Mechanical Dreams

policeghost:

shutupandgotosleep:

soloduo:

i am in the most terrible mood, ive been bitched at all day, blamed for shit i didnt do, MY PEN BROKE, and they expect me to act like nothing happened god. 

so this picture is really. horrible. sorry. its hard to draw with just the eraser part LOL…and i just really wasnt in the mood to try.

sob.

this is for all the folks helpin me out with my pen, im sure youre stevetony fans? i hope..8| 

(I think you already went to bed, but doo doo doodoo!  Here to give you fic in hopes it will make your day better ♥  I’ve spent my day running about, moving into my dorm and feeling shitty.  My leg is acting up and I have a headache, so perhaps this for myself as well, yes?  SteveTony therapy.  It’s a legit treatment *POKERFACE* )

“You need to learn to kiss,” Tony tells him one day from the sofa.  He’s got his computer in his lap and a coffee in the hand he’s not typing with.  Steve starts and stares at Tony, but the dark-haired genius doesn’t so much as look up, face unchanging from its careful concentration.

Tony’s taught Steve how to use computers, how to dance, how to use a many other manner of modern technology, and even how to understand many of today’s social customs and expectations, but what Tony has just suggested is… He thought the dancing was ridiculous, kissing is completely inappropriate.

Tony had once brought up that homosexuality was no longer considered a mental disorder, but even still, Steve sometimes has trouble wrapping his head around these sorts of things, and Tony’s suggestion, coupled with the casual demeanour with which the suggestion was delivered, has Steve’s cheeks hot and red within mere moments.

“That…” Steve splutters.  ”That’s hardly…”

Tony does look up then.  He lifts his blue-eyed gaze from his computer screen to Steve’s face, eyes intense with practiced ease and purpose and he sets his computer aside, folding it shut.  He sets down his coffee and walks — no, swaggers — over to Steve.  He is clearly feeding off of Steve’s unease like a bird of prey and in the moments it takes Tony to get from one side of the living room to the other, Steve feels absurdly like something facing a terrifying predator.

“Whaddya scared of, soldier?” Tony asks.  His mouth is spread in a cocky smirk and Steve would really like to pretend it has no effect on him but the increasing flush on his face insistently proves otherwise.  ”It’s just me.  No one else is here,” Tony continues, putting a hand on Steve’s neck, running his thumb over his jaw.  Steve’s hand snaps out, grabbing Tony’s wrist, intending to wrench him away, but Tony is leaning down now, their lips mere breaths away and Steve finds himself rooted to the spot by the embarrassment of the heat that courses through him steadily in face of Tony’s advances.

“Just one kiss,” Tony murmurs.  His breath smells of coffee and candy and his eyes are half-open, dark eyelashes shadowing his cheekbones in the stark evening light in the living room.  ”If you don’t like it then we can find someone else for you to practice on.”

Steve knows better.  He knows this isn’t practice, that’s not what Tony is offering.  He’s offering—oh, Jesus, he is standing really close and he doesn’t look like he’s going to wait much longer for an answer.  He’s forced to place hand firmly on Tony’s chest, that deliciously Cheshire-like grin still aimed purposefully down at him, to keep Tony from pushing the issue while he thinks.

“Just one kiss?” Steve asks, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“Scout’s honour,” Tony swears, never mind that he’s never been a boy scout and they both know it.  ”Cross my heart and hope to die,” he adds, quietly and Steve’s heart thrums because he knows all too well the truth of those words.

“Just one,” Steve says again, then removes the pressure from Tony’s chest.  He’s expecting for Tony to pounce him, to devour him, leave him dizzy and panting, but instead he finds only a light press of lips.  Tony’s mouth is dry against his and civily closed.  His facial hair scratches against Steve’s contrarily smooth face and he finds himself fidgeting from the oddity of it, from the way Tony directs the kiss, leaning into him with careful lips and gentle hands, hunched over to get close enough for Steve to kiss him comfortably without standing from his seat.  Steve knows that Tony can’t be comfortable, neck curved like that but he’s still too shocked and flustered to do anything about it.

He finds himself dizzyingly lost in the soft feel of lips on his and when Tony moves to pull away, Steve just stands, pressing closer, using his grip on Tony’s wrist to keep him close, bring him close.  Tony makes a noise, sinking willingly forward until their bodies are pressed delightfully close, blood thrumming in sync.

Tony tries to pull back again and Steve stubbornly attempts to follow his lips only to have Tony laugh against his mouth and turn his head away.  He’s panting breathlessly, taking in greedy gulps of air and just barely manages to get out, “Steve!  Steve, Steve, Steve.  Let me breathe!”

Oh.  Oh.  Steve flushes, tucking his face against Tony’s neck, leaving kisses and nuzzles against the soft skin, waiting patiently.  He mumbles sorry into his fellow Avenger’s skin and gets nothing but a low, rumbling laugh in answer.

Finally Tony tugs him back up, but he doesn’t kiss him again, just looks at him expectantly.  He gets a confused frown in response and laughs.

“So?” he says.  ”Just one kiss.  Permission to do it again, Captain?”

There is mirth and arrogance in his voice and Steve’s eyebrows slowly arch up.  He can knock Tony’s ego down a couple of notches in the gym, perhaps he can duplicate this in this situation as well.  He does, after all, have incredible stamina.

Steve grins boyishly, but Tony knows better than to fall for the charm of his smile.  His expression is delightful, but the yelp he gives when Steve hoists him over his shoulder and heads for the stairs is priceless.

WEHHH just write fics to everything and i will die happy. a happy mel.

policeghost:

godkillme.png

i accidently drew tony wayyyy too short UUGHH i am so sorry its all wrong. its bothering me forever now but i really dont feel like editing..


i. have this thought in my head. cos. steve wouldnt have learned how to dancecos no one wanted to when hewas a little thing and so. tony figures he might as well teach him now. yeah….. 

policeghost:

godkillme.png

i accidently drew tony wayyyy too short UUGHH i am so sorry its all wrong. its bothering me forever now but i really dont feel like editing..


i. have this thought in my head. cos. steve wouldnt have learned how to dancecos no one wanted to when hewas a little thing and so. tony figures he might as well teach him now. yeah….. 

policeghost:

is somethin wrong, tony stark.

policeghost:

the supposed mock newspaper clipping.

Based on this fic from the earlier picture i drew!

policeghost:

8|

policeghost:

I don’t mean
To seem like I care about material things, 
Like our social status, 
I just want
Four walls and adobe slats
For my girls

(Source: policeghost)

(Source: original-look)