#James Rhodes

[why-i-love-comics]

West Coast Avengers #4 (2025)

written by Gerry Duggan art by Danny Kim & Arthur Hesli

[cece693]

Why Me Though?

pairing: tony stark x gender neutral reader tags: you're a normal civilian who's dating Tony stark, media is ruthless and mean, Tony comforts you, fluff overall, reassurance that Tony loves you

You feel the heat of a thousand camera flashes on your skin as you step out of Tony’s sleek Audi. The press is swarming, forming a wall of flashing lights and insistent shouts. Tony stands next to you—three-piece suit, tie slightly askew, that signature smirk in place. You can sense the tension in the air, a ripple of quiet disbelief that Tony Stark, billionaire, genius, superhero, would be dating…you. Just an ordinary civilian.

Despite the whirlwind, Tony’s hand wraps securely around yours. When he speaks, his tone is confident as ever, “Let’s give them something to talk about.” He always exudes that fearless swagger, the unstoppable Tony Stark bravado. On most days, you love him for it. On others, you wonder how you ended up on a stage for the world to judge.

You learn quickly that the public is split—though “split” might be generous. Whenever you two appear in public, tabloids scream, “What does Tony Stark see in them?” or “Has the hero of New York City lost his touch?” Some people keep their disapproval subtle, with raised eyebrows and snide comments on social media. Others are more vocal—outlets tear you down as unremarkable, undeserving, or even a nuisance to Tony Stark’s busy life.

In the corner of your phone’s screen, a text notification from your best friend pings: You’re way out of his league, TBH. It’s meant to be a joke, but there’s an underlying note of seriousness. Your friends and family whisper about Tony Stark’s reputation. Playboy. Hotheaded. A trouble magnet who can’t keep himself away from the center of destruction. Why would you hitch your wagon to someone always on the brink of the next cataclysm? Even your mother, usually optimistic and supportive, had asked over Sunday lunch, “Are you sure you’re ready for that lifestyle, dear? Tony seems… complicated.”

And complicated he is. But no one else sees how Tony’s sharp wit softens when the lab doors close behind him, or how he stays up late checking in on you just to make sure you’re sleeping well. They don’t see how earnestly he listens when you talk about your day, or how he takes your opinions seriously—even against his own stubborn ideas. Above all, they don’t see the quiet moments—moments of sincerity where he silently promises he would protect you from the storms of his world.

One evening, you’re swamped under a pile of grocery bags when you arrive home, heart heavy with the day’s news cycle. You open the door to find Tony in the kitchen, wearing an apron over his designer shirt. The smell of tomato sauce and fresh herbs fills the air. He looks up, half-embarrassed at being caught red-handed in domestic territory.

“Um…I tried,” he says with a sheepish shrug. “I didn’t burn the kitchen down, so that’s a plus.”

You set the groceries down and offer a tired smile. “Must be a new record for you, Mr. Stark.”

He pretends to wince. “Ouch. You wound me.” He’s joking around, but you can tell he’s worried about you. He can see the exhaustion, the stress etched into the corners of your eyes. His face softens in that way that only you seem to notice. “You okay?” he asks, voice quiet.

“Just…people,” you say, giving a noncommittal shrug. “Same old: ‘Why us?’ ‘How could Tony Stark—’” You pause when your throat constricts, a thousand unspoken frustrations clogging your voice. “It’s exhausting.”

Tony sets down the spoon he’s been wielding like a scepter. The moment he pulls you into a gentle embrace, your tension eases. He doesn’t even care if sauce stains his expensive suit. He’s there, fully and completely. “Let them talk,” he murmurs into your hair. “They don’t know what we have. Why care about them?”

You exhale, letting yourself melt into the warmth of his arms. Tony’s easy confidence is a shield—a reminder that he has weathered far worse. He’s told you a million times that the world’s opinions don’t matter. Sometimes you wish your heart believed that as fully as he does.

A few days later, you’re invited to a small gathering at the Avengers Compound. A rare, quieter evening with a few of Tony’s closest allies. Despite the negativity swirling in the outside world, there’s a surprising acceptance among the team. Rhodey greets you warmly. Sam teases Tony about finally settling down. Even Natasha offers a subtle nod of approval across the room. But when you pass by a reflective window in the corridor, you see flashes from outside. The press has found you again. Across social media, you know the headlines are forming. Your phone buzzes with new notifications that make your stomach twist.

