Anonymous asked:
just kidding holy fuck i found it in your rec list. god bless. have a great week ~
:) glad you found it! you too my dear <3
Reblogged
ireallyshouldbedrawing
Somehow Tony Starks from different universes ended up in one but they worked it out and were able to go home and a few Tonys got a long really well, including 3490!Natasha and 616!Tony maybe and they promised to keep in touch (secretly obviously). And then it was Natasha’s wedding day and she asked if the other Tonys could ‘be there’ for her and this one Tony holed himself up in his lab to ‘attend’ the wedding and he was happy for Natasha but so jealous at the same time and he was so overwhelmed that he didn’t hear Steve, who just got back from a mission, came in.
SUNDAY MORNING FANFIC HURRAH
Title: Monitor Rating: PG Warnings: None Summary: Tony attends a wedding; Steve starts making a little space.
Steve was tired, and he really should change out of his uniform after the mission, and he was also verging on starving – he hadn’t eaten since dinner the night before, and the early-morning mission had been minor but time-consuming. He’d like to stuff his face and change.
But he’d come into the mansion to the news that Tony had holed himself up in his lab on a no-entrance order, and that was rarely a positive thing.
ireallyshouldbedrawing
Just found out that I still have this in my draft. I might have swooned? plenty??! I love how calm, easy and low key the getting together is (Tony was probably internally freaking out but anyway). and Steve carries handkerchiefs in his belt apparently and ROLLERSKATES. Love it. Thanks Sam
For a good several seconds, the whole cafeteria is rendered into shocked silence.
Not due to Steve punching someone- that’s a regular occurrence. Everyone would be more surprised if Steve went a week without punching someone.
The surprise stems from the unexpectedness of it. Generally by the time Steve punched someone, there would already be a crowd forming as Steve’s unsmiling politeness started to degenerate into steely words that always came before he raised his fists.
But seconds earlier, Steve had come out of absolutely nowhere and delivered a surprisingly hard punch to Justin Hammer’s cheek, hard enough to knock him over onto the linoleum.
In the silence that fell, Steve had told him: “Try saying that again. I dare you.”
Next to him, Tony had stared at the space where Justin Hammer had just been speaking to him, then his gaze transferred to Steve.
And now here he is, caught between what the fuck was that for and more simply what the fuck.
“We were in the middle of a conversation,” Tony says, keeping his voice level as he attempts not to convey how confused he is.
Steve, the bastard, looks at Tony like he’s the weird one.
Reblogged aeranor
@brandnewfashion wanted something domestic. So here is a brief post-battle routine. No plot, no angst, no porn.
****
The Quinjet touched down without even a bump and Steve silently thanked everyone involved that Carol had gotten to the controls before Clint or Peter. Neither was a bad pilot, necessarily, but neither was an especially gentle one either. And they were all banged up enough as it was.
“All right, good job team.” He waved them on as the doors opened, gestured the rest of the team out ahead of him. “Debrief in the morning, I think we could all use the down time.”
Clint groans as he levers himself up out of his seat. “I love you, man.”
Jess Drew elbows past him as he stretches. “Stop blocking the aisle, birdboy. There is a hot tub with my name on it and you’re slowing me down.”
Tony, who has been sitting with his head on Steve’s shoulder for the last three hours and made no move to sit up yet, makes a nearly obscene sound. “Hot tub.”
Reblogged
winterstar95-deactivated2023110
Anonymous asked:
Steve/Tony, with prompt #2 :)
Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and hangs his head. This is never going away. This is worse than the whole language business. At least he was able to sweep that under the carpet with the whole Ultron fiasco. Tony could say nothing after that disaster changed the actual landscape of Europe. But this, this is never going away - ever.
“Seriously? Are you fucking serious?” Tony says and he’s jumping along the plastic seats that happen to be the colors of putrid and yuck - if those had colors. He hates the inside of this place.
“Yes, seriously,” Steve says, because maybe, just maybe if he admits to it quickly, this whole scene will be over.
“Come on, this cannot be true. Captain America, really?” Tony starts to balance on the thingy that spits out the balls - those huge heavy balls that shouldn’t be that heavy to him but always feel like he’s tossing a hunk of lead.
