summerpipedream - Tumblr blog

summerpipedream · 2 months

Note

Kissing prompt!!

Forbidden kisses + "i really, really want to kiss you right now"

Bestie prompts! Bestie prompts! Check out the read more for the rest of it <3

Part 1 | Part 2

Steve would have liked to have talked to Tony about that kiss, but he hadn’t gotten the chance to before Rhodey had realized the time and hustled the two of them back out the door so they wouldn’t be too late in getting to their dorm and have to sleep on the porch. He would have figured out a way to meet up with him in person, except that the football team is doing a retreat in California and doesn’t have the kind of money to fly back and forth to New York. He would have texted him over the summer instead, but Tony had told them all before the semester ended that he wouldn’t be able to talk to any of them because his dad monitored his communications too closely, and Steve doesn’t want to get him in trouble and run the risk of Howard moving Tony to yet another university. So it’s a restless summer, wanting to completely clear the air between the two of them and make sure they’re on the same page and being completely unable to.

He has every intention of talking to Tony when they both get back from summer break, but Tony is apparently playing Least In Sight, which hopefully doesn’t mean that he’s decided that Steve isn’t what he wants and is just nervous that Steve has changed his mind.

With that in mind, Steve has every intention of tracking Tony down himself, but there’s only one problem with that—he can’t actually get into the omega dorms. Tony has always come to their college to hang out, so Steve doesn’t even know which dorm he’s staying in, let alone which room he’s in or how to get in without getting spotted by the matron.

“So go to his apartment?” Natasha suggests like he’s an idiot when he complains about his problem to her.

He lifts his head off the table and blinks at her. “…What apartment?”

“What do you mean what apartment?” Natasha asks. “The one his mom got him.” She reaches over and flicks his forehead. “Duh.”

“Tony’s mom got him an apartment? Why?”

“Because Tony likes to nest and it’s impossible to do that in the dorms. She thought he needed a safe space. He spends most of his time there. He really never mentioned it to you?”

“Guess it just never came up,” Steve muses, not terribly hurt by the idea that Tony didn’t confide in him. Omegas tend to be very protective of their nests—if they like to nest in the first place—and anyway, he and Tony never really got on the subject of nests. They always had other things to talk about.

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Alright, well—” She grabs a piece of paper and a pen from Steve’s bag—“here’s the address. Go over there and put him out of his misery, would you? Don’t come home until you’re both thoroughly debauched.”

“Why, Natasha Romanoff, what kind of alpha do you think I am?” Steve says, putting a hand to his chest as though he’s scandalized. She grins, seeing right through his act, balls up the paper, and throws it at him.

“Get out of here, Rogers.”

Tony’s apartment is in the nicest part of the town—well, it’s all nice; if Steve wasn’t playing football for the university, he definitely wouldn’t have been able to afford it—which says something about how nice it is. The lobby is gilded with what might be actual gold, the floors are marble, and the Art Deco style has Steve’s fingers itching for his sketchbook. Tony lives in the penthouse, and though Steve is fully anticipating that he’ll need a special key for the elevator, it turns out that instead, the elevator opens up into a small room with a door on the other end.

He takes a deep breath, steels himself for whatever Tony might say—even if it’s a rejection—and knocks.

It’s only about thirty seconds or so before the door opens, but it feels like forever, Steve’s nerves building and building to a fever-pitch.

“Steve!” Tony exclaims when he opens the door, looking surprised. He looks gorgeous in an oversized button-down that smells faintly of Rhodey and a tiny pair of shorts. His hair is messy like he’s been running his fingers through it, his lips are red like he’s been biting them, and Steve really, really wants to tip him over onto the closest bed and find out if that’s what he looks like when he’s just been fucked too. “What are you doing here?” Well. That doesn’t bode well.

Steve takes a deep breath, readying himself to give the speech he’s spent all summer working on—only for the words to promptly flee his mind, leaving him floundering.

