#Tony stark x toddler reader

[sk1bidi-n1k0-e4ts-people]

My little y/n Dad!Tony stark x daughter!reader

summary: tonys favorite nickname out of all of them, my little y/n.

warnings: none :))

A/N: @white-wolf-buckaroo said that I should make this in a comment on ap post, here you go 🤗 also this is another toddler years fic! Y/n is 3-4 here

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Tony definitely had his favorites when it came to nicknames, one being my little y/n. He would use it all the time.

"Daddy?" You said as he walked by your door in the hall. Hoping to get his attention given that you had just had a nightmare.

"Y/n? yes baby"

"I had a nightmare, can you stay with me?" Without a word, tony scooped you into his arms, rocking you back and forth slowly, even though you were completely calm.

Regardless, you still clung to him, turning around so that he could cradle you like a baby, you holding onto him as if he was a lifeline.

Once tony got a better grip on you, he stood up, walking to his bedroom so that through the night you could both be comforted by each other. He sat down on the king sized bed, before laying back, you resting on his chest.

"Dont worry My little y/n, daddys got you" he said reaching for the blanket, covering the two of you.

"I love it when you call me that" you mumbled into his shoulder, tony patting you on the back before gently caressing your hair. Turning to lay on his side, he held you to his chest, you relaxed at the feeling of his warmth. Listening to his heartbeat.

"I love you daddy"

"I love you too, My little y/n"

With that you both fell asleep, peacefully.

Tags

@animealways // @white-wolf-buckaroo // @tonystark-au // @yummyangy // @zebralover //

[teddypines]

Nighttime Troubles

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Summary: Y/N having trouble sleeping with out their dad while their other parents try to calm them down and get Tony back in bed.

Note: Gn!Reader, around 3 years old. Yes Soap is the name of her sheep plushie, because i love my Soapie to much and he needed to be in my story.

Art/picture is from Pinterest, credits go to whoever made it. I just put it together like this.

Translations: Dorogoy = Sweetheart (And expensive, for some reason, if you know why this is please tell me. Translate is weird.)

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Y/N was having a rough couple of nights, the nightmares they had were getting too much for their little mind. Feeling so many big feelings and seeing scary things in their dreams. This didn’t bother the Avengers however, they all loved the little koala. Their koala was a bit of all of them. Their little miracle in life, their light. After defeating Loki everything went pretty fast for the Avengers and just 2 years later they got married, all 6 of them (Tony bribed the minister and the person that would approve the paperwork) and in 2015 their little koala was born. 

Natasha was walking Y/N around the master bedroom, shushing them as she bounced them a bit in her arms. “shhhh, Dorogoy, it’s okay momma is here. No more nightmares, shhh.” She whispered to the little one as Thor came back into the room with a few extra plushies from Y/N’s room. “I didn’t know which one they would want, so i got them all.” Clint laughed a bit and grabbed the little sheep plushie from the stack in Thor’s arm. “This one, Soap, remember this one Thor. Soap is the favorite.” Natasha rolled her eyes and kissed Y/N’s cheeks.

After a few minutes Steve was done warming up Y/N’s bottle and quickly made his way back to the bedroom. “Any progress?” He asked worriedly as he handed Natasha the bottle. “No, not yet, Bruce is still trying to get Tony to come to bed, but he’s probably dealing with his own nightmares.” Clint answered. They all knew that Y/N slept the best between Bruce and Tony. Probably because they liked being in a science sandwich and Bruce and Tony were the warmest out of the parents. Natasha yawned as she sat down on the bed with Y/N. “Thor? Do you still have that story book somewhere? that one with both folktales and fairytales?” She asked, hoping that reading to Y/N would calm them down.

“Yes! I’ll grab it and read to the little one!” Thor cheered as he walked over to the book shelf and grabbed the book Natasha mentioned. He went to the bed and sat next to Natasha and Y/N before starting to read in the soft tone he only used with Y/N. “This one is called ‘The Forest Bride’. There was once a farmer who had three sons,” Thor read to Y/N, and secretly Natasha. Y/N wasn't crying anymore as they suckled on their bottle while listening to Thor reading their favorite story. 

Steve and Clint smiled at the three of them on the bed. “I’ll go check on Bruce and Tony.” Steve said before stepping away from Clint. Sadly Steve jinxed it, Bruce walked into the bedroom. Clint gave Bruce a worried look and opened his arms for him. Bruce walked defeated into Clint’s arms. “I tried, he just won’t listen to me right now. He’s scared to go to bed and then hurt Y/N if he wakes up” Bruce explained quietly. Steve sighed. “I'm going to talk to him, this is the biggest load of bull shit i’ve ever heard, and that is saying a lot.” he fumed before leaving the bedroom. 

Bruce looked over at the bed and saw Natasha asleep against Thor with Y/N on her lap. Thor was still reading the story to their koala. Clint looked down at Bruce. “Wanna go sit with them?” Bruce nodded and Clint smiled as he helped Bruce to the bed. He made sure Natasha, Bruce and Y/N were okay with Thor, who was now happily reading the next story in the book, before following after Steve.

When Clint was close to the lab he could hear Steve and Tony yelling at each other. He walked around the corner and saw Tony tinkering on one of his suites while Steve yelled from Bruce’s desk. 

“Just don’t Steve, just don’t, okay? I am not going to bed!” Tony hissed as he slammed down his screwdriver. “No, I won't let you stay up like this. You have to sleep, you need sleep to function. How are you supposed to take care of yourself or Y/N if you are not sleeping, not well rested. You know it's safe in the bedroom, you know you won’t hurt us or Y/N. You know damn well that you are just running away right now!” Before Steve could say more Clint put a hand on his back and gave him a look. 

Tony looked over at Steve when he didn’t continue his rant. He saw Clint by Steve's side, he let out a big sigh before responding. “I think I know my own health better than you do Star Spangled Banner. Now leave me alone! I do not need this! I do not need sleep. I do not need you, or anyone else to take care of me! I am fine!” He yelled at both his husbands. He didn’t need them, didn't need to be told he wasn't actually doing fine, but even with a few years of therapy and loving partners, Tony could still fall back into old habits. 

Clint tried to reach out for Tony, tried to tell him he was wrong but yelling came from the hallway before he could. A very angry Natasha, followed by Thor and Bruce came Into the lab. Y/N in her arms. “Anthony Edward Stark! Hold your child!” She hissed before handing Y/N over to Tony. Y/N reached out for Tony and he reluctantly took them from Natasha. “Daddy…” Y/N whispered into Tony's shoulder. This broke Tony a bit, not just a bit, but more than he liked to admit.

“I… I think I might need some help… And Someone to take care of me and take me too bed…” Tony admits as he held the little koala. Natasha smiled and grabbed onto Tony's arms. “Let's get you two to bed. Thor will continue his story and you two can cuddle with Bruce. We'll deal with the rest tomorrow” Natasha said before leading Tony away from his work.

Soon after both Y/N and Tony were on the big bed. Thor reads more of his stories to Y/N, and the others. As Bruce held Tony close with Y/N in between their science sandwich. Y/N was already fast asleep when Thor finished the first story. With Natasha following shortly after. Clint was the next one to fall asleep, somewhere between story three and four, happily in Steve’s arms. Thor fell asleep while reading after Steve fell asleep. But Tony stayed awake, like Bruce. Him keeping an eye on Tony. 

“Want to talk about it?” Bruce asked Tony, he was worried. “Not right now. Is that okay? we will talk about this later?” Tony answered to which Bruce pulled him closer, letting Tony be the little spoon. “Yeah, that is okay. But we are going to talk about this, because we are worried and want to help you, because we love you. Just like we love this little koala.” Bruce said before fixing Y/N’s hair a bit. “Just let us help you like you always want to help them.” Tony nodded his head slowly before kissing Y/N’s head. “We’ll talk after I slept for more than 6 hours.”

“Just close your eyes” Bruce whispered before he felt a small kick against his back. “Go to sleep” Steve whisper yelled tiredly. Y/N hugged Tony’s arm and snored a bit as Bruce and Tony finally closed their eyes to sleep.

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Somewhere in the middle of the night Soap, the sheep plushie, fell out of the bed. This was quickly noticed by Y/N who started to wiggle out of the science sandwich. they crawled to the end of the bed and reached over the end towards Soap. they almost had the plushie before losing balance. With a small thud they fell off the bed and hit their bum on the floor. 

Loud crying woke everyone but Clint, he didn’t wake up since he didn't have his hearing aid on. Yes he forgot to take them out after falling asleep next to Thor and the battery was now dead. Steve was the first to get to Y/N he picked up the little one and the sheep. “shhh, baby doll, it’s okay. Daddy is here, shhh, you’re safe in daddy’s arms.” Steve whispered to Y/N. Thor shifted over to Steve and Y/N and carefully took them from Steve. He gently put Y/N underneath his nightshirt and held them and Soap against his chest.

Thor always thought Y/N was given extra sensitive and given bigger emotions by the gods then normal people, or Asgardians. They were he’s sensitive little angel, who needed a lot of touch to feel safe and deal with the big emotions and feelings. “There we go little poptart. Nice and warm with pappa, no one can hurt you here.” Thor rubbed Y/N’s back as he took them back to the bed. Steve smiled at Thor and how comfortable Y/N looked against him. “Owh look at you, are you comfy with pappa?” Natasha asked the sleepy toddler when Thor lay down next to her. Y/N nodded their head and stuck their thumb into their mouth.

“So no need for a science sandwich anymore I see. Well i'll be back in the lab if you all need me” Tony announced and tried to walk past Bruce and Steve. Only for Steve to grab Tony by his shirt collar and pulls him back towards him and Bruce. “You need sleep, Tony. Back in bed.” Steve said in a stern but caring tone. “Or what?” Tony tried. “Or I will lock the lab and you won’t be able to go in until we think you can go in again. No more new Ironman suites or weird nicknacks. No more Peter Parker coming over for his ‘internship’.” Steve answered. The thing about not doing fun science things with Peter did it and Tony walked back to the bed. Tony liked (Loved) Peter too much, some might say he was his son. 

Bruce and Steve made it back to the bed and lay down besides the others. Y/N was already fast asleep again underneath Thor’s shirt. Clint was still asleep and snoring as Natasha cuddled up to him. The others pulled the covers back up and snuggled up before going back to sleep. Tony did try to sneak out of bed again once when he thought everyone was sleeping. only for Steve to pull Tony back onto the bed and hold him against him.

[elizabethsnuts]

winterwidows daughter having a full blown argument with Tony bcs only Tony would argue with a 3 year old

Toddler Showdown

WinterWidow x Daughter!Reader

Summary: You get into a fight with your Uncle Tony

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The storm raged outside of the Avengers Tower, Tony and Y/N sat on the floor of the Avengers Lounge, drawing pictures and chatting. It didn’t take long for an argument to break out.

You stood her ground, hands on your hips, glaring up at Tony with all the determination you could muster. "No, Uncle Tony! I want the red crayon, not the blue one!" you declared, your tiny voice carrying surprising authority.

Tony raised an eyebrow, amused yet undeterred by the pint-sized challenger before him. "Well, Y/N, you see, the thing is, the blue crayon matches your eyes much better," he countered, his trademark smirk playing on his lips.

You scrunched up her face, unimpressed. "I don't care about my eyes, Mr. Fancy Pants. I want the red one!" you insisted with a yell, your tone dripping with sass.

Tony sighed, leaning down to your level and speaking with an irritated down. "Listen, kid, I've got a whole collection of Stark Industries crayons here, and trust me, the red one is so last season. You're better off with the blue. It's more... avant-garde."

You narrowed your eyes, unyielding. "Stop using big words, Uncle Tony! No one cares about your avo-garden!" you retorted, an annoyed and angry glint dancing in your eyes.

Tony shook his head, his huffing blending with the amused chuckles of nearby Avengers who had gathered to witness the spectacle. "Hey Y/N, that’s not nice, you can’t speak to me that way. I’m older and you are three therefore, you listen to me," he said in a tone that said he was done with the situation, he started taking her the red crayon with a gentle tug. "Mark my words, one day you'll appreciate the finer things in life."

You snatched back the crayon with a victorious grin, your triumph was evident on your face and proudly displayed as you showed your prize to your parents, who watched with equal parts amusement and pride.

Natasha and Bucky exchanged amused glances, impressed at their daughter's feisty spirit. "Looks like she takes after both of us," Natasha remarked, her eyes twinkling with affection.

Bucky chuckled and knelt down to your level. "Did you take that from Uncle Tony?" he asked nodding towards Tony, who was now standing up, shaking his head and crossing his arms.

You nodded your head with a proud smile. “Yes, Daddy! I got the red!” You cheered with an excitement only a toddler could have about a crayon.

You ran back over to Tony and stuck your tongue out at him. “I got the reddd! I got the reddd!” You said in a teasing voice and giggled as you sat back down at the table.

However, the arguments were far from over as you both engaged in a lively debate about the merits of finger painting versus crayon drawing.

As the argument raged on, Natasha and Bucky couldn't smirk from their spot on the couch, they knew it was just harmless arguments that wouldn’t affect each other's bond but they couldn’t help but admit they were always amusing to watch.

[wandascrush]

Let the light in

Summary: The Avengers are separated after being hunted down and forced to live life on the low, causing a painful break up with the love of your life. What happens when she finds you again? Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader

A/N: Based off of this request

Warnings: Angst, violence, loneliness, blood, breakup, team separated, depression, kissing, comfort

Song: Let the light in- Lana Del Rey

The team sat around the dark living room, the familiar voice of one of New York's most famous news anchors echoing in through the air, “Good evening New Yorkers, today we open our headline with some shocking news:  Former Stark enterprise building, located on the upper east side, exploded earlier today by a missile attack on the Avengers. Sources say Tony Stark was currently using it to house new plans for an updated Avengers training arena and larger compound.  Two architects, three investors, and one security manager was injured. Two of the victims later succumbed to their injuries after the explosion. Reports confirming the source of the violence are still unknown, however the Avengers were believed to have been inside the building at the time- hence the attack. The founding members of the Avengers Initiative such as Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Thor Odinson, Y/N L/N, and Clint Barton have yet to speak out. This marks the second targeted attack on our world’s heroes in nearly a month since the Maximoff twins incident in Barbados, where Pietro Maximoff was nearly assassinated. It raises the question for us all: Are our heroes being hunted?” 

The screen went black, bye bye news lady. The room was so silent you could hear a pin drop. “What’re we gonna do Tony?” You got no answer. 

 “Cap?”  

For the first time in the decade you’d known the team, (except for the Maximoffs & Peter) you saw uncertainty in all of their eyes. Tony threw his classic sunglasses on the couch, squeezing the middle of his nose in a useless attempt to massage an oncoming headache away, “Fury… thought it’d be wise if we split up for awhile-,” he was quickly shut up with protests from the group.

