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darksideoftheshipps · 8 months

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I listened to this masterpiece and immediately thought of Lokius.

I see this scene in my mind very detaily.

Loki and Mobius are faced with a big decision and one of them must stay and the other must leave.

I don't know what exactly should happen. I haven't thought about it. But it would have to do something with multiverses, time slipping and other difficulties.

The one who has to go and stop it is Loki. And this would be the dialogue they would have between them:

Mobius: Loki, I know you and all of yours variants. You've never been a hero. Your intentions have always been very selfish. You've never wanted to save the world so why now? Why don't you just stay with me?

Loki: Well, that sounds pretty much like me right? You are not wrong. You know me so well and trust me, I want to stay by your side. But I've never said that I want to save the world. What I want in the first place is to save YOU. And if I'm lucky....I swear...I'm gonna save US.

Why am I doing this to myself....

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harrietbarnesblog · 2 years

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Morningasm

Masterpost

Masterlist

Taglist

Pairing: Marc Spector x reader

Warning: smut, language, masturbation, fucking in the morning, kitchen sex.

The sun shone on your skin through the window as you sipped on your coffee. You stood near the kitchen counter table in nothing but Marc's thin and delicate white shirt. You smiled to yourself recalling the rapturous love making with Marc last night. The coffee had almost gone cold when you took the next sip but you were too busy to notice it since you were engrossed in thoughts.

A pair of hands wrapped around your waist making you snap out of your thoughts and making you spill your coffee all over the shirt.

You placed the coffee on the counter and wiggled out of Marc's hand. You turned around to meet his face. 'Oops' was written all over his face. His eyes drifted down to your body from your face. His eyes concentrated on your nipples which were visible through the shirt due to the wetness of coffee.

Marc was turned on at the sight of you. He just wanted to grab your face and kiss you hard and fuck you right there with your face pressed against the counter.

You snapped your fingers in front of him waking him from his fantasy.

“I'm going to change my dress.” you said, walking past marc.

He grabbed your wrist, spinning you around and kissing you.

“Can i fuck you?” he asked you.

“No.”

“Please.”

You shook your head smiling.

“Please.” he begged.

You lean in, he can feel your breath on his neck. You kiss his jaw and nibble his ear.

“no .” you whisper in his ears with a sinister smile.

“You are such a devil.” he said with a smirk.

You push him away and jump and sit on the counter top. You unbutton the shirt. You remove the shirt and throw it to marc.

You let your fingers roam around your body. You roll your hardened nipples between your fingers.

Marc reaches to touch you but you stop him.

“No touching. just watch me. Okay?” you said.

“Okay.”

You rub your fingers over your wet clit. You take your fingers which were covered with your wetness to your mouth and suck it. Marc wished it was his dick.

You brought your fingers back down and inserted it inside you. You twirl your fingers. You let out a gasp of satisfaction.

Marc lost his self control. His sweatpants dropped to the floor. He grabbed his hard and throbbing dick in his hand. He stroked it with his hands. He ran his thumb over his tip which was dripping with precum.

He started to pump his cock in his hands imagining it was your pussy that was wrapped around his cock.

"Marc." You moaned, picking up your rhythm mercilessly.

"Y/n."

You give up. you can't punish him like this anymore. You wanted him inside.

"I want you inside me." You said, looking at him desperately. You stopped all your movement.

"Yes darling."

He walked to you. He grabbed your thighs and pulled you closer to him. He grabbed his cock in his hand. He pushed himself inside your pussy. He rolled his hips at a brutal pace.

You arched your back.

"You like that?" He asked you in a raspy voice.

"Yes." You let out a shaky breath. You were seeing stars.

Both of your body glistened with sweat.

You felt your face warm up. His breath hitched. Marc was enjoying how you were responding to his touch.

You felt Marc's cum fill inside. He kept thrusting, waiting for you to finish. Which didn't take a long time. You climaxed a few minutes after him.

He pulled out of you and dropped his body consciously on the floor, panting. You got down from the counter and laid next to him. The heavy breathing of you and Marc was the only sound that could be heard in the whole house.

You snuggled close to him. He wrapped his hands around. He held you like he wanted to hold you like this forever.

Taglist:

@littlsstuff

@stxrrylunatic

@omegadumb42069

#marc spector smut #marc spector x you #marc spector fanfic #marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x y/n #marc Spector x reader smut #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight smut #smut #marvel #marvel ff #marvel smut

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moonstruck-poet · 1 year

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Masterlist

Started - 21/5/22

Works - 49

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Harry Potter

Golden Trio Era

Marauders Era

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Poetry

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

Song Based Fics

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

BTS

Kim Namjoon

Kim Seokjin

Jeon Jungkook

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

Celebs

Tom Hiddleston

Ben Barnes

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

One Direction

Harry Styles

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

TXT

Kang Taehyun

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

Grishaverse

Nikolai Lantsov

Kaz Brekker

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Marvel

Loki Laufeyson

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gammacousin · 10 months

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✒️ Jennifer Walters just got a new habit in the latest chapter of A Ghost Thing

Rated: T

Genre: Family Drama/Comedy, Crack taken seriously

Warnings: Drug reference

---

“Ask her about the cat,” Susan is standing crooked, lowered opacity fingers reaching mid-question.