“Yes, Tony, can we get on with it.”
“I picked you for my team because I thought you would be good.”
“And here I thought you picked me because you loved me,” Steve says and folds his arms across his chest. This was just supposed to be a quick fun team outing and now everyone is going to know, everyone is going to find out. He needs Tony to stop and listen to him. “You need to teach me, otherwise we are both going down in flames.”
“Before we do,” Tony says and hops off of the ball return and stands in the middle of the alley where the little red arrows are painted on the highly polished wooden floor. He stares at Tony’s shoes, they’re ridiculous and stupid and he hates it here.
“What?” Steve says.
“Because,” Tony says and wraps his arms around his torso as if to keep his guts inside due to his violent laughter. “Because holy shit! I finally found something I’m better in than you!”
“There are a ton of things you are better at than I am, Tony,” Steve says and tries to keep his cool.
“Not physical, and not sports, but this-.”
“Barely qualifies as a sport.”
“Oh it does. Isn’t it an Olympic event? I have to look that up,” Tony says and spins in the alley as he digs out his phone. “Let’s find out if bowling is an Olympic event.”
“Stop, stop, stop,” Steve says. “Just stop and teach me.”
Tony frowns and giggles at the same time - Steve does not know how he manages. He reconsiders his phone, shoves it back in his pocket and then says, “Okay, get a ball and let’s see what you got.”
It is worse than Steve thinks it could possibly get. He can’t handle the ball. It’s TOO heavy. It makes no sense to his muscles. He can lift a damned motorcycle, he can throw his shield with precision, but a bowling ball?
“Fucking, fuck, fuck, fuck. how the hell can you be so bad?” Tony says as he watches the ball that Steve just threw roll into the gutter - two alleys away. Several of the other patrons of the bowling alley have stepped away from their games in fear. “How the fuck did you do that?”
Steve shrugs. “I don’t know.”
The team competition is two nights away. “I bet my Tower on this game, against Asgard, Steve. I could have won Asgard.”
“You really think Thor would let you win Asgard.”
“He’s a man or god or whatever of honor,” Tony says. “I could have been ruler supreme.”
Steve rolls his eyes. “I think that’s someone else.”
“Whatever,” Tony replies and shakes his head, hands on hips. “Let’s go over the basics. Like how not to throw a bowling ball like you’re going to kill a Nazi in the next alley.”
Two days later, Tony surrenders his keys to a demi-god, a spy assassin with lethal thighs, and his former personal assistant, and current CEO. He glares at Steve, and Clint.
Yes, this is worse than the whole language thing.
Anonymous asked:
Can I request Steve/Tony and number 6? And if at all possible can it feature asexuality? <3 <3 <3
“if you really want to, i’ll let you go”
****
“Asexual,” Tony repeated and Steve made himself smile instead of clenching his hands into fists.
“Yeah. It’s - I never really had a word for it before. But it’s accurate.”
Tony was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. He was still dressed for work in a crisp charcoal suit and a sapphire blue shirt that was almost, but not quite as vivid as his eyes. He’d loosened his tie at some point and he’d run his fingers through his hair a few times - probably when he opened his bedroom door to find Steve saying we should talk.
Reblogged
Anonymous asked:
stevetony high school au?
Steve sighed in relief when he noticedBucky approaching. “Hey, Bu-”
Any sense of relief was hastily replaced byannoyance when he got slapped in the back of the head and pointedly glared atas Bucky sat down at the cafeteria table, pulling the chair out moreaggressively than Steve thought possible.
“Um,” Steve said as Bucky stared holes intohim. “Ow?”
“The fuck is wrong with you,” Bucky said.
Steve blinked at him. Then, when Bucky didn’tsuddenly turn helpful: “’Scuse me?”
“The fuck,” Bucky repeated, “is wrong. Withyou. Rogers.”
“I-” Steve got promptly interrupted byanother slap on the head. “Okay, Christ,what.”
Bucky’s jaw bugled as he shifted it side toside. At sixteen, he had wasted no time hitting his growth spurt and fillingout as well as growing six inches upwards.
Steve had remained around five feet, narrowin every area that wasn’t groin related. And he didn’t advertise about thegroin bit.