“It’s too dangerous. This isn't easy for me, but we're facing a threat that's beyond anything we've encountered before. I've crunched the numbers, run simulations – the Avengers need to disband temporarily. We scatter, go off the grid, and regroup when the dust settles.”

“This is bullshit, Tony. You know it is. This is exactly what they want-” 

“Tasha,” your gentle touch on her back always softened her heart, but not today. She didn’t even look at you. 

“It’s not the end, Nat. It’s like a strategic retreat. We're ensuring we'll live to fight another day. For once, I’m with Stark on this. We play it safe, keep low profiles, and spread out,” Steve sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees and taking a hard look at everyone, “we’re family, we keep each other safe. And this is how we do it.” 

As much as the idea made your stomach churn, he was right. He always was. This was your family. Every holiday, happy memory, laugh and cry and battle and bruise was all with them. This team is how you met the love of your life. You loved each other, and if this is what needed to happen, then you’d do it. 

But that didn’t sit well with your girlfriend. 

“No, end of story. We’re not separating.”

“You know I don’t think it’s just you’re choice, Natasha. I mean we have to decide this together,” your fingers lightly brushed the edge of the bed, nervously playing with the soft sheets you had just bought.

“Exactly, and I. Said. No.” She was acting like a stubborn toddler that didn’t want to eat her veggies, crossing her arms and raising her voice an octave.

It was then when you saw something different in her eyes, those beautiful green orbs that held so much sadness and joy at the same time. But today they were cloudy, like a storm was brewing in her mind. You gently slipped off of the bed and stood in front of her, pressing your forehead to hers, “You know it’s going to be okay, right?” soft palms caressed the side of her cheek, immediately feeling her sigh into your touch. “It’s going to be okay, you’ll see.” You wish your words were true. 

    Two months later the Avengers were spreading out all across the U.S., saying choked up goodbyes and packing your things. It was agreed upon that there’d be a team meeting once a month, every month, for the next year until you could figure out who the threat was, and how to eliminate them. You thought San Francisco sounded nice, fresh, and a little more peaceful than the hustle and bustle of New York. And it was, for a time. You got a haircut, dyed your gorgeous h/c locks to a rich h/c shade. You bought a sweet little home with a bay window over looking the Golden Gate Bridge, started building an in home gym and library, and kept an extremely low profile. You finished file work and other Avengers paperwork at home, with a high security grade laptop. Natasha on the other hand, refused to dye her hair, or keep a low profile. She didn’t want to admit that she was depressed, but it was glaringly oblivious. Being thrown out of her comforting routine put a wrench in Natasha’s life that not even you, her beautiful girl, could fix. All day she would do her paperwork, workout, and just keep to herself. It was like you weren’t even girlfriends anymore. Finally, in the fifth month of living “undercover,” she finally agreed to go on a low key date with you to a small, cozy bar on the outskirts of the city. You got dressed up for the first time in what felt like forever, did your makeup real pretty, and even did braids on Natasha’s silky hair. She looked happy, finally. Adorning a brown leather jacket, dark blue jeans, and a low cut green top- her classic silver arrow necklace sitting pretty on her chest- your girlfriend looked like her old self again...absolutely perfect. 

“You look gorgeous, baby,” swift arms swept you into a gentle kiss, smirking against your lips and pulling you close to her waist. 

You thought that night would be perfect, but by 11 pm you two were home and icing her bloody knuckles, static tv voices echoing in the background. You felt hot tears rising to the surface, but you never let them fall. It’s not like you were just mad or angry or disappointed…no this was something more. You were embarrassed. Embarrassed by Natasha. You thought you’d never say that sentence, but then there you were, apologizing to the bartender for your girlfriend's rowdy behavior, and throwing $20 to the guy she completely knocked out before nearly carrying her out of the bar and into a cab. Within the next two weeks she packed her bags, and your home was changing once again, now empty. 

  8 months later 

    The team said that you’d only be separated for a year, or less, but you were coming up on a year pretty soon and none of you were any closer to figuring out who the threat is. But you, you moved on, strived forward, and kept going. Your breakup with Nat had been one of the most painful moments of your life, but you didn’t let it stop you. These days you hardly cried over her at all, never even thought of the old days. Well, except for last Tuesday, when you saw one of her old sweaters and lied in bed for the rest of the day, or on Thursday when you heard her favorite song and- well, never mind that. You were at the top of your fucking game. 

  Ms. Romanoff, on the other hand, had moved out of San Francisco completely and settled in Washington D.C. from the last you heard. She attended the monthly zooms, same as you, but you two never addressed one another. Natasha pushed all of the heartbreak she harbored deep, deep down until she would lie down for bed and reach out next to her…but you were never there. 

[amethystarachnid]

30. Holiday Movie Night with the Avengers (or X-Men) – The Avengers decide to have a Christmas movie marathon for the whole family. Your character is skeptical about the cheesy movies, but what happens when they get caught up in the holiday spirit?

My character is Tony Stark, please, and I'm a female reader ❤️ I was thinking that maybe they are best friends, and seeing how happy the reader is watching those movies, he'll realize he has feelings for her and in the next day he'll invite her to a date inspired in some movie scene and tell her he loves her and ask her to be his girlfriend and she'll say yes because she loves him too, and please, lots of kisses 🤭 ohh, and they can turn "watching movies" into their cute little tradition too 😊

Thank you 😊

MOVIE NIGHT & KISSES

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

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

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.7k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

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 living room of the Avengers compound looks like a Christmas card threw up all over it. Tony’s doing, obviously. You step inside, arms loaded with snacks—because you don’t trust Tony not to have stocked up exclusively on the weird gourmet stuff no one likes—and immediately trip over a tiny reindeer statue.

“Why?” you ask the air. Tony’s voice floats down the hallway before his actual appearance.

“Why what? Be more specific, or I’ll assume you’re asking why I’m fabulous.”

You roll your eyes and dump your cargo of chips, popcorn, and candy on the coffee table. “Why is there a deer the size of a toddler lying in wait for my ankles? It’s assault.”

Tony finally enters, grinning like he’s just pulled off a massive heist instead of, you know, redecorating. “You mean Blitzen? He’s festive. And you should really watch where you’re walking. Consider it a training exercise.”

“Blitzen,” you deadpan, already fishing around for scissors to open the snack bags. “You named the little menace Blitzen.”

“Of course, I did. What do you take me for, a savage? Anyway, what’s that—Pringles? Ugh, so pedestrian. Don’t worry, I’ve got foie gras chips in the kitchen.”

“Tony, no,” you say, cutting him off. “No one’s eating foie gras anything during movie night.”

“Fine. Keep your proletariat palate,” he huffs, but there’s no bite to it as he snags a bag of M&Ms and flops onto the couch like it’s claimed him.

The others start trickling in soon after, voices overlapping in that chaotic yet strangely comfortable way you’ve come to expect from these gatherings. Natasha is the first to spot the reindeer and gives you a knowing look.

“You trip over that thing yet?” she asks.

“Blitzen almost ended me,” you confirm, earning a snort.

“Is Tony naming inanimate objects again?” Steve asks, clearly trying and failing to hide a smile as he surveys the chaos.

“Not just naming them,” you say, gesturing at the garlands, twinkling lights, and a giant Santa hat perched on one corner of the TV. “He’s created an entire ecosystem.”

Thor, arriving last but with the biggest entrance, spots the reindeer and scoops it up like it’s an actual living thing. “What a curious creature!” he declares, cradling it as though it might respond. “May I keep it?”

“Absolutely not,” Tony says, looking horrified. “Blitzen is part of the ambiance.”

You try not to laugh, but it bubbles out anyway, and Tony shoots you a mock glare. “This is the respect I get from my so-called best friend? Unbelievable.”

“Your ‘best friend’ just saved movie night from foie gras chips, so I think I’ve earned the right to laugh,” you retort, throwing yourself onto the couch next to him.

The movie selection process devolves into chaos, as usual. Clint tries to sneak in a Christmas horror movie, Natasha threatens to walk out if it’s not something at least tolerable, and Steve insists on something “classic,” which somehow leads to a passionate argument over whether Die Hard qualifies as a Christmas movie.

Through it all, Tony leans closer to you, voice low. “If this debate goes on for another five minutes, I say we hijack the remote and put on Iron Man 3. Christmas and a superhero. Win-win.”

You snort, nudging him with your shoulder. “Tempting, but I don’t think your ego could survive the fallout.”

“Oh, please,” he replies, tossing an arm over the back of the couch—dangerously close to your shoulders, but you don’t mind. “My ego’s indestructible.”

Eventually, the group settles on a compromise: Home Alone, mostly because Thor declares he’s never seen it and everyone agrees watching his reactions will be worth it.

As the opening credits roll, Tony leans closer. “This is cozy,” he says, a bit quieter than usual. His fingers graze yours on the couch, almost hesitant.

It’s a small moment, but it feels like the beginning of something. You glance at him, catching his slight smirk and the way his eyes flick toward the screen—but not before they linger on you just a second too long.

“Yeah,” you reply, smiling despite yourself. “It is.”

Kevin McCallister’s family is in full-on holiday chaos, and Thor is already narrating everything happening on screen like it’s the most thrilling battle sequence he’s ever witnessed.

“This small one is quite cunning,” Thor declares as Kevin rigs up a rudimentary alarm system using toy cars and string. “His enemies shall rue the day they underestimated him!”

“Thor, buddy,” Clint says between mouthfuls of popcorn, “we’re ten minutes in. The burglars haven’t even shown up yet.”

“Then they are fools!” Thor retorts, clutching the reindeer statue—Blitzen—to his chest like a comfort object. “He will outwit them with his warrior’s guile.”

Tony leans closer to you, and you can feel the warmth of him even before he murmurs, “You ever feel like we’re babysitting a very excitable golden retriever?”

You laugh, low and quiet. “A golden retriever with lightning powers. No pressure.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest where his arm is still casually draped over the back of the couch. You don’t even notice when his fingers start to toy idly with the fabric of your sleeve.

The movie continues, and Thor’s commentary only grows more dramatic. When Kevin sets up his elaborate booby traps, Thor sits up straighter, his eyes gleaming with admiration.

“A master tactician!” he declares, and when Kevin’s paint can swings down the stairs to clobber one of the burglars, Thor actually roars with laughter. “A fine blow! Truly, this child deserves to sit at the table of warriors!”

Natasha leans toward you, whispering just loud enough for you and Tony to hear. “We should tell Thor that Kevin’s real superpower is abandonment issues.”

Tony snorts into his drink, and you elbow him lightly. “Be nice,” you say, even though you’re stifling your own laughter.

The movie progresses, and somewhere between Kevin faking a party with mannequins and setting Harry’s head on fire, you start to shift closer to Tony without even realizing it. It’s not a conscious thing—you just naturally lean toward the warmth of him, especially when his arm slides from the back of the couch to drape over your shoulders.

You think it’s just Tony being Tony—he’s always been a tactile kind of guy, quick with a casual touch or a teasing nudge—but you don’t notice the way he freezes for half a second before relaxing again, his fingers brushing lightly against your upper arm.

The truth is, Tony’s barely paying attention to the movie anymore. He’s too busy fighting the sudden, overwhelming realization that he’s completely, undeniably in love with you. It hits him somewhere between Thor’s boisterous laughter and the way your hair catches the soft glow of the Christmas lights strung across the room.

He’s Tony Stark. He’s built suits that fly, survived impossible odds, and traded snark with gods—but the idea of telling you how he feels? That terrifies him.

So, instead, he lets himself have this moment. He lets himself enjoy the way you’re snuggled against his side, your head resting lightly against his shoulder, your laughter bright and unguarded as you watch the movie.

You, of course, are blissfully unaware of the internal crisis unfolding next to you. You’re too busy giggling at Thor’s indignant outrage when one of the burglars steps on a nail.

“That would never pierce true Asgardian steel!” Thor exclaims, pounding the arm of the couch for emphasis. “These mortal feet are most fragile.”

“It’s a movie, big guy,” Clint says, tossing a popcorn kernel in Thor’s direction. “You’re supposed to suspend disbelief.”

Thor catches the kernel mid-air with surprising grace and pops it into his mouth. “A strange custom,” he mutters, but he settles back down, still cradling Blitzen.

As the movie nears its climax, you shift slightly, tucking your legs up onto the couch. Without thinking, you rest your head more firmly against Tony’s shoulder, and his arm tightens around you just a fraction.

“This is nice,” you murmur, half to yourself.

“Yeah,” Tony replies, his voice softer than you’re used to hearing. “It is.”

He doesn’t look at the screen. He doesn’t need to. The way you fit against him, the way your laughter feels like the warmest part of the room—that’s all he cares about. But he’s Tony Stark, so he masks it with a quip. “Although I’m starting to feel personally attacked by how much Kevin loves duct tape.”

You laugh, swatting at his chest lightly. “If the suit fits…”

“I’ll have you know duct tape is a versatile and invaluable tool,” he says, grinning down at you. “It’s like me—underappreciated but indispensable.”

Natasha, who’s apparently been paying more attention to you two than the movie, leans over again. “You two gonna make it through the night without bickering like an old married couple, or should we set up counseling now?”

Tony doesn’t miss a beat. “I’d make an excellent husband, for the record.”

You roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks warm inexplicably. “Good to know, Tony. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He smirks, but there’s a flicker of something softer in his expression, something almost vulnerable, before he masks it with his usual bravado.

By the time the movie ends and Kevin’s family finally comes home, Thor is on his feet, applauding like he’s just witnessed the greatest cinematic masterpiece of all time.

“A truly glorious tale!” he declares. “The boy is a hero of the highest caliber. I must share this story with the warriors of Asgard.”

Steve claps Thor on the back, clearly trying not to laugh. “I’m sure they’ll love it, big guy.”

The group starts to disperse after that, everyone gathering up their plates and drinks and muttering goodnights. Tony’s still sitting with you on the couch, his arm loose around your shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“You staying?” he asks casually, but there’s a note of something more in his voice.

“Yeah,” you reply, smiling up at him. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

He grins, and for a moment, you think there’s something different in his eyes—something softer, warmer—but then he’s back to his usual self, teasing you about stealing the good spot on the couch.

Neither of you moves, though. The others leave, the credits roll, and the room quiets, but you and Tony stay there, comfortably tangled together under the glow of the Christmas lights.

You sit at the small kitchen table in your apartment, cradling a mug of coffee and scrolling through your phone. The morning sunlight streams through the window, catching on the tiny particles of dust floating lazily in the air. It’s quiet, peaceful, a welcome contrast to the loud, boisterous chaos of movie night at the compound. You’re mid-sip when your phone buzzes with a message, and you glance down to see the sender: “Tin Can Man 🚀🛠️.”

