We're accepting submissions for the July Challenge through August 10th.
This August, our prompts will be all pictures.
The challenge will run through to September 10th!
Prompts
One
Two
Three
Bonus Prompt
(because it's a raccoon!)
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How to use these prompts?
You can use these images to draw inspiration for a fic - it can be the mood of picture, an element from it, a setting etc.,
You can fulfill as many prompts as you like.
How it works | Submission Guide
This month's badges:
We'll make you badges with whichever prompt or prompts you chose!
Example:
Participating
We don't accept any AI generatred work. Submitters of AI work will recevice a warning and then continued use will result in a ban.
Creating
We accept the following creative work: Writing, Art -traditional, digital, Image manipulations, Moodboards, Playlists, Podfics. If you're not sure whether your work qualifies, please reach out.
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Commenting
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If it has been over 10 days since you posted or submitted a form and you haven't gotten a badge from us yet, please politely send this blog a DM.
We're accepting submissions for the July Challenge through August 10th.
This August, our prompts will be all pictures.
The challenge will run through to September 10th!
Prompts
One
Two
Three
Bonus Prompt
(because it's a raccoon!)
Please tag us and use #ssmchallenge , #ssmaugust2026 when you post your submission to your blog.
You are eligible to receive a commenter badge if you have commented on at least 1 of entries this month. Please DM us a link with your comment to claim your badge.
How to use these prompts?
You can use these images to draw inspiration for a fic - it can be the mood of picture, an element from it, a setting etc.,
You can fulfill as many prompts as you like.
How it works | Submission Guide
This month's badges:
We'll make you badges with whichever prompt or prompts you chose!
Example:
Participating
We don't accept any AI generatred work. Submitters of AI work will recevice a warning and then continued use will result in a ban.
Creating
We accept the following creative work: Writing, Art -traditional, digital, Image manipulations, Moodboards, Playlists, Podfics. If you're not sure whether your work qualifies, please reach out.
We will queue your submission as soon as we can. If your post recevies a 'Like' that means it has been queued.
Please read our submission guide before you make an entry.
Commenting
You can also participate by commenting and sharing! This is a community focused event, and we strongly encourage you to read and comment on other entries to the challenge, especially if they are writers and artists you do not typically interact with.
You are eligible to receive a commenter badge if you have commented on at least 1 of entries this month. Please DM us a link with your comment to claim your badge.
If it has been over 10 days since you posted or submitted a form and you haven't gotten a badge from us yet, please politely send this blog a DM.
We're accepting submissions for the July Challenge through August 10th.
August prompts will be posted August 1st.
For regularly occurring or ongoing events, check out our evergreen list.
Here’s what else is happening:
• Augustrope 2026, hosted by @belindarimbi13
• AU-gust, hosted by @thepromptfoundry
• Ficwip5K, hosted by @ficwip5k
• Siri’s Birthday Bash, hosted by @stargazingfangirl18 (runs Aug 15-18)
• Word Scramble, hosted by @wordscramble
• Angust in Space includes daily prompts and a bingo card, hosted by @angust-in-space
Dates to Remember:
• MiniStuckyBingo round one, hosted by @ministuckybingo:
⠀ ⠀⤷ Late sign-ups for pre-made cards run from August 15th-22nd
⠀ ⠀⤷ Round ends December 31st
• Marvel Bang, hosted by @marvelbang
⠀ ⠀⤷ Sign-ups end August 29th
⠀ ⠀⤷ Posting begins November 7th
• Stucky Bingo round 7 is currently active, hosted by @stuckybingo:
⠀ ⠀⤷ Sign-ups for pre-made cards go until October 2nd
⠀ ⠀ ⤷ Round ends October 31st
Note: You may combine our monthly challenges' prompts with other open events and submit an entry. Please check with other events if they are okay with combining prompts before you make a submission.
PS: If you are hosting or know about open events in the recent future and want to be included in our round-ups, please send us an ask or reach out to @stanmarvelous!
For new events and challenges every month, please see our monthly round-ups.
Weekly Challenges:
• Flash Fiction Friday, hosted by @flashfictionfridayofficial
⠀ ⠀⤷ New prompts posted every Friday at 12pm CET and run for 24 hours.
Biweekly Challenges:
• Bucky Barnes Microfic, hosted by @buckybarnesmicrofic
Open-Ended Challenges:
• Various challenges, hosted by @caplanreblogsfics
Monthly Updates:
• Monthly Writing Challenge, hosted by @monthlywritingchallenges
• Marvelous Yahtzee!, hosted by @marvelousyahtzee
• Trope Variety Hour, hosted by @tropevarietyhour
Note: You may combine our monthly challenges' prompts with other open events and submit an entry. Please check with other events if they are okay with combining prompts before you make a submission.
PS: If you are hosting or know about open events in the recent future and want to be included in our round-ups, please send us an ask or reach out to @stanmarvelous!
Characters: 40’s!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, ft. Rebecca Barnes and Steve Rogers
Word Count: <3.9K
Summary: One date has changed everything. What should be an ordinary summer day at Rockaway with friends becomes the turning point between what was and what could be.
Prompt(s): "Do you trust me?" / "Do you have any idea how fun it is to watch you try to keep your composure?" / 🌌 “So… what happens after this?”
Content Warning: Fluff, best friend’s brother, reader is falling but Bucky’s already down bad, gun usage (skill game), creative liberty when it comes to photo development in the early 40s (it’s for the plot, sue me), love confession, first kiss (everyone cheer!).
A/N: Apparently I can’t write this series without making each entry part of a writing event. And this is a three-for-one. Oops. Going out with a bang. Thanks to @castielscaplan for the Disney Celebration challenge, to @star-and-shield-monthly for July’s challenge prompts, and to @juniebjonesin for setting up the amazing picnic blanket prompts. And a quick thank you to @phoenix-in-writing for your gun knowledge! Felt silly asking, but you’re a supportive queen and ily. Gif credit.
Main Masterlist
Sleep doesn't come easily.
You try to tell yourself it's the faint honking from passing vehicles three blocks over, the distant crash of a steel trash can on a curb, or it being a warm summer night. But the only thing warm is your cheek, the feeling of Bucky's lips lingering for far too long and making your skin tingle.
Every time you roll over and smack the pillow in an attempt to find a more comfortable position, your mind replays memories of the night like images flashing across the silver screen. The crooked, excited smile on his face. His hand tugging yours to the dance floor. The gentle way he held you when the music slowed, his arm wrapping more securely around you. The look in his eyes when he pecked your cheek, like he wanted more but wasn't going to take it.
