#Iron Man reader insert

[animealways]

tony and his child

tony: i recently found out mickey mouse has a kid

y/n with a major voice crack: wHaT?!

tony: you didn't know this?

y/n: nO!

tony: wait i need to look up the name as well its so funny

y/n: oH mAh gAd this is just as bad when i found out hello kitty has a boyfriend

tony now with a major voice crack: hElLo KiTtY hAs A bOyFrIeNd?!?

y/n: hello kitty has a boyfriend!

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

most people

Tony Stark x F!Reader

Prompt: “i can't believe you don't like hugs."

Summary: you come home to the tower to hear that your teammate tony has been awake for days. you take it upon yourself to get to complete some much-needed self-care.

Warnings: fluff.

Word Count: 1,741

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The door sounded with a quiet, welcoming ding as the elevator arrived on your floor, the lights of your suite already on and pleasantly dimmed to accommodate to the tenderness of your eyes this late at night. It was a little before three in the morning, and while your flight had had no major issues and the traffic between the airport and Avengers Tower had been blessedly in your favor, it was still agonizing to be getting home so late.

Home.

It still surprised you how quickly you’d come to think of this place as more than just a place to sleep, more than what had originally felt like a ridiculously over-sized hotel room. It had been only six months since Loki’s attack on New York, and while the renovations to the Tower were not yet finished, your suite had been one of the first floors to be completed. And now it somehow felt far more familiar to you than any of the countless beds you had claimed over the last twenty-seven years.

“Welcome back, Ms. Y/L/N,” the cool, friendly voice of Tony’s personal assistant sounded from the invisible speakers above you. “I trust your journey was pleasant.”

“It was, for a nine-hour flight in a broken seat,” you replied with a sigh, stretching out the lingering kink in your lower back. You set your suitcase down by the elevator doors. “And how many times do I have to tell you; it’s just Y/N.”

“I’m sure only once more,” he replied. “As always.”

You chuckled, a small, tired smile lingering on your lips. “Are the others here?”

“Only Mr. Stark is in residence at the moment,” the A.I. informed you as you made your way further into your suite. You toed off your shoes, shedding your jacket and tossing it onto the nearby sofa. “Shall I inform him of your arrival?”

“Oh, no, I don’t want to wake him.”

There was a slight pause. “Mr. Stark is not asleep, Ms. Y/L/N.”

How an A.I. could have a variation in tone, you weren’t sure, but you stopped halfway to unbuttoning your jeans. “And how long exactly has Tony been awake?”

“…Almost eighty-three hours, ma’am.”

“I think I hate ‘ma’am’ even more than my last name.” you sighed, casting a glance towards the room to your left. The door was ajar, and you swore your bed was calling to you. “Where is he?”

“In the lab.”

“…Okay.”

***

A wall of sound greeted you as you stepped into the lab, and you flinched. It lowered immediately to a more bearable level, and you silently praised whatever part of JARVIS’ programming it was that could pick up on your discomfort like that.

“JARVIS,” Tony said without looking up from his work. “Don’t mess with my music.”

He was at the far end of the lab, moving between a couple of workbenches and the hologram of his latest designs with the disorganized, staccato rhythm you had begun to recognize as being a sign of sleep deprivation. There was a half-empty coffee pot on the bench closest to you, the scent of it gone stale. Tony’s clothes were rumpled, as was his hair, and you frowned when you noticed the shadows under his eyes. They were made darker by the blue light of the hologram between the two of you.

“I think we can do better on these reflector panels, J.,” he continued as though he hadn’t noticed you enter. “If this suit is going to work for stealth, I’m going to need the change to be instantaneous.” He waved a hand, and parts of the suit projected in front of him dropped away. “Scrap ‘em. Take it from the top.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hello to you, too, Stark.” you said snidely despite your concern. “Or am I expected to call you ‘sir’ in here, too?”

“Only if you want me to get all tingly over it,” he retorted teasingly, finally pausing long enough to meet your eye. He gave you a genuine, if distracted and exhausted, smile.

“Most people just say ‘welcome home’.”

Tony returned to one of the benches, eyes fixating on a tablet screen. “Are you implying that I could possibly be ‘most people’?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied, sidestepping an abandoned helmet prototype. There was an empty coffee mug sitting inside it. The crockery was stained with dark brown rings. You made you way around to his workbench, pushing yourself up to sit on the edge of it beside him. “Tony, when was the last time you got some sleep?”

“You know the answer to that,” he said, pointedly avoiding your eye and focusing his gaze on the work in front of him. “Or did you come all the way down here just for a hug?”

“A hug? Hardly,” you said with a scoff.

Tony met your eye, raising a brow. There was a teasing tilt to his lips, a challenge in his expression. “I don’t accept that.”

“Accept what?”

“I can’t believe that you don’t like hugs.” he said, straightening. He moved to stand in front of you, his hands claiming your knees. You felt a warmth spread up from where he touched you to heat your belly, and you straightened slightly, wetting your lips with the tip of your tongue. “I refuse to accept it. I mean, for a woman completely capable of breaking every bone in my body with her bare hands, you’re downright cuddly.”

As he said the last words he reached up and touched the tip of his finger to your nose tauntingly, and you wrinkled it in response. He chuckled, and you rolled your eyes at him. Something about sleep deprivation always made him lighter, more teasing. While his usual jokes were witty and occasionally flirty, when you found him like this, he was… softer. “Has anyone ever told you that you are a massive dork?”

Tony’s grin widened, and he stepped back, holding up his hands as though you’d just proved his point. “See, anyone else would call me an asshole, but you – sweet, innocent thing that you are – go with ‘dork’.”

“Oh, Stark. Trust me,” you snickered, pushing yourself up off the edge of the table. It closed much of the distance between the two of you, your chest almost meeting his. You made a show of casting your eyes down over him before meeting his eye with a smirk. “If you actually knew me, the last word you’d be using to describe me is ‘innocent’.”

Intrigue flashed in his eyes, a curve to his parted lips sending an unexpected thrill up your spine. He made move to speak, but you pressed a finger to his lips. His smile widened against your skin.

“I’m sure whatever you were about to say would have been rife with innuendo, Tony,” you said. “But honestly, you kind of stink. How long’s it been since you had a shower?”

***

“Y’know, I’m not really sure why I had to stick around for this.” you called out over the sound of rushing water, folding your arms over your chest. You were standing outside the penthouse bathroom, your back against the wall beside the door. Steam billowed out of the open doorway, clinging to your bare arms.

The water shut off, and Tony’s reply came a few moments later, his voice echoing off the tile. “And here I thought you were worried about my wellbeing, sweetheart.”

“You’re not exactly at risk of drowning in the shower, Tony,” you pointed out. You heard his answering chuckle and the sounds of cabinet doors opening and closing. There was a long silence, punctuated only by the quiet sounds of shaving cream being sprayed and a razor against skin. “And you survived it. So, can I go to bed now?”

“And miss out on this quality team-bonding time?” he called out. “Shudder to think.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes with a smile. “‘Team-bonding’? We’re missing a couple of key members here. Unless you’ve got Rogers stashed in your shower caddy.”

“Not exactly the member I’d pick for that,” he replied as he stepped through the doorway, wiping at his jaw with a towel. Another was slung securely around his hips. Rivulets of water marked his bare torso, droplets clinging to his chest. There was a teasing smirk on his lips, and you swallowed. “Now, Romanoff on the other hand—”

“I’m going to stop you there before this conversation devolves into casual misogyny,” you eye-rolled, holding up a hand.

“I’ll have you know I’m an equal opportunity lech.” Tony shot back, amused. “I just didn’t think Thor would fit in the caddy.”

You snorted a laugh.

“Right…” you said. He’d missed a tiny patch of shaving cream on the corner of his jaw, and you reached up to wipe it away with two fingers. Tony’s smile widened as you wiped it on his bare chest. You cleared your throat as you realized the intimacy of your actions. “Well, you’ve managed to navigate the perils of a penthouse bathroom, Iron Man. Congrats.”

“So, what’s your excuse now?”

Confusion creased the skin between your brows. “For what?”

Tony’s smirk twitched, and you recognized the challenge in his eyes. Something in the pit of your stomach fluttered. “For turning down a hug.”

You laughed, shaking your head disbelieving. “God, Stark, you are such a—”

Tony took hold of your arm, surprising you by pulling you toward him and bringing his lips to yours. They were soft and warm, teasing with the taste of spearmint. The clean scent of his body wash enveloped you, his fingers gentle but firm on your arm. The warmth of his body – still bolstered by the heat of the shower – leached into your skin, wrapping you in a ghost of an embrace that made you lean into him. The kiss lasted only a moment before he pulled back again, that expression of taunting flirtation still in place.

You pressed your lips together, your skin tingling. “What was that for?”

He shrugged a shoulder, tightening the towel around his waist. There was an annoying note of nonchalance in his expression, and self-assuredness that told you he knew exactly what kind of effect he’d just had on you. “Call it a thank you.”

“I—” you swallowed, forcing your breath to steady. “Most people just say ‘thank you’.”

He grinned, his teeth grazing his bottom lip. “Didn’t we agree that I’m not ‘most people’?”

.

.

.

tags: @trekkingaroundasgard @ccbsrms @lina-mar@lovely-dreamer19@wittyforachange@wefracturedmotivation@january-echoes@glossyloner@capitalnineteen@youclickedthislink@s0ftness@castieltrash1@drakelover78@queenoftheunderdark@fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13@lol-you-thought@sebbystanlover-vk@mikariell95@csigeoblue@abrunettefangirlnerd@babyblues915@aar-journey@moistpotatobear @capsironunderoos @bellamyblakemorley@diesinspanishbcimhispanic@sentimentalalien@agustdowney@akumune@xxboesefrauxx@patheticallysentimental@loki-is-loved

[cece693]

Affectionate

pairing: bucky barnes x male reader tags: bucky being treated like a normal being, male reader is very affectionate, kinda like tony, flirting like lil puppies

“Barnes, my sweet metal-armed dumpling, you’ve got bedhead.”

You say it with a chuckle as you effortlessly drape an arm around Bucky’s broad shoulders, and for a moment, the entire room goes silent. Natasha’s trained eyes narrow from across the conference table, ready to spring into action. Tony’s eyebrows shoot up behind his tinted glasses, and Steve actually tenses, fists tightening like he’s expecting Bucky to toss you across the room at any second. All around, the team braces themselves, anticipating a meltdown—a flashback—anything resembling the Winter Soldier they still fear might be lingering inside the man you have so casually slung your arm over.

In the resulting quiet, Bucky’s expression flickers, and for a heartbeat, you wonder if the Avengers might be right. His jaw flexes, and his fingers curl slightly before unclenching.

Then he lets out a small huff of a laugh, the corners of his lips lifting, and you feel his posture relax against your side. “Seriously, you’re making a scene,” he murmurs, quieter than usual. But there’s absolutely no bite behind his voice, no threat—just the husky edge that always manages to send a pleasant shiver through you. “Knock it off,” he adds, though there’s a ghost of a smile there.

Knock it off? Absolutely not. The man is gorgeous—dark hair still damp from a shower, the mechanical arm catching the overhead lights, his face etched with haunted lines that only make him look even more rugged and unfairly attractive. How can you possibly resist? You’re only human (albeit an Avenger-human with a penchant for tackling alien invasions and Hydra remnants). But still, you have eyes.

You just grin, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze before loosening your hold. “Aww, Barnes, you know you’d miss it if I did.”

Bucky grumbles something in reply, but there’s a lightness there, an ease he didn’t carry before. The rest of the team, however, remains on full alert—like big cats itching to pounce. Steve in particular looks about two seconds away from physically peeling you off of Bucky. Even Clint, who was half-dozing in the corner, sits up, eyes keen.

“Cap,” Clint warns softly, nodding toward where your hand is still lingering near Bucky’s nape, fingertips idly tracing the spot where flesh meets vibranium plating.

Steve clears his throat. “Everything okay there, Buck?”

Everyone seems to hold their breath again, and you can practically see the tension in the air. Poor Bruce is looking uncertain, Wanda is biting her lip, and Sam’s eyebrows are drawn together in concern. They’re so worried that Bucky’s going to have an episode, or get triggered, or that he’s going to accidentally crush your bones with that metal fist if you keep…well, doing what you’re doing.

And if this were two years ago, maybe they’d be right. If this were weeks after his deprogramming, back when he couldn’t even look into a mirror without disassociating, Bucky might’ve pushed you across the room with lethal force. Or at the very least, wrenched free of your hold, stiff and wary. But they don’t see the subtle signs that you do: the tension in Bucky’s shoulders is not the tension of danger, but of mild embarrassment. He looks shy, maybe even flustered. He’s definitely not displeased. And if anything, you know he’s grateful you treat him like a normal person, not a ticking time bomb with horrifying memories.

He shrugs off Steve’s concern with a tight-lipped smirk. “I’m fine,” he says. “I’m not made of glass.”

Or vibranium, you add silently with another playful grin. You resist the urge to poke at his arm, but your fingers twitch at the thought. Next time, you promise yourself.

Tony slides a diagnostic tablet across the table as if presenting evidence. “Look, I’m all for affection, but maybe, for the sake of our dear ex-Hydra assassin’s comfort, we keep it PG-13 in the debrief?” He’s half-joking, half-serious, eyebrows shooting up when you lean closer to Bucky again.

You tilt your head at Tony. “I’m not exactly straddling him on the table, Tony. Chill.”

“Just you watch,” Sam mutters under his breath, arms folded across his chest, likely recalling a previous incident in which your casual affection got a bit…handsy. Hey, you can’t help it, Bucky’s arms are a national treasure.

From beside you, Bucky sighs. “Seriously, guys, it’s okay. This—” he flicks his eyes at the point where your forearm slides across his back “—it’s nice.” He lowers his gaze, almost bashful, but admits quietly, “Makes me feel like…y’know. Like I’m—”

“A normal dude, living a normal life,” you finish for him, your voice softer. It’s what both of you want, though neither of you outright says so in crowded company.

“Alright,” Tony relents with a theatrical sigh. “I mean, if Barnes is okay with it, I guess we can let it go.”

“Seriously, Tony,” you huff, “I’m not some savage about to devour the man.”

Bucky sends you a cheeky side glance. “Could’ve fooled me,” he grumbles, but his lips twist into an amused smirk.

“Watch it, metal dumpling,” you shoot back fondly, the new (and very ridiculous) nickname making Tony gag in mock horror.

There’s a collective groan and roll of eyes from the team, but underneath that, there’s this subtle wave of contentment. You can feel it in the air—everyone’s settling into this new normal. Sure, Bucky carries a lot of ghosts and trauma, but right now, with your arm around him, he just feels alive. Connected. Like the piece of him that’s still James Barnes is being coaxed to the surface.

And you? Well, you’re just happy to be the one to coax it out of him. Bucky might be Hydra’s ex-assassin, but you can’t help it—he’s also hot as hell, and you’re pretty sure your vision works just fine, thank you very much.

“Alright,” Steve says, clearing his throat again, a slight pink tinge on his cheeks from secondhand embarrassment. “So…mission debrief?”

“Mission debrief,” you echo. Without missing a beat, you re-sling your arm across Bucky’s shoulders, ignoring the universal eye-roll from the rest of the team. Bucky doesn’t shove you away. He doesn’t tense. He just gives your knee a quick pat under the table, and for a single, quiet second in that big conference room, you can swear you feel a little more at home.

And yeah—maybe you’ll have to tone it down for the sake of collective sanity. But then again, the look in Bucky’s eyes says he needs this just as much as you do.

So if anyone’s got a problem with it, well…they can take it up with the ex-Winter Soldier himself—and hope they can handle the glare he’ll give them for standing in the way of his self-proclaimed “annoying but sweet” Avenger.

[mintyys-blog]

BRAT TAMER— dark! bucky barnes x brat! stark! reader

WARNINGS: alcohol, suggestive scenes, age gap, power imbalance, brat behaviour, dark themes, tramp stamp, harassment, swearing, SMUT.

MINORS DNI

You knew exactly what you were doing.

The moment you stepped into the Avengers Tower, heels clicking against the pristine marble floors, every pair of eyes flicked to you. Not that you cared. In fact, you reveled in it. The attention. The annoyance. The way your father, Tony Stark, ran a hand down his face the second he saw your outfit—if it could even be called that.

A tiny crop top, barely-there shorts, and heels that made your legs look like they went on forever.

“Jesus Christ,” Tony muttered under his breath.

You smirked, flicking your hair over your shoulder as you waltzed past him like you owned the place. “Daddy, that’s not a very warm welcome,” you pouted. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

Tony exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. “Do you ever dress appropriately? Just once?”

You scoffed. “What’s the fun in that?”