“I don’t know why you haven’t come to see us yet,” he starts off. “Rhodey was there on Wednesday, but not you, and I don’t know why, but I’m terrified it’s because you realized this isn’t what you want. Or maybe you think I don’t want it, or you think I’m scared of what might happen if we get caught, but Tony, sweetheart, I’m not scared. I don’t care what’ll happen, I could never care because I’d have you, and that’s better than anything else in the entire world. I really like you, Tony, and I’m hoping you really like me too, so if you want to take a shot at this, then I’m more than game. I will literally get on my knees and beg for you to give me a chance.”

“There’s no need for that,” Tony says immediately, looking faintly alarmed. His hand tightens so much on the door that his knuckles turn white. “You really don’t care that fraternization is forbidden between us?”

“I really don’t,” Steve swears. He hesitates, then adds, “I hope that means you want this because, I’ll be honest here, sweetheart, I really, really want to kiss you right now.”

The corner of Tony’s mouth tips up, and the next thing he knows, Tony’s hand has fisted in his shirt and he’s being pulled inside, the door closing behind them with a very final-sounding thud. Steve finds himself slammed up against the door, a very eager Tony attached to him at all the places he can be attached—including Steve’s mouth, which he suddenly realizes isn’t nearly active enough for the attention being lavished on it.

He kisses Tony hard, tongue tracing his lips until he opens for him, and flips them around, pressing Tony into the door. Tony makes a muffled noise that sounds a little like a moan and a little like a whine, and then he’s wrapping one leg around Steve’s hips, hands twining around his neck, as Steve kisses him and kisses him and kisses him. Tony tastes like coffee and vanilla creamer, and Steve desperately wants more of it.

Breathing, however, is an unfortunate necessity, so he pulls back after another long kiss. He feels lightheaded, and he doesn’t know if it’s from the lack of air or just the fact that he has Tony in his arms, wrapped around him like ivy on a brick house.

“Hi,” he says softly, leaning forward to kiss the tip of Tony’s nose.

Tony beams at him, eyes soft and dark and warm, as inviting as a fireplace in winter. “Hi,” he says and kisses Steve again.

#cuteeee #stony #iam93percentstardust

42 notes · View notes

summerpipedream · 2 months

Text

I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.

#💜💜💜#hameletthedane

25K notes · View notes

summerpipedream · 2 months

Text

The Innkeeper's Guide to Love and Werewolves

Written originally for the winteriron @reforgedzine - leftover sales are happening right now until Bucky's birthday (March 10th 2023). You can grab copies of the zine itself (physical and digital) as well as all the amazing merch. Don't wait! Once it's gone, it's gone.

Pairing: Bucky/Tony Rating: T Canon typical violence, alternate universe (urban fantasy), magic, innkeeper's chronicle au, supernatural elements

According to the Innkeeper’s Guidebook, there were many rules to being a good innkeeper.

Special requests should be carefully read and considered with care. Fae guests typically enjoyed having fresh milk and a warm slice of toast in the afternoon. To show extra hospitality, the guide recommends ensuring that a bit of milk spills out of the glass as it is poured.

Werewolf guests preferred extra bloody steaks for dinner. Having extra bath salts and oils on hand for mermaid and siren guests goes the extra mile.

Whether against supernatural forces or nosy human neighbors, the safety of the guests while staying in the inn was paramount. Regardless of any feuds or disputes guests had among themselves, fighting on inn grounds between guests was prohibited. The inn was to remain neutral at all times, following the laws of sanctuary.

Innkeepers only intervened to protect guests or if the inn was directly threatened. Guests were always the first and only priority. Safety, neutrality, and hospitality were the key ingredients in running a successful inn.

Tony wasn’t the best innkeeper.

He was, however, a petty innkeeper.

With a flick of his hand, Tiberius Stone flew out the front door. Like a rock skipping the surface of a river, the vampire bounced down the front steps, landing in a heap on the driveway.

