#stevetony ficlet

[s-horne]

There was a time when Tony had panicked about his future. 

He’d had Peter young, just a couple of years into a crappy relationship that had fallen apart long before their bundle of joy had come and couldn’t be fixed even by Peter’s cherubic smile. From the very first moment, Tony had loved his boy. There hadn’t been a moment that Tony had regretted the relationship that had led him to his son, or ever wished that things had turned out differently. Not when Peter had had a phase as a baby of not sleeping through the night if the temperature wasn’t exactly 78 degrees, not when he’d learnt to talk and hadn’t exited his “why” phase for weeks on end, not even during the long weekend when Peter had caught pretty much every bug floating around his daycare all at once. 

Parenthood was where Tony thrived but, through it all, he’d lain awake at night and longed for someone next to him that wasn’t 2 feet tall and not quite potty trained. He’d wanted a conversation with another adult that wasn’t hurried at the drop-off gate or about yet another late project at work, and he’d wanted an arm around his waist when he was dangerously close to falling asleep whilst making himself his first coffee of the day. 

Everything he wanted for himself, he also wanted for Peter’s sake. He’d wanted someone else to see Peter’s drawings and marvel over them as they went up on the fridge day after day after day. He’d wished for presents from a grandparent at Christmas and another parent who could calm them both down when Peter refused to sleep even as the sun started to rise on the horizon. 

Tony had spent years worrying that no one would take on a small child with an absent parent who could come back and cause a storm at any time. He’d never expected anything to come from a one-night stand when the lights had been turned on in the morning and all of Peter’s toys could be seen in their scattered glory. 

But, then again, Tony had never imagined Steven Grant Rogers. 

.

They’d decided early into their planning that they didn’t want to do a walk down the aisle. Neither of Tony’s parents would be there to walk with him and Sarah had gotten so tearful at the prospect of their engagement alone that they didn’t trust her to be able to see to walk down the aisle on the wedding day itself. 

What they had decided instead was to have Peter as the star of the show, with the rings safely in his possession as he walked down the aisle to both of his parents waiting for him at the altar. 

And, boy, did he steal the show. 

Tony watched with a wide grin as Peter all but skipped up the aisle, his tuxedo so little it was almost comical. Casting a glance to his left, Tony felt something ridiculously fond catch in his chest at the pure and unabashed expression of love on Steve’s face as his eyes tracked Peter’s dance. 

“God, look at him,” Steve murmured.

“He’s gonna drop those rings before we can get them,” Tony laughed. 

“Yeah, probably. But he looks cute, so I’m sure we’ll survive without them.”

Tony scoffed. Be that as it may, he wanted a ring on his finger.

All of a sudden, Peter let out a gasp and started running. “Grandma!”

A ripple of laughter made its way through the guests as Peter headed straight for Steve’s mother. 

“Oh, look at you, my darling,” Sarah crooned, bending down and smoothing a hand over Peter’s hair when he reached her. “You look so gorgeous, little man."

"Hi, Grandma!"

"Hello, my love," Sarah laughed.

"Wanna sit with you!"

"Of course, but first you have to give Daddy the rings. They're very important.”

Peter took Sarah’s hand in a tight grip and practically shoved the ring cushion in Tony’s direction without looking at him. Steve laughed loudly, his eyes still solely on Peter as well.

Tony might have been jealous if he hadn’t been so relieved. So, yeah, he thought to himself as he untied the rings from the cushion and handed them to the officiant, he really needn’t have worried after all. 

[greymantledlady]

hi grey! i recently stumbled upon your blog and read one of your lovely stevetony ficlets — the one with steve finding tony in bed cuddling a bunch of kittens and i just wanted to say it is one of the loveliest, cutest, softest, most wonderful things i’ve ever read. i’ve been having a hard time lately, going through lots of big changes irl, and gosh that fic was just so comforting. i teared up when tony revealed the reason why he brought the kittens home, how he just didn’t want to be alone, how he needed some company. that line just resonated with me so much and the next thing i knew my vision became blurry with tears. your writing is just so lovely, so gentle and soft and comforting, it genuinely felt so cozy, like falling asleep in a warm bed with my comfort movie playing softly in the background. it’s like the universe heard me, understood what i needed, and led me straight to your stevetony ficlet. i’m so excited to learn that you have a stevetony ficlet tag on your blog, and i can’t wait to read the rest of your stevetony ficlets. thank you for writing about the boys being soft and in love. your fic gave me a warm hug when i needed one.

love,

earl 🤍

Omg, this was such a sweet message to get, thank you! I'm so glad you found my ficlet comforting 💙 and I hope you're okay and things become easier for you soon. Sending you love + hugs! 🥰

[sunnysideprincess]

Tony, with all his reputation as a playboy billionaire, is a little slow on the uptake. Natasha noticed this shortly after moving in with the team. He was genuinely unaware of the way ladies would drag their sunglasses down to their nose just to see the swing of his hips or the slow roll of his shirt sleeves. Pepper, despite their mutually thought break up, still drools a little when Tony's nimble fingers work the tie loose. And yeah, Nat wouldn't say no to a wild weekend away with the genius on a secluded cabin on the hill—doing nasty, nasty things to that tush.

But nothing compares Tony's oblivious nature when it comes to the men around him.

The way he drives Tiberus Stone crazy during the Met Gala, wearing a corset that's tight enough to give Victorian Era ladies a run for their money. The way one of the military brats shamelessly stares at his throat, licking his lips and subtly adjusting his pants. The way Barnes whines when Tony comes out of the armor, wearing the tight-just right-flight suit. The way Steve punches a hole in the refridgerator when he sees his shirt sitting loose on Tony's bare chest. (Apparently Tony and Nat are the resident clothing thieves. She doesn't disagree because Bruce's shirts and Clint's jackets look good on her.)

She sees it while tracing the spots on her mug. The resident genius billionaire is listing sideways, on the verge of falling off his perch on the counter top—because normal seats are for losers, he said. His head bumps on the shelving unit above and he mutters a curse, stretches his arm up to swat at it like it's a fly. But her attention catches at the stillness of two super soldiers staring at the patch of skin—a tiny sliver around the waist, the curve of the hip bone winking at them.

Tony yawns, jumps down to the floor and the loosely fitted sweats slide an inch below their designated spot. Something cracks and Nat watches them—the two Brooklyn boys pushing away their broken chopsticks and slowly, with the stillness of a pack of predators, rising up from their seats.

"I'm gonna go upstairs, use my bed for once," Tony tells them and sends Nat a slow smile. A knowing one.

He swings his hips around, humming an off beat tune and doesn't bother checking his own disheveled state of clothes.

It takes them all a moment to understand, and then Steve and Barnes are racing out of the kitchen after him, only to have the elevator doors slam on their faces.

Huh.

Looks like Tony might not be so oblivious after all.