Truthfully, you liked pushing his buttons. You’d been doing it for years, and it never got old. Tony Stark, billionaire genius, could handle aliens, mad scientists, and world-ending threats—but his own daughter? A nightmare in designer heels.

“Where’s Morgan?” you asked, though you didn’t really care.

“In her room. And don’t—”

Too late. You were already walking in that direction.

Tony sighed, shooting a look at Steve and Bucky, who had been watching the interaction silently. “I don’t know what to do with her.”

Bucky’s stare lingered as you disappeared down the hallway. You had that effect on people—especially men. And you knew it.

Morgan adored you.

Which was the problem.

She was ten, all wide eyes and admiration, soaking up every little thing you did like a sponge. And Tony? He hated it.

You sat on her bed, lazily scrolling through your phone as she rattled on about school, her friends, some dumb science project Tony was helping her with. You weren’t really listening.

“Can I do my hair like yours?” Morgan asked suddenly, eyes shining with hope.

You smirked. “You wanna be like me, huh?”

She nodded enthusiastically.

Tony’s voice cut through the room like a blade. “No, she doesn’t.”

You looked up to find him standing in the doorway, arms crossed. “Morgan, go get ready for dinner,” he said firmly.

Morgan hesitated, looking between the two of you before reluctantly nodding and slipping out of the room.

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? That’s the influence you don’t want?”

Tony stepped inside, lowering his voice. “I mean it, Y/N. She looks up to you. I won’t let you screw her up.”

You rolled your eyes. “Relax, Dad. I’m not telling her to go rob a bank.”

“No, but you are showing up dressed like that,” he shot back. “Parading around like you have no responsibilities, blowing through money like it’s endless—”

“Isn’t it?” you cut in, smirking.

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus, kid. I don’t know what to do with you.”

“Nothing,” you said simply, standing up and stretching, the hem of your top riding up just to be provocative. “Because I don’t live under your roof anymore, remember?”

You walked past him, brushing against his shoulder as you left.

And just like that, you were gone.

Later that night, Bucky found you at the bar.

You were perched on a stool, sipping a martini, legs crossed, eyes scanning the room like a predator looking for prey.

He slid onto the stool beside you, silent at first. You noticed him, of course. How could you not? He was hard to ignore—tall, broad, that metal arm glinting under the dim lights.

“Well, well,” you mused, tilting your head. “Didn’t take you for a bar kind of guy.”

Bucky shrugged, eyes flickering over your outfit. “Didn’t take you for the kind of girl who needs attention to survive.”

You grinned. “Oh, but I do. What’s life without a little fun?”

“Fun,” Bucky repeated, tone unreadable. “That what you’re looking for?”

You leaned in slightly, resting your elbow on the bar, chin propped in your hand. “Depends. You offering?”

His jaw tensed. You were pushing. Flirting. Teasing. And you knew it was working.

“You think this is a game?” he asked, voice low.

You smirked. “Isn’t it?”

Bucky exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “Careful, sweetheart.”

You arched a brow. “Or what?”

He didn’t answer. Just took a sip of his drink, eyes lingering on you.

Breaking the Brat

Part Two

Pairing: Dark!Bucky Barnes x Stark!Brat!Reader

Warnings: Dark themes, age gap, manipulation, power imbalance, bratty behavior, suggestive themes. Slow burn.

Bucky didn’t play your game.

That was the first thing that set him apart from the others.

Most men—especially the older ones—were predictable. Easy to manipulate. A bat of your lashes, a sultry smile, a teasing touch, and they’d trip over themselves to get what you wanted.

But Bucky? He saw right through it.

And that? That made you want to play even more.

“Not much of a talker, huh?” You leaned in, close enough that your perfume lingered between you. “That’s okay. I like a challenge.”

Bucky glanced at you, unimpressed. “You really think you’re a challenge?”

You pouted. “Aw, that’s cute. You think I’m easy?”

He huffed out a quiet laugh. “I think you’re loud. And desperate for attention.”

Your smirk didn’t falter. “And yet, here you are, giving it to me.”

Bucky didn’t answer. He just took another sip of his drink, jaw tight.

That’s what intrigued you the most.

He wanted to say something. Wanted to snap, to put you in your place. You could see it in his eyes. The restraint. The discipline. It was a game of tug-of-war, and you were determined to win.

“So, tell me,” you mused, twirling the olive in your martini between your fingers. “What does a guy like you do for fun?”

Bucky didn’t blink. “Nothing you’d survive.”

A thrill shot through you.

“You don’t know what I can handle,” you said, licking the martini off your lips.

His gaze flickered there, just for a second. A small victory.

Then, he downed the rest of his drink and stood.

“Go home, kid.”

Kid.

The word sent a rush of irritation through you.

You weren’t a kid. You were a woman. A woman who could make grown men fall at her feet. A woman who could ruin a man if she wanted to.

And yet, Bucky Barnes just brushed you off like an inconvenience.

How dare he?

You watched him walk away, the muscles in his back flexing under his shirt. He didn’t turn around. Didn’t give you the satisfaction.

For the first time in a long time, you felt something foreign settle in your chest.

Frustration.

The next few weeks were fun.

For you, anyway.

You pushed. Bucky ignored. You flirted. He scoffed. You touched, teased, invaded his space—nothing.

He was a wall. Unshakable. Unmoved.

It only made you worse.

You made sure to wear the shortest skirts when you knew he was around. The highest heels. The tightest tops. You batted your lashes, brushed your fingers against his arm, pressed close to whisper things that weren’t exactly appropriate.

Still, nothing.

But you weren’t an amateur at this game.

Men had limits. And you were going to find his.

Tony had given up on you. Or at least, that’s what it felt like.

“Y/N, I swear to God,” he groaned, rubbing his temples as you scrolled through your phone.

“What now?” You didn’t bother looking up.

“You know exactly what. Do I need to spell it out? The credit card charges. The tabloids. The—” He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “The fucking tramp stamp!”

You smirked, tilting your head. “You like it?”

Tony clenched his jaw. “You got it two hours after I told you not to.”

“Your point?”

He muttered something under his breath before shaking his head. “I don’t know what to do with you, kid.”

Your smirk faltered. There it was again. Kid. First Bucky, now Tony. You weren’t a child.

And you were going to prove it.

That night, you went too far.

And that’s exactly what you wanted.

The compound was quiet. Late. Most of the team had turned in for the night, but you knew Bucky was still awake.

You found him in the gym. Alone.

He was mid-rep, lifting weights that made your arms ache just looking at them.

You leaned against the doorway, watching, a slow smirk tugging at your lips.

“Wow,” you drawled. “Those arms could do some damage.”

Bucky didn’t stop. Didn’t acknowledge you.

You stepped inside, the sound of your heels clicking against the floor.

Nothing.

You let out a dramatic sigh, strutting over to where he stood. “Ignoring me again? Starting to think you don’t like me, Barnes.”

He finished his set, setting the weights down with a quiet thud.

Still, he didn’t look at you.

You stepped closer, trailing a manicured nail down his metal arm. “I bet you could wrap this around my throat and snap it like a twig.”

That got him. Bucky’s head snapped toward you, eyes dark.

Oh, that was satisfying.

“You wanna test that theory?” His voice was low. Dangerous. A shiver ran through you. You weren’t stupid. You knew when you were poking a bear. But that was half the fun.

“I dunno,” you mused, pressing closer. “Might be fun.”

Bucky exhaled slowly. You could practically see him forcing himself to relax.

Then, he turned and walked away. Just like that. No reaction. No anger. No fire.

It was… disappointing. Until he spoke.

“You should be careful, Y/N.” You frowned. “Of what?”

Bucky stopped at the door, back still to you. “Of what happens when I finally stop holding back.” Then, he was gone.

You stood there for a long moment, staring after him. And for the first time, your smirk faded. Because for the first time, you wondered… Had you finally pushed too far?

It had been a week since Bucky’s warning. A week of silence.

You were used to attention—hell, you craved it—but this was different. The absence of Bucky’s usual snarky responses, his cold stares, his barely-contained tension—it was unsettling. You found yourself looking for him more than you cared to admit. You’d cornered Tony about it. “Where’s Bucky? He’s been MIA.”

Tony didn’t even look up from his work. “I don’t know. Probably avoiding you.”

“Really?” you asked, leaning against the counter. “You think so?”

Tony finally glanced up, his eyes tired but sharp. “Look, kid. I get it. He’s a good guy, but I’m not letting you run around playing your little games with him. Bucky’s not your usual prey.”

You scowled, crossing your arms. “I’m not a damn animal, Dad.” Tony didn’t flinch. “You sure about that?”

Two nights later, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

The Tower was dark, quiet—everyone else was either gone or asleep. You knew Bucky would be up, alone, in the gym. He was predictable like that.

You stood in front of your mirror, inspecting yourself.

A tight black leather jacket, a low-cut tank top that barely covered your chest, and black ripped jeans. Nothing too out there, but enough to make a statement.

Perfect.

You made your way down the long hallway, heels tapping softly on the floors, feeling the familiar rush of power as you approached the gym.

And there he was.

Bucky was lifting weights, his movements precise and fluid, his concentration unwavering. He hadn’t noticed you yet, so you took the chance to observe.

He was different tonight. His body was tense, his jaw set as he worked through each set like a machine. But it was more than that. There was something in his eyes—something predatory.

And it made you want to push him.

You sauntered into the room, your presence noticeable, but Bucky didn’t look up. He kept going, each lift smoother than the last, each breath steady and controlled.

It was like you weren’t even there.

You didn’t like that.

“Why so serious?” you purred, stepping closer, your voice dripping with a flirtation you didn’t bother to hide.

Bucky paused for a moment, finally glancing at you. But he didn’t respond.

You took it as a challenge.

“You know,” you continued, sliding your hands down your sides provocatively, “if you need some motivation, I could give you a reason to work a little harder.”

Bucky didn’t move. He just stared at you, his gaze unreadable.

“Come on, Barnes,” you cooed, moving closer, your breath warm against the cool air of the gym. “What’s it going to take to get a rise out of you?”

This time, he spoke. His voice was low and measured, like a warning. “You’re treading on thin ice, Y/N.”

You smirked. “I like the danger.”

Bucky finally set the weights down, his movements slow but purposeful. He stepped toward you, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t quite place—anger? Frustration? Or something more?

“Last warning, kid,” he muttered, grabbing your wrist before you could react, his grip firm but controlled.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned in closer, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “What are you going to do if I don’t listen, huh? Hit me?”

He didn’t answer right away. His breathing was steady, but you could feel the tension in his body. It was palpable, like a string pulled tight, waiting to snap.

“I warned you,” Bucky growled, voice gravelly.

Before you could respond, he spun you around, pinning you against the wall with a force that made your breath catch.

And there it was—the raw, unfiltered power.

You knew you were pushing him, but this time, you didn’t care.

“You’re playing with fire, Y/N,” he said, his voice soft, but laced with a dangerous edge. “And I don’t think you fully understand the consequences.”

You couldn’t help yourself. “Try me.”

Bucky leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “You won’t like the outcome.”

But you weren’t listening. You never were.

You let your fingers trail down his chest, teasing the edges of his shirt, pressing yourself closer to him. “You can’t tell me what to do,” you said softly, letting the challenge hang between you like a spark waiting to ignite.

His hand tightened on your wrist, pulling you away from the wall and turning you to face him fully. His blue eyes were dark, unreadable, like an ocean storm waiting to break.

“You think I’m just going to let you walk all over me?” His voice dropped an octave, as if he were tasting every word. “That’s where you’re wrong, Y/N.”

You swallowed, feeling the heat rising between you, the crackling tension unmistakable. For the first time, you saw something in his eyes that made your heart skip—a flicker of something dangerous. And it made you want more.

“You think you can handle me?” you whispered, your lips inches from his. Without warning, Bucky kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft. It was fierce—passionate, like he was claiming what was his. And you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t.

He pulled back just enough to catch his breath, but the fire in his gaze only intensified. “You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he warned, his voice dark with intent.

You stared at him, a smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe I do.”

Bucky’s lips twitched. “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart. And when you get burned, don’t come crying to me.” You shrugged, unfazed. “I’ll take my chances.”

The next morning, you barely slept.

Every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was Bucky’s cold, intense stare—the way his hand had felt on your wrist, the heat of his lips against yours.

It wasn’t the first time you’d kissed someone with that much force, but it was the first time you felt… controlled.

And you hated it.

You didn’t like being controlled. You liked to be in charge. Always.

So why did the feeling linger? Why did the thought of Bucky’s hands on you—firm, unrelenting—cause a flutter in your chest?

You shook the thought away, brushing your hair back as you stood in front of the mirror. It was just a kiss. Just a moment. You didn’t need to make it anything more.

You picked out an outfit: a tight red dress with a plunging neckline, heels high enough to make your legs look longer than they were. You liked the way the dress clung to your curves, the way it accentuated everything Bucky had noticed last night.

This was a power play. A challenge. And Bucky? He was your target. You stormed out of your room, determined to confront him.

The gym was quiet again when you entered, the hum of the equipment filling the silence. You saw Bucky, of course. He was always here, always training, always keeping to himself. But today, he didn’t look at you when you walked in.

Not at first.

You could feel the tension radiating off him, though. He could feel you, even without looking. The game hadn’t ended last night—it had only just begun.

You walked toward him, a calculated sway in your hips. You made sure to stop just behind him, letting the scent of your perfume reach his nose, just close enough that he couldn’t ignore your presence any longer.

“Morning, Bucky,” you said, leaning over slightly, letting the fabric of your dress stretch just enough to make him notice.

He stopped mid-set, his fingers wrapping around the barbell before he set it down. Slowly, deliberately, he turned to face you. His gaze was icy, but there was something more there now—a flicker of something darker. Something that told you he wasn’t as indifferent as he wanted to be.

“What do you want?” His voice was low, but there was an edge to it.

You grinned, stepping closer. “I thought we could talk.”

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow. “About what?”

You smirked, leaning in a little closer, lowering your voice to a whisper. “About last night.”

His jaw clenched. “I told you, Y/N—”

“You told me a lot of things.” You interrupted, placing a hand on his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt. “But you didn’t tell me you’d be so rough. So… possessive.”

He grabbed your wrist before you could pull away, his grip firm but not painful. “You’re pushing it,” he warned, his tone deadly serious now.

“Am I?” You tilted your head, pretending to be innocent, but you saw the way his eyes flashed, the tension in his body that told you he was on the edge. “I think you like it, Bucky. I think you like the challenge.”

Bucky took a deep breath, his hold on your wrist tightening slightly. He didn’t let go, not yet. “Don’t make me do something you’ll regret.”

A small laugh escaped your lips. “Oh, Bucky,” you teased, tracing your fingers down his chest slowly, “I don’t think I’m going to regret anything.”

This time, when you looked up at him, there was no teasing in your gaze. There was only a challenge. A dare.

Bucky looked at you for a long moment, his chest rising and falling with each breath, like he was trying to calm himself. Then, slowly, he released your wrist.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he muttered. “And I don’t think you realize just how dangerous it is.”

You stepped back, keeping your eyes on him. “I can handle danger.”

Bucky stared at you, and for a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes—something dark, something possessive, something that made your heart race.

But then it was gone, replaced by the cold mask he usually wore.

“Keep pushing, Y/N,” he said, his voice low, his tone deadly serious. “And I’ll make sure you regret it.”

You smiled sweetly, tilting your head. “I’m counting on it.”

The next few days were a blur.

Bucky was everywhere you went. He was there when you went to the gym, there when you walked past the training room, there when you entered the kitchen. He wasn’t exactly following you, but he was always within your sight. Always within your reach.

And it drove you crazy.

You didn’t get what it was. You didn’t get why he was always near, always present. He wasn’t ignoring you anymore, but he wasn’t giving you the satisfaction either. He was… patient.

And that was something you weren’t used to.

You tried everything. You wore the sexiest outfits. You made flirtatious comments. You pushed every button you knew would make him snap.

But Bucky just watched you. Always watchful. Always calm.

The lack of reaction was maddening.

But it was that last night—when you were so tired of being ignored—that you decided to confront him. You were done waiting.

The Tower was empty again, except for you and Bucky. You knew he’d be in the gym again—he always was.

When you walked in, you didn’t say a word. You just walked up to him, grabbed his collar, and kissed him.

It was desperate. It was messy.

It was exactly what you wanted.

Bucky froze for a moment, not expecting it, but when he didn’t pull away, when he kissed you back with an intensity that sent shockwaves through your body, you realized—maybe this time, you weren’t the one in control.

Bucky’s hands gripped your arms, but he didn’t pull you away. Instead, he deepened the kiss, his lips moving with more force than you were used to, his hands now roaming, pulling you closer.

When he pulled away, his eyes were dark, and his voice was low, husky. “I warned you, Y/N.”

