𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃.
@nomadlibertas.bsky.social
I’m not looking for forgiveness, and I’m way past asking permission.
I’m home, @alloysavvy.bsky.social.
I’m home, @alloysavvy.bsky.social.
— but strong, defined. Nimble fingers fiddle with wires above his head. His side profile is angelic.
September 1, 2025 at 10:32 AM
— but strong, defined. Nimble fingers fiddle with wires above his head. His side profile is angelic.
— how he sees him. Even black and white, light haloes greying curls and smooths out ageing skin. A few days of stubble—where his sharp goatee hasn’t been shaped—stretches down his throat, tapering at his Adam’s apple. The muscles in his shoulders and biceps are pronounced; slender and lean, —
September 1, 2025 at 10:32 AM
— how he sees him. Even black and white, light haloes greying curls and smooths out ageing skin. A few days of stubble—where his sharp goatee hasn’t been shaped—stretches down his throat, tapering at his Adam’s apple. The muscles in his shoulders and biceps are pronounced; slender and lean, —
The chair squeaks, straining under two-hundred and forty pounds, wheels kinked outward, unable to hold all that weight 𝙖𝙣𝙙 turn smoothly. Steve goes with it, no protest, uncovering his sketch as he’s spun around.
“Well, 𝘶𝘩, it ain’t finished yet, 𝙗𝙪𝙩—”
His picture of Tony is a reflection of —
“Well, 𝘶𝘩, it ain’t finished yet, 𝙗𝙪𝙩—”
His picture of Tony is a reflection of —
September 1, 2025 at 10:31 AM
The chair squeaks, straining under two-hundred and forty pounds, wheels kinked outward, unable to hold all that weight 𝙖𝙣𝙙 turn smoothly. Steve goes with it, no protest, uncovering his sketch as he’s spun around.
“Well, 𝘶𝘩, it ain’t finished yet, 𝙗𝙪𝙩—”
His picture of Tony is a reflection of —
“Well, 𝘶𝘩, it ain’t finished yet, 𝙗𝙪𝙩—”
His picture of Tony is a reflection of —
— He sets his pencil down in the crease of his sketchbook’s spine and holds both against his thigh.
“You’re a beautiful creature, Tony. I want to do you justice. Which requires me to 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦.”
“You’re a beautiful creature, Tony. I want to do you justice. Which requires me to 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦.”
August 31, 2025 at 7:31 PM
— He sets his pencil down in the crease of his sketchbook’s spine and holds both against his thigh.
“You’re a beautiful creature, Tony. I want to do you justice. Which requires me to 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦.”
“You’re a beautiful creature, Tony. I want to do you justice. Which requires me to 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦.”
And Steve’s appreciated every second of it, truly. But he’s no fool. He knows Tony’s body inside and out; he knows when he’s flexing his muscles unnecessarily. 𝐍𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 pops their tricep quite so theatrically when they’re wrenching a pipe. It’s no secret that it’s all been for his viewing pleasure.
—
—
August 31, 2025 at 7:26 PM
And Steve’s appreciated every second of it, truly. But he’s no fool. He knows Tony’s body inside and out; he knows when he’s flexing his muscles unnecessarily. 𝐍𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 pops their tricep quite so theatrically when they’re wrenching a pipe. It’s no secret that it’s all been for his viewing pleasure.
—
—
— is a whole different story.
Ears still ringing from all that 𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜, Steve doesn’t bother denying the charge, “Like I said, 𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙙. Couldn’t hear myself think. Five more minutes, an’ I’d’ve been bleedin’ outta my eyeballs.”
Ears still ringing from all that 𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜, Steve doesn’t bother denying the charge, “Like I said, 𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙙. Couldn’t hear myself think. Five more minutes, an’ I’d’ve been bleedin’ outta my eyeballs.”
August 31, 2025 at 6:49 PM
— is a whole different story.
Ears still ringing from all that 𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜, Steve doesn’t bother denying the charge, “Like I said, 𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙙. Couldn’t hear myself think. Five more minutes, an’ I’d’ve been bleedin’ outta my eyeballs.”
Ears still ringing from all that 𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜, Steve doesn’t bother denying the charge, “Like I said, 𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙙. Couldn’t hear myself think. Five more minutes, an’ I’d’ve been bleedin’ outta my eyeballs.”