“Never mind the cat!” Elaine nudges her sister, “How’s Morris?!”

Natasha selects the last question to repeat, sipping her tea.

Jennifer tilts her head from side to side, “Dad is Dad. He loves to fuss in the garage and take things apart. He's busy with a new convertible.”

Elaine holds her forehead, “Such frivolous spending. He could afford to update my headstone.”

“Ask Jenny if she's met a man!” Susan prods further.

Natasha lowers her mug, sitting in the sofa ‘with’ Elaine and Susan across from Jennifer, “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Ha!” Jennifer leans back, dodging behind her laugh, “I was. Things got awkward when I met his parents. They didn't like the whole, hey! I change colors! Thing.”

“Got it.”

“Yeah. I don't know why I can't find a decent man with a family who won't judge me. I mean, you manage well. You don't find it strange.”

“Not anymore. It, does take some time to adjust. Be patient.”

“Adjust to what?” Elaine glares with foggy eyes, “What's wrong with turning green?!”

“I'm back with a menu!” Bruce enters the living room with a laminated sheet.

“Oh wow,’ Natasha leans back, ‘where was this? In the attic?”

“I made it myself, thank you very much,” He looks in between the twosome, “What’ll it be?”

“Ooh uh,’ Jennifer taps her lip with her green painted nails, ‘hmm.”

Natasha crosses a knee in silence, “There are a lot of options.”

“Well?” Bruce impatiently urges his cousin to pick.

Jennifer lowers the paper, fingertips spread as they tap each other, “What else do you have?”

“What do you mean, ‘what else’? I have what's on the sheet,” he gestures, sitting on the edge of the table.

“It's just. It's quirky, cousin.”

“What's quirky about it?”

“Natalia!” Romanoff hears her mother lecture as she passes through, doing her best version of dusting from beyond the grave, “That table is a priceless gift from the Czar and not to be sat on!”

“Bruce?” Natasha rubs her temple.

“Yeah, what?” he looks over his shoulder.

“The table...”

He blinks.

She shuts her eyes as her mother goes off in Russian and answers quickly, “We have other furniture meant to be sat in.”

“Okay, okay!” Bruce stands, cautiously pressing the air as if the gesture will calm Natasha.

Her mother nods and continues through the next wall.

“I'm thinking,’ Jennifer looks upward toward the ceiling, ‘steak.”

“Steak,” Banner’s eyebrows lift.

“Yes. And mashed potatoes. Not from the bag.”

“That's not on the menu.”

“No, but that's what I want,” she smirks.

“Uh huh…That’s nice,’ Bruce takes his page back in a huff, ‘seriously?!”

“Seriously.”

Elaine throws her hands into the air, “Who spoiled HER? Natasha?! You go find the inheritance money and split it with Bruce.”

“Bruce will get mine when I,” Susan swipes a finger across her neck.

“You've been dead for years, Sue! Your money was divided up and given to the children years ago!” Elaine glares.

Susan's eyes widen, “What do you mean ‘dead’?! Who's dead?! Is my ex dead?”

“YES!”

“Finally! I should've shot him years ago.”

“SUSAN! So are YOU!”

...Read the Rest

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etherealacoustic · 2 years

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Ps- Requests are open but will sometimes take time!

Masterlist

Started - 21/5/22

Works - 27

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Harry Potter

Wolfstar

Remus Lupin

Sirius Black

George Weasley

Fred Weasley

James Potter

Harry Potter

Draco Malfoy

Regulus Black

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Poetry

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

Song Based Fics

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

BTS

Kim Namjoon

Kim Seokjin

Jeon Jungkook

Min Yoongi

Jung Hoseok

Park Jimin

Kim Taehyung

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Celebs

Tom Hiddleston

Ben Barnes

Andrew Garfield

Sebastian Stan

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One Direction

Harry Styles

Louis Tomlinson

Zayn Malik

Niall Horan

Liam Payne

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Marvel

Tony Stark

Steve Rogers

Bucky Barnes

Loki Laufeyson

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Grishaverse

General Kirigan

Kaz Brekker

Nikolai Lantsov

Mal Oretsev

Jesper Fahley

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Enhypen

Yang Jungwon

Lee Heeseung

Park Jongseong

Sim Jaeyoon

Park Sunghoon

Kim Sunoo

Nishimura Riki

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Stray Kids

Bang Chan

Lee Minho

Seo Changbin

Han Jisung

Lee Felix

Kim Seungmin

Hwang Hyunjin

Yang Jeongjin

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GOT7

Lim Jaebeom

Mark Tuan

Jackson Wang

Park Jinyoung

Choi Youngjae

BamBam

Kim Yugyeom

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

Percy Jackson

Nico Di Angelo

Luke Castellan

Perseus Jackson

Grover Underwood

Poseidon

Charles Beckendorf

Hades

Will Solace

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iamfina5 · 2 years

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Sigr Edda

Summary: Sigyn of Asgard is the Goddess of Victory and wife to Loki. Or so humans have mistakenly believed for a thousand years. In truth, she is a peasant living in the shadow of Asgard's palace with power she's yet to understand. After inadvertently gaining the affection of the God of Mischief over the course of a few decades, it's not long before she is forced to choose between her loyalty to Asgard and her love for Odin's traitorous son. Her journey in doing so will take her to Midgard, where her reputation as a hero won't save her from a prophecy that spells death for herself and half the universe. Events span from before the first Thor movie to past Endgame & the Loki series.