Your heart stutters.
Bucky wanted more.
The man who is—was?—like a brother to you, who listened to you complain about the way men treat you like you're something to claim, who never actually gave the advice you asked for and offered reassurance instead. He wanted more. But he didn't take it. He didn't even ask for it.
Because despite all the stories people have told about him since his freshman year of high school, despite all the women who have chased him, James Buchanan Barnes is, first and foremost, a gentleman.
Your gaze flicks to the vase your mother set near your windowsill. The flowers he brought specifically for you stand proudly under the soft glow of the streetlights outside, each petal a delicate display of something dangerously close to affection. Knowing he somehow knew exactly what flowers you prefer has something warm settling in your chest.
Years of being around the Barnes siblings, of being Rebecca's best friend. Years of looking at him like he's just Bucky. Now? The world has shifted, tilted on its axis before you could even think to brace yourself for the flood of realizations and subsequent emotions that can only mean one thing: you have feelings for him.
The thought makes your heart race and cheeks burn like a nervous schoolgirl.
Flipping your pillow over for the cool side, you shove your face into it hoping if it doesn't help you fall asleep, maybe it'll smother the thoughts running rampant in your brain.
Because Bucky Barnes is suddenly no longer just anyone.
And Rebecca is going to kill you.
The sun is just beginning to light the sky when sleep finally claims you, only waking at the incessant ring of the telephone down the hall. You're already pulling yourself out of bed and rubbing sleep from your eyes when the warm sound of your mother's voice answers the call. She smiles when you poke your head out the door.
"Phone's for you, dear." She holds out the receiver.
Mind still foggy with sleep and remnants of a dream you can barely recall, you head to the phone.
"Hello—"
"Come over, we're going to Rockaway," Becca's voice comes over the receiver, quick and impatient.
"No greeting?" you tease, leaning against the wall and fighting back a yawn. The house smells of lemon and sugar, making your stomach growl.
She sighs and you swear you hear her eyes rolling. "Hi, hope you're well. Bucky and Steve both have the afternoon off and if we leave soon we might still see daylight. Get over here."
— — —
The door to the Barnes residence swings open almost as soon as your knuckles touch it. A wild-eyed Becca beams the second her eyes land on you, the scent of Winnifred's fresh baked bread wafting out into the street.
"It's about time! That train is going to take us forever," Becca turns, calling to who you can only assume is Steve and Bucky in the living room. "She's here! Let's go!"
Steve's the first to come around the corner, a couple strands of his blond hair falling to the middle of his forehead. He offers a polite smile and a nod in greeting before Bucky rounds the corner, tossing an arm around his best friend's shoulders and meeting your gaze.
He looks unfairly handsome today; dark hair perfectly mussed, a grease smudge lingering near his temple from working at the garage this morning. The easy smile forming on his lips makes your stomach flip.
"Nice of you to finally show up," he says coolly. His gaze trails over your face, like he's searching for something. Or maybe he sees right through you.
Before you can even think to stop yourself, your mouth opens. "Miss me that bad?"
Bucky's eyebrows lift almost imperceptibly, his eyes flashing with something too quick to interpret.
"Maybe I did."
Becca, who is pretending not to watch the interaction and failing miserably, smirks and clears her throat. "Hey, Romeo, can we go now?"
Your eyes widen. Steve bites back a laugh while silently mouthing "Romeo?" and Bucky chuckles, already stepping forward and dragging Steve along with him out the door. Becca grins, clearly proud of herself, the loose curls of her hair bouncing as she falls into step beside you.
The day is bright and warm, bordering on uncomfortably hot as the mid-afternoon sun beats down on the sidewalks of Brooklyn. By the time you step off the train in Rockaway, mild relief comes in the form of a salty ocean breeze as the group walks down the boardwalk.
People sprawl out in all directions along the beach and across the street to Rockaways' Playland, earning a displeased grumble from Becca before leading the way through the crowd. She slips through easily, Steve following quickly behind her. Bucky falls in step behind you. Despite all the people, you can't help but be aware of exactly where he is, the sound of his shoes on the pavement, the low "excuse me" as he brushes past someone to keep up with you.
The crowd inside the park is only slightly less crowded as the beach itself. A line for the park's specialty wooden coaster snakes around in a neat line before ending near the carousel. The scent of fried funnel cakes and popcorn mixes with the salty air. It brings back memories of all the times this same group went to Coney Island growing up, when everything felt effortless for four kids in Brooklyn.
Your gaze lands on Bucky. He's laughing with Steve as they approach the line for the ticket booth ahead, carefree and happy as the afternoon sun highlights his sharp features.
Becca catches you looking and hooks her arm in yours. She leans over and whispers conspiritorially, "How was the date last night?"
Your eyes snap to hers, heart racing. Bucky glances over across the midway.
"Date?" you ask a little too quickly. As if Rebecca Barnes hasn't been able to read you like a book for most of your lives. You hadn't told her yet. You hadn't mentioned any Friday night plans to her, let alone that said plans had involved her older brother.
She gives you a look, all but rolling her eyes as the corners of her lips pull into a knowing smile.
"With my idiot brother, obviously."
Years of friendship, of shared laughter, tears, secrets and jokes have made you as close as any two people can possibly be. Things have changed overnight. You know it. She knows it. Yet she doesn't seem angry. If anything, she sounds relieved, like she's been waiting for the day Bucky finally stepped up.
"You're not mad?"
"Of course not," she scoffs before pressing further, giving you a little shake. "Details, girl, come on."
You swallow and huff a nervous laugh, suddenly finding a nearby pigeon incredibly interesting. "It was fine." Understatement of the century.
"Just fine?" she asks, leaning closer, voice raising in utter disbelief. "He came home practically floating on cloud nine last night. I've seen him go on a lot of dates over the last ten years, but there's only one person I've seen make him smile like—"
"Atom Smasher, ladies, let's go!" Bucky calls, his voice booming louder than necessary and pointing to the coaster rumbling by. People nearby glance at him sideways. Someone spills popcorn. He's staring at Becca with the look of an older brother knowing exactly what's about to be said and silently begging her not to continue.
She looks at you but doesn't finish her statement, turning on her heel and leaving you standing near a hot dog cart processing her words. You follow slowly, stomach flipping from more than just the thought of the roller coaster.
