It felt like Steve just kept losing - that maybe his whole life was defined by loss. His parents, Bucky, Peggy, everyone he knew, his life. He’d tried building it back again, and somehow managed to lose a lot of it, when he’d disagreed about the Sakovia accords and ended up on the run. Then the absolute worst had happened. Thanos had come and taken out half the life on the planet. Almost everyone he’d known was gone. Bucky - again. Sam. T’Challa and his little sister Shuri. Wanda. Vision. Nick Fury. Maria Hill. Scott Lang. Clint’s whole family.
Then there were the ones they couldn’t confirm. He had no idea where Sharon had gotten to and he could only assume the worst. Clint had gone awol. That kid that had worked with Tony was gone and so was Tony. The last he’d heard they’d both climbed on one of Thanos’ ships but even if they had survived the snap, Steve had no idea how they were going to get back.
It only left a handful of people and of that handful. Thor, Bruce, Rhodey, Natasha, and they had a new friend, a talking Racoon called Rocket. And that was it.
But Fury had left a pager. A device Steve had never seen before but he was assured was old school tech, doing something unheard of before. It was sending a signal to space. That was when hope returned in the form of Carol Danvers, an old friend of Fury’s with unfathomable power.
She’d gone off to see if Tony or the kid had survived and to see if she couldn’t bring them back. The others waited with baited breath, not sure it would amount to anything. And then, when he’d just about lost hope, Carol came floating down from space carrying a ship with her.
Steve was out the door and running to it as soon as it touched down. The back opened and there he was. Tony Stark. He was emaciated and frail looking and a blue woman was helping him walk. Steve’s heart skipped a beat and he rushed to him, putting his arm around his waist. “Tony…” he said, gently. “I got you.”
So, I know a lot of people are interested in "Not Knowing How Blind" (my MCU CA:TWS era fic where Steve is in an abusive kinky relationship with Brock Rumlow before he ends up with Tony), and I want everyone to know I AM still working on it. Seriously! To prove it, here's a bit of a teaser for the next chapter.
/ / / /
He saw Steve around the Triskelion every so often. He'd seen him last night, at the little party the team had had for the birthday Natasha had on her SHIELD paperwork, if you could even call it a party, but the last time he’d seen him before then had been at the Trisk—they’d ended up in the cafeteria together. Tony had just been planning to pick up a coffee, but Steve had managed to somehow talk him into getting something to eat, too, while he himself demolished enough lunch for five people. Steve had looked at him exactly the way you might expect a guy who had starved his way through the Great Depression to look at you if you told him you were skipping lunch, and the way his pale eyes had just bled genuine concern for Tony had been too much for him to stand up against, like Tony was going to faint at his workbench later if Steve didn’t see him eat a whole pasta salad right that minute.
Anyway, it had been … nice. The idea that Steve would even care if Tony passed out later was nice by itself—honestly, usually he had to pay people for that kind of attention. And Steve had been different, with both of them eating, not as much the serious, uptight guy he was in the field—still pretty serious, but also kind of funny in a understated way, interested in what Tony was doing and Tony in general, looking at him while he talked with a kind of sincere attention that was a bit dizzying at times. Tony had wished they hung out like that more often, but usually it didn’t end up that easy, it got all—weird and prickly between them. Steve had smiled at him like he was happy to see him every time he’d seen him around at the Trisk, though, and that had been … well, it had been nice, was all.
“What the fuck is he doing?” Fury said, tapping his fingers on the briefing table. The scowl on his face was impressive. “I didn’t send the alert out for my health. This is a developing situation. Does Cap think this is some kind of joke?”
“Come on, he said he was on his way,” Tony said. “This is the first time he’s ever been late, right? Like probably in his life. Cut the guy a little slack. Maybe the traffic’s bad, don’t have to get your panties in a twist.” Fury turned that scowl on him, which, as far as Tony was concerned, was a result. He grinned back. “Actually, do you wear panties? Probably not, right?”
Clint snorted a laugh from behind him.
“You seem like a matchy-matchy type of guy,” Tony went on, warming to his theme even as Fury’s one-eyed glare became all the more ominous. Tony was probably lucky he didn’t have a laser eye or explosives hidden behind that eye patch or something. He would have used it on Tony before now if he did, that was for sure. “All that black leather. Underwear probably black leather too, right? Match the coat. The eye patch. That seems like it would chafe. Does that chafe?”
“Stark,” Fury said, warningly. His tone was approaching a growl. Good, that probably meant his mind was off Cap and his lateness, at least. “You’re pushing it.”
“Seriously?” Tony said. “I do that every day. It’s practically why I’m here.”
You'll be the saddest part of me
A part of me that will never be mine
It's obvious
Tonight is gonna be the loneliest
You're still the oxygen I breathe
I see your face when I close my eyes
It's torturous
Tonight is gonna be the loneliest
THE LONELIEST - Måneskin
Stony 1872 kiss 48/50
-
Hello, I bring you some stony kisses <3
(Also, if you like my art, I would be very grateful if you could help me sharing my commission sheets, I have little to non reach at the moment and I'm struggling a bit, thank you <3)
I was going through my google docs, working up the urge to try my hand at writing something. Of course, before I do that I have to check discord, check tumblr, check e-mail, finally make my way to google docs and then OBVIOUSLY I have to organize all the files and rename all the untitled ones. Which is my longwinded way of saying I'm avoiding writing, but I did stumble across this snippet that I wrote a couple of years ago when I must have been in-some-sort-of-way.
