Something I really appreciate about Tony that I don’t think gets talked about much is how much he gets beat up in the armor. 

Like he breaks so many bones that he a) had to invent something that would hide it from other people b) has to do this often enough that it’s a standard part of his emergency kit. (Amazing Spider Man v2 #529)

And then there was that time he got turned into an AI back in the day and he was super excited about not getting horrible concussions all the time anymore. (Hypervelocity #3)

Constant physical trauma and healing is exhausting on its own, and that’s not even getting into all the other miscellaneous severe beatings/torture/literally cutting off part of his own foot so he can keep fighting/having extremis or his internal armor screwed up/etc OR all the debilitating health problems he’s had over the years. Honestly there isn’t a whole lot of point to this post other than that Tony Stark is a tough bastard, and while we all talk a lot about how he deals with mental trauma I feel like there’s not enough appreciation for the physical side of it. Tony takes beating after beating and he just. keeps. going. 

*whispers* I heard people like non-binary Tony. Have some fifteen-year-old non-binary Tony Stark trying to figure things out with bonus Supportive Rhodey.


Jim walked into his dorm and raised an eyebrow as Tony yelped and threw himself across the room, face-first into his pillow. But he’d seen stranger things. He went over to his desk and deposited his bag, then turned back to him. “Hey, how do you feel about—Uh.” He frowned, because Tony hadn’t turned to face him, then reached out to touch his shoulder. “Are you okay, Tones?”

“Mphh fmm mmm.”

“When have I ever laughed at you?” Jim asked, offended, and then paused to think about it. “…When it mattered, anyway.”

Tony kept his face buried in his pillow for a long moment before he slowly sat up, keeping his head dipped low. “You have to promise.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Okay, yeah, whatever. I promise.”

Tony curled his hands into fists before he lifted his head, chin jutting out defiantly.

Jim stared at him for a long moment before saying, “Okay, I literally can’t see what it is I’m even supposed to be laughing at.”

“Wh-?!” Tony waved at his face. “This.

Jim sighed and crossed his arms. “I’ve never laughed at your face. Even that time when you walked around after falling asleep on a newspaper.”

“I’m wearing makeup, you idiot!” Tony finally burst out, then blushed, mortified.

Jim squinted at him skeptically. “…I guess I can see it. Oh! Okay, yeah, yeah, mascara. It’s just that your lashes are so full and dark already I didn’t notice.”

“…You think I have full, dark lashes?” Tony asked after a minute.

Jim scowled at him. “Of course you do, you dummy. Most guys do. Do you know how often I have to listen to my sister bitch about how my eyelashes are prettier than hers?”

“Whaaat do you think she’d teach me how to use lip liner?”

Jim stared at Tony for a long moment, and just as the younger boy began to shrink awkwardly, he said, “What the fuck is lip liner.”


“I hope you appreciate the things I do for you,” Jim said, applying eyeliner and cursing quietly when the line came out shaky.

“It’s fine, you’re fine,” Jeanette cut in, picking through her eye shadows and frowning. “It takes practice. Ugh. Tony. Why are you like this.”

Tony turned toward her from putting on concealer, frowning, looking so, so scared and trying not to. “What do you mean?”

White,” she complained, and Jim felt his shoulders relax unconsciously. “None of my shades will work on you. Oh! Maybe this blue-? Oh no wait—ugh. Disgusting. I hate you.”

“What about this blue?” Tony asked hopefully, pointing at a paler shade.

Jeanette pursed her lips, nose wrinkling a little with how hard she was thinking, before she finally agreed, “Yeah, alright. Oh honey, no. You put on eyeliner and eye shadow before mascara. It’s easier to do liner with nude lashes and if you have eye shadow particles on your lashes they’ll get covered by the mascara and also give you more oomph.”

“Oh,” Tony said, looking genuinely surprised.

Jim sighed, scowling at his eyeliner again. Tony’s eyeliner was straight.


“Poetry sucks do you wanna go get—Oh,” Jim breathed, just barely remembering to close the door behind him. “Oh, well… This is new.”

Tony looked miserable, which was a shame, because the yellow sundress he was wearing looked quite becoming. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no, it’s just—I was surprised!” Jim hurried to say, reaching out to give his shoulders a comforting squeeze. “It’s—actually you’re hella cute what the fuck.”

“Really?” Tony asked hopefully.

“Yeah,” Jim answered immediately, taking a step back to take in the whole picture again. “Like a—like a daisy. Aw, Tony, you didn’t have to hide this from me.”