Tony, noticing your expression, quietly takes your phone from your hand and pockets it. “Let’s keep your attention on me tonight,” he says with a small grin. “I promise, I’m way more entertaining than any rumor mill.” You let him lead you back to the common area, where the hum of conversation wraps you in comfort. The negativity doesn’t evaporate—it never does—but for a moment, you’re reminded why you stay.

Later that night, you’re perched on the couch in Tony’s private corner of the compound, an oversized blanket draped across your legs. The day’s tensions swirl in your mind, and you find yourself blurting out the question that’s plagued you since all of this started: “Tony, why me?” you ask softly, eyes trained on the glowing city skyline through the window.

He sits beside you, gaze following yours out toward the distant lights. For a second, the bravado flickers, and you see the man beneath the persona. “Because you remind me that I’m more than Iron Man,” Tony says simply, fiddling with the edge of the blanket. “Because you see me—the good, the bad, the complicated—and you don’t run away. You don’t see some grand hero or a walking paycheck. You see me as I am.”

He turns to face you, expression earnest in a way that still surprises you sometimes. “And because I’m a selfish jerk who wants to keep the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You breathe in, letting his words settle around your heart. The negativity from the outside world, the skepticism from your family, the prying tabloids—it’s a harsh reality. But the warmth in Tony’s eyes tells you exactly why this is worth it. Sliding closer, you reach for his hand, twining your fingers together. “Okay, hotshot,” you whisper, a small smile forming. “We’ll face them together.”

His smirk returns—cocky, but also filled with genuine affection. “That’s all I ask.”

[screengifs]

@mcuchallenge November prompt - NAME

"Tony Stank"

[ironspidersblog]

How it feels remembering that no one thought anything of Tony showing signs of being suicidal in iron man 2 because he just “acted like that all the time”

[itscrazycasey]

Avengers on a mission:

Bruce: Well, that went good!

Steve: Yeah, surprisingly.

Rhodey: It’s… too quiet. Now that I think about it, the whole battle was too quiet.

Tony, holding up his hand in the front: where’s the kid.

Pan over to Peter who is playing with puppies he saw halfway to the battle.

[kayvsdoodles]

two old nerds for @crhodey ! thanks for commissioning me 💛

[spideyson-stuff]

Rhodes: What... what is that?

Tony, without taking his eyes off his tablet doing something probably very important, with a sleepy Peter on his lap hugging him like a child wanting his dad attention: He had a bad day

Rhodes:

Rhodes: Fair enough

[oldmanbracket]

Sexiest Old Man Tournament: Round 2

Who is hotter?

[sreppub]

irons :)

[justaz]

peter, nauseous as fuck but refuses to admit that he feels ill:

rhodey who attended college with tony and knows the exact face he makes when he over does it, glances at peter (who is literally like a carbon copy of tony) and asks on instinct: what did you take?

peter, forcing his stomach to not spew everywhere, trying and failing to act casual: what? nothing. i didn't take anything.

rhodey activating his mom voice colonel voice: peter.

peter: i did what i had to. (reaches into his pocket and pulls out $40) and i won the bet.

rhodey: what did you do?

peter: i drank a gallon of bleach

rhodey, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath trying to process how peter is simultaneously better and worse than tony ever was: why...did you drink a gallon of bleach?

peter: i lost my backpack and needed money to buy a new one. and i cant ask may. shes bought seven over the last two months

rhodey:

peter:

[squilfmybeloved]

loving multiple ships is so fun like yeah thats tony's wife pepper, pepper's wife may, and pepper and may's wife natasha. yeah that's pepper's husband tony, tony's husband rhodey, tony's other husband steve, steve's husband bucky, bucky's boyfriend sam, bucky's girlfriend sarah, and tony's other OTHER husband stephen. and they're all coparenting peter parker, what about it?

[why-i-love-comics]

West Coast Avengers #4 (2025)

written by Gerry Duggan art by Danny Kim & Arthur Hesli

[lukas-dusk]

Tony bleeding out after fighting bad guys : Is he staring at me?