[fohatic]

(manip by me, original poster by art chantry)

welp there's a (short!) fic now 😏

for the "kink: condoms are fun!" square of my @cap-ironman stony bingo round 2 card, 1.5k, rated E:

Like so many 21st-century notions that most modern folks took for granted, getting Steve Rogers onboard with the idea of condoms for gay sex was yet another concept that required some getting used to. As ever, Tony was more than willing to help him adjust to it -- was particularly eager, in fact, to demonstrate it for him. 

So he took Steve’s hesitant objections in stride. Though he conceded that STDs weren't actually an issue between them, Tony still felt obligated to get Steve up-to-date on one of the primary functions of using protection. He didn’t blame the poor guy for assuming that “VD” was only something that men contracted from women, given how the sex-ed propaganda of Steve’s time pointedly ignored the existence of homosexuals at every turn (yes, Tony had become quite the WWII-era culture buff ever since he and Steve got together). “Rubbers,” ergo, were only used to prevent pregnancy and war effort-undermining cooties from ‘loose women,’ as far as Steve was concerned.

He hadn’t yet learned about the AIDS epidemic. He hadn’t learned anything at all, really, about homosexuality, aside from what little he’d gleaned from his limited exposure to different cultures and social norms during his stint as a soldier. Just getting him to come out of his internalized-homophobic shell even a little bit after Tony had finally figured out that the tension between them stemmed from a sex thing rather than the other kind of dick-versus-asshole thing was a huge challenge all on its own; one which Tony had only persevered through because he was already way too far-gone on the guy by then to consider giving up. 

But now— after way too much dithering and denial and a gradually-dawning acceptance of the earth-shattering truth of the matter— they were finally fucking each other. Enthusiastically, and often. Tony’s patience had won out big time, and his rewards just kept on coming. And coming. And coming.

Turns out, Steve has a refractory period that’s basically non-existent. One of the many benefits of being serum-enhanced. Truly, Tony has no complaints on that score, considering his own notoriously rabid sex drive. Match made in heaven, in all honesty. It would seem that Steve is intent on making up for lost time, and Tony is only too happy to oblige him at every opportunity—

—which is where the condom thing comes in. Tony doesn’t mind that they’re fucking like rabbits now. It’s great! Amazing! Best thing that’s ever happened to him, really! But honestly— it can get kinda messy, given how Steve seems determined to fuck on every conceivable surface he can think of -- and often during moments that might not be entirely convenient, such as in the immediate aftermath of a mission; be that during touchdown at SHIELD headquarters when he and Tony are still suited up, or even on the freshly-vacated Quinjet on a number of occasions... -- occasions which their teammates definitely weren’t as oblivious to as Steve had been quick to assume in his lust-clouded fever (Tony had seen Nat’s knowing look after Steve had asserted his captain’s voice to tell him, “Stark: hang back a moment. There’s something I need to discuss with you in private.”) He was so disastrously conspicuous sometimes, but Tony wasn't bothered by it. He just found it ridiculously charming. 

So Tony’s started carrying condoms around with him at all times now, knowing that Steve’s delightfully unhinged libido could strike at any moment. It's his privilege to always be ready for him. 

The first time Tony fished one of these out of his pocket and pressed it against Steve’s big, warm chest during a heated make-out session in the locker room, Steve frowned down at the little packet with the most adorably confused expression Tony had ever seen on a full-grown human. 

“...A rubber?”

“Uh huh,” Tony had breathed out, eagerly rolling his hips against the massive thigh still shoved between his legs. 

“What for?”

It was actually really funny, just how nonplussed his face looked in that moment. Tony bit back his reaction to laugh, though, knowing how sensitive Steve could be when he thought Tony was laughing at him. 

“For sex,” Tony grinned, deliberately pressing his hard-on against the larger man and feeling a little giddy with how much he wanted exactly that, pronto. “What else?”

“We’re both fellas, though,” Steve needlessly pointed out, getting that deep furrow between his brows as a particularly splotchy flush spread over his face -- Tony knew by now that these together were more of an indication of embarrassment than arousal. Uh oh. 

It was sometimes a bit of a tightrope walk, maintaining a modern homosexual relationship with a man as complicated as Steve Rogers. Tony was still learning how to navigate his changeable moods and specific triggers, but it was a task he was surprised to find himself more than willing to put up with. It was actually kind of thrilling, the way he was always keeping Tony on his toes.

So that first, clumsy attempt in the locker room hadn’t convinced Steve that condoms were a convenient means of mitigating the messier aspects of assfucking, which in retrospect was Tony’s bad: Steve wasn’t wrong when he'd pointed out that the showers were right there.

Then later that week, when Tony tried again by attempting to argue that condoms were actually “fun,” Steve had gotten a bit petulant when he'd mistakenly jumped to the very erroneous conclusion that Tony didn’t actually like getting pumped full of an unholy amount of hot supersoldier jizz on the regular. On the contrary, it was something he often enjoyed with a zeal that bordered on some kind of perversion… Only, there was a time and place for indulging in what basically amounted to a serious cum-inflation kink, which—in his modest opinion—was best enjoyed in the comfort of an actual bedroom. 

Later, ensconced in the privacy of said bedroom, he explained this to Steve. In so much detail. He made sure to be very clear about what he liked and when/where he liked it, ensuring that there would be no doubt as to how sincerely he meant it by encouraging Steve to properly fill him up right there on his oversized bed. Then—just because Steve seemed to really appreciate these sorts of practical demonstrations—Tony made it very clear what occurred afterwards, illustrating this by strutting naked around the bedroom and letting Steve’s jizz drip down between his legs while he continued to elaborate on the pros and cons of letting Steve put him in such a state while out in public. He definitely had Steve’s rapt attention, this time.

Still, he didn’t fully sell his argument until the following weekend, when they’d been out together at that gala all night in their well-tailored formalwear, making eyes at each other in between all the endless schmoozing and sipping from champagne flutes and munching on canapes. 

Steve found a little secluded balcony that wasn’t in use, because of course he did. Say what you will about him being a late bloomer; there was no denying that the guy had quite the aptitude for arranging semi-covert assignations at a moment’s notice. 

He wasn’t wearing his utility belt, though, which meant that he didn’t have his handy dandy lube tube that he’d taken to carrying around these days. So when Tony caught him trying to spit on his fingers after getting a hand down Tony's pants and squeezing Tony’s ass in a signal he’d come to recognize as Steve’s signature “I wanna fuck you right now” move, he intercepted him just in time to demonstrate the magic of 21st-century lubricated condoms.

Getting to bend Tony over the railing like that and have at him at the drop of his $3000 pants with no prep required—then coming profusely into Tony’s grateful ass without spilling a single drop of superspunk on either of their very nice garments—was something of an eye-opening experience for Steve Rogers. 

He could admit, afterwards— as they righted their clothing and kissed like they’d been waiting all night to get their mouths on each other in order to finally breathe properly— that Tony might’ve actually had a point about the “rubbers.” 