Tony leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed. “Let me make it perfectly clear to you, Ty. I will never, ever date you again, I don’t need your money, I don’t need your help, and I would rather die than sell you this place.”

He felt Goose wind her way around his feet, moving to stand in front of him. Her back was raised as she hissed at the fallen vampire across from them.

Ty pushed himself to his feet with a scowl. His eyes flashed black. “You’re making a mistake, Anthony.”

“Definitely not.”

Ty stepped forward. “Do you really think this place will survive? You’ll come crawling back to me in no time—”

“Don’t take another step. I’m warning you.”

“—and when you do, I’ll make you beg and plead for me to save you—”

“FRIDAY, my dear, it’s time to take out the trash. Revoke his welcome.”

A barrier of blue energy shimmered, a brief warning before the inn evicted the unwelcome guest from her grounds. Tony winced in delight as Ty skidded down the road, his expensive suit covered in rocks and dirt. Ouch.

Ty snarled, his fangs drawn. “You’ll regret this.”

With a slam of his car door, the outlandish red Corvette screeched down the street as Ty drove off.

Goose hissed once more for good measure, fluffy tail raised high behind her. Tony bent down to scoop her up into his arms. “What a fierce girl.”

Goose purred as she rubbed her face against his.

“He was always a dramatic one,” mused Natasha, appearing behind him. Thankfully, Tony had long gotten used to her sneaking up behind him, so he didn’t bat an eye when she sidled up next to him on the porch.

“I should’ve never agreed to go out with him in the first place,” muttered Tony with a scowl. “If I’d known that one awful single date would lead to him never leaving me alone—”

The drider duchess sipped her steaming cup of tea. “I wouldn’t worry too much. Vampires always love wallowing in their misery. It’ll be a good while before he’ll even think about retaliating.”

Tony grimaced. “We’ll see.”

Natasha’s fangs glinted in the sunlight. “If he does become a nuisance, I can always eat him for you.”

“I appreciate the offer,” chuckled Tony, “I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with Pepper. Doesn’t she hate the taste of blood?”

“More than anything,�� conceded Natasha, “but for her favorite innkeeper, she’d understand. I’m sure Goose would also be thrilled to eat him, wouldn’t you?”

Goose meowed back, nudging her head against Natasha’s hand.

Tony’s lips twitched. “I’ll let you know if it comes to that. You should go inside. I’m going to do a quick sweep before heading in.”

He had hoped that whatever had been attacking the local dogs and livestock was a coyote or bobcat. Something mundane. Unfortunately, after the latest attack, it was clear that whatever creature had been passing through was much more magical and here to stay.

Natasha pursed her lips. “You know you shouldn’t get involved. The humans can deal with their own messes.”

“You know I can’t sit back and do nothing. They’ll keep escalating and eventually burst through the front door. And by then, it’ll be too late.”

Natasha sighed. “Be careful.”

“I will. Have a good night.”

As Natasha made her way inside, Tony gently let Goose down onto the porch. She stared up at him, clearly unimpressed at no longer being carried.

“Jarvis is probably lighting the fireplace soon. If you’re quick, you can beat DUM-E before he gets to the sitting room.”

She stared back at him unblinking as she yowled at him. Like many flerkins, Goose was protective of her people. Even if it meant giving up her favorite napping spot to the dog of the inn, she was ready to strike when necessary.

“I’ll be fine. It’ll only take a little while.”

With one last rub of her face against his hand, Goose followed the duchess indoors.

Grabbing his broom, Tony wandered down the porch past the driveway and onto the garden path. The moon was full and bright as it illuminated the clear night sky. With a hum, he meticulously patrolled the borders of the grounds, nudging the enchantments to see if they remained intact and secured.

As he approached the back garden, he noticed a figure standing by the pine trees. From a distance, it looked like they were admiring the flowerbeds, but Tony knew better. He clenched his jaw and stormed forward.

“Bucky Barnes, stop pissing on my petunias!”