The afternoon moves in a blur of laughter, adrenaline, and too much sunlight for anyone's own good. Bucky attempts to play ring toss, insisting his aim is perfect, before wildly missing two of the three shots.
"What was that?" Becca snorts, doubling over in laughter and wiping non-existent tears from her eyes.
"Distracted, Buck?" Steve asks. His lips twitch with a knowing smile.
"What? No," he says quickly. The tips of his ears turn pink. "My arm's tired from the shop, shut up."
You bite back a smile from the sudden realization that James Barnes isn't always as suave as he appears and is, in fact, human—nerves and all.
He catches your eye before he rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat. "Anyone up for the shooting gallery? A quarter says I can hit the bullseye on the first try."
Steve and Becca glance at each other sideways.
The gallery sits toward the middle of the park, tucked between concessions and skill games against the roller coaster, with scooter cars across the midway. Lights flicker on, the sun beginning to set and casting an orange glow across the various structures. Bucky doesn't hesitate the moment the gallery comes into view. He rushes over and hands a dime to the attendant, wearing a grin that is far more confident than it probably should be.
The moment the gun touches his hand, his demeanor changes. He lifts it with all the seriousness in the world—intense focus and smooth movements that speak of a man who's done this more times than he can count. He pulls back the forend and fires a shot before you even blink. A bulb flashes immediately.
"Bullseye!" The attendant calls, grabbing the photo that just printed and setting it on the counter next to Bucky.
"Lucky shot," Steve scoffs.
"Jealous, Rogers?" he asks, lowering the gun.
"How—" you start.
Bucky glances over at you, his grin back. He grabs the picture and shoves it in his pocket unceremoniously. He shrugs, but the look on his face betrays just how confident he is. "Easier than it looks."
"Liar," Steve and Becca mumble simultaneously.
Bucky ignores them, his focus solely on you. "I'll prove it. Give it a try." He gestures with his head for you to come closer, the gun securely in his hands.
As you step towards him, interest piqued yet moving slower than strictly necessary, you barely register Steve clear his throat. "We're gonna go find something to drink," he announces before dragging Rebecca off somewhere.
"I'm going to embarrass myself," you mutter when you finally reach him.
Bucky's lips curl into a smirk that would be almost infuriating if it didn't make your pulse spike. "Not a chance, I'll help you. Do you trust me?"
"After ring toss? No."
He blinks, looking offended for a moment before a smile spreads across his face. "Oh come on, did I not just prove myself right here?" he laughs. "I'm better with a gun, I promise."
"Fine." With a resigned sigh and a roll of your eyes, you take the gun from him and step up to the counter. It's heavier than expected, the metal cool against the summer air, the wood polished just enough to be smooth in your palms.
Bucky waits for you to nod before he steps behind you. His hands are warm and careful as they guide your form; firm grip on the forend, butt plate braced against your shoulder, elbow just so.
His hands move to your shoulders, fingers squeezing gently. "Relax. Too stiff in the shoulders and you'll definitely feel it tomorrow."
"Easier said than done," you mutter, all too aware of how close he's standing and how heat is radiating from him.
He doesn't respond right away. Instead, he just watches, waiting. Your eyes are locked on the center of the target, finger on the trigger guard, breath coming out a little too quick.
You can feel the weight of his eyes on you, making your heart beat quicken. Then he leans down slightly.
"Do you have any idea how fun it is to watch you try to keep your composure?" His breath is hot against your ear. You shiver. You don't even have to look at him to know his lips are curved into that familiar Barnes grin that means trouble.
"Shut up," you huff, the gun still aimed at the target. Heat warms your cheeks, and the way your heart beats against your chest makes it hard to focus on the target in front of you.
He chuckles and takes a half step back, giving you space to focus.
"Rest your cheek against the wood. Line up both sights and take a breath. You can do it."
You take a deep breath, grateful for the space. The coaster roars by, rattling the ground beneath your feet. Then, with relaxed shoulders and a slow release of breath, you pump the forend and squeeze the trigger.
A bulb flashes.
"Bullseye!"
You stare at the target in disbelief. A beat passes. Two. A low whistle sounds from behind you.
"Would you look at that," Bucky murmurs, tone full of pride. "Careful. With a shot like that, they might send you to Camp McCoy."
A laugh slips from your lips and you shake your head, lowering the gun and handing it back to the attendant who hands you the souvenir photo.
You glance at the picture in your hands and everything stops.
Centered in the image is you, hair slightly ruffled from the afternoon's activities, face focused. Behind you is Bucky. Standing just beneath the Shoot-A-Photo sign, he stands tall. Proud. His eyes aren't on the target; they're on you, with a look on his face you've never noticed before—a soft smile, softer eyes. It makes your breath catch.
Bucky peeks over your shoulder at the picture, your silence making him curious. His gaze lingers on the photo for a moment before flicking up to your face, watching your expression.
"You're overthinking again," Bucky teases softly, pulling you from your thoughts. He nudges you with his elbow for good measure, chuckling when you attempt to swat him away.
"I'm not."
"Your eyebrows say otherwise."
You huff and turn to look at him. He grins before you speak again. "I'm just…trying to make sense of some things."
"Yeah," he sighs, his expression softening with an understanding nod. "I know the feeling."
His gaze drifts down the midway, finding Steve and Becca near the carousel. Steve suddenly finds something interesting in the sky, but Becca doesn't back down from watching the scene unfold.
"Walk with me?" Bucky asks, his eyes finding yours again.
You hesitate for a moment before nodding, the grip on the photo in your hands tightening slightly.
As the two of you walk through the park, each step slow, Bucky lets the silence stretch, allowing the amusement park's general chaos and tinny music fill the space instead. It's comfortable in a way you hadn't expected. Years of friendship now teetering on the edge between possibilities that could make or break everything you've ever known.
Bucky breaks the silence first, his hands shoved in his pockets. His shoulders are tense. "Remember how we used to spend essentially entire summers at Coney Island?"
The reminder makes you smile. "We spent far too much time there. Too much sun."
Bucky laughs. "And too much cotton candy. Becca used to badger me to not eat so much sugar."
"You never did listen. Those poor employees."
"Hey,"—he throws his hands up in surrender—"it's not my fault they offer pure sugar for so cheap and then have the best coaster in Brooklyn directly opposite the stand. It's like they encouraged it."
You both laugh, the nostalgia a welcome distraction for a moment before your thoughts comes crawling back. Bucky gives you a moment before speaking again, his voice low.
"Anything I can help you make sense of?"
