#mcu writing challenge

[marvelstoriesepic]

✿ 2k Drabble Challenge ✿

Welcome, my sweet beans!! 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

This is the option of my poll from a week ago that received the most votes, so here we are now. I'm so excited for this!!

I've been feeling a little stuck in a writing slump lately, and I'm hoping this sweet little challenge will help me shake that off and get the words flowing again.

I've had such a strong start into this year and I don’t want it to end yet. This might be exactly the push I need to keep going - and I am so looking forward to creating something with and for you!! ♡

Thank you so much to everyone who voted and congratulated me for this incredible milestone!! If your choice didn’t win, don’t worry. During this poll I've been thinking about doing a writing challenge myself, so I guess you will get to see one within this year. And I know myself, so I believe I will still run a WIP poll soon because I often hit that moment where I don’t know what project to work on next.

Below you will find everything you need to know, how to send a prompt, the guidelines, and a mix-and-match pairing list to help inspire your ideas! Can’t wait to see what you come up with!

Divider by @saradika ♡

What is this?

To celebrate reaching 2k followers I will be writing drabbles (1-2k words) based on prompts that you send me. ❁ ✿ ❀

All of these stories will feature Bucky x Reader

How to participate:

You can leave your prompt in either:

✿ The comments of this post

✿ My inbox

Rules and Guidelines:

✿ I only write for Bucky Barnes.

✿ I'm sorry for this, but to participate I would like you to be a follower of my blog. This is a follower celebration post, after all, and I will only take prompts from my sweethearts. This is not meant to make anyone follow me, but I think it’s fair that way.

✿ I will not write smut, non-con, dub-con, or anything dark - please keep prompts SFW and respectful. It can be slightly suggestive but I will not go into details in that regard. (And please nothing about Bucky and reader being Exes because that is triggering for me as weird as it sounds)

✿ One prompt per follower, but my sweet mutuals can send up to three (because I love y'all and your brains)

✿ Prompts can be a vibe, a scenario, a dynamic, a little scene idea, a quote, anything you creative people come up with.

✿ You are welcome to request:

-> a small scene for a fic of mine that’s already posted

-> something I haven’t explored yet, choosing from the list below

-> something else entirely (your own idea)

✿ Feel free to provide as much detail as you wish regarding what you’d like me to write, but please remember that the story will (likely) not exceed 2k words.

✿ The deadline to send me prompts is April 20th [12pm (EST)/6pm (CEST)]

✿ I'm really not sure how many requests will come in - it could be a handful, or it could be a flood - so I may shorten or extend the deadline depending on what feels right for me and how things go. I will keep you all updated, of course!

Mix & Match AUs for Inspiration:

Pick an AU for Bucky + one for Reader (or make up your own)! Combine them however you want, and give me a prompt to go with it.

You do not have to give me a pairing at all, or choose one from this list! This is simply to provide you with a few suggestions and perhaps spurt some ideas. If you prefer to create something yourself, then you are, of course, very welcome to do that ♡

If you have some more ideas for those pairings, then I would happily take those and add them here. Please let me know in the comments, so if I should miss something, others can see it too.

𑁍 Bucky AUs 𑁍

✿ Mechanic ✿ Lumberjack ✿ Tattoo Artist ✿ Bartender ✿ Florist ✿ Veteran ✿ Store Owner ✿ Customer ✿ Biker ✿ Delivery Guy ✿ Avenger ✿ Librarian ✿ Athlete ✿ College student/athlete ✿ Park Ranger ✿ Cowboy ✿ Thief ✿ Bandit ✿ CEO ✿ Roofer ✿ Ranch owner ✿ Neighbor ✿ Roommate ✿ Doctor ✿ Pilot ✿ Shop Owner ✿ Pirate ✿ Knight ✿ Prince ✿ Bodyguard ✿ Flight Attendant ✿ Photographer ✿ Security Guard ✿ Personal Trainer ✿ Boxer ✿ FBI Agent ✿ Detective ✿ Frat ✿ Police Officer ✿ Market Stand Owner/Helper ✿ Outlaw ✿ Racer ✿ Babysitter ✿ Childhood friend ✿ Rival ✿ Stripper ✿ Best friend's brother ✿ Hopeless Romantic ✿ Grumpy ✿ Sunshine ✿ Fake boyfriend ✿ Modern ✿ Life Guard ✿ Bounty Hunter ✿ Fugitive ✿ Farmer ✿ Farm/Ranch Hand ✿ Sheriff ✿ Fuckboy ✿ Gym Trainer ✿ Chef ✿ Ex-Military ✿ Husband ✿ Archangel ✿ Witness to […] ✿ Baker's son ✿ Rancher ✿ DJ ✿ Musician ✿ Actor ✿ Movie Maker ✿ Lawyer ✿ Spy ✿ best friend ✿ 40s ✿ Winter Soldier

𑁍 Reader AUs 𑁍

✿ Cheerleader ✿ Mechanic ✿ Barista ✿ Volunteer at […] ✿ Neighbor ✿ College student/athlete ✿ […] Student ✿ Sorority girl ✿ Roommate ✿ Florist ✿ Musician ✿ (Hobby) Singer ✿ Therapist ✿ Librarian ✿ Nurse ✿ Vet ✿ Doctor ✿ Witch ✿ Nymph ✿ Healer ✿ Shop/Store Owner ✿ Customer ✿ Seamstress ✿ Time Traveler ✿ FBI Agent ✿ Detective ✿ Police Officer ✿ Personal Assistent ✿ Racer ✿ Civilian ✿ Widow ✿ SHIELD Agent ✿ Journalist ✿ VIP ✿ Babysitter ✿ Rival ✿ Enhanced ✿ Pet Owner ✿ Market Stand Owner/Helper ✿ ✿ Villain ✿ Hopeless Romantic ✿ Grumpy ✿ Sunshine ✿ Fake girlfriend ✿ Pilot ✿ Flight attendant ✿ Bounty Hunter ✿ Fugitive ✿ Medic ✿ Bartender ✿ Waitress ✿ Ranch Owner's Daughter ✿ Model ✿ Gym Trainer ✿ Wedding Planner ✿ Teacher ✿ Divorced ✿ Married ✿ Wife ✿ Childhood friends ✿ Witness to […] ✿ Princess ✿ Maid ✿ Baker's daughter ✿ Horse Whisperer ✿ Nail tech ✿ Event Planner ✿ Stripper ✿ Farmer ✿ Rancher ✿ Siren ✿ Underground Hacker ✿ Bounty Hunter ✿ Vigilante ✿ Actress ✿ Spy ✿ Servant ✿ Pirate

After the Challenge:

Once the deadline has passed and I've finished writing, I'll post a Masterlist of all the drabbles so everything is in one place for you to read through and hopefully enjoy! ♡ ♡

This gives you time to put thought into your prompt, and it gives me the time I need to write.

If you have any questions, please please please ask me. There may have been something I missed mentioning, or you’re not sure about a certain point. I'm always here to answer.

Thank you for everything! I'm so grateful to be in this space with you all. I love you, my honeybuns!! Stay save and heathy!! I can’t wait to see what you send me. 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

[elixirfromthestars]

WELCOME TO MY CAFE! ˖°.₊˚☕⊹♡

I miss interacting with fellow writers and readers, so I decided to host my own little writing challenge ♡ Between juggling grad school prep and an internship, I wanted to do something to keep me connected to this lovely community, so welcome everyone to my cozy little cafe :) 

The writing challenge starts today and closes on September 29th (National Coffee Day). I will be reading + reblogging every fic. The masterlist will be posted at the end. (if you see this anytime later or can’t make the deadline do not fret, if anything below inspires you, you are welcome to write and tag me and I will add your submission to the masterlist♡)

Below are the rules, prompts, and guidelines ♡

who you can write for: all marvel characters are welcome / any fictional sebastian stan or chris evans characters are welcome too (any characters they’ve portrayed based on real life people will not be accepted though!!) (please keep it to x reader fics only!!)

some general guidelines: Below I’ve provided a number of different prompts and songs for inspiration ♡ Anyone can use them and mix and match however you’d like!! If you use any please let me know somewhere in the post! If none of them below inspire you, to stay within theme please include either a cafe or coffee somewhere in the fic :) 18+ fics are welcome, just please add warnings! Any length of fics are welcome, but if it’s over 500 words please add the “keep reading” option. If you write something as part of a bigger series please write your submission as a standalone ♡

˖°.₊˚☕⊹♡ This is a sweet and cozy little cafe, but of course, there is always a possibility of rain. If anything below inspires an angsty fic, then by all means go ahead and write it! Your submission does not have to include fluff! 

what is not accepted: no dark fics, anything involving minors, incest, rape, noncon/dubcon 

how to enter: please tag me and use #elixirscafe when you post ♡ i’ll leave a like to let you know I saw it and reblog it once I read it :) if i haven’t responded to your post send me an inbox or dm please and thank you! 

Happy writing! My inbox is always open for any questions or comments!! ♡  

What table are you sitting at? 

♡ Coffeeshop AU 

♡ Soulmate AU 

♡ Bakery AU 

♡ Regency Era AU 

♡ Western AU

♡ Neighbor AU 

♡ Pen Pal AU

♡ Small Town AU 

♡ Royal AU

♡ College AU

Would you like a sweet treat?

🍩 ༄ؘ “No, I’m not letting you go. It’s too early to get out of bed.” 

🍰 ༄ؘ Saying I love you for the first time.

🍪 ༄ؘ “ Would it be alright if I borrowed your sweater? It smells like you.” 

🍫 ༄ؘ  “ You...you learned how to cook my favorite meal?”

🧁 ༄ؘ “ I’m not going to get sick, you baby. Just let me hold you.” 

🥧 ༄ؘ  “ What else do I need when I have my whole world in my arms?”

🍮 ༄ؘ “ I’m only doing it because you’re cute.” 

🥯 ༄ؘ “ Could you hold my hand?” 

🥞 ༄ؘ “ I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.” 

🍞 ༄ؘ “ I like hearing your heart beating when I put my head on your chest.” 

🍯  ༄ؘ “ Why don’t you tell me what I can do to make your day better?” 

🥐 ༄ؘ “ I’ve tried to forbid myself from falling in love, but now I can’t help it.”

Do you like the music in the cafe? Which song should I play next?

˖°.₊˚☕⊹♡ Feel free to use the lyrics below, the entire feel of the song, or any other lyrics in the song! The playlist is below in case you want to go through and listen to the songs while you write ♡

Apple Cider “ And I don’t even like you that much. Wait, I do, fuck. Call me at midnight. Let’s give this a try.” Beabadoobee

Apple Juice “ Don’t let goodbyes come too easy. Love me, just let me know that you need me.” Jessie Reyez

Apple Pie “I found you under an April sky, and you feel like city life, apple pie baked just right. Home is wherever you are tonight.” Lizzy McAlpine

August “ And I can see us twisted in bedsheets. August slipped away like a bottle of wine.’Cause you were never mine.” Taylor Swift

Bubble Gum “ Sorry I didn’t kiss you, but it’s obvious I wanted to.” Clairo

Caramel “ Love like a landslide, I kiss you goodnight. It used to be easy.” 5SOS

Cardigan “And when I felt like I was an old cardigan, under someone's bed. You put me on and said I was your favorite.” Taylor Swift

Chai Tea “ I love sippin’ chai tea, with you across from me. I love hearing your voice, talkin ‘bout nothing.” Audrey

Champagne Problems “ You had a speech, you’re speechless. Love slipped beyond your reaches, and I couldn’t give a reason.” Taylor Swift

Chocolate “ I need more time off with you to turn you on. And I want to wake up without the alarm. A thousand eyes on me constantly, but I just want you.” Ziggy Alberts

Cinnamon “ It’s a slow cinnamon summer. Your spell is pulling me under. Rowing in a wooded hollow. Showing me the moves to follow.” Jome

Coffee Breath “ Make me fantasize,'bout you baby. And you smell so sweet, like fresh-picked daisies.” Sofia Mills 

Coffee Cup “ So we’re swapping our cups, and after a while, we’re swapping a glance. And I can think nothing better than starting the year with a drop of romance.” Anthony Lazaro

Espresso “ Now he’s thinkin’ ‘bout me every night, oh. Is it that sweet? I guess so. Say you can’t sleep, baby, I know. That’s that me espresso.” Sabrina Carpenter

Grapejuice “ I was on my way to buy some flowers for you. Thought that we could hide away in a corner of the heath. There’s never been someone who’s so perfect for me.” Harry Styles