“They’re fun, aren’t they?” Tony smirked as he smoothed his hands down the fine weave of Steve’s black dinner jacket, continually enamored with the way that all that broadness narrowed down to such a grabbable little waist. “...Anytime, anywhere.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, looking at Tony with a fondness that couldn’t possibly have just been about the whole condom thing. Sometimes when Steve looked at him like that, it felt like his insides were melting; like Steve could reduce him to literal goo with just a look. Quite the superpower, that one. 

Steve’s eyes did that funny thing where they grew impossibly warmer as he reached to fix Tony’s hair with gentle fingers, telling him, “I think I’m coming around to the idea.”

♡

[no-gorms]

Steve/Tony, Hanahaki, UST, open ending

It is an unfortunate fact of Tony’s history that he’s familiar with the longing disease. Lung gardening. Hanahaki, or whatever other euphemisms they’ve come up with lately to describe it.

Naming conventions aside, Tony’s knows well enough what the affliction feels like – the warning sting at the back of the throat that’s followed by the pressure of something more personal, more vicious than mere phlegm. The body’s breathing apparatus has decided to betray its owner, and Tony’s had it enough times that he could be embarrassed, if he were the sort of person to be embarrassed by that kind of thing.

A cough, a heave, and then petals are cascading in a disgusting shower onto the tabletop. At least the tabletop is glass, which is easy to clean, and Tony’s reflexes were fast enough that he’d pushed Hill’s paper folder of printouts clear away.

Most people would be grateful to have their symptoms manifest in privacy. Those who do not, get used to the shocked silence that follows.

“Oh no,” comes Bruce’s voice from Tony’s left. Quiet, worried.

“Maybe—” Natasha clears her throat, businesslike, “—we can take five?”

“Ah, shit.” Tony straightens up and dabs at his mouth with a handkerchief. He eyes the pile of petals with a scowl, noting that they’re bright-colored blooms, as if he’s twenty years old all over again and doesn’t know any better. “Fantastic. Just what we needed today.”

“Yeah, we can take five—” Clint starts.

“As if we don’t have enough to do.” Tony sighs. “Goddammit, Steve.”

“What?” Steve says.

Being an old hat at surviving Hanahaki also means that Tony knows the faces he’ll see when he looks around the table. There’ll be surprise, concern, empathy, and discomfort in various combinations, and Tony gets all of that and then some, because the Avengers have so far rolled with a number of far greater inconveniences with grace.

“Look.” Tony takes one last cleaning swipe of his face with the handkerchief and drops it on the pile. “It’s not your fault, I’m not blaming you, but you gotta step up on this if we’re gonna make the flight out in time to follow Thor’s lead.”

“I, what—” Steve blinks twice, quick and robotic, before those same eyes widen.

Ah, so this is a surprise to Steve, which might be even more irritating than the Hanahaki itself. Tony could try to be half-full-cup about it and take it from the angle that this means that he hadn’t been too ridiculous openly about his burgeoning crush on the good Captain. But that would take more effort than he’s willing to expend.

It was supposed to be just admiration. Idle feelings to be nurtured like a baby bird of a side hobby. Good fucking going, Stark. What had Steve even been doing to make it tip over? Squinting at Natasha’s slide with that stoic yet judgmental purse of the mouth that usually has Tony internally clapping his hands with glee?

That could do it.

“Yeah, I know, it’s stupid,” Tony says, waving it off. “You don’t even like me as a human being, but I’m a masochist that way sometimes. Good news is, I’m also fickle, so it probably won’t be that hard to make me hate you. By this afternoon, hopefully? Or whenever you’re ready, I’m sure you’ll figure something out, but anyway this is still…” He eyes the pile of petals. “This is way early stages, we’ll have weeks, but the sooner the better.”

“What do you mean I don’t like you as a human being?” Steve says, as though that’s the most important part of what Tony just said.

“You need to be mean to me, okay?” Tony says.

Bafflement animates Steve’s normally poster-handsome face. Bafflement, and then offense, as though Tony just asked him to kick puppies, which Tony would never do, and anyway Tony isn’t a puppy. Steve can be mean, sometimes by accident and sometimes on purpose, and those glimpses of candid moments are so rare – for Tony, at least, since the others know Steve far better than Tony ever could – that Tony has and does treasure every single one.

Unfortunately, this thought sends a wave of affection rolling through Tony’s brain, which is followed by a wave of petals rolling out of Tony’s mouth. And this time they do destroy Hill’s folder of printouts.

He recovers faster this time, which may or may not be helped by Bruce patting his back gently.

“Sorry, correction.” Tony wheezes through an inhale. “You need to be mean to me, and not in a sexy way.”

“What—?” Steve starts.

“Stark means that you need to be cruel to him to stunt his feelings for you,” Thor says, nodding solemnly. “But to not use language that he’d find appealing. ‘Tis a fine line, indeed, I understand the challenge there.”

“Thor,” Bruce says.

“What?” Thor says.

“Right,” Clint says, “I think we should not be here for this.”

“We were finishing up anyway.” Tony stands up and shoves all the petals into the folder that will be going into the trash pronto. “I need to do a health scan but you guys can keep going with that entry route, and let me know what you’ve decided before suit up, yeah?“

“Tony,” Steve says. “You’re—that’s dangerous—”

“Yes, yes, I am aware,” Tony says irritably. “Romanoff, have my back?”

“We do face death on the regular,” Natasha says. “This is manageable.”

“See.” Tony points at Steve. “I’ll work on my part, but you have to do yours. Mean. You can do it, I believe in you. Just maybe… don’t use Howard?” He sighs. “No, you should probably use Howard. Anyway, I’ll be in lab, give me a buzz if there’s anything.”

Tony goes with a careless wave over his shoulder, and waits until he’s out of the room and the door is closed before he lets himself wince.

Could’ve gone worse, actually.

[johnnystorms]

avengers twilight!steve, on regrets, memories and tony stark. written post-avengers twilight #002. stevetony.

Steve has a lot of regrets. Tony—not the real one, the best friend he lost on the day he lost everything, but the one he keeps in his head, his mind’s best attempt at a ghost of the person he misses most—says that’s inevitable, living as long as Steve has.

C’mon, Cap, he says, smiling that way his Tony used to: eyes as bright as the future he was always talking about, everything in him shining. Or maybe that’s just how he looked to Steve, young enough back then to not yet have blinked the stars from his eyes. You live long enough, you run the risk of anything outweighing the good memories. His smile fades, not enough to disappear, but to become something smaller, quieter. Tinged with something requiring care. Do me a favour, handsome. Try not to let that happen to you.

Steve doesn’t like disappointing Tony Stark, not even the one dreamed up inside his head, but he thinks it might be too late on that front.

If someone asked for a list of regrets, he’d have to give that wry, hoarse laugh that makes him sound as old as he feels, and say, Nobody has time to listen to all that. If someone had asked Tony, he’d have a breathtakingly clever quip or an outpouring of guilt, depending on his mood, and who had asked. If it had been Steve, maybe both. Matt would have thought about it, long and hard, and disappeared to a confession booth. Peter – Jessica – Logan – Carol – all of them, he thinks, would have their own laundry list of hauntings, justified or otherwise.