You shake your head, unsure where to even begin or how honest to be. Your mind replays the past twenty-four hours and Rebecca's words. The photograph in your hand is physical proof that you aren't crazy.
"I don't even know how to explain it."
"Try."
"I'll sound ridiculous."
"Impossible."
You sigh, shoulders raising with a deep breath to brace yourself. "I thought you asked me out because you pitied me."
He stops in his tracks. His brows pinch in confusion as he looks at you.
"Pity?" The word leaves him like he's not sure he heard right. He says your name with a short huff of disbelief. "Why on earth would you think that?"
You shrug, not quite meeting his gaze. "Because my love life is hopeless. Because you're Rebecca's brother. Because I've watched women throw themselves at you for years. Take your pick."
His mouth opens and closes a couple times, processing your words. When he doesn't answer right away, you finally look at him, and for a moment, he looks torn between being honest or making a joke to ease the tension thickening the air. He picks the former.
"Last night was the furthest thing from pity. That was me finally doing something I should've done several years ago."
That admission hits hard, making your heart skip. "What?"
Bucky hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. He takes a deep breath, voice low and steady.
"Every smile aimed in my direction makes me feel like I can take on the world. Every time you laugh at one of my stupid jokes…" he chuckles and shakes his head, his gaze falling to the concrete where the toe of his shoe scuffs the concrete. "Then you came over after another bad date asking me for advice with men that don't deserve you, and I had no idea what to say. Because to me, those men are just too blind to see how incredible you are."
The silence stretches between you, your mind and heart racing. His eyes lift to find yours again.
"Every time I look at you, I have to fight not to reach for you, to hold you. I took you out last night because I wanted you to know how I'd treat you if you gave me the chance."
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" you whisper, voice barely audible among the noise.
He sighs. "I was scared—I still am. The last thing I want is to ruin what we have. You mean a lot to me."
The air stills.
"You really mean that?" Your feet move a half step closer.
Bucky looks at you, hoping flickering in his eyes. The tension in his shoulders ease.
"Every word," he murmurs. His hand lifts, his fingers brushing against your cheek. The touch is soft, barely there and different than last night—tentative and full of silent questions.
You find yourself leaning into his touch, warm and familiar in the best way. His eyes glance at your lips before searching your face for any signs of hesitation. His thumb brushes your cheekbone.
Then, slowly, he leans in.
The kiss is short but sweet. A simple press of lips, uncertain, yet enough to forget the noise and people around you as his hand moves to fully cup your cheek.
It ends too soon.
Bucky pulls away just enough to rest his forehead on yours. Opening your eyes, you find his still closed, lips parted with breaths that fan across your face in light puffs, brows drawn together just enough to cause a crease between them. He slowly pulls back again. A muscle in his jaw twitches when he finally opens his eyes, immediately flicking to your lips like he's committing how they feel to memory.
You smile before you can stop yourself, feeling lighter than you have in a long time. He licks his lip and grins back, a soft laugh escaping him.
"That was…" he starts.
"Terrible?" you offer. Bucky laughs again, his free hand lightly touching your waist like he wants to pull you closer.
"Better than I'd hoped, actually."
The admission is soft and makes your heart flutter.
"So…what happens after this?" you ask.
He nods thoughtfully, taking a half step back like he just remembered you're in public, Rockaways' Playland hardly being a place for privacy. His touch lingers for a moment before dropping back to his side.
"I'd like to give us a real chance. If you're open to it."
You don't let him finish before your answer comes tumbling out. "I'd like that, too."
Bucky's blue eyes sparkle under the midway lights. He doesn't say a word as he reaches for the hand not holding the photograph, fingers intertwining with yours like it's second nature.
"Perfect," he says softly. "Come on, I think fireworks are starting soon."
The walk back down the midway feels shorter than it did before. Maybe it's the weight of everything now lifted off your shoulders, or maybe it's the feeling of his hand in yours. Maybe it's the lingering memory of his kiss—an answer to the million questions you asked yourself over the last day. Whatever it is, the crowds heading towards the beach barely register.
Steve spots you first, smiling to himself at the sight of your joined hands before gently nudging Becca's side. Her eyes go wide. Her grin goes wider. No one says a word as the four of you follow the crowd to the beach across the street.
The sand is still warm from the day when you sit down, placing the picture on your lap. Bucky doesn't let go of your hand, his shoulder brushing yours as he joins you, his long legs stretching in front of him.
It's a short wait before the first firework bursts, red lighting the sky and reflecting across the water. Golds and blues join quickly and fill the air with a dazzling display.
You glance at Bucky. He's not looking at the fireworks. He's watching you, lips curving into a soft smile when your eyes meet.
His fingers tighten around yours, and you scoot a little closer, resting your head on his shoulder. He lets out a quiet sigh and gently leans his cheek against your head before finally looking at the fireworks overhead.
A/N: If you’ve made it this far, I just want to extend a massive thank you for reading and supporting this story. It’s been almost a year in the making, which blows my mind when it wasn’t meant to go this far. You’ve also seen me grow significantly as a writer and it genuinely makes me emotional. Anywho…as of now, I’m tentatively calling this the end—but you never know what inspiration might hit me and maybe there will be a sequel someday. Lots of love 💜
She will be bringing back the monthly event round-ups starting in August.
Welcome Ash! We’re so delighted to have you!
Note: Since this a shared blog, it no longer supports DMs. Please reach out to us via asks or DM @stanmarvelous for event round-up related things and @indigo-jungle for everything else
⤷ author’s note: @star-and-shield-monthly’s june challenge prompt: maritime AU. series masterlist to come! (was supposed to be a one-shot, ended up with 10k words just for the start... so we're gonna have a small mulit-chapter fic ... have the prelude first while i finish writing!)
+ more bucky from me
There was once a village by the sea, and the sea was a wicked neighbour.
In fair weather it gave fish enough for soup and silver enough for selling, and the children of the village ran barefoot upon the rocks and thought themselves beloved. But in foul weather the sea climbed the cliffs, beat upon the doors, and took whatever had been carelessly left too near its mouth. Nets, boats, dogs, drunkards, wedding rings, little shoes – the sea took all these things, and never once gave its thanks.
The village was called Starfall Bay, and in the oldest days, when the cliffs were still nameless and the first cottages had scarcely learned to fear the wind, a star fell out of the sky and struck the water beyond the reef.
Some said it was truly a star. Some said it was an angel cast down for loving the earth too well. Some said it was only a burning stone, and those people were considered dull company and were not invited to tell stories by the fire.