Part Four: Sakaar

Chapter One: Sister

First Prev

Soft burbling pulls Haldana from slumber. Her eyes drowsily blink open against the gentle light pushing through the curtains. She rouses fully when the mattress dips as Aerick climbs out of their bed. She peers through her lashes to watch him sluggishly trail across the room and pick up their daughter, who lifts her arms into the air as soon as he nears her.

“Good morning, dove,” he coos, pressing his nose into her sparse blonde hair. “Let’s go outside before we wake Mama.”

“Too late,” Haldana grouses fondly, pushing herself out of bed. She slips on a robe before treading over to her husband and child. “Come here,” she growls playfully as Aerick slips Sigyn into her arms. Holding her up in the air, Haldana smacks kisses all over her face as she squeals.

As Aerick begins to dress for the day, she steps out into the hall. Helga, Sigyn’s nursemaid, greets her there, taking Sigyn into her own arms. “Good morning, my lady,” says, curtsying respectfully. “Do you need the little one today?”

“Yes, I am breaking fast with the king this morn, and his favorite subject is invited.” She runs a finger along Sigyn’s cheek before dropping her voice an octave. “After that, she will spend the rest of the day with my parents.”

Helga’s eyes dart to the open doorway behind her. “Very well, my lady. I shall dress her up nicely for you.” After sparing Haldana another curtsy, she heads to the nursery, Sigyn peering over her shoulder as she goes.

Haldana returns to her bedroom with her chin up, ignoring her husband’s hard stare. “You did not inform me of your plans to send our daughter to your parents,” he accuses.

“I needn’t inform you of anything,” she returns, digging into her closet for a dress for the day. She settles on a knee-length dress, seeing as how she plans on a rigorous sparring session with Volstagg and Fandral in the afternoon. Getting back into shape after a pregnancy is no small feat.

She lays the dress on the bed as she beats a hasty retreat into the bathroom for a shower. She spends more time that she may need to under the warm spray of water, hoping that when she returns to the bedroom to dress, Aerick will have forgotten their brief spat.

No such luck. “You know I do not trust your father with her,” he rebuts, reviving their conversation whence Haldana had naively thought she had left it to die.

“You catastrophize,” she says dismissively, not wanting to wade into another blow-out on the topic. She drops the towel and pulls her dress on over her head. “My father has never harmed Sigyn.”

“Of which Sigyn do you speak,” he returns coolly.

Keep Reading

#sigyn #loki x sigyn #sigr edda #se #ch1 #p4 #thor #thor ff #logyn #marvel #marvel ff

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bebx · 2 months

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nothing against Pedro Pascal, I love him, but for me, Ioan Gruffudd will always be the iconic, most perfect Reed Richards and no one else can play him like Ioan does.

that being said, it would be super great to see Ioan as Reed again where he teamed up with Pedro’s Reed and John Krasinski’s Reed (so we had 3 Reed Richards variants from different timelines).

also credit to @doseofthreecuties , thank you for putting these photos together. our Reed Richards ♡

#ioan gruffudd #reed richards #fantastic four #mister fantastic #pedro pascal #john krasinski #marvel #fantastic 4 #mr fantastic #deadpool 3 #deadpool #wade wilson #mr. fantastic #ff #f4 #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #kevin feige

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fruitreka · 2 months

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PLIGHT OF THE BODYSNATCHER: THE (NEW AND IMPROVED) DOUJINFICATION

Fantastic Four #10 (1961): Doctor Doom switches his body for Reed Richard's, with the intent to steal his life.

[ Also on AO3! ]

#doomreed #doctor doom #reed richards #victor von doom #fantastic four #marvel comics #marvel #ff #mr fantastic #dr doom #fan comic

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amasterpieceofmadness · 3 months

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museum – bucky b.

parings Bucky Barnes x reader

summary Bucky and you visit the museum as it won’t stop raining. As you are looking through the exhibition you stumble across an old picture of him and Steve…

warnings established relationship, mentions of Bucky’s past, fluff

word count 1k

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“I want to go to the history exhibition first” You announce as you take a close look at the museum plan.