That’s the name of the game, he thinks. You have to take the wins for what they are, but it doesn’t make the losses any lighter to bear. Steve’s posture isn’t what it used to be, even with the Defenders’ replicated super soldier serum in his veins, but his shoulders were shaking under the crushing weight of all his mistakes long before his age caught up to his body.

Janet isn’t here anymore to ask, but he doesn’t know what she’d say. It’s not that he thinks she has no regrets—even outside of the hero business, that’s a tall order for anyone—so much as that’s not how he remembers her. When he thinks of Janet van Dyne, he thinks of her deft fingers readjusting the lapel of the suit she designed and Tony cajoled him into; he thinks of her tinkling laugh almost being swallowed up by Thor’s booming one, the two of them bent double at the disgruntled expression Clint was shooting their way one golden night back when the world knew what heroes were meant to be; and he thinks of her clever, smiling mouth, and the way nobody could ever resist smiling right back. Steve had been no exception.

He misses it so fiercely it burns. Jan’s smile and Thor’s relentless steadiness and even Peter’s terrible jokes as he chased the Human Torch around the city. Carol’s quick fists and Jessica’s quick thinking and Natasha’s quick draw, and the time the three of them had a punch-up contest with the Thing that ended in an exasperated Tony footing the bill to the city and Johnny cackling as Sue dressed down Ben for his part in it. Luke’s laughter as he slung his arm over Danny’s shoulder and Jessica Jones taking photos of the two of them and Logan and Bobbi in the corner, trading tales of Hawkeye’s Greatest Hits: Indecent Exposure edition.

And Tony—always, always Tony. The press of him against Steve’s side, a reassuring line of heat, like, hey, you’re not alone anymore. You’re not cold anymore. You have a team. You have me. His tired eyes and easy smile and razor-sharp wit, even half-dead on his feet. The late nights where Steve coaxed him out of his lab with a hot drink and the promise of conversation, the early mornings where Steve would wear a worried frown and say, you should really sleep more, Tony, and Tony would grin at him and say, and give up these early mornings where you bring me coffee and those big blue eyes of yours? Never, and Steve would sigh, but there would be something fond tugging at the corner of his lips, and Tony would look all pleased with himself, animated in a way no caffeine fix could ever cause, and Steve would want—

Steve swallows.

You’re drifting, baby. It’s Jan’s voice, that classic combination of fond amusement and concern that Clint used to perk up at being addressed with and Tony used to call the van Dyne special, all those years ago. God, Steve misses them all. He aches with wanting. You’re drifting. Bring it back home, Steve. Start with the most important bit. Let’s take it from the top.

There isn’t a team to report to anymore. It is not a new fact, a new thought, but every time, it hits him like a concrete block to the ribs.

There isn’t a team to report to anymore, but Steve Rogers breathes in, and thinks about it anyway. Take it from the top. The most important things.

How the tables turn, Tony says. He’s the only one Steve keeps. All his other ghosts flit in and out of his head, coming and going like the tides, but Tony is the forever haunting. The only one his mind holds onto on a permanent basis. D’you remember, oh, all the way back near the start -- one time you asked me if it got exhausting, thinking so much.

Steve remembers. Steve has never forgotten anything Tony Stark gave him, be it physical or a vow or just the smallest memory that wasn’t intended as a secret but became one in Steve’s desperate hands. The world has taken so much from him, from all of them, ever since H-day. He can’t talk about Tony, because what if the world takes that from him too?

How the tables turn, Tony says again, soft in that way most people didn’t believe Tony Stark could be. Steve knew, though. Steve’s always known. You look exhausted, Steve. Don’t let it be so big. Just -- right now, right at this moment. What’s the call, Cap?

That was what Tony had said that day, Steve remembers. The world was on fire, and about to become a whole lot colder, and they didn’t know that, didn’t know anything about what was to come, just that this was it, this was the moment, this was the do or die, and Tony had stood at his shoulder, the armour a familiar comfort against Steve’s side, and asked, What’s the call, Cap?

An itemised list of all of Steve Rogers’ regrets would take too long, and a ranked list of all time would be impossible to decide upon when Steve has such a long memory and even longer history.

So, in its stead, Steve thinks, he’ll give Tony the right now.

STEVE ROGERS’ TOP THREE REGRETS RIGHT AT THIS VERY MOMENT, 0142HRS, DEC 31 20XX, COUNTING DOWN:

3. Rosa. He’d deserved the slap. He’d deserved a lot of things, really. He’d had good years with Rosa; years of her no-nonsense love, of her careful hands, of the way she looked at him in the quiet of the night with all the warmth their little home could hold, like she still saw something worth believing in him. Maybe she did. He thinks she probably did. His wife was a lot of things, most of them good, but above all else, she was never a liar.

He’s sorry he blew up her life. He’s sorrier about that than the fact he blew up their life together, but that’s always the way it goes with him, isn’t it? There’s nothing he’s felt he had to keep more than the shield. It’s not that they matter less to him—God help him, but it’s not about the love. There’s never been a lack of love—but to his bones, to his core, he’s always been the guy who wants to stand up and help. If the fight needs to be had, he’s going to stand there, fists up, no matter who he is, no matter how old he is. No matter how super he is.

He knew that about himself a long time ago. Maybe if he’d stopped pretending that had changed, Rosa wouldn’t be stuck here now.

2. It’s a little one, in the scheme of things, but it also feels more important than almost anything else at this moment. He wishes he’d touched Matt, that last time they saw each other. Gone are the days where Steve would clasp his friends by the hand, something lost to time and loneliness and gradually brittled bones, but he wishes desperately that he’d clasped his hand to Matt’s shoulder one last time. Just a moment. Just enough for some phantom warmth on his palms, a tangible ghost of Daredevil, not just something dreamed up by his mind in the moments when losing almost everyone he’s ever trusted is insurmountable.

1. He doesn’t know where to begin with this one. H-day. The way it went down. Peter bleeding out in front of him. James Stark growing up without his parents, the best of them both twisted into something Steve can’t look at directly without feeling hopeless, helpless. Clint’s arrow snapped in half, a crater where the Thing should be. His last sight of Reed Richards, stretching further than he’d ever seen before as he reached out desperately towards his wife. Tony’s voice in his ear: what’s the call, Cap?

And that’s what it comes down to, isn’t it? His biggest regret. This one, he suspects wouldn’t change even if it was an all-time list. Tony Stark, the vibrant, blaring truth of him. Something Steve misses so desperately that when the world forced him to live without him, he made up a version of him to keep in his head forever.