Whatever it was, it fell with such force that the night split open. The sea boiled white and fish leapt dead upon the shore. For seven days and seven nights the water beyond the reef shone silver, and all who stood upon the cliffs after dark heard music under the waves – not music made by pipe or fiddle or church bell, but something older, colder, and sweeter than any mortal throat ought to bear.
After that, the bay was never quiet again.
Now, beyond the village there stood three caves, and beyond the caves there lay a reef as black as a dead king’s crown. No boat that struck it came home whole. No man who swam too near it kept his name for long. And in the deepest water beneath that reef, where the fallen star was said to have gone dark at last, lived the Drowned Man.
He was not drowned, though that was what they called him.
He was not dead, though many wished he were.
Some said he had been a sailor once, taken under on the night the star fell and returned with silver in his blood. Some said he was the star’s own child, born of fire and salt, too bright for heaven and too lonely for earth. Some said he had never been human at all, but was made from storm-water, whale-bone, and the last breath of men lost in fog.
This much was agreed; he was beautiful, and that was the first danger.
His hair was black. His eyes were blue. His face was fair enough to make grief pause at the threshold and forget why it had come. From the waist up he looked like a man, though no man ever had such teeth, or such hands, or such a stillness when he watched from the water. From the waist down, said some, he was scaled silver and black, with a tail strong enough to break a mast and quick enough to vanish between one blink and the next. Others said he had legs when he wished for them, and that this was worse, for a monster one can recognise is less dangerous than a man one might pity.
But his voice was the worst of him.
When he sang, fish rose dead-bellied to the surface. When he sang, lamps burned blue. When he sang, wives woke and found their husbands standing at the door with bare feet and smiling faces.
“Where are you going?” cried the wives.
“Home,” said the husbands.
“You are home,” cried the wives.
But the husbands only smiled more sweetly and walked into the sea.
Sometimes the Drowned Man did not sing at all. Sometimes he called a name through the fog in a voice one loved and trusted. Sometimes he sounded like a child crying where no child could be. Sometimes he sounded like a man long buried, asking to be let in from the cold. Those who heard him turned their faces toward the water. If they were in boats, they loosened their hands from the oars. If they were on land, they stepped from the path. And if those who loved them seized their coats and begged them to stay, they only smiled and said they were going home.
So the people of Starfall Bay made rules, as people do when they cannot make safety.
Do not answer singing from the water.
Do not follow a voice in fog.
Do not go to the eastern caves alone.
If something in the tide calls you by name, plug your ears and run.
These rules were taught to every child before they were taught their letters.
For a while, the rules were enough. Boats went out and came back again. Children grew old and lovers kissed behind the dunes and returned with sand in their shoes instead of salt in their lungs. The Drowned Man was heard only on storm nights, or after funerals, or by liars.
Then came the black ship.
It had no flag and made no harbour. It came at dusk, when the sky was green and the gulls flew inland. Its hull was black. Its lamps burned an ugly colour in the mist. The men aboard wore coats without buttons and gloves though it was summer. They did not laugh. They did not sing. They brought iron hooks, iron cages, and nets weighted not with stone but with silver.
The harbourmaster asked their business.
“Fishing,” said the men from the black ship.
“For what?” asked the harbourmaster.
“For what belongs below,” they said.
That night, the sea thrashed like a beaten horse. The church bell rang without a hand to pull it. Every dog in the village hid beneath the floorboards. Babies screamed in their cradles. Mirrors turned black. And from the eastern caves came a song so sweet and terrible that all who heard it stuffed rags into their mouths for fear their souls would climb out and answer.
Some said the sea itself rose then, as though to defend what was its own. Some said lightning struck the reef so many times it shone like a crown of knives. Some said they saw, in the white mouth of the storm, a man with blue eyes and silver-dark scales, fighting nets, hooks, and chains. But no two witnesses agreed, and by morning all that remained certain was this:
The black ship was gone.
And so was the Drowned Man.
Then the village rejoiced, for people are often glad when a danger is taken, and slow to ask who has taken it.
They baked bread. They mended their nets and righted the overturned boats. They thanked God and the saints and the weather. They told their children the monster had been caught and carried away, and that the sea, having lost her wicked voice, would trouble them no more.
But that was foolish.
The sea had not lost her voice, the sea was only holding her breath.
Years passed. Children grew and the old people died. The story became smaller and uglier with every telling, for this is another habit of people -- when a frightening thing disappears, they make it more monstrous than it was, so they may feel wiser for having survived it.
The Drowned Man had eaten sailors.
The Drowned Man had kissed girls until their hearts stopped.
The Drowned Man had dragged children from their beds by singing through the keyholes.
Every winter gave him sharper teeth. Every grandmother gave him longer claws. By and by, no one remembered whether he had ever saved a drowning boy, or cut a net from a whale-calf, or wept when the black ship put silver through his flesh and iron around his wrist.
For people remember fear more so than pity.
But the sea, she does not forget.
On storm nights, when the tide rose high enough to lick the chapel steps, the water below the eastern caves shone with a pale, fallen light, as though the star beneath the reef had opened one sleeping eye. Locked doors rusted in their frames. Iron nails bled brown streaks down white wood. Fishermen woke from dreams of a man with blue eyes and a collar about his wrist, opening his mouth though no sound came out.
Then the grandmothers of Starfall Bay would draw the children close to the fire and say:
Do not trust a pretty face in the water.
Do not trust singing after dark.
Do not trust men who bring cages and call it fishing.
And if one day the sea gives back the Drowned Man, do not greet him with a knife.
For a monster may have teeth because he is wicked.
Or because the world first showed him its throat.
And if a star falls into the sea, child, remember this well: men will come with nets and call it theirs.
Thanks everyone who responded to the survey! This has helped me figure out how to move forward.
Thank you also for all the prompt suggestions.
I'm also very grateful for the folks who have shown up and participated in the monthly challenges! Much love to you all! 💙
Here are the changes starting in July:
Prompts will be revealed on the 1st of every month and you have till the 10th of the following month to get your entries in. One the biggest asks was for more time and hopefully this will be able to give you more time to with the prompts.
We will be dropping the event round-ups.
I'm willingly to continue running this until the prompts I have planned out currently are posted, which should be in December.
Depending on participation levels, Star and Shield monthly challenge will be sunsetting in Jan 2027 with another extra life challenge.