Bucky just nods, giving you a soft smile “Sure, whatever you want, doll”

It’s been raining for 3 days and it’s getting really boring in the compound with not much to do there. So, Bucky had the idea to spend a day at the museum. And this is where you two are right now. You walk through the halls together, looking around curiously. The exhibition is impressive and Bucky’s hand rests at the small of your back as you look through the displayed items together.

As you enter the next room you find yourselves in an exhibition of World War 2. You take a look at Bucky, who is already looking around a bit stunned and speechless. “We can skip it, if you want” You suggest but Bucky quickly shakes his head.

“No, it’s fine. Don’t worry, doll” he shoots you one of his handsome smiles and you return it as you both start to roam through the exhibit.

You are looking through some old medals and pictures displayed. As you are searching for Bucky you can find him in front of a showcase, so, you step closer to get a better look. “Is that…?”

“Yes,” Bucky nods “it is.” You are looking at the old uniform of none other than Captain America. It’s pretty different from the tactical suit Steve wears nowadays on missions. The one from back then is more like a suit for theatre, which is not surprising considering what he had to do at that time. The suit looks worn out a bit, the red and white stripes still bright though.

This part of the exhibition shows the life of Steve Rogers back than as a national hero. As you continue to admire the uniform Bucky looks around. He comes to a stop in front of a wall full of old letters and pictures. You come closer too and notice his changed expression. He looks deep in thought, a bit nostalgic and wistful even. He is looking at an old picture of young Steve right before going to war. Next to him is a young man with short dark hair, wearing the same military uniform as Steve.

“Is that… you?” You ask in utter disbelief. Bucky doesn’t respond, only gives you a short nod. He can’t tear his eyes away from this picture. Under it is a short description, quoting “Steven Rogers and his friend James Barnes, one day before departure, 1943. It is the last picture of James Barnes before his death 3 days later”. To say you are shocked is an understatement. Of course, for the world this soldier was just a number, lucky enough to be friends with Americas national hero, who died 70 years ago.

But he is still here, right next to you. You cannot believe that this is a picture of young Bucky. He must be around 26 years old on it. And even though you can see in his eyes that he has been through a lot since then, he still has the same cute smile. A wave of emotions rushes over you as you continue to look at this picture and the description. Their life was so differently, and yet, somehow they both ended up in a reality that shouldn’t exist for the both of them. And you don’t even want to imagine what they had to endure over all this time.

Your breathing starts to get shaky and tears dwell in your eyes. You then feel a hand on your shoulder, comforting you. It’s Bucky. He is no longer looking at the picture, his eyes are focused solely on you. There’s concern in his face. “What’s wrong, doll?”

You simply shake my head, taking a deep breath. You shouldn’t be the one who needs comfort right now. Instead, you should be the one who comforts him, as this is for sure not easy for Bucky. “Nothing” You give him a forced smile.

Bucky tilts his head, not believing you. “Don’t dwell on the past. I’m still here” He whispers the last part and pulls you into a soft hug. Your arms wrap around him immediately and you burry your head into the crook of his neck. “I’m still here…” He repeats his words, talking more to himself than to you, which shows just how much he is dwelling on the past right now, even though he tells you not to.

Before you pull apart Bucky presses a soft kiss to your forehead and looks into your eyes, still concerned. “Everything okay, doll?”

You nod and peck his lips with yours quickly. “Yes, how about you?”

His smile grows a bit. “Of course. If all those things didn’t happen, I wouldn’t be here with you now”

His words make you smile as well, and he takes your hand softly in his before you walk out of the exhibition together, taking one last look at the picture. You spend the whole evening sitting on the couch together in the compound, Bucky talking about his life before war, before Hydra, and you listen closely to every single detail. And even though not all memories are good ones, his infamous smirk returns to his lips every now and then.

A/N Here is my complete masterlist with all the ff, imagines, oneshots, smut and whatever. Check it out and leave a like :)

#mcu bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes ff #bucky barnes fluff #winter soldier #captain america #mcu imagine #40s bucky barnes #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #marvel x reader

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ichorai · 5 months

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airbag ; steve rogers.

track one of OK COMPUTER.

pairing ; steve rogers x reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; five time steve tries to propose to you, and one time he actually does.

words ; 4.3k

themes ; fluff, mild angst, kind of avengers tower au?

warnings / includes ; mentions/descriptions of injury, alcohol, lots of lovesick fluff, rest of avengers are mentioned, natasha and tony Meddling, reference to spider-man & sandman :)

main masterlist.

Steve considered himself a romantic of sorts. Call him old-fashioned, but he liked bringing you flowers, he liked taking you to the theater, and he liked walking you home—all the way up to your door and listening for the lock, so he knew you’d be safe in there.

It was only fitting how cliché it felt when he realized he was in love with you. Firework-igniting kisses and butterfly-filled tummies and face-splitting grins. Everything described in those movies you enjoyed watching—but so much more.

Steve Rogers wasn’t a man to waste time. After all—enough of that had been done while he was frozen in the ice. If he was going to start something, then he was most definitely going to go all the way and finish it, too.

Almost immediately after your first anniversary, he bought a ring. It was simple and classic, maybe a bit out of style but hey, you seemed to be into that. You were dating a century-year-old.