Rhodey trying to stop the bleeding : Of course he’s staring at you, you’re bleeding out.

Tony : But is he staring at me in an "ahh he’s bleeding out!" Or "ahh he looks so hot when he’s bleeding out!" way?

Rhodey no longer putting pressure on the wound to stare at Tony blankly :

Rhodey : What.

Pepper : He’s staring at you in an "ahh he’s bleeding out!" type of way. Why would he think it’s hot?!

Stephen staring at Tony in a "ahh he’s looks so hot when he’s bleeding out!" way : I mean...

Wong : For fuck sake!

[incorrect-marvel-because-why-not]

Some of the Avengers are on a hike Rhodey: It’s beautiful out here. Bruce: And quiet. Sam: Too quiet. Bucky: Did we lose someone? cut to Steve with a bear in a headlock

[gunsandspaceships]

“Tony never admits he’s wrong”

they say.

This is an addition to the excellent post by officiallallorona. Here’s the complete list of Tony’s “I was wrong”:

Iron Man (2008):

0:45:29

1:12:52

1:29:40

Iron Man 2:

1:17:40

1:46:05

Iron Man 3:

0:04:40

0:21:15

0:42:00

0:42:08

Captain America: Civil War:

0:58:50

1:54:25

1:57:57

Spider-Man: Homecoming:

1:59:15

13 times. A lot more than one, Sam.

[cece693]

PLEASE MORE ASGARDIAN M!READER!!!

May I suggest a fic where the reader wants to bond closely to Wanda and Natasha but, is afraid because their only concept of sister relationships was Hela (reader is a little scared of Hela 😔 due to her destructive nature). Can I also add that the reader has slightly long hair (shoulder length) to braid!

Thank you for your talent and dedication!

He's Cute (Pt. 1.5)

pairing: bucky barnes x male reader tags: wanda and natasha are the best, sibling duo, getting ready for the date, hints of WandaNat/ScarletWidow, bucky being adorably smitten, yes 1.5 cause pt. 2 is the actual date :)

You fiddled nervously with the ends of your hair, pacing the length of your borrowed bedroom in the Avengers Compound for what felt like the hundredth time. Today was the day: your very first official Earth date. With none other than Bucky Barnes. Just the thought of it sent a rush of excitement (and panic) through your veins.

The problem? You had no clue how to prepare for a Midgardian date. A tunic and breeches might scream ‘medieval faire,’ and your more formal Asgardian garb would be even more intimidating. What if Bucky took one look at you and decided you were too over-the-top or—in the worst scenario—ran for the hills? Then there was your hair. Should you leave it loose? Tie it back? Attempt some elaborate braid?

What if I make a total fool of myself? you thought, tugging on your hair with a frustrated groan. You considered consulting Thor—briefly—until your imagination conjured an image of him bellowing, “Wear your finest Asgardian leathers!” and slapping you on the back so hard you’d stumble. Not exactly helpful.

You also thought about Tony or Steve, but quickly dismissed those options. Tony might tease you relentlessly, and while Steve was sweet, he was probably as clueless as you when it came to modern dating intricacies.

That left two people you admired from a (sometimes intimidated) distance: Wanda Maximoff and Natasha Romanoff. You’d seen how confident and stylish they both were—able to slip into a gown or tactical gear with equal flair. If anyone can help me blend Asgardian flair with Midgard style, you reasoned, it’s them.

Trouble was, the concept of “sisterly” assistance made your stomach twist. Your only sisterly figure had been Hela—and she was the embodiment of destructive chaos. Whenever you thought of “sisterly bonds,” images of shadowy blades and a mocking sneer intruded on your mind. Still, you had no one else to turn to, and time was running out.

It didn’t take long to find them. Wanda lounged on a couch, sipping tea and reading a worn paperback. Natasha reclined in an armchair nearby, scrolling through her phone. They exuded a relaxed warmth that made your nerves surge all over again—how did you even start this conversation?

Wanda glanced up first, her warm eyes creasing in a small smile. “Oh! (Y/N), did you need something?”

Natasha flicked her gaze over to you, phone still in hand. “You look like you’re either about to faint or confess a murder. Everything okay?”