It’s more similar to #2 than he thought. He has so many regrets, and so many of them are about Tony Stark—about that day, about missing people, about loving people and losing them because of the fight, whether they were lost in the fight or he left them behind to join it—but more than anything, he thinks he misses the feeling of Tony’s hand in his, pulling him in close, arm going around Steve’s shoulder to draw him into a hug.

I’m not half as good at anything as I am when I’m doing it next to you, Tony says, years ago, so far away from this moment that it might as well have been another world, and Steve, old and jaded and lonely and tired and missing the person he loves best so fiercely it aches in his lungs, thinks, You and me both, Tony. You and me both.

You and me. You and me. You and me.

-

(When the dossier falls open in front of him, with a blueprint of a tank and photos of him—photos of Tony, and even Tony in pieces makes Steve ache with something he thought had long been buried—spill out, let’s get it from the world’s smartest man, Tony Stark echoing in his ears—

Steve, for a moment, wants to throw up.

Then his jaw sets.

All right, Tony, he thinks. He doesn’t know if he’s addressing the ghost in his head, or the one in the tank, or some nebulous third thing, a Hail Mary thrown to the universe, some last passage of faith he thought he’d forgotten. What’s the call? You and me. That’s the call. I’m getting you out of there.

I’m bringing you home.)

[frankthesnek]

♡ sharing a kiss before going in for work (but make it accidental first kiss due to sleep deprivation)

Normally, I only do each prompt once, but since this is so different from the other ask for this one I'll do it again! Thank you 😘

Coming in Hot

Rated G

Prompt: a kiss before going to work

900 words

Steve stood next to the toaster, tapping his fingers on the counter as he waited for his bagel to be done. It was early, and the tower was calm. He'd seen Clint and Natasha preparing for their sparring session an hour or so earlier, but otherwise, it was a ghost town. The toaster finally finished, the crisp pop and ding of it shutting off startling him in the quiet of the kitchen. He plopped his breakfast onto a plate and checked his watch.

It wouldn't be a ghost town much longer, he would bet. Pulling the cream cheese from the fridge, he settled at the breakfast bar and finished preparing his food as he waited.

“Watch it Cap, Stark's coming in hot,” Clint drawled with an amused tone as he entered the kitchen a moment later.

“You don't say?” Steve asked, unsurprised and dry sounding.

The archer just nodded, looking far too happy as he poured the last of the coffee into a mug. 

“Fuck I'm late!” Right on cue Tony entered the space, tie hanging undone around his neck as he fumbled with his cufflinks. “Why does she keep scheduling meetings so early? She knows I'm not a morning person.”

“This wouldn't happen to be the meeting Pepper already rescheduled twice because you keep missing it?” Steve asked, the casualness in his tone giving away that he already knew the answer. 

“Maybe,” Tony grumbled as he picked up the empty coffee pot and frowned. “Barton, I'm gonna kill you,” he promised, glaring at the other man's steaming cup of coffee.

In response, Clint deliberately took a slow drink, holding Tony's eye while he did. 

“Definitely gonna get you. I swear your next batch of arrows is gonna blow up right in your smug little face,” Tony cursed and made a grab for the nearly full mug.

“Extra coffee for you on the bar,” Steve said, pointing to a thermus he'd filled earlier. “Better hurry, if you don't leave now, you'll be late.”

“Thank you,” Tony nearly moaned and picked up the travel cup.

“Uh-huh,” Steve drawled and held up half of his bagel before Tony could try stealing it from his plate. 

“Thanks,” Tony repeated with a sigh, taking it gladly. “Why do you know my schedule better than me?”

“Tony, the hotdog vendor in Central Park knows your schedule better than you do,” Clint piped up with a snort of laughter.

Steve chuckled, and he watched Tony hold the bagel in his mouth as he quickly did his tie. Nimble fingers tugging it into a knot that had no right to be as neat as it was for how fast it had been made. 

“I refuse to acknowledge the truth of that,” Tony spoke around a mouth full and held the thermus up towards Steve. “Is it—”

“Cool enough to drink? Yes.” Steve supplied, taking a bite from his remaining half of the bagel.

“You're an angel,” Tony said blissfully. Then he leaned over the bar and pressed a fast but firm kiss to Steve's mouth before rushing out, already calling the elevator via Jarvis before he left the room. 

Steve's bagel fell from his lax fingers, plopping back to the plate cream cheese side down.

“Did he just?” Clint asked, looking over at Steve with wide eyes.

“Uh…yeah,” Steve muttered, dumbstruck, his lips tingling from the surprise contact.

“And you guys aren't?”

“Nope.” 

The two men stared at each other for a moment in confused silence. Steve felt his cheeks grow hot. Tony, his friend and long-term crush, had just kissed him. Lips warm, soft, and real against his mouth. Clint was giving him a knowing smirk but was thankfully holding his tongue. A moment later, the quiet was broken by the buzzing of Steve’s phone on the counter.

“It's Tony,” he said, looking down at the smiling picture of Tony in his purple sunglasses that was set as the man’s icon. The heat of flush skirted down his neck and settled in his chest.

“Speaker, put him on speaker,” Clint demanded, coming to stand next to his friend.

Swallowing Steve swiped the call open and tapped the speaker function. “Hello?”

“I can't believe I'm even going to ask this but I'm rushed, suffering from a caffeine deficiency, and am severely sleep deprived so the last fifteen minutes are a blur—did I just kiss you?”

“Um, yes?”

Tony said nothing, only the quiet shuffle of him still rushing to his car coming through the phone.

“Hey playboy, this is the part where you ask him out,” Clint supplied, flinching away before Steve could swat him. 

“Do you have me on speaker?” Tony questioned, his tight voice sounding more flustered than angry.

“Maybe?” Steve hedged.

“Oh for Christ—” and the line clicked off.

“Wow, if that's how smooth he normally is, I can't imagine how he used to snag all the ladies. Must be the money,” Clint chuckled, picking up his coffee and heading off. 

Sighing and shaking his head, Steve poked his sad upside down bagel. Just as he was starting to think it truly had been an accident and meant nothing, his phone buzzed with a text from Tony. Steve smiled as he read it. 

‘Free for a lunch date after my meeting?’

Steve started to type out that, yes, he was free when a new message popped up, turning his smile into a joyful grin.

‘And that does not count as our first kiss!!’

[soliloquent-stark]

Do u think when stevetony first get together there’s a fight for who gets which side of the bed? Because I think so 🤔

dear anon, i am SO glad you asked this. you have no idea what monster you've created with this question.

my short answer: yes.

my long answer:

stony ficlet: the left side of the bed

steve noticed it from the moment he started spending the night in tony's room, when their supposedly casual sex slowly started turning into more — tony always went for the left side of the bed, much to steve's dismay. as a result, he'd have restless nights full of tosses and turns, every single time. if only he could sleep on that same side...

the thing is, steve didn't have a preference just for the sake of it. between sharing a tiny bed with his mom as a child and being in a literal war, he could fall asleep anywhere. hell, tony's bed is too soft for him anyway, and sometimes the floor seemed more inviting.

so, this wasn't about him being fastidious. this was about safety: steve always had to be the closest person to the door, so he could be the first one in the line of fire, so he could protect the other person. and it just so happens that, the way the room is set up, the side near the exit was the left one.

he didn't want to bring it up and make it into a thing, so one day, a few weeks into their new and fragile relationship, he simply settled in that spot while tony was in the bathroom. he figured it was a minor enough gesture; surely he didn't need to ask?

to say it pissed tony off was an understatement.

he didn't even give a reason why this was so important to him — and steve had witnessed him sleeping diagonally on his workbench, and in a chair while slouched on the table during meetings, and even standing against a goddamn doorframe once.