“Heard Stark asked you out,” Bucky saidfinally, after far too long of judgemental staring.
Steve snorted and went back to picking athis lunch. The staff had given him a free pot of yoghurt along with his hotdog- Steve had a tendency to inspire people to either feed him or think him a nuisancefor picking so many fights he never won. The lunchladies tended to be leaningtowards the former, though the office ladies leaned for the latter, since healways sat around them while waiting for the Principal to talk to him about theconsequences of his last fight.
“What about it,” Steve said, trying for nonchalant.He probably didn’t execute it well, not that it mattered. Even if he was anational spy, he guessed Bucky would know every one of his tells.
True enough, Bucky slapped his shoulder andnot in a friendly way. More in a brotherly, you’re-so-goddamn-annoying-why-do-I-love-you-so-muchkind of way. “The guy’s been head over heels about you since freshman year,Steve.”
Steve laughed derisively into his yoghurt.It earned him another shoulder slap.
“I’m serious.”
The Jar (9728 words) by Sineala Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Adventures: Avengers Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark Characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Janet Van Dyne, James "Logan" Howlett, Peter Parker, Ororo Munroe, Bruce Banner, Pepper Potts Additional Tags: Bets & Wagers, Nicknames, Pet Names, Fluff, Team Dynamics, Community: cap_ironman, Cap-Ironman Bingo Summary:
The Avengers are ridiculously competitive people, and what starts out as a silly late-night team discussion quickly becomes a contest: their names. Not the code names -- the nicknames. Who can go the longest without using them? They pledge to spend a week not nicknaming each other, and they'll pay up every time they mess up. This hits Tony the hardest, and not just financially. Tony's got a lot of nicknames for everyone, but most of all for Steve -- and when Tony can't use the names he's already got, the names he uses reveal feelings he had no idea he had.
Reblogged tonystank
Anonymous asked:
"I thought you loved me" Steve/Tony
“I thought you loved me.” It comes out of Steve’s mouth sounding absolutely heartbreaking. The way he’s turned his head to look at Tony and the frown that mars his features only adds to the effect.
Everyone is watching Tony now rather than Clint’s victory dance, which was embarrassing to say the least.
Tony who is holding his controller up like it might save him from the cautious confusion and judgment from everyone in the room. Tony doesn’t feel guilty about it, he has no reason to because really they all know the rules by now. But that doesn’t mean Natasha won’t toss a pillow at him, or Clint won’t elbow Tony while exaggerating one of the turns.
“You are a dramatic asshole, Steve Rogers.” Tony grumbles.
“You blue-shelled me!” Steve gripes, his earlier heavy emotion gone. Instead he pouts like a child.
“There is no love in Mario Kart.” Sam pipes up from beside Tony.
Clint just snorts. “Guess you can’t be that pretty and lose well.”
“You don’t know the half of it buddy.” Tony answers and yelps when Steve pulls him over into his lap. “Oh no you stop pouting, I didn’t do anything wrong you big baby!”
Natasha starts the next race and they all ignore Tony and Steve’s discarded controllers as they bicker good-naturedly. No one is surprised when Steve says a hasty goodbye and Tony is literally dangling over his shoulder looking resigned to his fate.
“This is why we can’t have a game night, Steve.” Is the last they hear from Tony for the night.
*leans in close and whispers* Tony loves Steve. *flies off into the sun*
“Tony loves Steve,” Clint chanted in a sing-song voice as he ambled into the kitchen. He was dressed and wide-awake at six in the morning which meant he’d been up all night playing video games and was going to pass out as soon as he’d stuffed his face. Peter staggered in behind him, looking rumpled and nearly catatonic before nearly collapsing into the chair across from Bruce’s and laying his head down on the table which meant he’d let himself get talked into staying up all night playing video games with Clint.
Bruce pulled his plate closer to his chest and narrowed his eyes in warning.
Peter pouted.
Clint, as per usual, seemed unperturbed by the inherent threat of pissing him off and snatched a piece of toast off his place. “Tony and Steeeeeeve, sitting in a tree,” he sang, managing not to spew crumbs everywhere as he chewed. “F-U-C-K-I-N-G.”
