Marvel Will Literally Put A Guy On Top Of Another Guy, Chest On Chest, And Swear On Their Life They're

Tony: Listen, I know I'm not your father-

Peter: I know.

Tony:

Peter: I know you're not my father Mr. Stark.

Tony: But-

Peter: Do you know?

Tony:

Peter: Do you know you're not my father?

Tony: Yes, I know.

Peter: You don't act like someone who is not my father, Mr. Stark.

I'm gonna name my cat after him.

New headcanon of the day:

Goody two shoes Peter parker got suspended only once in his life

Tony had to pick Peter up

When he asked the admin assistant what happened she brings out the incident report

Tony:...Peter got suspended..

The assistant: Mhm.

Tony: because he yelled at his science teacher for calling me 'not a real scientist '

I'd like to think that Mobius has some pretty nice handwriting and Loki adores it.

For example, he asks Loki to look over his notes for a case to either catch him up or is just in need of a second pair of eyes. Loki tries to read it but is honestly distracted by the simple yet elegant swoop and swirl of each letter. Instead of actually reading the notes he finds himself staring, scanning over every word and every letter- intricate yet carefree.

'Beautiful as though it was poetry in itself, a unity of sorts,' Loki thinks to himself.

"So what do you think? " Mobius drags him back to reality and Loki gets flustered not realizing what he's been doing until he's been doing it for too long.

"Oh- yes quite right, it looks fine." He hands back the notes hastily, overcome with feeling warm he avoids looking at Mobius. "I'm going to check on another file," he says leaving Mobius at their table confused beyond all measure.

Tony: *pours coffee onto his spanner* shit. Thats not my mug

FRIDAY: boss. It has been 49 hours since you last slept more than 6 consecutive hours. May I recommend you get some sleep?

Tony: I'm fine, 6 hours is a long time, when was the last time I got any sleep?

FRIDAY: you got appriximately 5 minutes of sleep 26 hours ago sir

Tony: ...good enough for me

FRIDAY: may I recommend you get some rest before Miss Potts is made aware of this?

Tony: I didn't make no snitch, keep your damn mouth shut

Sambucky is on my mind again!

I can only imagine with the metal arm and being a super soldier that Bucky is a pretty heavy guy. And Sam needs to be able to catch his dumbass when he jumps from tall buildings without a plan, so he starts weight lifting to be able to carry Bucky. But that means that he needs to be able to confidently lift like 250 lbs, so he ends up getting pretty muscular from it. Cue Bucky drooling when he sees how jacked Sam is getting without realizing it's all for him.

It’s not that Bucky missed it happening; that’s just not possible with how often he’s watching Sam.

It’s just, well. It’s a gradual change, so slow it’s easy to not notice it happening.

And it’s all the same, because Bucky’s definitely noticing it now.

Sam’s just back from his morning run, sweat running down his face and stinging his eyes, so he lifts up the loose cotton t-shirt he has on and wipes at his face as he greets Bucky breathlessly.

Bucky’s brain kind of, well, short-circuits, blood rushing out and heading south. His mouth is suddenly dry, ears ringing, and he’s frozen against the kitchen counter, his eyes unconsciously following Sam as he heads toward the fridge and grabs the orange juice, drinking right from the box because otherwise he would be too perfect to be human.

Bucky takes a scalding sip from his coffee cup, burns his tongue and slams the cup down, eyes a little blurry, images of Sam’s extraordinary toned stomach and deliciously muscular arms tauntingly flashing in his mind.

He looks back at Sam, who’s staring at him with a raised eyebrow. At least the t-shirt is covering his stomach again, small mercies. Less of a mercy is the way his shorts are hugging his thighs and ass when he turns to put the juice back in the fridge.

God, Bucky is going to walk into a wall and knock himself out, what the fuck.

“Hey, Buck,” Sam says, and he getting closer, actually looking kind of worried now. “You okay?”

Bucky almost swallows his tongue when Sam’s close enough, because he can smell him now, on top of everything else, and it’s edging on a little too much, even for a super-soldier like himself.

He takes a deep breath (big mistake), tries to say, “yeah, I’m okay,” and ends up saying, “when did you get so muscular?”

Sam blinks, opens his mouth, closes it, then blinks again for good measure.

Bucky’s face burns; he wants to step away from the situation but there’s nowhere to go without pushing Sam out of the way, so he stays where he is, the counter’s edge digging into his back when he leans back into it.

Suddenly, Sam takes a step back and looks down, face twisting like he’s embarrassed about something.

“Remember Colorado?”

Bucky frowns, nods, then says, “yeah,” because Sam’s still not looking at him.

“You jumped out the window—“

“I was thrown out the window.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “You weren’t supposed to be anywhere close to that window at all.”

“It wasn’t my fault that I was thrown out the damn window!”

