morethanastan

[morethanastan]

goddd i just want spider-man's identity to be his own worst but new york city's best kept secret. like i want him unthinkingly taking off his mask and like 20 people see, but if you ask them if they did? no they didn't.

the rule is unwritten, but very enforced. like, there are online communities dedicated to erasing any trace of the spread of his identity. a tourist takes a photo of him and posts it online? it's gone in minutes, and people send DMs to the poster anywhere from "hey, i'm sure you were just excited, but...." to "ill kill u if i evr c you, fuckin bitch".

any information on spider-man is only spread via word of mouth, and only spoken in hushed, awed voices. after several years of spider-man, everyone knows someone who encountered him:

"he saved my cousin. caught a falling billboard from underneath with his bare hands..."

"wow... i've never seen him myself, but he talked to my coworker's daughter for an hour after he stopped a guy from getting a little too handsy. apparently, his smile is 'dreamy'."

these secrets are freely given if you're kind, trustworthy, and show respect for the little guy. but the moment you demand information on him... "i don't know what you're talking about, buddy. he's just an urban legend the news likes to blame the city's problems on so we don't unionize or worse"

so as many times as spider-man ends up with out a mask, or accidentally introduces himself with a name that starts with 'p' and rhymes with 'meter'... on the record, they don't know a thing. because he does his best to help as many people as he can, so it's only fair if they help him a little in return.

[morethanastan]

This is my favorite celebrity headline of today

[morethanastan]

Title: Dollars to Donuts

Pairing: Good Dad Howard/Maria

Ohoho ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Dollars to Donuts

"Good morning, beloved," Maria murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to Howard's head.

Howard snorted awake, then let out a grunt, squinting around blearily. "Where am I."

"In the nursery, in the rocking chair, spoiling our son, like you have since we brought him home six months ago," Maria answered patiently. "I've brought you coffee."

Howard grunted again, hefting Tony further up his chest, before he settled back into the rocking chair, eyelids drooping.

"Don't fall asleep again," Maria scolded, but there was no heat in it. She prodded his shoulder. "Howard, come on."

"I was up with Tony half the night. Let me sleep," Howard growled.

Maria stared at him, mouth dropping open as she tried to figure out if she was offended or not. She looked at Tony, who was snuffling miserably, tear tracks still dried on his chubby cheeks. She sighed. "Give me the baby then. He needs breakfast, at least, even if you don't."

"Pry him from my cold dead hands," Howard growled.

Maria stared at him again, then turned, examining the room.

"Mrs. Stark," Jarvis said, managing to make it a reproachful bark and a baby-accommodating-whisper at the same time. "Put that high chair down immediately."

Maria mulishly set the chair down. It would have served Howard right to get hit with it, since it was her baby, too.

Jarvis continued frowning at her severely for a moment, then turned his attention to Howard, grabbing the cup of coffee she’d brought him and wafting it under his nose.

Howard jerked upright with another grunt, one hand supporting Tony's bottom as the other groped in front of his face. Jarvis carefully pressed the coffee into his hand, then turned and left the nursery.

"Give me the baby," Maria barked.

Howard looked like he was considering saying no, but thought better of it, letting her carefully take him from his arms. "I'm letting you have him because I want to, not because you scare me," he muttered petulantly.

Maria rolled her eyes, taking a moment to fuss with Tony's onesie before she gently kicked Howard in the shin. "Give me your wrist."

Howard held his arm out gamely and didn't flinch when she shook a few drops of formula onto his arm. "Feels just right."

"Good. Hopefully this will give him less gas and discomfort," Maria sighed. "And we can finally get some sleep."

"I don't mind sitting up with him at night," Howard muttered, watching as Tony began suckling at the bottle as if he hadn't just had a couple ounces two hours ago.

“I know,” Maria said, trying to sound stern, but even she could tell it came off as fond “But I’d like to have breakfast as a family someday. Can’t do that if you’re falling asleep in your eggs.”

“I would not fall asleep in my eggs,” Howard muttered mulishly. “I’d fall asleep in my toast.”

“And what sort of example would that set for Tony?” Maria continued, ignoring him before he could go off on a tangent about the comparable comfort levels of breakfast food. “Daddy staying up all night, falling asleep whenever he sat down. We want to teach our boy healthy habits, Howard.”

Howard spluttered, offended. “It’s not my fault that he has acid reflux and a dairy allergy!”

“I offered to take turns,” Maria pointed out. “And that was before you started just getting up and going to him. Howard, you’re still working! You need rest.”

“I don’t,” Howard muttered, still petulant.

“And you want the company in tip-top shape by the time Tony is a person instead of a little tortellino so that you can spend time with him then,” Maria added, a little louder so he could hear her over his sulking. “When he’s finally walking is when I’m really going to need your help.”

Howard frowned, immediately concerned. “You said your stitches healed up well. Are you having trouble walking? Should we make an appointme--”

“Howard, unfortunately, I can already see that Tony is taking after you,” Maria cut in. “I’m certain. I can tell. Dollars to donuts, this baby is going to grow to be someone who wanders off in thought. Or runs off to check something out that he’s curious about. Or holes himself up in his room for hours without food or drink so that he can get his thoughts down.”

“Oh no,” Howard said. “Maria. Four-year-olds are so much faster than forty-year-olds.”

“Yes,” Maria agreed. “Perhaps Jarvis and Ms. Carter can help you get into shape before Tony starts walking.”

Howard turned wounded eyes on her. “Maria, how could be be so coldhearted. Jarvis and Peggy will run me into the fucking ground.”

“You can only sprint ten feet now, and Tony will outpace you quickly. Maybe you should put your cigars away and focus on deep breathing,” Maria said, and Howard sighed miserably in response and slithered out if the rocking chair and onto the ground to sulk properly.

.-.

Maria only felt a little badly when Howard crawled into bed the next night with a whimper and moaned ‘everything hurts.’ She’d have to tell Jarvis to be gentle with him. Tony wouldn’t start walking for a few more months yet, after all. They didn’t need him running a ten minute mile immediately.

“I’ll speak with Jarvis,” she whispered, brushing his hair out of his eyes so she could press a kiss to his forehead.

Howard jerked back to glare at her, disgruntled. “No. I’m going to do it. You can’t fucking stop me I’m an adult.”

Maria sighed and sincerely hoped that her son would not be a contrarian like his father, but she knew she wouldn’t be that lucky.

[morethanastan]

Thor x tony, clothes thief

Thor/Tony 👀👀👀 I love

Clothes Thief

"Oh dear," Thor said when he arrived back at the tower to find Tony's clothes strewn about the common room. Steve was holding Clint on his shoulders in an attempt to pick a sock off the light fixture. "This doesn't bode well."

"Here's a list," Natasha said, handing him a notepad with a surprisingly long list of missing garments.

"Did he literally strip you of clothes you were wearing, or," Thor trailed off, grabbing the sheet of paper to tear it free only to find that the list continued onto a second piece. He flipped that over too. "Three pages?"

"Steve, Natasha, and I do our laundry together because we know if we don't, we won't fold it, and Tony's tired of pulling knives or Steve's shield out of the wall when we think our laundry chair is a demon in the night," Clint explained, ignoring the way Steve muttered violently at him when he made him bob and weave to keep him upright.

"In our defense, we thought he was in a business meeting," Natasha added, shrugging a little.

"A fourth page," Thor said sternly when he saw the list continued that far as well. "At this point, you deserve it."

"He bit Steve," Clint said.

Steve perked up and held up his arm, which still showed a dark, teeth-shaped welt on his forearm. "He's like a shark."

"You still deserve it," Thor muttered. "You should have done your laundry in one of your rooms."

"We thought he was in a business meeting," Natasha reminded him.

"That was your first mistake," Thor replied shortly. "A fifth page. I'm only going to half-heartedly find these or you."

Steve, Clint, and Natasha considered this. Finally, Natasha said, "Two pages would be enough."

"He stole all my socks," Clint added, letting out a cry of triumph once he finally swiped the sock down from the light fixture. "If you can't get any back, I'm keeping these pair. They probably cost more than all the ones I've bought, anyway."

Thor sighed, leafing through the list again. "I'll see what I can do," he said, frowning. His eyes lingered on the list for a moment before he looked back at Natasha.

"I understand I won't be getting all of it back, so he better be ready to take me lingerie shopping," Natasha told him firmly, and Steve tripped over a shirt that hadn't been stolen and he and Clint both toppled to the ground.

Thor and Natasha stared at them for a moment, but then Clint mumbled 'I'm okay' and Steve groaned loudly, so. It was probably fine. "Just so you know," Thor said before he turned to leave. "He was in a business meeting, which is why I wasn't here. So he definitely left it specifically to swoop in while you were folding clothes together."

"If Pepper shows up, I am jumping directly into the garbage chute," Clint said, just before the elevator doors closed again.

.-.

"Listen you little gremlin," Thor said, bursting into the bedroom.

Tony screeched and flailed off the bed. The bed was covered in purloined garments. Thor took a moment to be endlessly tired before Tony popped back up on the other side of the bed, arms already trying to swipe any clothes within reach close to him. "I got these fair and square."

"You stole them," Thor corrected. "Clint says he's out of socks."

"He's only got three pairs and none of them match," Tony scoffed immediately.

Thor ran a hand over his face. "If I let you steal my cape, will you give me everything to give back?"