Honey + Tea “Girls like flowers, clever poetry. That old adage doesn't work on me, but conversation and a cup of tea. Boy, you had me at philosophy.” Mōzi

Milk & Honey “ So come meet me in the garden, where the angels sing. We’re mixing up milk and honey, soft lips divine. Slow cherry and lay me down, oh, she’s coming to set me free.” Jessarae

Pancakes for Dinner “ I’ll try to hide the way I feel, but I’ll just wanna shout. What do I have to lose right now?” Lizzy McAlpine

Thin Mints “ If you let me lova ya like I wanna, write you all the poems like Whitman. You can take my Thin Mints, if you let me love ya like I wanna.” Evan Crommett

Too Sweet “ I think I’ll take my whiskey neat. My coffee black and my bed at three. You’re too sweet for me.” Hozier

playlist for the songs above can be found here: 🧸

to my lovely mutuals, please don’t feel pressured to participate or share, just thought I’d share this with you all ♡  

@peteyprecious616 ♡ @malum-forev ♡ @rosepetalsinwinter ♡ @inkedreverie ♡ @nickfowlerrr ♡ @missraion ♡ @pocolottie​ ♡ @sweetiebarnes ♡

[bcystar]

you were on the floor.

your knees were to your chest and your tears flowing nonstop.

joaquín gently rattled his key in the lock and opened the door. he was drenched. his boots squeaked as he shuffled in as quietly as he could. he scoped around the kitchen and living room, looking for a box. the box that was the cause of all of your tears. all of your pain.

it held so many of the items you held close to your chest for the last five years. the hoodies and sweats that always kept you warm in lack of joaquín’s presence, his little trinkets he found at random shops while deployed or on missions, gadgets he’d made when he had too much free time. what hurt most was the ring you’d grown to love so much for the last two years of your relationship.

joaquín had to go on an emergency mission right after the break up. it gave you enough time to pack up and isolate his belongings from yours. you’d saved your favorite items of his for last, too attached to them. only when you’d taped that cursed box did you realize what your life was now. no more of joaquín’s warm and protective arms holding you anymore, no more of his loving kisses that you were obsessed with, but most importantly, no more of the person who loved and knew you most.

your confidant. almost life partner. you’d planned your entire future together. he’d said “i don’t care how many kids we have, as long as i have you with me.”, all you could do was smile at him. you’d wanted a quiet life away from commotion. he’d promised it to you, as if it’d kill him if he didn’t get you everything you wanted. he wanted two dogs and a cat, and an alpaca. he never explained why and you giggled at his nonchalance on it.

the two of you had minimal contact while he was on this mysterious mission. he came back after two weeks. you didn’t leave your apartment once. just stayed watching the wall. sometimes moving to the balcony to look at the bustling city of Washington D.C. you only started packing his things after the third day. first his clothes and shoes, leaving a pair of pajamas and a decent outfit, then his electronics, then everything else, and then the box.

his sister had came by with two of their other cousins to collect the boxes. they’d stuck around for a bit after hauling all of the boxes onto the moving truck that they’d rented. you were close. of course you were close. you were basically family. you’d been at countless birthdays, baby showers, weddings, and gatherings alike. of course they were worried. you shook off their worries with a forced bright smile and affirming words, promising them you were alright. with much reluctance, they left, only after giving you one last bone crushing hug.

he rounded the corner to the room you were basically hiding in. hiding from what? you had no idea. maybe if you didn’t leave, joaquín wouldn’t either. that way you wouldn’t lose each other. he twisted the door handle but didn’t open the door. he left it closed. scared of seeing the bedroom stripped of him. every bit of himself that he’d brought to your life and home taped in a box, on its way back to Miami. ��you okay in there?”

you stayed quiet.

“i’m coming in.”

you made no attempt to hide your tears. this was not the worst joaquín had seen you. he’d seen you through everything. nonetheless, no feeling could compare to the sight before him. your eyes were bloodshot—almost as if someone had poked your eyes—and snot was running down your nose. your lips quivered and you breathed little ragged breaths to calm yourself. you were a mess, you both could see it, you just didn’t want it to be too obvious.

“there’s the last of your stuff,” you nodded your head to point towards the box.

“I washed all of the clothes and cleaned everything else in the box, don’t worry.”

your voice was quiet. broken. as if someone had peeled away at the joy from you like paint on a wall. that someone was joaquín, and he did it without even realizing. guilt spread through his body like water to paper and he too could feel tears. “i’m sorry.”

you looked up.

“sorry for what? for saving people? for being a hero?”

“for not being able to keep my promises to you.”

he walks towards you and crouches to your level.

“i promised you a quiet life. far far from here, from the villains and the monsters. i promised you our cat and dogs. a future.”

“don’t beat yourself up, hero life follows you around like a tail.” you let out a broken chuckle.

“it was no excuse for me to not uphold my promise.”

for a moment everything went still. all the resentment and anger that you’d built up against him during his absence seemed to disappear. he was so certain that he was going to marry you. he’d wanted peace and quiet with you. you’d wanted it back with him.

“I’d beg you to stay but i know this is what’s best for us. that no matter how many promises we make to each other, there’ll never be a guarantee. you’re busy falcon-ing and i’m busy not. i need you quino, but i want you to myself, and unfortunately, the world needs you. so you go out there and you kick some bad guy ass, when you decide that you’ve had enough, i’ll be right here. that’s one thing i can guarantee you.” you cup his face with both of your hands and give him a smile. weak, but there.

you rest your foreheads together, your tears starting to slow. you breath in sync, feeling each other for the last time. not feeling physically but emotionally. sharing one last intimate moment.

his face starts to angle closer and closer to yours. you know what he’s doing, you desperately need him to do it. his mouth is a breath away, your heart is beating in anticipation. he pauses just before you make contact, an unsure pause, as if he thought you didn’t want it. you close the gap between you two, assuring him that you do want it. that you do want him.

his movements are slow and shaky. your hands remain on his cheeks and his come to cup yours too. it’s raw. no hurry, no anger, no hard feelings. just two lovers saying their last goodbyes without words. neither of you move. his taste is so sweet, you could be hung on his lips forever. his lips were slightly chapped, nothing you couldn’t handle. they were something you’d grown quite fond of throughout your relationship. he was unlike anyone else you’d ever been with. his kisses were definitely unlike anything you’d ever felt.

it almost killed you to pull away. he opened his eyes to look at you but you kept yours closed. you knew if you opened them you’d see the tears flowing down his face. you’d see the pure dejected look on his eyes that always held joy in them. of course you wanted to see him for the last time, it’s the face of your true love looking at you with pure devotion. joaquín torres is known for being a joyful. his happy go lucky attitude and positivity is basically his trademark. so you almost felt special knowing that you were the only person to see him like this. teary eyed and broken.



[musingsofheaven]

Say hello to lotus!reader…

“The water was never kind. Still, the lotus bloomed.”

Lotus!Reader who… wears knit sweaters layered over mid-length skirts. She says she likes it because it’s easier to move and more comfortable, and she is lazy because you can just throw it on her body without getting worried about the style. She wears flats with thin soles to still dance while walking or tap nicely when anxious. If she wears heels, they’re barely two inches; she doesn’t want her feet to get hurt. Her outfits are practical but pretty, feminine without ever trying too hard. She dresses like she has somewhere to be, even when she doesn’t.

Lotus!Reader who… only wears blush and lip gloss. She always looks fresh, though. Her cheeks are always a little flushed, like she’s heating up, her mouth always a little shiny, which can be compared with post-makeout lips. She smells like warm laundry and something floral but not overpowering, just enough to stay in the room after she leaves. She doesn’t try to make an impression, but she manages to just go on.

Lotus!Reader who… listens to music more than she speaks. She says it calms her down, makes her forget her emotions, and controls them. Her favorite song is Gypsy by Fleetwood Mac, and she never skips it. She always sings along with it and knows the lyrics by heart. Speakers in the kitchen, headphones by the bed, and a private playlist for when she’s completely alone. Julie Byrne, Weyes Blood, Bedouine, Nick Drake. She doesn’t want to admit it in front of others, but she feels like an old soul. Songs that sound like longing. Music with space in it- something to get lost inside. When she cleans, she dances. Twirls barefoot on hardwood. Doesn’t even realize she’s smiling.

Lotus!Reader who… buys herself flowers every week, or at least twice a month. It’s like a treat to herself, she always thinks it that way. Maybe it calms her. Perhaps she just likes having it in her apartment, something to inhale every morning until it dried and died. Pale lilies, white tulips, eucalyptus, blush-toned stems. She trims the ends like it means something. Rearranges the vase with both hands. It’s not for show. She just likes taking care of pretty things.

Lotus!Reader who… is an introvert with a big heart. She had a large friend group in high school, the one that never got away and just stayed. She was never the loud one. She’s just there. Quiet in the corner. Prefers listening and reading. Never the center. But always the one people turned to when they were hurting. She remembers birthdays. She remembers her favorite snacks. She remembers people. Now she keeps two best friends close and carefully chosen, deeply loved with all her heart. She texts them in all lowercase. Sends links to sad songs. Never says when she’s struggling, but always shows up when they are.

Lotus!Reader who… has an anxious attachment style and hates admitting it. Thinking she’s stable and secure. Types long messages when she’s overwhelmed. Gets worried and has the churn in her stomach, like her instinct always tells her something. Paragraphs full of over-explaining and soft apologies. Says “it’s okay, I get it” before you even answer. But when you do reply, she melts immediately. You can get her to the good side again with just a few words. She responds softly. She puts your comfort above hers, even if she’s still aching.

Lotus!Reader who… always says “thank you” instead of “please.” Not because she’s polite, but because she’s scared of sounding like she wants too much. She always tries to find the words that will make her sound; it won’t make her look small. She folds laundry with care. Labels her pantry. Carries tissues in her sleeve. She disappears into herself when she’s hurt and quiet, cardigan pulled tighter, eyes stuck to the floor. She never wants to be a burden. But sometimes, she just wants someone to hold her without having to be asked.

Lotus!Reader who… feels everything deeply and never shows it first. Sometimes she cries on TikTok. Some random thoughts. At nostalgia. She overthinks compliments. She always overthinks everything and gets embarrassed when teased in public. Smiles politely but goes quiet. She receives the ick when people laugh at emotions. It makes her skin crawl. When they say things like “you’re too sensitive.” She won’t argue. But you’ll feel her pull away.

Lotus!Reader who… pulls her sleeves over her hands when she’s overwhelmed, just wants something to touch, like it will control her feelings. Buys new candles when she’s sad. Uses her Notes app like a diary. Makes to-do lists with boxes to check, even for things she’s already done. Hums while she cooks. Packs her bag like she’s always bracing for the worst.

Lotus!Reader who… is the kind of girl who can spend a whole day alone and feel okay. Saying she loves her own alone time. She needs to get used to it. But still aches when no one asks how she’s doing. She doesn’t need attention. She just wants to feel safe.

Lotus!Reader who… loves gently. Soft. Steadily. With a kind of honesty that startles people. The kind that will scare people. Not because she’s dramatic, but because she means it. It’s one of the traits that makes people run away from her. Every time. She doesn’t know how to love halfway. She never has.

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓© 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

[allthenobodypplfics]

I'll Crawl Home to Her (Chapter 1)

Fandom: Bucky Barnes (from the MCU)

Pairing: Soft Dark!Bucky x Female Reader

Rating: Explicit

Words: 4.6k

Summary: You and Bucky are in love, but Bucky comes from the wrong side of town. Your family doesn’t want you two together and they will stop at nothing to tear you two apart. Bucky will stop at nothing to be with you. This is my entry for @saiyanprincessswanie’s Missy’s Writing Challenge. Thanks to @tricksterhidds for beta-reading!

Chosen Prompts: Biker AU, Forbidden Love, “I wish I could just hold you one more time,” and “I will always find my way back to you.”

Warnings: Soft!Bucky becomes Dark!Bucky, angst, fluff, smut (consensual, breast play, fingering, p in v sex, oral f receiving, unprotected sex), violence, killing, descriptions of death (minor character death, temporary character death, Bucky and Reader both survive), bigotry, toxic family, slight horror themes.

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Read on AO3

The sound of rumbling like an oncoming storm echoes around you, but there isn’t a cloud in the sky. The sun shines brightly through the row of trees on either side of the road you ran on. Your chest tightens as you struggle to breathe through your exertion. 