You smirked, feeling a rush of power. “Yeah, well, I don’t listen.”

Bucky’s lips twitched into a small smile, but there was no humor in it. “You will. Eventually.”

Breaking the Brat

Part Six

Pairing: Dark!Bucky Barnes x Stark!Brat!Reader

Warnings: Dark themes, age gap, manipulation, power imbalance, bratty behavior, suggestive themes. Slow burn.

The days following that night felt like a tightrope walk—one wrong move, and you would fall. But there was something intoxicating about it. Bucky had made it clear he was done tolerating your behavior, but the power dynamic between you both had shifted. There was no going back, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to.

Bucky didn’t let things slide, though. You could feel his presence everywhere you went, like a constant reminder of your recklessness. His eyes followed you. The way he looked at you, all sharp edges and unspoken threats, had you on edge in ways you never imagined.

The next time you saw him, you weren’t sure how things would play out. It was a casual party at Tony’s mansion, the kind of event that usually left you feeling invincible. But tonight, something was different. Bucky had been quieter than usual, lurking in the background, watching you as you flitted from one person to another. You could feel his gaze, like a weight on your back. But you weren’t going to let it bother you. You were untouchable, weren’t you?

The music was loud, the room filled with the usual mix of celebrities, billionaires, and socialites. You could already feel your heels digging into the floor as you made your way to the bar, a playful smirk on your lips. You weren’t about to let Bucky’s behavior dictate how you had fun.

But, of course, Bucky was there. Watching. Always watching.

You noticed him in the corner, his posture stiff, his jaw clenched. He was talking to Steve, but his eyes never left you. Every move you made, every glance you cast, every word you said, seemed to send a ripple through him. It was driving you crazy, the way he had this hold on you. You could feel the tension between you both, building like a slow burn.

And then, just like before, you saw him. The older man, tall, graying hair, expensive suit. He was alone at the bar. Perfect.

You walked over, letting the sway of your hips catch his attention. He looked up, eyes widening as they took you in.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he said, his voice smooth, a hint of admiration behind it.

You leaned against the bar, giving him a sly smile. “Just looking for someone to have some fun with. You seem like you might be a good candidate.”

He chuckled, his fingers brushing the rim of his glass as he studied you. “I think I could be persuaded.”

The instant his hand landed on your waist, you knew you had him. He was eating out of your palm, just like you wanted. But then you caught Bucky’s stare from across the room. He was rigid now, his eyes narrowed, his face tense with something that could have been fury—or something worse.

You felt a thrill rush through you.

You led the older man to the couch in the corner, barely glancing back at Bucky. You wanted him to feel it. The jealousy, the frustration, the helplessness. You wanted him to see you as something untouchable, something out of his control.

But before the man could do anything more than adjust his tie, Bucky appeared in front of you, his cold gaze fixed on the older man for a split second before he turned back to you. His voice was sharp, barely contained. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

You looked up at him, your lips curling into an innocent smile, though you could tell from the vein popping in his neck that he wasn’t playing anymore. “I’m not done here yet,” you said, but there was no mistaking the challenge in your tone.

Bucky’s hand shot out, gripping your wrist with enough force to make you gasp. “You don’t get to make that decision.” He jerked you to your feet, dragging you past the man who was still trying to process the sudden intervention.

“Bucky—”

“You think you can flirt your way into whatever you want, don’t you?” His voice was low, each word like a warning. “You think this game is funny, but you’re out of your depth.”

You pulled your wrist from his grip, but the way he was looking at you made you feel cornered, trapped in a way that only fueled your defiance. “Maybe I just like making you mad,” you shot back, not even trying to hide the challenge in your voice.

“Is that it? You get off on making me angry?” His eyes darkened, the tension between you both thickening with each passing second.

You tilted your head, the playful edge in your voice never wavering. “Maybe I do.”

For a brief moment, the two of you just stood there, the silence crackling like a live wire. You could feel the pulse in your throat, the heat building between you both, thick and heavy. But just as quickly, Bucky’s expression shifted.

He grabbed your arm again, this time not in anger, but with a calculated force. He was done with the game.

Without a word, he dragged you to a private room, locking the door behind you. The silence inside felt suffocating, and you could feel the weight of his presence, pressing in on all sides.

“What the hell were you thinking?” His voice was harsh, the words coming out through gritted teeth. You leaned against the wall, your arms crossed, still maintaining your playful attitude.

“What? He was just a little older than usual. What’s the harm in flirting with someone who can buy me anything I want?” Bucky’s eyes burned with frustration as he took a step closer, crowding you against the wall.

“The harm is that you’re reckless. That man was old enough to be your father. What the hell are you trying to prove?” You could feel the heat radiating off of him, the tension between you both crackling like electricity. But you weren’t scared—not even a little.

“Are you mad that I wasn’t flirting with you?” You raised an eyebrow, feeling the rush of satisfaction return. You took a step forward, closing the distance between you, and kissed his jaw softly, just enough to leave your lips tingling with the sensation of his skin. Bucky stiffened at the contact, his expression flickering for a moment before his jaw clenched.

“This isn’t a game, Y/N,” he growled. “You think you can toy with me like that? I don’t give a damn about who you’re flirting with, but don’t be reckless.” You smirked, stepping back slightly, letting your fingers trace the collar of his shirt. “So what, you’re going to punish me for having a little fun? You don’t get to control me, Bucky.”

You were too close to him now, too close to that dangerous edge. The way he was looking at you… it was like a warning. You could feel the tension in his body, in the way his hands gripped your wrists like he was trying to anchor himself.

“You’ve made your point, Y/N,” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “But you’re not going to keep doing this. Not while I’m around.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the wall with that same cocky smirk. “And what exactly are you going to do about it?”

Bucky stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “You have no idea what you’re messing with.” His voice was tight, every word soaked with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “You think you can keep pushing me? Keep playing games with me? I’m not like the other men you’ve been with.”

You laughed, though there was a nervous tremor behind it. “Oh, I know. You’re different. You’re better.”

His lips curled into a dark smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Better doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate you for much longer.”

And in that moment, something inside you snapped. You pushed off the wall, your hand reaching out to tug at his shirt. “Then make me stop, Bucky,” you whispered, your breath catching in your throat.

For a moment, he seemed to hesitate. Then, with a low growl, his lips crashed against yours. It was harsh, unrelenting. His grip on your arms was firm, his body pressing you against the wall as if he were determined to break you.

And, in a way, he was.

Bucky’s grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened. His metal fingers brushed your jaw, cold against your heated skin, a stark contrast to the fire burning between you. His touch wasn’t soft—it was controlling, deliberate.

You should have been scared.

You weren’t.

Instead, you smirked up at him, eyes glittering with mischief, waiting to see how far you could push him. “You gonna lecture me all night, old man, or are you just mad I got someone else’s attention?”

Bucky’s jaw ticked. His thumb traced your lower lip again, slower this time, like he was testing something—testing you. “That what you wanted? To make me jealous?”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance, even as your pulse betrayed you, hammering against your ribs. “Seemed like it worked.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you. His grip on your chin suddenly dropped, only for his hands to find your hips instead. Without warning, he spun you around, pressing your front against the wall. The cold surface met your palms, your breath hitching as he leaned in close, his chest flush against your back.

“You have no idea what you’re playing with, princess,” he murmured against your ear, his voice dangerously low. “You think this is a game? Flirting with men like that, just to get a rise out of me?”

You swallowed hard, though you kept up the act, arching your back slightly, pressing yourself against him just to see how far you could push him. “You make it too easy, Sarge.”

Bucky let out a dark chuckle, but there was no humor in it. His metal hand gripped your waist, fingers pressing into your skin like he was reminding you of the difference between the two of you. “You think you’re untouchable ‘cause you’re a Stark? That daddy’s money keeps you safe?”

You turned your head slightly, your cheek brushing the wall, a defiant glint in your eyes. “So what? You gonna teach me a lesson?”

Bucky’s hand slid lower, gripping your thigh just beneath the hem of your dress. His fingers squeezed, just enough to make your breath catch. “Someone has to,” he muttered, his breath hot against your ear.

The tension crackled between you like a live wire, thick with something neither of you wanted to name. His fingers flexed against your skin, as if he was holding himself back, teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

Then, just as suddenly as he had pressed you against the wall, he pulled back.

You spun around, eyes blazing, chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. “That’s it?” you taunted, tilting your head. “All that talk, and you’re just gonna walk away?”

Bucky stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, in a voice quieter than before, but twice as dangerous, he said, “who said I was walking away?” The door clicked, signalling it being locked. His dark eyes found yours once more, he closed the space between you both.

His hands were gripping your body, and you pressed your chest into his. Your tongues intertwined and grinding your body against his. Your arms wrapped around his neck, he picks you up and sets you on the table, hiking up your dress to your waist. He pauses, “no panties? Naughty girl..” you squeaked when his cold metal fingers dipped inside your warm wet walls.

You gasped his name, as he pumped his fingers continuously. He added another finger, you whined at the stretch “Buck— its s’much”

“Shut up and take it, you were so desperate before now you crumble at my fingers?” He asked mockingly. He sucked on your neck, he didn’t care for being gentle, you didn’t deserve it— and you didn’t want it. You like the roughness, the control he had over you. You squeezed down on his fingers, your body twitching. “You gonna cum doll?” You moaned, “yes”

Right when you were about to he pulled out, staring down at you with a cold look. “Bad girls don’t get to cum. If you want to— beg me.”

Your eyes widened, really? He was making you bed for it? As if!

He resumed pumping his fingers, his other hand wrapped around your throat tightly— not enough to block air restriction. You would feel the knot in your stomach tighten, and right when you were about to cum again— he pulled out. You whined, “bucky..!”

“Beg or you don’t get to cum.”

You glared, not believing him. Until he did it again, and again. He was edging you and you were about to lose your mind. “Please.. bucky”

“Please what,doll?” He smirked, “please let me cum!” Satisfied, he thrust his fingers in once more, finally bringing you to an orgasm. You screamed his name, luckily the loud music outside prevented it from being heard from the party. “Good girl..” he kissed your head as you panted.

Then he flipped you over, pressing your head into the table. “Bucky!” You gasped. He slapped your ass, watching as it ripples. He gently touches the spot that he hit, it slowly turning a red colour. “I know you like that so don’t even try to hide it, doll” you whined once more, and without warning, he thrust inside.

Your eyes roll back and your mouth parts to scream his name. He fucks you senseless, listening as you get cock drunk— to stupid and fucked out to comprehend his words. Degrading you and he occasionally smacked your ass, his hips roughly snapping into yours. He gripped your hair, pulling your head back and pressing your back to his chest. He grabs your head and turns it to face him, kissing your mouth.

You feel yourself slipping, on the verge of climaxing again. “You look so pretty like this, doll” your makeup was smeared, cry’s watery and a bit of droll leaking from your mouth. You cum at his words. He continues thrusting, dropping your hair, and letting you fall on your stomach on the table once more. He threw his own head back, his cock twitching inside you before he came.

Ropes and ropes of cum, he pulled out with a pant, watching as your pussy was clenching around nothing, leaking of a mixture of both of your cums.

He smirks at his work, touching your ass before zipping up his pants. Whispering, “you’re mine, doll” before leaving.

You were breathless, and feel to your knees. You legs couldn’t stand— not without shaking. Still, you felt a sense of achievement.

This was far from over

[captinamericashusband]

Flirt | Tony Stark x Male!Reader

A/N: Omg a fanfic that isn't about Steve Rogers?!?! Hope you enjoy :) Also, school is starting soon but I will try to write as much as I can. I actually do find writing these enjoyable. Fanfic writing is different but fun. It's nice to use my English somewhere aside from just writing essays 🥹.

P.S. Listen to this song right now or I will hurt you:

Flirt

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: During a night out with his close friend, Y/N encounters Tony Stark and they immediately hit it off. Get that bag, Y/N!

Warnings: Alcohol use

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"Are you sure about this, Sal?" Y/N said, uncertainty laced in his voice.

"100% sure. You need to get your mind off of that cheating douchebag." Sal responded with no hesitation. A small sigh came from Y/N's mouth. He knew deep down that she was right.

After finding out his ex had been cheating on him, Y/N had rotted in his house for almost two weeks, completely isolating himself from the outside world. Only today, when his closest friend Sal practically broke his front door down, had he been freed from his lovelorn pitying.

Now, Sal was forcing Y/N out for a much-needed night out in town, determined to help him forget about his troubles, at least for just a couple of hours. The two were currently headed to one of the liveliest bars downtown, with the promise of copious amounts of alcohol and good company.

"Look, I know this might not be what you want right now," Sal said, giving Y/N a reaffirming pat on the shoulder. "But, just trust me. We're going to enjoy the night, the drinks and the people, and," Sal's head turned slightly, giving a Y/N a small smirk, "we might even find you a nice man there."

Y/N turned downward and began shaking his head to hide the smile forming on his face – he ultimately failed. "Yeah, yeah alright." While his very recent relationship's ending was abrupt and messy, the idea of finding someone new was very enticing. His previous boyfriend was, according to Sal, "hot trash", so he believed tonight could be the chance to find a truly suitable partner for him.

"That's the spirit," Sal grinned, tightly hugging Y/N's side. "Now let's go and make very questionable decisions."

Y/N chuckled despite himself, softly pushing Sal off of him. Maybe tonight would be when he'd truly move on.

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According to Y/N's inner monologue, the bar itself was quite lovely. It was a quaint, hole-in-the-wall establishment yet very populated. People occupied the bar's booths in large groups, their conversations filling the atmosphere with a nice volume. The warm and soft lighting gave the space a slight touch of intimacy. As he continued looking around, Y/N grimaced as he glanced toward a corner of the bar and saw a couple making out, their hands touching in places that were definitely inappropriate for a public space. However, despite seeing the touchy-feely pair, Y/N could tell tonight would be somewhat fun.

The two settled down on two barstools at the bar's front. Sal, being the more outgoing of the one, wasted no time waving down the bartender. "Two tequila shots, please," she said with a grin. It was a tradition for the two to begin a night out with tequila shots – a nice ritual that set the tone for the night.

The bartender slid two shot glasses filled to the brim with tequila. The two each grabbed a glass, Sal raising hers and toasting, "to a night of fun and forgetting."

Y/N raised his also, saying, "Cheers to whatever comes our way." The two smiled at each other, clinking their glasses before downing their drinks in one swift gulp.

Y/N's face scrunched in pain upon swallowing. The feeling of tequila was familiar to Y/N as he and Sal have spent multiple nights out together. However, he never grew as much of a tolerance as her for the throat-burning it caused when ingesting it. He coughed slightly, but laughed, a tingly feeling spreading throughout his chest.

Sal leaned over, slightly nudging Y/N's elbow. "So, what'll it be next for us? Should we try something strong or should steady ourselves for tonight?"

Y/N thought deeply for a moment before responding. "Let's try something different," he said, feeling bolder. "How about margaritas?"

Sal laughed. "Alright, margaritas it is. Don't blame me though for how shit-faced you might get."

Y/N rolled his eyes, but couldn't prevent the smile from forming on his face. "I guess we'll see," he replied, feeling the anticipation from what the night has to offer.

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Sal and Y/N had 3 margaritas and 4 tequila shots in each and were already a tad inebriated. Despite the bar being quite packed, their egregiously loud laughter carried around the room, causing people to look at them with slight annoyance.

Suddenly, Sal's eyes widened and she began choking on her drink. "Holy shit, bitch," she semi-yelled, catching Y/N's attention. "Don't look behind you, but Tony 'Richboy' Stark just came in with a really hot dude."

Y/N wasn't the type to listen to directions he was told – especially when inebriated – so despite Sal's warnings, he immediately looked. And Sal was correct. There, unmistakably, was Tony Stark clad in a simple tux with a black tie near the bar's entrance. Next to him was an equally attractive man, taller, with blonde hair and broad shoulders. Upon second glance, Y/N realized the other man was the Captain America.

Y/N's eyes had wandered on Tony while he was surveying the bar's interior. For a brief moment, their gazes met under the glow of the bar's warm lighting. Y/N quickly looked away. However, his curiosity got the better of him and he glanced once more. Tony's eyes were still on him, firm but with an undertone of curiosity. Y/N wanted to so desperately look away, but their stare lingered. The world seemed to fade during their intimate stare-off. A palpable tension was shared between them, and it wasn't until Tony flashed Y/N a small smile before heading to a vacant booth that it vanished.

A slight slap on Y/N's arm broke him from his trance. "Dude! I literally told you not to look and guess what you did? Look!" Y/N had to quiet down Sal's loud reprimanding voice, afraid a certain someone would hear her. She regained her composure after a few minutes of quiet yelling and continued drinking her third margarita. "Okay, but he was definitely checking you out," Sal slurred with a volume even a person outside the bar could hear.