"I will give you.... two pages worth," Tony replied magnanimously.

"No," Thor said. "Tony."

"I have to go to China for a business trip and I want hugs," Tony growled.

"Literally if you just told them that," Thor began, then took a deep breath. He let it back out slowly, then started again more calmly. "You may keep a sweater from each of them."

"Natasha's not getting her lingerie back," Tony said mulishly. "It's shit. I'm getting her nice stuff. This bralette is itchy."

Thor rolled his eyes and sighed, walking over to the bed to gather as much of the clothes as he could together. He couldn't help but watch fondly as Tony scampered around him and pawed three sweaters free. "I hope you don't steal any of the nice lingerie you buy Natasha, Tony. That's quite personal."

"You're saying you don't want to see me in a lacy bra and thong?" Tony asked skeptically.

Thor swallowed down an 'only if they were yours,' because Tony would certainly come up with some sort of loophole, instead letting his lips spread into a languid smile. "I'd prefer you covered in my cape and nothing else," he corrected, trying to sound suggestive as possible.

Tony squawked in embarrassment and flailed into the closet so hide his sweaters. Thor couldn't help but stare after him, wondering if he'd ever stop being surprised by his lover and sincerely doubting it.

[morethanastan]

A concept: Steve is seriously getting concerned by how often Tony and Peter ask him to just…. chuck them as hard as he can. At first it was funny! He enjoyed it! And Tony and Peter clearly enjoy it still as well!

The problem is that now he throws them as hard as he can in public and the press are foaming at the mouth about it.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says sincerely when Peter makes grabby hands at him next. “Pepper has banned me from throwing people unless it’s in the context of battle.”

“Aw,” Peter complains immediately, sagging. “Can’t you just say you thought you saw a kidnapper or something?”

“Peter, I fear Pepper so much,” Steve answers, which is really all he needs to.

“IT’S MY CONSTITUTIONAL RIGHT TO BE YEETED BY AN AMERICAN ICON!!” Tony bellows when Peter sullenly tells him the news. “I’m an adult she can’t stop me. How is this worse than anything else I’ve done. Steve, if you don’t throw me at Thor, I’m never kissing you again.”

Steve is picking him up before the threat really even registers. “Okay.”

“That’s not fair! I wanna get yeeted!!!” Peter whines.

“Steve, it’s important to Peter’s growth as a human to yeet him,” Tony informs Steve, before letting out a whoop as Steve chucks him a hundred feet into Thor’s waiting arms.

Steve takes in Peter’s puppy eyes and scowls. “I’m not an idiot, Peter.”

“Aw,” Peter complains again.

“No, Tony’s actually right. It’s good for kids’ brain development to throw them,” Bruce explains.

Steve and Peter stare at him for a long moment before Peter whips back to him, smiling widely. “Yeah, it’s good for my brain development! You don’t want to be the reason I’m stupid, do you, Captain?”

Steve stares at Bruce, but Bruce has no poker face whatsoever when it comes to this stuff, so he realizes with horror that Bruce is telling the truth. “…Okay,” he says weakly, finally giving into Peter’s impatient grabby hands.

“Of course, that’s mostly for toddlers,” Bruce adds, mostly to himself, just as Steve lets go of Peter and he’s airborne. “A gentle toss to help them learn equilibrium.”

Steve screams in horror because he can’t explain this to Pepper. She’d never believe he was that much of an idiot.

(Pepper leaves him alone just this once because Steve’s horrified scream is all over the internet and when she went to go scold him, she found him face-down on the floor as literally every other Avenger played the clip on their phones to listen to his scream endlessly. She figures nothing she can say is worse than that.)

[morethanastan]

Congrats on 4k!!!! Ok so u know that pic of those girlfriends, one lying down and the other sitting on top, doing their makeup?? What about that, but shrunkyclunks 👀

[morethanastan]

What about bucky noticing how sensitive and emotional tony really is bucky who never really thought much abt tony but then someone on the team says something really mean to him. tony makes a sarcastic response and leaves. later bucky accidently finds tony crying his eyes out. since then he starts paying attention and notices how soft and how freaking sensitive tony is. he starts getting protective. next time someone makes him cry bucky tears them a new one.

+

you guys know what i’ve never seen before but always wantedto? a fic where Tony is a really sensitive person. he’s really easy to hurt -he gets hurt by ppl’s words on daily basis. because really, he just wants to beloved and to feel safe. but the Avengers seem to think that Tony doesn’t havefeelings, so they joke at his expanse a lot, cause it doesn’t hurt him, doesit? and then Bucky finds Tony crying, sobbing really, because he just feels solonely and unwanted in his own house. +hugs pls

—-

“What do you think, Buck? Do you want to come?”

Bucky grunted something into his coffee. Had he been moreawake and willing to speak, he would’ve translated the grunt as “it’s only7am in the morning and all of you fuckers are being too loud and so help me godif you don’t shut the fuck up I’m going to throw you all out the nearestwindow”. Clearly, Steve’s translation abilities needed work because heturned to the Sam and Clint with a grin.

“He’s in. When do you want to leave?”

“Leave for where?” Tony asked, shuffling into theroom behind them. Typically Tony Stark did not appear at this time of the dayunless he was surfacing from a bender in the workshop. Today, though, he wasfully dressed in a bespoke, dark grey suit that fit him like a glove, completewith a deep red tie. Bucky choked a little on his coffee.

“To the baseball game,” Steve said, thumping Buckyon the back. “Dodgers versus the Yankees.”

“Oh, I remember hearing about that,” Tony said,grabbing the coffeepot.

“Do you want to come?” Steve asked. There was justthe slightest pause before he asked, a tiny hint of second-guessing that Tonyclearly noticed, judging by the newfound tension in Tony’s shoulders.

“Are you kidding, Cap?” Clint said before Tony couldanswer. “You know what happens when you hang around Stark. You end up injail.” He was smiling, sort of, but his voice lacked any humor.

Steve frowned at him. “Clint.”

“I wouldn’t want to cramp your style,” Tony said,turning around and holding his mug protectively against his chest.“Besides, I have a full day of meetings to attend to. Unlike the rest ofyou slackers, I actually have a job. Multiple jobs, if we’re beinghonest.”

“I didn’t know you knew what that word meant,” Clintsaid. “Did Pepper buy you a dictionary for your birthday?”

It was a low shot and they all knew it; Pepper had been atopic that was off-limits from the moment the Avengers moved back into thetower and Natasha made the mistake of remarking upon her absence. Back then,Tony had muttered something about Pepper and Malibu and disappeared for threedays. Now, Tony’s face froze in this weird, bland expression and he walked outof the kitchen without another word.

“Clint, what the fuck,” Sam said.

Clint shrugged. “He’s an asshole.”

“He didn’t even say anything!” Steve said,exasperated. “We’re never going to get along at this rate.”

“Maybe we’re not supposed to. Did you ever think aboutthat?” Clint shot back.

Bucky stood up from the table and left the room. He was sickof hearing the same old argument being rehashed over and over again. Sometimesthat was hands down the worst part of being in Avengers Tower. He liked theteam for the most part, but at 7:10am it was asking too much of anyone tolisten to Clint and Steve squabble at each other like a couple offive-year-olds. He stood at the windows in the living room for a few minutes,drinking his coffee, and then took the elevator down to the parking garage.

He was contemplating either a walk or taking a bike down tothe nearest Starbucks to find more caffeine when he spotted him. Tony. Buckystopped short, not wanting to be noticed during what was clearly a privatemoment. Tony was sitting in one of his cars, staring through the windshield.The car was off and he obviously hadn’t realized Bucky was, because he was crying.

Tony Stark was crying.

Bucky stared dumbly, shocked. Admittedly, he’d only known Tonyfor about six months. But in that time, he’d never once seen the guy cry. Noteven when a villain showed up with an EMP that took the Iron Man suit out ofthe sky with one push of the button. Iron Man had hit the ground so hard thatTony was left with broken ribs, a broken right wrist, and so many bruises thathis skin looked more purple and black than tanned for weeks. Even though thepain had to have been bad, Tony didn’t cry.

Yet here he was, sitting in the driver’s seat, both hands onthe steering wheel. Bucky could see the tears on his face clear as day. Andunless something terrible had happened in the past - he checked his watchinstinctively - ten minutes, it had to be because of Clint’s comments. Unlikelyas it seemed, either the jab about jail or Pepper or both had set Tony off tothe point of tears.

There wasn’t really much time for Bucky to decide what to do. Bythe time he got over his shock, Tony was wiping his face and sliding hissunglasses on and starting the car. He backed out of the space and then droveoff, none the wiser that he’d been seen during what was certainly a privatemoment. Bucky stared after him, still speechless.

What the hell had he just witnessed?

As he got on the bike, because he desperately needed morecoffee after that, he told himself to brush it off as a weird, awkward thingthat Tony was never to know about. For all Bucky knew, maybe Tony really hadgotten some terrible news in those ten minutes.

But.

For seventy-some years, Bucky had been trained as an assassin.It had taken him weeks to actively stop searching every room he walked into, orto stop eyeing up his teammates like they were going to attack him. He stillcouldn’t stop himself from sweeping a scene and noticing the smallest details,but his therapist was teaching him ways to filter what was important and whatwasn’t.