“Make your own breakfast,” Bruce told him.
“First comes looooooove-”
“What is he doing?” Tony stood in the doorway, scowling fiercely at the empty coffeepot. His hair was sticking up like one of those troll dolls from the nineties and he was wearing a pair of silk pajama pants and one of Steve’s old Boston Marathon t-shirts. “Is he singing? Why is Clint singing before coffee? I thought we made a rule.”
Clint poured most of a box of Lucky Charms into a truly enormous bowl. “Then comes marriage-”
“Who is Clint marrying off in song and story?” Steve paused in the doorway long enough to drop a kiss on Tony’s head then stared digging through the fridge.
“You,” Clint said cheerfully. He reached around Steve for the container of chocolate milk and poured it liberally over his cereal. “I can’t figure out who’s in the baby carriage.”
Steve and Tony exchanged a glance and Bruce hid a grin behind his remaining piece of toast. “Peter,” they chorused in dual monotones.
“You guys all suck,” Peter mumbled into the table.
Clint clapped him on the back so hard he almost knocked him out of his chair. “Relax, Spider-Wimp, carriage comes after marriage and Mom and Dad are still living in sin.”
Steve put two sesame bagels in the toaster oven and handed Tony a glass of orange juice. “Marriage sounds good,” he said.
Bruce blinked. Clint paused with a heaping spoonful of cereal halfway to his open mouth. Peter picked his head up off the table.
Tony hummed as he drained the glass and handed it back. “Well, if the living in sin thing is bothering the kids.”
Steve took the glass and leaned in for a kiss. “Mmm. Tart. I’d want a priest.”
“I don’t have anything against priests.” Tony licked his lips. “I get to pick the honeymoon.”
The toaster dinged and Steve set the bagels on a couple of plates, handing one to Tony. “As long as you actually take time off from work, I don’t want to spend my honeymoon competing with your cell phone.”
“Deal.” Tony grabbed the cream cheese out of the fridge. “What are you thinking? Next summer?”
“Autumn,” Steve said. He hooked his foot around a kitchen chair and pulled it out from the table. “Autumn is a good time for an outdoor ceremony.”
“I’ll call Pepper after breakfast and we’ll figure out the best time for me to be gone for a few weeks.” Tony poured two more glasses of OJ and set them down as he took the seat next to Steve’s. “I’m not adopting Peter though.”
“I am an adult,” Peter said, his voice rising with each word.
“What just happened?” Clint asked Bruce, the chocolate milk from his cereal dripping on his pants. “Did I do that?”
“I think you did,” Bruce said. He slid his napkin across the table.
“I want an amazing ring,” Tony said. He had his head on Steve’s shoulder and his eyes were drifting shut, his bagel untouched on its plate. “Huge. It has to be prettier than Pepper’s. I want to blind the paparazzi with it.”
Steve kissed the top of his head. “Eat your bagel and we’ll talk.”
Clint heaved a heavy sigh and shoved his cereal in his mouth. “Who are we kidding, you’re already married.”
“We’ve been together for six years,” Steve said.
Bruce drained his tea and gathered his plate. “Just imagine. A honeymoon period six years in the making. And we have Clint to thank for it.”
Steve smirked. Peter whined at the table. Clint dropped his spoon and leaned around Peter to jab a finger in Steve’s face. “Oh no. No no no. Not again. Not an actual honeymoon. I’m not taking the fall for that. I quit. I’m joining the X-Men.”
“I already told Jan it was your idea,” Tony mumbled against Steve’s shoulder. He held up one hand to show his cell phone.
“Oh my god.” Clint stared at his cereal.
“This is why we have a rule against Clint singing before cereal,” Steve said.
Reblogged
Stony Prompt #12
“Take. This. Off.”
Steve doesn‘t consider himself a “kinky” man. The term (which he’s learnt from Tony, unsurprisingly) just implies too many weird things for him to be. He’s looked it up and the mere memory of what he saw brings a light blush to his cheeks. Are people really enjoying the stuff he’s found? It’s a bit hard to actually believe that. So really, Steve always argues whenever Tony calls him kinky in a mocking voice and insists that he’s rather tame, actually.