“Where you goin’, baby?” a voice calls out to you as he revs the engine of his bike, the rumbling turns to roaring. 

“I told you to wait for me!” he adds when you didn’t answer him.

You wheeze as you dart to the right and into the woods.

“Hey!” the voice yells over the engine. “Hey, don’t go into the woods! It’s not safe!”

You ignore him as you pump your legs, zipping through the dense trees. You hear the thrum of his bike cut off, followed by the sharp rustling of hurried footsteps through the leaves as he takes off after you. You can hear him gaining on you and you push yourself a little further. Your dress gets caught on a branch and yanks you back. You grunt as you wrench yourself free, the fabric ripping, and you continue to run mindlessly. In your panic, you aren’t able to avoid the root of a tree sticking out and your foot catches right into it, sending you flying into the dirt. A muffled “oof!” escapes your lips as you hit the ground.

“Aw, baby, what did I say?” His voice is right above you, soft with sympathy. “I told you not to go into the woods. You alright?”

You try to crawl away, but he grips your upper arm and pulls you to your feet. You yelp, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He eyes down your figure and pauses at the tear along the hem of your dress. He reaches out to brush the dirt off your outfit, but you take a step back away from him.

He looks at you with a small expression of hurt. 

“Why you runnin’ from me?” he softly asks.

“Bucky, you’re…” you stammer, “what happened to you?”

“What do you mean, baby?” He tilts his head. “I came back to you. Like I promised.”

“You came back… but you came back different. You’re… you’re not the same. You’re not the Bucky I love.”

He clenches his jaw as he steps closer to you. He cups your cheek, rubbing his thumb under your eye, swiping a tear you don’t realize you're shedding. He slides his hand to the back of your head, then down to the back of your neck, and squeezes, not harshly, but firmly. 

“Don’t say that,” he says, his voice was deep and dulcet. “I love you. I came back from the dead for you.”

You knew Bucky forever. You had been children attending the same elementary school – you in first grade and him in fourth. You didn’t pay much attention to him. He just appeared one day, transferred from elsewhere, as a scrappy little kid who always seemed to have some dirt smeared on his face or his tattered clothes. Then you briefly attended the same high school. You still didn’t pay much attention to him, but he gained a bit of a reputation. Gone was the doormat of a kid who let other kids walk all over him, tease him, and shove him around because he came from “the wrong side of town.” Puberty and discontent caused him to grow a backbone and he took shit from nobody, not his peers, or his teachers, or anybody around him. His smart mouth and fast fists had gotten him into trouble time and time again growing up, but he’d never been in a fight he couldn’t win. That earned him enough fear that no one messed with him anymore, but they would still talk about him behind his back. 

Bucky was working at the local mechanic shop long before you started classes at the local university. He repaired the cars of everyone in town who needed his expertise, but looked down on him for where he came from and his lack of formal education. When you graduated and got that little bookkeeping position at the small accountant’s office, Bucky bought the mechanic shop and became its owner, but that still didn’t stop the chatter of the town folk. He mostly kept to himself, but the busybodies continued whispering to each other, “That boy ain’t right.” Especially when they could hear him before they could see him – his roaring bike, his pride and joy, tearing through the road and startling their quaint existence.

It was after your second year of working at the accountant’s office when you finally spoke more than two words to Bucky.

“I’m gonna need you to take my car to the shop, kid,” your older brother said.

“What?” you answered, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Why me?”

“‘Cause the sheriff needs me to take a weekend shift and my car is barely hangin’ on. It can’t wait. I ain’t supposed to be relyin’ on the cruiser to run errands.”

“Why can’t Arvin do it?”

“‘Cause he’s the reason it needs to go to the shop. I ain’t trustin’ him with my car no more.”

“Fine,” you shrugged. It didn’t matter to you one way or the other.

“And don’t let that grease monkey rip you off!”

“Ha!” your younger brother snorted. “Bet he’ll fix the car for free if she’s the one bringin’ it to him. Ain’t no girl in this town givin’ him the time of day.”

“Don’t say that ‘bout your sister, Arvin,” he scolded. “Or I’ll tan your hide.”

“Aw, geez, Dean,” Arvin whined, “was just a joke!”

You drove your brother’s prized Chevy to the local auto shop with a white-knuckled grip. The engine sputtered something crazy, smoke puffed out of its hood, and the front bumper was holding on by mere hopes and dreams. 

“I swear to God, Dean, ya tryin’ to kill me?” you scowled as you pulled up to the empty garage.

You stepped out of the car and looked around. There was a messy workbench at the back of the room, a pristine motorcycle parked off to the side, a couple of helmets on a table, and a black leather jacket draped over a chair.

Suddenly, you hear a drawn-out whistle behind you. You turned to see a man walking towards you, wiping his hand on a rag.

“Well, you sure did a number on that,” he commented.

You froze as you stared at him. James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky. You always knew him to be handsome, but you never really looked at him that closely. You never said a bad word against him or thought a bad thought, but you still brushed him off as someone you didn’t care to know. Taking a real good look at him now, though, he must have been the most handsome man you had ever seen in your entire life. With his golden honeyed skin, the faintest of lines just barely beginning to trace the corner of his eyes, his sleeves rolled up to reveal the strength in his forearms, his dark hair brushed back with a loose curl falling over his forehead, a killer jawline, and full, beautiful lips… Well, he looked like a man you might just give everything up for. 

“Huh?” you dumbly uttered.

Bucky smirked. “You ran over a deer or somethin’?”

“Oh!” You shook yourself out of your stupor. “Oh, no, I mean… I don’t know. I didn’t do this.”

Bucky hummed as he surveyed the damage. He circled the car, popped the hood, and then started rambling about what was broken, what needed to be fixed, what parts he needed to get, and a lot of other technical stuff. You were listening as intently as you could, but you understood nothing.

At the end, Bucky sighed, “It’s gonna be a pretty big job.”

“Well… how much will it be to fix the car?” you asked, biting the corner of your lips.

“For you?” Bucky smirked. “It’s on the house.”

You inhaled through your nose and pressed your lips together, trying to keep your wry amusement from showing as you rolled your eyes. Arvin was right.

“No, thank you,” you replied.

“No, really-”

“It’s not my car,” you interrupted. “I’m not the one payin’ for it; my brother is.”

“Ah…” Bucky chuckled. “In that case, maybe I’ll charge ya double.” 

You snorted and then giggled. You covered your mouth with your hand to conceal your mirth.

“Aw, don’t do that, sweetheart,” Bucky said with a teasing grin. “You have a beautiful smile. It’s a real shame to be hidin’ that.”

Your face felt hot as you immediately blushed. You cleared your throat, then said, “So when will you be done with the repairs?” A hint of a smile still lit up your eyes.

“About four weeks, tops. You’ll come by to pick it up?”

“I don’t think so. My brother will probably be the one who’ll come pick it up… and settle the bill.”

Bucky placed a hand on his chest and pouted, looking absolutely devastated. “You mean, I might never see ya again?”

You shrugged, “I see ya plenty around town.”

“And you never stopped to say ‘hello’?” Bucky pursed his lips and shook his head.

“Now, why would I ever do that?” you laughed. “We don’t even know each other.”

“Well, let’s get to know each other then! C’mon, let me take ya out. We can have milkshakes, you like milkshakes? Bet they’re as sweet as you.”

You scoffed, your lips turned up into a stunned smile at his boldness. 

“Or we can have burgers instead, if you’d like. Whatever you want, baby. We can have both!”

You crossed your arms and looked away, chewing on your cheek, unsure of how to answer.

“C’mon, I don’t wanna never see or speak to ya again.” Bucky’s voice was soft and earnest. 

You stared at his handsome, hopeful face for a few seconds before you relented. “Okay.”

Bucky’s face lit up. “Tonight?”

“Sure, yeah,” you chuckled.

“I’ll come pick you up at six!”

Your face fell. “In your bike?” 

“Well… yeah.” Bucky looked at you with his brows pinched in confusion.

“It’s very loud… and fast…”

“Well… it’s a motorcycle…”

You started to shift your feet, suddenly unsure. 

Realization dawned on his face. “Oh, are ya scared? You don’t have to be scared, you’ll be very safe with me, I promise. I have an extra helmet, and you can wear my leather jacket.”

You glanced at the sleek black material draped over the chair and swayed a bit before smirking and replying, “Well, I do like your jacket.”

Bucky’s nervous look wiped from his face as he grinned again. “You’re gonna look real cute in it.” He paused and then continued, “So I’ll pick you up at six?”

Dean was going to be working late during his weekend shift, Arvin was going to sneak off with a girl he was sweet on, and your father would be working late at his office. There wasn’t a need to be sneaky tonight.

You smiled softly, “Yeah, six.”

You felt nervous butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you got ready for your date with Bucky. You’ve only ever been on two dates before with this one boy in your class back in college, but both dates ended lackluster and neither of you bothered to reach out to one another after the second date. Neither of you were sour about it, though. You’d run into each other around town every so often and would greet each other with a smile, but nothing more. Last you’ve heard, he married Mary Ann.

You heard the rumbling of Bucky’s bike getting closer and you fluffed your hair one last time in front of your bedroom mirror before hurrying down the stairs to the living room. You smoothed down your dress as you stood in the foyer, waiting for his arrival. You instinctively took a step the moment you heard the knock, but stopped and decided to count to ten so as to not seem too eager. 

When you opened the door, you were greeted with a smiling Bucky and a small bouquet of flowers. His smile became a grin as he handed you the flowers.

“Awww, thank you, Bucky,” you gushed as you accepted the flowers, “you didn’t have to.”

“‘Course I did,” he beamed, “can’t forget the flowers for a pretty girl like you. My mother would turn over in her grave.”

Your eyes widened at his admission and he cringed after he realized what he just said.

“Aw, Bucky, I’m sorry-”

“No, no, sweetheart, don’t worry about it,” Bucky quickly stammered. “Hey, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to bring the mood down-”

“Oh, no, you didn’t-”

“Why don’t you put those flowers in some water,” Bucky interrupted, “and we can start over. Forget all this awkwardness.”

You hesitated and then agreed, “Sure. Come in so you’re not waitin’ outside.”

Bucky grimaced self-consciously and nodded as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. 

As you walked to the kitchen, you thought to yourself, “Shoot… where am I gonna put this where my family can’t see?”

“You can put that in your room, if ya like,” Bucky suggested from the living room, almost as if he could hear your thoughts.

“Oh, okay…” you answered as you filled a vase from the sink and dropped the flowers in. Then you slowly made your way upstairs so as to not spill any water. When you got back down to the living room, Bucky was waiting for you patiently with his hands in his pockets. 

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“Yeah!” you answered.

One date turned into two, into three, and soon enough, you found yourself spending all of your free time with Bucky. You would go to his shop during your lunch breaks as well. Your weekends were spent with him. Whenever any of your family members asked you where you were going, you always came up with some lie about meeting with a few girls from work to watch a movie, or have lunch or dinner, or go to the roller skating rink, or whatever. Your father was too busy being the town mayor to question you, but Dean was beginning to get suspicious. Arvin was completely oblivious to what you got up to.

Bucky invited you to attend the annual traveling carnival one day, and you happily accepted. You arrived on the back of Bucky’s bike, wearing his leather jacket.

As you removed and handed Bucky your helmet, you commented, “Maybe I should get one of these of my own, hm?” You gestured to his jacket still wrapping you in its warmth. You could smell faint traces of motor oil and the spiced amber of his cologne, which made you want to shamelessly bury your face in the leather and inhale.

“Uh uh,” Bucky refused, “I like seein’ you in my jacket.”

“Don’t you get cold?” you teased.

“Not with your arms around me, keepin’ me warm.” Bucky grinned and yanked you against his body.

You giggled and gently swatted him in the chest. 

“Well, I wanna show off my new dress,” you stated as you unzipped the jacket and handed it back to him.

He slid the jacket up his arms as he whistled, “And you look real pretty in that dress. You got that for me?”

“Maybe,” you shrugged smugly and started walking towards the cotton candy cart with Bucky following close behind, his eyes on your rear and a heavy smirk on his lips. 

As you and Bucky were lining up for some cotton candy, you noticed someone staring at you from the corner of your eye. You turned and almost choked on your own spit as you spotted Arvin frowning at you.

“Who’s that?” Bucky asked as he met Arvin’s eyes with a glare of his own.

“Ah, shoot,” you thought to yourself. “They noticed each other.”