Apparently, his brain now deemed Tony important. Because Buckywas noticing that every single time someone made a smart or sarcastic remark –usually Clint or Wanda, though admittedly Wanda’s jabs tended to be more openlycruel – or a joke about or towards Tony, Tony would freeze. His face wouldflicker, like a bad video connection, before smoothing out. He’d say somethingback and then, every time, he’d find some reason to quickly leave the room.

Bucky only followed him once. It was a miracle FRIDAY didn’tinform Tony that he was there. But maybe FRIDAY understood how mortified Tonywould be if he knew Bucky had seen him crying twice.

The whole situation was starting to piss Bucky off. Admittedlyhe’d gone out of his way to not draw attention to himself in regards to Tonybefore this, but the guy was the whole reason that Steve, Bucky, Wanda, Clint,Sam and Scott had been welcomed back in the U.S. without being sent immediatelyto jail. He’d given Bucky the technology to get his own mind back from Hydra.He supplied them all with food, gadgets, and shelter and never asked anythingin return, not even that the rest of his team be polite to him.

So the next time that Wanda made some comment about how goodTony was at killing people after a mission, Bucky turned to her and snarled,“You’re pretty good at hypocrisy” before he’d really stopped to think about it.

Wanda stared at him. So did Steve. And Tony, for that matter,the faceplate of the armor snapping up. Bucky didn’t care. He was fucking sickof this, and he didn’t care that his therapist would have a field day with hisprotective reaction towards a guy that Bucky barely knew but was starting towant to know pretty badly.

“Back off,” Bucky said in a low voice. “Both of you.” He cuthis eyes towards Clint, who stepped back in surprise. “I’ve had it with yourpetty comments and sarcastic jabs. You might think you’re being clever, butyou’re not. You don’t have to like Tony, but youdo have to respect him if you want to keep taking advantageof everything he offers.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Wanda said,bristling. Her fingers glowed with red sparks.

Bucky squared his shoulders, noticing how Tony stiffened up,perceptible even through the armor, when Wanda’s powers made an appearance.That just pissed him off more, because there was no doubt in his mind thatWanda was doing it on purpose. And actually, Tony’s reaction was somethingBucky could 100% appreciate. He didn’t like the thought of anyone having the powerto mess with his head, especially someone who had once been aligned with Hydra.

“I’m making it my business,” Bucky said calmly. “Knock itoff.” He could’ve been cruel and asked if her ma had ever taught her manners,but unlike Wanda, Bucky did have manners. He swallowed the comment before itcould escape and added, “This has been going on for months and I’m tired of it.You both seem to think this is some kind of free-for-all. It ain’t. If beingaround Tony makes you so uncomfortable, you’re free to leave.”

“I’m not leaving!” Wanda said. “I’m part of the team.”

“Then start acting like it. You all agreed you would try tomake this work, but the only person who seems to be trying here is Tony.Frankly, if you’d made even a quarter of the same shitty comments you keepmaking to him to me, I’d have kicked you out on your ass a long time ago.” Hecould feel Tony staring at him, but Bucky didn’t take his eyes off Wanda. “Ifyou can’t at least be cordial, you shouldn’t be here.”

“You can’t – Steve.” She turned towards Steve, but Steve wasalready shaking his head.

“Bucky’s right, Wanda. And that includes you too, Clint.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Clint protested.

“This time,” Bucky said. “But you’ve said plenty. I’m prettysure every third word outta your mouth is jail.”

“Clint,” Natasha said, when Clint would’ve protested again.“Don’t. He’s right.”

“I’m just sayin’,” Bucky said. “This is your warning. Nexttime you say something, I’m gonna saysomething. And if you really piss me off, I might dosomething.” He smiled at Wanda, and he knew it was the kind of smile that theWinter Soldier had possessed, deadly and cold. He didn’t have to elaborate; itwas better to let her brain fill in all the details.

“Bucky,” Steve said, but it was half-hearted at best, andBucky brushed it off in favor of turning to Tony.

“Can I get a ride, doll?” he asked.

“Uh, sure?” Tony said. He didn’t sound all that sure, but hedidn’t pull away when Bucky stepped towards him. Bucky slung his metal arm –built by Tony, of all people, and how had Bucky been so stupid for so long? –around the armor’s neck and felt one of Tony’s arms wrap around his waist. Hisstomach swooped as the repulsors kicked in, lifting them a good hundred feetoff the ground in seconds.

The flight was much shorter than Bucky would’ve liked; theywere back at the tower within ten minutes. He stepped aside as the robotsremoved the suit, leaving just Tony standing there. Just Tony, in a muscleshirt and ill-fitting jeans, arms wrapped around his stomach, not looking atBucky. There was a bruise around his right eye and a scratch down his left cheekand he was sweaty with exertion, and Bucky felt – not justaffection, but something he hadn’t felt for a long time, and he thought… huh.

Just… huh.

“Why did you do that?” Tony asked quietly.

“I call it like I see it,” Bucky said. “They were beingassholes.” And you’re tired, he didn’t say. But it was true. Tony looked tiredevery damn day, like he was barely holding himself up sometimes. He’d beenthrough enough, even if no one else was willing to see it.

“They didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

Which… yeah, that was a problem, but Bucky decided now wasn’tthe time. He just looked at Tony and said, “I disagree. You seem like a decentperson. You have reason to hate me more than anyone, but you don’t. If you canbe polite to me, then she should be able to be polite to you.”

“It’s not the same thing,” Tony said.

“I think it’s exactly the same thing,” Bucky said. He didn’twant to lay it all out, because that would mean bringing up the fact that he’dkilled Tony’s parents whereas Tony had, at best, indirectly killed Wanda’s, butthat was also the truth. “And maybe you don’t think you’re worth standing upfor, but I do.”

Tony just stared at him. Bucky took a chance. He edged incloser and, when Tony again failed to pull away, tentatively wrapped his flesharm around Tony’s shoulders and pulled him in. Tony came easily enough,standing stiff against Bucky as Bucky hugged him. Bucky didn’t care. It wasoccurring to him that he’d been waiting for the chance to do this since thefirst time he’d seen Tony cry.

It took a long time before Tony slowly hugged him back, handssnaking around to Bucky’s back like he thought Bucky might change his mind andleap away in disgust. Bucky took that as permission to tighten his grip. Tonywas warm and surprisingly solid for all that he was too thin, and he was relaxingin all the right places, molding to Bucky’s body, andBucky dared to rest his cheek on Tony’s head.

His therapist was going to be so proud.

~SailorChibi

[morethanastan]

Tony is new to some boarding school that Bucky is already at (with his friends, as in, the avengers) He gets assigned as Bukcy's new roommate. He never wanted to go to the boarding school, he misses home and Jarvis terribly, and feels really, utterly alone and scared. Bucky is nice to him, sure, but he doesn't try to make friends with him that much. One night Bucky wakes up to Tony sobbing into his pillow, because he's so sad and lonely and homesick. (he comforts him and avengers take him in?)

“Yeah, well- Ms. Martha hates me, it ain’t really surprising that I got bunked together with some new kid instead of you. ‘Sides, Sam would mope around if you roomed with me.” Barnes sighs, at least that’s what Tony thinks he does from his distorted point of view after being stopped by the not exactly hushed voices coming out of the room- his room, but not really-, and opting to hide behind the wall outside the room instead of going in, his back to the wall and his hand fiddling with the buttons of his shirt, nervous, feeling unwelcome.

When the other person in the room- Steve, the golden boy of the school, Tony’s mind supplies- comes out and bumps into Tony just as he preparing to walk into the room casually as if he isn’t debating whether to come in after Barnes falls asleep every single day, he gives Tony an apologetic look and a guilty greeting, as Tony smiles right back with an unnaturally wide smile and heads into the room, closing the door behind him.

Without sparing a glance at Barnes who very much does not have a shirt on- as usual- he throws his bag on his bed- the bed, not his bed- and promptly locks himself into the bathroom.

It’s been a week since he came here, and his mom’s promises that the boarding school was going to get better as he made progress are starting to seem like blatant lies, told to make getting rid of him easier.

You need to get some manners, Tony. You are childish, not disciplined, and-

I got accepted into MIT  and I’m 15, dad-

Enough. You’ll go to MIT when you learn how to behave.

The splash of water against his face doesn’t seem to take away from the heat that seems to burn within since he woke up today, induced by seeing that there’s only one cookie left from the ones that Jarvis sent with him. He knows it’s ridiculous, but he misses him, and even the cookies don’t taste the same when Jarvis isn’t there to scold him for attempting to eat two of them at the same time.

You eat way too much for someone your size, Anthony.

Only your cooking, Jarvis. And Anna’s, of course.

He misses his mom, too. He knows she never wanted him to leave, either, but she wants him to be happy, and it’s true that he is a hard kid to deal with. She has always been willing to try, though, unlike his father. His father had always wanted Tony to be easy.

He isn’t. And he knows boarding school won’t change that just because he gets yelled at on a daily basis.

I don’t want to go, mom. I don’t want to leave. What will happen to Dummy? I was just about to finish him-

You’ll come back, Bambi. You’ll see, everything will work out.

He jolts when the banging at the door gets persistent.

He shakes his head, huffs out with annoyance, and opens the door, lips thinned and eyes fiery, prepared to face an angry Bucky. He can stay in his own bathroom for however long he wants dammit-

“You okay?”