However, Tony doesn’t think so at all.
“Everyone has a dark side”, his boyfriend says one day as they laze around in bed. It’s early evening, but since Tony actually left the workshop and Steve had come to bed for a quick nap, neither of them feels the motivation to get out again. Steve looks up from the book he’s reading, blue eyes sliding over Tony’s form.
“I mean… there’s really nothing that gets you going and that you’re embarrassed to tell?”, Tony prods, a lazy smile on his lips. He’s sprawled out on his back, but rolls over to curl against Steve, pushing his nose against the blond’s neck. “Nothing that you like to look at when you’re alone, Captain…?” The whispered words make Steve shiver. “Nothing that, hm… that you imagine doing to me?”
He blushes because well, certainly there are some things Steve has thought of, but it’s nothing Tony hasn’t already let him do. Tony is shameless with the things he does in bed and it never fails to leave Steve breathless.
“Steeeve, come on! Answer me! There HAS to be something that you’re into!”
Steve gives him a look and shrugs. “Nothing, really. I’m happy as it is.” The brunet grumbles, unsatisfied with the answer, while Steve busies himself with his book again. But he knows this isn’t over yet – Tony is working on a plan.
Reblogged
for a prompt-- how about something where badly injured tony is trying to rescue steve, who, for whatever reason, is totally out of commission? alternately, something cuddly and fluffy where one of them is helping the other shower/groom because he's injured and can't do it himself. happy writing! :))
“It’s nothing,Steve, really,” Tony protested.
“That’s why youwore an unbuttoned shirt to your workshop in place of t-shirt?”Steve asked sweetly.
“And here Ithought you liked it,” Tony pouted.
He wasn’t exactlywrong, but Steve would appreciate the view a lot more if he knew itwasn’t because Tony couldn’t really raise move his arms enough tomanoeuvre into a t-shirt.
“I like it,”Steve admitted aloud. “I’ll like it even more if you let me helpyou out of it.”
Tony gets the tattoo for Steve. He wants it, obviously, he’s not an idiot, to get something permanently inked into his skin that he doesn’t actually want. It’s something he’s thought about since he was in college. Back then he’d been first too young - it doesn’t matter if you’re in grad school if you’re under eighteen, they won’t touch you without a parent or guardian present and Howard would have disowned him or worse - and then later he’d just never really gotten around to it.
And then Steve.
Steve had never been with a man before Tony (he suspects Steve’s never been with a women before, either, but they don’t talk about the fact that his boyfriend had been dating his godmother because that’s just weird, really). Tony is expecting Steve to be hesitant and uncertain in bed, not ashamed of himself but maybe struggling with his own desires. Internalized homophobia maybe, or just virgin nerves. He’s expecting almost anything except the way Steve pulls him down to the bed one night and proceeds to slowly and systematically fuck Tony so thoroughly that his legs don’t work properly until the next morning. He doesn’t expect the way Steve sucks dark bruises into Tony’s throat and belly and thighs. He doesn’t expect the way Steve holds him down and fucks into him with slow, deliberate strokes, breath coming in long pants, his voice a rumble like thunder against Tony’s ear with every thrust. “Mine.”
(Steve had kissed him awake the next morning and slipped inside him like Tony’s body had been made to take his cock, fucked him sweet and slow and whispered love in his ear until he made Tony come without being touched)
So the fact that Steve has something of a possessive streak comes as a pleasant surprise. It manifests mostly as protectiveness - Steve’s not the jealous sort, not any more than any other man - and a tendency to want to show off the fact that Tony is his now, especially when one of Tony’s exes is around. Tony, after careful consideration and several instances of breath-taking semi-public sex, decides that he is very much okay with this.
Steve likes marking him, too. Likes leaving bruises shaped like his hands on Tony’s hips, likes leaving hickeys that Tony’s business suits only barely cover. He likes to lie against Tony while their bodies are still locked together and the sweat is still cooling on their skin and suck at Tony’s throat until the flesh is hot and dark and the gentle brush of Steve’s tongue over his bruised skin makes Tony gasp.