"if i remember correctly, and i always do, you were leaning on the right side of it", steve had said. "but i dunno, maybe it was more comfortable than this perfectly fine right side of your bed?"

tony only got more upset.

"i dunno," he parroted, "was the ice more comfortable than this perfectly fine right side of the bed?"

it was a low blow, but steve didn't take the bait. he found no other option but to admit to tony the truth about his hang-up, which somehow escalated the situation further.

"for fuck's sake steve, you don't need to be a fucking human shield! you're off duty, and i'm no damsel in distress."

it's not that steve thought iron man needed his safeguarding. but that's how his brain was wired. he needed to protect — he'd already let down so many people in his life. he hadn't been able to get his mom medical help, he hadn't stopped bucky from falling, and he already had witnessed tony fly to his near-death once, as part of a team steve was the leader of. guarding became his default mode. but tony was so stubborn and he simply didn't get it.

steve just sighed, but tony must have sensed his discomfort, because the fight seemed to leave his body.

then, with a soft and tentative voice, tony admitted to steve that he preferred that side because it had always been how he slept, since childhood. he always left the other part of the bed empty, and his mother would often sit there as she tucked him in, with a kiss on his forehead and a caress on his cheek.

"that's an example of the gentle side of her parenting that howard wasn't allowed to see because he'd disapprove of coddling me," tony had said. "her affection happened mostly behind the closed doors of my room, and we weren't caught once, because he never came to say goodnight."

steve felt his heart ache as he wordlessly rolled to the other side of the bed, making space for tony in his designated spot, and opening his arms for a hug.

he should have realized that tony was just like him, and that the reasons behind his neuroses were often tied to the same worries and trepidations that also drove steve mad.

it's not going to be easy to sleep like this, he had thought as he was holding his boyfriend close to his chest, but it's okay. it's for tony.

however, the following evening, when he entered the bedroom and saw that tony had moved everything around so that the right side of the bed was facing the door, he laughed with relief.

"i find solutions for everything, don't i," tony joked. "not like it wasn't the obvious thing to do, anyways."

but steve was aware that by doing what he did, he had totally messed up his carefully designed layout; even steve could admit that the room looked a bit silly now. somehow, tony genuinely seemed unbothered by it, and was just pleased that this way, nobody had to compromise on the quality of their sleep.

steve fell a little bit in love, just then.

gif sources: due date (2010) and before we go (2014)

find longer fics on my ao3

[otpcutie]

Burning Bright (0.5k)

Summary (Stony, M): Steve asks Tony about a new friend of his.

Contains: Nonsexual D/s, puppy play, sub/puppy Steve, Owner/dom Tony, jealousy, reassurance, fluff, affection (more on AO3)

A/N: this includes a prompt I received for any pairing + "Oh, so they are just a friend, right? That's what you're telling me?"

@stonyauniverse fill: jealousy / @cap-ironman Stony Bingo fill: vulnerability / @cabottombingo fill: free space / @steverogersbingo fill: hair petting/brushing kink / @tonystarkbingo fill: kink: dom/sub / @hurtcomfort-bingo fill: care

Preview below:

“Oh, so they’re just a friend, right?” 

The question gave Tony pause. 

Steve may have sounded deceptively calm but his gaze had fallen to the carpet and Tony could see the emotions tightly wound in his body, giving himself away. 

His eyes flicked up to Tony’s, big and beautiful. It made his heart clench—they told him everything Steve was too afraid to say.

His voice was achingly shy, barely above a whisper when he rested his chin on Tony's knee, those distracting long lashes fanning his cheeks. “That’s what you’re telling me?”

♥︎ Continue on AO3 ♥︎ My Masterlist ♥︎

[stonyisforever]

Seasons of Life

Steve never appreciated the seasons until Tony entered his life.

Finding himself captivated by the enchanting sight of Tony's hair gracefully dancing in the gentle, spring breeze. The warm sunlight casting its golden beams upon Tony's eyes, illuminating the mesmerizing copper hues speckled within. His cheeks flushed rosy from the heat of the day and the trek from the rental cabin.

Tony’s hand firmly clasps his own before he’s led to a tranquil spot overlooking the pond, then is guided down to settle onto the damp grass beneath the shelter of an elm tree. The water rippling and shimmering brilliantly as a family of ducks casually swim by.

“Didn’t really have a chance to prepare a proper meal,” Tony admits, subconsciously rubbing the nape of his neck. “Only managed to pack some cold pizza and a couple beers.”

A faint smile tugs at the corners of Steve’s lips at Tony’s dismal attempt towards a romantic gesture. “Sounds perfectly good to me.”

The dazzling grin he receives is well worth the meager meal.

It’s worth anything.

~*~

With summer’s arrival, they’re afforded a trip to the beach. Allowing Steve to quietly admire the rivulets of water tracing along the contours of Tony’s body. His skin sun-kissed and shiny from poorly applied sunscreen. The undersized, gold and red speedo clearly chosen to scandalize Rhodey—who’s pointedly moved down shore with Pepper—rather than for the sake of fashion sense.

“I chased Jaws away,” Tony teases as he trudges out of the water. “It’s safe to come in now.”

“Oh, really?” Steve automatically plays along, enjoying the banter they’ve mastered over the years. “Did Iron man show up when I wasn’t looking?”

Feigning offense, Tony theatrically presses his hand to his chest. “Why, Cap, are you insinuating I’m weak and helpless?”

“Of course not,” Steve deadpans. “After such an impressive display of strength, surely carrying a frightened, super soldier without the armor would be a piece of cake for you. Wouldn’t it, Shellhead?”

A spark of challenge fleets across Tony’s face, causing Steve to raise his brows expectantly. “Exactly right.” Tony puffs out his chest in show of his determination. “Allow me to demonstrate.”

Later that night, Tony insists to the team the terrible aches from pulled muscles in his arms are due to jellyfish stings. And by morning, Steve ensures the comical sketch of jellyfish lifting dumbbells is placed strategically on the pillow beside Tony’s head.

~*~

Autumn brings an array of color and cooler temperatures. Enticing them to take a walk through the park to admire the changing colors. Leaves crunching underfoot as they stroll along, observing other couples intertwined and lost in their own worlds.