“Sorry?” Tony makes a face, confused, but his fists loosen.

Bucky shrugs. “You’ve been in there for quite a time.”

“I’m fine,” he says, pushing past him- well, more like his shoulder hitting the guy’s chest as he passes by- and plops down onto the bed.

He gets the cookie jar out, stares at it, and puts it under his bed again. All the while Barnes stares at him with strange, inquiring eyes that Tony ignores. Maybe he will eat the cookies later.

He doesn’t hate his roommate. The guy gives him the time of the day, never calls him out on his age, and doesn’t act like he is a child, or that he is some prize that he needs to attain or stare at. He goes about his day, hangs out with his golden best friend and the scary redhead that Tony secretly admires, and some other people. He doesn’t care about Tony. It’s good.

Until it isn’t.

(Watch out for the break!)

Keep reading

[morethanastan]

Winteriron Halloween Fluff

This is a birthday gift for @mariesbookblog who asked for a WinterIron Halloween fic that had to do with Aquariums, or any variation on that.  So here it goes! (Un-beta’d so excuse any mistakes!!!)

—

Bucky never asks for anything, so when he speaks up over breakfast and asks for a favor, the table goes silent. “Shit, man– the 31st?” Clint responds first.  "I can’t.  That’s Trick-or-Treat in the neighborhood and I’m in charge of sitting out on the stoop and passing out the candy.“ The rest of the Avengers have all pulled out their phones to check their schedules.   They all look different levels of apologetic within a few seconds. “I can’t either,” Steve says.  "I’m scheduled for that VA thing with Sam that evening.” “It’s fine,” Bucky says. “I could cancel with Sam.  He’d understand.” “Don’t you dare,” Bucky warns.  "It’s fine.  I can do it alone.“ Bruce is out.  Nat is out.  No one bothers to look at Tony because it’s Halloween night and Tony’s got the busiest schedule of them all.  Which must be why they all look up in shock when he speaks up. “You know what?  I’m in,” Tony declares. He’s got seven invitations to parties that night but he’d only maybe’d any of them.  Upscale parties aren’t really his thing anymore anyway. Now eyes go to Bucky.  Because Bucky never seems all that comfortable around Tony, when compared to how he is with everyone else.  But Bucky just shrugs. “Thanks.  I’ll text you the details.  You’ll need the suit.” “That I can handle,” Tony says. * Tony really should have asked.  He’s totally over his issues with the bath and the shower, and he’s almost almost considering the merits of a hot tub again and this event– well, he’s not even going to get wet. “An aquarium,” Tony grumbles to himself when he re-reads the text from Bucky with the event details. “A spooky aquarium adventure, sir,” JARVIS says, because he thinks he’s helpful.

Dum-E rolls over Tony’s foot to cheer him up.  Or because he’s a pain in the ass.  Tony’s never totally sure.

*

If it wasn’t a special event for sick kids, Tony really might have faked a migraine and sent Barnes on his own.  But as it was, the Brooklyn Children’s Hospital had booked out the whole New York Aquarium so their too fragile to Trick-or-Treat patients would have somewhere special to go for the evening and they were busing in around 200 of them.  200 kids looking forward to getting their pictures taken with Iron Man and the Winter Soldier. “Thanks for doing this,” Bucky says, as Happy pulls the town-car up outside of the Aquarium.  

Bucky’s already suited up.  Tony’s got the Iron Man suit in a suitcase at his feet. They’d barely spoken a word the whole ride to Brooklyn but it hadn’t been unpleasant. Just… quiet. “It’s no problem.  I like kids,” Tony says.  "Like making them happy.“ Bucky shakes his head.  "Yeah, well.  Sorry in advance that you’re probably gonna get swarmed.  I don’t know why they invited me ‘cept I’m from Brooklyn and Steve was busy.  These kids are gonna be too scared to come within ten feet of me, I reckon’.  Guess that fits with the haunted part of the aquarium?” Tony tilts his head slightly.  "Wait.  This is your first of these?  Your first kiddie cam op?“ "No one’s ever asked me to go,” Bucky says quietly.  "For obvious reasons.“ "Oh Buckles.  This is– no, you know what– I’m not gonna spoil it for you.  I’ll hop out, get in the suit, and then the fun can begin.” * They aren’t too close to any of the water so Tony’s actually doing fine.   Bucky’s the one with the eyes that look they’re being led to a torture chamber. “You’re not gonna take off your jacket?” Tony asks. Bucky’s wearing the one that covers all the way down to his hand.  The only part of his new (Stark-made) metal arm that’s showing is a sliver of his wrist. “Like parents need reminding I’m a killer,” Bucky sighs.  "Maybe I should go.  Let you do this on your own.“ "Oh no no no,” Tony says.  "I did not bail on seven Halloween parties and spend a week working my way through my issues with aquariums to watch you–“ "You bailed on Halloween parties?” Bucky interrupts. “I hadn’t really said I’d go.  They were maybes,” Tony backtracks. “And you have issues with aquariums?” “Water,” Tony clarifies.  "It’s fine.  It’s nothing.  No issues with aquariums.“ "Then why?” Bucky asks. He sounds so confused Tony actually smiles. “That’s not obvious?” Tony asks. “I got no clue here.” “Thought it might be nice to– I dunno.”  Tony chickens out.  "Help sick kids.“ "Cept I hadn’t told you what the event was yet,” Bucky points out. “I guessed. I’m a genius,” Tony says. “And apparently a psychic,” Bucky laughs.  But he lets it drop. When Tony notices Bucky looking at him differently as an employee comes to meet them and walk them to the photo-op booth, he’s polite enough not to point it out. * It takes about twenty minutes and approximately 65 Iron Mans, Caps and Spideys, but Tony finally spots one.  And she’s fierce. “Look,” Tony says, nodding in the direction of the six or seven year old girl, dressed in a Winter Soldier costume with a glittery silver and red tutu fluffed around her waist.  Her silver (aluminum foil) arm gleams in the early evening sun and where Bucky has a red star, she’s got a painted red heart.  She’s even got the eyeliner all smudged around her eyes. When she spots Bucky she beams.  But Bucky doesn’t notice her.  Tony realizes it’s because he’s got no clue this would even be a possibility, but it is still worth every last minute of the past week to see the look on Bucky’s face when the girl gets to the front of the line and he gets a good look at her. “BUCKY BUCKY BUCKY!” she greets.  "Look!  I’m you!“ "You are me,” he says in wonder.  He drops to one knee to get a better look. "Did you make that arm yourself?” “My daddy helped me.  Who made your arm?” she asked. Bucky tilts his head up toward Tony.  "That guy.“ "Can I see it?” she asks. Bucky looks toward her dad, who just smiles back at him.  And with no one shouting NO DON’T DO IT, Bucky nudges down his jacket, and then ends up pulling it off entirely.  Of course, that results in a swarm of children, wiggling around the photographer because now that the arm is out in the open and very clearly displayed, the kids (even the little Iron Mans) can’t get enough of it. They do manage to finally shoo everyone away so Bucky can get a picture with Ruby (Tony takes so many pictures too, with the parents’ permission), and he leaves the jacket off, since every kid whose been waiting for their turn has now seen it and once a chance to poke it. The rest of the night goes off without a hitch.  There are probably a dozen more Winter Soldiers, and every time Bucky sees one he gets that same look of incredulous wonder.  When it’s over, Tony changes back out of his suit and the kids are all ushered back onto buses or taken home by their parents. The aquarium staff offers to let Bucky and Tony wander around on their own if they’d like until they need to close up officially in about an hour. The “Haunted” part of the part is mostly just random ghost and witch cut outs and it’s a pleasant brisk night, so nothing too gloomy around. “I’d be up for it if you want to,” Bucky says.  "But if you wanna try to get to one of those parties I’d understand.“ "No,” Tony says.  "Let’s walk.  Sounds fun.“ They do walk.  And as they walk, somehow (Tony really isn’t sure who initiates it because it just kind of happens) their fingers brush, and then their holding hands.  It’s barely first base.  It’s so tentative it’s practically non-existent but it does exist.  And when they’ve finally made their way through the mostly deserted park, Tony texts Happy to pick them up. They climb in the back and it’s quiet again for the ride to the tower. "Wasn’t sure if you noticed me taking them but here.  Look,” Tony says. He hands Bucky his phone and watches Bucky’s face as he flips through them. “They really don’t see me for what I am, do they?” Bucky finally asks. “Oh, I dunno,” Tony says.  "Sometimes I think kids see us more clearly.  I mean– I might be biased but I don’t think you’re so bad.“ "No?” Bucky asks. “No, Tony agrees, leaning in toward him a little closer. "Well you are a genius,” Bucky says. “And a psychic,” Tony reminds him.  "And I’m just tossing this out there so feel free to say no… but I think I see a kiss in your future.“ "Get a room you, two,” Happy complains from the front. The partition rolls up abruptly and both Tony and Bucky laugh.  Tony’s not expecting Bucky to be the one to close the distance between them, but he is and the kiss may be as hesitant as the hand-holding but it is also really, really good. “Don’t want to make a liar out of you,” Bucky says. “In that case.  I see dinner in our future, too.  And then more kissing.  Maybe a scary movie on the couch?” “It is Halloween,” Bucky agrees.  "You’re sure this is how you want to spend it?  With me?“ "Absolutely.” It’s the first of so many.