It's not edited, I haven't gone back and revised anything. It is what it is. I give to you a married Steve/Tony, identity porn, civil war fight scene. This is right after it is revealed that the Winter Soldier killed Tony's parents.
Angst. Betrayal. Just a fun snippet I found :)
The sudden silence that filled the air was thick and suffocating. It filled every corner of the room, heavy with a sharp, almost electric, undercurrent to it. It felt very much like being submerged under water, the pressure and weight of it pressing against his chest. Rattling his insides. Making it hard to breathe. Hard to think.
There was the soft hum and whir of Ironmans suit, a familiar noise, cutting through the stillness. The gritty shift of Ironman’s boots against dirt crusted cement as he pivoted slowly to face Steve.
Steve wasn’t sure what it was that clued him in to it first. Maybe it was the way his fellow avenger turned to face him, the square set to his hips, the tightness he swore he could read in the suit's shoulders. The gauntlet's fingers flexed, spread wide and ready. Ironman looked tensed, coiled, and if Steve wasn’t very much mistaken, ready to spring at a moment's notice.
His voice, when it rattled out of the suits modulators, held an uncurrent of something that Steve couldn’t quite put a name to. Something…dark. Bitter, almost.
“Did you know?”
The question hung heavy in the air between them, making Steve’s brow crease even after a fresh wave of guilt swamped him. Guilt and shame and regret because by god, he had meant to tell Tony.
He had meant to tell him a hundred times now.
He had been waiting for the right moment, perhaps when things calmed down with Bucky, when he wasn’t racing from one continent to another, when he wasn’t spread so thin and under the gun and always facing something that just felt like impossible odds.
He had wanted to tell Tony, but he hadn’t.
And if he were being really honest with himself, it was for selfish reasons.
Sure the time had never been quite right - but when was there a right time to tell the man you loved that your best friend had murdered his parents?
He hadn’t told Tony because he didn’t want to see the hurt that would cloud those pretty brown eyes. Didn’t want to watch his lover, his friend, relive the pain of losing his parents and know that their lives hadn’t been snuffed out by a tragic accident. That it had not been a quick and relatively painless death. That his father had not been drunk that night behind the wheel. That they had been murdered. By Hydra. By the Winter Soldier. By Bucky.
It had been selfish. He knew that. He did. He hadn’t wanted to deal with the fall out. Hadn’t wanted to be the one to tell him. He hadn’t wanted to be trapped between his husband and his best friend. So he had put it off. Pushed it away. Later he had promised himself. He would tell Tony later. When things settled a bit. When this whole thing with the accords was over. When Bucky was safe. He would tell Tony. They’d talk about it. Come to a solution together. Maybe not right away… but they would. They always worked better together.
And now? Now the proverbial cat was out of the bag and everyone in this room was a witness to his failure. He had failed Tony. Betrayed him with his silence. That Tony might hear about this through the comms if he was monitoring them? Or through Ironman if Steve didn’t get to him first? That was perhaps the most bitter pill to swallow.
“Did. You. Know.”
Now there was no missing the challenge in Ironman's voice, modulator or not. The way the futuristic hero’s body was bladed toward him.
Steve was angry. Angry with himself. Angry with his failure. Angry about being caught in this situation in the first God forsaken place.
“That,” Steve said through gritted teeth and a heart thundering loud in his ears. “Is a conversation for me and Tony. Not you.”
“Tony?” Ironman drawled, the fingers of his gauntlets flexed, the suit whirred as if it were charging up for something. “You want to talk to Tony?” And there it was, a sort of snide, garish, ugliness to the robotic tone. A darkness threaded through the words. Betrayal, Steve realized, with no small amount of confusion.
“Alright.” And then Ironman’s hand came up. Reflexively Steve raised his shield, ready to deflect a blow, because there was surely violence in every line of Ironman’s suit. A threat.
But that gauntleted hand didn’t come up to blast him. The repulsors didn’t whir to life. Instead, it tapped against the chest plate. Fingers depressing a grove that only Ironman could see or feel.
And then the helmet that had kept his friend and fellow avenger’s identity a secret for all of these long years was falling away, pulling back from Ironman’s face, revealing Steve’s worst nightmare. Like a horse kick to the solar plexus.
“You want to talk to Tony? Then let’s fucking talk, Steve. Did. You. Know.”
Tony’s face, flushed and streaked with sweat, stared back at him. That alone would have been enough to arrest him, to freeze him in place, but there was the look burning hot and bright in his husband's eyes that really rooted his feet to the ground. That stopped the beat of his heart in his chest and filled the back of his tongue with the sour taste of dread.
Tony’s eyes were lit with betrayal. Anger. The unbridled rage that smoldered like a banked fire turned those normally warm brown eyes to fiery black coals. He was asking a question that he already knew the answer to.
And it was there, in that charged and suffocating silence between them, that Steve was witnessing the destruction of the best thing that had ever happened to him.