“Just my little brother, Arvin,” you replied, smiling wildly to hide your panic. 

Bucky’s face relaxed as he asked, “The one that crashed your older brother’s car?”

Bucky smiled and did a little wave and nod combo at Arvin. Arvin looked confused as he stiffly raised one hand in an awkward greeting. 

“Yup, that’s him,” you laughed nervously. “I’m just gonna say a quick ‘hello,’ I’ll be right back.”

You gave Bucky’s pec a little pat and then power-walked towards Arvin. 

When you got closer to him, he hissed, “Are ya seein’ Bucky?”

“Shhh!” you hissed back. “Yes, but shut up!”

“I’m tellin’ pa.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“That boy ain’t right!”

“Oh, shut up! There’s absolutely nothing wrong with him! Listen, Arvin, you don’t tell Dean or daddy about Bucky, and I won’t tell Dean you took his newly fixed car for a joyride the other night.”

Arvin squinted at you. “How you know about that?”

“I know things. Now you keep that in mind in case you ever think about squealin’.”

You didn’t bother to stick around for Arvin’s response, knowing he would keep his mouth shut with such a threat dangling over his head. 

“Shit, knew sendin’ her to his shop was a bad idea…” Arvin muttered to himself.

You ignored him as you practically skipped back into Bucky’s arms, almost knocking the huge puff of pink cotton candy out of his hand when you bumped into him. 

Arvin kept his word and neither Dean nor your father knew a thing about you and Bucky. You continued to see Bucky any chance you got, and Arvin always silently scowled when you went off with whatever excuse you could come up with. Dean assumed you met a boy, but didn’t know which boy. He would make passive comments about marriage and waiting, and you would just look at Dean with a sweet and oblivious, but obviously fake, expression. Dean would sigh and mention protecting yourself and not to get into any trouble. Your father didn’t know a thing and both brothers weren’t telling him.

One day, Bucky asked you, “You wanna go to the drive-in?”

“The drive-in? But you only gotta bike.”

“Ah, they’ve got bleachers near the back by the concessions. Even better, closer to the snacks.” Bucky gave you a wink.

You giggled and enthusiastically accepted his invitation. 

Bucky picked you up on time, another bouquet of flowers in hand. Arvin was home this time to see you fawn all over Bucky. He pretended to be busy with whatever he was doing in the kitchen while darting his side-eying eyes between you filling a vase with water and Bucky politely waiting in the living room. You noticed Arvin’s glowering and you mouthed to him, “Don’t be rude,” as you walked upstairs to put away the flowers in your room.

Arvin scoffed and continued to pretend he was busy.

“Arvin, right?”

Arvin jumped and turned to see Bucky casually leaning on the kitchen door frame. 

“Yeah, that’s me,” Arvin replied apprehensively.

“I’m Bucky.” He reached over to offer his hand. “Think I saw you at the carnival a couple of weeks ago, but we never met.”

“No, sir, we did not,” Arvin said as he shook Bucky’s hand a little too firmly, as if he might have been trying to prove something.

“Bucky?” you called from the living room. “I’m ready!”

Bucky chuckled, “See ya around, Arvin.”

Arvin mumbled under his breath, “Much rather not.”

Bucky pretended not to hear him as he smiled at you and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. 

“Let’s go, baby,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

Most audience members going to the drive-in would go there with a car so when Bucky parked his bike off to the side of the bleachers, it was empty. You and Bucky had the outdoor seating all to yourselves. 

As you two went off to line up at the concessions, you overheard some giggling and whispering. You turned to see a small group of girls sneering at you as they whispered to each other, snorted, and then began laughing. 

“What would you like, baby?” Bucky’s voice drew your attention back to him and you realized you had made it to the front of the line.

“Huh?”

“We’ve gotta large popcorn and a large soda to share, is there anythin’ else you’d like?”

“Oh, no,” you quickly answered, a bit embarrassed that you got distracted. “That’s more than enough.”

“Aw, nothin’ is too much for you,” Bucky beamed, rubbing the small of your back. “How about a box of those Junior Mints? You like those.”

“Sure, thanks, Bucky.” You smiled up at him.

“Anythin’ for my girl.”

You blushed at his words and ducked your head down bashfully.

You made your way to the bleachers with your snacks in hand and took a seat somewhere near the middle bench to peer over all of the cars. He placed his fingertips on your chin and turned your head to face him. Grinning, he gave you a chaste kiss and then turned back to the movie screen. You smiled goofily as you also turned back, but then your face dropped as you noticed a few pairs of eyes on you from the cars ahead of you. Some people were a bit more subtle and watched you from the rearview mirror. Others were bolder and actually turned around to look at you before turning back and saying something to each other in the car, then laughing. You started to feel self-conscious and shifted in your seat.

As if Bucky could feel your anxiousness, he asked, “What’s the matter, baby?”

“Hm? Oh, it’s nothing,” you answered. Quickly changing the subject, you added, “How’s the popcorn?”

“Could use a little more butter,” he smirked as he popped a few kernels into his mouth.

You ate one and then snorted, “Oh, there’s plenty of butter!”

Bucky chuckled as he draped his leather jacket over your shoulders, the evening air starting to get a little chilly. 

Throughout the movie, Bucky kept his arm wrapped around your shoulders, occasionally feeding you popcorn with a playful smile. Every so often, you could see someone glance in your direction and it was making you antsy enough that you couldn’t pay attention to the movie. You were glad when the movie finally ended because all you wanted was to leave and be alone with Bucky. However, he had other plans and decided to take you to the local ice cream parlor.

“Wait here for me, baby,” Bucky suggested as he sat you down in a booth, “and I’ll go order. What flavor you want?”

“Cherry vanilla,” you declared.

Bucky smirked, “Cherry vanilla, it is.”

A few seconds after Bucky stepped away, a girl came up and took the seat across from you. You straightened and blinked at her. You recognized her.

“So you’re takin’ your turn with Bucky too, now, huh?” she snickered as she placed an elbow on the table and leaned her chin against her fist. 

You narrowed your eyes at her and folded your hands on the table. “I don’t know what you mean, Mary Ann.”

“Aw, there ain’t a need to get all defensive. Plenty of girls had their ‘Bucky phase,’ as we like to call it. You’re gonna have a lot of fun with him.” She winked.

You scowled, “I don’t wanna talk about this.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about a thing.” She waved you off. “Us girls have to stick together. We won’t say a word to nobody. Just remember, he’s only good for a nice time, not a lifetime. He ain’t the type any lady with any sense would marry. That boy, he’s sweet, but… there’s just somethin’ about him that ain’t right. Not marriage material.”

You glowered at her as she condescendingly patted your hand and walked away. You heard of the rumor that was amongst the young ladies of this town, but you didn’t think it was true until Mary Ann confirmed it. Some girls would spend time with Bucky but he ever remained their dirty little secret. They’d have their fun with him privately as they then pretended not to know him and continued to deride him publicly, just like the rest of the town folk. In the end, the girl would find a “respectable” man to marry.

Bucky was walking back with an ice cream cone in each hand. He glanced at Mary Ann with a bit of confusion stitching at his brows, but she didn’t acknowledge him as she arrogantly brushed past him. He shrugged and continued towards you with a bright smile dancing on his lips. 

“Here,” Bucky said, cheery, as he handed you a cone, “a sweet treat for my sweetheart.”

Your smile was a little tight as you took the cone and thanked him.

Bucky’s face fell. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Mm-mm, it’s nothin’,” you lied as you shook your head and took a lick of the ice cream. “It’s just Mary Ann. She was being a cluckin’ hen.”

“A cluckin’ hen, huh?” Bucky said, with his mouth slightly full of ice cream. “What she say to you?”

“Nothin’ important,” you reassured him with more lies. “You wanna try some of mine?” You brought your ice cream cone closer to his lips. He grinned as he took a taste and offered some of his ice cream to you as well.

Days later, you and Bucky were sitting on his porch and enjoying each other’s company, laughing and joking, and talking about anything in the world. When the conversation naturally lulled into silence with his arms around you, you finally worked up the nerve to ask him the question that had been bugging you ever since the drive-in.

“When you give me flowers,” you softly said, voice laced with uncertainty, “and you tell me that it’s okay to put them in my room, you knew that I didn’t want my family to know about us, didn’t you?”

Bucky’s cheeks ticked as he clenched and then relaxed his jaw. You could see his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

“Mary Ann told ya somethin’, didn’t she?” Bucky said. His voice was low and almost conspiratorial, with a crooked smile on his lips to hide his unease. 

After a pause, you replied, “Mary Ann said that a lot of girls in town had a ‘Bucky phase’ and that you were good for a fun time…”

Bucky scowled, “And not much else, huh?”

When you didn’t answer, he spat, “Cluckin’ hen.” He looked briefly panicked before he added, “Not you.”

You glanced down, but then continued, “There’s a rumor them girls like to whisper about you, that you had to be kept a secret. Is that… is that something they wanted, or you wanted?”

Bucky looked ever so slightly hurt before he answered, “It was what they wanted.”

You nodded but didn’t say anything else, still looking down at your feet.

“Baby,” Bucky sighed, “look at me.”

You looked at him a bit sheepishly. 

“I like you. I love you,” Bucky stated. “And I don’t ever want us to be a secret. I’d like to marry you one day. But if the only way you’d be with me is if no one else can know… then I’ll be your secret. I just wanna be with you… for however long you’d have me.”

Your eyes filled with tears as you whispered, “You love me?”

“With my whole heart.” Bucky pulled you a little closer and leaned his forehead against yours.

“I love you too…” You wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed your lips against his. He could taste the salt in your tears as he kissed you back, pulling you even closer until you were flushed against him.

Neither of you acknowledged the fact that you didn’t say whether or not you would tell your family about him.

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Read on AO3

[tarithenurse]

Any future

Fandom: MCU Pairing/starring: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader Word count: 974 Content: Friends to lovers, mention of injury, guilt, pining, physical pain. A/N: Found Missy’s Writing Challenge and thought it could be helpful in revitalizing my desire to write fanfics. Thanks for making a great challenge, @saiyanprincessswanie . I went with the prompt: “I look at the future and all I see is you.”

Any future

You’ve worked with them for more than a year now, the Avengers.

You had been starstruck in the beginning but that had quickly faded as reality crashed into your idyllic world: working with heroes, seeing the backside of the medal was not pretty: people got hurt, some died if you didn’t do your job right...nothing could take that pain away and once you’d been close to throwing the towel in the ring and walking away from it all. It was only because of your teammates that you hadn’t quit.

You tried to keep them happy too, tried to pick them up on their rough days...but there’s always one who seem to be harder to cheer up than the rest: Bucky. He walks with a perpetual rain cloud over his head, barely cracking a smile to his friends Steve or Sam.

Your heart aches for him.

He, more than anyone else, has a lot to atone for and despite intensive support from the team and therapy too...nothing seems to work. You know he avoids the public, abstains from reading the newspapers or checking the internet because more often than not, there will be someone questioning his intent. If he is good. If he really still is the Winter Soldier.

You’ve tried talking with him too. He’s friendly. Hell, it even seems like he enjoys your company as much as he can so you grab every chance you have to cheer him up. Make him feel loved. Because you do...you love him. It’s not just the sympathy talking or a motherly desire to coddle him. You love his intellect, his quiet thoughtfulness.

More than once you’ve gotten him a book with crosswords or Sudoku puzzles only to find engrossed in it for the following days. Or we would silently join you when you watched movies especially fantasy like Lord of the Rings or the Princess Bride (that one did make him crack a smile more than once). He reads a lot, trying, as Sam says, to finish the so called “list” which on the other hand is ever growing partially because you add to it.

But in spite of your efforts and Bucky’s quiet acceptance of your presence in his life...he’s a mystery. Impossible to read.

---

It had been a tough mission and you hadn’t gotten away unscathed: a broken leg. You try to follow the orders of the doctors but even with the most impressive technology at the doctor’s hands there are some things that only time can fix and so you’re grounded, forced to stay home from the next mission.

You hadn’t seen the fellow Avengers off that morning, deciding instead to stay in bed and pout. But eventually it becomes too boring and your leg is aching too much: you need a distraction.

Grabbing the crutches, you imp your way to the kitchen in your sleepwear, knowing you’re home alone with Friday and it wouldn’t care even if you were naked. Sleepmuzzed hair, booty short, tank-top.

You get as far as getting the mug out of the cabinet before you lose grip on the crutch and it falls to the ground with a clatter and stubbing your toe on your good foot.