[morethanastan]

Prompt: Stony, animal transformation

I realized about halfway through writing this that you probably meant a spell or something but I wrote shifters instead and I really liked what I had so I kept going. Sorry it’s a lot crackier than you were probably expecting; you can blame @maguna-stxrk for that

As always, everything I write is also available on ao3

~

“No.”

The first time Tony met Steve Rogers, he was both delighted and irritated. Delighted because hey! Captain America is another cat shifter! And that means that Howard was wrong and Tony is, in fact, like Captain America (in some ways at least; in others, that remains to be proven).

“I won’t do it.”

And irritated because Captain America is another cat shifter.

“You can’t make me.”

Tony knows that there are cat shifters out there who are perfectly friendly and like being around other cats. He is not one of them. There are multiple reasons why he and Steve clashed on the helicarrier and only one of them is Loki’s staff. Tony’s breed is highly territorial and everything in his tower is his and he doesn’t want another cat in there rubbing up against his stuff. But there Fury is, insisting that the entire team move into the tower.

“I don’t want them there,” Tony says flatly. That’s not entirely true. He doesn’t really want any of them there but he’s willing to put up with them. The only one he really truly genuinely doesn’t want there is Steve.

It’s probably a good thing none of the rest of the team is here to hear him complaining about them. But, well, they should know better than to expect friendliness out of him. He’s not friendly. He’s majestic and aloof and not in the mood to have anyone else around to see him when he’s not being majestic and aloof.

Fury eyes him. Tony doesn’t know what kind of shifter he is—he keeps that kind of paperwork on actual paper, ew—but he wouldn’t be surprised if it’s something sneaky and devious like Fury himself (probably a snake. Tony hates snakes).

“Stark, the ways I could make you do what I want—”

“—are all against the Geneva Convention,” Tony finishes smoothly. In his reflection on the table, he realizes that the tuft of hair behind his ear isn’t lying flat. He licks the back of his hand and reaches up to smooth the hairs back down.

“Stark.”

“Fury.”

“We are running out of options—”

“Well, that sounds like a you problem.”

“—for Clint.”

Tony shuts up. Sighs. Glances through the window of the conference room where he can see Clint leaning against the wall, stuck in partial shift since Loki and the invasion. His golden tail is tucked between his legs, his ears are drooped, and he flinches like a kicked puppy (not an inaccurate description) every time someone walks by.

“How bad is it?” he asks.

“People don’t want him on the helicarrier,” Fury says. “He makes them nervous. His pack bonds were broken when Loki took him, and with Coulson—well.”

Yeah, that. Dog shifters like Clint rely on pack bonds, even those formed between non-dogs. Tony’s always been more of a loner so he can’t really imagine what Clint is going through but judging by the way Clint looks, he can guess it isn’t easy.

“They’ve all been briefed on what it’s like living with a cat, even Rogers, and they know about your idiosyncrasies in particular.”

And that’s the crux of the matter. “I don’t want him there,” Tony says quietly.

“He’s not the same breed—”

“But he’s got the same instincts!” He sighs frustratedly and almost runs his hand through his hair before he realizes how much that’ll mess up his hairstyle. His tail lashes agitatedly behind him, instincts urging him to claw, to bite, to protect his home from the invader. “Why can’t it just be Clint?”

“Because where Clint goes, Natasha goes. Besides, Clint needs the pack bonds, which means he needs the whole team.”

Tony hisses, crosses his arms, pouts. “Fine,” he says eventually. “But I don’t like it.”

And then, before Fury can feel too smug in his victory, he keeps aggressive eye contact and knocks Fury’s water glass off the table, darting away before he can hear more than the bellow of rage.

 ~

“I don’t want you here,” Tony says, ears laced back irritably. It’s the first time he’s come across Steve in the tower so far and of course the man (well, actually he’s shifted into his cat form right now) is lying in Tony’s favorite sunbeam. The nerve of some people.

The single eye that Tony can see slits open and stares at him for a long moment. In the next moment, a ripple comes over the cat and then Steve has partially shifted back, stretching lazily as he yawns. “Okay, Tony,” he agrees.

“You’re in my sunbeam.”

“Okay, Tony.”

“I want you out of it.”

“But it’s such a nice sunbeam.”

“It’s mine.”

“We could share it.”

Tony lets out an offended yowl. They can’t share it. That would defeat the purpose of it being his. Steve stares at him for a long moment and then stretches again, muscles rippling in interesting ways that make Tony want to knead them for—no. No kneading. No accepting the interloper.

“Come on, Tony. It’s sunny and I want to nap. We can share the sunbeam,” Steve says around another yawn before flopping over onto his side, still mostly human. Tony wants to bite his tail. But… he does want a nap. And this is favorite sunbeam. And he shouldn’t have to find another one since there’s no way Steve will be leaving this one (sadly Tony has not yet figured out the right strength the armor needs to move him).

He carefully lays down, putting several inches of space between him and Steve. Almost immediately, he can feel the effects of the warm sun on him, pulling him under into a light doze. It’s not enough to fall asleep entirely, not when he can still feel Steve at his front but then Steve starts to purr and oh, that’s kind of nice. He hesitantly lets out an answering purr of his own. Steve’s rumble grows louder and almost without meaning to, Tony finds his hands kneading the ground contentedly.

~

But that won’t stand. It can’t stand. He conceded ground on the sunbeam because it and Steve were warm and that was clearly a mistake because now Steve is standing in the kitchen, drinking coffee from Tony’s favorite coffeepot out of Tony’s favorite mug as he talks to Natasha.

And this injustice cannot stand!

“Mine,” he hisses, fingers shifting into extended claws, ready to tear into Steve for daring to drink from what clearly belongs to Tony.

At his hiss, Natasha’s skin ripples until she’s scaly and blending in with the cabinets. Smart of her to stay out of his way. Few things are worse than a territorial cat and even someone as lethal as Natasha would hesitate to face him when he’s like this, even though Steve gives her an amused look and says, “Really?”

Steve takes another sip out of the mug. Tony’s hiss turns into a full-throated growl. “Tony, you have to learn to share.”

“No.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Mine.”

“Yeah, you said that.” Steve doesn’t sound very impressed. Or even particularly intimidated, damn it.

“It’s my mug, it’s my favorite mug, you have to give it back,” Tony says, eyes tracking the mug as Steve lifts it to his lips again—wow, they looked kind of pink and pretty in the morning—no, focus. “Give it.”

“Alright,” Steve says agreeably and holds the mug out. “Here you go.”

Tony’s tail lashes and he hisses again. “You know I don’t like to be handed things.”

“Oh right,” Steve says, sounding remarkably unconcerned. “Too bad then. Guess you’re not getting your mug back.” He takes another sip from the mug—Tony’s mug.

“No,” Tony whines, drawing the word out so that it has at least eight additional syllables. He flops over onto the kitchen table, rolling around mostly so that he’s treating this situation with the hysteria it deserves but also so that he can scent mark the table, which currently smells of the rest of the team and not like him.

“Tony, stop being overdramatic,” Natasha orders, apparently deciding that she doesn’t need to blend in with the background anymore. “Steve, stop being a shit and give him back his mug.”

“No,” they both say petulantly.

She pulls out one of the many, many knives she keeps on her person. Tony hurriedly rolls off the table. Steve quickly puts the mug down and pulls out another one. Immediately, Tony darts to his mug—all his, no one else’s—and cradles it to his chest.

“That’s better,” Natasha says smugly and stalks out of the kitchen.

Tony waits until she’s gone and Steve has filled his new mug. Then, as Steve busies himself with cooking his breakfast, he slowly, cautiously reaches out and bats Steve’s mug off the counter. He gleefully sprints out of the kitchen to the sound of Steve’s outraged yowls, clutching his own mug close.

~

“Clint says you’ve been working too long,” Steve says, surprising Tony so much all the fur on his tail stands straight up.

“Fuck,” he spits. “I have a heart condition, you know.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees like the asshole cat he is. “But I don’t think I’m going to give you a heart attack just by sneaking up on you. Not my fault you were in a zone.”

Tony grumbles wordlessly under his breath. It’s true that he’s been in a zone for the last couple hours or so, something that he achieves only through kneading or inventing, but that’s no reason for Clint to be concerned.

“Why do you care if Clint says I’ve been working too long?” he asks. Steve picks up one of his screwdrivers and spins it between his fingers before setting it back down. Tony immediately picks it up as well and rubs his cheek on it to cover it in his scent again. Steve shoots him a mischievous grin and promptly moves further away to do the same thing to a different screwdriver. Tony resigns himself to losing another couple of hours to scent marking everything once Steve is gone.

“I don’t,” Steve says, now rubbing up against one of the armors (and no, Tony is not thinking about how good Steve looks like that). “I thought we were doing a great job of ignoring each other. But he says it’s been more than twenty-four hours, which means it’s time for a break.”

“Says who?”

“Pepper, apparently.”

Tony winces. Okay, yeah, he can ignore pretty much everyone except for Pepper. She’s important.

“So you’re… what, here to drag me upstairs for dinner?”

Steve shakes his head and holds up a bag in his hand. “Thought I’d offer to split a bag of catnip with you.”

Huh.

“Huh,” Tony says out loud. He eyes it suspiciously. “It’s not laced with anything else, is it? You’re not going to take me to knock me out and take me to Medical.”