Tony. Of course.

You smirk to yourself—he hates that nickname, which makes it all the more satisfying that it’s what you’ve saved him as. Opening the message, you find it’s short and to the point.

Tin Can Man 🚀🛠️: Hey, you free tonight?

Your eyebrows raise. Not a “good morning” or even a “hope you survived Blitzen.” Classic Tony, straight to the point. You type back quickly.

You: What’s it to you, Stark?

The response comes almost immediately.

Tin Can Man 🚀🛠️: Just answer the question, smartass.

You laugh into your coffee, shaking your head. It’s too early for this.

You: Yeah, I’m free. Why?

This time, there’s a slight pause before his next message comes through.

Tin Can Man 🚀🛠️: Good. I’m picking you up at 7. Wear something nice.

You nearly choke on your coffee.

You: Excuse me? What is this?

Tin Can Man 🚀🛠️: It’s called dinner. People eat it.

You: Are you bribing me with food?

Tin Can Man 🚀🛠️: No, I’m taking you to a restaurant.

You: Is this a date, Stark?

You’re joking—mostly—but the reply that pops up a moment later makes you freeze.

Tin Can Man 🚀🛠️: Yeah.

You blink at the screen, half expecting the words to rearrange themselves into something less earth-shattering. They don’t.

You: Seriously?

Three dots appear, disappear, and then reappear. Somewhere across town, you know Tony is staring at his phone with the same level of panic you’re feeling.

Tin Can Man 🚀🛠️: Yeah. Seriously.

Your heart stumbles into a gallop, and you stare at the phone, the words it’s a date looping in your mind like a broken record. You’re equal parts thrilled and terrified, your stomach doing flips like it’s auditioning for the circus. You’ve always known Tony flirts with anything that moves, but this… this feels different.

You: Okay. I’ll be ready.

You don’t know how you manage to type it without your hands shaking. On the other side of the city, Tony is probably sweating bullets, wondering if he’s just ruined everything. But as you set your phone down and glance at the clock, the only thing you can think is, Oh, God. I have nothing to wear.

By the time you’ve finished your breakfast, you’re mentally cataloging your closet and deciding nothing in it will do. You know Tony well enough to know that when he says “wear something nice,” he doesn’t mean a cute sweater and jeans. No, he’ll have picked some ridiculously fancy place where the appetizers cost more than your electric bill.

The afternoon turns into a whirlwind of trying on every remotely elegant outfit you own. The black dress? Too basic. The navy one? No, that’s what you wore to Natasha’s birthday last year. The red one? It’s a showstopper, sure, but is it too much?

You eventually settle on a dress you haven’t worn in ages—a deep emerald green number that fits like it was tailored just for you. Pairing it with heels and some understated jewelry, you give yourself one last critical look in the mirror.

“Not bad,” you mutter to your reflection, though the butterflies in your stomach are anything but calm.

By the time 7 o’clock rolls around, you’re pacing your apartment, trying not to overthink every detail. You’ve spent the entire day replaying Tony’s text messages, dissecting every word, and now you’re a bundle of nerves.

The buzz of your phone breaks the silence, and you check it to see another message from Tin Can Man.

Tin Can Man 🚀🛠️: I’m downstairs.

Grabbing your coat and bag, you take a deep breath, steeling yourself. When you step outside, there he is, leaning casually against a sleek black car that looks like it costs more than your apartment building. He’s dressed impeccably, of course—dark suit, crisp shirt, no tie, but the top button undone just enough to scream effortless charm.

“You clean up well,” you say, trying to sound more composed than you feel.

Tony’s gaze sweeps over you, and for a moment, he doesn’t reply. His usual smirk softens into something you can’t quite place, something that makes your heart skip a beat.

“You look… wow,” he says finally, and it’s so un-Tony-like that you can’t help but laugh.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Stark.”

He grins, holding the car door open for you with a flourish. “Your chariot awaits, milady.”

As you slide into the car, you wonder if Tony’s as nervous as you are. If he is, he hides it well. But when he gets behind the wheel, you notice his grip on the steering wheel is just a little tighter than usual.

Neither of you says much during the drive, but the air is charged with something unspoken. When you arrive at the restaurant—a place so fancy it doesn’t even have a sign—you turn to Tony, arching an eyebrow.

“Subtle,” you tease, gesturing at the valet waiting to park the car.

Tony shrugs, smirking. “What can I say? I have a reputation to uphold.”

Inside, the restaurant is even more extravagant than you expected. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and the soft hum of a piano drifts through the air. You’re suddenly very aware of how out of your element you feel, but Tony, ever the smooth talker, leads you to a table like he owns the place.

The evening unfolds in a blur of good food, light banter, and moments where you catch Tony looking at you with an expression that makes your cheeks warm. By the time dessert arrives, you’re no longer nervous—you’re just happy.

And maybe falling for your best friend wasn’t such a crazy idea after all.

The restaurant is a swirl of elegance and opulence. You sit at a cozy, candlelit table near a window that offers a breathtaking view of the city skyline. The warm glow of the chandeliers dances off the pristine silverware, and the soft murmur of conversations fills the air like a melody. Across from you, Tony looks uncharacteristically calm—at least on the surface.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Stark,” you say, gesturing to the impeccably arranged plate in front of you. It’s some kind of artistically deconstructed dish that looks almost too pretty to eat. Almost.

“Outdoing myself is my specialty,” he replies with a wink, swirling the wine in his glass. But there’s something in his eyes, a flicker of nervousness he’s trying hard to hide.

The conversation flows easily as the courses arrive one by one. You talk about everything and nothing—the latest Avengers antics, your recent binge of terrible reality TV, and Tony’s latest tech project, which involves an overly ambitious plan to automate coffee-making robots.

“And how’s that working out?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugs, grinning. “Let’s just say I’ve destroyed two espresso machines and one microwave. But progress is progress.”

You laugh, the sound filling the small bubble the two of you have created. There’s a moment of quiet, the kind that feels comfortable and loaded at the same time. Tony’s gaze lingers on you, and you suddenly feel warm, the candlelight only adding to the effect.

“What?” you ask, your voice softer now.

“Nothing,” he says quickly, looking away for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “Just… you look happy. I like it.”

You blink, your heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his tone. Tony Stark doesn’t do sentimental—not usually. But tonight, there’s something different about him, something almost vulnerable.

When dessert is served—a rich chocolate creation that looks like it belongs in a museum—Tony leans back in his chair, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

“So,” he says, “you’re enjoying yourself?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t,” you reply, taking a bite of the dessert. “This is probably the fanciest dinner I’ve ever had.”

His smirk widens. “Good. Because the date hasn’t even started yet.”

You freeze mid-bite, narrowing your eyes at him. “What do you mean, hasn’t started? Tony, we’re literally on a date right now.”

He stands, tossing a few bills onto the table to cover the check—because of course he doesn’t wait for the server. Extending a hand to you, he says, “Trust me, sweetheart. This was just the warm-up.”

Curiosity and excitement war in your chest as you let him lead you out of the restaurant and back to the car. Once you’re settled in, he glances at you, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face.

“Just… keep an open mind, okay?” he says, his voice quieter now.

“Tony Stark, what are you up to?”

“You’ll see,” he replies, his usual confidence tinged with something you can’t quite place.

The car ride is a blur, and when he finally pulls up to your next destination, your jaw drops.

The scene before you looks like something straight out of a movie—your favorite movie, to be exact. It’s an outdoor setting, lit by dozens of string lights and lanterns. A small, charming gazebo sits in the center, surrounded by fairy lights that twinkle like stars. There’s a vintage record player set up, softly playing the theme from the movie you’ve watched more times than you can count.

“Tony…” you whisper, stepping out of the car. “How did you—”

He shrugs, but there’s a hint of nervousness in his posture. “You mentioned it once. Something about how you thought this was the perfect date, so… I figured I’d give it a shot.”

You turn to him, your heart swelling so much it feels like it might burst. “You did this for me?”

“Yeah, well, don’t make a big deal out of it,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “I just wanted it to be… special.”

“Tony,” you breathe, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face. “It’s perfect.”

He visibly relaxes at your words, his shoulders dropping a fraction. Taking your hand, he leads you toward the gazebo, where a small table is set with two glasses of champagne.

The two of you sit, the city’s bustle far away, the moment feeling almost surreal. You’re about to tease him about being a closet romantic when he stands suddenly, pacing a few steps before turning to face you.

“Okay,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. “I had this whole speech planned, but it’s probably terrible, and I’m gonna screw it up, but—”

“Tony,” you interrupt, standing and moving closer to him. “What’s going on?”

He takes a deep breath, his hands fidgeting at his sides.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he says, his words rushing out in a way that makes your heart ache for him. “And I know I’m not exactly the easiest guy to deal with, and I probably don’t deserve you, but… I love you.”

Your breath catches.

“I love you,” he repeats, his voice steadier now. “And I want to know if you’ll—if you’ll be my girlfriend.”

For a moment, you just stare at him, the world spinning and standing still all at once. He looks so uncharacteristically vulnerable, his usual bravado stripped away, and it’s the most honest, beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“Yes,” you say finally, your voice soft but sure.

His eyes widen. “Yes?”

“Yes, Tony,” you repeat, stepping closer and cupping his face in your hands. “I love you too.”

Relief floods his features, and then he’s pulling you into his arms, holding you like he’s afraid you might vanish if he lets go.

“You have no idea how much I wanted to hear that,” he murmurs against your hair.

You laugh, the sound full of joy. “You should’ve said something sooner, you idiot.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his grin finally returning. “Yeah, well, you know me. Always gotta make a scene.”

And as he leans down to kiss you, the world fades away, leaving only the warmth of his lips against yours, the twinkling lights around you, and the overwhelming feeling that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

The night sky stretches above you in all its vast, glittering glory, each star twinkling like tiny diamonds. The air is crisp but not too cold, the kind of chill that makes snuggling up feel like the best idea ever. You and Tony are still in the gazebo, but now you’re lying on a soft blanket, tucked close together, the twinkling lights overhead mixing with the stars.

Tony’s arm is wrapped around you, pulling you into his side like he doesn’t want to let go. His fingers trace light patterns along your arm, the sensation sending little shivers up your spine, though it’s not cold. It’s just him—his touch, his presence, everything about him.

You’re trying to focus on the sky, trying to keep your thoughts from wandering into how impossibly perfect this feels. The night is still, save for the soft rustling of the leaves in the trees around you, and the soft strains of the music drifting from the record player. The atmosphere feels like something out of a dream. This is a dream, right? Or maybe the best kind of reality.

“You know,” Tony says, his voice warm and full of that familiar teasing tone, “I had a whole speech planned for tonight. Thought I’d sound all suave, you know? But the second I saw you… I kinda forgot it all.”

You glance up at him, raising an eyebrow, your lips twitching into a smile. “You were going to give a speech?”

“Of course. I was gonna be all, ‘From the moment I met you, I knew you were destined to be mine,’ or something equally charming,” he replies, pretending to sound dramatic and smooth. He exaggerates the ‘destined’ part, earning a small laugh from you.

“And why didn’t you?”

Tony shrugs, giving you an exaggerated, almost childlike look. “Well, I got distracted by how ridiculously beautiful you look tonight. Didn’t really need the speech after all.”

You snort, glancing over at him. “Oh, so now you’ve forgotten how to flirt.”

“I never forget,” he says, sounding more like a proud peacock than anything else. He shifts so he’s leaning over you just a little more, his eyes gleaming mischievously. “I just use actions to back up my words, princess.”

“Oh, really?” You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep the teasing tone in your voice, but your heart is already doing little somersaults in your chest.

Before you can finish your thought, Tony leans in, placing a kiss on the tip of your nose. It’s quick, playful, but there’s something in it—something that sends warmth spreading through you from your cheeks all the way down to your toes. You giggle, brushing your nose.

“That’s how you back up your words? With nose kisses?”

“Nope.” His lips hover just above your skin, and he presses a lingering kiss to your cheek. “I like to keep you on your toes.”

You grin, feeling giddy. “Well, you’re doing a good job of that, Stark.”

You tilt your head back, letting your hair spill out behind you like a waterfall, and your lips brush against his cheek in return. His breath hitches just slightly, like he wasn’t expecting it. He turns his face toward you, and suddenly his lips are on yours, soft and warm and impossibly sweet. It’s a kiss that lingers, slow and tender, and for a moment, it feels like time stands still.

He pulls back just a fraction, his forehead resting against yours. You stay like that for a moment, eyes closed, savoring the feeling of him being so close. There’s no rush, no need for words—just the soft rhythm of breathing, the beating of two hearts that finally seem in sync.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” Tony murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

You grin, tilting your head to look up at him. “What? Because I’m capable of giving you a kiss on the cheek?”

“Oh, that’s not what I’m talking about, sweetheart,” Tony says, his voice suddenly softer, more vulnerable. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, and when he speaks again, there’s a tenderness in his voice that makes your chest tighten. “I’m talking about how you make me feel. How lucky I am to have you here. With me.”

You blink, heart flipping. “Tony…”

“Yeah,” he says, laughing under his breath. “I know I’m Tony Stark, but I’m pretty sure you’re the one who’s got me totally wrapped around your finger.” He gives you a playful wink, but there’s something more genuine behind it.

“Look at you being all sentimental,” you tease, trying to hide the growing warmth in your chest.

He narrows his eyes playfully. “I’m sentimental for you, sweetheart. Don’t get used to it.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you reply with a soft laugh. “I think I could get used to it.”

You lean up to kiss him again, a little slower this time, but just as sweet. His hands slip around your waist, pulling you closer, as if he can’t get close enough. You’re pressed so tightly together that there’s no space left, no room for any doubts or anything that isn’t him. His lips move against yours, warm and eager, but he pulls back after a moment, his nose brushing against your cheek as he lets out a deep sigh.

“You know,” Tony says, his voice low and just a little breathless, “I’ve kissed a lot of people in my time, but none of them made me feel like this.”

You smile softly, your heart fluttering in your chest. “I’m glad I’m the exception.”

“Oh, believe me,” he mutters, leaning in for another kiss, “you’re definitely the exception.”

This kiss is different—deeper, more hungry, like he can’t quite get enough. His hands move from your waist, sliding up your back to cradle your head, pulling you even closer. You respond eagerly, feeling the heat between you growing, but Tony pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes soft and full of something you can’t quite name.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice surprisingly serious.

You nod quickly. “Yeah, I’m just… overwhelmed.”

“Good overwhelmed?” He grins, his trademark cocky smirk returning.

“Very good overwhelmed,” you reply, laughing softly. “But you have a habit of kissing me senseless, Stark. You’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

He chuckles, his lips hovering near yours. “Sorry, can’t help it. You just make me so… damn happy. And I haven’t even told you how amazing you look tonight. Like, I’m seriously getting distracted just looking at you.”