A loud cough erupted from Y/N's mouth, an attempt to drown out Sal's voice. "He was absolutely not," he protested, taking a sip of his drink. "He was just checking out the place, and our eyes coincidentally met when he was looking at the front of the bar."

"Oh, Y/N," Sal said, slowly shaking her head. "I know you may be slow in the head–" Y/N was about to object before Sal put a finger to his lips, effectively shutting his mouth. "But you'd practically have to be blind to not notice him eyeing you like a piece of fine meat."

"Okay, but..." Y/N was at a loss for words, partly for the fact he was intoxicated but also because Tony Stark was definitely checking him out. Their stare-off lasted a little too long to be considered anything but friendly. "Wait, why were you looking at him I thought we weren't supposed to look?"

"Well, Y/N," Sal said, sloppily standing from the bar stool and grabbing her purse. "I will be going to the bathroom right now. I hope nothing significant will occur during my absence, like, say, a certain Avenger approaching you while you're sat here all alone." She winked, her gait wobbly from the alcohol.

Before Y/N could yell at her to return, she already turned the bar's corner into the restrooms. Y/N silently cursed, downing his margarita before ordering another one. His heart was beating fast, and he glanced towards where Tony was sitting. As if on cue, Tony looked up from his conversation with Captain America, catching his gaze. This time, Tony's smile widened, and he leaned in and whispered something to Steve. Y/N's pulse quickened. Then, Tony stood up from his booth and started towards Y/N. He quickly turned around, "fuck, fuck, fuck," he whispered under his breath.

Y/N could feel Tony's presence approaching. He radiated wealth, power, and overall playboy hubris with each step. As he drew closer, Y/N's anxiety reached a peak. He started drawing his focus away from the intimidating man, attempting to look very intently at the bar's collection of liquor. But Tony's sensation, magnetic as ever, couldn't be ignored by Y/N.

Tony sat on the barstool Sal was on before she left. Y/N felt his palms and the back of his knees becoming clammy, unsure if it was from the alcohol or the undeniably attractive billionaire beside him. It was probably the latter. Tony cleared his throat to catch the attention of the bartender. "I'll take a beer, please."

After Tony got his beer, an uncomfortable silence washed over the two men. Tony wasn't speaking and Y/N was too out of it to verbalize anything. Wasn't Tony – billionaire, playboy, philanthropist – Stark supposed to start their conversation, he silently thought. Suddenly getting very impatient, Y/N put the burden on himself to verbally approach Tony first. "I always thought you were a hard liquor person," Y/N's voice came out, evident in his speech that he was decently drunk.

Tony glanced at Y/N, a hint of amusement in his expression. "I've been trying to lay off the drinking for a while," he replied, taking a sip of his beer. "Only wimpy drinks for me tonight."

Y/N nodded, trying to focus on Tony's words despite his tipsiness. He could feel Tony's eyes on him, curious and unwavering. His gaze was intimidating but felt strangely warm at the same time.

Tony leaned in slightly, his tone teasing. "And what about you. I didn't peg you to be a margarita guy."

Y/N smiled, his confidence from the liquid courage abating his nerves. "I like to keep 'em guessing, Mr. Stark." He took another sip of his margarita. "Only the good ones."

Tony's grin widened slightly. "Does that make me one of the 'good ones'?"

"That depends on how you treat me tonight," Y/N replied, his voice flirtier than he expected it to be.

Another silence came after Y/N's words – a comfortable one, unlike the last time. Y/N sneaked a few glances towards Tony, finding him looking straight ahead bearing a small content smile.

"So what brings you here with" – Y/N gestured towards Steve – "that hunk of a man," Y/N asked, cutting through the quiet.

Tony set down his beer. "Well, I just got off a very important business meeting and decided to head here to unwind. Heard this place had some...interesting company." He then looked towards Y/N. "Capsicle's here as my plus one."

Y/N felt his cheeks go red. "'Interesting company,' huh?" he echoed, his nervousness returning again.

Tony nodded, his expression playful. "Very interesting," he reaffirmed. "And it seems," Tony picked up his beer, gesturing it towards Y/N. "I've made the right choice."

A sudden cough erupted from Y/N's mouth, elicited by Stark's notorious innate flirtiness. "You can't just say that, Tony. We just met and you don't even know my name."

Tony chuckled, clearly amused by Y/N's reaction. "You're right," he admitted, leaning back slightly. "But I don't need to know your name to recognize you're someone worth talking to." He took another quick sip of his beer. "Names are just a formality anyway. I'd rather know the person behind the name."

Y/N felt a mix of embarrassment and intrigue. Despite knowing of Tony's infamous charismatic boldness, it felt nerve-wracking being on the receiving end of it. It was a strange experience. "You surely know how to keep someone on their toes, Mr. Stark."

Tony smiled, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "So, whaddya say? Do I get your name or do I have to keep guessing for a little longer?"

Y/N hesitated briefly before deciding to play along with Tony's game. "Keep guessing, lover-boy."

Tony's eyebrows raised, clearly enjoying the challenge and the nickname. "Let's see..." he said, his face stern with faux concentration. "You strike me as a Jay. Or a Phil." He watched Y/N's expression closely, trying to see if there was any hint he was on the right track.

Y/N couldn't help but laugh. "Nice try, but you're way off. Guess again."

A small sigh came from Tony. "Dammit. I thought I almost had it," he said, feigning playful disappointment. "Okay, how about...Cameron? Or Mitchell?"

Y/N shook his head once more. "Nope. Not even close."

Tony leaned in closer, his smile turning into a small smirk. "Alright, I give up. What's your name, mystery man?"

Y/N also leaned in, relenting at Tony's surrender. "It's Y/N," he half-whispered. "But I did enjoy you guessing."

A genuine smile found itself on Tony's face. "Y/N, huh? I like it – it suits you." He raised his beer in a small toast. "To new friends, and to keeping things interesting."

Y/N clinked his margarita with Tony's brown beer bottle. "To new friends," he repeated.

"So," Tony said, taking another sip of his bottle. "Tell me more about yourself."

------------------------------------

Tony and Y/N talked for what seemed like hours, the passage of time becoming irrelevant to them. Y/N went on an extended rant about his ex-boyfriend, Tony listening intently, which Y/N very much appreciated. Tony in turn told Y/N about Avengers and Stark Industries business. Y/N tried hard to understand Tony's talks on logistics, all for the sake of how Tony's eyes lit up with interest when talking about the nitty-gritty of his company.

After I while, their conversation started dwindling down. The initial flirtiness settled down to a comfortable silence. The buzz from the alcohol had faded into a pleasant comfort that made Y/N feel warm inside. Y/N looked around the bar, noticing how the crowded place had thinned out. "Looks like we cleared the place out, huh?"

Tony set his beer bottle down, stretching his arms. "Guess we did. Time flies when you have fun. Or when you're with a cute person."

A warmth covered Y/N's face red. "It's been nice talking to you, Tony." He checked the time on his phone, eyes widening when he saw the time. "It's getting quite late. Me and Sal...where is that girl anyways?" Sal's entire existence completely slipped from Y/N's mind.

"Looks like Cap and your friend are hitting it off quite well." Y/N glanced towards the booth Steve was sitting in. There was very much indeed Sal chatting up a storm with Captain America. What surprised Y/N the most was that Steve actually enjoyed talking to her? He nodded, smile bright and charming as Sal's mouth moved continuously.

"Huh," Y/N mused. He looked towards Tony once more. Y/N wasn't quite sure how but Tony looked even more attractive since the last time he looked.

"I think it's time for us to call it a night, Y/N," Tony said, his voice slightly disappointed. Y/N also found himself unhappy as well. "Though, I'd like for us to see each other again. For margaritas or beer – or something stronger if you prefer." He pulled a sleek black business card from his pocket and handed it to Y/N.

"I'll take you up on that, Tony," Y/N replied, pocketing the card. Y/N stared softly at Tony, feeling a fluttery feeling in his chest. He noticed the closeness between them on the bar chairs.

Y/N hesitated for a brief moment, his mind racing with both excitement and nerves. The temptation to close the gap between them was overwhelming, and he could feel himself gravitating towards Tony.

Tony's gaze flickered towards Y/N's lips, seemingly understanding his intentions. Y/N felt a surge of confidence rush through him. He wanted this, and he knew damn well Tony did too. Without thinking further, Y/N closed the space between him and Tony, lips connecting in an intimate kiss.

Their lips started slowly at first – tentative as if testing the waters. But then Tony responded, pressing back with a gentle ferocity that made Y/N's stomach flutter. The kiss was slow and exploratory, full of curiosity and intrigue.

Y/N's eyes closed as he felt himself melt into Tony's touch. His hands found their way towards Tony's shoulders, linking them around and slightly grazing the fabric of his suit. Y/N could feel Tony's hands lightly caressing his waist, sending tingles around his entire body.

When they both pulled away, Y/N's eyes fluttered open and met Tony's, a mixture of surprise and fluster playing around both of their smiles.

"Wow," Y/N said, breathless. "That was unexpected."

"Yeah," Tony responded, sounding winded himself. "I definitely want to see you again now."

------------------------------------

Tony and Steve insisted on driving Y/N and Sal home, however, Y/N protested heavily against it. Sal was definitely on board with the idea but was drowned out by Y/N's persistent opposition.

After saying their goodbyes to the two Avengers, Y/N and Sal started on home. "So...," she began, sporting a toothy smile.

Y/N reciprocated her wide grin. "We'll debrief tomorrow."

FIN

A/N: Catch the Modern Family names 😼 Hope you enjoyed it!

[creative-caramel-coffee]

The Spiders Sister - Chapter 6

Summary: Reader goes to a stark party to meet some new people.

TW: Drinking, parties (ew), minor blood

Words: 2k

A/n Sorry for the late update my life is chaos.

Looking around at all the people you felt yourself beginning to feel a little insecure. You could pick out most of the people in the room from the TV alone. These weren’t just your average everyday people, these were superhero’s. And despite having powers yourself you still felt like you didn’t belong among legends.

Without realising it you had popped out your fangs, a small habit that displayed your nerves. You did realise it when it nicked your tongue. The coppery taste of blood in your mouth for a second before it healed.

Starting to feel a little overwhelmed Wanda placed a hand on your arm. Her touch was grounding and you were slowly being pulled back out of your own head and back to the party.

“It’s alright if it’s a bit much. It was for my first time as well. Are you ok?” Wanda said quietly to you.

You swallowed and nodded. “I’m alright. Just gimme a sec.”

Steeling your nerves and swallowing down your anxiety you stood a little taller and nodded to Wanda who was silently observing you.

After giving you a moment to adjust Wanda begun shepherding you over to a small group of people. Seemingly taking it upon herself to introduce you to people knowing if it was up to you, you would stay in the corner all night.

Before you had even realised Natasha had left your side she was handing you a drink with a cute little umbrella.

“I figure you liked it a bit fruity.” She said with a wink and your cheeks heated under the glare you shot her as she sipped her vodka martini.

As you arrived in front of the group Wanda seemed to want to introduce you to first, you took a sip of the drink, finding it to be rather good.

Looking around the group Wanda begun introducing you to it was an odd bunch.

“Y/n,” Wanda begun, gesturing to a tall blonde woman in a leather jacket. “This is Carol, or captain Marvel.” Wanda said with a teasing tone as carol rolled her eyes.

“Hi.” You said and Carol smiled warmly at you.

“Nice to meet you Y/n.” Carol said extending a hand which you took. She had a firm handshake and warm but not sweaty hands. The kind but mischievous twinkle in her eyes promised a fun kind of trouble.

“This old man is Nick Fury.” Natasha said clapping a hand on the back of a dark-skinned man with an eyepatch.

“Watch yourself Romanoff.” He said but Nat just smirked. “Nice to meet you kid.” He said extending a hand. After shaking his hand Natasha introduced you to the last person in the group.

“This is Agent Maria Hill.” Nat said elbowing her in the ribs and receiving a heatless glare in response.

“Nice to meet you.” She said giving a welcoming nod to you which you returned.

“So I hear you’re the newest spider in town?” Carol asks smiling at you as she took a swig of her beer.

“Uhhh … yeah.” You said rubbing the back of your neck.

“No need to be so nervous kid, we don’t bite. Unless you want me to.” Carol winked and you smiled back shyly not realising your fangs were out.

“Wow kid. Nice teeth.” Carol said. “Is that a spider thing?” She said looking curious.

“Yeah.” You said putting them away again.

“That’s pretty cool.” Carol said.

“We’re lucky she doesn’t bite.” Wanda said teasingly.

“I dunno,” Nat said rejoining the group with Maria. “I’d let her bite me.” She said with a wink and you choked on the sip you had just taken of your drink.

Coughing as Nat burst out laughing, Wanda pounded your back while Maria was lecturing Natasha in an amused fashion. Carol simply watched with a grin which matched Nats despite being told off.

Fury simply watched with his upper lip twitching as if it wanted to smile but wasn’t allowed which would probably have some level of accuracy to it.

When you regained your composure and your voice, your cheeks were stained with a dark blush.

“So, are you an avenger now kid?” Carol asked.

“I’m not sure.” You said.

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to Stark and Rogers about that one.” Fury said looking at you for a reaction. You simply blinked looking at him and only looking away when you realised, he wasn’t going to elaborate.

“Either way, welcome to our little bunch. If you ever need anything or just to escape the compound of chaos, give me a call.” Carol said and Maria agreed.

“I’ve only ever seen Nat take a liking to something this fast once before and that was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.” Maria said receiving a punch from Nat in the arm replying only with a smirk.

“So, how’d the whole spider thing happen?” Carol asked looking curious.

“I should have said this is y/n Parker.” Wanda said emphasising your last name.

“Like Peter Parker?” Carol asked.

“My little brother.” You clarified with a nod.

“So does being part spider run in the family or did you both do a deal with Satan?” Maria asks and you laughed feeling a bit less anxious now the vibe had changed and there was some alcohol in your blood.

“Peter and I both ended up on the field trip where he got his powers. I was chaperoning and he was … being Peter. Anyways Parker luck and we both got bit by the dumb spider.” You said.

“So you’ve just been keeping a low profile since?” Maria asked.

“Yeah. Something like that. I mean I would take Peter’s old suits for a spin when I could but not too often. Our powers differ a little so I had to play the part and not do some things he couldn’t.” You shrugged sipping your drink again.

“Well it sounds like your well adjusted to it all.” Carol complimented.

You snorted in response. “Adjusted, maybe. Cursed, definitely. What can I say Parker luck is real. I almost got it tattooed once.” You said shrugging.

“Well, it’s been great to see you all again, but I need to take y/n to make the rounds. Learn some new names and see some fresh faces.” Wanda said saying goodbye before dragging you away with her hand clasped tightly around your own.

Natasha lingered with her friends for a little longer while wanda and you were swallowed up into another small group as wanda didn’t want to overwhelm you with too many people at once.

When she came to a stop you were stood in front of a few couches with various familiar faces lounging around talking and laughing.

“Hi honey.” A voice said and you looked over to the blue couch to see Aunt May sat next to Pepper, both holding a glass of white wine.

“Hi Aunt May.” You said feeling a little more comfortable with her around. She always made you feel safe.

“You look amazing sweetheart.” May said.

“I love the dress.” Pepper pitched in and you nodded thanking her.

Pepper patted the seat next to her and you slid into the spot beside her as Natasha appeared from nowhere and handed you a new drink, taking the glass you hadn’t realised was empty.

“Fruity.” Natasha whispered in your ear but this time you swatted her as she disappeared laughing to get herself another drink.

“How many of those have you had?” May asked.

“Not nearly enough to be drunk with my metabolism.” You said rolling your eyes.

“You your brother will drink me out of house and home, and I already feed four enhanced people with the metabolism of fifteen people.” Tony said rolling his eyes.

“Be nice Tony. Plus, Peter can’t even drink yet.” Pepper said swatting his arm.

“Oh right. Yeah, that kids never touching alcohol. I watched him trip over his own feet too many times in the past week to count. I can’t imagine he would be able to even stand if he ever got drunk.” Tony said shaking his head at the idea making you and May laugh.

“Im afraid they both are clumsy.” May said and you groaned scrubbing a hand over your face.

“Really?” Wanda asked her curiosity peaked. “Any good stories?” She asked with a mischievous smirk on her lips.

“Oh, too many to count.” May said laughing and waving a hand to indicate how many.

“Please enlighten us.” Clint said seemingly having appeared from nowhere and plopping himself down on the couch opposite pepper and may. He slung an arm around Tony who promptly shoved him off.

“Personal space birdbrain.” Tony grumbled. “But please, do spill.” He said ignoring pepper protective glare he was receiving.