“Just pure catnip.” Steve opens the bag and Tony’s eyes dilate at the intoxicating scent. “Why, do you need to go to Medical?”

Tony thinks of the two cracked ribs he suffered during the battle yesterday that he’d wrapped himself. “Nope,” he says blithely. Steve’s eyes narrow but he doesn’t argue. “Are you going to judge me for straight up eating it?”

“Are you going to judge me for doing the same?”

“Fair,” he says and holds out a hand for the bag. Steve upends it and dumps half in Tony’s hand, watching without judgment as Tony stuffs half of it into his mouth.

And when Tony comes back from his catnip-induced high to finds himself fully shifted, Steve’s own shifted form wrapped so tightly around him that his short tabby fur is mingling with Tony’s longer white fur, there’s no judgment there either, just Steve purring and purring and purring.

~

“Why do you do it?” Tony quietly asks Steve one night. Some animated movie is playing on the screen but Tony doesn’t think anyone is actually paying attention to it. The rest of the team is busy sleeping together in a cuddle pile in their shifted forms, Clint’s golden retriever spooned by Thor’s panda, Bruce’s owl perched on top of Clint with his head tucked under his wing. He can’t spot Natasha’s chameleon but he can smell her so he knows she’s there somewhere. He and Steve are sitting apart from the rest of the team, studiously ignoring them. It had surprised him when Steve hadn’t gotten down there to join them—tabbies tend to be more social than other cats—and instead chosen to curl up next to him on the couch in his partial shift, but to his shock, he isn’t complaining about it.

Idly, Steve twines his tail around Tony’s twitching one and purrs, relaxing him until he’s a puddle on the couch. “Nat said it was a good way to get your attention.”

“What, picking a fight with me?”

“Tony.” Steve gives him a long look and then leans over to lick his ear. It should make Tony stiffen, run away, groom over that one spot until he no longer smells of Steve anymore. It doesn’t. It just makes his ear flick curiously. “I never wanted to fight with you.”

Oh.

Oh.

Suddenly, Tony’s brain is sifting through every interaction he and Steve have ever had, looking at them in a new light. Okay, and yeah, now that he’s thinking about it, he can see that this has all been Steve’s clumsy, well-intended attempt at courting him. And maybe he’s never really thought about Steve like that before but he’s thinking now and what he’s thinking is that when Steve isn’t stealing his things and laying in his favorite sunbeam, he actually really likes Steve.

“You’re not very good at this,” he informs Steve.

“Yeah, I’m getting that impression.”

“Natasha gave you bad advice.”

“I’m pretty sure she did it on purpose to stir up trouble.”

“She’s worse than either of us,” Tony agrees. “Now, hold still.”

“Wha—” He leans over Steve and licks at his ear, carefully grooming him. Steve purrs beneath him, eyes half-closed with pleasure. Tony’s own eyes drift shut as his heart beats a rhythm to the tune of mine, mine, mine.

~

“Hey, babe,” Tony says, coming up behind Steve. He drapes himself across Steve’s shoulders like the affectionate cat he is, giving a very sharp grin to the young socialite who has been holding onto Steve’s hand for the last minute. Doesn’t she know that that’s Tony’s? “I was wondering where you got off to.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Steve replies, relaxing now that Tony is here. “Got stopped by Miss—I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”

Tony knows Steve well enough to know that that’s absolutely not the case. He’s just saying it to irritate her. But she doesn’t know that, especially because none of them are allowed to be in partial shift for tonight’s gala—Fury’s orders—and Steve’s shifter form is a closely guarded secret. So she doesn’t know that Steve’s just following his instincts as a cat. Tony does though, and he smothers his laugh in Steve’s shoulder.

“Whithers,” the girl says, irritation bleeding into her tone.

“Pleasure,” Tony says, making no attempt to hide the fact that he thinks it’s the opposite. He twines himself around Steve so that he can reach his lips for a quick kiss. “If you don’t mind, I have to borrow Steve here. Although, I really don’t care even if you do mind. See, he’s mine and I don’t really like it when people touch what’s mine.”

And then, before her face can do much more than register shock, he bats her champagne glass out of her hand.

[morethanastan]

Sgsdhgksjgs y’all a no-powers concept:

Sam is used to Bucky razzing him. It’s basically the core of their relationship. It’s not like he doesn’t give as good as he gets, and he secretly enjoys every new insult that Bucky comes up with. (His favorite so far is when he blue-shelled Bucky in Mario Kart and Bucky screamed that he was a bubble-headed blue vested bastard with no taste and less intelligence. It had honestly been beautiful.)

So he’s very confused when Bucky comes storming into the apartment one day snarling, “Sam is the most beautiful, charming, smart man I’ve ever met, and you can go fuck yourself.”

“Babe,” Sam says, stunned, after Bucky has hung up and chucked his phone across the room. “What the fuck?”

“Can you believe that Steve thinks that he has a better boyfriend than me?!” Bucky exclaims angrily.

Sam blinks at him. “Ste–Steve? Your best friend Steve? Like-your-brother Steve? That Steve?”

“He started dating some twink and he thinks he’s hot shit,” Bucky complains. “He’s bringing him to our meeting tonight.”

“Maybe he wants support so he doesn’t feel awkward meeting his brother-friend’s long-term boyfriend after just being discharged from the army,” Sam says slowly.

“You’re not fucking intimidating!” Bucky bursts out, then pauses, frowning. “Well. Maybe when I eat the last of your Jell-O cups and forget to buy more. I didn’t know an empty container could be so scary.”

“Stop eating my fucking Jell-O cups. You don’t even like lime,” Sam retorts. “Anything we should know about your friend’s boyfriend?

“They met on base, their relationship is relatively new, and I need to be nice,” Bucky mutters petulantly.

Sam nods a little. That’s the word all of Bucky’s friends had come up with to say ‘we know your love language is making fun of people but this person is sensitive and needs to be eased into it.’ “So what was with your impassioned speech about how great I am then?”

“He told me that his boyfriend was pretty hot stuff and not to freak out when I met him,” Bucky thunders, incensed again. “As if I’m not already dating the world’s most excellent specimen of a man!”

“Thanks, babe. I think you’re cool too,” Sam says. “Maybe don’t be so aggressive in person.”

Bucky sucks in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “I’ll try,” he mutters. “‘Don’t freak out when you meet him, Buck,’ can’t fuckin’ believe the audacity. Just ‘cause I’m a flirt doesn’t mean I’m out for everyone’s boyfriend. Asshole.”

“It’s normal to be insecure in a new relationship,” Sam reminds him. “Steve isn’t normally like this, right?”

Bucky crosses his arms petulantly, then sighs in defeat. “No. Not really.”

“See? He’s just worried. You’re a handsome, charismatic guy. If I wasn’t so sure no one else could stand your dumbass long-term, I might be a little insecure too,” Sam adds. “But I’m sure. You cry every time you get drunk and start swiping through Natasha’s Instagram.”

“She finds so many cats!” Bucky answers defensively.

.-.

Steve stands up to pull Bucky into a hug, showing that the person left in the booth is Tony fucking Stark. “You called Tony Stark a twink?!” Sam sputters before anyone else can say anything.

“You called my boyfriend a twink?!” Steve exclaims, offended, and the hug he’d been going for turns into a chokehold.

“Fuck,” Bucky yelps, before dragging Steve down to the floor with a snarl. Sam and Tony watch, silent, as they begin wrestling.

Then Tony looks up at Sam. Somehow he seems delighted. “I pass for a twink?”

Sam gives him the courtesy of a long onceover before saying, “I mean. Not really. With the beard and all.”

“Oh,” Tony says, sagging in disappointment. “Okay.”

“Sorry,” Sam replies, unable to help feeling guilty for some reason. “If it helps, you grew out of your twink phase beautifully.”

Tony brightens again. “Oh! Thank you!”

“I’m guessing Steve told Bucky not to freak out because you’re Tony Stark and not because Bucky can’t help but be a flirt,” Sam surmises, sitting down across from him.

“Yeah,” Tony answers. “Most people tend to freak out when they see me in person and I wanted to make a good first impression, since he’s Steve’s best friend.” He frowns, uncertain. “Um. Was this a bad impression? And… should we stop them?”

Sam looks over at Steve and Bucky, who are still wrestling on the ground, then looks back at Tony. “I think it’s a perfectly fine impression. And no, I figure I deserve this for the bubble-headed insult he gave me after I blue-shelled him.”

“Excellent. I ordered a pitcher of margaritas,” Tony says, pouring him a glass. “Have a seat. You tell me stories about Bucky being a dumbass, and I’ll tell you stories about Steve being a dumbass.”

“Deal,” Sam says, sitting down across from him. “I have a lot. Where should I start?”

.-.

Sam and Tony get along thick as thieves and Bucky and Steve are miserable about it because suddenly their boyfriends know about all the stupid shit they got up to before and in the army. Somehow they aren’t prepared for the absolutely appalled expressions they receive about the cyclone and then the ziplining stories.

[morethanastan]

Ahhh if you’re still doing those prompts, maybe winteriron + "No one has ever made me feel like this."? Thank you!! 💖

thank you for sending one!!