“Fuck!” you growl.

“I’ll get it,” a baritone voice behind you offers, causing you to scream in fear because that it not Friday.

Spinning around, you lose your balance as you become tangled with the crutches. You’d have fallen hard if it wasn’t for the owner of the voice catching you.

Bucky.

He’s strong, effortlessly putting you back on your foot but not letting go as you cling to him. He smells of metal and something spicy, you realize now that you’re so close to him.

“You’re home?” you deduce brainlessly.

He smiles softly. “Didn’t feel right to leave you behind in your state. Seems I was right.”

“Guess you’re good at reading the future.”

Something shifts in his eyes that you can’t explain but it’s gone just as quickly. “You okay?”

Suddenly aware of the proximity, you stabilize yourself on your good leg and pull apart. “Yeah...just...clumsy like this.”

“Then allow me?”

You nod, assuming he’d get the crutches for you. Instead, he lifts you effortlessly and carry you over to the couch where he settle you down. On his way back to the kitchen, he calls over his shoulder:

“You take it with milk, right?”

Baffled that he knows your coffee preferences, you agree.

Moments later he’s sharing the couch with you, each nursing a cup of coffee and with a plate of buttered scones on the coffee table.

“You’re wrong, by the way,” he suddenly says, breaking the cozy silence.

“In what?”

He isn’t looking at you, but studying the blackness of his coffee. “About me and the future. I’m terrible at it...or you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

“Are you...are you blaming yourself for that?” you ask, shocked.

He really shouldn’t be. Those sort of things happen and he wasn’t even close by where you got pinned: an explosive had been triggered by the Hydra agents and the debris had caught you.

“James?”

He still won’t meet your eyes. Just shrugs.

You put your cup down, starting to be more annoyed than confused. “James Buchanan Barnes. Look at me.”

Finally, though slowly, he does as you demand and you are overwhelmed by the sea of emotions that meet you.

“Talk to me...please...” you whisper.

“I look at the future and all I see is you,” he manages to press out, “it used to be...nothing. Greyness. Now there’s light.”

You reach for him and he puts down his cup before carefully crawling over to straddle you. It hurts your leg, but it’s worth it when you can press your forehead against his. And by the time he tilts your chin up and kisses you slowly, nothing else matters.

[the-voice-beckons-below]

the last prayer

bucky barnes x deity reader (he/him, third person)

this is my entry for @elixirfromthestars ‘s cinema writing contest! it’s probably quite an out there prompt but i hope you enjoy nonetheless!! (dialogue prompt used: “it’s okay, i’ve got you now”)

synopsis: a decade has passed since the initial capture of james ‘bucky’ barnes, who after so long is finally running out of time to save his humanity. which is why for some reason he makes the absurd choice to pray, and unbeknownst to him, wakes something dark and ancient.

warnings: torture, violence, hints to murder, angst (it’s bucky, very expected). it’s not super religious, reader is like a god the way loki or thor is buttt there’s a few more mechanics to it involving worship and dormancy.

wordcount: 3,045

there is no god.

not within hydra’s snare, not within the depths of torture and brainwashing that has now spanned across years.

hope has long since been abandoned, if there is a hell, this is it, there is surely nowhere worse than this.

so bucky doesn’t know why in the heat of it all, while clutching at the tethers he’s been desperately hanging onto, the fragments of who he was - is, where they try to pull him apart once more, that he suddenly decides to hopelessly pray.

he does it silently in his head, viewing himself opaquely from behind a looking glass as they beckon him to become a machine. it is clear that soon, he will be buried within his own body, that something mechanical will take over to do terrible, terrible things. bucky knows by now that there is no light at the end of this tunnel, only blood, only death, caused by hands that are somehow attached to him.

he isn’t ready for when they finally break him.

there is no answer, the assumption can only be correct as they strap him down tighter into that blasted chair and try to forcibly fry his mind. electricity fizzles and crackles all throughout his head, it will forever burn, even when he’s not in the chair he feels it, a phantom pressure seeping beyond his socket, that is hard to discern if it’s real or false.

the harsh truth echoes all around him, reverberates in his bones.

no one is coming to save bucky barnes.

well, bucky barnes died falling from that train, he died the second hydra sunk their claws in. he is continuously dying as they slowly dissect whatever is left, they are in real time, attempting to convert him into an object, into a machine without autonomy or control.

they are trying to take away what is innately human. his thoughts, his feelings, they will be scrapped and forged into programming, orders and targets.

so yes, it is very obvious by now that no one is coming to rescue him from this.

what he isn’t aware of, is how wrong he actually is. this time bucky has not been ignored, something has noticed the anguish plaguing him, and it listens with rapt attention. it hangs achingly on every word, every cry, that echoes from him.

it is heard by a previously dormant god stirring awake from the depths, for the very first time in centuries. he wakes up nestled between dusty and crumpled ruins, what might’ve been an altar in his name, there are no scriptures or scrolls, it seems that he has been forgotten until now. a deity who slumbered without a single follower or believer for an untold amount of years, suddenly awoken by the most desperate and profoundly broken plea he’d ever heard.

there is barely time to look around, for the environment to sink in. why had his final resting place been here? why was he forgotten? who was his last devotee? a million questions flood his long, awaiting, buzzing body. a fizzle creeps inside his gut the longer he waits, the more he lingers and doesn’t attend to that sharp, hopeless call.

the god doesn’t falter, he brushes any tiredness away, this is his first follower in a long time, and they need him.

the scene that greets him does not aid his protectiveness, it only trebles it. it is no wonder the call had seemed wrenching, what is being done is unfathomable, a contraption which from just one look seems sickening. restraining a man, holding him so tightly in place, and the thing lodged against the eye is horrific.

whatever the plate attached to the right side of the face is, it’s certainly alive, spitting live sparks and light straight against skin. the person in the chair is biting down so hard that he’s surprised the other’s teeth aren’t cracking under the fierce pressure of their jaw locking. despite his caller’s mouth being firmly shut, the screams pouring out are barely muffled, they’re guttural, raw, and they make the god’s stomach twist even more.

it is nothing like he has ever seen before, and he has seen countless of lives, of mortals, their squabbles and war, their arguments and their loves. this surely cannot be the doing of humankind, it is too cruel, how can someone mutilate another in such a way?

but his eyes are not deceiving, there are humans in white coats roaming all around, ignoring the one so obviously in excruciating pain. they are used to it, that realisation alone makes his blood boil.

he cannot withstand it a moment longer, any previous silent acknowledgement to not meddle with mortals unwinds far from him. it doesn’t matter anymore, there is no religion in his name, it is just him and this one small devotee, soaked in pain and suffering.

so when he finally steps out of the shadows, now visible to the human eye, he doesn’t bother with politeness or pleasantries, those were already revoked at this point. there is no forgiveness, gentleness or compassion in the way he squanders the crowd surrounding the caller. it is a mess of screams, thick black clouds swamp the room, none of what occurs can be seen, but it undoubtedly violent, twisted, and permanent.

he just hopes if the soldier in the chair was watching, the smoke obscured it enough. to the god’s horror, the machine is still on, whirring and humming hauntingly. he doesn’t know what it is, what it does, but he strides towards it with panic anyway, and frantically rips it all off, searching for injury with furrowed brows.

“it’s okay, i’ve got you now.” he means it, this stranger is just that, a stranger, someone he does not know, yet the urge to take care of the other is overwhelming. “can you speak? what is your name?”

the voice that answers him is gravelly, spoken by a spent and tired man, “m’bucky, my name, it’s…it’s bucky.”

it is clear that bucky is delirious, stuck in a heady haze from whatever just occurred, because it takes him a few seconds to register the mass of people are gone, that the thing speaking to him isn’t human, that he’s being touched by someone who might once again hurt him. it isn’t a surprise that he flinches, and then tries to scramble away, it’s like his entire body gets dunked in total fear.

the god moves back immediately, unable to help the frown overcoming his face, the last thing he wanted was to scare this bucky. thinking quickly, he changes tactics and crouches lower to the ground, akin to approaching a spooked animal, his hulking body looks awkward with trying to appear small. “you called for me. i will not hurt you.”

bucky’s steel eyes flash with confusion, then uncertainty, then anger. “that’s not funny. i don’t know who you are, but just get it over with, don’t fucking play with me.”

a part of him wants to huff, to scowl at the way a mortal is talking to him, but he can’t really find it within himself to care enough about it. this human is unique, an enigma that doesn’t even know itself. instead of frustration, he sinks deeper into patience for this new follower.

slowly, he reaches towards the soldier, watching carefully for any jerky movements or instinctual reactions, when all he finds is wary glances at his hand, he continues, softly pressing the pads of his fingers against bucky’s ear that is lightly bleeding. it is miraculous what gods can do, how much magic they have within just their very fingertips, in the next moment, the trickle of blood is gone.

it looks like there was no injury to begin with. he repeats the action around the man’s head, and even around the shoulder which is deeply scarred and yet seemingly still deeply painful and sore. after the deity is done, he leans back, intently watching bucky’s face.

his brows are furrowed, lips parted, he appears to be a breath away from an argument or accusation. his muscles are pulled taut, ineffably tense, the metal of his left arm creaks. “you’re fucking kidding me. there is a god…and it took you this long?” it comes out flat and the laugh that leaves bucky is humourless, a bark that’s full of venom.

he doesn’t know what to say, there isn’t much to be said. despite the words spoken, there is not just hatred in bucky’s eyes, there’s also relief, but it seems neatly tucked away behind anger. “there’s multiple actually,” he awkwardly stops that sentence at the look on bucky’s face, half disbelieving and the other half pissed off. “i’ve just been dormant.”

the man borders on a scowl, “what do you mean dormant?” there seems to be more movement in his body now, enough so that he squirms to get out the chair, but immediately falls to his knees when he does, the deity is there to catch him, keeping him relatively upright. bucky huffs at the touch, his body still a little slack, the god shudders from the heat radiating off the human and pulls back enough to give him space. its been a long time since he's felt any warmth.

“i haven’t had anyone pray to me for a long time. so, i was dormant, asleep, unable to wake up until someone woke me. you did.” it's a clipped admission, like he is covering up how raw the reality actually is.

there’s a pause, a breath of confusion, “i did?”

he nods back to bucky, “you did." he then hesitantly adds, "i am sorry that i couldn’t come sooner.” there is a guilt that claws at his chest, bubbling up straight to his throat, where he is unable to swallow, “but i’m here now, and no one will hurt you, not while i’m here.”

he guides bucky far away from the chair, and then uses his magic to take them somewhere even farther, absent from the effects of time and humanity. it is extremely void-like, an ocean of ink that spans an unfathomable distance, yet it is not cold. more than anything it is comfortable, peaceful, if you focus hard enough you can hear the distant tweets of birds or the hustle and bustle of brooklyn.

atleast that’s what bucky hears, it’s a place designed to be safe, reminiscent of home. “why save me? could’ve just left me there.”

“i wouldn’t have.” its the truth, “and you needed me. you called for me.”

“i still don’t get it.” he scowls, but it holds almost no malice, he stares up at the god, eyes searching for something, for a hint of betrayal or bad intentions.

the skepticism finally washes off bucky’s face, whatever he’s looking for, he doesn’t find it, he is probably too tired to keep his guard up, he’s been doing that for years. this place has the sounds of brooklyn, when he closes his eyes, he swears he can hear his ma’s voice, gentle, coaxing in his ears to rest. he’s been solely burning on reserves that haven’t existed, fighting against a force that was bound to always beat him, until a god decided to fight in his corner, which is still incredibly hard to wrap his muddled head around.

“you should rest.” the god speaks again, gaze flickering to bucky with an emotion the soldier can’t decipher. he settles down on his knees, huge body furling against the ground, and he watches bucky absentmindedly.

there is still that strange expression coated on the god’s face, almost like the start of a goodbye, close to fond and sad.

“where do i slee-“ before bucky can even finish, there is a bed conjured right in front of him, obscenely big compared to the cramped bed he used to sleep in, the apartment in brooklyn he shared with steve, with chipped walls and its slightly stale air. this bed would cost a fortune, he feels odd even stepping towards it. the question of how it appeared lingers on his tongue, but he’s too exhausted to question it, a god is right next to him, he doesn’t have the capacity to think about what a god can’t do. “oh.”

he still hesitates to clamber into it’s mountainous duvet and circle of fluffy pillows. even though the deity healed parts of him, there is still an awful ache that weighs him down, it’s like any sort of pain is clinging to him, whether it’s imaginary or not. subconsciously it feels like a trick, it can’t be safe can it? he’s not safe from hydra anywhere, they will always find him, he is just property-

“rest.” the god repeats, firmly, but almost faltering. “you’re not needed yet, i’ll wake you up when it’s time.”