Though many write him off as old-fashioned, Steve’s not actually opposed to modern music. Classic rock, especially, is quite enjoyable. The 𝘵𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘨 of an electric guitar gives him goosebumps.
Tony’s usual playlist is palatable; he has no problem with it.
… Whatever was playing today, however, —
Tony’s usual playlist is palatable; he has no problem with it.
… Whatever was playing today, however, —
August 31, 2025 at 6:49 PM
Though many write him off as old-fashioned, Steve’s not actually opposed to modern music. Classic rock, especially, is quite enjoyable. The 𝘵𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘨 of an electric guitar gives him goosebumps.
Tony’s usual playlist is palatable; he has no problem with it.
… Whatever was playing today, however, —
Tony’s usual playlist is palatable; he has no problem with it.
… Whatever was playing today, however, —
— Thankfully, his precious drawing remains untouched.
“How can you work in this mess? It’s so…” He scans the rooms with a grimace, “𝙇𝙤𝙪𝙙.”
“How can you work in this mess? It’s so…” He scans the rooms with a grimace, “𝙇𝙤𝙪𝙙.”
August 31, 2025 at 6:08 PM
— Thankfully, his precious drawing remains untouched.
“How can you work in this mess? It’s so…” He scans the rooms with a grimace, “𝙇𝙤𝙪𝙙.”
“How can you work in this mess? It’s so…” He scans the rooms with a grimace, “𝙇𝙤𝙪𝙙.”
Thick and molasses-like, oil splatters diagonally across Steve’s face, over the bridge of his nose, painting freckles there. He flinches, dirty blond eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, head reeling in, a tortoise retreating into its shell; startled, but in a demure way.
—
—
August 31, 2025 at 6:08 PM
Thick and molasses-like, oil splatters diagonally across Steve’s face, over the bridge of his nose, painting freckles there. He flinches, dirty blond eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, head reeling in, a tortoise retreating into its shell; startled, but in a demure way.
—
—
— *Flustered, he laughs something strained, and allows the back of his head to thump gently against one of the taller shelves, face upturned toward a high ceiling.*
*A shop assistant wheels a squeaky cart full of discounted goods past, turning only briefly to look down the aisle at them.*
*A shop assistant wheels a squeaky cart full of discounted goods past, turning only briefly to look down the aisle at them.*
August 27, 2025 at 10:26 AM
— *Flustered, he laughs something strained, and allows the back of his head to thump gently against one of the taller shelves, face upturned toward a high ceiling.*
*A shop assistant wheels a squeaky cart full of discounted goods past, turning only briefly to look down the aisle at them.*
*A shop assistant wheels a squeaky cart full of discounted goods past, turning only briefly to look down the aisle at them.*
*Tony has 𝘶𝘯𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 control over Steve’s body. Close proximity, even without contact, has the hairs on his nape and arms standing to attention, and an icy chill trickling down his spine like a rivulet of seawater. He sucks air sharply through clenched teeth, jaw wired shut.*
—
—
August 27, 2025 at 10:25 AM
*Tony has 𝘶𝘯𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 control over Steve’s body. Close proximity, even without contact, has the hairs on his nape and arms standing to attention, and an icy chill trickling down his spine like a rivulet of seawater. He sucks air sharply through clenched teeth, jaw wired shut.*
—
—
— 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘚𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘴, grinning ear-to-ear, bashful.*
*They bump and sway, joined hands swinging between them, juvenile.*
… You might just be the sweetest treat there ever was.
*They bump and sway, joined hands swinging between them, juvenile.*
… You might just be the sweetest treat there ever was.
August 26, 2025 at 11:22 PM
— 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘚𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘴, grinning ear-to-ear, bashful.*
*They bump and sway, joined hands swinging between them, juvenile.*
… You might just be the sweetest treat there ever was.
*They bump and sway, joined hands swinging between them, juvenile.*
… You might just be the sweetest treat there ever was.
*At the mouth of the aisle, feeling adventurous, contrary to what his blush may suggest, a little less concerned about how they’re perceived now that he’s confident they aren’t being observed, Steve gives in to his urge to crowd Tony’s space. He backs him past a row of 𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘴 and —
August 26, 2025 at 11:22 PM
*At the mouth of the aisle, feeling adventurous, contrary to what his blush may suggest, a little less concerned about how they’re perceived now that he’s confident they aren’t being observed, Steve gives in to his urge to crowd Tony’s space. He backs him past a row of 𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘴 and —
You think I believe a word of it?