Tony knew when it started that there was a good chance he would mess it all up. His relationship history is littered with mistakes, but he really tries to get it right with Bucky. He sets reminders in his phone so he can’t forget about their dates, even when his mind is so locked in on one of his projects that the rest of the world has ceased to exist for the time being. He pays close attention when Bucky talks and learns him, so when he sends him a text that says he’s had a terrible day at work, Tony can show up at his door with the orange chicken from the Chinese restaurant that he likes in one hand and his favorite kind of beer in the other. He likes the smile he gets on nights like those. That beautiful, fond one that tells Tony just how much Bucky likes being known by him.

The point is that he tries his best, and four months in, Bucky has seen every side of him. He starts to think that maybe he won’t blow it after all, because even when he gets it a little wrong sometimes, Bucky still stays.

They’re on Bucky’s couch with some movie playing in the background when he finally ruins it. Bucky hovers over him, lips trailing down his neck and hands slipping beneath his t-shirt. Tony tilts his head back and closes his eyes to just let himself feel it. The light drag of stubble against his throat, the brush of Bucky’s fingertips drifting across his ribs, the heat of Bucky’s mouth on every place he kisses. He gets lost in it all, escaping his own mind for a while in a way that only Bucky has ever been able to make happen so effortlessly.

His eyes only open again when the contact is abruptly gone, and he looks up at Bucky with a pout. “Why'd you stop?”

Bucky traces a thumb over Tony's bottom lip, smiling at him softly. It's the kind of smile he's been getting more and more lately, and each time gives him butterflies.

“I love you.”

Static takes over Tony's mind. He's vaguely aware that his mouth has fallen open and his eyes are wide. Every muscle in his body is rigid, and his heartbeat is definitely not following a normal rhythm.

Bucky's smile fades into worry. “Honey, are you alright? You don't have to say it back, but you should probably still be breathing.”

Tony gasps in a breath at the reminder. It isn’t a conscious thought when he starts looking for escape routes, more like a panic-driven instinct telling him to get out. There’s the front door for the easiest one, or out the window and down the fire escape. Only two options, but maybe he could barricade himself in the bathroom for a while. Bucky would have to leave to go to work eventually.

“Baby,” Bucky says gently, touching a hand to his face. It’s all so delicately done, slow movements and a quiet voice to gradually bring him out of it. “Doll, it’s okay. You don’t need to say it back. It’s alright if you don’t feel that way yet. I just wanted you to know.”

Bucky pulls back a little, probably to give him some space, but the sudden rush of cold air on his skin snaps Tony back into himself enough to know that he doesn’t want him to go. The last thing he wants is distance.

Tony reaches out blindly and clings to the first thing his hand touches, twining his fingers into Bucky’s t-shirt. He doesn’t bring Bucky back down to him, but follows him up to bury his face into the side of his neck and hold on tight.

“Can you say it again?” he whispers, because none of it feels quite real. But Bucky’s arms are wrapped around him, strong and safe, and he can feel Bucky’s pulse beating steady against his cheek. All solid, tangible things that anchor him here.

“I’ll say it as many times as you want to hear it, sweetheart,” Bucky says. “I love you.”

He cards his fingers through Tony’s hair, lips brushing briefly against his temple for a featherlight kiss. Tony breathes in slow and even, nose pressed into Bucky’s shoulder. He always smells like a hint of lavender from his fabric softener, and it’s another familiar, steadying thing.

“No one has ever made me feel like this,” Tony confesses quietly after another few minutes.

“Like what? Completely panicked and freaked out?” Bucky teases lightly, and Tony laughs.

He tilts his head up to press a kiss to the underside of Bucky’s jaw, stroking the pad of his thumb along the spot after. “I’m trying to say that I love you, too.”

“Yeah?”

Tony shifts in Bucky’s arms to take his face between his hands. Bucky looks up at him, blue eyes almost gray in the light, and all of the fear is gone.

“I love you.”

Bucky grins, “I love you, too.”

[morethanastan]

“Tony is the worst!” Steve thundered as he stormed into the waiting room.

“Is that a black eye,” Natasha asked, at the same time Clint said, “Wait, the last time I said that you glared at me.”

“How’s Tony?” Bruce cut in before Steve could explode.

Steve swiveled to face him. “He’s going to be fine. The doctor said it was a mild concussion and a sprained wrist. Nothing to worry about.”

“That’s good to know,” Bruce replied, and then motioned him back to Natasha and Clint. “Carry on.”

“He was a little emotional from his concussion, okay,” Steve immediately snarled, turning back to face them. “And I was comforting him, you know? Like a good boyfriend does. Usually cuddling him works better because he hates false reassurance, but he was still teary, so I told him it was okay, don’t cry. Like a good boyfriend does!”

“No one is arguing that you’re a good boyfriend, Steve,” Clint deadpanned.

Natasha nodded in agreement. “You’re actually sickening to watch.”

“Thank you, but this isn’t fucking about me,” Steve hissed. “It’s about Tony being a contrary asshole. Because you know what that little shit did? He looked me IN MY EYES and said ‘fuck you, I can do what I want’ and started bawling his fucking eyes out. Guess who came in just as he did that. Guess.”

“Honestly it’s a tossup between Colonel Rhodes, Happy, and Pepper for me,” Clint admitted.

“Pepper would just stab him, so it had to be Colonel Rhodes or Happy,” Natasha said.

“I told Colonel Rhodes he should go in because he always makes Tony feel better,” Bruce admitted, fidgeting.

“AND HE PUNCHED ME IN MY FUCKING FACE FOR MAKING TONY CRY!” Steve bellowed.

“I mean, he’s technically not wrong,” Clint began, then screamed when Steve lunged for him.

[morethanastan]

I’ll probably never get around to this because I have so much else to do but this scene won’t leave me alone. For context, young, pre-serum omega Steve went off to fight a war, pretending he was an alpha (which he can pull off because he has two growth spurts during training). By the time the war is over, and he’s exposed as an omega, he’s too famous and respected for the army to dishonorably discharge, so they firmly insist that he marry out of the army, and while Steve’s bitter about it, he knows he’s lucky for not being kicked out on his ass like some other omegas.

Unfortunately, the army also insist that he “marry up” because of course the army’s darling needs a satisfactorily high-ranking alpha. Every single fucking alpha they introduce him to is gross, so he sends a letter to Duke Stark asking him to marry him, since Tony was the one who wrote his letter of introduction to get into the army in the first place. Once he gets a letter back from Tony saying he accepts, he makes his way back to the Stark Duchy to wed him.

Also there are no bad guys here, just two kids from different backgrounds who misunderstood each other, and that’s the real tragedy of it all.

Warning for presumed character death but like………. Bucky would eventually show up again lmao. It’s 3K so watch out for under the cut!

–

They arrived at Stark Manor late in the night.

Steve had mentioned stopping for the evening at an inn and arriving the next morning, so as not to impose on the manor staff, but Natasha had said they’d be imposing either way, and at least the manor’s staff would be fairly compensated instead of rousting the innkeeper and his wife. Steve had mostly been saying it to put off the inevitable, so he’d agreed, and sighed, and they’d quietly trudged further to Stark Manor. Somehow, they’d been expected, and he wished he was more surprised about it, but the staff of the manor were quicker and more organized than any army Steve had experienced in his life. He was certain, if the staffs of every manor and castle had gotten together, the war would have been finished in mere months.

“Master Stark has had a watch out for you for the last three days,” the head butler, Jarvis, said, looking amused. “He has rooms ready for all of you, and a light meal.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jarvis,” Steve answered, somehow feeling more exhausted than before.

“Welcome home, sir,” Jarvis replied warmly.

It doesn’t feel like home, Steve doesn’t say. Stark Manor might have been where he grew up, but the army was where he found family after his mother died and Tony had had to start more rigorous tutoring. He wouldn’t have ever told Jarvis that, though—Jarvis had been one of kindest people he’d known when he lived here, second only to Tony. Now he was back, and he didn’t even have the comfort of Bucky here, ribbing him about how he should have known that it wouldn’t stay a secret forever and how funny was it, that he was even more in Tony’s debt and Tony was unaware that Steve felt he owed him.

“I’m sorry that Bucky didn’t make it,” Clint said, noticing his melancholy. “I’m sure he would have wanted to…”

“Yeah,” Steve cut in gruffly. Would have wanted to make fun of his big dumb crush on Tony that hadn’t abated ever since Tony had looked at him, bright-eyed and young, and said he’d write a letter of introduction for him with the Stark seal to get him into the army. And now he got to marry him. Except Tony was just doing him another favor, because it would be just as beneficial to him to marry the army’s hero as it was for Steve to marry a duke.

Sam reached out to grab his shoulder. “I’m sure he’d be happy to—”

“Sure,” Steve cut in again. Bucky would have been a lot of things. Like alive.

Luckily, the manor was large enough that they were each given separate rooms. He wanted to be alone, gather his thoughts before he had to see Tony. He hadn’t come to greet them, but it had been late, and he probably had things to attend to. Just because he’d had a watch set so that they could be welcomed in, it didn’t mean that he’d stay up late into the night waiting for them as well. Besides, it wouldn’t have been fair; he would have looked as put-together and beautiful as always, and Steve would have looked dirty and grimy from travel. He probably would have considered it impolite to not give them the chance to clean up a bit.