Tony blushed, fidgeting, and looked down at his feet. “…You got your sister to teach me how to put on makeup properly. I didn’t want to—impose anymore.”

“So you decided not to let me see you lookin’ cute in a sundress, yeah, that makes sense,” Jim drawled, then frowned, leaning down so that Tony had to look at him. “Hey, is this—do you feel like you should be a girl? What is that thing, um—”

“No,” Tony answered quickly, embarrassed. “But, um. It’s just. Sometimes I don’t feel like a boy. But sometimes I don’t feel like a girl. I’m—I’m not explaining this right,” he whispered, shoulders hunching with shame.

Jim patted at his shoulders. “No, hey, that makes perfect—okay it doesn’t make perfect sense to me. But you know, I probably—won’t ever understand completely. Because I don’t feel the same way. But that doesn’t make you any less of my friend,” he added firmly. “So if—if you want to wear a dress sometimes, that’s fine. I’ll support you.” Because his family sure wouldn’t, Jim thought grimly.

Tony smiled at him shyly, turning his gaze back on his feet. “Thanks, Rhodey.”


Tony asked him to come dress shopping with him. Jim wanted to be supportive.

“You can’t fucking wear that Tony it doesn’t go with your skin tone!”

He was the worst kind of supportive.

Just because it has a star on it doesn’t mean it belongs on the top of the Christmas tree. Bucky GET YOUR ARM DOWN FROM THERE!
—  Steve Rogers (probably in the future)

anonymous asked:

okay here's my longgg WIW thought: AU where teen Nat breaks free of her conditioning/handlers in the late 90s! and starts working on her own side, trying to stealthily eliminate the Red Room and any other organization that relies heavily on brainwashing, b/c she never wants anyone to go through what she did. After a few months, she realizes that someone is helping her behind the scenes--covering her tracks electronically, dropping her hints about where the next cell might be, etc. 1/10

She should be freaked out that someone discovered her, can FOLLOW her, and she is, she’s terrified, but–this person is helping her. this person could have turned her in at any time. so it’s either someone who genuinely wants to help or someone who’s playing a long con to get her. she decides not to let her guard down around this person but to cautiously take their help–double-checking with outside sources before she goes off to do anything on their say-so, though. After a year she 2/10

gets an email that just has the location of a post box. She memorizes it, and when she checks her email again the next day, the message is gone. When she finds the box, she sees that her ghost has left her some new intel along with… some kind of electronic weapon? And instructions. She’s suspicious but she makes someone she’s about to kill test it out and her eyes go wide with delight. She quickly grows to love her new weapon. Her ghost keeps giving her intel/suggestions, but now every 3/10

few months there’s an upgrade, too. After a couple times of this she leaves a message in the box for them, b/c it’s the only way she can think of to contact them, saying thank you. Somehow that turns into the two of them corresponding through letters, and she becomes very fond of her ghost. They’ll never tell her who they are or give any hints, but the two of them talk about everything and nothing, play long games of chess over months, gossip over marked-up fashion magazines and about new 4/10

movies coming out. She feels like she gets to know her ghost very well. Like she can trust them. They have inside jokes! She thinks about them often. She thinks of them as a friend. She still tries to be wary but she knows, though she doesn’t want to admit it, that she’s compromised. She just hopes that they don’t give her away, and wishes she wasn’t so weak that she liked them so much. // ENTER THE WINTER SOLDIER. On a mission in the early 2000s he breaks free of his conditioning and 5/10

runs off to start his own crusade against HYDRA. He and Nat run into each other a few times on jobs they’ve both decided to take. They circle each other warily and exchange some blows, but nothing serious. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right? Eventually she sends a message to her ghost and asks if they think the man is trustworthy. Her ghost comes back saying that the Winter Soldier has been reported missing and maybe this guy is him? Maybe they should bring him in on their project if 6/10

he hates brainwashing too. (Nat gets a warm feeling she quickly squashes when her ghost calls it ‘their’ project.) So she starts talking to the soldier when they run into each other and eventually he comes to find her one day and asks her what her deal is. She explains, asks if he wants to join them. He shrugs and that’s that, he’s now part of their op. Nat’s ghost starts calling him James because ‘he looks like Bucky Barnes, Nat, tell me you don’t see it!’ and slowly over time James gets 7/10

enmeshed into their friendship and letters and starts remembering more about his personality and some memories. So Nat’s ghost becomes THEIR ghost, and things are good. When a month goes by without hearing from their ghost, they don’t worry too much. But they’ve never gone more than two without hearing from them, so they DO worry after their ghost is silent that long. Nat thinks maybe she’s suddenly getting what more she could want to make her happy. What’s been missing. What she hasn’t 8/10

been admitting to herself about James and their ghost, and feelings. Futures. Families. Then she’s absently watching the news and they’re reporting on Tony Stark’s disappearance again–and she sits bolt upright. Tony Stark been missing for two months, Tony Stark is a mechanical genius, Tony Stark… and the pieces fall into place. She feels immense fury boiling inside of her at the thought that someone has their ghost held captive. No.He belongs with her and James. Heads will roll for this. 9/10