Embarrassed, you rubbed the back of your neck. “I—I’m sorry to interrupt. I know you’re both probably busy, but I…I have a date. With Bucky,” you added softly, feeling your cheeks heat at the admission. “And I have no idea what to wear or how to do my hair, or—anything, really.”

Wanda’s eyebrows rose, and a slow grin spread across her face. “A date with Bucky? That’s adorable.”

Natasha set aside her phone, crossing her arms. “So you want a bit of a makeover?”

You cleared your throat, nerves clashing with relief. “Yes. Please. I don’t know how Earth dates usually go. I’m used to, well…armor and father-gifts, and illusions if I want to ‘dress up.’ But that’s not exactly the vibe here.”

Both women chuckled at that. Natasha stood and motioned for Wanda to follow. “Come on, let’s get you set up. And don’t worry—you’re not bothering us. We’d love to help you not show up to your date in full Asgardian regalia.”

Natasha led you to what appeared to be a converted storage room. Racks of clothing lined the walls, and a couple of tall dressers stood at one end. You caught glimpses of everything from formal evening wear to casual street clothes—no doubt a stockpile from Tony’s various shopping sprees.

“Okay,” Natasha declared, scanning the racks. “We need something comfortable but sharp. You want to catch Bucky’s eye without screaming I’m a prince from another realm.”

Wanda’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Though, honestly, you could show up in a paper bag and he’d probably swoon.”

You felt your cheeks flame. “I—um, I just don’t want to look foolish.”

Natasha brushed aside a row of jackets. “We won’t let that happen. Trust us. Let’s see…” She paused, sizing you up. “You’ve got a good build—broad shoulders, trim waist. We should highlight that. Maybe a well-fitted shirt.”

Wanda’s gaze flicked between you and Natasha. “Oooh, yes. And if we can find a color that brings out his eyes…” She rummaged through a section of button-downs.

That left you standing there, feeling slightly awkward, as they pulled items from hangers and debated the merits of each. You shifted from foot to foot, your anxiety creeping in. This is far less terrifying than dealing with Hela, right? you told yourself. And yet, your heart hammered in your chest.

Eventually, Wanda triumphantly held up a simple, fitted gray button-down. “This might do,” she said, pressing it to your torso. “It’s not flashy, but it’ll look nice with your coloring.”

Natasha grabbed a pair of dark jeans from the next rack. “Try these on. We’ll see if they fit. If they’re too baggy, we’ve got more.”

Clutching the clothes, you ducked behind a folding screen in the corner. The chatter on the other side continued quietly:

“You think Bucky’s actually ready for a date?” Wanda whispered. “Oh, I’m sure he’s ready,” Natasha replied in the same hushed tone. “Steve says he's been looking at the clock constantly and somehow managed to trip over his own feet. He's more than ready."

Their amused banter made you smile—clearly, Bucky was as worked up about this as you were. That was comforting.

You slid into the jeans and button-down, surprised at how well everything fit. They weren’t Asgardian leathers, but the fabric was soft and flexible, hugging you just right. You stepped out self-consciously. “Well? How do I look?”

Wanda gasped softly, covering her mouth. “(Y/N), you look amazing!”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, arms folded. “Yeah, that’ll do. Sleeves up—roll them a bit. Show off those forearms. Trust me.”

Blushing, you obeyed, feeling a little self-conscious and a little flattered. “You really think Bucky will like it?”

“Absolutely,” Wanda replied, beaming. “He’d have to be blind not to notice how good you look.”

Natasha pretended to examine your outfit with a critical eye, but you noticed a small, knowing smile playing at her lips. Then her gaze flicked to Wanda, and they shared a subtle look—one that made your cheeks flush a second time. You weren’t sure, but it almost seemed like there was a soft warmth passing between the two women, a private understanding that neither was voicing.

Then came the matter of your hair. It fell around your shoulders, a bit unruly from the stress of pacing your room all day. You lifted a lock, hesitating. “Normally, if this were a formal Asgardian function, I’d wear a crown braid or decorative metal clasps that sparkle with runes. But that’s probably too fancy, right?”

Wanda stepped closer, gently running her fingers through your hair in a way that felt surprisingly soothing. “Yes. Maybe we could do a simple side-braid, just enough to keep it out of your face. Or tuck it behind your ears. You have a nice jawline, so let’s show it.”