Sam takes in a frustrated breath. “Anyway, I had to… catch you and I… I almost dropped you, Bucky.”

Bucky frowns again. He doesn’t remember Sam almost dropping him. All he remembers was how one second he was free-falling and the next he had Sam’s arms around him, breaking his fall and carrying him to safety. He remembers how he just knew that Sam would catch him, how he didn’t doubt it for a second.

“Sam?” he asks, because he’s not sure how this has anything to do with Sam’s incredibly fantastic muscles.

Sam sighs. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re kinda heavy, especially when I’m trying to catch you midair. So, I, uh. I started working out more, lifting more.”

“Oh,” Bucky says. His knees are a little weak, but that’s no one’s business.

Sam’s working out and lifting more so he could carry/catch Bucky. Bucky’s brain is about to melt right out his ears.

“That’s, hm,” he tries to say anything, because Sam is getting more embarrassed, starting to fidget.

“Look, I know—”

“Really hot.”

“Oh.”

Bucky sighs, pushes aways from the counter and wraps his arms around Sam’s waist, pulls him close.

Sam’s breath hitches. “Oh,” he repeats, and he blinks slowly up at Bucky, his eyes getting steadily darker.

“You,” Bucky says, even as his heart races, because god, Sam’s into this, too, “are going to be the death of me.”

Sam opens his mouth to say something about that, but Bucky just leans in and swallows the words right off his tongue.

They can talk later.

Now, though, Bucky is going to kiss every single one of Sam’s muscles.

read on ao3

Sunday afternoon workouts 🌟

"Just because I can doesn't mean I want to"

-Clint Barton, after being asked to train the recruits

It had started like a joke. Here and there with rhodey and pepper making comments like "wow tony. your a dad!"

Tony would laugh them off, a joke in his mind as Peter would shrink away from the attention with a nervous giggle.

It just wasn't one of those days, unfortunately for Peter.

They both were tinkering in the lab, Tony working on the repulsors while Peter worked on his webshooters,

Peter blabbered on about who knows what as the other scientist took concentrated sips from his cup of coffee, a migraine starting to form

"kid, maybe-"

Peter couldn't hear him as he rambled on

"and then he flipped in the air, can you believe it, dad?.. oh." Peters face flushed in embarrassment

And Tony just couldn't take it

"I am not your Dad!" He slammed the wrench down making Peter violently flinch tears in his eyes as he stared at Tony, wide eyed.

Tony ragged breaths were all they could hear in the lab before Peter spoke up

...

"...I know."

With that Peter stood up quickly the metal stool making a slight screeching sound making tony cringe.

Before the older one knew it, Peter was gone. The innocent one, the sunshine to Tony's cloudy day, was gone. Pushing past his way to the elevator with tears in his eyes.

Tony helping Stephen to sleep? Hope you have fun at con!!

Con was awesome! And you have reminded me that I need to blot my face out of some photos so that I can share. 😀  Plus, the swag report! Although most of the swag is for another fandom, because there’s not much Stephen stuff out there (though I did get two things!). 

Anyway, ficlet!

-

There was something particularly awful about a nightmare that prevented you from sleeping. At least if the damn thing woke Stephen up he’d gotten a couple of hours. At least if his dreaming mind inflicted it on him, it was involuntary. But to lie there, awake, and still be thinking about it was infuriating. Which did not make sleeping any easier.

Sighing, Stephen sat up and pulled on a dressing gown. Maybe a hot drink would help him relax. Or some reading.

But when his bedroom door swung open, Wong was standing on the threshold, arms crossed. Stephen did <i>not</i> jump. “Wong! What are you doing?”

“Making sure that you sleep.”

Stephen groaned, rubbing at sore eyes. “If I could, I would.”

“You know what will help,” Wong said, unmoved.

Stephen flushed, but didn’t try to pretend he didn’t understand. They’d both lost patience with that song and dance. “He’s not a sleep aid. And it’s two in the morning.”

Wong raised his hands and started casting a portal.

“What are you doing?!” Stephen yelped.

“Countering your objections,” Wong said. 

The portal bloomed open, revealing Tony’s workshop. The man himself was sprawling in a rolling chair, looking up at projected blueprints. He didn’t seem at all surprised when he turned to look through the portal. “Nightmare?”

Wong answered before Stephen could. “Nightmares would require him to sleep at all.”

Stephen shot Wong a glare before turning to Tony. “I’m sorry to bother you.”

“Hey, I meant it when I said any time,” Tony said. “You got pajamas I can borrow, or should I grab some?”

“I have some,” Stephen said. He refused to look at Wong even as Tony stepped through the portal and Stephen felt the tension easing out of his neck and shoulders and… well, everything. 

Later, head resting on Tony’s chest, the man’s heart beating reassuringly in his ear, eyes already drooping, Stephen decided that this was worth Wong’s inevitable ‘I told you so.’

Maybe even a few times over.