The werewolf strolled into town only a few months ago, claiming the territory as his own. Establishing strong ties with the new alpha would be in the best interests of the inn.

Tony researched intently for the anticipated meeting. He’d spent hours reading up on werewolf customs and cohabitation rules with new clans, waiting for the new alpha leader to settle in before reaching out to introduce himself. As weeks went by without a word, it was clear that the new alpha had no intentions of reaching out to the innkeeper.

It was fine. If the werewolf wanted to pretend that the inn didn’t exist, Tony would gladly do the same.

However, as the attacks started getting progressively worse, Tony could no longer leave it in the hands of the werewolf.

After adjusting his pants, Bucky turned around with a crooked grin.

“I only followed your advice,” said Bucky. His eyes were dark, darker than normal this close to the moon. He wore a black leather jacket, his favorite red henley and jeans. A pair of black leather motorcycle gloves stuck out of his jacket pocket.

Tony was furious that the werewolf’s hair still looked effortlessly perfect, even after a trek through the woods.

He eyed Tony up and down with a grin, his fangs peeking through. “You told me to mark my territory.”

“I told you to take care of it. Not to destroy my flowers and smother your scent all over my inn.”

“This is my territory. I’m taking care of it.”

“That’s what you said a week ago.”

Bucky’s smile tightened. “I have some leads.”

“Sure you do.”

Bucky moved in closer, forcing Tony to look up at him as he felt his back hit the tree. Tony’s breath hitched as Bucky met his gaze head-on.

“Hang tight, sweetheart,” whispered Bucky. “You don’t have to worry about your precious inn. Just stay out of my way.”

“Oh, believe me,” breathed Tony, “that’d be the last place I want to be.”

Bucky’s grin remained unchanging. “You sure? We could have a lot of fun together.”

He leaned in even closer, his lips inches away from Tony’s ear. “I don’t know what you know, but this creature is much more dangerous than your run-of-the-mill human. I’m not sure what you expect to do with that broom.”

Tony huffed. “I can handle my broom just fine.” The puzzle pieces were slowly clicking into place. “What do you think an innkeeper does?”

“...Cook breakfast? Nap at the front desk? Pretend to clean. I don’t get what that has anything to do with this. Wait—”

Bucky stepped back, his head tilted. “Did you hear that?”

Tony scowled, freezing as he carefully listened. After a moment, he tensed.

He couldn’t hear anything. The forest was quiet, too quiet.

Bucky turned towards the trees.

“Stay here. I’ll be back.”

Before Tony could even protest, Bucky had already sprinted off into the woods.

Tony cursed before he sprinted after him. He tried his best to keep up, but Bucky was even faster after transforming into his full werewolf form. It didn’t take long for Tony to fall behind. He listened intently, following Bucky’s trail of clothing he had shed through the trees.

“Why did he even bother with clothes?” muttered Tony. He picked up the discarded leather jacket and shirt, slinging them over his shoulder as he hurried forward.

A blood-curdling howl filled the air. Seconds later, a large dark blur streaked toward them.

“Move!”

Tony leapt back, skidding just out of the way of the figure barreling through where he once stood. Bucky was on its heels, jumping in between Tony and the creature. He snarled, claws drawn and fangs out as he charged to attack.

It was a large, black, canine creature made of shadows. Hollow sunken voids filled the space where eyes would have been. An oily, black ichor dripped from its teeth, emitting a strong waft of blood. It was unfamiliar, unlike any creature Tony had ever encountered.

Circling around, the creature ignored Tony completely, their focus locked onto Bucky. Tony was slightly offended that he wasn’t even considered a threat, but he had to concede that Bucky in his hybrid werewolf form was a much more intimidating presence.

A werewolf but also a former soldier, Bucky was efficient and lethal in his movements. He knew how to move and maximize his strikes for the most impact. He swiped and dodged, ducking in and out of the creature’s range as he waited for an opening.