August 26, 2025 at 9:49 PM
You think I believe a word of it?
… What’re you doing here, Loki?
August 26, 2025 at 9:38 PM
… What’re you doing here, Loki?
Well, 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 keep your hands where I can see ‘em.
August 26, 2025 at 9:35 PM
Well, 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 keep your hands where I can see ‘em.
*That worries him. It’s no secret that Tony has an absurdly 𝘯𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘺 side. He dreads to think what he’d suggest, if Steve weren’t such a stickler for the rules, social and legal.*
We don’t need to find out. I’m not comin’ to your rescue if you get arrested for public indecency.
We don’t need to find out. I’m not comin’ to your rescue if you get arrested for public indecency.
August 26, 2025 at 9:32 PM
*That worries him. It’s no secret that Tony has an absurdly 𝘯𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘺 side. He dreads to think what he’d suggest, if Steve weren’t such a stickler for the rules, social and legal.*
We don’t need to find out. I’m not comin’ to your rescue if you get arrested for public indecency.
We don’t need to find out. I’m not comin’ to your rescue if you get arrested for public indecency.
Didn’t know you were capable.
August 26, 2025 at 9:19 PM
Didn’t know you were capable.
*A comment that earns him a wide-eyed glare.*
𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐲! 𝘑𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘴. Keep it down.
*Cheeks burn red.*
Can’t take you anywhere. 𝙂𝙤𝙙. Behave yourself.
*Walks backward, on the lookout for eavesdroppers, hyper-aware despite the store being completely empty.*
𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐲! 𝘑𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘴. Keep it down.
*Cheeks burn red.*
Can’t take you anywhere. 𝙂𝙤𝙙. Behave yourself.
*Walks backward, on the lookout for eavesdroppers, hyper-aware despite the store being completely empty.*
August 26, 2025 at 9:02 PM
*A comment that earns him a wide-eyed glare.*
𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐲! 𝘑𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘴. Keep it down.
*Cheeks burn red.*
Can’t take you anywhere. 𝙂𝙤𝙙. Behave yourself.
*Walks backward, on the lookout for eavesdroppers, hyper-aware despite the store being completely empty.*
𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐲! 𝘑𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘴. Keep it down.
*Cheeks burn red.*
Can’t take you anywhere. 𝙂𝙤𝙙. Behave yourself.
*Walks backward, on the lookout for eavesdroppers, hyper-aware despite the store being completely empty.*
*Automatic doors slide apart, into an air-conditioned interior. Muggy weather and open refrigerators create an atmospheric threshold that Steve and Tony cross hand in hand.*
*Head on a swivel, he looks left and right.*
Donut holes, donut holes, donut holes—
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢-𝘸𝘢𝘺.
*Head on a swivel, he looks left and right.*
Donut holes, donut holes, donut holes—
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢-𝘸𝘢𝘺.
August 26, 2025 at 8:32 PM
*Automatic doors slide apart, into an air-conditioned interior. Muggy weather and open refrigerators create an atmospheric threshold that Steve and Tony cross hand in hand.*
*Head on a swivel, he looks left and right.*
Donut holes, donut holes, donut holes—
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢-𝘸𝘢𝘺.
*Head on a swivel, he looks left and right.*
Donut holes, donut holes, donut holes—
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢-𝘸𝘢𝘺.
*Makes sense. Grocery shopping, if not done online, is Steve’s chore anyway. Nothing’s really changed, with the exception of a thrill-seeking tag-along.*
*Scooting off the bike,* Yeah, yeah. I know the score. Don’t think you’d find the eggs if they were starin’ you in the face.
*Scooting off the bike,* Yeah, yeah. I know the score. Don’t think you’d find the eggs if they were starin’ you in the face.
August 26, 2025 at 8:08 PM
*Makes sense. Grocery shopping, if not done online, is Steve’s chore anyway. Nothing’s really changed, with the exception of a thrill-seeking tag-along.*
*Scooting off the bike,* Yeah, yeah. I know the score. Don’t think you’d find the eggs if they were starin’ you in the face.
*Scooting off the bike,* Yeah, yeah. I know the score. Don’t think you’d find the eggs if they were starin’ you in the face.