It didn’t mean anything, per se… Steve’s sweaters were just cozy, okay? And his sweatpants were soft and his tshirts were baggy and they all smelt like something undeniably Steve-
Yeah. Anyway. Like Tony said. It was a thing.
To be honest, he hadn’t even expected anyone to notice, really- they were just a few clothes, after all. Nothing special. The team used his stuff all the time- what made this different? Nothing, that was what. It wasn’t like Tony… hoarded it, or anything. And he certainly didn’t steal Steve’s jumpers after bad nights in order to calm him down. That would just be stupid.
Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid.
In fact, if he hadn’t come down one time, half asleep and wearing literally none of his own clothes, everyone probably would have just let it slide. Tony honestly hadn’t done it intentionally- he was just tired and a little shaken from the lovely morning nightmare that had served as his wakeup call, and Steve’s clothes were soft and big and smelt really nice.
It was calming. It was… home.
So Tony had slid them on without a second thought and then trundled downstairs, pretty much still asleep. Mornings, especially early ones like this one, were most definitely not his forte.
Except… turns out that superspies were observant. Who’d have thought?
Anyway, they noticed it immediately. Natasha just raised an eyebrow, but Clint was an asshole, so Clint wolf-whistled and jostled Steve’s shoulder, making him turn from where he was busily preparing his breakfast in order to look in their direction. Tony, still pretty much sleepwalking at that point, just tried to zoom in on the coffee and direct his body toward it. He doesn’t notice everyone staring, or Steve’s progressively reddening cheeks.
“Nice look, Tony,” Natasha says quietly, eyes still on the morning paper.
“Fuck yourself,” he says cheerily, and barely even winces when the spoon flies an inch away from his nose in response. He’s grown used to it.
Clint makes a move, ruffling his hair and then cooing, despite Tony’s grumble of protest. He would normally just punch him, but did he mention how tired he was? Really fucking tired.
“Don’t you just want to fucking bundle him up when he’s like this? How do you resist, Steve?” Clint asks, and Tony glares at him and turns to Steve, ready to hear a witty quip in reply, but the other man is just spluttering a little incoherently, eyes still fixed on the pale blue button-down that’s pretty much slipping right off Tony’s shoulders.
His face falls a little, because shit, Steve’s noticed. And now they’re probably going to have a long and awkward conversation about boundaries, where Steve tells him he needs to stop wearing his clothes, which will suck, because Tony loves Steve’s clothes-
He’s so caught up in his own head that he forgets to watch where his feet are going, and they catch on the overhanging material that hangs over his toes whenever he wears Steve’s sweatpants, and then he’s off, falling face first, destination: corner of the fucking tabletop.
Great way to start the day.
He braces for impact, a little yelp escaping his lips as he jerks his hands up on instinct- but impact doesn’t come. Instead, there’s a sudden tight pressure on his waist, and he realizes it’s an arm that’s just managed to snag him before he brains himself. Which is nice. Definitely helpful.
Steve is stood there, a little awkwardly, arm simply outstretched and holding Tony’s entire body-weight like it’s nothing, which is probably not something he needs to be thinking about when wearing thin sweatpants-
“Where are your glasses, Tony?” Steve says, fond exasperation evident in his voice as he pulls Tony upright again and then softly places a hand against his jaw, checking to see that all braining incidents had been 100% avoided.
Tony scowls, and shrugs. “Left them out somewhere- but I don’t need them to see my own two feet, Steve, only reason I fell was because your pants are-”
He’s about to say stupidly big, before realizing that, being the insanely clever person he is, he just managed to expose himself and his clothe-stealing ways right in front of the man himself.
Amazing. He was on a god damn roll this morning. God- he wished he’d just knocked himself out on the tabletop.
But rather than frowning and pulling him up on it, Steve just blushes a little bit deeper, and Tony watches his eyes flicker down very briefly, before dragging themselves back up immediately and only making the blush go even darker,
and at this rate Steve is going to be a motherfucking tomato, or his cheeks are going to burst open from too much blood rushing around in them.