You blush at the compliment, but Tony doesn’t give you much time to respond before he leans down and kisses you again, this time slower, gentler, with a lingering tenderness that makes your heart race in a different way. His lips are soft and warm, and when he pulls back, you’re both breathless, eyes fluttering open to meet each other.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?” you say, your voice teasing, but there’s a hint of something deeper in it now.

Tony grins, clearly pleased with himself. “I’m pretty sure you just made my night. I’m never letting you go, you know.”

You laugh, poking him lightly in the chest. “Not that I’m complaining, but I think I might be the one who’s going to keep you.”

Tony presses another kiss to your lips, this one playful, with a promise of more to come. He can’t stop himself now. He wants you—he wants you in a way that feels almost primal, like he’s not willing to let go of you, ever. You feel the same.

“Good,” he whispers against your lips. “Because you’re stuck with me now.”

As the night continues, you both stay there, tangled together on the blanket, lost in the sweetness of the moment, kissing, laughing, and just enjoying the quiet joy of being with each other. There’s no rush, no expectation—just the two of you, finally figuring out that this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

And for the first time in a long time, you don’t need anything else. Just Tony. And maybe a few more kisses.

The Avengers Tower’s common room is buzzing with excitement as movie night rolls around again, but this time, there’s a palpable change in the air. It's been a few weeks since you and Tony officially became a couple, and everyone can feel the shift. The usual dynamic is the same—loud chatter, snacks being passed around, and the occasional argument over what movie to watch—but there's something different now, something that makes every glance between you and Tony feel a little more charged. And you know exactly what it is.

As you walk into the room, hand in hand with Tony, the team falls silent for a brief moment before an uproar of teasing starts. Steve looks up from his phone and winks. Natasha smirks. Thor chuckles, and Clint just shakes his head with an exaggerated sigh. You and Tony sit down on the couch, the atmosphere now a mix of curiosity and playful mockery.

"So," Steve begins with that too-innocent expression on his face, "what are we watching tonight? Another Christmas classic?"

"Well, it is still December," Tony replies, his hand slipping to the back of your chair. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he adds in a low, teasing voice, "But we can make it even more special, you know. I was thinking of a Christmas movie marathon… just the two of us."

You glance over at him, surprised at the suggestion. It’s not like Tony to offer a quiet, cozy evening without any extra flair, but for some reason, the idea of spending the night with him like that, away from everyone else, feels… comforting. You smile, leaning toward him and resting your head on his shoulder. "I like that idea," you murmur, nudging him playfully with your elbow.

The team watches you both, exchanging amused looks, and it only takes a second for Clint to speak up.

"Guys, seriously? Are we watching a Christmas movie or just watching you two get all… lovey-dovey for two hours?" He throws his hands up in exasperation. "It's like all you do now."

"Hey," Tony says, lifting an eyebrow as he shoots Clint a look. "We are on a date."

"Yeah, a date with a group of people who are very interested in your every move." Natasha’s voice is dry, but there's a playful sparkle in her eyes.

"Ugh, gross," Clint mutters, pretending to gag, but the smirk on his face betrays the fact that he's more entertained than anything else.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile that spreads across your face at their teasing. Tony, meanwhile, seems to thrive on the attention, leaning back a little too dramatically and pulling you closer to his side.

“I’m just a lucky guy,” Tony says with that smug smile of his, squeezing your shoulder. "Do you all see what I have to deal with? She’s perfect."

"Sure, Stark, you’re the lucky one," Clint mutters, dramatically pulling out a bag of chips from the table and shoving a handful into his mouth.

“You know,” Thor says from the armchair where he’s lounging, “when a mortal finds true love, it should be celebrated. It is a noble thing, indeed!” He raises his mug of beer as if toasting you both. "May you two share many winters together in joy."

"Aw, thanks, Thor." You smile at the god of thunder, and Tony gives you a mock bow.

"Let’s just try to survive the night without any more of that emotional stuff, okay?" Steve says, giving you a wink. "We’re here to watch a movie, not get too intense."

You lean into Tony with a smile, enjoying the teasing atmosphere. But, of course, Tony has to make it worse—or better, depending on how you look at it.

“Hey, don’t act like we’re not entertaining you guys. Who else is going to give you this much material to work with, huh?” He shrugs and adjusts his arm around you, pulling you closer, his hand resting casually on your thigh. “Besides, we love a little public display of affection.”

“Oh, we know,” Clint says with a mock groan, covering his eyes dramatically. "We’ve seen enough PDA to last a lifetime."

"Yeah, but have you seen this?" Tony asks, his eyes glinting mischievously as he pulls you closer. Without warning, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, and then another on the top of your head.

The room falls into an exaggerated silence as everyone stares.

“Really, Tony?” Steve raises an eyebrow, a look of disbelief on his face.

“Come on, Cap. It’s just a kiss,” you reply, though your voice is full of suppressed laughter.

“Yeah, a thousand kisses,” Clint quips from across the room, rolling his eyes. “At least they’re not making out in front of us—that would be too much.”

“Oh, don’t tempt us, Clint,” Tony smirks, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek, his lips hovering just above yours for a beat. It’s sweet and intimate, but just teasing enough to make everyone squirm.

“Okay, okay,” Natasha finally says, throwing her hands up. “We get it. You’re in love. Just pick a movie already, or we’re going to have to find some other way to get the room’s attention.”

You both laugh, and Tony gives her a playful wink before leaning back into the couch, pulling you with him. You settle against him, your head resting on his chest, the warmth of his body comforting. It’s nice like this—cozy, familiar, and surrounded by people who you know are teasing just because they’re happy for you.

"So," Tony says, looking around the room and clearing his throat. "We decided on a Christmas movie marathon, but only if everyone can behave. If we end up with more sarcastic commentary and eye-rolls, we might have to take it to the bedroom and really make it a private affair.”

“Ugh, no, no,” Clint says, holding his hands up in mock horror. "We’ll behave. Promise."

Tony grins, clearly enjoying every second of this, before pressing the play button on the remote. The opening credits of Love Actually start to roll, and everyone immediately starts making playful comments. You can’t help but chuckle as Tony holds you a little tighter, clearly amused by the bickering happening around you.

As the movie continues, you get wrapped up in the warmth of the scene, the silly moments, and the subtle sweetness of the holiday cheer. You settle deeper into Tony’s side, your head resting against his shoulder, his arm draped comfortably over your waist. His fingers gently stroke your arm as the two of you share quiet conversations during the more emotional parts of the movie. Every so often, he presses soft kisses to the top of your head, as if reminding you—and everyone else—that you belong to each other.

The teasing continues from the others, but there’s an undeniable affection in it all. They’re all happy for you both, even if it’s a little strange for them to see Tony—Tony Stark, the self-proclaimed playboy billionaire—acting like a lovesick puppy in front of the entire team.

“Man, you really went all out,” Clint says after a particularly emotional scene, turning to Tony with a raised eyebrow. “You even went for Love Actually. What’s next? A romantic comedy marathon?”

“Anything for my girl,” Tony responds easily, and the way he says it, so casually but so full of affection, makes your heart swell.

“I can’t wait to see you two try to top this next year,” Natasha says, her tone playful, though there’s a softness to it as well.

“I don’t even want to know,” Steve chimes in, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But I’m guessing this is only the beginning, huh?”

“Hey, if I’m going all in, I’m going all in,” Tony replies, glancing down at you with that loving look that makes your heart skip. “I’m in this for the long haul.”

You smile up at him, and his expression softens just enough for you to feel the weight of his words. There’s no doubting how much he means it. And for a moment, the world outside of this room seems to disappear as you’re surrounded by the people who feel like family—your family.

The movie goes on, the mood light and easy, and Tony’s kisses come more frequently, not because he has to, but because he simply can’t seem to stop himself. And you don’t mind one bit.

By the time the movie ends, the Avengers are sprawled around the room in varying degrees of comfort. Tony gives you one last lingering kiss before pulling away just enough to look at you with a grin.

“I think we’ve officially made movie night our tradition now,” he says with a satisfied nod.

“Definitely,” you agree, your fingers gently tracing the fabric of his shirt. “Just us… and the team watching us get all cheesy.”

“Hey, it’s our tradition,” Tony replies with a wink. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

With a contented sigh, you rest your head on his shoulder again, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the softness of his kisses lingering on your lips, and the comforting certainty that, despite the teasing, you and Tony are exactly where you’re meant to be.

And as the Avengers disperse, still chuckling under their breaths, you know you’ve found a tradition that will be cherished for years to come—just you, Tony, and an endless amount of Christmas movies.

[sam24]

Metal Arm Cupid

Summary: Bucky didn't know what to expect in the 21st century. But he definitely didn't expect cute girls to barge into meeting rooms and beat people up.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

*****

Bucky made no attempt to stifle his yawn as he pretended to listen to the debrief (that was looking more like an argument to him) that was going on way too long for his liking, earning a sharp glare from Steve, but Bucky could tell that deep down, Steve wanted to hightail outta there too.

“Stop taking all the credit, Josh. I was the one who stabbed him. You just sat there and watched like an obese cow.”

Josh (Bucky thought his name was Jack until now) scoffed. “That’s Agent 16 to you, Avery.”

“It’s actually Avril, you little-”

“Agents, you better stop this instantly.” Fury narrowed his eyes at the bickering partners.

“Stop embarrassing me in front of the Avengers, Evelyn, and let me do the talking. Clearly you can’t because of those oversized donkey teeth of yours.” Josh paid no heed to Fury.

The girl (Avril?) gasped and her hand instinctively flew to cover her mouth. “Why you-”

“Okay, that’s enough.” A dangerously calm voice rang through the room.

All eyes flew towards Natasha, you looked like she was going to murder the next person who opened their mouth.

“This is why I don’t go on missions with sensitive baby agents.” She muttered in Russian.

Bucky cracked a smile.

“How come no one listens to me?” Fury grumbled.

“Probably because you aren’t a trained assassin with 20 different weapons hidden on your body, and I bet you also don’t know 5 different ways to kill someone with an oven mitt.” Clint whispered in Fury’s ear.

“It doesn’t matter who stabbed who, it matters what happened in the end. And in the end, I was the one you saved your ungrateful asses, so you can stop arguing like toddlers now.” Natasha growled.

Her eyes narrowed specifically at Josh.

Nobody spoke. Probably because no sane person wanted a bullet from Natasha’s gun in their head.

“You seriously couldn’t have done that 20 minutes ago?”

Of course, though, Tony Stark was far from sane.

“Shut up, Tony.” At least 5 different people said at the same time.

Josh cleared his throat, recovering from his mini paralysis stroke.

“No offense, but-”

Before Josh could get himself killed, loud voices outside of the door made everyone turn.

Honestly, they all probably would’ve turned even to watch a fly so they could ignore Josh’s excuses.

“Miss, I can’t let you-”

“I really don’t care, so move. Now.”

Bruce immediately sat up. “Is that Ace?”

“Oh, thank god.” Tony let out a dramatic sigh of relief. “I’m so bored right now, maybe she’ll make this actually interesting.”

Even though Bucky’s stay at the compound started recently, he had heard plenty of stories about you, the infamous ‘Ace’. To what he’d heard, you worked at the lab with Bruce and Tony, like a daughter to them both. You were an ‘intellectual sage’ (described by Barton), hence the nickname, Ace.

“I said, MOVE!”

“Banner, what is the meaning of this?” Fury ordered.

Bruce furrowed his eyebrows and completely ignored him. “What in the world is she doing?”

“Banner!”

“I SAID MOVE, DAMNIT.” A loud thud followed closely and the door was flung open so hard it practically ripped off of its hinges.

“Lord have mercy.” Bruce buried his face into his hands as you barged into the room, pulling along a terrified looking girl behind you.

Bucky’s eyebrows raised with interest as he took in your purple highlights, Converse High-Tops, and Gravity Falls shirt peeking out from under your lab coat.

“Look, missy, in case you haven’t noticed, this is a private meeting. I’m going to give you 5 seconds to leave before I have you escorted out instantly.” Fury demanded.

“Yeah, that’s cool, Patchy the Pirate, just give me a minute.” You weren’t even looking at Fury as you scanned the room.

“Ha! Patchy the Pirate! Laura’s gonna love this!” Clint smacked his hand on the table and leaned his chair back (and almost fell backwards if Steve didn’t catch it, but that’s not the point).

Fury looked like he was seriously contemplating life as you still didn’t spare him a glance, and your narrowed hawk eyes landed on someone behind Bucky.

He followed your gaze to meet Josh, who had raised two fingers in the air cockily to greet you and the girl behind you.

“Josh, you mother fucker.”

And before Steve could say ‘language!’ (yes, Bucky had caught on pretty quickly after Tony would say it every other sentence), you had crossed the room in what felt like just two strides and socked Josh right in the jaw.

The room erupted in chaos.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Steve was up on his feet in a millisecond, his Captain America side taking over.

“That’s it, honey! Do it again!” Tony cheered.

“Is this some kind of Midgardian greeting that I have not yet been informed of?”

“Someone tell me what the hell is going on in my own meeting!”

“That was the best thing I’ve seen in my whole life.” Avril grinned.

Natasha didn’t say anything, but her face clearly said ‘girl, me too’.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.” Sam chuckled from next to Bucky.

“Same.” Bucky muttered under his breath.

“Whoa hold up, did you just agree with me??”

“Shut up, pigeon brain.”

“Excu-”

The only thing that stopped Sam and Bucky’s cat fight was another punch to Josh’s precious face, this time right in the nose.

Bruce tried to reason with you from across the whole ass room, practically shouting over all the commotion as Steve tried to pull you away from Josh.

“Ace, sweetheart, why don’t you talk it out instead of going straight to violence? Doesn’t that sound like a better idea?”

“Sounds great, Bruce, but that’s not an option anymore!” You shouted back over your shoulder.

“Look, champ, it’s not right to randomly punch people like that!” Steve was still trying to pry you away from Josh.

“Look, Pops,” You mocked. “It’s also not right to cheat on your girlfriend with some random chick you ran into at a bar!”

Everything stopped.

Except Josh’s struggling from your grasp.

“He cheated on you?” Tony broke the silence, looking like he was going to blast Josh into outer space. “Wait, when were you guys even together? And why in the goddamn world would you date that guy?”

“Not me, dimwit, her.” You point your free hand that was not gripped on Josh’s collar at the girl behind you, looking ready to sprint out of there when all eyes landed on her.

“Just leave it, ma moitié, it’s not worth it.” She said quietly, her words coated in a thick french accent.

Bucky recognized her as the nice agent who gave him a coffee last week after Sam ‘accidentally’ knocked over Bucky’s.

“Just leave it? Absolutely not, hun!”