It was December then, soft snow lining the streets and piling upon naked tree branches. During the drive to the fancy restaurant he’d found (courtesy of Tony), there were children building snowmen and sledding down shallow hills. You smiled watching them, eyes rife with fond warmth, and Steve knew then that he had to do it. He had to propose to you tonight.

Inside, you wouldn’t stop telling him how underdressed you felt, but Steve reassured you by saying a simple, “You look perfect, I promise.”

And he wasn’t lying. You did look perfect to him.

Dinner consisted of several decadent courses, with the waiters serving platters the two of you could barely even pronounce. It was delicious, nonetheless, and the chef had even come by to shake the hand of the Captain America.

During the last course—a silken slice of chocolate cake for dessert—Steve slipped his hand into his suit’s pocket, the velvet box smooth beneath his fingers. He replayed the question over and over again in his head, rehearsed a million times prior to the dinner.

Will you marry me?

And just as he was about to pull the ring box out, another diner pushed his chair back just far enough to accidentally knock into a waiter passing by, holding a plate of spaghetti. Completely sauced, to top.

To Steve’s horror, the plate tipped, almost in slow motion, and fell with a wet, splattering noise all over your outfit. You’d let out a small yelp of surprise, the spaghetti was hot, but not enough to burn. Steve stood up a second too late, hand falling away from his pocket as he rounded the table and placed it on your shoulder, asking if you were okay.

“I’m okay,” you told him gently, reaching over to grab a few napkins at the center of your table.

You didn’t get mad, of course you didn’t—it was part of the reason Steve loved you so much—instead, you were kind and patient, reassuring the flustered waiter that it was alright. “Mistakes happen,” you said. Another waiter came by a few minutes later with a few damp cloths so you could wipe the rest of the spaghetti sauce off.

Needless to say, the chef insisted that the meal was on the house that night, much to Steve’s chagrin.

The drive back home smelled of marinara sauce and oregano, but the heavy weight in his chest at the failed proposal seemed to lighten when you joked about how the five course meal ended up being six.

Natasha knew about the ring. Steve wasn’t quite sure how—he’d never explicitly told her—but then again, he wasn’t surprised. Nat seemed to always just know things from the smallest of details. It was why she made such a brilliant spy.

“So,” she’d said once she stumbled across from Steve in the Avenger Tower’s lavish gym, a sly grin stretching over her lips, “when are you popping the question?”

There was a pause to his movements—the dumbbell he’d been curling hovered in the air, his muscles tensing. He thought about it for a little longer, considering asking her how she knew but—he seemed to sense that Natasha would wave it away with a laugh and a light, “A magician never reveals her secrets.”

Instead, he told the red-head, “I’m working on it.”

Natasha leaned against a treadmill, arms crossing over her chest. The smile on her face seemed to grow even wider. “Uh-huh. How long have you had the ring?”

Steve resumed doing his reps. The burn felt nice, even if it was only barely there. “Long enough.”

There was a soft tenderness to Natasha’s eyes, and she bumped a fist into his bicep. “Take Y/N hiking. Far away from the city, where it’s quiet.”

Again, Steve paused his exercise. Slow, he put the weights down, thinking over her words.

“That’s actually—that’s a good idea, Nat.”

“Of course it is.” There was a knowing glint in her eyes.

“Thanks, really. I just want things to be perfect.”

She dipped her head once, before climbing onto the treadmill. “Send pictures. I’ve got a bet going on—Clint would want proof.”

Steve spared her an amused roll of his eyes. With a wave and a hurried goodbye, Steve rushed out of the gym to take a quick shower. The weather app on his phone (that he took an embarrassingly long time to find) told him the skies were going to be clear that afternoon—perfect for hiking.

Maybe, hopefully, perfect for proposals.

Half an hour later, you were ready to go, too, bouncing on the balls of your feet excitedly.

“I packed us sandwiches.”

“Did you? Oh, great—thanks, honey. We could have them as an early dinner.” He rubbed your shoulder and nudged you into the car.

“I packed a bunch of snacks, too.”

Steve arched a brow. “Like?”

“Gummy worms, popcorn, chips, cookies. Oh, and Wanda actually made something for us, I’m not really sure what it is, but it smelled nice—”

Your words died away when Steve laughed, loud and chesty. Of course you’d pack just about the entire pantry. How you managed to stuff all of that into your travel backpack with room to spare was beyond him. You couldn’t help but break out into an infectious smile when he leaned forward to kiss you on the forehead.

The drive out of the city to the hiking trail was long, and you nearly dozed off if not for the road getting progressively bumpier the closer you got.

The sun was high in the sky by the time you arrived. You slipped out of the car with a pleased hum and stretched out your limbs, ready to get the hike over and done with. You might’ve been dating a superhuman, but you had no powers of your own. The pressure to keep up was something always in the back of your mind.