Cue a rescue mission to Afghanistan! (Sidenote: I imagine Tony was born ten years later in this au, but his parents still died in 1991. Obie took over the company until Tony would be old enough to take it on, leaving him a bored teenager in the late 90s trawling around on the internet while getting his second phd when he found Natasha. Tony of course has been in love with both of them and known it practically from meeting each but didn’t think they’d want him or it could work out.) 10/10


Originally posted by sayrix

I’m fine, I’m fine, just sitting here, crying and petting this beautiful headcanon. I don’t even know what to say. There is nothing to say. THIS IS PERFECTION! THANK YOU YOU BRILLIANT WONDERFUL ANON MAY YOUR MIND CONTINUE TO GIFT YOU WITH THESE BREATHTAKING IDEAS!!!

(I’m sorry I’m sorry, I just can’t resist: Nat and James are in the middle of fighting these pathetic terrorists who dared taking their ghost–and they’d enjoy the fight a lot more if it wasn’t for that cold, dreadful worry, that desperate need to find their ghost and make sure he’s okay–when a fucking metal suit starts blasting these bastards apart with the sort of blind fury they can appreciate but know to be wary off. Which is a good thing, because once the last of the Ten Ring guys is dead, James is almost too slow to avoid one of the blasts, and then suddenly the metal suit is on his knees, crying and apologising and it’s all very messy but they’ve got their ghost back and really that’s the only thing that matters, isn’t it?)

*Tease* (Chapter Two)(1000 Follower Fic!)

Welcome back! Thanks so much for all the love on Chapter One, this is so much fun to write!
This Chapter is more of Nat/Tony because them as besties is the CUTEST!!!
I tagged everyone who liked/commented yesterday, sorry if I missed anyone! If you want to be added to the list just let me know!

MASTERLIST

Enjoy :)

******************************

“This.” Natasha handed Tony something in a dark red, and something else in pale blue. “Wear this.” She took another sip of her champagne, which was really half the reason she even shopped at this store. A glass of champagne as you browse the lace and silk and satin lingerie in the intimate little shop.

“Um, Nat.” Tony held up the two hangars, raising his eyebrows. “I will admit to being new to this whole, lingerie thing? But baby girl there’s literally nothing here.”

“Nonsense.” Natasha pushed her hair off her shoulder and grinned a little wickedly. “This is the top.” she slid her fingers through the lace. “And this is the bottom.”

“No.” Tony shook his head. “This is a string.”

“It’s a thong, Tony.”

“It’s a string, Natasha!” Tony retorted and she giggled–legitimately giggled at him.

“Tony. Just– okay, you obviously can’t try on the bottom, but please just try on the top. I think the red will be so pretty on you and Bucky wears red all the damn time. And that pale blue will make Steve’s perfectly shaped head explode.” She giggled again, tipping her glass up to empty it and taking the mostly full glass from Tony’s hand. “I’ll take this. You go try things on.”

“Okay. So red for Bucky, blue for Steve. So what do I wear if I want them both drooling over me at the same time?”

“Ah.” Tasha rifled through the lingerie rack in front of them. “This.” She held up something black and skimpy with a triumphant smile.

“I don’t even know what that is.” Tony said, his eyes a little wide and Natasha sighed.

“So you know when I wear those little dresses you boys all like so much?”

“Oh my god, like the leopard one you wore at my birthday?” Tony groaned a little. “Nat that killed me. Killed me. I’m dating two super soldiers, and I would still just–” he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Anyway. Leopard dress.”

“It’s alright, Tony.” She winked. “I wear those dresses for a reason. And I wear stockings under all those dresses, remember?”

“No.” Tony shook his head. “No, honey, my eyes stop moving when they land on that ass of yours.” He took the champagne from her and drank it quickly. “Explain this little…this little thing. Keep going.”

“Alright, well I always wear stockings. And this—” she held up the little black item. “is holding my stockings up.”