Tony sighed. Bucky was holding his own, but if they wanted to wrap this up before it drew too much attention, he needed to intervene.

With a tap of his broom, he muttered an incantation under his breath. He scanned the trees above, focusing on the branches just above the creature’s head. Blue glowing tendrils of energy radiated from the broom hitting the branches. Like snakes slithering down, the branches reached down, constraining the snarling creature within their grasp.

With the creature restrained, Bucky darted forward, sinking his claws multiple times into the underbelly. With a guttural roar, the creature screamed, unable to move with the branches tethering them in place. After a shudder, it swayed and slumped over, motionless. Almost immediately, the body began to disintegrate into a dark ichor, seeping into the ground in an oily sludge.

The smell must have been potent as Bucky flinched back, covering his nose.

“Gross right? Probably explains why there wasn’t anything left to find before.”

Tony reached into his pocket, pulling out a small glass vial. He scooped a sample into the vial, careful to seal it properly before securely pocketing it. He felt Bucky inch closer to him, now transformed down into his smaller hybrid wolf form.

Tony turned around, carefully setting down the metal prosthetic in front of the werewolf. “You really should consider getting an arm that transforms with you. Don’t give me that look. Yes, it’s possible. You just need some transmutation runes etched in them. But what do I know, I’m just an innkeeper.”

Bucky’s tail drooped, his ears flattening against his head in a whine. He was larger than a normal grey wolf in this form, but somehow managed to look like a sad puppy as he stared mournfully into the ground.

Tony sighed. “Well, at least you’re sorry.”

He draped the red henley over the wolf’s head, like a cloak. “Looks like we’re saved from clean up duty. I’m leaving before the rangers make their way over. I suggest you do the same, little red.”

Broom in hand, Tony started walking back towards the inn. He didn't turn around, but he could feel Bucky’s gaze on the back of his neck.

Read the rest on ao3

Get the zine

#buckytony #tonybucky #winteriron #reforged zine #werewolf bucky barnes #innkeeper tony stark #summerpipedream writes #queue

16 notes · View notes

summerpipedream · 2 months

Text

The Innkeeper's Guide to Love and Werewolves

Pairing: Bucky/Tony Rating: T Canon typical violence, alternate universe (urban fantasy), magic, innkeeper's chronicle au, supernatural elements

According to the Innkeeper’s Guidebook, there were many rules to being a good innkeeper.

Werewolf guests preferred extra bloody steaks for dinner. Having extra bath salts and oils on hand for mermaid and siren guests goes the extra mile.

Tony wasn’t the best innkeeper.

He was, however, a petty innkeeper.

With a flick of his hand, Tiberius Stone flew out the front door. Like a rock skipping the surface of a river, the vampire bounced down the front steps, landing in a heap on the driveway.

He felt Goose wind her way around his feet, moving to stand in front of him. Her back was raised as she hissed at the fallen vampire across from them.

Ty pushed himself to his feet with a scowl. His eyes flashed black. “You’re making a mistake, Anthony.”

“Definitely not.”

Ty stepped forward. “Do you really think this place will survive? You’ll come crawling back to me in no time—”

“Don’t take another step. I’m warning you.”

“—and when you do, I’ll make you beg and plead for me to save you—”

“FRIDAY, my dear, it’s time to take out the trash. Revoke his welcome.”

Ty snarled, his fangs drawn. “You’ll regret this.”

With a slam of his car door, the outlandish red Corvette screeched down the street as Ty drove off.

Goose hissed once more for good measure, fluffy tail raised high behind her. Tony bent down to scoop her up into his arms. “What a fierce girl.”

Goose purred as she rubbed her face against his.

“I should’ve never agreed to go out with him in the first place,” muttered Tony with a scowl. “If I’d known that one awful single date would lead to him never leaving me alone—”

Tony grimaced. “We’ll see.”

Natasha’s fangs glinted in the sunlight. “If he does become a nuisance, I can always eat him for you.”