“hey now-“

bucky doesn’t even have time to question that sentence, the moment his body sags onto the bed, it feels like coming home. there are inklings of steve, his ma, his siblings, brooklyn, everywhere and everyone he has ever loved, he hears them faintly, he smells them distantly. it is enough to lull him to sleep almost instantaneously, so even though he wanted to narrow his eyes and demand what that statement meant, he cannot. his mouth fills with cotton, his body weights what feels like tonnes, he is warm, he feels safe.

his eyes droop as he melts into the duvet, it is warm, comfortable, such a contrast compared to the agonising frost of cryo. there is a semblance of peace that nestles into his worn bones, it’s the first time in a long time that he can breathe, exist, without an abnormal amount of pain. in this odd bed, in an incomprehensible realm, bucky slips into a soft slumber.

bucky barnes has a larger purpose, he cannot just go back to brooklyn, he is needed, decades in the future. he will wake up to find his best friend was presumed dead and yet was somehow found, buried in a block of ice. somehow him and steve will have survived, and they will find each other again. both of their families will be mostly long gone, as well as everyone they ever knew, but they will have each other.

and bucky barnes will have avoided the reality where he got moulded into a killing machine, ruined beyond comprehension that he forgot who he was entirely. there is still a lot of work to do in this version, the man is still traumatised, may forever be wounded by what was done to him, and there is no guarantee in the future that hydra won’t get him again and finish the job, but atleast for now, he is alright. he is asleep.

the god will watch over, and will also be alone for around 60 years. no one will pray to him, he is quite sure of it, whatever happened with bucky was purely accidental, but he is glad it happened. his larger purpose is making sure bucky gets where he’s needed, and then after that? well, it will likely be dormancy, and this time, permanently. it is something he’ll need to make peace with, not now, but eventually.

after a few years, he momentarily departs from bucky, triple checking that the man is still comfortable and sleeping, and then heads to where he woke up.

it is still abandoned, desolate, it is in all, a sad sight. he meticulously checks everything, each compartment and nook is empty, ransacked. his gut twists with the realisation that they removed him from history, there isn’t a singular scroll or scripture. there is an urge to cry that wells within his chest, he has officially failed in his godhood, but it is fine, it has to be fine.

it may be hours or days that he spends wallowing in those ruins, raking over it what feels like a million times, committing the pathetic structure into memory, as if it might change for the better, or maybe because he won’t see it again. he has no plans to depart from bucky once more, there is no one else to visit, so he leans down, right next to the barren altar and presses a featherlight kiss to the cracked, carved stone. it is a goodbye for all those he failed, and all those who once followed him.

when he returns, bucky is still sleeping, but he has fidgeted with his metal arm, it glints and gleams, rippling with a hypnotising light. it is still strange to see, he doesn’t know whether to scorn it or admire it on the man knowing the way it got there must’ve been from a deep tragedy. there is a big chance he will never get the opportunity to ask how he got it, and a small pit of sadness swells within him.

despite it all, bucky is a vision, face messily framed by a brown mane, long eyelashes, slightly parted lips and his scratchy stubble. the scars on him are far from grotesque, they paint a picture so vivid he is unsure if he can look away. this man has survived, and in the future some day he will live again.

in all of his years existing as a deity, watching and observing lives but never living one himself, he lets himself yearn, for just one singular moment. what would it had been like? to chase fulfilment? perhaps love? it sounds odd, but the most emotion he’s ever felt is now, in the presence of being forgotten, but also protecting bucky. a part of him desires to inch closer to the man, to cradle him, or even weave his hand through that brown hair. he wishes to provide comfort for someone who’s been deprived of it for so long, but he sits perfectly still, and watches, just like he’s always done.

he has never been quite so attached to a singular mortal before. it could be because it’s the last one he might ever see, but that’s already false. there is something undeniably magnetising about this man, so, he finds himself quite lucky to be the one to watch over him for the next few decades.

it is a privilege to guard bucky barnes, he concludes.

divider creds: @strangergraphics-archive

author's notes (it turned into a huge rant be warned): if im entirely honest its been hard to write what ive wanted to write recently, partly because i felt obligated to cater to a wider audience. i put a lot of pressure on myself because i thought people wouldn't really read if i wrote a reader that was trans or used he/him. i am trying to get out of that mindset, and attempting to write whatever id like to, i think its just the people pleasing side of me being a little too incessant. this however was a step to writing what i wanted, and for that reason im really happy with it.

this is turning into an author’s ramble, if you’re curious on what happens to the god/what the god looks like in my mind, here’s the answer: some of the canon mcu events still did happen, the initial plan for the god was to watch over bucky for around 60 years, but bucky may have been needed by fate sooner. in any case, no matter when bucky wakes up, the god is expecting to go dormant, except i like to think that bucky doesn’t necessarily worship this god, but definitely remembers him, thinks of him in hard times, and in doing so the god stays alive, and dutifully (and excitedly) watches bucky’s life. he very predictably falls in love with bucky, but never takes action. the next time these two actually see each other would be after thanos’ snap, and when bucky blips, he ends up in the god’s realm. i imagine this time that bucky would refuse to sleep, insisting on knowing what’s going on in the world while he technically doesn’t exist anymore.

it would be such an interesting dynamic imo, bucky reuniting with this old god that saved him, knowing that he’s actually not forever dead because otherwise he’d be somewhere different, so he knows sometime in the future the avengers figure out how to undo the snap, and in the meantime he sets it as his goal to befriend this giant god who he only briefly got to speak to in what feels like a past life. i think by the end of it, when bucky gets snapped back, the god promises to visit bucky properly, because after five years of talking and keeping each other company, they’re quite close. this deity loves bucky fiercely, and bucky is probably a little taken aback when he realises, but eventually tries to show reciprocation.

can you imagine the faces of the avengers when one day this GIANT humanoid thing is walking behind bucky like a scary dog and they’re like tf is that??? are we just going to ignore that eldritch being hello???

that brings me to what i picture this god to look like personally, everyone’s interpretations upon reading will be different which i love!! i see him as huge in height, potentially multiple arms, shadow-like in the sense he’s pure black, his skin almost looks like a void, im imagining white eyes (perhaps multiple), and he’s both sharp and soft.

one last thing, i’d like to thank my one mootie for giving me the motivation to start writing more, you know who you are beloved!! (not tagging because i’m not sure if a he/him reader is your cup of tea but i wanted to do an end credits dedication to you mwah mwah 💕!!)

i said one last thing but i lied, im hoping i can maybe do one more entry for this challenge, it’s a great motivator and the prompts are simply amazing!! thank you so much EVERYONE who reads this at any point in time, it means the world to me <3

also song that helped to keep inspiring the fic was “about you” by the 1975

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Peony - Steven Grant x Reader

Peony (Paeonia) - Shame, bashfulness

Summary: A slight comedy of errors forces reader and Steven to admit and act on some spicy feelings.

Pairing: Steven Grant x F!Reader

Word Count: 1790

Warnings: Reader is AFAB/Female presenting/has breasts, Steven being adorably embarrassed and awkward, use of "tits", male masturbation (non-explicitly described), excessive euphemisms for masturbation, discussions of masturbation, lots of kissing, making out

Day 10 coming in with some more spice! I love the Moon Boys and thought I'd give Steven a chance to ramble his way into our hearts.

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, Comments, Reblogs are always appreciated! ❤️

You were scrambling to clean your flat as you waited for Steven — he was coming over to watch ‘The Mummy’ which, surprisingly, he had never seen. After your shift, you’d come home with the full intention of cleaning but had fallen asleep on your couch instead, only having woken up five minutes ago when he called to ask what you liked on your pizza. Your heart fluttered at his thoughtfulness as you gathered all the dirty clothes on your bedroom floor and chucked them into the closet. You’d gotten rid of the lingering trash on your coffee table, taken care of the dishes in the sink, and spot-cleaned your bathroom. 

Nothing like the panic-induced cleaning of a woman whose work-friend-turned-crush is on his way over. 

Looking down at your outfit, you realized you were still in your work attire — pencil skirt and fancy-ish blouse, both now wrinkled from your nap. You stripped off your blouse and bra and were halfway off with your skirt when you heard something ‘slap’ against the floor behind you. 

Without thinking, you spun around and saw Steven in the doorway, mouth agape and a pizza box at his feet. It happened so fast — you seeing him, his eyes glancing at your bare tits, back to your face, and his hasty retreat with a steady stream of ‘I’m sorrys” falling out of his mouth. 

“Wait, Steven!” you shouted after him, grabbing your discarded blouse and trying to chase after him, but he was already gone. You sighed heavily against the door to your flat, tapping your forehead against it.

Part of you was horrified — Steven had just seen you half-naked and not in the sexy way — while the other part of you was excited. Steven had seen you half-naked! Perhaps now he would make a move or, barring that, let you know he liked you as much as you liked him.

But that’s not what happened. The next day you saw him at work, you waved but he grabbed the phone, fumbling it and pretending to be in the middle of a call. 

When you were on your break, you headed toward the gift shop but just as you got there, you caught sight of Steven dashing around the corner with a box full of stuffed Basts. 

By the time your shift was over, you’d had enough. You strode up to the gift shop counter, trapping him behind it. He had the temerity to look scared of you, so you softened your approach and spoke quietly so none of the people milling about would hear you.

“Look, Steven, you saw my tits, big whoop,” you said, “I’m not mad at you or anything, there’s no need to avoid me. We’re still friends, yeah?” 

He ran a hand through his thick curls and sighed. “‘M sorry, course we’re still friends. I just…I wasn’t expecting…those when I walked in.” He gestured to your chest and you laughed.

You playfully punched him in the shoulder, “Well, I hope you learned a lesson about knocking next time. And, hey, thanks for the pizza.” 

He laughed and the tension between you evaporated. It had always been like that with Steven - easy going, honest, like nothing was too complicated that you couldn’t laugh your way out of. 

“You still haven’t seen The Mummy and we need to remedy that as soon as possible,” you said semi-seriously. 

“Tell ya what,” he said, “Why don’t you come to mine tonight and we’ll watch it. You bring the pizza this time.” 

“It’s a da- plan.” You stopped yourself before you could say ‘date.’ 

_____

In your excitement for the evening’s activities, you ended up being about ten minutes early to Steven’s flat. He’d texted you his front door code and said he’d leave his door open since you’d be coming with your hands full. Half-jokingly, you knocked softly on the door before letting yourself in. 

Steven’s flat was unlike yours in that it was one big room divided by his overstuffed bookshelves and piles of even more books. The only room with a door was the bathroom, and that was little more than a curtain. You were surprised you didn’t immediately see him, but you heard a grunt coming from the bedroom area. 

You put the pizza on the kitchen table then made your way toward the noise. 

When you got closer, you saw Steven was facing away from you on the far side of his bed. He looked to be stroking something in his lap—oh. 

Oh.

You didn’t manage to silence your gasp when you realized what he was doing, and he jumped up in shock, yanking his gray sweatpants up so you didn’t see anything. 

“Shit!” 

“Oh, God, sorry!” you said, covering your eyes. In your haste to turn away, you managed to smack your elbow into the corner of one of his bookshelves. Pain shot down your forearm because of course you’d managed to hit your funny bone. You gripped it, hissing at the pain with your eyes closed and tripping over one of the book piles and ending up splayed out on the floor.

Steven cried your name and dashed over, helping you sit up and checking you for injuries. He helped you stand up, making sure you were steady before taking a step back. 

“I didn’t see anything,” you insisted, crouching down to help him pick up the books you knocked over. 

“You don’t have to-” 

“I knocked, I swear!” 

“Please, don’t worry-” 

“I’m so sorry, Steven,” you said, looking up from the small stack of books you’d balanced on your knees. His brow was furrowed, cheeks red with embarrassment. 

“No, love, I’m sorry. I knew you were on your way but I couldn’t help myself. Not like it’s an ongoing issue, like compulsive or anything, but I couldn’t help but remember yesterday and, well,” he paused, gesturing toward your chest again, “and I didn’t want to greet you at the door with a raging hard-on so I thought I’d just, y’know, take care of it real quick but then you walked in and now I’m…rambling. Here, I’ll take those.” 

