versimilitude

ohmygod AAAAAAA THE SOFT PROMPTS ARE SO SOFT I LOVE THEM ALL SO MUCH…. it’s so hard to choose……

stevetony + 17, please? 🥺🙏 (or 28 if someone else has chosen 17…. or 30…… if 28 and 17 have been chosen…..) 🥺🙏

i just love the prompts so much and they will be so so so perfect with your writing style!!! just thinking of all the beautiful and soft stevetony peach fics we’ll get makes me so so so happy you have no idea!!! 😭🫶

17 // fixing the other persons clothes absentmindedly or like tucking their hair behind their ear U KNOW WHAT I MEAN THAT SOFT STUFF

****

There's something about Steve in the morning that Tony finds even more insanely hard to resist than usual. Morning, sleep-rumpled Steve just looks... soft. It's the only way to describe it. Sure, he's still a 200-something pound super soldier with arguably perfect proportions and enough muscle to lift a car, but —

"Morning, Tony," Steve says now, voice still a little rough with sleep. He hasn't gone for his morning run yet, which always smooths out those rough edges, brings Steve back to that Captain Rogers he is for the rest of the world. But Tony much prefers this version of Steve. Soft, sleepy, un-self-conscious Steve blinking into his coffee, not awake enough for much more than a nod and a smile, a mumbled 'g'morning.'

Tony hasn't been to bed yet, should probably head there now, really, but he can never quite make himself leave a room with Steve Rogers in it if he doesn't have to. It's another one of his vices, sure, but this one isn't really hurting anyone.

"Morning, Steven," Tony says with a smile. He's in that in-between phase where he's just finished a project after a long night and the exhaustion hasn't hit him yet. Soon enough he'll be dead on his feet, more than ready to hit the hay. Now, though, he's wired, running on ideas and adrenaline and that look Steve's giving him.

That's probably why he does it.

One minute Tony's standing next to Steve at the counter, waiting impatiently for the coffee to finish brewing, enjoying the way the early morning sun paints the kitchen in soft light. The next, Steve's looking at him, eyebrows knitting together.

"Have you slept yet, Tony?" He asks. "You look exhausted."

A lock of soft blond hair falls over his forehead as he says it, taking any witty retort right out of Tony's mouth. He's not even thinking when he reaches over and pushes the hair aside, tucking it into place like he does it all the time.

They both freeze, Steve's eyes locked on Tony's as time seems to slow down then stop completely.

Then Steve smiles, lopsided and tired and perfect.

"Thanks, Tony," Steve says quietly just as Tony clears his throat and offers a quick, "Sorry."

"S'alright," Steve tells him.

"Early," Tony replies, monosyllabic for the first time in his life.

Steve's smile widens. "Very," he agrees. "Maybe after we drink this and wake up a little, you'll let me take you to breakfast?"

Tony grins. Sleep can wait a little longer.