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itsany62 · 15 days
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Steve quietly helping a “finally at the end of his wick&burnt out” Tony out of his suit and into bed
The button was sticking to his fingers. It had to be. There was no other reason as to why the hell this was taking so long.
Tony looked down in confusion, observing his index and thumb as they battled to wrangle the slick white button out of its buttonhole. It wasn't going very well from the looks of it, which was strange, because he could've sworn he started to work at them almost as soon as he'd stepped through the door. That meant he'd been at it for at least 20 seconds now. This was not something that Tony could say he usually struggled with.
He watched his own fingers as they fiddled desperately at the contraption for a few more moments before, finally giving up and falling dejectedly onto the countertop. He could give that another go later, he figured. For now...
Well. Fuck. What the hell was he supposed to do now?
Blinking slowly, Tony attempted to orientate himself. He knew he was in the kitchen at the tower. He knew it was... well, Tony didn't quite know what time it was because the meeting with the Secretary of Defence had run over, but it was dark now. 11, maybe? He knew that there was probably something else he needed to get done before he could call it a night. His to-do list had only been growing since he started it at the beginning of the week, and they weren't the kinds of things you could put off until the next day. They were the kinds of things that, if left too long, could get people killed.
Right. Okay. He needed a refuel. A bagel, maybe. And a coffee. And then he would... yeah. The kit for Natasha. Top priority. She was heading out to Alaska tomorrow and her old suit had been torn to shreds in the debacle last Tuesday. So bagel, coffee, workshop. Bagel, coffee, workshop. Bagel-
"Could I suggest, sir, that you substitute your coffee and workshop plans for bed instead? It has been two days since you last achieved REM sleep."
Tony was quiet for a moment. He stared at the wall, and then glanced up to the ceiling slowly, a frown folding into his forehead.
"Did you just read my mind?" He asked JARVIS.
"No sir. I listened."
"Oh. I was speaking?"
"Indeed sir."
"Ah."
See, this was the slight problem that came with spending a week hopping straight from one obligation into another. He started to lose track of himself a little. The overuse of caffeine probably didn't help either. But it was that or fall behind, and he quite simply didn't have time to fall behind. At this point, he'd never catch back up again. He had to do more. Keep going.
So he chose to ignore JARVIS's advice, and instead reached a hand into the pack of bagels on the side. His mind whirred disjointedly as it tried to work through the current set of problems plaguing Stark Industries. The biggest issue was tied into the aforementioned meeting he'd just had with the Defence Secretary. As a general rule, Tony Stark and military personnel did not get on too well. They'd never gotten out of the sulk they fell into with him after his whole 'no more weapons' epiphany, which was just fine by Tony. They talked a lot of shit about him behind closed doors and, occasionally, in public meetings, but they were normally content to leave it at that.
Except now they'd gone ahead and appointed this new guy into one of the top brass roles, and his sole mission seemed to be wrangling Stark Industries back into the weapons business. By any means necessary.
Tony would come out victorious in this stupid little power play, obviously. This wasn't the first time a government official had used thinly-veiled threats and blackmail against him. It was, however, the first time the pressure had come right from the top of the chain. And it implied there was a wider cultural change in the ranks of the US Military, which meant Tony, The Avengers and Stark Industries were all going to have to tread more delicately if they wanted to weather the storm.
He sighed, gaze losing its focus for a few moments. In front of him, the toaster ticked away. The smell began to permeate the air. Tony realised he wasn't even sure he was hungry. He had been, a few hours ago, but the sensation had since faded when it realised it wasn't being listened to. Now he just felt hollow. Like someone had scooped out his brains with a melon baller. He realised he was swaying back and forth on his feet - a slow, repeated motion that was starting to make him feel dizzy. He told himself to be still.
The bagel popped out of the toaster, and it was only then that Tony remembered there were extra steps to this process. Butter. And a knife. He needed both. Hopefully his hands would be able to handle this one.