Steve took the time to wash the worst of the dust from the road off at the wash basin, pausing when he saw his reflection in the mirror. He’d look better if he could shave, he figured, lifting a hand to rub at his beard. He’d do that in the morning, when he had more energy. Maybe see about getting a haircut. He looked so different from when he’d left as a boy, he was a little surprised that Jarvis had recognized him. But then, Jarvis had always had that sort of uncanny ability to know who everyone was, where they were, and what they should be doing. Jarvis had scolded him more than his mother ever had, simply because he’d caught him misbehaving more.

Steve ate the bread and cheese that had been left, drank a cup of mulled wine, then tried to go to bed, but he couldn’t settle. His thoughts kept racing. Here he was, being treated as a valued guest in the home he’d grown up in, where as a child he’d been treated kindly only because his mother had been the only one able to nurse the sickly duchess and her equally frail baby. “I had plenty of practice with you,” she’d told Steve once, eyes crinkling with how widely she’d smiled. The bed was soft, and the sheets smelled like perfume, and he’d give anything to be back on his miserable cot in the army.

He couldn’t sleep. He remembered where the library was, though, and he figured he was old enough now to get away with wandering the halls late at night. If anyone asked, he’d just say he was grabbing a book he remembered liking as a child. Surely they’d leave him be, then.

To Steve’s surprise, the couch in the library was already occupied. He nearly turned on his heel and went back to his room when he realized it was Tony. He’d grown up to be unfairly handsome, Steve despaired, but he’d figured that would happen—even as boys, Tony had been beautiful, with long lashes and bright eyes and hands that moved when he talked. He froze for a moment, unsure whether he should leave before Tony spotted him or greet him. He wasn’t ready for this. He thought he had time. He decided he’d make a break for it, but took one last look at Tony, because if he looked like he was about to fall asleep, he should probably get Jarvis to rouse him to bed. Then he froze again, because he didn’t think he’d ever seen a man look so defeated in his life.

Keep reading

[morethanastan]

Henlo would you also like Steve’s pov of the mermay fic happenings :B

[morethanastan]

Henlo would you also like a rundown of my other MerMay fic :B

[morethanastan]

#48 for winteriron for the kisses ask??

...out of habit.

Much to Bucky’s delight and Tony’s dismay, he is able to identify twelve different ways to steal the Declaration of Independence other than what was portrayed in National Treasure.

“I can’t believe I missed that one,” Tony groans, sounding like he’s genuinely embarrassed at having only identified eleven ways to steal the Declaration of Independence versus Bucky’s twelve.

Bucky just laughs and tells Tony, “Eleven’s not bad, doll, for an amateur.”

“Excuse me?!” Tony cries, sounding put out. “I may have only been 34 when I saw National Treasure for the first time and not a senior citizen like you, but I’m not an amateur, I’m a professional.”

“A professional would have identified all twelve ways to steal the Declaration of Independence,” Bucky tells him seriously.

“Fri, are you hearing this? Betrayed by my own friend in my own home- make note of this frankly hurtful behavior, and the next time I’m inclined to have a movie night with Bucky, remind me of the cruelty that took place tonight,” Tony says with his arms folded across his chest, looking amused despite his best efforts to appear disgruntled.

Bucky takes one look at his expression and bursts out into laughter all over again.

“You’re mean,” Tony pouts, clearly trying his best to look offended. It’s a futile attempt on his part though, given how obvious it is that he’s on the verge of laughing too.

“And you’re a sore loser,” Bucky points out, grinning as he adds, “In addition to an amateur.”

Tony grumbles under his breath at his rude and unfair comments, but he’s smiling as he says it.

Bucky just smiles back at him as he turns his attention back to the-

Tony leans over into his space and kisses him on the cheek. Bucky knows his eyes are wide as he looks over, and no doubt he’s blushing too as he clears his throat and goes, “That- um, you- what was that for?”

Tony shrugs, flush high on his cheeks as he says nonchalantly, like it’s no big deal, “You looked happy.”

Happy? Bucky almost clarifies- me? He hasn’t felt happy in- in a long time, so long that he’s not even sure he remembers what it feels like to be happy. But he looks at Tony, thinking of the peace and safety he feels when he’s with him, and he thinks of their laughter and he realizes, I am happy.

A couple of days later, Bucky’s grinning as he watches Dum-E and U argue over who gets to bring the tennis ball back to him when Tony does it again. Bucky’s aware that he’s approaching from the desk he was working at, but he is still utterly taken by surprise when Tony presses up close into his personal space, stretches up on his toes, and kisses his cheek. He’s gone as quick as he comes, going right back to his desk and the gauntlet he’s working on, but the same flush is high on his cheeks again.

“What was that for?” Bucky manages to ask, when he’s done gaping at Tony like a love-struck teenager.

Tony glances over at him as Dum-E drops the ball into his hand triumphantly. “You looked happy,” he says.

Bucky turns away and smiles.

It happens again and again, and again. Bucky asks every time and Tony gives the same answer every time: you looked happy.

And if Bucky finds himself coming to the workshop more often or asking for more movie nights to see if he can get a kiss on the cheek from Tony, well, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

Bucky is in the middle of arguing with Sam over who has the better taste in music when Tony enters the kitchen, half-asleep and clearly in search of coffee. Bucky stops his argument long enough to smile and say, “G’morning, Tony,” before he’s right back in the argument again.

“Now, hold on, I know you didn’t just insult Marvin Gaye!” Sam cries out, affronted.

“Of course I didn’t!” Bucky says, offended. “I like his music just fine, I was just merely pointin’ out that your taste in music could be improved if you listened to- what was that for?” he interrupts himself on autopilot when Tony sits down next to him at the kitchen counter and kisses his cheek before raising his mug to his lips.

“You looked happy,” Tony mumbles back his standard response, clearly still more asleep than awake as he sets his mug down on the counter and leans over to put his head on Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky smiles softly at him and brings his arm around his shoulders before he continues, “Like I was saying, your music taste could be improved if you listened to- what’s wrong with your face?”

“Excuse me?” Sam huffs, staring at him weirdly still. “Take a look in the mirror, Barnes, and are we just not going to address the elephant in the room?”

“You were the one who cut me off before I could tell you-”

“No, not that, when did you two become a thing?” Sam gestures wildly between him and Tony. Bucky just stares at him blankly. “The kiss on the cheek, Tony sleeping on your shoulder; when did you two start dating?”

“We’re not,” Bucky says, frowning at him. “Tony just kissed my cheek, it’s our thing, you got a problem with that?”

“Your what?”

“Our thing,” Bucky repeats, starting to get defensive. “It’s nice, I like it, and it’s none of your business.”

Sam raises his hands a little. “Not judging, man,” he’s quick to reassure. “Just didn’t expect it, I guess.”

“I kissed him cause he was happy,” Tony says softly into his shoulder like it’s the only necessary explanation, and it is.

Bucky glares at Sam, silently daring him to say anything either against their thing or Tony. “It’s sweet,” Sam says after a moment, giving Bucky an all-knowing grin like he’s aware of something that Bucky’s not. “Now, bionic man, tell me, exactly whose music is so good that it’ll refine my already perfect taste in music?”

Bucky snorts and off they go again, like nothing ever happened.

Tony continues on with the kisses after that, now just without care of whether they’re alone or not. When they’re together, Tony kisses him all the time: while they’re watching a movie, while they’re working on a car engine together, and even while they’re talking about what their plans are for the day.

Tony also kisses him while he’s baking, while he’s reading, and while he’s playing with Dum-E and U. If Tony’s up early to catch a flight and happens to come across him and Steve as they’re laughing and coming in from a jog, Tony kisses him. He’ll kiss him while he’s bickering with Sam about something, or while he’s competing with Clint about who’s the better sniper. (He is, but Clint isn’t willing to admit defeat yet.) Tony’ll kiss him while he’s eating breakfast with Nat, or listening to Thor’s stories of Asgard, and he’s even brave enough to interrupt his cooking sessions with Bruce in order to steal a kiss.

Every time Bucky asks, “What was that for?” and every time Tony always says, “You looked happy.”

It’s their thing.

“You know, that first time you kissed my cheek when we were watching National Treasure, that was the first time I’d been kissed since HYDRA captured me,” Bucky tells him one day as they’re lounging on the sofa together.

Tony sets his tablet aside and looks at him. “I didn’t know that,” he says, looking unsure for a moment, as if he’s trying to gauge how serious the conversation is. He must see the gleam in Bucky’s eye because he adds, “I’m glad I was your first though.”

Bucky snorts, laughing easily like he always does with Tony. “Yeah doll, me too.” He looks at Tony, taking in the warmth in his eyes, and then leans over to kiss his cheek. He lingers there for a moment and then pulls back, heart pounding.

Tony half raises his hand like he’s going to touch his cheek. His eyes are wide and his cheeks a little flushed; in the last four months he’s been kissing Bucky, Bucky has never kissed him back, until now. “What was that for?” Tony asks hoarsely.

Bucky shrugs and says nonchalantly, like it isn’t a big deal, “You looked happy.”

Tony’s blush deepens. “I’m- I’m always happy when I’m with you,” he says quietly.

Bucky leans forward so there’s only a few inches of space between them. “Can I kiss you?” he asks quietly.

Tony glances down at his lips briefly and then looks back up as he nods, saying softly, “yes.”

Bucky leans in and closes his eyes, kissing him gently.

“What was that for?” Tony whispers when he pulls back. 

“That was for always making me happy.”

Tony grins and kisses him again.

End.