Keep reading

Laws Of Bygones

My ten minutes break from real life and STH fics, so you get another quick fic. For @lavengadoraaa who is as mad about Mafia AUs as I am about h/c. This one has reincarnation + mobs + soulmate AU because that’s the trifecta.
—————


The tragedy about mobs was that their stories always began with somebody’s funeral or wedding. Happy would say that they were the same, but Happy was working with his ex-wife who had asked his boss to kill him in grief; his opinion didn’t exactly sound unbiased. The tragedy remained, therefore, in Tony’s eyes that a mob’s story always began with a gathering that had bad music and worse food.

If Tony were to write the story, it would begin with a bad idea. And an explosion, though both went hand in hand when it came to him. Anyway, it would always begin with somebody saying they didn’t have a choice before doing something stupid.

“Rhodey shot Wilson,” Pepper announced as she walked into his office, her heels sinking into the scarlet carpet, “He says he had no choice.”

Like that.

“Any good news?” Tony leaned back on his high chair and looked up from his monthly report of the warehouses they were monitoring.

“Wilson survived,” Pepper said and sank into the dark chair opposite to Tony, toeing off her heels and shooting Tony a wry look.

The good stories began with bad decisions, Tony mentally corrected himself, but the great ones began with bad decisions that led to worse consequences. Like an officer surviving a bullet from a mobster.

“Any witnesses?”

“It’s Rhodey,” Pepper raised an eyebrow and Tony nodded in acceptance.

“Fair enough, no witnesses then,” he commented, stretching his arms and linking his hands behind his head, “What’s the problem then?”

“Rogers is the one on the case now,” Pepper said with a pinched look and a cutting glance, “And he’s pissed.”

“He’s been pissed since he got into that uniform,” Tony snorted, “Shouldn’t have made it two sizes smaller.”

“Tony”

“Pepper,” Tony returned her tone before sighing, “Why do you nag me about things you can handle with one hand tied? You’ve handled Rogers before. You can do it again.”

“No, you’ve handled him before,” Pepper corrected him with an amused grin, “I’ve handled your mess and clean-up. Which I hope I never have to do again”.

“It’s good to hope, Potts. The world runs on hope,” Tony grinned and tilted his head to observe her, “Really, Pepper. What’s the problem here? So Rogers is on the case. Do the usual. Pull Rhodey in, put either Viz or Happy out as bait, and throw in a bone of either Hammer or Vanko’s latest news for Rogers to catch. You know the drill. You created the drill.”

“It’s not that simple this time”

“Why not?“

“Hammer threw out a bone against us,” Pepper took a breath and held Tony’s gaze, “Tony, he leaked Spider-Man’s identity.”

Tony heard the whirring of a drill somewhere downstairs, the faint strains of Equinox from the jazz bar next door, and the soft chime of a customer entering the salon above them. He heard them all but only through the rush in his ears. 

 Mob stories were great and made good legends. But Tony would never write one at the cost of a kid’s life.

“Fix the set-up,” he said in the tone that only came out when he dealt with death and monsters above it, “It’s time to distract Officer Rogers through a meeting with a bigger bone.” 

 Pepper, like she always did, simply picked out her phone and prepared for the worst.

 -x-x- 

 Steve turned off the radio when he reached the defunct warehouse 12 on Carter Street. Radiohead’s Optimistic dwindled into silence as he looked out his window and considered the place.

To an untrained eye it would look like just another warehouse; abandoned, dormant, and quiet in its existence. Steve knew better though. He had seen a lot many good men walk into such warehouses and walk out on shoulders of their friends, in cold coffins. He had heard a lot many stories and lived a lot many tales of injuries and scars that came out of such warehouses. They weren’t always abandoned. 

They were a test of survival. 

“All units stay alert,” he whispered into his hidden comm and opened his car door to get out, “We can’t afford any mistakes." 

 His shoes crushed strewn pieces of glass and gravel as Steve walked to the door of the warehouse and eyed the red shutter button on its right end. He pressed on it but nothing happened. If Natasha’s intel were true, he was supposed to meet a whistleblower on the Iron Legion, the mob that had made the department look like headless chicken with every case they lost them in. Sam had come close to nabbing one of its members last week but had been shot in the shoulder for his efforts. Steve knew that it was unfair to be frustrated, but he wished Sam had seen the man’s face at the least. 

 The whistleblower he had come to meet today was an ex-employee of Stane Industries, the company that Iron Legion had destroyed to the ground a few months back. Natasha said that he had been personally hurt by the mob’s boss and had escaped by the skin of his teeth. It was understandable then why he had been hesitant to come out in the open. Steve just hoped that the man, Knight Natasha said his name was, could come through for them now. 