Turning on his heel, he headed over to the fridge, because he was 90% sure that was where they kept the butter these days - but as his hips swivelled to the left, he felt himself bump against something that had not previously been in the kitchen. It was firm, but soft. Warm. It smelled familiar.
Tony was staring in mild surprise at the chest in front of him, and it took a moment before he realised that that wasn't where you were supposed to look when you bumped into people. And Steve was a stickler when it came to being polite, so he promptly lifted his gaze.
"Hi," he told Steve. This, he thought, was an appropriate thing to say - not too much, not nothing at all, just right. "I'm making a bagel."
Steve, however, didn't seem to care much about the bagel. He didn't even look at it when Tony gestured over to it, which was unusual, because Steve was a very food-oriented man. Instead, Steve was staring down at Tony, a strange kind of intensity in his eyes. They'd been arguing earlier this morning. God, he hoped Steve wasn't coming back to pick up where they'd left off.
Then Steve did something strange. He lifted his hands. Curled them gently around the place where Tony's shoulders met his biceps: soft at first, but then adding just a touch of pressure, enough that Tony's brain noticed it and perked up, flared back into life just a little. The sensation of it kicked off a chain reaction. He realised his thumb hurt, and he needed to pee, and that he'd somehow forgotten to turn on the light as he'd been walking through the kitchen because it was dark as shit and he could actually barely see the other man an inch away from him.
"Tony," Steve's voice was calm, firm, and left absolutely no room for argument. "You can stop now."
Tony didn't respond, too busy trying to process that in his head. It didn't sound right - he knew there was a list, he did, and it was his job to do it and he'd been working at it for the last five days and there wasn't time to stop, there just wasn't. That was what he'd been telling himself, over and over and over. But then, if that was true, it would mean that Steve was wrong. Steve was rarely wrong.
"You can stop," Steve said again. "It's okay to stop."
Was it really?
"Natasha needs--"
"She will be fine. You've created dozens of variants of that uniform for her. Her wardrobe is literally full of protective gear." Steve gave him another gentle squeeze, and it felt good, it felt really good for Steve to touch him. It'd been days since they'd touched. Tony had just been so busy, and then when they had seen eachother they'd been fighting about the fucking portal debacle from Tuesday and now, wow, it felt so good to be touched. The care, the love, it seemed to seep out from Steve's fingers. He'd not even realised he'd been in fight or flight mode all day until he was reminded, right now, of how it felt to be safe.
"I shouldn't," Tony's voice was quiet. He shook his head.
Steve just nodded his. "Yes you should. Come on sweetheart. You know you need to rest. You're doing no-one any favours by running around half-delirious."
"I'm not half delirious."
"JARVIS told me you couldn't even undress yourself. And you're bleeding all over our floor, by the way." Steve's head nodded downward, and Tony looked to see that yeah, Steve was actually right. There was a smattering of small, delicate crimson drops staining their cream tiles.
Tony frowned, recalling the vague memory of his thumb hurting. He glanced down, and spotted the nail that he'd accidentally removed about 20% of. It was a bad habit. Howard had absolutely fucking hated his nail biting - he used to rip Tony's hand straight out of his mouth if ever he got caught in the act, often taking the rest of the nail he'd had his teeth clamped around with it.
"Oh," was all Tony could say.
Without changing a shade, Steve moved again, hand slipping around Tony's and lifting it. He efficiently slotted Tony's thumb into his mouth, sucking off the blood, and then leaned sideways, delving into the drawer where they kept (amongst a plethora of other random assorted crap) the band-aids. He wound it around Tony's thumb, taking extra care to ensure that the raw skin of his cuticle was padded by the gauze and didn't touch the adhesive. When that was done, he shifted his attention to Tony's dress shirt, popping open the first few with frustrating ease. They'd definitely not been playing ball when it'd been Tony trying to make them open.
"It's time to call it a night," Steve told him. Now his hand was on Tony's jaw. His thumb was rubbing a little circle just in front of Tony's ear, like a massage, and God it felt so good that in that moment Tony lost sight of everything else. The work, the sting of pain, the frantic cacophony of 'do more, do more, do more' that had been looping uncontrollably in his head. The one thing that stood between Tony Stark and oblivion was Steve Rogers' right thumb, and man, it was fucking holding up.