“Oh, I don’t know…” May said glancing at you as you shook your head pleading with her to drop it. “What about just the flip trip one?” She asked and you swallowed pausing for a second before nodding.

“Fine.” You grumbled as Clint and Tony cheered.

“Whats got feathers and grease monkey so happy?” Nat said sitting down next to Clint.

“Story-time about the Parker’s.” Stark said. “More importantly … embarrassing story time.” He clarified and nat looked at you with a raised brow as you just shook your head and slumped over to bury your face in Wanda’s neck. The alcohol making you slightly more confident and comfortable around them.

“Alright. Well as long as I can recall they have both been clumsy. But there was one time after the spider-bite that their spider sense made it even more interesting. Peter was going into their room and Y/n was heading to the living room. They both must have sensed it because peter tripped over his own feet and before he could land flat on his face, he did a front flip and landed in a crouch with one hand on the ground. Y/n would have been in his way, but she had hopped up and stuck to the ceiling. So, she was hanging on by her fingertips and peter was standing back up as she let go of the roof and fell on top of him.” May said with a chuckle.

Tony’s face was lit up like a kid on Christmas. Pepper was stifling a smile and Nat had snorted into her drink. Wanda was trembling slightly under you as her body shook with suppressed giggles as her hand glided softly through your hair as your face was still buried in her neck hiding.

Clint whistled lowly. “Impressive … yet also not.” He said chuckling to himself.

“ok enough of that.” You whined and May smiled at you softly.

“Alright honey. How about pepper tells us some stories about stark.” May said sharing a mischievous smirk with pepper who immediately grinned at stark who grumbled to himself about betrayal.

As pepper launched into a story about the time the great Tony stark had turned up to a meeting sans pants, May pulled you aside.

“You haven’t told them have you?” She said in a low whisper.

“Told them what?” You mumbled looking at your shoes.

“Come on Y/n. I know its different now but he’s not just your brother. I know it hurts but he’s still your-“

“I know.” You said cutting May off before she could finish and say the word that brought pain to your very soul. “But he’s not May. Not anymore … its different. I had to live without him for five years. It changes you. It changed me.“ you mumbled wishing you had grabbed your drink before this impromptu sidebar.

“They’ll see your file eventually, they will connect the dots. It would be better coming from the two of you if you told them yourselves.” May said taking on a sad almost worried voice.

“I’ll talk to Petey about it.” You said and she rubbed a hand up and down your bicep and offered as small smile.

“Good.” May said before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

As the two of you rejoined the group your eyes had a little less of a glint in them. The pain still raw from things you didn’t want to remember.

The battle against Thanos had been somewhat of a sore subject around the tower and you didn’t want to bring up the avengers failure.

The rest of the party was smooth sailing as things began to die down.

@tia-thesimp @lizzielillvr @leenasayeed @justarandomreaderxoxo @sycamorelibrary754 @dorabledewdroop @redwolfqueen19 @sadlesbeansstuff @idkwhatever580

Part 7

[uncpanda]

Broken

AN: I’ve been on a kick lately of Peter being Tony’s biological son. This came from that. 

Pairing: Tony Stark X Fem Reader

You watch the sky over the top of your book. You gave up on actually reading hours ago, but you kept up the pretense for the sake of normalcy. You glance over at your son. Peter’s leg is bouncing, and his science homework has been abandoned. You can’t bring yourself to chastise him for it. In fact, it inspires you to toss your book to the side. 

Peter glances at it, “Do you think . . .” 

You smile at him, “He’ll be fine. He’s survived worse.” 

“Yeah, dad’s survived terrorists, aliens, and Norse gods, but this was a friend.” 

You stand up, and go to your son. He’s almost taller than you now, but not quite. He burrows into the hug. Peter had been back from Germany for less than two hours, and the bruises he had acquired during his first Avengers foray as Spiderman were already healed. You praised God for his healing abilities. 

You also know he’s feeling guilty because Tony wouldn’t take him along to confront Cap and Bucky. 

That’s when you spot the tiny light over his shoulder. You turn him gently to watch as Tony flies towards the tower. You both go out to greet him. You take in a sharp breath when you see his face. It’s bruised and bloody. That’s all Peter needs to see before he rushes to his dad. You watch as Tony hugs him close and kisses the top of his head. 

They walk towards you together, with Tony slightly leaning on your sixteen year old son. You hug him gently and Tony clings to you. You look at Peter, “Do me a favor, go get Helen Cho. I want her to take a look at your dad.” 

Peter is gone a second later, and Tony’s grip tightens on you. The first sob wracks his body. The second one brings you both to the ground as you continue to hold him. After a few seconds he says, “He killed my mom.” Your heart breaks, and you hug your husband even tighter. 

[amethystarachnid]

Hi! I absolutely love your work sooo much (especially “LAZY DAY” with Tony) 🥹💕 If it’s okay, could you write a fluff story of Tony and shy fem reader?

This is just an example... She tends to hold back from telling Tony how she really feels, even when she needs him, because she doesn't want to be a bother (even though he’d love to be there for her). One day, she came home feeling down after a long, exhausting day at work without saying a word. But Tony, always so tuned in to her, noticed right away and cheered her up with sweet words, lots of praise, and warm hugs ❤️

Sorry if this is a weird request, and I’m just a beginner in English! Thank you so much for your amazing work 🥰

SAFE ARMS

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance fluff, tiny bit of angst but more comfort

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5k

ᯓ★ Summary: you aren't used to ask for help, always scared to be a bother for the people around you, but your boyfriend, Tony Stark himself, is ready to change that.

ᯓ★ TW(s): reader is insecure but nothing that need a tw

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The sun is just beginning to peek through the blinds when you wake up, casting soft, golden beams across Tony’s penthouse. Everything here is sleek, modern, and feels like it belongs in a world you’re still getting used to. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe that this is your home now, not just some temporary stay in Tony Stark’s glamorous life.

You turn in bed, expecting to find him beside you. But the sheets are cold, and you know what that means: he’s already up, probably buried in his lab, tinkering with some new piece of tech or fussing over another upgrade to one of his suits. The thought brings a small smile to your face, but it also settles a familiar ache in your chest.

Living with Tony is both exciting and intimidating. He’s never made you feel anything less than wanted here, even if his world feels overwhelming. Even though he’s Tony Stark—a genius, a billionaire, Iron Man—he’s somehow managed to make you feel like you belong in his universe. And yet, there’s a shyness that sticks to you, holding you back from fully opening up. It's not that you don’t trust him; it’s just… well, you’re afraid of being too much, of being a burden, of pulling him away from things that feel so much bigger than you.

You tell yourself that this is the reason you don’t go looking for him right now. After all, he’s probably working on something important; he wouldn’t want to be interrupted. Right?

With a small sigh, you roll out of bed, pulling one of his oversized hoodies around your shoulders. The familiar smell of him, a mix of his cologne and the faint metallic tang of his workshop, wraps around you like a comforting hug. It helps, a little.

Your bare feet make almost no sound as you pad through the penthouse, moving toward the kitchen. A small army of coffee machines stands proudly on the countertop—Tony has never been subtle about his obsession with caffeine. You pick the espresso machine, going through the motions of making yourself a cup and trying not to think about how empty the kitchen feels without him here.

You sip your coffee in silence, leaning against the counter, your thoughts drifting back to last night. Tony had been working late, as usual, and by the time he came to bed, you’d already been half asleep. You hadn’t even really said goodnight. It’s a small thing, but it gnaws at you now, the missed chance to tell him how much he means to you.

As you finish your coffee, you hear a faint hum from downstairs—the familiar, low buzz of Tony’s lab. You can almost picture him there, leaning over one of his projects, brow furrowed in concentration, the soft glow of his tech casting a blue light over his face.

Before you realize what you’re doing, you’re halfway to the lab, hugging his hoodie close. You stop just before the entrance, heart pounding in your chest. You don’t want to bother him. What if he’s in the middle of something crucial?

You turn, ready to head back upstairs, but then you hear his voice.

“You know, you can come in, right?” His tone is light, teasing. You don’t even have to see his face to know he’s smirking.

You feel your cheeks heat up. Caught. But the way he says it makes you feel a little bolder, like maybe it’s okay to want his company.

Stepping into the lab, you find him exactly as you imagined, bent over a small arc reactor, wires and tools scattered around him. He glances up as you walk in, and his smirk softens into a warm smile.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he says, setting his tools down and straightening up. “Come to help me save the world?”

You chuckle, hugging yourself a little tighter. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Lucky for you, I do,” he teases, stepping closer. He reaches out, a gentle hand tilting your chin up so he can look at you fully. “But, honestly, I’d much rather spend my morning with you.”

His eyes are soft, a little tired, but the way he looks at you never fails to make your heart race. Even after all this time together, it’s hard to believe someone like him could look at you like that, like you’re the most important person in the world.

“Don’t you have… things to do?” You gesture toward the scattered tools, trying to ignore the way your stomach flips at his touch.

“Plenty,” he says, shrugging as if it’s the least important thing. “But I can make time. For you? Always.”

You swallow, the weight of his words settling over you like a warm blanket. He says things like that all the time, so casually, but you know he means them. And yet, you can’t quite shake the nagging feeling that you don’t deserve it, that you’re just a distraction from the incredible work he does every day.

Tony watches you, his expression softening even more as he picks up on your hesitation. He’s always been able to read you so easily, seeing right through the walls you try to keep up.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his hand moving to cup your cheek, thumb brushing softly along your skin. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

You want to tell him, to explain all the things you keep buried—the doubts, the fears, the overwhelming feeling that you’re somehow out of place here, with him. But the words stick in your throat, too heavy to push out.

“It’s nothing,” you say instead, forcing a smile. “I just… didn’t want to bother you.”

His brow furrows, and he studies you in that intense way he has, like he’s trying to decipher a complicated equation. “Bother me?” he repeats, a hint of disbelief coloring his voice. “You could never bother me, sweetheart. You know that, right?”

“I just… you’re always so busy,” you say, your voice quieter than you’d like. “And I know what you do is important. I don’t want to distract you.”

He sighs, his hand dropping from your cheek to take your hand instead, his fingers wrapping around yours warmly. “You’re not a distraction,” he says, his voice low and earnest. “If anything, you’re what keeps me grounded. Reminds me why I do all this in the first place.”

You look down at your joined hands, your heart aching with how much you want to believe him. But that small voice in the back of your mind—the one that insists you don’t belong in his world—won’t quite quiet.

He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles, and you finally meet his gaze. There’s something raw and vulnerable in his eyes, something that reassures you that, despite all his bravado, he really means every word.

“Besides,” he says, breaking the silence with a soft smile, “I could use a little distraction now and then. Keeps things interesting.”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound slipping out before you can stop it. He grins, clearly pleased with himself for coaxing a laugh out of you, and pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“See?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your forehead. “This is exactly what I mean. I need this. I need you.”

The sincerity in his voice nearly undoes you. You lean into him, letting his warmth seep into you, and feel some of the tension begin to melt away. Maybe he’s right. Maybe you’re allowed to want him, to need him. It’s not something you’re used to, but he makes it feel… okay.

“Thank you,” you whisper, the words feeling inadequate but all you can manage. He seems to understand, his hold on you tightening slightly.

“Anytime,” he replies, his voice soft. “You don’t have to thank me, you know. I like being here for you.”

As you stand there, wrapped in his arms, you feel a familiar swell of warmth and contentment. It’s easy to forget about the doubts when you’re here with him, when he holds you like you’re his whole world. You want to stay like this forever, to keep him close and hold onto this feeling.

After a few moments, he pulls back slightly, looking down at you with a gentle smile. “How about we get some breakfast?” he suggests, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Unless you’re in the mood for some early-morning science experiments.”

You shake your head, smiling. “Breakfast sounds nice.”

He nods, taking your hand in his and leading you toward the kitchen. You don’t miss the way he keeps his hand on yours, his thumb tracing soft patterns along your skin, as if he’s reminding you that he’s here, that he’s not going anywhere.

In the kitchen, he moves around easily, gathering ingredients, cracking jokes about his questionable cooking skills, though you know he’s actually a pretty decent cook when he puts his mind to it. You watch him, a soft smile playing on your lips as he makes his way through the routine with a surprising amount of focus.

As you sit together, sipping coffee and sharing bites of scrambled eggs, the silence between you is comfortable. And for once, you don’t feel like you need to say anything more. His presence alone is enough to chase away any lingering doubts, even if only for a little while.

You walk through the front door, shoulders slumped, heels clicking softly against the floor as you make your way into the penthouse. The apartment is dimly lit, a golden glow spilling from the tall floor lamps that line the hallway, giving the whole space a quiet, warm ambience. But tonight, the usual comfort it offers feels far away, unreachable. Work had been a marathon of stress—a heavy, seemingly unending to-do list combined with a particularly harsh round of feedback from your boss. All you want is to disappear into bed and leave this day behind.

As you move into the living room, your tired eyes scan the familiar space, hoping Tony’s already in his lab or engrossed in some project. It’s not that you don’t want to see him. You do, more than anything. But you feel raw, your emotions precariously close to spilling over, and you don’t want to worry him with this heavy weight you’re carrying. You tell yourself it’s better if you deal with it alone.

But, like always, Tony surprises you.

You’re barely three steps in when you hear him. “Hey, gorgeous.” His voice is low, gentle, and immediately makes you stop in your tracks. You look over, and there he is, standing by the kitchen island, casually leaning against it with his usual effortless charm, a small smile tugging at his lips.

His gaze softens as he takes in your appearance. You’re not exactly hiding how tired you are, and the moment he sees the weariness etched on your face, his expression shifts. His smile fades, replaced by a look of concern.

He’s in front of you before you even realize it, his hands reaching out to rest gently on your shoulders. “Tough day?” he asks softly, his thumb stroking comfortingly along your arm.

You nod, swallowing down the lump that’s been building in your throat. “Something like that,” you manage, trying to force a small smile, but it barely reaches your eyes.

Tony’s brows knit together, and he studies you intently for a moment, taking in every detail, every sign of exhaustion, of stress. He knows you well enough to see through the act, to recognize the way your shoulders slump just a little more than usual, the slight downturn of your mouth that you’re trying to hide.

Without a word, he slips one arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, and with his other hand, he cradles the back of your head, holding you to his chest. His scent—clean, with that hint of metal and machinery that always lingers around him—fills your senses, and you let out a shuddering breath, finally allowing yourself to relax, if only a little.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice a warm rumble against your ear. “You’re home now. You don’t have to keep it together here.”

The words are simple, but the way he says them, so soft and sincere, chips away at the wall you’ve built around yourself today. Your shoulders sag, and before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning fully into him, letting his strength hold you up.

Tony’s hand rubs soothing circles along your back, and you can feel him swaying slightly, as though he’s rocking you, trying to melt away the tension that clings to you.

“You know, I was going to ask about your day,” he says, his tone light, almost playful. “But something tells me it wasn’t exactly a five-star experience.”

A humorless laugh escapes you, and you nod against his chest. “That’s putting it mildly.”

“Thought so.” He pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands moving to cup your face. His thumbs brush away a stray tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen, and his eyes meet yours, full of a warmth that feels like it’s wrapping around you, even more comforting than the physical closeness.

“Listen,” he says, his voice dropping to that low, intimate tone that he reserves only for you, “you know you’re incredible, right? Like… undeniably, unbeatably, ridiculously amazing.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes a little, even as your lips twitch into a tiny smile. “Tony…”

“No, no, don’t ‘Tony’ me,” he interrupts, grinning slightly. “I’m serious. They’re lucky to have you. They’re damn lucky. And if they can’t see that, then they clearly don’t know what they’re doing.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your heart ache in the best way, and you feel another tear slip down your cheek. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. It’s all you can manage, but the gratitude in those two words is enough to make him lean forward and press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Come here.” He guides you over to the couch, still holding you close. He sits down first, then pulls you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you as if he can shield you from all the worries of the world. “Now, I want you to tell me everything, but first… let’s get you a little more comfortable, okay?”

With a gentle tug, he pulls a soft throw blanket around your shoulders, tucking it securely around you. You settle against his chest, feeling the warmth of his body seeping into yours, and let out a long, shaky breath.

For a few minutes, you don’t say anything. Tony doesn’t push, doesn’t try to make you talk. He simply holds you, his fingers running soothingly through your hair, tracing little patterns along your shoulder. Slowly, bit by bit, the tension that’s been coiled tightly within you begins to unwind.

Finally, you begin to tell him about your day, about the endless meetings and the impossible deadlines and the feeling that no matter how much you give, it’s never quite enough. You tell him about the criticism, the way it felt like a blow to the chest, and how you’d spent the rest of the day doubting yourself, questioning if you were really cut out for this job.

He listens, his face a mixture of empathy and frustration, his hand never stopping its comforting rhythm. When you finish, he’s quiet for a moment, his gaze intense as he processes everything you’ve told him.