And that’s how the hike went—you were determined to stay on par with Steve, no matter how grueling the terrain became. Even when he suggested a break to have some of the many snacks you’d packed, you tossed him your bag and kept trekking on—you were worried that if you stopped, you would never get back up again.

Really, you shouldn’t have overexerted yourself this quickly—the two of you were barely halfway done with the trail. Your feet were starting to drag, and your pace grew staggered. Just as you turned around to face your boyfriend and ask for a breather, your foot caught on a tree root that poked up above the trail’s surface, and you stumbled forward.

Thankfully, Steve’s quick reflexes came in handy, and he darted forward to grab you before you could go rolling down the steep hills.

He tugged you close into his chest, not yet registering your wince of pain. “Are you okay? That was a close one!”

When you pulled away, you gingerly tried to test your wait on the foot, but quickly lifted it back up with a grimace. “Oh, God. I think I’ve rolled my ankle.”

Steve stiffened, glancing further up the trail. It was maybe another two hours, but that was only with two fully-functioning pairs of legs.

The proposal would have to wait another day, then.

He cupped your face, soft and gentle. “Wrap your arms around my neck from behind. I’ll carry you down to the car.”

“You sure, Stevie? I can try hopping down on one foot.” You tried to demonstrate, but nearly lost your balance again. All the jostling sent bolts of pain down your foot, which surely wasn’t a good sign, either.

He snorted, huff-laughing, other hand slipping over your waist to keep you still. “I’m sure. Come on.” He leaned down expectantly.

Relenting, you wrapped your arms over his shoulders and hooked the inside of your thighs over his waist, careful to keep your injured foot extended so it wouldn’t bump into him. It was beginning to throb.

“‘M sorry,” you mumbled, resting your cheek over his shoulder, one of your hands lifting to toy with his short, blonde hair. He began to walk down, and you tried your best to ignore the pain in your ankle. “Ruined our hiking trip. I was so excited.”

“It’s okay, honey. It was an accident! We can always go another time. Maybe a different trail, though.”

You apologized again, the whole way down, in fact, despite his assurances that he wasn’t at all tired. He really wasn’t—barely broke a sweat during the descent. Besides, he quite liked the feeling of your holding so tight onto him, your nose pressed into the side of his neck, your soft laughter brushing over his skin in one moment, your slight winces in the next.

“I love you,” you whispered, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

He felt a shiver traverse down his back, and briefly wondered if you felt it, too.

“I love you, too. That tickles, though.”

Your laugh was abrupt and ever so heart-warming. “Sorry.”

The movie, you’d told him, was a cult classic from the seventies. Steve couldn’t really remember what it was called. Callie? Cassie? It was an awful lot of blood. The arm he had wound over your shoulder squeezed you every time someone screamed in the film—which was… startlingly often.

Proposing in the middle of a gorey movie wasn’t exactly the romantic vision Steve had in mind, but since the previous attempts really didn’t work in his favor, he wondered if keeping it casual was the best way to go. So when you asked if he could come over for an abrupt movie night, he readily agreed—and brought the small, velvet ring box with him.

It was tucked safely in the pocket of his slacks, on the side you weren’t pressed up against. The weight was a constant reminder of what he wanted to ask you—occupying his mind away from the movie he should’ve been paying attention to.

He’d propose once the credits started rolling. Yes, that’d be best, right? Wouldn’t want a horrified scream interrupting his profession of undying love to you.

And so he watched. He watched and watched, absentmindedly wondering what on earth the movie was even about. He dragged his knuckles up and down your arm. When a particularly gruesome scene unfolded, Steve glanced over at you.

To his surprise, your features were softened with sleep, only barely illuminated by the crimson glow from the television, your lips slightly parted and eyes shut.

With gentle movements, Steve reached over to guide your head onto his shoulder. Your hair tickled his cheek, and he let out a soft puff of a sigh before smiling. He kissed your temple, nose resting over your forehead.

The proposal would have to wait another day.

Tony’s parties were always an affair that Steve looked forward to. He wasn’t a party-goer by any means, but he found that the grand events were a great way for him to catch up with all his colleagues, acquaintances, and work associates he otherwise wouldn’t have spoken to for months to come.

And, of course, your excitement always seemed to rub off on him. You were buzzing about the room with what looked like twenty different outfits hanging off of your arms, holding them between you and the mirror with a scrutinizing look.

“Tucked or untucked?” you asked, more to yourself than him. He wasn’t given the chance to respond, anyway, since you chucked the shirt somewhere behind you and promptly started looking for another.

When you’d finally settled for appropriately formal attire, and Steve slipped into a button-up dress shirt (which was his one and only option, much to your envy), the two of you set off for Tony’s.

The party was already in full swing by the time you got there. Steve wasn’t entirely sure what the event was for—an anniversary or birthday, maybe? Fundraising gala? A celebration of some sort of scientific breakthrough Steve couldn’t even begin to comprehend? It was always a toss-up with Tony.

You were greeting people here and there, stopping to chatter amicably about what you’ve been up to, how work was going, the latest shows you’ve been catching up with…

And then you kissed his cheek and told him you were going to go grab some drinks. Steve watched you go with fond eyes. You looked incredible tonight.