Steve appreciates Tony’s decision to wear the turtleneck sweater he gifted him, but remains concerned by strange discolored veins crawling up Tony’s skin towards his ear.

“Have you ever wondered if this is the only life we get?” Tony asks, apropos nothing, and stops to intently observe the leaves fluttering down.

There’s something oddly melancholy about his demeanor, but Steve’s long since embraced Tony’s vacillating moods.

“Sometimes,” he admits, shifting uncomfortably. “But, who knows?”

Tony swallows, the muscles of his throat visibly straining to do so. “What if we never see each other again?”

Steve blinks, momentarily taken aback by the grim concept. “Then, I guess we’ll have to appreciate it while we have the chance.”

Reaching to cup Tony’s face in his hands, Steve gently rubs a thumb over his cheekbone. Giving Tony a minute to melt into his touch before he leans in, pressing his mouth against slightly chapped lips.

Memorizing the sound of Tony’s appreciative moan as leaves skitter across the ground.

~*~

Tony stands by the window, enthralled by the winter storm and seemingly lost in thought as he sips absently at his hot cocoa.

Steve sets his respective mug onto the side table and moves to join Tony, encircling his shoulders with his arms.

“Are you all right?” Steve wonders against the shell of his ear.

“Always,” Tony responds as if on autopilot, but sinks back against him, letting Steve support his weight.

“Then, what’s on your mind?” Steve rephrases.

“Just wondering if Santa received my letter.”

Steve hums in response. Not exactly liking the dismissive tone, but knowing better than to press.

“What make you think you’re on the nice list this year?” Steve strives to lighten the mood, and smirks at Tony’s scoff.

“I’m always on the nice list,” Tony retorts. Then, corrects himself, “Except for that one time.”

Steve chuckles fondly, ducking down to kiss along the curve of Tony’s neck. Feeling the raised veins against his lips.

“What did you ask for?”

He catches the sharp intake of breath before Tony stiffens.

“Tony?” he starts, quelling the rising panic.

“More time…,” Tony answered at length, voice scarcely audible, “with you.”

Without elaboration, Tony turns in Steve’s embrace, and kisses him with a force Steve hasn’t experienced. Just shy of painful as Tony’s tongue dominates his mouth.

They make love passionately—desperately. The feel of Tony beneath him, his legs wrapped around Steve’s hips, delicious and heavenly.

“I love you,” Tony says breathlessly into Steve’s ear for the first time.

Steve can’t shake the feeling it might also be the last.

~*~

Grey.

The world is encompassed by it.

No more sunshine.

No color.

No warmth.

The offerings at Tony’s grave are the only indication of passing time. Flowers withering and dying to be replaced by a fresh batch. The pictures in the frames fading, steadily erasing Tony’s smile.

Steve never hated the seasons until Tony exited his life.

------------------------ For @stevetonygames 2023 Team Past (screen name: ResilientSystem||Theyumenoinu) Square "Seasons"

[avengersnewb]

No Matter how Warped I Feel

One of Tony's most shameful flaws was his endless wish for intimacy that drove him to constant, obsessive use of dating apps. He'd suggest for the first date, something like a cross-country road trip, having a different one of his exotic sports cars airlifted out to meet them at every state line, but then insist with a well-practiced poker face that, no, he wasn't that Tony Stark. Sometimes he'd actually wear a terrible disguise, but sometimes he wouldn't even bother with that. It was fine; even if they weren't really all that interested, he could count on his money to keep them playing along.

The minor problem however, was that all plans would fall through at the end. It had turned into a deja-vu, if he was being honest with himself, as they all finally dumped him. It didn't matter, all the laughs and tears, all Tony had put into each of these relationships. They would all leave him at the end like clockwork. And that was fine too. These were all consequences of his own actions. Sometimes he wondered if he should stop, to pretend that this was all a one-time thing, but somehow he couldn’t. There was this hole, this hungry thing deep inside his core that was hungry for love, for praise for a soft touch, and he couldn’t fill that void, no matter how much he tried.

That’s why he was so scared about falling for Steve so fast and so dramatically — it felt like speeding down the highway on his bike without a helmet. And he wasn’t even some guy — he was a friend. A co-worker. If it all failed… nope nope nope, he didn’t want to think about it. But Steve’s never-ending warmth helped fill all the* free space* inside his heart and chased away the shadows that plagued Tony’s nightmares. It didn’t matter how warped Tony’s thoughts got, remembering Steve’s smile was enough to make him feel better.

So he had bought a bouquet with about every flower that meant “I want you” in every language of flowers ever devised — even the flowers that were out of season. Hopefully, it’d be enough to get the message across

----

written for a total blackout of @stevetonygames 2023 bingo card, with sadisticsparkle and wynnesome :)

[frankthesnek]

Never Let Me Go (rated T)

Fluff, cuddles/snuggles, established relationship, PDA, team is family

Physical affection was nothing new to Tony Stark. He’d always readily kissed and held and demonstrated his feelings physically with his partners. Growing up largely not being shown affection, he could appreciate what value it truly held. Tony wondered if it was a similar circumstance that led Steve to being so cuddly himself.

Tony knew the larger man's history. No father, hard working mother gone constantly and taken too soon from Steve's life. Combine that with Steve being who he was physically before the serum—Tony wagered that there were not a lot of people lining up to get close to the little blond twink, a shame if you asked Tony. Those factors seemed to all culminate into a singular fact: Steve was big on physical affection.

When they had first made their relationship official, Tony had been surprised how readily Steve went public with it. Even more surprised by how open with PDA the soldier was. Perhaps it was the lesson of, ‘I'm not waiting and missing out’ that Steve had so grandly (tragically) learned prior to the ice. Whatever the logic or reason, Tony very quickly realized that Steve was in no way shy about their status as lovers.

Steve held his hand as often as he could, both out of uniform and in it. He rarely said goodbye to Tony without giving him a peck on the mouth or cheek, again never caring if they were in uniform. And as for cuddling, oh well now, that had become a near olympic level sport for Steve Rogers. Yet again, a fact that had taken Tony by surprise.

Maybe it was his own fault for assuming things based on stature, but Tony had thought Steve would gravitate towards the role of big spoon. He had assumed that Steve would be the one giving cuddles. As it turned out, Tony couldn't have been more wrong. Steve constantly sought out snuggles from him, burrowing into Tony's embrace and heat every chance he got.

Crawling in bed? Steve was scooting up close, offering his back and rump to be spooned; or curling impossibly small and tight against Tony's side and chest. Seating was limited? Didn't matter if it was the communal tower space or the back of the jet, Steve would all but sit in Tony's lap with how closely he tucked himself against the playboy's side. The worst—and by worst, Tony clearly meant best—was when they did any form of team relaxation. Movie nights, card games, sitting around shooting the shit; if there was a couch or loveseat involved, Steve was on him like a leach (granted a very cute and endearing leach).

=====

On screen, Ben Affleck walked animal crackers over Liv Tyler's breasts, poorly narrating a nature documentary.