He reached for the books you were holding and you handed them off. He set them on a different stack a few steps away and rubbed the back of his head, facing away from you again. 

“Wait,” you said, brain finally catching up with what he was saying, “You…you were thinking about me? While you were…shining your statue?”

Steven let out a bark of nervous laughter, “Shining my statue?”

“Yeah, you know, shining the statue, flogging the dolphin, spanking the monkey, playing with the one-eyed snake, having a me-some.” 

You both burst out laughing at that. When you calmed down, he was shaking his head in disbelief while he fiddled with the too-long sleeves of his jumper. 

“So um, I brought pizza,” you said, motioning to the kitchen table, “if you still want to watch the movie. But if you’d rather I go, I totally get it.” 

“No!” he blurted, one hand reaching out to catch you even though you hadn’t moved an inch. “Let’s watch the movie, yeah?”

The two of you moved in sync, gathering plates and the pizza before settling on his bed, his laptop between you as he queued up the movie. You ate in companionable silence until Evie was bargaining for Rick’s life in the prison when Steven hit the spacebar and paused it. 

You turned to him to find him already looking at you. The look in his eyes was sheepish, as if he didn’t want to say something but knew he had to. Your nerves kicked in — was all of this a bigger deal than you thought? Had he been stewing on it? Your instinct was to diffuse tension with humor but, as you’d been told by more than one ex, sometimes it felt like you didn’t take things seriously as you should. 

“What’s up?” you asked. 

“I, uh, I didn’t answer your question.” 

You tilted your head, confused. “What question?” 

“About thinking about you while I, uh, wank.” 

“Oh,” 

“Cuz I do. Think about you. Not that I see you as just a sexual object, I think you’re absolutely brilliant but you’re also dead sexy and after what happened at yours it’s like I, I can’t get you out of my head so I thought avoiding you would make it go away but that just made my massive crush on you way worse-” 

He wasn’t just rambling, he was rambling about how much he liked you — how he stroked himself to the thought of you and thought you were brilliant and hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you. But the most important part was that he had a crush on you, too. 

You cut him off with a kiss, having heard more than enough.

Gentle at first, allowing him plenty of room to pull away if he wanted, but he pressed his lips against yours instead. One of his hands wrapped around the back of your neck, the other sliding around your waist. 

You brushed your tongue against his lower lip and he opened for you, licking into your mouth in a way that made you clench around nothing. Fuck — you had caught him fucking his fist to the thought of you half-naked. That thought plus his hand wandering under the hem of your t-shirt had you incredibly wet, almost dripping. 

Eventually, you came up for air. Steven looked gorgeous, lips slightly swollen from kissing and his blissed-out expression. You wondered what he looked like as he came, a smile forming on your face as you realized you would find out if you kept going. 

“Whatcha smilin’ about?” he asked, running a hand over your hair and letting it rest on your cheek. You turned your head and kissed his palm as an answer, then moved to the sensitive skin of his wrist. 

“You,” you replied simply. 

“C’mere,” he said, his hand on your hips pulling you over so you were straddling his lap. He sat up and kissed you again, hungrier this time, his hands roaming freely along your back, over your breasts, along your arms. His lips left yours and he kissed along your jaw, down your neck. Heat spread from every point of contact, leaving you wanting more but not without a little teasing first. 

“Steven,” you whined, “what about the movie?” 

“Sod the fucking movie,” he growled against your neck, one hand reaching over to slam his laptop shut and coming back to rest on your ass, pulling you against him. 

“Gonna show you what I’ve wanted to do to ya since we met,” he promised, and you bit your lip to keep from beaming at him.

[marvelstoriesepic]

Five days, Five bouquets

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Prompt: "Do I need to remind you that we're not actually married?"

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: talk of a fake marriage for the sake of a mission; fluffff

Author’s Note: This is written for the writing challenge of @elixirfromthestars ♡ I wasn’t planning on writing something so soon because I’ve still got a project going on right now, but your prompts and everything were just so alluring, I couldn’t help myself. I hope you enjoy this, my dearest. And I am almost entirely certain that this won’t be my only entry to your writing challenge, because I've got some more ideas lol. Here is a small continuation to this story: A Home for Now

Divider by @saradika-graphics ♡

Masterlist

“Again, Bucky?”

You don’t even try to mask your breathless laughter, the warmth of it slipping through as you rise from your seat.

The front door clicks shut behind Bucky and he scuffs off his boots half-heartedly on the door mat. There is a bouquet of flowers in his hand. And an even larger grin on his face.

The table before you is still cluttered with the remnants of your cover - documents, notes, a meticulously crafted facade of a life together.

A life that isn’t real, except for moments like these, when the borders become smudged just enough to make you wonder.

“‘Course, sweetheart,” he says, still smiling so wide, but his tone does not hold a trace of irony. “What kinda guy d’you think I am? Four days in a row and I just stop?” He scoffs as if the mere thought offends him. His voice is honeyed.

He stalks over to you standing at the table and holds the bouquet out for you. It is an understatedly beautiful arrangement of dusky pink roses, fluffy ruffled carnations, ivory lilies with petals curling slightly at the edges. Wisps of silvery foliage peek through, adding a breath of frost to the warmth. And then there are the deep inky leaves interwoven among the blooms, like something divine pulled from the shadows.

You take them with fingers that begin to tremble just slightly. His hand brushes over yours. A blush makes its way up your face just like every time.

You have been undercover for five days, posing as a married couple by orders from Nick Fury. And every day, even though it’s not at all necessary for you both to keep your cover, Bucky brings you a bouquet when he gets ‘home’ from his fake job.

He is embedded in a high-profile consulting firm, shadowing a suspect deeply tangled in covert operations, while you take a closer look at his wife. She’s not at all innocent. She manages high-stakes charity galas, the kind that funnel money into places they shouldn’t be. You play the devoted wife, hosting brunches, attending yoga classes she goes to, letting cautious friendships lead you to the information you need.

Five days. Five bouquets.

Each one different, but all of them hold some unspoken thing. Something that makes you shiver.

The choking in your throat is disguised with a roll of your eyes. “You do know we’re supposed to be laying low, right? Kinda hard when you’re single-handedly funding the local florist,” you tease rather lightly.

Bucky chuckles, low but bright, and you swear you feel the sound more than you hear it. “Oh c’mon, doll. Long as we’re playin’ house, I gotta keep my wife happy.”

This is a joke. It is all a joke. But your pulse is not laughing, only speeding up, tripping at the way he puts emphasis on wife. As if the word fits too well in his mouth, as if he could get used to it.

Bucky has always been a gentleman to you. Even outside of missions. But since you started this one, moving into the same house on the outskirts of town for the sake of your cover, the grumpiness and stoicism that usually surround his aura at the compound are completely lost here with you. You’ve never seen him smile as much as you have in the last five days.

You clutch the bouquet a little tighter, take a closer look, and take in the many appealing colors and scents. “Thank you, Bucky. I love those,” you say warmly.

His expression falters just a fraction like it does every time, not quite knowing what to do with genuine gratitude when it’s meant for him. Although you show it to him all the time. A flicker of something unguarded passes over his features before he covers it with a scoff that only makes it out halfway. He looks off to the side, shifting his weight. “Well, can’t have my wife thinkin’ I'm slipping already now, can I?” he laughs a little awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, the tips of his ears just the slightest bit of pink.

You turn with a huffed laugh and perform the task of putting away the flowers. Shaking your head, you start to get highly aware of the wedding band around your finger, a piece of fiction Tony gave you to wear. It looks so real, yet it is a lie. And you hate it.

“Do I need to remind you that we’re not actually married?” The words fall with amusement but they sit heavier in the air than they should.

The ring fits perfectly, Tony made sure of that. But it still somehow presses against your skin. As if to remind you that Bucky is not truly yours.

Bucky doesn’t miss a beat. You see him tilting his head from your peripherals as you reach for a vase. His smile is softened. “Don’t matter, sweetheart. Might as well treat you like my wife.” His voice is quieter now, less teasing. But sure.

The kitchen and living room are already brimming with the past four days of his affections.

One arrangement graces the coffee table, another stands by the window, and two more are carefully nestled between books on the shelf at the wall to your left. A home suffused with color, with life, with something neither of you dares to call by name.

You feel the warmth of his gaze on you. He doesn’t say anything, standing there relaxed, still with that proud and fond smile on his face, watching you as if he is engraving in his memory the way you fuss over where to place this latest offering.

And maybe you take just a little longer than necessary because if you turn too soon, you’ll have to meet his eyes.

And you don’t know if you can right now.

You’re not sure if you’d be able to look away.

But you know you should. Because this is not real.

But maybe - and this is the hope speaking - it could be someday.

“Imagine someone thinking of you and buying you flowers.”

- sleepyurl

[elixirfromthestars]

Hey! Your Cafe Writing Challenge looks lovely. I just wanted to confirm; is it alright to use just an AU and a Sweet Treat from the prompt list for inspiration and to not use a song - I got an idea based on the first two but it doesn't fit any of the songs listed? Thank you for answering and for hosting a challenge!

Thank you!! 🫶🏼✨ Yes that is completely fine!! As long as one prompt is used you’re good ☕️🤎 You don’t necessarily have to combine all three or even two. I just added them there for extra ideas!

Let me know if that answer helped! ☺️ Can’t wait to see what you come up with!! 💖

[a-spes]

| UNTIL ONE OF US DIE — Drabble (958 words).

| Summary — you promised to marry her but you didn't.

| Tags & warnings — Part of my "A drabble a day in june" challenge. — Yelena Belova x Reader, childhood friends (lovers?), death (R), angst without comfort, bittersweet, mentions of the redroom.

| REQUEST GUIDELINES — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

Everyone has always lied to her but it was fine, she got used to it. She smiles, pretending she doesn't see right through their games, doing whatever they are expecting her to, even if she knows that the only reward she'll get for it is a bitter disappointment. She is born to serve, and that's what she does the best. They give her a mission, she completes it, and then they are happy enough to leave her alone for a few days — Weeks, when she is lucky.

That's how the world works for her, it always did, but some truth are more difficult to accept. That her family never existed, that she has been ripped of a few years of her life, that her sister died, but also that you didn't keep your promise.

You were just kids but it still counted, didn't it?

It was only a few words that you whispered to each other when you were no older than ten years, something that happened in the secrecy of the dormitory. You both knew it was a dangerous game because no one was allowed to dream but you didn't care. As far as she can remember, you've never cared about anything.

"We can do it," you said, trying the blonde to break the rules with you, but she was too stubborn for that. She admired your recklessness as much as she hated it, knowning you could get in trouble for that. "We just have to make sure that they don't catch us. What they don't know can't hurt, right?"

Except it does, because they always knew. Until recently, she hadn't be able to understand why they kept you around all these years. You were an average widow wrapped in a sick layer of trouble, closer to the girls who received a bullet in their head than to those who held the gun.

You were borned in a place where light doesn't exist, and yet you had the brightest smile. You had no memories of your family. They ripped you from them before you could learn the sound of their voices but that never stopped you from dreaming. You spent your time imagining a life you've never — and will never — know, and it contaminated the others. Even she has sometimes surprised herself dreaming about what her life would be outside these walls.

"One day, I will marry you," you've told her back then, and she didn't believe you until you swore on every you had. Even if it wasn't a lot, it meant everything for the blonde.

It was more than a childish promise, it was the hope of a brighter future, and she held on it. Every time, even now, she sooth herself asleep by thinking about what your life together could be like. You would've the biggest house that can exist, and it would be far from everything, just the two of you, and maybe a dog or a cat. You would both love that peaceful and quiet place. It would be your little secret, a space just for the two of you that no one would know about.

"I'll find you. They can't separate us forever," she told you the day you were moved to a different unit with a few other girls. It was a week before the graduation, and she was scared that you didn't passed. That day, they took away the light of the group, and things has never been the same anymore. Maybe that's why they kept you for so long, to instil hope in the hearts of the other girls, only to rip it from them later. To break them into obedience.

The blonde kept her promise. She's been looking for you since she left that place. You were the last piece needed for the new life she wanted to start, and the most important one. It's been years she hasn't see you, what if she can't reconignise your face? What if you don't even remember her? All these questions were swirling in her head as she was waiting in her car, parked in the other side of the street. It was never easy to track a widow, especially when they seem to have done everything to make you disappear form the files.