“Listen to her, Ace.” Bruce pleaded.

“No! This sleazy bastard cheated on my best friend! No fucking way! Literally, who the hell would cheat on a cute french girl?”

“Ace, violence isn’t the right way to-”

“Excuse me?” Josh’s voice rang out, sounding like someone was holding his nose closed shut. “Can someone get me an ice pack?”

You whipped around towards him.

“You. Want. An. Ice pack.” You restated, shooting daggers- no, 7 inch sharp kitchen knives at him.

“My nose hurts.” Josh rolled his eyes. “Y’know, after you turned all Crazy Psycho Lady on me and broke it.”

“You know what?” Your smile dripped with bitterness and sarcasm. “How about I punch it again so it’ll go numb and it won’t hurt anymore?”

You reached your arm backwards to land another punch, but Steve rushed to grab you again, and the chaos resumed.

Tony was instructing you to “kick Steve in the balls and resume beating the shit out of Josh”, while Bruce was very strongly vetoing the idea.

Sam and Clint, meanwhile, were placing bets on how much the medical bill was gonna be.

Suddenly, Bruce rushed over to Bucky.

“Look, man, you gotta help me.”

Bucky looked at Bruce with wide eyes. “Me?”

“Yeah! If you tell her to stop, she would in a heartbeat!”

“Why?” Bucky knew where this was going.

“Because of your metal arm!”

Bucky’s heart sank. Of course you were scared of it. Everyone was. They thought it made him a monster.

So did he.

Even though he was so, so grateful to Shuri for trying to help him feel like a new person with a new arm that wasn’t associated with HYDRA, that bloody ruthless murderer that they made him into never seemed to leave.

He would always be him.

No matter how hard he tried, the memories followed him like a lost puppy, attacking at night when he was trying to sleep.

No matter how hard he tried, he could never shake off the imprint HYDRA had left on him.

No matter how hard he tried or how much Steve told him otherwise, Bucky was still a monster.

A cruel, cold-hearted, evil monster who killed the innocent.

Who killed innocent men, women, and children who didn’t deserve to be killed.

He was the one who deserved to be killed.

“She’s absolutely obsessed with it!”

Bucky choked on his spit.

“Wha-w-what?”

“She adores it.” Bruce rushed. “She says it’s, and I quote, the most beautiful and extraordinary thing to ever be made in history.”

Okay, so apparently Bucky did not know where that was going.

“Still not convinced?” Bruce groaned. “She thinks it’s the most amazing thing in the galaxy. She says it’s the ‘peak of engineering’. You can ask Tony if you still don’t believe me.”

Tony wasn’t extremely fond of Bucky, and neither was Bucky of him, so he decided to take Bruce’s word for it, no matter how much it shocked him.

She likes my arm?

Just because she likes your arm doesn’t mean she likes you, idiot.

“Uh, okay? So, um, what do I do?”

“Tell her to stop!” Bruce lightly shoved Bucky forward when he slowly got up out of his seat.

Bucky hesitantly took a step forward, his mind still trying to process everything.

Bucky maneuvered around Steve, tapping you - who was still out to get it for Josh- on the shoulder after a moment of hesitation.

“Bruce, I already told you, it’s too late-” You spun out of Steve’s grip, but your mouth dropped open when you realized it was not Bruce.

You stared at Bucky with wide eyes. But not out of fear.

Out of adoration.

He was struck with a sudden flash of nostalgia of how his mom looked at him when he gave her a card for Mother’s Day when he was 6.

"Oh, Jamie, I love it.” She had said as she read it with a soft smile.

And that same smile was on your face. “Um, hi there.”

He smiled back.

But not one of those fake smiles he put on to make Steve happy. An actual genuine smile.

And it felt good.

You smoothed out your coat, taking in a breath. “Can I help you?”

Steve stared at the two of you, a grin spreading onto his face.

“I’m not surprised. Those psychos are perfect for each other.” Josh rolled his eyes.

Neither of you heard him.

“Hi, I’m Bucky.”

“She knows.” Tony groaned.

“Shut up, Tony.” Your eyes never left Bucky’s. “Hi Bucky.”

He saw your eyes light up as they made their way to look at his metal arm.

Bruce cleared his throat loudly.

“So, um, Ace. The arm has been giving me a bit of trouble recently. I was wondering if you could maybe take a look at it?” Bucky glanced at Bruce before looking back at you.

“He means now.” Bruce added.

You looked like you were going to faint out of excitement.

“Y-yeah, of course.”

Bruce let out a loud sigh of relief.

“Um, actually.” Bucky started.

Bruce’s head shot up and started mouthing something to Bucky - probably something along the lines of ‘No! Get her out of here before she kills him!’- but he was busy looking at you.

“Maybe you wanna grab a coffee first?”

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Idk why but I'm in the mood for a pregnant reader and a very attentive Tony! Like the reader is on the porch swing watching Tony and their other child play or playing in the water (cause a shirtless Tony is what everybody needs) or tend to her garden because she's heavily pregnant and she's just so happy and content with everything and Tony gets his happy ending 🥺👉👈

My happy ending

Pairing: Tony Stark x Wife! Reader

Warnings: OH THE FLOOF.

.

Splashing of water followed by combined giggles of your husband and toddler reached your ears as you stepped out with a popsicle in your hand.

It was a hot day that only added to your discomfort; waddling around with a heavily pregnant belly in this heat was no joke. You managed to plonk on the edge of the pool and dip your feet in the water, fully knowing you’d need Tony to help you up later.

“Mama! Me want a juice pop!” Your three year old boy, Noah exclaimed, pointing at the icy treat you held in your hand.

Sighing, you simply looked at your husband who was already half out of the swimming pool to fulfil his son’s wishes, that was after he pecked you on your lips softly. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for that boy, or you, or your little girl who was due in two weeks.

The sun was milder now, yet it was uncomfortably hot; the water was helping your aching feet though.

“My sister make you tired, Mama?” Noah asked innocently, his big brown eyes blinking up at you as he bobbed in his tiny floatie.

His question made you smile. At just three, he was the most sensitive, caring boy, who somehow understood you were carrying his baby sister in your tummy.

“I am tired, baby. Will you cuddle with me in bed later?”

“Me no baby, Mama! Me a big boy now!”

Tony watched the interaction from the kitchen window that overlooked your backyard, his heart full of love looking at the two most important people in his life. Well, three if you counted his baby girl who was due soon.

He had spent hours searching for the perfect name for her, and had even finalised one in his mind. He just had to run it by you, but he was certain you’d be on board. It was a combination his mother’s name and yours, after-all.

His life was perfect, even with the occasional bumps on the road, he wouldn’t change a thing. You were his anchor, the centre of his universe along with his boy who was his best friend, and he had another little version of you coming along.

He finally had his happy ending.

I got carried away in this perfect little world 🥺 hope you like it @stark-ironman

[natashaslesbian]

Mommy’s Got You Now🤍

Summary: Y/n has a fall while staying at the Starks cabin. Natasha rushes back from her mission to take care of her little girl.

Word Count: 770

Pairings: little/kid reader x Natasha Romanoff , little/kid reader x Morgan Stark, little/kid reader x Pepper Potts, Tony x Pepper (mentions of Clint and Kate)

Hurt/Angst/Comfort/Fluff

Warnings: mention of injury(broken arm and nose bleed) brief hospital mention(no details of medical procedure or instruments)

————

“Morgan! Morgan! Look how high I can jump!” Little y/n called to her bestest friend. The two 5 year olds were competing to see who could jump the highest on the bed, Tony and Peppers bed…

…Y/n had been staying with the Stark family for 3 days while her mother, Natasha Romanoff, was on an intel mission along with her uncle clint and auntie Kate…

“No y/n, look I can jump higher than you!” Morgan said. The girls laughter filled the woodland cabin, all the way down to Pepper’s office. There she sat, listening to the joy echoing through the walls.

“I’m gonna touch the ceiling Morgan! Watch me watch me!”

Y/n used all her strength and bounced up to touch the lampshade, and she reached it - but as y/n began to come back down, she caught her foot on the bedpost and starting diving head first towards the wooden floor. “Y/N!” Morgan cried as she tried to reach for her friend.

The cries and screams (and the rather loud thud) had Pepper bolting straight out of her office and up the stairs, there she met little redhead y/n bundled up on the floor.

“Oh y/n! Come here sweetheart, it’s ok.” Pepper cooed as she cradled y/n in her arms, her little throat screaming out in pain. “MOMMY! I WANT MAMMA!” Y/n cried. “I know sweetheart, I know” was all Pepper could offer as she reached for a tissue to wipe the blood running from y/n’s nose, it seemed she’d managed to land on the left side of her body and right side of her face.

“I’m sorry mom! We were just playing and she fell” Morgan began to also cry hysterically. “Oh honey it’s ok, it wasn’t your fault, do you think you could be a big girl and go find daddy for me?”

Mr. Stark came running up the stairs, following his crying daughter. “Y/n fell” Pepper said “I think we need to take her to the hospital…her arm Tony” Pepper said, whispering the last few words. Tony looked towards y/n’s left arm, bent the wrong way and purple with bruises. “I’ll get the car”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as Clint pulled into the car park, Natasha was out the door and running to find her daughter. 3 hours ago Pepper had called and said y/n had fallen over, she hadn’t had an update as to how bad it was yet.

“Excuse me!” Natasha called to the receptionist “My daughter was brought in a few hours ago, Y/n, y/n Romanoff” the blue haired lady began aggressively typing as Natasha noticed a little brunette running towards her “Aunty Nat!” Morgan.

“Hey little bean” Natasha said as she picked up young Morgan. Tony soon followed behind her “Hey Nat, she’s ok, she’s with Pepper, come on I’ll take you”

“Ugh, wait a minute you can’t all go!” The receptionist called….too late.

Y/n laid wrapped up in blankets holding her new hospital bear, Sally. Tears gently slid down her cheeks as she looked over her pink cast. The pain was wearing off little by little but poor y/n was still very shaken up. Her nose yet to be cleaned of the dried up blood.

The curtain was pulled back and y/n shot up. “MOMMY!” She cried as Natasha ran to scoop up her toddler. “Oh baby it’s ok mommy’s here, I’m here now.” She whispered into y/n’s ear as she gave a small wave to Pepper. “Natasha, I’m so sorry” Pepper began. “It’s alright, these things happen, I’m just glad you were there” Natasha almost cried.

Y/n pulled back and looked up into her mommy’s beautiful green eyes. “It-it hurts mamma. Wanna go ho- go home” her little sobs broke Natasha’s heart, she wishes more than anything she could have been there to protect her little angel. “I know princess, you’re so so brave! Mamma’s here, we’ll get you home soon, get you curled up in bed with all the snacks.”

Natasha’s words did not disappoint, 2 hours later little y/n was laying in her mommy’s arms in her mommy’s bed. Toy Story 2 quietly played in the background as Nat stoked her fingers through y/n’s curly locks. “Itchy momma” y/n whined. “Oh darling I know, it’ll go away soon I promise” Natasha said.

Before long the events of the day forced

y/n’s tired eyes shut, empty bottle of milk still between her lips. Natasha swapped it out for her daughters favourite paci and pulled the duvet over them both. She kissed y/n on the head and got a little hum in response.

“Sleep well my angel, mommy’s got you now”

————

Ahhh my first time writing little reader! I hope you enjoyed! Soft mamma Nat is my fav<3

- Star🌷

[talesofadragon]

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞

Chapter III - Synopsis: There's something profoundly heartfelt about Y/N and her daughter. They're the portrait Steve has always longed to behold—the kind of magic no artist could ever capture. He’ll be damned if he ever lets their vibrant hues fade away.

Pairing: Professor!Steve Rogers x Student!Reader/Mum!Reader

Warnings: Age Gap (14 years. Both are adults), teacher/student dynamic, abusive relationship, gaslighting, emotional manipulation, terrible partner, co-parenting. 

Genre: Angst | Fluff | Emotional Hurt/Comfort | Slow Burn | Age Gap | Teacher/Student

Word Count: 4.4K Words

All Masterlists | Paint Me Midnight Blue Masterlist

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕�� 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐋𝐄-𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃 his credentials before logging into the online platform. He had always been meticulous, exceedingly determined to overcome headwinds that stood in his way. Yet, technology was one of those pesky challenges that seemed determined to thwart him. Whenever he thought he finally got the hang of it, the insidious alien would be one step ahead, either pulling a new update from under its sleeve or decisively crashing and glitching—outright mocking him every single time.

Maybe it was because he was an artist. And artists often clashed with that treacherous leech, mixing like oil and water. But today, Steve hoped for a touch of mercy from his computer since Y/N had agreed to attend the class virtually.

Under normal circumstances, this class was offered on-site. But this was one of those rare instances where Steve had the upper hand and could bend the rules to his advantage. After all, what was the point of being Chairman of the Arts and Culture Department if he couldn’t make a few exceptions? As long as he agreed to teach this one class online, no one could contest it. No one would even know.

Steve had logged into the virtual classroom with a sense of accomplishment, feeling as content as Bob Ross on The Joy of Painting. With ten minutes to spare before the class began, it was no surprise to find Y/N’s profile in the virtual waiting room.

He cleared his throat and hovered his cursor over the “admit” button. Steve expected Y/N’s face to pop up—her image pristine as always. Or, if she decided to turn her camera off, then he anticipated the soft cadence of her “good morning” filtering through his laptop’s speakers. Instead, his camera framed large, midnight-blue eyes—two luminous gems reminiscent of precious jewels and full of innocent wonder.

“Hi!!” Nyla, the owner of those sparkling eyes Steve remembered from their day at the park, greeted him with a wide, radiant smile. She waved energetically, her face nearly pressed against the screen of the device Y/N was using for the online session. 

“Well, hello there, Little Princess."

Steve’s smile grew wider, genuinely delighted as he watched Nyla’s giggles cause tiny tremors in her small frame. Nyla was perched on a wooden chair. Steve saw a cozy kitchen with sage green walls and charming white cabinets behind her.

“I’m not a princess,” the little girl said with a shy smile, her elbows resting on a round wooden table and her little hands propping up her cheeks. “I’m Nyla.”

Steve gasped dramatically, covering his mouth with his hand in mock surprise. This elicited another burst of giggles from the toddler.

“No! How can a young girl with such beauty and cuteness be anything but a princess? That’s outrageous. I refuse to believe it.”

“But it’s true! I don’t live in a castle. I don’t even have a crown.”

Steve hummed thoughtfully, examining her through the screen. He tilted his head and peered intently at her head. “Well, I don’t see a crown on your head,” he pointed out, pretending to scrutinize her for hidden regalia. “But I’m not falling for that. Cinderella didn’t have a crown at first, neither did Belle, Ariel, or Snow White,” he listed, catching Nyla’s rapt attention with each name. Something good came out of his friendship with Tony Stark, the owner of this university, and the father of young Morgan Stark, who was currently in a Pocahontas phase.