“Alright, first of all,” he begins, his voice firm but gentle, “none of this—none of it—means you’re anything less than extraordinary. I know it’s hard to see that right now, but you need to know it. You’re one of the most capable, hardworking, and downright brilliant people I know, and anyone who says otherwise clearly doesn’t know what they’re talking about.”

A tear slips down your cheek, and Tony wipes it away, his thumb lingering on your skin. “I mean it,” he continues, his tone softening. “You’re allowed to have bad days, but don’t ever think that one rough day—or even a hundred—defines who you are. You’re incredible, and you don’t have to prove that to anyone.”

You can’t help the small, shaky smile that tugs at your lips. “Thank you, Tony. I… I needed to hear that.”

He presses a gentle kiss to your temple. “Good. Because I’m not done yet.”

You chuckle, feeling the weight on your chest ease a little more. He shifts slightly, so you’re facing him, his hands still cradling your face as he looks at you with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

“I need you to know,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “that you’re not alone in this. You have me, always. And I’ll be here, on the days that feel impossible and the days that feel amazing and every single day in between. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself, okay?”

The tears come more freely now, but this time, they’re mixed with relief, with gratitude, with the overwhelming feeling of being truly seen, truly loved. “Thank you,” you whisper again, your voice breaking slightly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Good thing you’ll never have to find out,” he replies, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips.

He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle, lingering kiss, as if he’s pouring all the reassurance, all the comfort, all the love he has for you into that one, tender moment. You sink into it, feeling your worries and doubts melt away, if only for a little while.

When he pulls back, he studies your face, brushing his thumb along your cheek. “How about a little pampering tonight?” he suggests, his tone warm, playful. “You’ve had a rough day, and I happen to have a few ideas for how to make it better.”

A small laugh escapes you, and you nod, leaning your forehead against his. “That sounds… perfect.”

He grins, kissing the tip of your nose before he stands, carefully lifting you in his arms. You let out a surprised laugh, clinging to his shoulders as he carries you into the bathroom. He sets you down gently, and you watch as he begins filling the large, luxurious bathtub with warm water, adding your favorite bath oils, the ones that smell like lavender and vanilla.

When he’s done, he turns to you, his eyes warm and gentle. “Go on,” he says, nodding toward the tub. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

You smile, the weight on your chest almost completely lifted now, and slip into the warm, soothing water. As you sink down, feeling the stress and tension dissolve, you can’t help but feel a sense of overwhelming gratitude for him, for his love, for the way he always seems to know exactly what you need.

After a while, you hear a soft knock on the door,

and you smile as Tony peeks in, holding a cup of tea in one hand and a book in the other. “Thought you might want some company,” he says, his voice soft and tentative, as though he’s giving you the option to say no.

“Come on in,” you reply, your heart warming at the sight of him.

He sits on the edge of the tub, placing the tea within reach, and opens the book, reading softly to you as you soak. His voice is a comforting background, and you close your eyes, letting the words wash over you.

When you finally step out of the bath, he’s there, wrapping a towel around you and pulling you into his arms once more. “Feel a little better?” he asks, his tone gentle.

You nod, smiling up at him. “A lot better, actually. Thank you, Tony. For… everything.”

He brushes a damp strand of hair from your face, his expression tender. “Anytime, sweetheart. You’re worth it. Every single bit.”

In that moment, you know that no matter how hard the days get, you’ll never have to face them alone. And that’s more than enough.

Over time, something shifts within you. At first, it’s subtle—a moment here and there where you catch yourself hesitating, wondering if you should share your thoughts, your concerns, the little pieces of your day that feel too insignificant to mention. But then you remember the way Tony looked at you that night, the way he held you close, told you you’d never be a bother to him, and slowly, that hesitance starts to fade.

The shift is gradual, like the way daylight slowly warms the early morning sky. You don’t wake up one day suddenly unburdened by your worries. Instead, it’s the little things, small instances where you catch yourself reaching out, sharing something with him that you might have once kept to yourself. And each time, his response is the same—warm, attentive, and never anything but patient. The more you share, the more you feel a weight you hadn’t even realized you were carrying begin to lift.

One evening, after another long day, you’re sitting on the couch, thumbing absently through your phone, waiting for him to finish up in the lab. Normally, you’d keep to yourself, not wanting to intrude on his work time. But tonight, something is different. You remember the way he’d told you he wanted to know everything, even the little things, and you feel a gentle nudge inside yourself to let him in, to trust that he means it.

So, instead of waiting in silence, you pick up your phone and shoot him a quick message:

“Hey, I’m out here missing you. How’s it going in the lab?”

It’s a small step, but it feels significant. Not even a minute later, you hear his phone chime, followed by the sound of his quick footsteps coming down the hall. He appears in the doorway, wiping his hands on a towel, a curious grin on his face.

“You missing me, huh?” He raises an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe, his eyes alight with playful warmth. “Well, in that case, the lab can wait.”

You laugh, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. He crosses the room and sits beside you, slipping an arm around your shoulders as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. The fact that you reached out, that you asked for him instead of waiting in silence, feels like another small triumph, a step toward something better, something more open.

Over the next few weeks, you find yourself testing this new sense of freedom more and more. At first, it’s little things—telling him about a frustrating conversation at work, venting about the coworker who talks too loudly on phone calls, or sharing a funny meme that you know will make him laugh. He listens, reacts, and responds with the same steady interest, the same comforting warmth, as if there’s nothing in the world he’d rather do than sit and hear you talk about your day.

Then, on a quiet Saturday night, you reach another milestone without even realizing it. You’re lying together on the couch, your head resting on his chest as he absentmindedly traces patterns along your arm. You feel safe, calm, and in a moment of vulnerability, you decide to share a worry that’s been nagging at you.

“Tony,” you begin, hesitating as you search for the right words. He hums, a gentle sound of encouragement, his gaze steady on you as he waits for you to continue.

“I’ve been… worrying about my performance at work,” you admit softly. “I know I do a good job, but sometimes I feel like I’m not as capable as everyone thinks. Like, any day now, they’re going to figure out I’m a fraud.”

You’d never have admitted this before, would have held it tight, afraid that voicing it would make it real. But here, in his arms, under his reassuring gaze, you feel safe enough to let it out.

He doesn’t respond right away, and for a moment, you worry that you’ve said too much, that maybe this is one of those things he doesn’t want to hear. But then, he shifts, sitting up slightly so he can look directly into your eyes.

“You’re serious?” he asks, his voice laced with genuine surprise. “Y/N, that couldn’t be further from the truth. You’re incredibly talented—you’re doing a great job because you are great at what you do. Do you have any idea how impressive you are to me?”

You bite your lip, feeling the usual wave of doubt, but his words are grounding, steadying you. He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his gaze filled with a sincerity that makes your heart race.

“And even if you did stumble—because let’s be real, everyone does sometimes—you’d still be amazing. You’re allowed to have moments of doubt, but don’t let them make you forget how incredibly talented you are.” He pulls you close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Besides, anyone who can put up with me is automatically a superhero in my book.”

His lightheartedness draws a laugh from you, and you feel a weight lift from your shoulders. His faith in you is unwavering, and bit by bit, you find yourself starting to believe in it, too.

After that, opening up becomes a little easier. When you’re feeling overwhelmed, instead of bottling it up, you find yourself seeking him out, talking things through rather than sitting in silence. You start leaving little notes for him around the house—sticky notes on his desk, text messages while he’s working, small reminders of the way you feel, of your gratitude and love.

One evening, after an especially stressful day, you come home and immediately collapse onto the couch, letting out a long sigh. Tony’s head pops around the corner a moment later, a curious grin on his face.

“Rough day?” he asks, coming over to sit beside you, his hand immediately finding yours.

You nod, squeezing his hand. “One of those days where nothing went right,” you admit, sinking into the couch with a groan. Normally, you’d put on a brave face, act as though it didn’t bother you, but tonight, you feel safe enough to let him see the truth.

He chuckles softly, pulling you into his side. “Well, lucky for you, I have the perfect solution,” he announces, his voice filled with that familiar mischief.

Before you can ask what he means, he’s standing up, tugging you along with him into the kitchen. He moves around with practiced ease, grabbing ingredients from the fridge and pantry as he explains his plan.

“We’re making pizza from scratch,” he declares, rolling up his sleeves. “Trust me, nothing takes the edge off a bad day like smashing some dough around. Plus, I happen to know a certain someone who loves pizza.”

You laugh, feeling a flicker of excitement push back against the fatigue. Together, you roll out the dough, sprinkle on toppings, and laugh as flour ends up on both of your faces. It’s messy, fun, and by the time the pizza is in the oven, you realize you’ve completely forgotten about your bad day.

As the pizza bakes, you sit at the kitchen island, resting your head on your hand, watching him with a soft smile. The gratitude you feel in this moment is almost overwhelming, and for once, you don’t hold back.

“Thank you, Tony,” you say softly, reaching out to take his hand. “For… for all of this. For always being there.”

He looks at you, his expression shifting from playful to sincere in an instant. “Always,” he promises, giving your hand a squeeze. “And, hey, thanks for letting me be there. I love that you’re opening up to me more. It means a lot.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. It’s a reminder that this is a two-way street, that your openness matters to him as much as his support does to you.

The more time passes, the more natural it becomes. You talk about everything now—your fears, your hopes, your triumphs, and your failures. The walls you’d once held up so carefully have crumbled, replaced by a new sense of trust and security that you never thought possible.

One night, you find yourself lying in bed beside him, staring up at the ceiling in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. He’s already half-asleep, his breathing slow and even, but you reach over, slipping your hand into his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Hey, Tony?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He stirs, squeezing your hand in return. “Yeah?”

There’s a long pause as you gather your thoughts, trying to find the words to express the depth of your gratitude. “I just… I just wanted to say thank you. For everything. For… helping me feel safe enough to be myself with you.”

He turns toward you, his eyes soft and filled with a tenderness that takes your breath away. “You don’t ever have to thank me for that,” he says, his voice gentle. “I love you for exactly who you are. And I’m just glad you’re letting me in.”

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you close. In his embrace, you feel a profound sense of belonging, a feeling of being loved and accepted completely, and for the first time in a long time, you allow yourself to believe it fully.

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[my-status-single]

The One Where Peter Parker Has a Baby: Chapter 1

He’s four. His name is Ben. He’s with Happy. They won’t let him run to him. He’s four. His name is Ben. He’s with Happy. He can’t go to him. He’s four. His name is Ben. He’s safe with Happy. He’s safe. His name is Ben. He’s four. He’s Peter’s.

She had been pregnant. 

It had been early. 

So early that it had been months before she even realised. Half of the universe disappeared, Peter included.

And months later she had given birth to their son.

Their son.

Ben.

Fic Summary: Mostly canon compliant fic that centres around the relationship of Tony Stark's daughter and Peter Parker.

From the Author: This is a Peter Parker/Reader fic. It jumps back and forth between the "present" (after the blip is reversed) and the past (pre blip reversal). The main focus is Peter and our girl Y/N, but there will be exploration into other relationships as well. These include but are not limited to Tony/Steve Peter/Harley Harley/Harry Peter/Harley/Harry Steve/Bucky Tony/Stephen. Each chapter will have content warnings listed that are specific to the chapter just for added security, there will also be a summary of the chapter if the content is something you don't want to engage with but would like to continue to the next chapter. There will also be a comprehensive list of warnings. The severity of these topics varies from very intense to simply implied. Be sure to check the individual chapters for more detailed descriptions of how these themes are used.

Fic Content Warning: Underage sex, unplanned pregnancy, teen pregnancy, polyamoury, child abuse/neglect, parental death, suicide, self harm, Tony Stark in Endgame Chapter Word Count: 1743 Chapter Summary: This chapter sets up the premise of the story. Touches briefly on Peter and Y/N's relationship, as well as introduces us to Y/N's powers. Chapter Content Warning: Teen regnancy/unplanned pregnancy-We discover that Y/N was pregnant during the blip. Peter and Y/N are in high school at this point. Blip-The Blip is a part of this series, the way Peter was blipped is mentioned Mentions of anxiety/depression-It is implied that Y/N struggled/struggles with mental health Parental death (not Tony)-Peter has dead parents Descriptions of injuries-After the battle with Thanos many characters are injured, Tony and Y/N's are discussed Medical themes-Tony and Y/N are in a medical centre, Y/N is in a coma

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Please, if there is ever something in this or any of my fics that you feel needs a content warning, feel free to message me and I will make sure to add it. I want this to be a safe place for everyone.

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Ao3 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

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May 2023

Peter has known her for as long as he’s known anything. 

Back before his parents died, they had been prominent members of the Oscorp Foundation. They worked directly with Norman, and so Peter grew up spending a lot of his time with Harry Osborn. Occasionally, though, there would be a collaboration between Oscorp and their largest competitor, Stark Industries. With S.I. came Tony Stark, and with Tony came his daughter. 

She was about a year younger than him and Harry but she held her own just fine. She was smart as a whip and full of fire. 

He’d been in love with her for longer than he knew what love was. 

They had taken such a liking to each other that Tony made the effort to get them together as often as possible. Eventually, moving them to New York full-time after Peter’s parents died. Tony made an effort to keep up the relationship even then. He did it for his daughter; she’d become so attached to Peter. And he had done the same. 

The sun rose and set with Y/N Stark as far as he was concerned. 

The bond between them grew as they did. They became halves of the same whole. One rarely without the other. He held her when she sobbed, broken and exhausted, after spending the court-ordered time with her mother. She calmed his overloads after he was bit. They knew each other instinctually. Better than they knew themselves in some ways. 

And yet, there was never anything romantic.

Until there was.

They both knew. When they’d grown old enough to understand what love, marriage, and dating were, they knew it was inevitable. That there was no Peter without y/n. 

And that is a very daunting thing to face at such a young age. 

And they understood that there would be no going back once they crossed that line. 

They knew they would cross it eventually. 

But they had all the time in the world to cross it. And now, when they were so perfect as friends, neither wanted to risk what they had. 

And so they didn’t.

There was flirtation that couldn’t be helped. There were touches that toed the line between platonic and romantic, touches that lingered. Nights where they would fall asleep next to each other and wake up in a state where you couldn’t tell where one started and the other ended.

But it never went further.

Until it did

They were good kids, really. Good students, excelling in their studies, involving themselves in extracurriculars, making a difference in their community. They were good avengers as well. They weren’t officially on the team, certainly were never put in harms way. But Tony allowed them to patrol the city in the evenings, and to train with the team at the compound on the weekends. They excelled there too.

But everyone has times when they just need a break.

It happened the first time during one of those breaks

.

They had finished midterms, Natasha had been kicking their asses in training for the last month, they were tired.

And so they snuck into the hangar and hacked one of the jets. Because she could override her father’s protocols without even blinking. Spain. She had wanted to go to Spain. He’d remembered her talking about it, so he puts in the coordinates and settles in for the ride.

They’ve shared a room, a bed, countless times at this point and yet somehow this is different. Somehow this leads to their mouths on each other and their virginities lost to each other.

Things change after that.

It takes a while for them to get over it. To admit “I want you” and “I always have” and “I don’t want to wait anymore”. But once they do, once they allow those walls to be broken down they are inseparable.

The funniest thing about the whole ridiculous situation is their behaviour barely changes. 

They simply kiss now. Because they already spent nights in the others bed, they already were always touching the other somehow, they already could read the others mind and anticipate their needs. So at school, no one noticed they were dating until Peter gave her a quick kiss before running off to some sort of internship activity.

Its been years now. They are perfect. Ideal. He loves her with everything in him. 

And that’s why, when the invasion starts, he webs her to the bed so she can’t follow after him as he goes toward the battle. 

Why he goes to the battle despite her screams, her begging, her pleading. Why his last words as he disintegrates in Tony’s arms, after pleading whispers of “I don’t want to go” are “I don’t want to leave her.”

He spends five years living a life with no memory of his previous one. No memory of her, of Tony, of Spiderman. 

When the dust finally settles after that final battle, he’s the one screaming, begging pleading. Because his girl, his brilliant, beautiful, reckless girl, simply refused to let her father die. 

She’s always had them. The powers, the enhancements, that were so graciously forced upon her by her mother. 

She hated them, hated why she ended up with them. But they gave her the ability to save Tony’s life, despite it being at nearly at the cost of her own.

He’s held back, not sure by whom. He hears Steve yell for assistance to get them both off the battle field and to get them immediate medical assistance.

Her powers are…complicated. 

Her ability to heal is incredible. Whether it be herself or others. But it comes at a cost. 

Healing takes energy. She’s able to choose, when healing injuries, whether to use the injured person’s energy or her own. The severity of the wound would usually influence her decision. 