“I appreciate the offer,” chuckled Tony, “I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with Pepper. Doesn’t she hate the taste of blood?”

“More than anything,” conceded Natasha, “but for her favorite innkeeper, she’d understand. I’m sure Goose would also be thrilled to eat him, wouldn’t you?”

Goose meowed back, nudging her head against Natasha’s hand.

Tony’s lips twitched. “I’ll let you know if it comes to that. You should go inside. I’m going to do a quick sweep before heading in.”

Natasha pursed her lips. “You know you shouldn’t get involved. The humans can deal with their own messes.”

“You know I can’t sit back and do nothing. They’ll keep escalating and eventually burst through the front door. And by then, it’ll be too late.”

Natasha sighed. “Be careful.”

“I will. Have a good night.”

As Natasha made her way inside, Tony gently let Goose down onto the porch. She stared up at him, clearly unimpressed at no longer being carried.

“Jarvis is probably lighting the fireplace soon. If you’re quick, you can beat DUM-E before he gets to the sitting room.”

“I’ll be fine. It’ll only take a little while.”

With one last rub of her face against his hand, Goose followed the duchess indoors.

“Bucky Barnes, stop pissing on my petunias!”

The werewolf strolled into town only a few months ago, claiming the territory as his own. Establishing strong ties with the new alpha would be in the best interests of the inn.

It was fine. If the werewolf wanted to pretend that the inn didn’t exist, Tony would gladly do the same.

However, as the attacks started getting progressively worse, Tony could no longer leave it in the hands of the werewolf.

After adjusting his pants, Bucky turned around with a crooked grin.

Tony was furious that the werewolf’s hair still looked effortlessly perfect, even after a trek through the woods.

He eyed Tony up and down with a grin, his fangs peeking through. “You told me to mark my territory.”

“I told you to take care of it. Not to destroy my flowers and smother your scent all over my inn.”

“This is my territory. I’m taking care of it.”

“That’s what you said a week ago.”

Bucky’s smile tightened. “I have some leads.”

“Sure you do.”

Bucky moved in closer, forcing Tony to look up at him as he felt his back hit the tree. Tony’s breath hitched as Bucky met his gaze head-on.

“Hang tight, sweetheart,” whispered Bucky. “You don’t have to worry about your precious inn. Just stay out of my way.”

“Oh, believe me,” breathed Tony, “that’d be the last place I want to be.”

Bucky’s grin remained unchanging. “You sure? We could have a lot of fun together.”

Tony huffed. “I can handle my broom just fine.” The puzzle pieces were slowly clicking into place. “What do you think an innkeeper does?”

“...Cook breakfast? Nap at the front desk? Pretend to clean. I don’t get what that has anything to do with this. Wait—”

Bucky stepped back, his head tilted. “Did you hear that?”

Tony scowled, freezing as he carefully listened. After a moment, he tensed.

He couldn’t hear anything. The forest was quiet, too quiet.

Bucky turned towards the trees.

“Stay here. I’ll be back.”

Before Tony could even protest, Bucky had already sprinted off into the woods.

“Why did he even bother with clothes?” muttered Tony. He picked up the discarded leather jacket and shirt, slinging them over his shoulder as he hurried forward.

A blood-curdling howl filled the air. Seconds later, a large dark blur streaked toward them.

“Move!”

Tony sighed. Bucky was holding his own, but if they wanted to wrap this up before it drew too much attention, he needed to intervene.

The smell must have been potent as Bucky flinched back, covering his nose.

“Gross right? Probably explains why there wasn’t anything left to find before.”

Tony sighed. “Well, at least you’re sorry.”

Broom in hand, Tony started walking back towards the inn. He didn't turn around, but he could feel Bucky’s gaze on the back of his neck.

Read the rest on ao3

Get the zine

#buckytony #tonybucky #winteriron #reforged zine #werewolf bucky barnes #innkeeper tony stark #summerpipedream writes

16 notes · View notes