Hello! We announced some changes to the format based on your responses to the survey. Please see the changes post here.
You can still submit entires for the June challenge until June 10.
This month challenge will run from July 1st to August 10th.
Prompts
Lake house/ Ski Chalet
Ideas to spark the muse: racing through the snow, cliff-diving, winter sports, fishing , skinny dipping
Roadtrips
Ideas to spark the muses: stranded in the middle of nowhere, surprise trips, gas station snacks
"Do you have any idea how fun it is to watch you try to keep your composure?"
Please tag us and use #ssmchallenge , #ssmjuly2026 when you post your submission to your blog.
You are eligible to receive a commenter badge if you have commented on at least 1 of entries this month. Please DM us a link with your comment to claim your badge.
How to use these prompts?
You can use these words and dialouge to spark an idea. You don't necessarily have to use the exact words in your entry. As long as there is connection to the prompt and you can tell us, it's all good.
You can fulfill as many prompts as you like.
How it works | Submission Guide
This month's badges:
Participating
We don't accept any AI generatred work. Submitters of AI work will recevice a warning and then continued use will result in a ban.
Creating
We accept the following creative work: Writing, Art -traditional, digital, Image manipulations, Moodboards, Playlists, Podfics. If you're not sure whether your work qualifies, please reach out.
We will queue your submission as soon as we can. If your post recevies a 'Like' that means it has been queued.
Please read our submission guide before you make an entry.
Commenting
You can also participate by commenting and sharing! This is a community focused event, and we strongly encourage you to read and comment on other entries to the challenge, especially if they are writers and artists you do not typically interact with.
You are eligible to receive a commenter badge if you have commented on at least 1 of entries this month. Please DM us a link with your comment to claim your badge.
If it has been over 10 days since you posted or submitted a form and you haven't gotten a badge from us yet, please politely send this blog a DM.
Stucky, Poolverine, very meta, very crack, very weird. This is a very ham-handed attempt to hit all the remaining prompts in one go. I succeeded. The drabble, however, may not have. This drabble meets the requirements for the following prompts:
@societynsoelsscribbles June Jukebox Scribbles (Don't Speak by No Doubt)
@swoon-june prompt "swoon / free day"
@juneofdoom prompt "I thought you were dead"
@flashfictionfridayofficial Prompt 362 "Shouldn't be done"
@stuckygeekevents June Pride 2026 Track 8 "Don't Stop"
@star-and-shield-monthly June prompts "Crap that explains the dreams"
Summary:
The end. Maybe. You guys tell me.
“How are we alive?” gasps Bucky, pawing Steve’s chest. “I thought we were dead—”
“Shh,” soothes Steve, hand over Bucky’s mouth.
“Don’t tell me we fainted…”
“Don’t speak,” Steve warns him. “She’s sixteen words over the limit.”
“Who? What?”
“Then again,” muses Steve, “there’s a couple challenges in July, she could keep writing, she shoudn’t be done with us yet…”
Wade sits straight up in bed, awake with a vengeance. His stomach rumbles angrily.
“Crap,” says Wade. “Guess that explains the dreams.”
“Shut up, I’m sleeping,” grumbles Logan next to him.
Thanks everyone who responded to the survey! This has helped me figure out how to move forward.
Thank you also for all the prompt suggestions.
I'm also very grateful for the folks who have shown up and participated in the monthly challenges! Much love to you all! 💙
Here are the changes starting in July:
Prompts will be revealed on the 1st of every month and you have till the 10th of the following month to get your entries in. One the biggest asks was for more time and hopefully this will be able to give you more time to with the prompts.
We will be dropping the event round-ups.
I'm willingly to continue running this until the prompts I have planned out currently are posted, which should be in December.
Depending on participation levels, Star and Shield monthly challenge will be sunsetting in Jan 2027 with another extra life challenge.
Hello! A few of housekeeping things before we get the prompts:
Thank you to everyone who responded to the survey. Your insight has been valuable. We'll be tweaking the format starting July. We'll announce the changes shortly.
As you may have noticed this month's post is a bit barebones. I'm dealing with some life things (everything is being taken care of) and I don't have access to my laptop or ways to create graphics. There will be badges this month, but they'll be a surprise!
We've also decided to extend the deadline for the extra life challenge to this Sunday (June 14). So if you were on the fence, you've got some extra days to get your entries in.
Okay, now on to the June prompts
Prompts
This month's challenge will run from June 10th to July 10th.
1. PRIDE 🌈
Ideas to spark the muse: Genderbend AU, affirmation of identity, joy and resistance, fringe sexualities
2. Maritime AU
Ideas to spark the muse: Pirate AU, Mermaid AU, Titanic AU
3. "Crap, that explains the dreams."
Please tag us and use #ssmchallenge , #ssmjune2026 when you post your submission to your blog.
You are eligible to receive a commenter badge if you have commented on at least 1 of entries this month. Please DM us with a link to your comment to claim your badge.
How to use these prompts?
You can use these words and dialouge to spark an idea. You don't necessarily have to use the exact words in your entry. As long as there is connection to the prompt and you can tell us, it's all good.
You can fulfill as many prompts as you like.
This month’s badges:
Participating
We don't accept any AI generatred work. Submitters of AI work will recevice a warning and then continued use will result in a ban.
Creating
We accept the following creative work: Writing, Art -traditional, digital, Image manipulations, Moodboards, Playlists, Podfics. If you're not sure whether your work qualifies, please reach out.
We will queue your submission as soon as we can. If your post recevies a 'Like' that means it has been queued.
Please read our submission guide before you make an entry.
Commenting
You can also participate by commenting and sharing! This is a community focused event, and we strongly encourage you to read and comment on other entries to the challenge, especially if they are writers and artists you do not typically interact with.
You are eligible to receive a commenter badge if you have commented on at least 1 of entries this month. Please DM us with a link to your comment to claim your badge.
If it has been over 10 days since you posted or submitted a form and you haven't gotten a badge from us yet, please politely send this blog a DM.
We’re so excited to officially open sign-ups for the first-ever Star and Shield Collective Writer’s Relay!
Writer’s Relay is a collaborative writing event where writers are matched into teams of three to create a shared story together. The stories should follow a 2+1 format.
For example: Two times she almost confessed + the one time he did.
For this event, you can write for any Anthony Mackie, Chris Evans, or Sebastian Stan characters.