After a few months, she eventually got a lead. She found a file about a mission you've been working on a few years ago but, most importantly, she found the widow that was sent in with you, the one she was waiting for in front of her building.

"Where is she?" she asked, showing a picture of you to the woman. The latter frown but when she eventually recognize the young face she was being shown as yours. However, all she gives to the blonde is a sad smile. She didn't need more to understand what those desolate eyes meant.

Yet, she didn't believed until she was shown the place of your grave. She wasn't even sure if you were there, they probably left your body were it died or maybe they burned it. She doesn't know, and she is not sure she wants to. That day, she left the cimetery without the ring she has bought for you when she got out, tossing it in the bushes.

As she walked away, she could still hear your voice and the promise you made that day. The one you've never — and will never — kept. You lied, and you breaking her trust was the hardest thing she's ever had to accept in her life.

| REQUEST GUIDELINES — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Tag list - @m0nsterqzzz

[mercurial-chuckles]

Wise Men Say!

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader Warning: Fluff | Kiss Word Count: 99 (proud of myself) A/N: This is for the Flash Fiction Challenge 5 hosted by our lovely @justagirlinafandomworld Thanks, Yvette, for hosting the event and spreading some much-needed holiday cheer! Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! GIF credits to @chris-evansimagines Divider credits to @buck-star Thank you :) Check out my other works: Masterlist

Flash Fiction Challenge Masterlist

Indulge Away!

Tony's off-key singing fills the room as he twirls a giggling Pepper, both super drunk.

You're doubled over, laughing, barely able to breathe, when Steve's intense gaze catches yours. He strides over, one arm winding around your waist, the other gripping the back of your hair, pulling you close.

"Guess Tony's onto something," he murmurs, his roguish grin stealing your breath.

"Ste..." Your gasp vanishes as his lips capture yours, firm and toe-curling, leaving you reeling, and from somewhere, Tony's voice cracks mid-song. "Can't help fallin… what the fuck, CAPSICLE?"

"Come with me, doll," Steve whispers, leading you out.

If you wanna be tagged in my works, add yourself here. <3 Please send me a message if you wanna be removed from the Tag list. :)

Tag list: @nekoannie-chan @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @bitchy-bi-trash @theallknown213 @tripletstephaniescp @rogerscut @greatenthusiasttidalwave @zaraomarrogers @shadowrose13-blog1 @king814318 @yiiiikesmish @steviebbboi @bernelflo @saiyanprincessswanie @blushingrn @looking1016 @jvanilly @mimisweetz @navyhua23 @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @shadyloveobjects @alexxavicry @astheskycries @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @patzammit @soelstress @8crazy-freak8 @stellar-solar-flare @stuckysgal @bval-1 @slowlyshycomputer @rogersbarber @avengersfan25 @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @thiquefunlover63 @blackhawkfanatic @notsostrangerthing @awkwardgiraffe726 @iamtamera @pebbles20 @ayayaeyato @starsrfun @harrysnovia @gingerplague @read-just-cant

[a-strange-server]

🦋 Strange Tales Of Halloween 2024 👻

It’s finally happening! The most awaited server event makes its yearly appearance! Can you believe it’s our third time?! Here’s to participation in whatever form you desire, let’s be strange together and make some spooky things!

Anyway, as our baby event grows, this year we decided to make one significant change: instead of lasting a whole month, the event is set during the last 2 weeks of October.

Brief info:

The event is set between 18–31 October 2024

We are open to all forms of creativity (fics, art, gifs, etc.) 🦋

42 prompts to choose from (2 types: words & sentences); 3 daily prompts

The main rule — works centred around Stephen Strange

Tag with #strangehalloween2024, so we can reblog on our Tumblr

If applicable, submit in our dedicated ao3 collection

Art by @unnnamedidiot with permission to use for the event. Show your support and reblog their amazing art!

We hope that you will once again have fun with Strange Tales of Halloween, whether by active participation or enjoyment of the contributions! Please remember to show your appreciation in comments, reblogs, kudos, etc. We encourage you to let others know that you like someone’s work! The fandom and its growing content exists because we want to be there, engaging with another. This is what allows Strange Tales of Halloween to be organised each year — you never disappoint by asking about said event!

🎃 Prompt list, FAQ & rules can be found bellow the line:

Prompt List

Friday 18 October — Bedtime story | Basement | Potion

Saturday 19 October — Claws | Whispers | “Follow me”

Sunday 20 October — Lies | Trick or treat | Zombies

Monday 21 October — Abandoned mansion | Scarecrow | “I don’t take orders from a cat”

Tuesday 22 October — Web | Cloak | Vampire

Wednesday 23 October — Spell book | Horns | “Stay still, or I’ll chop your hand off!”

Thursday 24 October — Candle | Wanderer | Shadow

Friday 25 October — Stars | Ruckus | “Say, weren’t you the one playing that creepy tune earlier?" "…I thought that was _you_.”

Saturday 26 October — Screams | Sacrifice | Poison

Sunday 27 October — Morbid curiosity | Wings | “Well, that’s a nifty spell!”

Monday 28 October — Summoning | Buried (alive) | Angel

Tuesday 29 October — Smile | Kingdom | “Are you speaking Latin?" "Why, aren’t _you_?”

Wednesday 30 October — Deal | Pumpkin (Spice Latte / Carving) | Demon

Thursday 31 October — Full Moon Party | Halloween | “Don’t mind them, they’re in the wardrobe.”

⚝ ⚝ ⚝ ⚝ ⚝

FAQ & rules 2024

1. What must be included in the content of a filled prompt?

Stephen Strange (any version of him: film, TV, or comics etc.) must be either the main or co-main character. Otherwise, anything goes!

2. Can I still take part in the event even if I ship Stephen with someone?

Well, that can be a bit tricky, but generally — yes, you can. We’d prefer to not having Stephen or the other character(s) being there for the sole purpose of shipping, but we’re not against shipping during the event, as long as it all resolves to showing the story or whatever you come up with, that regardless of the dynamic or chosen relationship (platonic, romantic, familial etc.), in the end, it is about Doctor Stephen Strange.

An established relationship, first meeting, or getting together could be allowed if shipping isn’t the driving force behind writing a prompt (yes, of course you can be wanting to have them together, but the thing is — dig harder. Romantic content is a given within the fandom, but the fandom also needs General content! Or/and especially good whumping or angst, or a detective story, an unique AU etc. There are a lot of interesting prompts, so it’s a very good opportunity to try something new or different.

3. What must be included in the tags of posts?

Use the hashtag #strangehalloween2024. Add either into description or a tag the prompts you use (or both). On Tumblr, please include additional tags for NSFW (or NSFT meaning Not Safe For Tumblr) and common triggers (see AO3 for examples). The triggers apply to SFW works if necessary.

4. When can I post my prompt fill(s)?

In the spirit of the theme, these should be posted between 18–31 October 2024. Any strict rules don’t really exist, but we'd prefer if you post prompts the day they were chosen to be posted, e.g. one of the prompts from Saturday 26 October (Screams | Sacrifice | Poison) on said Saturday or after it if you're late, but not eatlier (not on Oct. 20). Don’t worry if you won’t be able to fulfil something on time, you can always participate even if fashionably late. We’d still add it to the ao3 collection or reblog on Tumblr if we see it.

5. Where on the discord server do I post my submissions?

In our gallery for the event in #strange-halloween. It’s for submitting your finished works. Even if it's fanfiction or something that would usually go into art channels, this event is an exception.

Reminder: said channel is not for casual talking, not even about the event, there’s a separate thread within the channel for that.

If your work happens to be NSFW, the usual rules apply: post those into NSFW channels. But if you want, you can write a message in #strange-halloween channel to tell others that you have created something, and point to the appropriate channel.

6. What medium can I use?

Anything! Written prose, poetry, gifsets, mood boards, artwork, playlists, you can even cook or bake something! Make a figurine, crochet something, do a scrapbooking thing, do a cosplay, make a board game, or a quiz. An app for a phone. A game, a collage. Anything goes. All it has to do is to follow the main rule of the event — being about Stephen Strange. No Stephen? No contribution in this one, sorry. So, all is acceptable as a prompt fill. It's all about Stephen Strange in any form he comes in.

7. Can I combine different prompts into one submission (e.g.: Wednesday 23 October Spell book | Horns | “Stay still, or I’ll chop your hand off!” + an earlier/later one) ?

Sure!

8. There are 3 prompts per day. Do I have to do it all?

No. You can do whichever one you want. But if you want to do all no one would be stopping you.

9. Can I use your prompt list with other prompt lists/bingo cards?

Absolutely! Combine it with any other event you'd like to do.

10. Are there any limits to how many prompts I can use/have to use?

Nope! Participate with one or all 42 items! Do as much as you'd like!

11. I’m a bit confused about some prompts; what are the brackets for?

The prompts that have a word in the brackets or also a slash within are the ones where you can be a bit creative (and cheat the system to have more prompts if you try enough), e.g.:

Monday 28 Oct — there's Buried as a prompt. You can use just that word or include the one in the brackets to have Buried alive. Technically, you could also try a different way and get rid of the first one and only have Alive.

Wednesday 30 Oct — we have the prompt Pumpkin so either use this singular word or use the suggested ones to get a Pumpkin Spice Latte, or another option which is Pumpkin Carving!

So, you can either completely omit the additionally suggested words or not. Have fun!

12. I’m not a native English speaker, can I make something in my native language or the one I'm trying to learn?

Of course, there are no limitations. The more, the merrier! Any contribution is valid.

🦇 🎃 👻 🦋 Any other questions? Feel free to send an ask to this tumblr. We can't wait to see what you come up with!

⚝ ⚝ ⚝ ⚝ ⚝

Have a great spooky time! 🦋🎃🦋

[allthenobodypplfics]

I'll Crawl Home to Her Masterlist

Fandom: Bucky Barnes (from the MCU)

Pairing: Soft Dark!Bucky x Female Reader

Rating: Explicit

Status: Completed

Summary: You and Bucky are in love, but Bucky comes from the wrong side of town. Your family doesn’t want you two together and they will stop at nothing to tear you two apart. Bucky will stop at nothing to be with you. This is my entry for @saiyanprincessswanie’s Missy’s Writing Challenge. Thanks to @tricksterhidds for beta-reading!

Chosen Prompts: Biker AU, Forbidden Love, “I wish I could just hold you one more time,” and “I will always find my way back to you.”

Warnings: Soft!Bucky becomes Dark!Bucky, angst, fluff, smut (consensual, breast play, fingering, p in v sex, oral f receiving, unprotected sex), violence, killing, descriptions of death (minor character death, temporary character death, Bucky and Reader both survive), bigotry, toxic family, slight horror themes.

Read on AO3 || Main Masterlist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 (coming June 25)

[tarithenurse]

Baby it's cold outside

Fandom: MCU AU. Pairing/starring: DARK!Bucky x fem!reader. Word count: 80. Content: Coming DUBCON/NONCON implied, coercion, drinking, Bucky not taking a no for an answer. A/N: Trying to write max 100 words is an addictive challenge which @justagirlinafandomworld has provided with the addition of “Baby It's Cold Outside by Idina Menzel & Michael Buble” (a gorgeous rendition here – but this song always pisses me off so things got DARK).

Baby, it's cold outside

He’d chosen the music specifically for this, mirroring the way she shies away even as he leans in closer, offering her the strong drink.

It’s for her own safety, why can’t she see it? Outside, it’s a veritable blizzard – that he hadn’t planned, though, it was just pure luck.

Their fingers graze each other as she reluctantly takes the drink fro him. She’s cold. Shivering.

He’ll warm her soon enough, though. He’ll show her it’s better to listen to him.

[thelastharbinger]

something something something loki's love for sylvie more appropriately manifesting as platonic rather than romantic because his love for her is a lesson in healing--particularly the inner child that still holds resentment towards a lying, unaffectionate father. loki's heart breaks for sylvie because it breaks for him too. he sees her and views the version of himself that is still angry and deeply, deeply wounded. his affection stems from the empathy of understanding what it is to have had a narrative for their life controlled/manipulated for them. in their sameness, loki offers the compassion he wishes he would've gotten or would've been able to receive. and because to turn back on her would be to turn back on himself. loki allows himself to be something other than the trickster god he made himself out to be in a desperate plea at taking back control. it is mobius that tells him he can be other than what he was and offers him another mode of survival, all of it a lesson in love. sylvie teaches loki radical self-love, how to show up for himself and others, and mobius is the conduit through which loki practices this healthier way of loving.