Nyla listened intently, her blue eyes sparkling with admiration. “You know almost all of them! Are you a prince?”

Steve’s lips twitched, tugging to the side to draw a grin on his face. “I don’t live in a castle,” he quipped. “I don’t even have a crown.”

“Silly you! Princes don’t always wear crowns!”

“Well, if that’s the case, then maybe princesses don’t always wear crowns either. So, I’m sure you must be a princess in disguise.”

Steve mock bowed, his hand resting over his heart in a dramatic gesture. It had been a long while since he had a carefree conversation, away from the weight of responsibilities, meetings, and deadlines. He had missed this—living in a bubble of make-believe, adrift from the real world. 

Wasn’t this how art was born? Wasn’t creativity a child of uninhibited imagination, meandering along endless fields of wild inventiveness?

Nyla shifted, her lips parting and her hand raising in the air. As she began to speak, ready to continue their delightful chat, another voice suddenly emanated from Steve’s speakers—belonging to someone much older than the toddler.

“Ny! Sweetheart, how many times have I told you? Don’t lean on the table while standing on the chair. You could hurt yourself.”

As Y/N rushed into view on Steve’s laptop, she wrapped Nyla in her arms, gently lifting her off the table and settling her back into the chair. With her back turned to the screen, she was oblivious to the camera, which gave Steve a clear and unobstructed view of her backside.

Pink swept across Steve’s cheeks, his throat suddenly feeling dry. Though he was raised as a gentleman, the first half of the term could not negate his genesis and nature. In other words, his natural instincts prevailed, drawing his eyes to Y/N’s ass no matter his best efforts at looking away.

In his defense, Y/N was wearing purple pajamas—her long-sleeved top tucked into bottoms that were either unusually snug or simply accentuated her curves remarkably well. It wasn’t just her striking eyes that commanded attention; her silhouette, subtly framed by the tight fabric, held a magnetic allure all its own.

What the hell are you on, Rogers? Get a grip, you fucking moron! You sound like a horny teenager.

 “Uh… good morning, Miss Y/L/N.”

Y/N jumped at the unexpected greeting, almost knocking over whatever was on the table in her haste to turn around. Steve couldn’t blame her; even he cringed at how restrained and awkward he sounded.

“Professor Rogers!” Y/N exclaimed, gripping the table for dear life. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out, at least not loud enough to be picked up by the speakers. She glanced between him and her daughter. “I-I… uh. How long have you been on the call?”

“Not long. About five minutes.”

“Five minutes?”

“Yes.” Steve cleared his throat, trying to hide his amusement at Y/N’s fluster. He craned his neck, his eyes returning to Nyla. “I had wonderful company.”

Y/N followed his gaze, turning her attention to her daughter. Steve wondered if she did that partly to hide the growing blush on her cheeks.

“I didn’t touch anything,” Nyla asserted, anticipating her mother’s question. “The screen was blank, then it just popped up!” She raised her hands next to her face, all ten fingers spread wide for dramatic effect. “I was just taking a look.”

Nyla’s innocence and cuteness seemed to ease Y/N’s demeanor. The older woman’s shoulders relaxed as she gently stroked Nyla’s hair. She kissed her cheek and whispered something in her ear. Nyla nodded understandingly, then jumped off the chair. She gave Steve a shy smile before scurrying away to sit right next to Y/N.

“I apologize, Professor. I realized I had forgotten my glasses, so I went to fetch them. I didn’t think you’d be on the call this early, or I would have taken the time to mute myself and turn off the camera.”

As Steve watched Y/N put on her glasses with a slight blush, the lenses accentuated the sparkle in her eyes, making them look even more captivating. They fit her well.

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Miss Y/L/N. I’m about to begin the session. Feel free to keep your camera on if you like. And if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Noted, Professor. Thank you.”

As his students filled the classroom, Steve began explaining the next chapter in their course: Neo-Expressionism. While contemporary art aimed to advance creative ideas and styles, it did so by building on the palettes of its predecessors. This movement marked a return to figurative painting and emotional intensity with a contemporary twist and a more confrontational approach to presentation.

As an introduction to this style, Steve wanted to keep it light, especially since almost half of the students seemed distracted, too lost in their thoughts. He glanced at Y/N, surprised to see that while she had muted herself, she still kept her camera on.

From his peripheral vision, he saw her jotting down notes. Nyla appeared engrossed as well, pushing her chair closer to where Y/N sat. Y/N, in turn, fondly gazed at her daughter, bending down to gently scoop her into her arms and place her in the chair.

Booping Nyla’s nose and tickling her stomach, Y/N reached to the side to bring the coloring books and pencil case closer. She observed her daughter coloring while her little feet enthusiastically kicked in the air with delight.

Steve’s heart swelled, and he sounded overly enthusiastic when he featured Riding with Death by Jean-Michel Basquiat, but it wasn’t like any of his students were paying much attention. He fielded occasional questions from the crowd as he showcased works by Anselm Kiefer and Georg Baselitz next.

His laptop pinged. Of course, Y/N would be the only one engaged enough to ask thoughtful questions, even when she wasn’t physically present.

Y/N Y/L/N: What are the defining features of Neo-Expressionist art, and how do they differ from earlier Expressionism?

Steve smiled unabashedly, his expression clear on the camera as he mouthed one word: “smart.”

He straightened up and spent ten minutes explaining the differences between the two movements.

“Neo-Expressionism, meaning New-Expressionism, infused the earlier epoch with a new sense of purpose. While early Expressionism emerged in the early twentieth century as a response to societal conflicts and World War I, Neo-Expressionism thrived in the late twentieth century, challenging conceptual art and minimalism. In essence, Neo-Expressionism rebelled against these movements to create more vivid and visceral art, both literally and figuratively.”

The rest of the class continued in this vein, with Y/N being the main instigator of his artistic discourse. Even when other students raised their hands, Steve had to stifle a groan, suspecting their questions would pale in comparison to Y/N’s.

Not that he was favoring her over his other students—except that he was. So far, she was the only one who hadn’t made him question his decision to pursue academia as his next career step.

“Alright, this concludes today’s class. Please sign your names on the attendance sheet on your way out. You can email me any questions you have about this chapter so far or visit my office during the allocated office hours,” Steve announced, as eager students signed their names and left his class.

Smiling at each student as they passed, Steve began to pack his things, placing his books and notebook into his satchel. After flinging the bag around his neck, he picked up his laptop, keeping it open to avoid interrupting the call with Y/N. She was still on mute, with no sound coming from her end, but her camera remained on, showing her pursed lips as she jotted down more notes in her book.

It was a long walk to Steve’s office. When he opened the door and stepped inside, he let out a long exhale of relief. After setting his satchel aside and placing his laptop on his desk, he sank into the comfort of his snug office chair. The chair's wheels whirred as it skidded across the tiled floor. Steve adjusted the laptop and flashed Y/N a bright smile.

“Do you have any more questions, Miss Y/L/N?”

Y/N looked up, her gaze disoriented. She blinked twice at the screen, clearly startled by the end of the class. She had been so engrossed in her notes that she hadn’t expected the session to be over.

“Oh… uh, Professor Rogers. No, that’s okay. I can come by your office another time to ask.”

Steve chuckled softly, his amusement evident. Y/N’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink.

“We are, or rather, I am already in my office, Miss Y/L/N,” Steve said with a smirk. “It’s office hours now, so feel free to ask me any questions you might have. No matter how many questions you’ve scribbled in the margins of your notebook.”

Y/N let out a small laugh, her head dipping to hide her lightheartedness. Nyla glanced at her mother, her blue eyes darting between Steve and Y/N. Seeing her mother searching for a question, Nyla seized the opportunity. She leaned closer to the screen, her small frame angled towards it as she asked, “Did they use crayons or watercolors during New Expressy-m?” She had the most serious expression plastered on her teeny tiny face, ears perked up and eager to hear the response. 

Y/N’s hands flew to cover her mouth, probably in an attempt to mask her amusement. But even though Steve and Y/N wore matching grins, their hearts easily melted at the innocence and cuteness of that question. 

“They used a lot of tools, Little Princess,” Steve replied, noticing Y/N’s interest in the nickname he used for her daughter. “Mainly acrylic paint. But who’s to say they didn’t use coloring pencils or watercolors?”

 Nyla bobbed her head understandingly, taking in everything Steve said. She tapped her index finger against the side of her mouth, her gaze steady but her thoughts whirling around her little head. “Are ac-lilic paints the big girl paints Mama uses sometimes? 

Steve swiftly caught Y/N’s nod while his focus remained uninterruptedly on Nyla. “Yes, that’s correct.”

“Are artists only artists because they paint and draw?”

“No. Art is versatile. It means that it doesn’t have one form. Anyone can be an artist. And it looks like you are one! Are you a secret artist, too, Little Princess? My, my. Can I sneak a peek at those coloring books you have? 

The most radiant smile decorated Nyla’s face. The toddler excitedly squealed, reaching for her coloring books. One was already open, displaying a half-completed image of a ballerina. Nyla gripped her book tightly, proudly displaying her work for Steve to see. 

Instead of the soft pink and light colors that usually accompanied a ballerina’s image, the tutu was a vibrant shade of purple, and the ballerina’s hair decorated her face in a halo of wild embers—orange and phoenix red shadows hung like an autumn crown atop her head. 

“This is…wow. I’m speechless.”

Y/N snorted, unable to rein in her expression at the double meaning behind the phrase. She covered it with a cough, distracting her daughter with a hand around her waist. 

Nyla, for her part, did not seem to understand or suspect any subliminal implication. She jabbed her finger across the page, tracing the purple tutu, reminiscent of Maleficent’s envenomed magic. 

“You said that art in New Express-ym is vibrant,” Nyla explained the reasoning behind her technique, emphasizing the “i” in vibrant. “I made the bal-rina in their style. Is it pretty?”

“No, it’s not,” Steve replied. In the split second it took him to continue, he noticed two things. The first was the tremor of Nyla’s lips and the silver mist in her night-sky irises. The second, equally striking, was Y/N’s clenched jaw and acrimonious eyes. But Steve was undeterred as he said, “It’s glorious. Why aren’t you a student in my class, Miss Nyla? You’d give your mother a run for her money!”

Nyla laughed. Her euphonious and soothing sound filled his ears and spread through every corner of his office. She bounced up and down in her seat, her excitement sparkling like iridescent fairy lights on a cozy summer night. She hugged her coloring book tighter and beamed at her mother. Y/N was also smiling, a transparent sheen threatening to become visibly emotional in her eyes.

She cleared her throat, though whether to stop herself from crying or to clear her airways, Steve couldn’t tell.

“Ny, didn’t you promise to read me the new story you were learning the other day?”

Gasping, Nyla nodded eagerly. She opened her mouth to respond but then turned back to the screen. “What’s your name?”

“Steve, Little Princess,” Steve answered with a soft smile.

Nyla mimicked his expression, then turned her attention back to her mother. “Can Steve stay to listen?”

Precious. So freaking precious.

Unfortunately, Steve could not. For various reasons, none of which were due to the one Y/N mentioned. She carefully peeled the coloring book from her daughter’s hands, her fingers intertwining with Nyla’s tiny ones. “Ny,” she said softly, like the whispers of a spring breeze caressing flower petals after a long absence. “Professor Rogers has to get back to class.”

“But–”

Y/N gently lifted her daughter into her arms, placed her on her lap, and kissed the crown of her head. “We’ll have to say goodbye for now,” she said softly, brushing her daughter’s hair aside and rocking her as she spoke. “I’ll tell Professor Rogers all about the story when I see him.”

“You promise?” Nyla’s irises gleamed with hope, her little pinky extended towards Y/N.

Y/N’s pinky wrapped around hers. It amazed Steve how Nyla’s hand was even smaller than Y/N’s. “Pinky, double sugar-coated promise.”

Nyla surged forward, giving Y/N a wet kiss on her cheek. Her bright eyes met Steve’s, her happiness radiating even through the distance between them. “Bye, bye, Steve!”

“Bye, Little Princess. Thank you for your time. See you soon, Miss Y/L/N.”

“See you soon, Professor Rogers. And thank you, truly.”

The screen turned black faster than Steve had anticipated, the silence both loud and deafening in his empty office. For the first time in a while, the quiet was a welcome reprieve. In the solitude, ideas swirled and emotions flared in the back of his mind. He reached for his sketchbook and grabbed the charcoals from his desk. With vibrant, bold strokes, he sketched with abandon, letting his emotions flow freely as he tried to give form to love and laughter.

“Come in,” Steve’s voice resonated through his office, cutting through the rhythmic scratching of his pencil on yellow paper. The dark lines shaping the silhouettes were an extension of his focus, his thoughts too absorbed in the image to stray.

He heard the door creak open, followed by the soft click of heels on the floor. Steve lifted his gaze from the sketch, an expression of mild disinterest clouding his eyes. “Miss Y/L/N,” he greeted, almost awkwardly, as he noticed her standing at the door. He quickly closed the sketchbook, his feet shuffling as they found solid ground. “Why are you still standing? Please, take a seat.”

Y/N nodded politely, settling into the chair opposite Steve. She waited for him to make himself comfortable, his sketchbook set aside and his hands intertwined on the desk. “Professor Rogers,” Y/N began, her voice soft, “I won’t take up much of your time. I wanted to thank you—for the last session, I mean.”

It had been two days since Y/N had attended the online class. He had seen her today, but she had arrived later than usual. Technically, she had been on time, but the room was already crowded, leaving no chance for a private conversation. Not that he expected one. He was just glad she made it.

“There’s no need to thank me, Miss Y/L/N. Your dedication didn’t waver even virtually, and for that, I must thank you for taking the class so seriously.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed with a delicate pink, deepening as her eyes met Steve’s. “That’s too kind of you, Professor. You’ve always been so thoughtful and accommodating to your students’ needs. And in that regard, I also wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize?” Steve’s eyebrows furrowed in surprise. “Apologize for what?”

“For our earlier interaction in your office,” Y/N clarified. Steve didn’t press further, but she noticed his confusion. Inhaling deeply, Y/N straightened her posture. “Earlier this semester, you wanted to adjust my grades. I reacted… rather aggressively to your offer. And I’m terribly—”

“If anyone should be apologizing for this situation, Miss Y/L/N, it certainly isn’t you. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

Steve’s voice was firm and precise. Y/N’s fingers nervously picked at the skin on her hands. “Professor?” she responded, unsure of how to proceed.

Steve stretched his fingers, almost as if he was reaching for her hand. A second too long, his brain caught up to his actions. Briskly, his fingers retracted, curling inside his palm and under his thumb.