“They suit you,” Steve says quietly,and Tony has to question whether or not he’s even conscious at this point, because that was definitely a lip bite, and Steve’s eyes keep flickering down toward Tony’s exposed collarbone like there’s a god damn magnet attached to the thing-
“Wait,” Tony blurted suddenly, squinting a little and hoping that his eyesight really isn’t failing him enough to imagine that, “do you…no way-do you like that?”
Steve laughed, and this time it was a lick of the lips, which was honestly just unfair at this time of day. “Uhhh-”
“he means he likes you wearing his clothes, but he’d prefer them back on his bedroom floor,” Bruce piped up, which was surprising, because everyone had assumed he’d just been napping on the tabletop.
Steve frowned. “Can you maybe let me flirt on my own, guys?”
“Hey, you chose to do this in the communal room, your fault,” Clint said, before waving them away, “now shoo- go have your way with him or whatever, Steve- I don’t want to see any more of this here, I’m eating my cereal.”
Tony looked at Steve, still trying to actually conceive what was happening here. Steve just looked at him, waiting for a sign of confirmation, and when Tony gave a confused nod of his head, Steve wasted absolutely no time in sweeping him directly off his feet and into an effortless bridal carry, beginning to maneuver them both out of the communal room at a brisk pace.
Tony blinked, hands wrapping around Steve’s neck instinctively, feeling more than a little blissed out when all Steve’s warmth and softness and smell that he usually leeched off his clothes was suddenly pressed up directly against him.
“Bye,” was all Steve called out, before sliding out into the corridor and immediately pressing Tony against the wall, mouth meeting Tony’s possessively, greedily.
“You really like the clothes, huh,” Tony whispered in amazement, in between kisses.
He was kissing Steve he was kissing Steve he was kissing Steve he was kissing St-
Steve smiled, hands wandering underneath the button down and slipping around his waist. “Every time, every damn time you’d come down wearing something of mine, I wanted to do this. I thought you were doing it on purpose- you had to be. There couldn’t have been any other reason you hadn’t noticed how I reacted to it.”
Tony opened his mouth to reply, biting down on a groan between breaths, but Steve kissed him again, picking him up once more, this time by the ass, and then waiting for Tony to wrap his legs around Steve’s waist before moving them forward. “I might make you keep the shirt on, though. It looks good. Real good.My clothes always look good on you”
Tony grinned, “possessive streak, have we, Rogers?”
“You have no idea,”
“I feel like I’m about to find out, though.”
Steve smiled, smug and dirty as he kissed Tony’s neck, whispering “damn fuckin’ straight.”
Okay. So maybe the morning was looking up, after all.
I was at a goodwill outlet one time and this random guy came up to me holding a shoe and said, "Did you know they sell pets here?" and inside the heel was a dead hamster. I'm probably gonna remember that forever
I had to doodle something from the latest chapter of Serendipitous Fate by @skaylanphear cos it gave me so many goddamn feels and if you aren’t reading that fic then you are missing the hell out like you don’t even know ok
Summary: When you first meet Jeon Jungkook, business heir of Busan, you refuse to let things escalate to more than being friends. But you can’t help it when you fall for him, when you let yourself imagine a future with him by your side. Until the bliss comes crashing down when Jungkook reminds you that you, a worthless Daegu girl, can never be good enough for him, and the low that follows the high of loving him is worse than anything you could have imagined. Word Count: 14.2k Genre: angst A/N: thank you guys for waiting! <3 and I hope you enjoy it!
“Kid,” you snort, untying your work shoes and kicking them into the corner of your room to be dealt with later. No classes and no work tomorrow meant sleeping in, and you couldn’t be more relieved. “You’re only three years older than me.”
“Still older,” Hoseok grins. He’s lying on your bed, his head and half of his upper body hanging off the mattress, still dressed in his sweaty clothes from dance practice, but you’re too exhausted to call him out on it. You weren’t sure when he’d gotten here, but Hana was already asleep when you got home, and Hoseok had been napping, clearly forgetting all about a shower. “I keep telling you to call me oppa.”
Seriously this was such a beautiful chapter, im still not over it. Look at them, do you all se these genuine warm smiles?! Holy shit, them being weak for each other’s smile is my weakness *lol is that even english*