Sign-up Now
Event Timeline
June 20: Sign-ups NOW OPEN
July 2: Sign-ups close at midnight (US ET)
After submitting your sign-up form, you should receive an acknowledgment email within 3 days. If you don’t receive one, please reach out to the mods so we can make sure your sign-up came through.
July 6: Inspiration Prompts posted
July 10: Matches go out
July 11 – July 18: Teams connect, brainstorm and plot
July 18: Send in your writing line-up and fic masterpost
July 19 – August 1: First sprint
August 2 – August 16: Second sprint
August 17 – August 31: Third sprint
You can find the full event details here but here’s a summary…
How It Works
Sign up and indicate your preferences.
We’ll match you with two other writers. Once teams are matched, you’ll have time to connect, pick your prompt, brainstorm, plot, and decide the order your team will write in.
Please let us know your writing line-up before the writing period begins.
Each team member will contribute one chapter, with a minimum of 1,000 words and a maximum of 5,000 words.
The relay will run in two-week writing sprints. The first writer in the line-up will have two weeks to write and post their chapter. Once their chapter is posted, the next writer will have two weeks from that posting date to write and post their part, and so on.
You may post before the end of your sprint if your chapter is ready. Your teammates are also welcome to keep chatting, plotting, and supporting each other throughout the writing period.
Extensions & Pinch Hits
Life happens, and we understand that.
You may request an extension as early as 4 days before the end of your sprint. Extensions can be granted for up to 7 days, but please communicate with the mods as early as possible.
If you need to drop out, that’s ok, but please let us know as soon as you can so we can arrange a pinch hit writer.
Please do not disappear or drop out without communicating with the mods. Writers who drop without notice will not be allowed to participate in the next Writer’s Relay or Star and Shield Collective events for one year. You’ll still be able to participate in monthly challenges.
If you are assigned as a pinch hit writer, you will have 2 weeks to write and post the part of the fic you’ve been assigned.
Please make sure you read our acceptable fanworks post before signing up.
We’re so excited to see the teams come together and watch these stories unfold.
Ready to join the relay?
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Sign up here
Just Like In The Stories | Chapter 1 (of 2) - Mission Preparation
T+ | Steve Rogers x autistic!Avenger!fem!Reader | Idiots In Love, 2012 Tower Life Vibes. 1,847 words.
After a successful mission, Tony insist on the team going out to party. And while clubs aren't exactly your scene, you - an autistic scientist working as an Avenger - decide to join.
You just really, really have to make sure you don't let yourself be carried away. Just because Steve Rogers is nice, and kind, and wonderful towards you, it doesn't mean he's being anything but his considerate self.
Right?
WARNINGS: References to drinking and mentions of tipsy behavior, Reader has self-esteem issues related to her autism.
AU - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies | Avengers Team Members Live in Avengers Tower | Team as Family | Avenger Reader | No Use of Y/N | Teammates to Lovers | Mutual Pining | Clubbing | Partying | Idiots in Love | Autistic Reader | Reader & The Avengers Friendship
AO3 | Tumblr Masterlist| Fic Sideblog
NOTES: Challenges: @star-and-shield-monthly February 2026: Tipsy and In love.
A piece of fluffy romance with Steve and an autistic female Reader (no description of appearance). Her diagnosis isn't really discussed in the fic but she's written as such by an autistic woman, and she has some accommodations and her autistic work habits are referenced. But obviously, one short fic could never cover all sides of what is a big spectrum. <3
If you can spare the time, please let me know your thoughts. Comments mean the world to me and provide the Muse with proverbial caffeine and chocolate. Thank you for reading, and enjoy!
Reader specifics: She/her. Female. Autistic. Adult. Mentioned to be liking & wearing dresses, no other description of appearance. No use of Y/N or names beyond codenames/nicknames.
Alternate Universe: The Avengers Initiative (AVIN) continued SHIELD's work after its collapse to corruption. The Avengers are living together in the Tower & Compound - Bucky has healed, and Civil War never happened because Tony and Steve worked through their differences like adults.
I do not own anything Marvel-related. This is an unofficial fan work. No copyright infringement intended. This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.
Chapter 1: Mission Preparation
As you heard the door open, you stopped rubbing your tired eyes and straightened up from where you’d been leaning your elbows on the desk. There wouldn’t have been any need to do so: if FRIDAY had let someone through the door without getting a confirmation from you, then the visitor could only be someone who had seen you in much less put-together states. But it was still considered polite, and honestly, right now, a break was a welcome thing.
A very welcome thing, you thought as you spun your chair to face the door of your lab — although you were never certain if it should be called a lab for all the high-tech computers or a library for all the shelves chock-full of books. Your space in the Avengers Compound.
“Captain Rogers,” you smiled.
Regardless of how tired you were feeling, his presence always seemed to pull an expression of genuine joy onto your face. And this time was no exception, especially since he had arrived carrying a holder that had two cardboard cups of what you presumed to be coffee, and was holding a brown paper bag in his other hand. You didn’t bother shutting down the floating hologram screens in front of you, showing various astronomical charts and data related to them. Any information there, he’d be privy to.
“I’ve told you, Doctor,” he smiled back. “Please call me Steve.”
“I do call you Steve,” you pointed out. “When we’re off duty. Is this not about the mission?”
Your brow furrowed, and you could swear that he changed the way he carried his weight, leaning more on his left leg instead of on the right. His appearance did not give you any clue about the context of his visit — he was in the usual blue button-down and charcoal grey dress pants, which he seemed to consider his uniform when he wasn’t suited up or at the gym. He cleared his throat and straightened up, impossibly appearing even taller and mightier than he already had.
“Am I bothering you?” he asked softly. “Interrupting?”
You knew from the bottom of your heart that if you told him that he was, he would apologize and turn around and leave, no questions asked, no hard feelings. He understood, among other things, how certain things required uninterrupted focus and concentration to pull off, and as much as you liked having him around, sometimes the moment just wasn’t good.
Although, more and more often, you were finding that the moment was very good, regardless of what you had been working on. There was just something about Steve’s presence that made you feel like you were floating. Appreciated. Seen. Accepted. And perhaps he’d sensed the fact that he was welcome, since he’d started stopping by at least once every day.
“You are not,” you replied, ensuring that there was a smile on your face. “I could use a break.”
He relaxed and stepped forward.
“I thought you might.”
The smile on his face made your heart beat louder, even as you weren’t certain of the physical origins of that reaction. He set the coffees and the bag on the desk after a quick look to confirm there wasn’t anything in the way, and started to unpack the paper bag, chatting away with a slightly hushed tone:
“I just wanted to check in on you. You’ve been in here for quite a while. Wanted to make sure you’d get something to drink and eat while you’re working.”