Then, slowly, Steve pulled him into his arms. With one hand still pressing into the side of Tony's, the other circled around the his shoulders. They drew him into the impossible feeling of safety that came with being immersed in Steve's hug, and that was it. That was just it.
Tony sagged. He felt Steve's mouth press a gentle kiss against the top of his head. He was so, so, so fucking tired.
"Wanna go to bed?" Steve asked softly.
Tony nodded.
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itsany62 · 15 days
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tired & cuddly
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itsany62 · 15 days
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A Hundred Golden Urns Explicit, 7.5k words Read it on AO3
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itsany62 · 15 days
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People thought Tony would be the possessive one, but it's actually Steve😤
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itsany62 · 15 days
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hmm
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itsany62 · 15 days
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itsany62 · 15 days
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itsany62 · 15 days
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For @lightsonparkave prompt “almond blossoms”
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itsany62 · 1 month
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all the bookplates i drew for the stevetony notebook orders~
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itsany62 · 1 month
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for starvels as part of @stevetonydarkfests
on ao3
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itsany62 · 1 month
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by nekojuicecz
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itsany62 · 1 month
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Happily, After
Summary:
Saving the world will never be enough for Tony Stark. They will never stop demanding a new piece of him. And Tony won’t stop giving if it means to keep his daughter safe.
Well, it’s a good thing Steve is here to put a stopper on that.
A/N:
Finally got around to writing overworked and exhausted Tony. Added lots of irondad and little maguna feels, and a dash of Cap Sam ❣️ Read for post endgame AU where everyone lives and Steve is a stubborn s-o-b determined to love Tony no matter what
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itsany62 · 1 month
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by @hoshi1_805
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itsany62 · 2 months
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besides the well-known fact that tony stark's arc reactor literally powered his heart and symbolised his second chance at life, it's been not just alluded to but clearly stated by marvel from the very first iron man film that it represents his heart:
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this point is made very clear again when it's used to portray his death:
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of course they did this; they're such obvious metaphors that are easy to rely on for beautiful visual storytelling. they undoubtedly were aware of the potential for these scenes and carefully considered them since the beginning.
but you don't really get to use each of these moments more than once if you want them to matter, so they had to choose which one of tony's stories needed to be told through carefully picked parallels.
and who did they use them on?
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yup, that's right. steve rogers. steve, who literally ends their painful fight by breaking his heart.
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steve, whom tony literally hands his heart and says "here, take this" while he's devastated, disappointed, and at one of the lowest moments of his entire life.
so, platonic, romantic, alterous — the intricacies of his feelings don't even matter. they're only for tony to know.
but what we as an audience know, what we were explicitly told by marvel, is that the feelings tony had for steve were so strong that they were the equivalent of getting his heart actually shattered into pieces, and being reduced to offering your desperate, mourning heart on a platter as a way of saying "take it all, there's nothing left of me that you don't own now".
these were not accidents. we were meant to understand how profound his feelings were. so many things spiraled out of their falling out — the entire universe's faith was at stake as a result. tony was not indifferent to him. his problem was that he felt too much.
tony's achille's heel was always steve rogers, and that will forever be the backbone of the marvel universe.
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itsany62 · 2 months
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by @khimTF
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itsany62 · 2 months
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When Cap first is carrying injured Tony, he is super gentle with him.
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After some time passes though–
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–he goes from bridal style to potato sack.
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itsany62 · 2 months
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Steve, where are you looking at? The cat is on the bed, Steve.
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I'm sure that cat is so spoiled. :D
This is for @feuer-bluete and @ishipallthings. Thank you so much for the job! I really loved drawing the boys being relaxed and happy with each other. Plus bonus cute kitty! <3
Commissions are open and you can also find/support me at these links below.
commission info / patreon / ao3 / Buy Me a Coffee ☕
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