(Tony likes it when Steve marks him, loves the way it feels when Steve lays claim to him, that Steve wants the world to know that Tony belongs with him. Sometimes he deliberately wears his collar open or his sleeves rolled up so the marks can be seen. He likes to wait until he can catch Steve’s eye in the kitchen or the gym or while they’re watching a movie and then he’ll press his fingers against one of Steve’s marks. Slide his hand down his chest or over his thigh, rest his palm on his hips and press so that the bruise aches so sweetly beneath his touch and Steve smiles at him with so much love and want and pride that it takes Tony’s breath away)
So he gets the tattoo. For Steve, who likes to see Tony marked. But also for Tony who likes to be marked, to be reminded in that visceral, physical way that he’s Steve’s. Nothing dramatic - just the shield pattern, the star done in a silver-white on a blue background, the red and white rings around it. It’s only about the size of a half-dollar, and he has it inked onto his right hip. Steve is in DC for two weeks, helping Falcon mop up a Hydra plot that sounds like something out of an old comic book and Tony has a business trip to the Malibu HQ to do quarterly reviews. And almost four weeks have passed with no more than phone calls and Skype sessions, and the tattoo on Tony’s hip has healed in vivid red and blue and silver on his skin.
Steve stops when he sees the tattoo. Freezes in place, his hands hooked in the waistband of Tony’s slacks, still tangled around his legs. He’s kneeling over Tony, his cock hard and flushed and already leaking and his eyes have gone dark in a way that Tony is intimately familiar with.
Tony reaches out, wraps his hand around the back of Steve’s neck and pulls him down. “Yours,” he breathes against Steve’s mouth.
Steve’s kiss steals the breath from his lungs, but instead of the hard and fast fucking Tony’s been fantasizing about for the last four weeks he finds himself spread out of on the bed while Steve takes him apart slowly and deliberately.
“Mine,” Steve says softly, almost reverently as he kisses every inch of Tony’s skin, strokes his hands down Tony’s sides like he’s gentling a skitish colt. “Yours,” Tony says breathlessly, tangling his hands in Steve’s hair as Steve swallows him inch by devastating inch. “Oh god, always yours.”
Steve kisses the tattoo while Tony is still shaking with orgasm, runs his tongue over it. “Is it?” He waits for Tony’s nod before he presses his thumb against it and rubs, watching the colored skin move. “Can I?”
“Anything,” Tony says. “It’s yours.”
Steve kisses him and he tastes like Tony still. “Did you want this?” he asks, their mouths barely parted, his voice a soft hush between then. “Did you do this because you wanted it or to make me happy?”
Tony leans up, takes a kiss that’s slow and deep. “I want it,” he said. He took Steve’s hand in his and pressed Steve’s palm against his hip, over the tattoo. “I want it. Knowing you’d want it too just made it better.”
The sound Steve makes is enough to make Tony’s cock twitch with renewed interest, and Steve takes their joined hands and wraps them around his cock.
Tony hums at the feel of Steve, hot and hard, skin so smooth beneath his fingers. Steve’s jerking himself off fast, Tony’s hand caught between both of Steve’s so he only feels Steve’s cock with the tips of his fingers but he doesn’t care. He squeezes Steve’s hand and Steve’s cock jumps in their grip.
He realizes what Steve’s after just as Steve orgasms, semen hitting Tony’s hip in thick, hot pulses.
Steve kisses him, breathless and sloppy, panting into Tony’s mouth. “Mine,” he says softly, running his hands through his come, rubbing it into Tony’s skin. He presses his fingers against the tattoo in deep massaging strokes as he kisses Tony again and again.
Tony holds Steve’s face between his hands and they breathe each other for long minutes while their hearts beat against each other and Steve’s hand covers his mark on Tony’s skin.
“Mine,” Tony says, just as he’s starting to drift off. He strokes his fingers over Steve’s cheek and smiles. Steve’s palm is hot against his hip, Steve’s heart is beating against his chest and Tony can still taste himself in Steve’s mouth. “Mine.”
“Always yours,” Steve agrees.
(Steve wakes him much later and fucks him half senseless against the shower wall. He doesn’t take his hand off the tattoo the entire time. Tony is inordinately pleased with himself for weeks.)