You pulled a clock up onto your hologram workstation, frowning at the numbers that had no right to have gotten away from you like this. The data on your desk had been invigorating, and you were fairly certain that you would have found yourself riding the flow of hyperfocus even without the adrenaline that came from knowing that you could do your part in saving the world.
“I was focusing,” you replied. “I actually only came back to it a moment ago. Great timing.”
He set two biodegradable-plastic cafeteria containers in front of you: your favorite salad with a little cup of dressing, and a slice of French Chocolate Silk pie that looked absolutely divine. Finally, a water bottle and a set of utensils wrapped in napkins emerged from the bag before he set it down on the floor.
“I’ve noticed this interval seems to be fairly common,” he said, reaching for his own coffee. “For you to return to the realm of us mere mortals.”
He was certainly selling himself far too short if he was calling himself a mere mortal, but from the warmth of his voice, it was obvious that you weren’t the butt of the joke. You tilted your head, looking at his profile with a question he could probably sense in your eyes, and he froze mid-movement. He cleared his throat again, and you could swear there was a little pink on his cheeks. What for, you didn’t have enough data to understand.
“I didn’t realize you have paid attention to my typical focus patterns,” you asked as you were peeling the salad container open.
“I… It’s important for me to be aware of the working patterns of my team,” he said, as if choking the words out. “Looking out for everyone’s needs so they can do their best work.”
Yes. Of course. That was all it was. You resisted the urge to shake your head to drive the small but very persistent hope out. You and Steve were colleagues. Teammates. Friends, even — definitely. It was true that he had been incredibly kind and caring towards you, but then again, he was Steve Rogers. It was physically impossible for him to be anything but. You’d just watched too many cheesy romantic movies.
And even if it hadn’t been for the fact that you worked together, and how any awkwardness between you and Steve would no doubt affect others in the team — such was human behavior after all — you were better off anyway without considering such things. It was better to stay in the realm of numbers and data, things you understood and could make sense of. While the thought of a romance wasn’t unpleasant, especially with Steve — someone like Steve — it came with far too many unknown variables. Your sorry track of attempts at online dating definitely wasn’t in any type or form encouraging. It was better, safer here, in the realm of predictable things and platonic attachment, where you could still enjoy the occasional romantic daydream in the form of a book or a film.
So you wouldn’t, couldn’t, shouldn’t read anything from Steve’s behavior. You wouldn’t embarrass him by taking his kindness and twisting it into something it was not.
It made sense. It was entirely logical.
Then why was having a perfectly logical course of action failing to soothe you like it usually did?
In the end, the world had been saved.
Again.
And according to Tony Stark, this obviously called for a celebration.
You had to admit, it wasn’t a bad idea. The operation hadn’t been anything like the Battle of New York; it had been a months-long, exhausting ordeal, full of all sorts of covert missions and digging for intelligence, and finally a crackdown at the Hydra cell headquarters. After it was finally done, all of you had been left with a vague sort of emptiness, the what now feeling that always followed the completion of a big project.
But by gods, Tony had made sure that you would take a moment to revel in your victory. In his books, that meant a very exclusive, high-end nightclub and bottles of champagne, the price tags of which you did not want to know.
“Of course you’ll come too, Mastermind,” he had said when you’d been hesitant about whether the invitation also concerned you. “This is as much your victory as ours. We’ll accommodate you.”
He had said it like it was self-evident, and you had to admit, the entire time you had been working for the Avengers Initiative, taking your specific needs into account had never been an issue. And while nightclubs, with loud music and bright lights and drunk people, weren’t really your comfort zone, you’d decided to tag along.
Nat had assisted you in gearing up, so to speak: she’d done your makeup — complete with sharply lined eyes, long lashes, and a red, red lip — and helped you choose an outfit. She’d casually chatted about things as you’d pulled the dress on and slipped your mission earbuds into your ears. They’d filter out a lot of the noise while allowing you to hear the conversation and participate in it.
“That’s pretty Breakfast at Tiffany’s of you,” Nat smirked from where she was lounging in an armchair in your Tower room, looking at your black fit-and-flare dress. “You look great.”
“Thank you,” you said as you ran a hand over the fluffy skirt. “Are you sure it’s a good club dress?”
“Of course,” she replied, her expression softening. “Why would it not be?”
You sighed and shrugged.
“I don’t know? But it feels like in the images I’ve seen from clubs, people usually wear more form-fitting clothes. I don’t want to stick out in a bad way. Like I can’t dress for the occasion.”
You weren’t even sure where your nerves were coming from. Granted, any human gathering came with a ton of hidden trapdoors and conflicting rules, but it wasn’t like the people you were going out with didn’t know how you liked to dress. And you were looking to spend time with them, and not make any new acquaintances. There was enough going out of your comfort zone involved without any nerve-wracking new humans.
“You won’t. You look lovely. It might be a bit different than what many wear but more in the sense of people having different personal styles and preferences,” she reassured.
It wasn’t like she was wrong. She herself was wearing a dress you associated with clubs, a skin-tight black number that looked not only amazing but her, and the same could be said about your dress. But still. Something felt like it was off, a bothersome buzzing in your brain.
Nat let the silence sit for a bit as you were still scrutinizing your expression and finally continued, very softly:
“Are you sure this is about the dress?”
You blew out a breath, doing one more spin in front of the mirror.
“I… You know things can be a bit difficult with me. That I don’t work as normal people do. I just don’t want to ruin everyone’s celebration.”
Nat snorted a laugh, and you raised your brow in question to her. She got up from her chair, shaking her head with a one-sided smirk.
“Honey, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you don’t exactly work with normal people. Now come on, let’s go,” she said, wrapping her arm around your shoulders in a friendly manner and gently nudging you to move. “You’re not going to ruin anything for anyone, it’s your celebration too, and the limo’s waiting.”
This will be a full fic but for now, I'm publishing just the moodboard I made for them. It is an AU where Steve never went down with the plane and remained in the 1940s as the war ended.
It is an old-fashioned romance with themes of finding acceptance and safety and calm in one another, with the added themes of Ember's fathers' love & relationship being a secret she doesn't initially feel comfortable sharing with Steve and Steve suffering from PTSD post-war.
And a happy ending, of course. <3
@star-and-shield-monthly Extra Life Challenge - March 2026: 2. Historical AU.