"You’re not just the best student in my class; you’re the best I’ve ever had the pleasure of teaching," Steve said earnestly, observing Y/N’s newfound shyness. "What I saw at the park and during Wednesday’s session only strengthened my belief in your abilities and character. However, I realize my actions might have overstepped. I want you to know that favoritism was never my aim, and your impressive achievements have earned you every bit of recognition and success in my class.”

Y/N blinked, her gaze fixed on Steve. Her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips as she absorbed his words. She nodded slowly, the only sign she acknowledged his sentiments.

Steve waited for her response, giving her space to process his words. To his surprise, Y/N delivered the last thing he expected. “I will be dropping out of your class.”

Steve’s posture stiffened, his eyes widening. “What?”

Y/N tightened her grip on her bag, her purse in her lap seemingly more interesting than the professor before her.

“As you know, I…have a special situation. Not that I’m seeking or ever sought special treatment! Besides you and Professor Barnes, the university’s administration office is the only one aware of Nyla. I wouldn’t have disclosed it if the records didn’t require it.”

“Is everything alright with your daughter, Miss Y/L/N?”

 Y/N sighed heavily, and it was then that Steve noticed the strain on her shoulders. 

“I am Nyla’s primary, or to be more specific, only caretaker, Professor Rogers,” Y/N shared. Though her tone held no remorse and accepted no shame, yet there was a layer of hesitance there. “She’s my first priority. My life revolves around her and so does everything I do. I take morning classes to accommodate my kindergarten schedule. But, unfortunately, Nyla has been facing issues with them.”

“What kind of issues?” Steve blurted out before he could restrain himself. He opened his mouth again, to apologize for his slip, but Y/N continued.  

“The children there have been horrible to her due to…certain reasons. And with her mother being a twenty-two-year-old college student, the administration isn’t taking my concerns seriously.” 

Steve’s heart ached under the weight of her words. Almost instinctively, he let his hand move to Y/N’s side, his fingertips brushing against hers with a feather-light touch. Her breath caught, and her eyes locked onto the contact, a flicker of surprise and vulnerability crossing her face. He made no attempt to move closer, his fingers lingering in place—barely making contact but reaching out with a silent offer of understanding and support. 

Y/N’s delicate fingers trembled slightly against his, a subtle tremor that spoke volumes. Steve felt a shiver run down his spine. He blamed it on the nerve endings beneath his fingertips.

“And what happens now?” Steve asked. 

“I pulled her out,” Y/N replied sheepishly, her dejection evident in the tremor of her voice. “I tried to fix it as much as I could. But it looks like the only solution is to homeschool Nyla for the rest of the term. It’s too late to enroll her anywhere else.”

“And you’re taking an extra semester off to tend to her needs?”

“Yes,” Y/N affirmed without hesitation.

“Miss Y/L/N.” Steve bit the inside of his cheek, his tone almost like a reprimand. “Y/N,” he added, surprising himself by using her first name and drawing a look of surprise from her. Steve lowered his head slightly to meet her gaze, offering a warm, sincere smile that reflected his admiration and empathy. “You are truly admirable. One day, your daughter will look back on what you’ve done for her and feel immense pride in having you as her mother.”

Y/N’s tears began to flow, cascading gently down her cheeks. Seeing her vulnerability struck something deep within Steve. He hesitated, feeling a pang of helplessness as he observed her from across the desk. Acting on impulse rather than thought, he reached out with the lightest touch, catching a single tear as it glistened on the edge of her cheek.  He brushed it away with a tender stroke, his fingers gliding across her face like delicate butterfly kisses on a silky canvas.

Y/N’s downcast eyes raised, two gemstones hidden behind a glassy frame. Devastatingly beautiful, Steve’s mind murmured. A classical masterpiece.

“As your professor, and as someone who cares about your well-being, I cannot allow this to happen.”

“But–”

“No, buts, Y/N. There must be a way. Why don’t you enroll her in the university’s early childhood center?”

The mention of the center made Y/N pause, but she remained unconvinced. “It’s expensive, Professor.”

“It’s free for faculty and staff,” Steve countered promptly.

“But I’m neither faculty nor staff.”

Dammit! Steve had forgotten that detail. His mind raced with possibilities, frustrated by the unfairness of the situation. Perhaps it was his hero complex, his altruism as Bucky had pointed out, or maybe just a reminder of his own past. But Steve was determined to help Y/N—especially because she was Y/N.

He withdrew his hand, already missing her warmth. If only she had worked at the university. He didn’t want to involve Tony or even Hill; Y/N didn’t need additional scrutiny or accusations of favoritism. But there had to be something he could do!

 His eyes fell on his files and closed sketchbook. Was this really the right time to be overwhelmed by paperwork?

‘You really need an assistant to help you file through all these papers,’ Bucky’s words twirled in his head. 

And then it clicked! He didn’t trust anyone with his material. But Y/N wasn’t anyone. 

He smiled widely, his joy contrasting with Y/N’s solemnity. “Miss Y/L/N,” Steve said, hope lacing his voice. “What if I told you I might have a solution?”

Requested by @crazyunsexycool

At this point, this series depicts the love Steve is starting to have for Nyla. Isn't she the freaking cutest?! I mean, if this melts your heart, then you're definitely not ready for what chapters 4 and 5 will be bringing!

Let me know how you're feeling about this series so far!

All the love,

Sab.

[softspace-fics]

Masterlist!

Will be updated as i post new stories!

Requests can be made on my page. Fandoms you can request for are in my introduction.

Agere - 🍼

Romance - 🥰

Angst - 🥀

Fluff - 💖

Other - 👀

Marvel Loki Laufeyson 🐍 Its okay, Dada's here 🍼 🥀

It's hard. 🍼🥀 Loki helps his disabled little take a shower Thor Odinson ⚡ Doctor Strange🧿 Iron Man (Tony Stark) 💸 Heimdall 👁️ Captain America (Steve Rogers) 🗽 The Falcon (Sam Wilson)🦅 Winter Soldier (Bucky Barnes)🦾

No princess, your perfect. 🍼🥀 - Reader feels as if theyre not right for bucky (Plus sized reader!)

You mean to much.🍼🥀 - Reader feels embarrassed about their bad thoughts. Vision🤖 Wanda✨ Hawkeye (Clint Barton)🏹

Bath time! 🍼💖 - Your baba and you have a fun time as you get your bath for the night. Rhodes🦿 Star Lord (Peter Quill)🔫

Never gone 🥀🍼 Black Widow (Natasha Romanoff)🕷️ The Hulk (Bruce Banner)💚 Spider-Man (Peter Parker *Tom, Andrew or Tobey!*)🕸️ Multi-Character fics Stucky💞 Wind down 🍼 Stucky x reader Movie Night! 🍼 💖Stucky x Reader

Knowing 🥀 Steve Rogers x James "Bucky" Barnes

Shopping! 🍼💖 Asgardian brothers (Loki + Thor) x Little!plus sized reader

His to cherish 🍼💖 - Stucky x baby-toddler space gn!littler

Senses 🍼💖🥀🥰 - Stucky, but mainly bucky. Bucky learns to fully trust gn!reader

Cabin time! 🍼💖 - Who doesn't love some tea and cabin time?

Hurts. 🍼🥀 - Stucky lets disabled!little reader know that they'll be there even though reader has bad health.

Homework🍼🥀- Reader invoulintarily regresses due to homework stress.

Butterfly kisses 🍼💖🥰 - Stucky loves to give you and eachother butterfly kisses as your morning begins

Nightmares 🍼🥀 -Steve x Little!bucky, bucky had a nightmare and Steve helps him through it.

Pumpkin patch 🍼💖 - Dada and Papa take baby to the pumpkin patch!

Cookies! 🍼💖 - Baby and Dada bucky make cookies for Papa Steve when he gets home!

Christmas morning 🍼💖🌲 - What awaits you as the most magical day arrives?

Icky feelings🍼💖 - Sometimes emotions just can't be explained but yet they're still felt.

Strangetony❤️💛

Safe place 🍼💖 - Some never get a safe place, but you have yours.

Other mixes

Steve Rogers + Peter Parker + gn!little reader

Sickie🍼🥀 - Reader falls ill and their two cgs worry. (Platonic CGS!)

[sk1bidi-n1k0-e4ts-people]

Oooooh!!! Tony with his toddler daughter! I bet she was a sassy little young lady, and super cute!

Summary: tonys daughters toddler years

Warnings: cursing, Lil talk bout bio mother being an ass, tony being evil 👿,

A/N: after I get this out I might not post for a few days due to the hurricane, oof, but I'll be back. Love yall!

+•°+*°•++•°+*°•++•°+*°•++•°+*°•+

it was mid (birth month) when tony got a knock on the door, it was currently 7 p.m, he didn't have guests, he had no plans for tonight, "Jarvis, who is it?"

"It appears that no one is there, only a small basket on the front porch sir" the ai announced to the billionaire, who got up and walked to the front door. Opened it, and saw the small basket with....a baby.

You were holding a envelope in your tiny hands, sleeping peacefully, tony bent down and took it out of your grasp and read the letter inside,

'Dear tony, I dont care what you do with her, just get her away from me! I cant so it anymore, shes only 2 weeks old, shes yours now.' His eyebrows scrunched up in confusion, along with the letter came your birth certificate, one thing he noticed was that the only name on it, was his.

He bent down once more to pick up the small newborn, raising you to his chest, cradling you in his arms. He looked around in search for anyone, closed the door and walked inside.

For a while he just stared at you, wondering how you could possibly be his, of course there was a huge possibility you could be the result of a one night stand, but he was still in shock. Your eyelids fluttered before you opened them fully, revealing large e/c orbs, looking up at your father, like he was the only thing that mattered in the world, and he looked at you the in same way.

He decided this was his chance to not be like his dad. He was going to keep you, and love and cherish you forever.

+•°+*°•++•°+*°•++•°+*°•+

You were now 3, your terrible 2s had come and gone, right now it was around 8:45 am, when you usually wake up naturally, but tony took this opportunity and decided to have a little fun with you... 😈

You were a very intelligent child, you clearly had more of your fathers genes, you looked like him, you were smart like him, you were surpassing the expectations of a 3 y/o to an extent, anyway back to tony and you, he quietly creeped to your bedroom to wake you up, (just wait..) you had already been waking up a little already, your dream slowly fading away, when you heard the door creaking you snapped back into reality, he had clearly done this before because of the fact he can make a 3 y/o jump up like that 🤣

You sat up in your small bed, eyes wide, knowing what was coming. You repeatedly shook your head no as fast as you could, hoping tony would understand your message, tony nodding his head yes instead, you squealed in fright, leaning back into your wall of pillows/stuffed animals, pulling your blanket up to your nose, hoping that looking scared would trick him into just giving you kisses instead. (3 years old and already guilt tripping)

he had come very close to the rail of the bed while you were doing this. Slowly he leaned over the rail and picked you up, put his hand on your stomach (see where this is going) this is when you broke, screaming, you tried to wiggle out of his grasp, to no avail. He had began tickling the life out of you, there was no getting out of this one, your tiny muscles working hard to try and get out of his grasp.

"No no no, your not getting out of this one"

"WHYYYAAHAHAHAH"

"Because i still have something left if stock for you." His smirk was evil, this whole sceam seemed evil to you, your heart pumping faster and faster. When he get a good grasp on you, he lifted your pajama shirt up, exposing your big belly. He lifted you up, and blew a giant raspberry on your belly, shaking his head to make it worse for you.

"NOOAAHAHAHHAHAH" Your screech was ear piercing, clawing at his hands holding you to him. When he stopped, he lifted his head up and pulled you toward his face. You squeezed your eyes shut as tight as possible, expecting the worst, tony chuckled at this.

"No more tickles sweetheart, just wanted to give you a kiss" he said kissing your forehead, you relaxed at this, trying to catch your breath.

+•°+*°•++•°+*°•++•°+*°•+

You had just gone to the park with your father, that consisted of tons of slides, lots of swings, a couple of wiggly bridges, all the good stuff, you and your father were very worn out from this, though tonys tired-ness being from chasing you and yours from being chased by tony, you were both exhausted. You thought since he was tired he wasn't all there, so you took your chance.

"Daddy!"

"Hm"

"What da hell?? You didn't-"

"Hold it right there missy, where did you learn that word?"

"Rhody" you said with a small smirk on your adorable little face 🤗

"Oh my god" he said face palming and shaking his head, leaning on the kitchen counter.

+•°+*°•+

You both decided on a movie, (lion king 1994) tony laid down on his back, and you climbed onto him, laying on his chest, your head resting on his collarbone. Tony had one hand on your back, the other fiddling with the remote to put on the movie, you relaxed at the feeling of his warmth, listening to his heartbeat, so comforting.

Tony had lost track of time upon singing 'hacuna matana' with you (definitely spelled that wrong) it was past your nap time, and you were nodding off on his chest, you slowly felt your eyes fall, not having the strength to open them back up. You soon fell into a deep sleep, small snores coming from you, tony knew you would fall asleep at one point, you always cuddled with him when you were feeling tired. He also fell asleep not long after, your movie playing quietly in the background, it was also raining outside, creating a very comfortable environment for you two to fall asleep to.

A/N: im sorry I kept yall waiting for this one, but I'll be back fresh from my break soon enough my babies! Mwuh! ❤️

*title is Toddler years*

Tags:

@animealways

@white-wolf-buckaroo

@yummyangy

@zebralover

[teddypines]

Scrapbooking with Momma

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

Sumary: Bonding with Natasha while learning how to do arts and craft. Nat showing Y/N her scrapebook and Y/N wanting to do it too so they can be like Momma. Steve showing up at the end for a moment.

Note: A Short one this time, but filled with fluff. gn!reader, around 4 - 5 years old. Also thank you all very much for the 100 followers and the support, it means a lot to me.

Translations: Dorogoy = Sweetheart (And expensive, for some reason) Detka = baby/babe

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

Y/N helpt Nat Bring down all the craft spices they could find around the compound, to the kitchen table. Nat was going to help Y/N with learning proper crafting skills. Besides, Y/N was now at the age where having those skills and the knowledge of crafting would be key and important for other things later in life, mostly to prevent accidents and bigger messes. As Nat carried the two bigger bins, Y/N carried the smaller bin with the little trinkets.

“Momma? Why are you carrying the big bins?” Y/N asked as they looked over the smaller bin up at their momma. “Because we are going to need all the craft stuff we have, so I can teach you and help you with your crafting skills. Of course we are going to have a fun afternoon too.” Nat answered once she set the two bins onto the kitchen table. “Okay, Momma." 

Once everything was set up on the kitchen table and Y/N was sitting next to Nat the crafting lesson could begin. Nat showed Y/N her own scrapbook first, it was the one she was making now, but she had a few others she would show once the time was right.

“Wow.”

“Impressive, hu?”