“I could totally do that to you,” Tony murmured, ducking down a little to speak against Steve's ear. The larger man had claimed his place on top of Tony, head tucked under his boyfriend's chin with his arms curled against Tony's chest.

“Oh yeah?” Steve murmured back.

“Mmhhmm, got the wrack for it.”

Steve laughed and snaked his arms under the other man, holding him tightly and pulling up one of his legs, tucking his knee against the cradle of Tony's hip. “They are pretty great,” Steve admitted.

“Shhhhh! Get a room!” Clint scolded and threw a handful of potato chips at them.

Fixing a mild glare on the archer, Tony brushed the chips off Steve's back. “I own the building, so technically, I have rights to all the rooms.”

“Plus, they've already left enough fluids on that couch to formally mark it as theirs,” Natasha added from her place next to Clint.

“Oh that—that's not something I needed in my head,” Clint groaned dramatically, getting up and heading to the kitchen.

Tony chuckled and wrapped his arms over Steve's shoulders to pull the larger man in more tightly. “We could mark it some more later,” Tony mumbled against Steve's hair.

“Gladly,” Steve responded, levering up slightly onto his elbows and pressing a kiss to Tony's lips.

“Team building is great, but there is such a thing as over sharing,” Bruce piped up from his seat.

“Nah, builds team bonds,” Tony responded.

Patting Steve's shoulder, Tony twisted, starting to roll onto his side. Steve followed his lead, shifting off of him and onto the couch, scooting in close and interlocking their legs. Tony smiled down at his lover when Steve hummed loud and content as he nuzzled against Tony's chest just above the arc.

“Wanna roll over so you can see the movie?” Tony asked, kissing Steve's head.

“Nah, this is good.” Steve tipped his chin and returned the kiss to Tony's throat.

“Yeah… yeah, it is.”

Tony hugged Steve tightly and let his eyes close, not caring about the movie or their friends. He felt Steve press a kiss to the edge of the arc and sighed in deep relaxation, knowing full well in minutes he would be falling asleep here with Steve wrapped around him.

i just want to read about stevetony cuddles 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[capim-tinybang]

Cap IM Tiny Reverse Bang 2024 Round 1: Nomad | Winghead

The Cap-IM Tiny Reverse Bang Round 1 will run from July 19th - July 26th.

Creators can make drabbles, ficlets, fic, podfics or fanvids inspired by the current week’s posted fanwork prompt round. So come make some amazing works for the Stevetony fanworks in this round of the TRB!

You can create as many fills as you like.

NOMAD:

Artist: fohatic Artist Profile: https://www.tumblr.com/moon-language-0 Rating: General Warnings: None Link to art: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56823556

WINGHEAD:

Artist: Lai Artist Profile: https://laidraws.tumblr.com/ Rating: General Warnings: None Link to art: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56840329

Feel inspired? Write fic of at least 100 words for any or both fanworks until the very end of Friday (any timezone) and earn a badge for every prompt you write for! Creators can also create podfics or fanvids as fills - there are no minimum requirements for these formats.

Post your work to our Collection For Creators Making Fills.

Please read through our Tiny Reverse Bang Guidelines page for more information and submission guidelines.

Late fills are welcome! Post during our Amnesty Week and you will still earn a badge and be included in the final event masterlist. Take a look at the Captain America/Iron Man Tiny Reverse Bang 2024 Schedule to check the art posting and amnesty week schedule.

[sunnysideprincess]

Steve Rogers is a lonely boy, sitting by the window sill waiting for a miracle to cross by. Day after day, his friends visit him: Bucky with his upbeat stories about every dame he'd conquered in his block, while Sam fumed right next to him, his jealousy so pointed it could puncture a hole in the drip bottle. Natasha and Clint, always bickering, yet always joined to the hip, have the wildest work place stories. There's Sharon too, her eyes always misty, her hands clutching his too hard and lips spilling lies about how mundane her life has become without him. There's Wanda and Pietro, the two kids in his neighborhood. He had taught them art for some pennies on the insistence of their father, a sour faced kind hearted man and step father, a bright cheerful shrewd man. The nurses always have a smile for him. The doctor is a kind man with always a good word and it's on the day he tells Steve ", there's a possibility of treatment," that it happens. At first, he thinks it's a bug, and gets ready to squash it with his sketchbook. And he would have too—if the bug didn't end up screeching ", stop, stop, stop!". Steve quickly pulls away his most priced possession and squints. The fluttering insect is cowering near his flowers—Natasha's daily indulgence of daffodils and roses. Except it isn't a bug at all. It's a tiny human. "Uh," he exclaims rather elegantly, before dropping his sketchbook to rub his eyes clear of gunk. But the tiny human is still there, clutching a flower petal to his chest. "Aw, hell," Steve cries, smacking his own head with his fists. "Have I done it now? Finally lost my mind to these bore walls?" The tiny human squeaks and, oh look, he has wings too. They flutter feebly when Steve leans closer for inspection. "You know," he breathes over the bug sized man. "For something that came outta my head, you're kinda pretty." The tiny human grows red and clears his throat. Steve grapples with his sketchbook and brandishes it towards the hallucination. "Really don't mean I won't squash you!" "Don't!" The tiny human shouts. "Don't you smack me with that book!" He puts the weapon on the bed and narrows his eyes. Looking the tiny, fluttering human up and down. He doesn't move or say anything until, Steve raises an eyebrow and motions for him to talk. "My name's Tony," his figment says. "And I'm real." "Prove it." "Why would you dream up a pretty," added Tony rather smugly. "-human being who can fit at the palm of your hand?" "I dunno? Company?" "Pal," Tony says, suddenly floating off the side table. The wings flutter too fast to see, like a hummingbird's. And the tiny orb hanging from his neck glows brighter.  "I've been passing by to snack on your petals everyday for a week now. You don't lack company. In fact, you kind of look sick of it!" Steve opened his mouth, then shut it. It's true. He is sick of his friends and their pity and the sadness in their eyes he pretends to not see. He is sick of feeling like a dead man, everyday. He is sick of the only silver lining being an experimental drug that could control the spread of infection in his lungs. He is sick of being sick. Of these bore walls.

May be that's why he dreamt up a this little man, to have something new and beautiful to look forward to.

[flowersfortony]

heard about it before and kinda knew what would happen, but recently read (online) the 1872 no.1 and some of the other issues, and honestly got me hot for rdr2 again and just that time period in general. and now i want to write a small ficlet of a stevetony in that era but with my own twist? thinking about it thinking about it …

[aurumacadicus]

I've been enjoying your stevetony ficlets. thank you for writing and sharing! I most especially love your ridiculous drunk steve and pregnant tony ones. And Jim being the best bro out there in your latest ficlet.

Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying them! Drunk Steve holds a special space in my heart (the one full of shenanigans), and pregnant Tony is always a fan favorite 😂 And once again Jim is the best bro an emotionally stunted disaster can have lmao