A hand on his shoulder jolted him out of his reverie, and Tony Stark’s smug face came into view.

“Enjoying the party?” he asked, sly and knowing. What did he know?

“Hey, Tony. We only just got here. What’s all this for, by the way?” Steve crossed his arms and glanced around for any telltale signs.

A smirk flitted across his expression. “Just thought we all needed a bit of social activity pumped into the team. It’s a great place to… get your courage up, hm?” Tony smiled, and Steve narrowed his eyes.

“Did Natasha tell you?”

Tony snorted. “We all know.”

“Great.” Steve slid his hand into his pocket and traced the smooth grooves of the ring box. “Is everyone expecting me to propose tonight?”

“No, pfft—we don’t want to pressure you or anything…” Tony pointedly glanced at a stage conveniently placed front and center of the room. “But if you need some, what should I call it… assistance, the stage is all yours to use.”

Steve balked. Proposing at a party was one thing, but proposing on a stage in front of hundreds of people was completely out of the question.

Or was it?

“I’m not going to propose on a stage. That’s more your style.”

With a shrug, Tony rolled his eyes. “I mean, Pepper hasn’t left me yet, has she?”

Steve chose not to grace him with a response, but frown-smiled when Tony grabbed a flute of champagne and shoved it into his hands. He was gone the next second, off to greet a new round of guests.

Thirty seconds later, you appeared by his side, positively beaming, but slightly out of breath. There were two chilled glasses clutched in your hands, almost sloshing over with how quickly you bounded to him.

“Oh, you already got a drink?” you asked, grinning. You clinked both glasses against his, chiming, “Cheers!”

And as you were downing the sugary alcohol in your right hand, Steve ran a finger along the ring box again.

Maybe… maybe it really wasn’t a bad idea. He looked back at the stage. There was a microphone stand on there. Has it been there since the beginning?

He turned his head back to you, and you told him about Banner inviting the two of you over for dinner some time. Just as he was about to reply, his phone started buzzing in his other pocket. Deftly, Steve slipped his hand away from the box and went to pick up the phone—Sam’s caller ID staring up at him.

His friend’s voice sounded strained through the phone, and Steve gripped your hand and led you to a more quiet hallway, away from the crowd and the thrum of music.

Sam hurriedly told him that there was trouble downtown—something about Spider-Man and a very sandy guy.

“Sandy?”

“Yeah. Dude’s made of sand.”

“Oh.” Steve paused, brows furrowing. “I’ll be there in twenty. Can you keep it together till then?”

“Don’t have another choice, do I, Cap?”

With that, Sam hung up. Steve looked to you, crestfallen.

“Honey, I gotta go.”

Your voice was light and airy, despite your slightly crestfallen and confused countenance. “Sam’s in trouble?”

“Yeah. I’ll—” There was an uncertain pause. Steve leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I’ll see you at home. I love you.”

Your brows pulled together. “I love you, too. Stay safe, Steve.”

It was something you just had to accustom yourself to—when your boyfriend was a superhero, his priorities encompassed far more than you. But you understood, as you always did, and let him hurry away with a stiff lip.

The hospital was packed. Claustrophobically dense. You hurriedly wove through the crowd of anxious people hovering around the information desk, having already gotten the text which room Steve was in.

A few twisting hallways later, you pushed through a door and just about collapsed with relief when your eyes landed on Steve.

He was badly bruised. Hues of deep purple and faint blues were blossomed all over his face. One of his eyes was swollen, his sandy-blonde hair was tousled, and his bottom lip was split. He was wearing a hospital gown, and you felt nauseated wondering just what other injuries he was hiding beneath the fabric.

But he was alive. That was the least you’d hoped for.

Tears pricked your eyes, and you only then registered that Bucky was there, standing by the bed, expression grim and steeled. His blue eyes darted away from his best friend’s face to meet yours.

“I’ll give you two some space,” he murmured with a tight edge to his voice. Bucky patted your shoulder and whisked off before you could say anything.

“Steve?” you croaked, drawing nearer to the bed. Your throat felt tight. “Oh, God…”

Despite his entire face aching, Steve managed to tug one of the corners of his lips up into a meager smile. “Hey, honey.”

His voice sounded hoarse and overused, but was still utter music to your ears. You just about collapsed onto the side of the bed, reaching out to gently brush the back of your shaking knuckles over what little of his face wasn’t bruised.

“I heard what happened on the news,” came your tearful whisper. “I was so worried you…”

Something softened within the blue of his eyes. “I’m still here.”

You dipped forward to press a soft kiss to his forehead, and his tired eyes slid shut.

“Has a doctor checked on you yet? Any permanent damage I have to look out for?” You pulled away so you could roam your eyes over his form once more.

“Just a few bruises. Bone fractures. Nothing I can’t recover from,” he replied, though he winced when he tried to shift and sit more upright. You placed a hand on his back and helped him move, cautiously slow.