She was comfortable using someone else’s energy for smaller things, scrapes, bruises, most of Peter’s injuries because of his own accelerated healing. But bigger things…she would use her own “Because I heal better” she would say. 

Like after he’d taken the weight of a building their sophomore year, she’d used her own energy to heal that. He watched the colour drain from her face, watched slashes and bruises come and go across her skin, watched her exhaust herself right in front of him as the pain eased from his body.

After a fight like this neither had the energy to heal something as severe as this. But she did it anyway.

She does heal better. Quicker, more efficiently. It’s hard to leave any kind of mark on her because her body just rids itself of it.

So she lay in a hospital bed, half dead, as her body begins to repair what should be fatal.

Tony was exhausted, on the brink of death, he’d had nothing left to use up. She herself had been spent. So she took, and she gave. She gave what little energy she had left to Tony and took as much pain and damage from him as she could. Took as much as she could until her body gave out.

Tony woke later that night. Exhausted. Badly scarred. Weaker than Peter had ever seen him. 

But alive.

Peter is sitting at her bedside now, holding her hand in his. Needing to feel that it’s warm, needing physical proof that she’s alive. He’s fading in and out of consciousness. Fighting sleep because he can’t risk something happening while he’s asleep. It would be a restless, nightmare filled sleep anyway.

“Tony, we shouldn’t be arguing about this; you’re exhausted; you need to rest. We can talk about this la-“ He can hear Steve’s voice in the next room.

“We’re talking about this now.” Tony responds. 

Peter, even with his heightened senses, can barely hear him. He tries to tune them out, focusing instead on her heartbeat. A comforting, familiar sound that lulls him into a sense of security. 

But the next words he hears make his blood run cold, and his head snap up.

“He’s my grandson. He’s likely scared. He can’t have his mother, so let me see him.” Tony sounds angry despite his severely weakened state.

“Tony…” Steve says gently. “Look at yourself. You’ll only scare him more. He’s my grandson too. Let me look after him.”

Peter takes a moment. 

Grandson. 

Tony has no biological children other than y/n. There is Harley…a boy Peter’s age that Tony had taken in when they were thirteen. They’d been fast friends. And…maybe Harley could have had a child in the five years Peter had been gone…except he’d been in the same place as Harley for the last five years, and there was no child. 

So…so that must mean that y/n had…that she’d had a child. 

Sometime in the last five years she’d moved on…gotten pregnant…had a baby? He shakes his head, his chest aches. His feet move before he’s fully aware of it. He walks into Tony’s room. He stands there silently, until Steve notices him.

“Peter.” He whispers, a sigh in his voice.

Peter laughs weakly, tears on his cheeks that have no right to be there. It had been five years, he had no right to have expected her to wait five years. “I um…” He clears his throat, sniffing. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop…it’s just so quiet here.” He says quietly.

“Kid ther-“ Tony starts but Peter holds up a hand.

“Don’t…don’t. It’s okay. You don’t need to defend…just…if there’s a way I can help? I could call his father, if someone hasn’t already or…or go pick up anything that he might need…or…or I can fuck off if you think that would be bett-“

“Peter.” Tony says as firmly as he’s capable of. Peter looks up. “Come sit. We need to talk.” He says, gentler now.

He’s four. His name is Ben. He’s with Happy. They won’t let him run to him. He’s four. His name is Ben. He’s with Happy. He can’t go to him. He’s four. His name is Ben. He’s safe with Happy. He’s safe. His name is Ben. He’s four. He’s Peter’s.

She had been pregnant. 

It had been early. 

So early that it had been months before she even realised. Half of the universe disappeared, Peter included.

And months later she had given birth to their son.

Their son.

Ben.

[msmk11]

Never Ever

Tony Stark x fem!reader

WC: 1.3k

CW: Fluff; mentions of lunch?; Tony Stark being a gentleman 😅

Summary: Your new boss never ever does one-on-ones

Day 28 of mk’s mad dash

You’re finally starting to feel your first-day-nerves settle, and it’s a relief. After getting some one-on-one time this morning with Natasha, your boss’ previous assistant, the job doesn’t seem all that bad.

Though first-day nerves are normal, you suppose they’ve been exacerbated by the fact that you would be working for Avenger and billionaire Tony Stark. Natasha has assured you that despite his powers and influence, he’s really all bark and no bite, and that you’ll have no problem “handling him.”

Still, it’s hard to know if you 100% believe her, seeing as you’ve yet to actually meet your boss.

Regardless, Natasha has just left you to go to some Avengers meeting, so you feel relieved to know that you probably have a solid hour before you finally, hopefully (or not hopefully) meet Mr. Stark.

You decide that your first order of business is to decorate your desk with a few keepsakes from home and pictures of your friends and family.

Right in between your two monitors you set your little rubber ducks- one pink and one yellow. You neatly set out your dark blue coffee mug in the right corner and a picture frame of your cat in the other.

The last things to go up are your pictures. With a handful of thumb tacks, you stick them on the cork board walls surrounding your desk. A couple of the pictures you put up are you with your family- all of you bearing happy smiles on vacation or a holiday. Others are with your friends- your roommates from college, your old high school coworker, and your childhood best friend, Thomas.

“Is that your boyfriend?”

As you adjust the picture of you and Thomas you smirk. It’s a question you’ve both gotten many times, and the answer is always “No. that’s my best friend Tho-“

You look up from the picture and stop mid-sentence, eyes widening as you realize that you’re talking so very casually to none other than your boss.

“Oh! Uhm, Mr. Stark! Hi!” You stutter, introducing yourself, “I’m your new assistant.”

You cringe, “though I’m sure you figured that much out yourself.”

Your boss scans you seriously and then breaks out a smirk, “Please, loosen up around me- I’m just your average playboy, billionaire, superhero. And call me Tony. Mr. Stark was my father’s name.”

An exasperated chuckle escapes you and you nod, “right, okay. Sorry, Tony. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

The brunette motions for you to follow him and you oblige.

“You as well. You know, Natasha spoke very highly of you after your interview, so I’ve been very curious to meet the one who impressed the Black Widow.”

Heat creeps to your cheeks against your will, and you’re glad Tony is looking forward as he walks and not at you.

“I guess I’ll have to thank her for the glowing recommendation.”

You arrive outside what you assume is Tony’s office- given its size and grandeur.

Tony confirms your suspicions a second later. He opens the door and gestures for you to go in first.

You let out a meek thank you and scurry in, moving off to the side so he can follow. His office is impressive to say the least. It’s spacious and really, really fancy. His desk is made of the sleekest dark wood with two high-tech computers adorning its surface. Tony has the most wonderful view too- a huge window looking out onto the rooftops of New York’s most beautiful skyscrapers.

An “oh wow,” escapes your lips before you can stop it.

Your boss lets out a chuckle at your awe and nods for you to go look. You make your way over to the window and lean your hands against the windowsill.

“I already knew I loved New York. But this. I mean, wow.”

Tony joins you, standing at your side, “it is quite a view.”

The awe in his voice is obvious and you glance over at him. But he’s not looking at the city. He’s already looking at you.

“Yeah, it is,” you say, trailing off.

Your boss holds your gaze for a second before clearing his throat and looking away.

“Anyways, I just wanted to get you acquainted with where my office is and get to know you a little. I’m assuming Natasha explained all your tasks to you?”

You nod, “Yes, she did. But…sorry, I hope you don’t mind me asking, don’t you have an Avengers meeting right now?”

Tony looks down at his watch and curses, “Steve is going to kill me.”

Then he looks up at you with a smirk, “Already doing pretty damn good at your job though.”

He heads towards his office door but hesitates when he grabs the handle, “I stand by what I said, by the way. I do want to get to know you. Lunch is on me today, at noon. You can meet me out in the lobby.”

Once you nod affirmatively at him, Tony opens the door and leaves, another muttered curse reaching your ears as you follow him out.

You’ve just finished the last of your paperwork before lunch when Natasha sidles up to your desk.

“Hey hot stuff,” she teases.

You give her a weird look, “Heyyyy Natasha?”

“So, a little birdie told me that Tony’s taking you out to lunch.”

Excitement overtakes your confusion, “oh yeah! He is! I actually need to be down in the lobby in five minutes.”

Natasha smiles at you like she knows something you don’t.

“What?!”

“Is this Tony’s new assistant?” a voice adds.

It’s a man- Hawkeye, you think.

He extends his hand with a smirk, “My name’s Clint, nice to meet you.”

You shake his hand firmly, but your eyes don’t leave the redhead’s face.

“Pleasure, really. But what’s going on, Natasha?”

“Tony’s taking you to lunch,” she huffs.

“Yeah? And? It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s a huge deal,” a third voice adds.

This one, you know for sure.

Pepper Potts.

“It’s just lunch,” you sigh, exasperatedly.

“Stark doesn’t do ‘just lunch’,” Clint tells you matter-of-factly, “never ever.”

“Not when I was his assistant,” Natasha states.

“Or when I was before Natasha,” Pepper adds.

“Tony does company lunches sure, but never ever one-on-one,” Clint finishes.

Your stomach flips nervously in your stomach.

“So then why me? Why how?”

The redhead looks at you with that smirk of hers again, “who’s to know?”

She looks at her watch, “and I believe you’ll be late if you don’t leave now.”

You jump up from your chair, cursing.

“We’ll talk later.”

You try to ignore the eyes that follow you as you walk to the elevator.

For as tall as the building is, the ride down in the elevator is fast. When you emerge into the lobby, you’re relieved to find that you beat Tony downstairs.

Only by a few seconds though, it seems, because he emerges from another elevator only moments later.

He spots you instantly and gives you the smile you always see him use on the news.

When he approaches you, he brushes your arm gently, guiding the both of you to where his car is stowed away- A car that is nicer than anything you’ve ever seen, nicer even than your own home.

Like a gentleman, your boss grabs your door before you can and opens it for you. He extends his other hand to help you into the low-riding car and you willingly accept. When your palms touch, a spark shoots up your arm and you just barely withhold a shiver.

Then, the door shuts resoundly.

*****

You don’t bother reaching for your door handle, because you know you’ll only be stopped before you even get the chance.

Tony is around to the passenger side door so fast you wonder if he hopped out while the car was still rolling.

The brunette holds out his hand to help you out of the car and sparks run through your body at his touch, even after all this time.

Once he’s shut the door behind you, his hand moves from yours to wrap around your waist and rest lovingly on your hip.

“Why thank you, Mr. Stark,” you tease, “quite the gentleman.”

Tony presses a searing kiss to your lips that sends your stomach up in butterflies.

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Stark.”

[softestqueeen]

I need a Stephen strange x reader! Where the reader is Tony starks daughter! Please!

but daddy i love him

pairing: stephen strange x fem!stark!reader

summary: Tony Stark – your father – finds out about your romantic relationship with the infamous Stephen Strange. How will he react to you dating someone who is almost 20 years older than you.

warnings: age gap (about 20 years), a little bit of fighting, spoiler: happy-ish end

wordcount: 954 words

a/n: hey @expensiveinnocentgurl, thank you sm for requesting something, i hope you like this!! finally getting to some requests on here! I will probably write all my open non cm requests, then continue writing for criminal minds. It’s probably my new addiction i fear (sorry not sorry) but now lean back and enjoy while i dive back into my marvel obsession.

The communal area was quiet, only a few team members were spending their free time here reading or watching TV. Your father calls for you, his voice on edge and he didn’t look too happy either. “Can I talk to you? Alone?“

You gulped at the tone. This definitely won‘t be a nice conversation about how your day went. For a second you were questioning what you could have done wrong. And then it dawned on you.

Face paling you though about your apparently not so secret relationship with the sorcerer supreme Stephen Strange. He is not just almost 20 years older than you but also a close friend of your fathers. You and Stephen met your relationship a secret, quietly testing out the waters if the two of you were even a good match.

And you were. The last few months were the happiest of your life. Stephe was the perfect boyfriend. Attentive to your needs, taking care of you in all the right ways and of course always the gentleman. Which is why the two of you had discussed about making it official to the team in about a month or so. You would maybe announce it at Christmas or New Years. Or you would just attend one of your dads’ famous parties together and let everybody be a witness to the PDA the two of you kept to yourselves so far.

But all your plans were chucked out the window when your father led you into his office. You knew exactly what he wanted to discuss one you saw you boyfriend in a chair in front of the big mahogany desk, an apologetic look on his face.

“Please, have a seat,“ your father proses it as a question, though you knew you had to obey his demand.

He takes his seat on the other side of the desk, while you sit next to Stephen.

“When did you think about telling me?” he asked the two of you, even though you know it was aimed more at you. The frown that is slowly appearing on his face is making him appear older than he actually is.

“Tell you what,” you tried to play dumb, even though all three of you knew why you were here. Tony was not having it.

“Are you kidding me? When did you two plan on telling me that you’ve been what? Going out? Seeing each other? Fucking? However, you want to call it,” he almost screamed at you.

“Calm down, Tony,” Stephen told the billionaire with a calm voice.

“Don’t you tell me to calm down when you’ve been with my daughter doing God knows what, behind my back. I want an explanation, and I want it now!”

Stephen reached over and took your hand in his shaking one. He let his fingers run over your knuckles – your father watching the interaction with a clenched jaw – before explaining.

“Tony, I deeply respect you and our friendship, but you have to understand. I am desperately in love with your daughter, and I have been for some time. I promise to take the best possible care of her. You and I both don’t want anything to happen to her. I promise she will have everything she could ever need and more. But you have to trust me in that,” you were fascinated with how calm Stephen stayed. You were a nervous wreck, thinking about all the ways Tony could sabotage your relationship.

“With all due respect Stephen, this is not about a mission or anything this is about my daughter. I know how you’ve been with women in the past and I do not want you to repeat this kind of behaviour with my daughter,” oh your dad was pissed.

“Dad, Stephen and I have been going out for a few months now and he has never treated me bad. Of all the partners I had he is the most attentive, caring, and loving person I have ever come across. We are well aware of the age cap, but it doesn’t matter to us. Don’t you see, we love each other,” you tried to reason with him. He was slowly cracking, and you all knew it. Tony’s eyes wandered to your now interlocked fingers again and you could see his face harden.

“I’m still not happy with this. And what do you mean a few months? How long exactly has this been going on?”

“Next week it would be six months.”

Tony now stood up from his chair and paced the room.

“We wanted to wait until we are ready, you did not. What do you want to do now, dad? You want to forbid me from being with him? Good luck, because I don’t intend to leave him anytime soon. I love him, he loves me. He treats me well and I’m really happy, dad. Shouldn’t that be all that matters?” Stephen squeezed your hand. He admired how you spoke up for him, as he knew how much you valued his opinion.

Tony sat down again, the expression on his face moving into something different, something more tired.

“You know I just want you to be happy, sweetpea. And if that is with a party trick magician then so be it. You are right, I have no right to interfere with this relationship. But you know, I’m worried about you. And Stephen, you hurt her I’ll kill you, is that clear?”

A smile now spread over your face and Stephen answered. “Of course, Stark. No need to worry.”

With that Tony dismissed you both. Even if this was not ideal, you were glad the cat was out of the bag now.

“Wait, how did he even find out?”

a/n: i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated!

please also consider supporting my ao3: @ softestqueen

requests open!

taglist:@silvermagnolias@milywatermelon@BigBananaa

[animealways]

Tony: no matter what circumstances whatever you do never bet with my kid

Avengers: ok?

Later that day

Sam: hey!

Y/n standing on a balcony: what!?

Sam: i bet 10 bucks you won't ju-

Y/n jumps down from the third floor and only gets a broken foot: now where is my money bitch

Sam: wha da fu-

Tony: damn it! Not again how the fuck am i gonna explain this shit to pepper!?

[billionairebratenergy]

Stay With Me

Tony Stark x Reader

Summary: War demands sacrifice, but Tony Stark never expected the price to be her. As the battlefield burns and time slips away, he holds onto Y/n, desperate to defy fate—because losing her is one fight he refuses to lose.

───────────────────────────────

The battlefield was hell.

Smoke twisted through the sky, thick and suffocating, stinging Y/n’s eyes as she moved through the ruined cityscape. The acrid scent of burning metal and scorched earth filled her lungs, each breath laced with ash. Buildings, once towering and proud, now stood as skeletal remains of their former selves, shattered by relentless blasts. The air vibrated with the ceaseless cacophony of war—explosions, gunfire, the mechanical whir of enemy drones circling overhead.

And in the middle of it all, Tony Stark.

Y/n moved in sync with him, their backs nearly touching as they fought, their movements seamless, instinctual. She ducked beneath a repulsor blast as he turned, his armor gleaming under the flickering flames of destruction. It had been like this since the moment they entered the fray—two forces of nature, unyielding and unbreakable.

But even unbreakable things had limits.

"Y/n, stay close!" Tony barked through the comms, his voice sharp with tension.