 Steve pressed the button once more and heard some noise from within the warehouse. He moved back and tensed up, one hand close to the gun on his hip. The shutter rattled in a minute before Steve saw it open up, the place dark inside.  

"Are you Steve Rogers?” a voice asked and Steve tried to find a form in the darkness. 

 "Yes, do you have some light?“ he asked, eyes still trained on the source of the voice. 

 "Uh, yeah, I think so, wait a minute,” the voice coughed and Steve heard a small swear before a sound of victory. There was a click of a lighter and Steve took a step forward as the fire of the lighter slowly brightened to reveal the face of a man. 

 "Hi" the man smiled awkwardly and looked around Steve’s shoulder, “Sorry, are you - you’re Steve Rogers, right?" 

 "Yes, and you are Mr. Knight?” Steve asked and the man nodded. His eyes seemed to be darting around Steve’s surroundings and Steve cleared his throat. 

“Do you want to go inside or…?" 

 "What? Oh! Sorry!” the man fumbled and moved inside, “Watch your step, there’s a bump I think, yeah sure, come in." 

 "There’s no light?” Steve asked, even as he moved inside, following Knight’s lighter. 

 "Oh, um, yeah, the fuse kinda went off,“ the man chuckled awkwardly, leading Steve inside, "You don’t always check warehouses before renting them, right? I mean, there’s no website or recommendations or anything for them. You just grab the first empty one you get." 

 "Right,” Steve said and looked around him, finding nothing really visible in clarity, “Do you think we could find something else to get some more light first?" 

 "Oh, uh, sure?” Knight turned around and looked at Steve, “Do you, um, have a flashlight or something?" 

 Steve nodded and reached into his pocket to grab the pocket flashlight, taking it out and switching it on. Knight brought up a hand and shielded his eyes when the light hit him directly. "Oh sorry, here, sorry,” Steve lowered his torch and Knight switched off his lighter, bringing his hand down to look up at Steve again. In the better and slightly brighter light, Steve caught a good look of the man and felt himself freeze. 

 The man had the most gorgeous pair of warm brown eyes and a jaw as sharp as a knife. He wore a pair of black rimmed glasses but they did nothing to hide the startling wonder of his eyes, large and expressive in every blink. Steve was never the kind of man to let his emotions loose during a job but there was something about the slight smile and twinkle in the eyes of this man that made his blood sing. Some pull in that face that hit Steve’s gut like a faded laugh. 

 "Hi, okay, now I see you,“ Knight smiled shyly, an awkward and soft tilt of his lips, and Steve had to squash a rising temptation to keep his eyes on those lips.

 "Yeah, I see you too,” Steve replied dumbly and pulled himself together when the man’s expression turned mildly confused, “So, Mr. Knight, I’m glad that I finally found you. Do you have something good for me?" 

 "I don’t know about good,” Knight huffed ruefully and shrugged, “But whatever I’ve got, I’ll give it to you.” Steve was sure that it wasn’t intended to sound flirtatious but he still had to will his interest down before nodding. 

“I’m all ears" 

 "Oh, um, I just start talking?” Knight blinked at Steve and Steve shrugged.  

“Sure" 

 "Okay,” the man cleared his throat before looking back at Steve seriously, “I met Iron Man, the boss of Iron Legion, when I was working with SI. He, uh, he had some problems with my boss and I guess decided one day that he was going to settle it once and for all." 

 "The reactor blast,” Steve chimed in and Knight nodded jerkily. 

 "Yeah, that,“ he took a stuttering breath, "Stane told his employees to leave him alone in the research basement and asked just a few of us engineers to help him work on one of our oldest projects, the Arc Reactor. One of us, Doctor Yinsen, said that we couldn’t weaponize the reactor’s energy since it went against the oldest policy set by Mr. Stark -" 

 "Anthony Stark? I thought he was dead in that jet crash over Afghanistan?,” Steve frowned and Knight laughed humourlessly. 

 "Oh he died alright,“ he shook his head ,"but not before sending an announcement through his PA, Ms. Virginia, that the arc reactor project’s weapons section would be shut down. Virginia spoke about it to Stane but…I guess they had some altercation. Anyway, Virginia was fired the same day and Stane never made the announcement public." 

 "But Yinsen knew about it,” Steve surmised, now engrossed in the story. 

 "Yes, he had been close to Stark and he knew about it,“ Knight sounded sadly fond when he spoke before his voice grew bitter, "He told Stane that he was going against the policy set by Stark but Stane was adamant. He fired Yinsen and then dragged him out of the basement when the man wouldn’t leave. We all…well, we never saw Yinsen again, so I assume Stane threw him out for good.”

