I.”

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