Natasha approached with a comb and some small hair ties, exchanging that same subtle smile with Wanda as they both set to work. You couldn’t help but notice the soft brush of Wanda’s hand, the way Natasha’s posture angled toward her whenever they spoke. Something about their easy familiarity and gentleness felt domestic, like they’d done this a hundred times…maybe even for each other.

“Relax,” Natasha murmured, positioning you to face a mirror. “We won’t do anything too elaborate. Just enough to keep Bucky’s eyes on you, not on how complicated your hairstyle is.”

Wanda’s lips curved into a playful smirk. “Though he’ll definitely be looking either way.”

They worked in tandem, brushing, smoothing, and expertly twisting a small section of hair into a neat side-braid. With each gentle tug, your tension melted. It felt so normal, to be fussed over by these two formidable Avengers, whose reputations alone could strike fear into entire enemy organizations. Yet here they were, braiding your hair and chatting like older sisters might.

Every so often, you caught a flicker of something more than platonic in their glances—maybe the way Wanda’s hand lingered on Natasha’s wrist when passing a hair clip, or the private smiles they exchanged. It was fleeting, but definitely there. You wondered if you were witnessing the beginnings of something deeper between them—or perhaps it had been there all along, carefully kept behind the scenes.

Finally, Wanda tucked the last strand into place, and Natasha stepped back, admiring their work. “Alright, pretty boy. Check it out.”

You moved to the mirror, heart fluttering in anticipation. The reflection that stared back looked…well, incredible. The blazer fit perfectly, highlighting your form without overpowering your frame. The rolled sleeves revealed just enough forearm to be intriguing, and the subtle side-braid left most of your hair loose but framed your face nicely.

Your mouth fell open. “I—I look…”

“Really, really handsome,” Wanda finished, placing a gentle hand on your back.

Natasha’s smile softened. “You do. And trust me, Bucky will probably forget how to speak for a minute when he sees you.”

A mixture of pride and embarrassment bloomed in your chest. “Thank you. Honestly, I feel so confident. I’ve never had that before.”

Wanda wrapped an arm around your shoulders, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “Of course. You’re about to go on a date, not face a war. It should be fun.”

Natasha’s gaze turned momentarily serious. “But if he does anything to make you uncomfortable—pressures you, upsets you—” She paused, letting the threat linger, “—I will personally have words with him.”

“And by ‘words,’ she means possibly an entire display of violence,” Wanda teased, but her eyes held a protective glint.

You laughed nervously, appreciating the concern. “I—I don’t think that’ll be necessary. Bucky’s so gentle. But...thank you, just the same.”

Natasha nodded firmly. “We look out for our own. And that includes you.”

Your heart swelled at the sentiment—so this was what a supportive sisterly bond could be, untainted by destruction and usurpation. After some final adjustments (Natasha insisted on adjusting your collar just so, and Wanda fussed with a stray hair you couldn’t see), the two women gave you a double thumbs-up.

“Go knock him dead—figuratively,” Wanda teased. “This is Earth, after all.” Halfway to the front entrance, you glanced back and caught a glimpse of Wanda and Natasha standing side by side, exchanging soft smiles. Wanda murmured something, and Natasha’s cheeks tinted the faintest pink before she turned away.

Maybe I’m not the only one with a new romance on the horizon, you mused, feeling a rush of fondness for both of them.

When you finally reached the main entrance, there was Bucky—hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders tense. The moment his eyes landed on you, all that tension melted. A slow, disbelieving smile spread across his face, and you swore you saw a slight flush creep up his neck.

“Wow,” he breathed, stepping closer. “You look amazing.”

Your cheeks warmed, but this time it was with genuine confidence. “Thanks. Wanda and Nat helped.”

He nodded, seemingly at a loss for words. “Remind me to, uh…thank them later.”

You chuckled softly. “I’ll let them know.”

The two of you exchanged a few shy glances, the air charged with a thrilling sense of possibility. Bucky offered his arm in that old-fashioned way you found so endearing, and you slipped yours through it, feeling a jolt of warmth as your elbow linked with his. “You ready?” he asked, voice tinged with nervous excitement.

You smiled. “I am.”