 "How did Iron Man know about this?“ 

 "I’m not sure,” Knight shook his head, “We were working on the reactor and transferring its energy into a miniaturized core Stane had arranged when Stane got a call and he took it.” Knight took a deep breath and looked Steve in the eye. “Stane looked like he’d heard a ghost, Mr. Rogers,” he said in a hushed voice, “Nobody had ever seen Obadiah Stane lose control but that day he almost did. He said just two words before rushing out of there like a bat out of hell." 

 "What were the words?” Steve asked and Knight’s mouth twisted. 

 "Iron Man" he said and ran a hand over his face, “I didn’t see anything else till the ceiling broke and Stane fell into the reactor, burning to a crisp. But as we all ran from there, I stumbled on the miniaturized core and before I could do anything with it, I felt someone hold my shoulder." 

 "That day I looked into the eyes of Iron Man, Mr. Rogers,” Knight said in a haunted voice, “I see those eyes in my nightmares every night. Those lifeless, piercing blue eyes. They had no soul. No emotion in them. It was like staring into a dead man’s face. Cold. Robotic.”  

“And you can identify him?” Steve pressed on. 

 "In my sleep,“ Knight said confidently. "I remember him like I remember my own face." 

 "That’s good,” Steve declared and reached down into his pocket to bring out the declaration form he had brought with him, “I’m really glad that you finally decided to come out, Mr. Knight. This will help us more than you could know." 

 "Of course,” Knight smiled a bit before eyeing Steve curiously, “May I ask a question though?" 

 "Sure" 

 "Why do you want to catch Iron Man so much?" 

 "Sorry?" 

 "I mean,” Knight shrugged a bit, “apart from him being a mob boss and such, why do you want to catch him? What do you see wrong in him?" 

 "Everything,” Steve answered as he found the form and brought it out, “He’s a threat." 

 "To what?" 

 "Freedom,” Steve replied and shook the paper open, offering it to Knight, “Iron Man and his gang are a threat to the freedom of people. They’re selfish, uncaring about those who fight for the good, and unworthy of their power." 

 "Really?” Knight asked as he read through the form, “And who decides that?”

 "Decides what?“ 

 "The part about them being a threat to freedom,” Knight began pacing as he read the form with a small frown, “You said they’re a threat to the freedom of people, right? Which people? The ones who threaten the freedom and lives of others or those who are threatened every day? And why are they selfish or unworthy of their power?" 

 "Because they break the law at their whims,” Steve frowned, suspicious at the turn of the conversation. 

 "The law?“ Knight stilled and laughed lightly, "You think that the law is worthy, Officer Rogers? That wearing a blue uniform makes people right while wearing a suit makes someone wrong? The law shoots those who hold a gun, Officer. Is that still right if the one holding the gun was just someone trying to save his family from a seemingly weaponless man with power? The law questions based on things they see, but do they ask the real questions about what they saw? You speak about freedom, but you don’t tell me who’s freedom you protect." 

 "Mr. Knight…" 

 "Iron Man doesn’t ride in cars with sirens, Rogers,” Knight smirked sharply, eyes glinting, “and his team doesn’t wear medals of honour to parade. And yet, he managed to stop a war monger while the law seeks to protect men like Stane.”

 "Who are you?“ Steve asked and pulled out his gun, training it on the man in front of him.

 "The one you’ve been looking for,” the man grinned and in one swoop, came closer to whisper, “And the one you’ll never stop chasing." 

 Steve was about to pull the trigger when the man whistled and Steve realized quite late that he had been lured into the warehouse on purpose. An explosion from behind him, pushed Steve forward and made him lose his balance. The other man moved away but not before Steve’s outstretched hand caught hold of his hip and ripped the shirt when he fell. He tried clutching at the waist of the man but the flashlight had been knocked out and Steve was stumbling into the ground. He heard a gasp though and felt his own hands burn when the man slipped through his fingers. 

 "What…" 

 "Run!” a new voice yelled, before Steve could get up and run behind the source of the sound

“Run!" 

 "Not without you!” strong fingers clutched at the sides of his face and a warm but bloody mouth pressed against his lips ,“Not without you, beloved!" 

 "Please -" 

 "Live or die, we do it together, my heart,” another kiss was pressed into his mouth and he felt the heartbeat of his dearest in that second. 

 "Together,“ he whispered even as they heard the yells of the soldiers geowing louder behind them

Steve heard the sounds of barrels falling and snapped out of the strange flash of a weird haze. 