“Take it easy, old man,” you warned. “Don’t want you to pop a hip.”

Steve wheezed out what seemed like a laugh. Then, his eyes darted to the bedside table, where some spare clothes were neatly packed in a bag. Bucky had brought them, making sure to hide the ring box safely underneath a few layers.

Should he? Now, when he had the chance?

“I have something to ask you…” he began, tentative, dragging his eyes back onto you. You tilted your head pointedly, beckoning for him to go on.

Just as he was about to say the words, there were three rapid knocks to the hospital room’s doors and they creaked open immediately after, two nurses shuffling in, clipboards in hand.

“Hello, just here to run a few more check-ups!” one of them chirped. “It’s not often we get a super admitted in here.”

Steve just about physically deflated. Your brows kinked, and you patted his cheek fondly.

“I’ll come by later—gonna go see if Sam is okay. You should rest, Stevie. Love you.” With one final kiss to his cheek, you got up from his bed and made space for the bustling nurses. He barely managed to lift his hand to wave you goodbye before you hurried out of the room, back into the packed hallways.

A month had drifted by since he wound up in the hospital (and discharged the very next day). It was pleasantly breezy that day—gusts of wind tousling his now-overgrown hair and whistling sweetly in your ears.

Steve bent at the waist to place the bouquet of flowers down in front of the headstone. If it were any windier, he was sure it would’ve blown away. But it stayed put, the petals only barely swaying to and fro, and he righted himself back up.

“Sarah Rogers,” you whispered, eyes trailing across the smooth grooves of her name indented into the slab, voice thick with fondness. “What did she look like?”

Your arm wounded over the small of his waist. The two of you had visited the cemetery a few months prior, where you helped him scrub all the moss and dirt from her headstone. He told you about many of his adventures with Bucky before his time frozen in the ice, but very little about his mother.

A wistful smile touched the corner of his face. Now fully healed, much to your relief.

“She was blonde. Blue eyes. Crow lines, I think. Really faint, but they appeared every time she laughed.” There was a nostalgic warmth to his tone.

“Took after her, then.” You beamed down at the grave. “She must’ve been beautiful.”

Steve leaned into your grasp and kissed the very top of your head. “She was. She would’ve loved you, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“She would’ve thought you were perfect. She saw a lot of terrible things in her lifetime, but you—you would’ve made her laugh a lot.” A pause. The wind hummed a disjointed tune. “She always believed in me, even though she was terrified for me all the time. Worried herself sick. If only she knew I’d end up here…”

Your head landed on his bicep. “She knows. She knew from the very beginning.”

The blonde smiled at you again, and you couldn’t help but notice his crow lines, too. It was comforting to know that there was so much of his mother in him.

“You ready for lunch?”

“I’m starving.” you told him, before blowing a chaste kiss to the headstone. “See you soon, Mrs. Rogers.”

Steve began to lead you away, and he couldn’t seem to scratch the smile from his lips. The two of you started walking back home, taking your sweet time. You were saying something—something about a nice lasagna you had frozen in the fridge—

But Steve could barely hear any of it. He couldn’t hold it back anymore. He had to tell you now.

“I love you,” he interrupted. The words died on your tongue and you regarded him curiously, as if he’d grown a second head.

Apparently, there was a near manic look to his eye that prompted you to worriedly query, “Is something wrong, Steve—?”

Instead of answering, Steve stopped walking. He dropped down onto one knee, brandishing the ring box from his pocket, flicking it open. The realization broke across your features just a second later. Your eyes widened, and you reared back in shock.

And the words—the words just came tumbling out. Not at all what he’d scripted for months on end, but something entirely different. Something raw and unfiltered—purely from his heart. “I love you, more than I can ever put into words. You’re just—amazing, perfect in every goddamn way. I don’t want to go another day without calling you mine. I want to be yours, honey. All of me, every single bit of me, with all of you. It’s been an honor being your boyfriend. Really, it has, but I’m… I’m ready to be your husband, if you’ll have me. Will you marry me?”

There were tears pricking the corners of your eyes. You were only but a streak of color before you were yanking him forward, practically burying his face against your chest. He didn’t care that there was a rock digging into his knee. Barely even felt it.

The next moment, you were pulling away to yank him back up, kissing him like he was the very air you needed to breathe.

“Is that a yes?” he asked against your lips, slightly muffled. He was smiling, because he already knew your answer.

You nodded into the kiss, refusing to pull away. “I’d marry you a million times over, Steve. Again and again and again, until you get sick of me.”

“Could never get sick of you,” he whispered, forehead leaning over yours. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The two of you broke apart minutes later, reluctantly, though you had permanent smiles etched across your faces the entire way back home. The ring fit you perfectly.

When the news broke to the rest of the Avengers, they all erupted into an array of groans and cheers, and multiple wads of cash were passed around. Natasha sent the two of you a pleased wink. You two just landed her a combined total of a hundred bucks, but some secrets were simply better left unsaid.

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moonstruck-poet · 1 year

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