"I am close, Stark!" she shot back, her pistol firing a precise shot that sent one of the mechanical attackers crashing to the ground in a mess of sparking wires. She smirked, but her eyes never stopped scanning, always searching for the next threat.

Tony exhaled sharply, his frustration bleeding through the comms. He hated this. Hated seeing her here, in the middle of this war zone. His mind screamed at him to force her to leave, to throw her onto a Quinjet and lock her away somewhere safe. But he knew Y/n too well. She wasn’t the type to stand on the sidelines, wasn’t the type to let him fight alone.

She would rather bleed beside him than watch from afar.

And that terrified him more than anything.

A sudden movement caught his eye. His HUD flashed red, warning alarms blaring as he turned. A massive enemy soldier—armor-clad, armed with an energy cannon—was charging toward him, the weapon humming with lethal energy.

Tony barely had a second to react.

But Y/n was faster.

"TONY, MOVE!"

The desperation in her voice sent a bolt of ice through his veins.

Before he could process it, she was already in front of him.

And then came the blast.

Blinding. Deafening. A violent eruption of light and energy.

The force of the impact sent her flying. Her body twisted in the air before it crashed against the rubble, limp and motionless.

For a moment, everything was silent.

Then Tony’s scream tore through the battlefield.

"Y/N!"

Time fractured. He didn’t remember how he got to her, didn’t remember shoving debris aside, didn’t register the chaos still raging around them.

All he saw was her.

Her body lay crumpled amidst the rubble, her chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. Blood smeared her lips, her skin pale beneath the grime and soot. His hands trembled as his gauntlets retracted, bare fingers pressing against her cheek.

"Hey," he choked out, his voice breaking. "Hey, stay with me."

She blinked sluggishly, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks.

"Why… why would you do that?!" His voice cracked, panic lacing every syllable. His heart slammed against his ribs, a desperate, frantic rhythm. "Damn it, Y/n, you were supposed to stay behind me!"

Her lips twitched into a faint, pained smile. "Because… you’re Iron Man," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the chaos. "The world… needs you."

Tony squeezed his eyes shut, a sharp breath tearing from his throat. "Damn the world," he ground out, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. "What about me? What about us?"

Her fingers, weak and trembling, lifted to brush against his cheek, smearing crimson across the metal beneath his skin.

"I couldn’t… let you go," she breathed, her words growing weaker. "You mean… everything."

Tony felt like he was splintering apart. His mind raced, calculating survival odds, running through every possible solution, every scenario where this ended with her alive.

"Friday," he barked, his voice shaking. "Medevac. Now."

"ETA one minute, Boss."

A minute.

Sixty seconds.

It wasn’t fast enough.

Tony pressed his forehead against hers, his breath shuddering. "Stay with me," he pleaded, his voice raw. "Don’t you dare leave me, Y/n."

She let out a weak, breathless laugh. "Bossy," she murmured.

His chest tightened, a broken chuckle escaping despite the pain crushing his ribs. "You love it."

Her fingers curled weakly around his wrist. "Tony… I love you."

His breath caught. Three words. Simple, yet earth-shattering.

He swallowed, his throat thick with emotion. "I know," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "And I love you too. So you’re not allowed to die. That’s an order."

Her breathing hitched, her eyes fluttering closed for a second too long. Panic surged through him, his grip tightening.

"Y/n," he rasped. "No, no, no—open your eyes. Look at me!"

Her lashes lifted, just barely, but her gaze was unfocused now, distant.

"Almost there," he whispered. "Just hold on, okay?"

But her grip was loosening.

Tony’s heart slammed against his ribs, fear choking him. "No. No, no, no. Y/n!"

The medevac arrived. Rough hands pushed him aside as medics surrounded her, voices blending into white noise.

Tony staggered back, his body numb, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He felt weightless, detached.

Then he saw her hand—weak, barely moving—reaching for him.

He was at her side in an instant, grabbing her hand, holding on as if sheer will alone could keep her anchored to him.

"I’m here," he murmured. "I’m right here."

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

Then her hand slipped from his.

Tony’s world shattered.

But he refused to let go.

───────────────────────────────

The medevac was a blur of shouted orders, blood-streaked hands, and beeping monitors. Tony sat rigid in the Quinjet, his armor streaked with soot and ash, his hands covered in a mix of grime and her blood. It was under his nails, smeared across his palms, staining the cracks between his fingers.

Y/n was strapped to a stretcher, her body unnervingly still. An oxygen mask covered her face, her lashes barely fluttering. Every time the heart monitor wavered, Tony felt something inside him unravel.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured, leaning closer. “You don’t get to pull a stunt like that and leave me hanging.”

She didn’t stir.

The medics worked tirelessly, pressing gauze to her wounds, injecting her with stabilizers, murmuring medical jargon Tony barely processed. He felt weightless, like gravity had no hold on him anymore—like the world was tilting dangerously, seconds away from toppling over.

“Boss.” Friday’s voice filtered through his helmet, soft yet insistent. “We’re approaching the Tower. Dr. Cho’s team is standing by.”

Tony’s throat tightened. He had the best minds, the best technology—everything money and genius could provide. But right now, none of it mattered. Because Y/n was still bleeding, still fading, still slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass.

And Tony Stark was helpless.

───────────────────────────────

The surgery took hours.

Tony stood outside the med bay, his hands curled into fists, his back pressed against the glass wall as he stared at her unconscious form. Machines beeped in steady, rhythmic pulses. Wires snaked around her arms, an oxygen tube hooked to her nose. She looked so small in the hospital bed, so fragile beneath the harsh fluorescent lights.

Steve and Bruce had shown up at some point, speaking to him in hushed tones. He barely registered what they were saying. Every word sounded distant, muffled beneath the static roar in his head.

He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe properly until Dr. Cho finally stepped out, her face drawn with exhaustion.

“She made it through surgery,” she said. “She lost a lot of blood, but we managed to stabilize her.”

Tony exhaled sharply, a weight lifting off his chest—only for it to be replaced by another.

“But?” His voice was hoarse, raw from all the screaming.

Cho hesitated. “Her body went through extreme trauma. We don’t know when she’ll wake up.”

His stomach twisted.

“She will,” he said, more to himself than to her. “She has to.”

Cho placed a hand on his shoulder, offering the barest squeeze of reassurance before walking away.

Tony stepped into the room.

The steady beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound in the sterile, too-bright space. He sank into the chair beside the bed, dragging a hand down his face.

“God, you scared the hell out of me,” he muttered, staring at her still form.

His fingers hovered over her hand before he finally took it, careful not to disturb the IVs. Her skin was warm, but her grip was slack. Too slack.

“I meant what I said back there,” he murmured. “Damn the world, Y/n. I don’t—I can’t—” His breath shuddered. “I can’t lose you.”

His thumb traced idle circles over her knuckles, a feeble attempt to ground himself.

For hours, he stayed there. Talking to her. Begging her.

Waiting.

The first flicker of movement was almost imperceptible. A twitch of fingers. A small shift of breath.

Tony shot up, his heart pounding as he gripped her hand tighter.

“Y/n?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Her lashes fluttered. A small groan escaped her lips.

Then, slowly—so slowly—her eyes cracked open.

Tony swore he felt the Earth tilt back onto its axis.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he rasped, his throat tightening.

She blinked groggily, her gaze unfocused before it finally settled on him. A weak smile tugged at her lips. “Told you…” Her voice was hoarse, barely audible. “Bossy.”

A breathless, broken laugh slipped from him. Relief crashed over him so fast it left him dizzy.

“You love it,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

She squeezed his hand—weak, but there. Real.

Tony closed his eyes, exhaling shakily.

She was still here.

And he wasn’t letting her go.

───────────────────────────────

[cece693]

No (Steve Rogers x GN! Reader)

I haven't been focusing on my asks (and I know I should) but this was just something I had to write about. Most Steve fics have a romantic plot, but what if I want to change that? No, I'm not killing anybody but saying no to marriage might be in Steve's book.

Summary: You loved Steve, but you weren't ready to make the big step in marrying him. Others don't understand or merely refuse to accept your reasoning.

tags: marriage proposal gone wrong, reader has their reasons, hurt Steve, Avengers meddling in things

The cozy glow of the living room bathed everything in warm hues, as if the universe itself cradled this moment. Steve Rogers stood before me, larger than life yet heartbreakingly human in the way he looked at me—with unyielding love that made my chest tighten. My heart thundered as he sank to one knee, his golden hair catching the light like a halo. His hand trembled slightly as he produced a small black box.

His smile was tender, adoring—the kind of smile you’d only see in fairy tales and classic romances.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he began, his voice steady but soft. “These past three years have been the best of my life, and that’s saying something for someone who’s lived as long as I have. You’ve given me a reason to keep going when everything else had faded. I love you. Will you do me the honor of becoming mine?”

The room fell silent. Too silent.

I didn’t need to turn around to know the Avengers were crowded against the door, holding their breath. My eyes dropped to the ring—a delicate, beautiful thing. So perfectly Steve. I could imagine him painstakingly choosing it, probably consulting Nat or Sam for advice. It was perfect. He was perfect.

And yet…

“Steve,” I whispered, my voice trembling as I struggled to form words. “I…I can’t.”

The silence turned suffocating. His smile faltered, and his bright blue eyes searched mine as though I’d just spoken a foreign language. “What?”

“I can’t say yes,” I said softly, my throat tightening around the words.

Before I could even attempt to explain, the door burst open, and the Avengers stormed in like a tidal wave of disbelief and judgment.

“Are you kidding me?” Tony’s voice was sharp, incredulous. “You rejected Steve Rogers? Captain America? What is wrong with you?”

“It’s not—” I tried, but Natasha’s icy glare stopped me in my tracks. Her expression was devoid of emotion, but the disappointment in her eyes cut deeper than words ever could. Even Thor, lovable Thor stood with his arms crossed, his brows furrowed, as though I’d committed some unspeakable crime.

“How could you?” Clint’s voice rang out next, loud and accusatory. “Do you even realize what it took for him to plan this? The time, the effort, the heart—and you just said no?”

“I didn’t mean to—” My voice broke, but they weren’t listening. Even Sam shook his head, muttering something about how I didn’t deserve Steve. I turned to him, desperate for support, for something. But Steve stayed silent. His shoulders slumped, his head bowed, his expression unreadable. He didn’t stop them. He didn’t defend me.

The weight of it all became too much.

“Enough!” I shouted, my voice cracking as I stood. The room fell silent, all eyes on me, but I didn’t care. Tears burned in my eyes as I glared at them. “You didn’t even let me explain! You’re all so quick to judge, to attack me, without even asking why I said no. Do you think I don’t love him? That I don’t care about him? You’re wrong.”

I turned on my heel, my voice trembling with anger and heartbreak. “I said no because I’m not ready—not because I don’t love him, but because I do. But clearly, none of you care to understand that.”

Without another word, I stormed out of the room, ignoring their calls after me. My chest felt like it was caving in, the weight of their disappointment and Steve’s silence pressing down on me until I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know where I was going, but I needed to get away.

Hours later, I sat on a bench at the edge of a quiet park, the cold night air biting at my skin. My hands were trembling, and I didn’t know if it was from the chill or the lingering hurt.

“Mind if I sit?”

I looked up to see Steve standing there, his expression soft but cautious. His voice was gentle, careful, as if he were afraid of saying the wrong thing. I nodded wordlessly, and he took a seat beside me. For a moment, neither of us spoke, the silence stretching between us. The stillness gnawed at me until I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why are you here, Steve?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“To listen,” he said simply. His blue eyes, tired but sincere, locked onto mine. “I should’ve done that earlier.”

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening again. “You didn’t stop them,” I said, my voice breaking slightly. “You let them say all those horrible things about me, and you didn’t stop them.”

His face fell, and he reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing his hand over mine. “I know,” he said softly. “And I'm sorry. I froze. I didn’t know how to handle it. But I don’t blame you for saying no. I could never blame you for that. I just…I was surprised.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I shook my head. “I didn’t say no because I don’t love you, Steve. I love you so much that it hurts. You’re everything, Steve. You’re kind and patient and wonderful. But this…this is forever. And I need to know I’m the best version of myself before I make that promise to you.”

His eyes softened, though the pain lingered in the corners. “I thought…after everything we’ve been through—”

“Exactly,” I cut him off gently, my voice breaking. “After everything we’ve been through, I don’t want to rush into this and risk us falling apart. I want us to last, Steve. And I need to work through my own fears and doubts to make sure I’m ready for that kind of commitment.”

His hand tightened around mine, grounding me. “Thank you for explaining things. And I respect your decision; I'll wait, as long as it takes, until you're ready to say yes."

I looked up at him, the sincerity in his eyes breaking through the wall of guilt and fear I’d built around myself. “You’re not mad?”

Steve shook his head, offering me a small, tender smile. “No. I love you too much to be mad. I just…I needed to understand. And now I do.”

Tears spilled down my cheeks, and I leaned into him, letting him wrap his arms around me. For the first time that night, I felt like I could breathe again.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “For listening. For understanding.”

“Always.”

[mintyys-blog]

Avengers x reader: We Gotta Stop Meeting Like This

WARNINGS: none

The Avengers were sick of you.

Not in a mortal enemy kind of way. Not even in a we need to neutralize this threat way. No, they were sick of you in the way someone gets sick of a fly that won’t leave them alone. A very persistent, chaotic, annoying fly.

“How the hell does she keep getting past security?” Tony grumbled, watching you lounge on his expensive couch like you owned the place.

“Better question,” Sam piped up, arms crossed. “Why does she keep coming back?”

“Because it’s fun, Wilson,” you answered, stretching out with a smug grin. “You guys are so easy to mess with. It’s practically a public service.”

Steve sighed, rubbing his temples like he could physically force patience into his brain. “What do you want, exactly?”

You gasped in mock offense. “Want? Can’t a girl just drop in to say hi?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “No.”

“Rude.”

Bucky, who had been silently glaring at you, finally spoke up. “You broke into the compound again just to annoy us?”

You tilted your head, thinking. “Well, that… and I may have borrowed something from Tony’s lab.”

“Excuse me?” Tony shot forward, eyes narrowing. “What exactly did you take?”

You dangled a sleek, high-tech-looking device between two fingers. “Dunno. Looked expensive. Thought I’d take it for a spin.”

Tony lunged. You dodged. The chase was on.

You sprinted through the compound, giggling as the Avengers scrambled after you. It was almost too easy to rile them up. You turned a sharp corner and slid into an air vent—because of course you knew your way through the vents.

“She’s in the vents again!” Peter yelped, pointing wildly.

“For the last time,” Rhodey groaned, “who keeps leaving them open?”

You reappeared moments later, this time hanging upside down from a support beam, the stolen gadget still in hand. “You guys gotta work on your security. It’s embarrassing at this point.”

“Get down from there,” Steve ordered.

“You gonna say please?”

“…No.”

“Wow. Manners are dead.”

Bucky, who was already seconds away from snapping, narrowed his eyes. “You do realize we’ll catch you eventually, right?”

You grinned, tossing the device back to Tony, who caught it with a glare. “Oh, I count on it, Barnes.” Then, with a dramatic sigh, you added, “We really gotta stop meeting like this.”

And just like that, you disappeared—again.

“She’s getting way too comfortable here,” Sam muttered.

Tony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Next time, we’re installing lasers.”

Steve shook his head. “Next time?”

Because of course there would be a next time.

[supercap2319]

Sex with Peter in the tub 🛀 Tony goes to check on you and Peter holds his breath under the water to avoid ditection.

Peter takes a deep breath and lowers himself slowly onto your rock-hard shaft, wincing in pain-laced pleasure as he grips the sides of the tub to keep himself up "Fuck..."

"Fuck, Peter. You're so tight." You moan.

Peter starts to ride your cock slowly, his balls slapping against your thighs with each downward thrust. His muscles ripple beneath his skin, and his eyes are half-closed in lustful bliss.

You groan and throw your head back and moaned as Peter rides your hard cock hard and rough. "Peter, so good..."

Peter's movements become more frantic, his hips bucking wildly as he takes your cock deeper and harder. His back arches and his fingernails dig into the skin of the tub, leaving shallow marks. "Fuck, I'm close..."

"Me too. I'm gonna cum–"

"–Y/N? You okay, kid?" Tony's voice came through the door as he knocked.

"I'm fine, Tony." Y/N moans.

"I'm coming in."

Y/N quickly pushed Peter off his cock and into the soapy water as Tony walked in. "Kid, you still take baths?"

"It's been a stressful week. They're my safe spaces." Y/N said, keeping Peter submerged.

"You sure there's no one else in here?" Tony asked.

"I'm sure. Can you please leave? This is weird."

Tony gave him a suspicious look, but nodded and left as Peter's head broke above water and he coughed.