 "Odinson! We’ve got runners!” he yelled into his comm and scrambled to his feet, feeling shakier than a normal fall should warrant. 

 As he chased out of the warehouse, into an empty lot, Steve felt a mixture of remembered sorrow and regret meld with a present fury and betrayal. His palm tingled as he tried to block out the memory of a bloody kiss and the sight of warm brown eyes. 

 He had failed. Steve didn’t know why he felt like it wasn’t the first time.

anonymous asked:

Prompt: Tony and Steve find a kitten in the rain

“Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve found him.”

Tony sighed in relief, pausing mid-air as he signaled for JARVIS to trace Steve’s call. “Oh good. You’ve got the towels, right?”

“Check. Heater?”

“Check.”

Steve chuckled. “It’s probably bad that we have a contingency plan for this. I’ll see you in two.”

“One,” Tony corrected, before nosediving directly downward, heading for the park on the corner of the street beneath him.

The rain pattered insistently against the metal of his suit, but Tony didn’t really notice it. He’d faced Thor’s thunderstorms, after all; this was small fry, really. For others who didn’t own a mechanically-controlled thermal system, however, it was a different story.

He found Steve, waiting for him by the corner, hood up in the rain. “Nice evening for it,” Tony said dryly (ha), and Steve grinned wearily, kissing the faceplate in greeting. “I went last time. Your turn going first now.”

Tony glared at him, but the depth of it was lost due to the 2 inch metal faceplate. Eventually, he just nodded, flying forward around the corner until he came face to face with his intended target.


“How did you find me? Did you put a tracker in my suit or something?” Peter asked, shivering a little. His hair was plastered to his face from the rain and various other water he may or may not have been submerged in at some point in the night.

“I put everything in the suit. Including this heater,” Tony said, waving at JARVIS to tell him to activate the heating system that Peter had yet to work out for himself.

Peter shivered a little at the change in temperature, but then he smiled. “Whoah!”

Tony just sighed. “Kid- you gotta stop running off to fight crime all on your own. I gave you that suit to protect yourself, not go actively searching for danger. You scare the devil outta me and Steve every time you do this.”

Peter sighed, and looked down at his hands again. “I just want to help people, da- Tony,” he corrected, blushing an absolute crimson as he stumbled over the word.

Tony’s mouth fell open, and for the billionth time he thanked his lucky stars that no one could see behind that plate. Through the comm, Steve was chuckling, and Tony would have told him to go fuck himself with a blunt instrument if he hadn’t been aware that Peter was in the vicinity and would therefore hear the foul language-

Wait.

Fuck.

What? Tony was policing his own language? When the hell had that started?


Oh God. He was. He really was. Peter was right. He’d become a fucking dad. 


Whilst he continued his small existential panic in midair, Steve took the opportunity to step around the corner too; towels held aloft as he shook his head fondly in their direction. “Tony- breathe. Peter- towel down, and then get in the car. We’re taking you back to Aunt May, and you’re not going to complain once, understood?”

Peter hissed in annoyance, but hopped off the climbing frame sulkily all the same, accepting the towel from Steve and then wrapping it around his head. “Can we stop for a treat before I get there? Like ice-cream or something? I’m starving, and Aunt May will probably ground me for the rest of my life, so we can consider this a last supper sort of thing.”

Both Tony and Steve sighed in unison. “Fine. One ice-cream. Then Aunt May.”

Peter smiled, and pawed at them both with his soaking-wet gloved hands. “You’re the best!”

Steve looked smugly over at Tony, who just grimaced. “Damn frickin’ straight.”

3

Requested, thank you

“You think this will work?” Bruce asked doubtfully as he looked over to Tony. “Well if it doesn’t, things are gonna get pretty awkward” Tony shrugged as he continued to fiddle with the programming. “Don’t you think we should wait another day or two to work things over?” Bruce questioned, playing with the pen in his fingers. “Nah, we’re doing it today. Besides after it’s done I have to come back and mess with Jarvis again to get it back to normal” 

bornwithgasolineheart  asked:

Omg dude I love your regency!AU!!!! Can you imagine Bucky waking Tony up early in the morning, acting all weird and suspicious with a bag full of something as he guides the omega through unknown hallways and Tony is so confused. And then, they're outside the stables and Tony is even more confused but at the same time elated like, "are we going to feed the horses?" and he's so happy for that but bucky just smiles and says, "it's even better than that".

They go in and they’re met with horses neighing. Tony, of course, goes to pet every horse he can see and Bucky patiently waits for him before leading him to the most beautiful creature he has ever seen- a giant, chestnut horse, that’s Tony’s and only Tony’s, his to name and care for and train. And Tony can only stare as Bucky gives him the bag, that was actually full of horse treats like apple slices a d carrots.

The morning is spent on learning how to take care of a horse, like grooming and feeding, etc. Bucky teaches the omega how to ride other than sideways and this is how morning rides with Bucky start. Steve occasionally joins them, but this will remain their special time Sorry for the long rambling but your AU got me going and I just had to share this

Okay but in the morning when Bucky comes and wakes him, Tony gasps and pulls the blankets up over his head. “James! I’m not dressed!” And Bucky being like “You’re wearing more than I do when I spar??” But then he rolls his eyes and sighs and says “Just–get dressed and meet me outside.” He pauses, then adds, “Put on something that you don’t mind getting dirty.” And Tony does, wondering just what they’re going to do that he needs to worry about getting dirty (gardening?) but then he balks because Natasha’s not there. “This is inappropriate! Her Majesty will be upset!” (Tony has no idea Sarah has put these rules in place for Tony’s sake and not for Steve and Bucky. Tony’s a delicate flower.) “Then we just won’t tell her,” Bucky tells him slowly, and then grabs his hand and begins dragging him down the hallway.

And Tony is so nervous, so afraid of being caught, so he keeps his mouth shut and follows silently. He doesn’t recognize most of these hallways and for a moment he feels a thrill of real, bone-chilling fear–but Bucky wouldn’t hurt him. (He mostly believes this. But there’s a little niggling doubt.) He’s even more confused when he’s led outside but then–then he hears the shuffling of hooves, the sound of lips flapping–he’s only heard them a few times but he knows this is what horses sound like. Tony clings to Bucky’s hand, nearly vibrating with excitement. He gets to give the horses apples.

Except apparently he doesn’t? Bucky didn’t bring apples? But that’s okay because apparently too many apples is bad for them and Tony gets to pat each one’s face and coo at them as they walk through the stables. They all have names, some sillier than others, and he giggles over “Cigar” and “Dr. Fager” and “I’ll Have Another” and  “Mr. Prospector.” He even gets to meet Steve’s silver and gray horse, The Captain, and Bucky’s beautiful black, white-stockinged mare, Red Star.

“This one has no name yet,” Tony says sadly, admiring the beautiful chestnut. It probably just doesn’t have a name marker yet. It’s probably something strong, like Admiral or Man o’ War. “Well that’s because you haven’t named him,” Bucky tells him gently. “Oh.” Tony strokes his palm over the horse’s nose a few times before whipping back toward him. “Wait what?!” “He’s yours,” Bucky says, and then hands him the bag, and Tony fumbles but then he opens it and sees apples and manages a stuttered, “You said they’d get colic–” “Unless it’s moderated. A couple apples as a treat every once in a while won’t hurt them.” Tony’s eyes widen as Bucky whips out a knife, flips it in the air to hold the handle out to him. “It’s better if you cut the apples up, too, so they don’t choke.”

Bucky shows him how to groom the horse, assuring him that they have a farrier to look after its hooves, laughs a little when Tony takes the time to carefully braid its mane. He needs to give the horse one pail of grain in the morning for breakfast. The couriers take care of the second pail of oats in the evening when the horses are brought in from the pasture. You need to put the saddle blanket up higher or he’ll whip it back off. This is how you put on the saddle–

“This–this is the wrong kind of saddle, Bucky, wait, this is–Bucky it’s wrong wait!” Tony grabs his arm but Bucky just draws the belts tight anyway, gives the saddle a tug to make sure it’s on firmly. “No, this is the right kind. You’re gonna learn to ride a horse like this.” And Tony stares up at him, uncomprehending, before he leans in and whispers, “But won’t it make me unable to have children?” “Why the–” Bucky takes a breath. He has learned to hide his first reaction to the terrible things Tony has said. “No, honey. Omegas can ride horses like this and still have children.” “Are you sure?” “Sarah rides horses like this all the time and had Steve.”

Bucky saddles Red Star and helps Tony get on the horse outside the stables. He clutches the reins with white knuckles and keeps looking at Bucky for reassurance as he carefully walks the chestnut around. Then he gets a little confident, starts sweet talking his horse, calling him sweetheart and honey and buttercup. “How about we try a trot?” Bucky offers, and shows Tony how to urge his horse faster. They get up to a canter that Tony is delighted by before they have to head back in, and he shows Tony how to wipe his horse down and give him water. The couriers will put him out to pasture with the other horses.

To absolutely no one’s surprise, this giant, spirited chestnut ends up with the name ‘Sweetheart.’