“Yes! I want to do that too!”

“I’ll teach you, Dorogoy.”

So Nat Showed Y/N how to hold scissors and how to glue without making a mess, but most importantly she showed Y/N how to be creative and use that to make art on a blank page of her scrapbook. To put little things together to make something beautiful and capture memories. Nat would get Y/N a scrapbook of their own next time they would go to the craft store. the two of them spending the rest of the day like this, just to them bonding and crafting.

After a little while of the two crafting Steve joined the two at the kitchen table. Doing his own little sketch of his wife and little one. Loving the picture perfect moment. He got surprised when a sticker appeared in the corner of his page, Y/N giggling as they made Daddy’s art better with a rainbow sticker.

"Momma?" Peter called out for Natasha as he walked into the kitchen. "Have you seen Harley and Dad?" He asked while looking around the kitchen. Steve looked up from his sketch and gave Peter a smile. Holding Y/N in place so they wouldn't interrupt their Momma talking to Peter. “Aren’t they in the lab with Dada?” Natasha answered. “They should be there around this time.”

Peter slowly shook his head. “Their not there.” “Have you asked F.R.I.D.A.Y yet?” Steve asked in return. Only for Peter to shake his head again. Y/N got excited and wiggled out of Steve’s hold. “Can I ask!? Please?!” They asked with a big smile on their face. Steve shook his head with a small smile on his face as Peter facepalmed. “Maybe next time, Dorogoy. You know you still have trouble with your words sometimes.” Natasha said to Y/N before she put the cap back on the glue stick. “Otay, next time, promise?”

“Promise.” Natasha answered Y/N. She turned to Peter and gave him a look. “Go ask F.R.I.D.A.Y, and if they are out you can join us in arts and crafts.” She instructed Peter, who nodded and quickly looked up at the ceiling to ask F.R.I.D.A.Y where Harley and Tony were. Turns out Tony and Harley were indeed out, something out Harley needed something for his bike and Tony was all too happy to help him get it.

“Now you can join our crafts!” Y/N said excited, they got out of Steve’s lap and rounded the table to sit next to Natasha again. “Momma showed me how to scrawpebook! She can teach you too!” “Owh that actually sounds really fun, can you teach me too, Momma?” Peter asked as he sat on the other side of Natasha. “Of course, Detka. So you start with a basic idea and a layout. Like this.” Natasha answered and started to show Peter how to do scrapbook, with Y/N helping since they were an expired now too.

[justkending]

Bullshit! How about a bet? (One-shot)

Summary: Who knew that being short would lead to such great benefits?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (shorter)

Word Count: 3900+

A/N: Once again, I dipped my toes into smuttier waters, but still am building up the courage to jump in fully... I have some announcements (life-wise) that I'm going to make soon, but I needed to write something after the week I had just to bring some happiness to my life, so here you are! I hope you enjoy :)

___________

I was adamant about finding some way to sue Tony Stark for placing the microwave at such an unnecessary height. 

I also planned to sue him for the emotional distress it had caused me this far with the teasing and mocking jokes the team landed on me when they watched me attempt to put food in it. 

Nat and I weren’t far from each other’s height, but either she didn’t use the microwave, or she was better at hiding when she did because I seemed to be the only one who got the quips thrown at me when I stood on the tips of my toes just to push something onto the turntable. 

To make the task harder, the door opened top to bottom like an oven instead of side to side like any normal version of the kitchen amenity did, making my arms stretch out as far as I could just to get whatever it was I needed to be heated up to actually go into the damn thing. 

Damn the rich for trying to be fancy where it was unnecessary!

Recently, I tried to adopt Nat’s efforts of never being seen doing the mundane daily act, and the last few times, I had been successful. My luck seemed to run out today...

Trying to make my task as quick as possible, I pulled the door down and stood on my tiptoes to push my now lukewarm coffee mug into the middle of the turntable. 

“You’re so close, Pixie,” I heard behind me, and I cringed, finding I was far from being in the clear. 

“Fuck off,” I grumbled, knowing the voice of the person the nickname had originated from. I accepted that the mug was in the microwave even if it wasn’t centered. 

“Those aren’t nice words,” Bucky retorted, and I could hear the smug grin on his face even if I didn’t bother to look over at him. 

“You’re an angry Pixie today,” Sam added, walking to the counter and grabbing a banana off the stand in the middle, and then going to the fridge for a drink. 

“I thought you guys were on a tactical mission,” I groaned, pushing the buttons that were also too high quickly to start the radioactive machine. 

When I turned around, Bucky was closer now but had propped himself on the side of the bartop of the counter that faced the seating area ahead. Sam was still head deep into the fridge, trying to decide on his drink of choice. 

“We were. Finished it early,” Sam hummed as he ducked his head to see all the varieties of sodas, waters, and juices Tony kept stocked. “Weren’t you supposed to be in a meeting?” 

“Canceled,” I answered shortly, glaring at Bucky, who seemed to still find my height funny as he grinned at me. “Stop looking at me like that.” 

“Like what?” he asked, playing coy. 

Instead of a response, I just sent him another hate-filled look. 

“Find a way to sue Tony yet?” Sam broke the stare-off we were having, and I didn’t process what he meant. 

“About what?” I looked at him.

“About the microwave being placed perfectly so that you look like a toddler trying to reach for the cookies on the top of the fridge,” Bucky answered for him.

I turned my head slowly and murderously to the brunette. 

“Out in the field isn’t the only place you can get killed,” I smiled, but there was no hint of joy or joking behind it—instead, a sadistic pull of my lips. 

“No threats,” he pointed at me with a warning Tony had started since forever ago, and I could see his shoulders tense even if he tried to hide the hint of discomfort. 

“Promises are different than threats,” I tilted my head with the smile still on my lips. 

“Stop that.” His body had ever so slightly leaned back. 

The microwave dinged before I could torment Bucky further, and I turned my head to look at it and then back at Sam. 

“I won’t replace your shampoo with nair if you get that for me,” I smiled, almost instantly turning the psychotic one into an innocent one. 

“Why would you do that, to begin with?” He asked, concerned, slowly moving to get my mug out of sheer fear. 

“I think you can take a decent guess,” I replied, watching him as he carefully brought the mug out and walked calculatingly to hand it to me. 

“Y/N,” he warned. 

“Hope you two have the day you deserve,” I skipped away, mimicking a child about to go prance through a field of flowers. 

“She scares me,” Sam whispered once I was out of the room. 

“Are we sure she’s not an evil serial killer on the side and just does this job to lessen her karma?” Bucky asked, their eyes still on the doorway I had left out of. 

—————————————-

“Bullshit!”

“I see they’ve started early,” Steve sighed, taking a tired sip of his coffee as he sat in the den where Bucky, Nat, Sam, and I were already up, causing chaos for the day.

“They got a bet going,” Sam explained while Steve sat beside him.

“What is it this time?” Steve questioned, looking between us three and keeping the lip of the mug close to his mouth.

“Bullshit!”

“Exactly that,” Sam smirked, grabbing his own cup of caffeine.

“Bucky claimed that Y/N couldn’t, and still hadn’t, beat him in Bullshit since our last Christmas party,” Nat said, joining on the other side of Steve with her own playing cards in hand, leaving him in the middle of the two. 

“I have beat him,” I mumbled, looking over my cards in hand as I debated on the next set to put down. “He just got the honorary win because we were called on a mission before I could put my cards down and go out.”

“If you didn’t get to play the winning hand, how did you win?” Bucky snarked, watching me carefully as I put two aces down. “Bullshit.” 

“Ha ha!” I pointed at him. “Pick 'em up, Buckaroo.” 

He rolled his eyes and looked down at the decent-sized pile of cards stacking up, seeing that I did, in fact, tell the truth and added them to his own hand. 

“Careful what you claim, Buck,” Steve retorted about more than one thing, only getting a middle finger in return from his friend, who stared at his new options. 

“There’s a larger bet hanging over this one,” Nat hummed, putting her two cards in before pulling her legs into a crossed position. 

“Yeah?” 

“If I win, he has to be my man-servant for the microwave,” I celebrated, putting down one three of clubs that I was lucky enough to have. My deck in hand was growing thinner and thinner. 

“And if not?” Steve asked. 

“If not, she can’t call me Buckaroo for five months,” Bucky mockingly sneered at me. 

“Actually, two weeks,” I shook my head, putting a card down. 

“If you’re so sure you’re going to win, why does it matter?” he said teasingly. I stuck my tongue out at him as a response. “Real mature.” 

“Just play your hand, Jackass.” 

He did, and on my turn, I went out.

“Hell, yes!” I jumped up and down, hands in the air, before doing a small victory dance. 

“How the hell?” Bucky looked absolutely flabbergasted by my win. “You had like ten cards left.” 

“Did I?” I cheered, showing my empty hands for effect. 

He turned to Nat, who had a grin on her face, and shrugged when she noticed his glare turned on her. 

“Don’t look at me. I played clean,” she laid her deck of cards neatly on the table and put her hands up in defense. 

“Fair win, Buck,” Steve laughed. 

“You’re my man-servant now,” I gleamed, dipping down to grab my mug of coffee and handing it to him. “Would you mind heating this up by chance? I forgot about it while I was busy kicking your ass.” 

“Yeah, because of how long it took you to do it,” he grumbled, not putting up a fight as he took it from my hand and stomped to the microwave passively. 

________________

Bucky’s POV

For the next week, Y/N multiplied her microwave use by a thousand. Things that didn’t even need microwaving were thrown in for two seconds sometimes, just to annoy me. 

She’d say stuff like, “Oh, perfect. It was just half a degree too cold,” or, “Careful, I burned my tongue last time 'cause you were too busy glaring at me to watch it. We don’t want to make that mistake again.” 

She even had me heat up Nat’s and Wanda’s food at one point, even though that wasn’t part of the bargain. Her reasoning should have had me leaving the room, but instead, Nat and Wanda had a nice glass of steaming apple cider in hand by the time I did leave. 

I was close to being done with it all and the constant nagging that accompanied it, so when I walked in and saw her in the kitchen today, I instantly turned on my heel and tried to run before she saw me… Luck wasn’t on my side...

“Oh, Buckaroo!” That name had multiplied its use as well... “I need to pop the popcorn for movie night, and I could use the help!”

I could have kept walking and brushed it off as if not hearing her, but no one was dumb enough to believe that. Damn my super hearing… And as annoyed as I was, I was a man of my word. I made a bet, and I lost. I only had six more days, eight hours, and 28 more minutes to go.

“Ten seconds at a time,” I muttered under my breath as I turned my direction back to the kitchen and stomped slowly to the microwave. 

I had been coming in here for my own hidden snacks for movie night and forgot that most of the team would be here for this night’s movie marathon. It had been a while since we all had some free time together, and even if the new chore had become irritating, Y/N was using it for good tonight by making sure everyone had their favorite popcorn in hand for the trilogy we were watching. 

“Why do you put all the work on yourself when they can come in here and make a bag themselves?” I asked, leaning on the counter where she was organizing the multiple varieties of popcorn we had stocked. She was measuring to make sure that everyone’s favorite was accounted for.

“Why not? It’s not hurting me,” she shrugged as if it was common sense and I was asking a dumb question. “Why do you pick the same two types of candy every time we have a movie night?” she shot back, looking at me and slightly nodding to the microwave. 

I took the message as I saw the timer count down from three and moved to grab the finished bag inside. 

“It’s a comfort food,” I argued my answer. 

“Exactly, and this is their comfort food. Plus, I don’t know, it’s one less step they have to map out. It’s already an exhausting part of our job having to think of the next step constantly, and it doesn’t bother me to do, so why not take an extra few actions so they don’t have to,” she simplified.

She handed me a prepped bag, ready for the microwave next. 

I took it and went back and forth for a while as I thought of her answer. 

I had learned over the years that Y/N’s love language had been acts of service, whether that was making sure that our favorite cereals were on the shopping list so we wouldn’t run out, or offering a blanket or pillow when she came into the same room as you before she got comfortable herself. 

We were almost always constantly tired from our jobs and just the general weight of the world on our shoulders some days. Having someone make popcorn for you on an off day was just one less action to do, and Y/N did more things to help us in that area than I had even tried to notice.

I had seen her acts of service being done, but mainly out of spite of not being one of the people who received them. Not because I wanted her to do things for me, more so the thought behind it. 

We bickered and got on each other’s nerves a lot, more so just to poke at her and see that fire in the pixie’s eyes on my end, but I didn’t get this kind of treatment as often. I had accepted it at this point, but the few times she had extended that kind of care to me, it felt like burning a candle on a fall day after deep cleaning for eight hours. Something about it put you at peace and made you feel even more at home. 

Maybe this deserved a conversation with her, even if I was terrified to wander into those grounds. 

We had quietly shuffled around the kitchen, and I had taken on the job as her co-chef as I grabbed multi-colored popcorn bowls to empty the bags into and organize them according to type. 

“Peter likes the bowl that looks like the Death Star cut in half,” she pointed at one of the bowls I had pulled down. “Tony got it for him for Christmas last year, and he uses it every movie night.” She smiled as she turned back to grab one of the last bags from the microwave. 

She was saying something about adding the extra-extra movie butter popcorn bags to that bowl, but I was already moving to her side to grab the bag that was just out of reach from her fingertips in the microwave. 

Her back molded into my chest as I reached over her, pulled the brown paper bag out, and handed it down to her. I wasn’t massively bigger than her, but the nickname Pixie held its title well. 

“I had it,” she looked up at me from behind, and damn it, if that didn’t stir something in me. 

The intimate position had me feeling a new kind of warmth, different from the subtle glow of a candle in a pristine room. Instead, a weird and fuzzy feeling of realization made goosebumps form up my arms, but I didn’t quite understand what it was. 

Was this a form of anxiety I hadn’t felt yet?  I snapped out of it when I noticed I had stayed there a beat too long, and Y/N looked worried.

“We made a deal,” I said, grabbing the last bag to pop out of her hand and placing it in the microwave. “I’m a man of my word,” I added, clearing my throat and reminding myself out loud that that was the only reason I was not moving from my spot with her back in my chest and our bodies practically molding into the others. 

“You really hold up your end of the bargain,” she smiled and ducked under my arm, immediately leaving me in the cold. 

I snapped out of the headspace I was thrown into without a choice and shook my head as I helped her finish the last few tasks before accompanying her to the movie den. 

My days were almost up with being Y/N’s personal microwave-er, but for whatever reason, there was this new realization I had that made the excuse of being near her in this way not as frustrating.

I made it an excuse to try and get closer to her again and again, and not just for kitchen amenity requirements, but anytime she couldn’t reach something, which I was learning was a lot. 

Any form of aid, like trying to get a box from the top of the pantry, trying to reach a book or file on the top of a shelf, or trying to put a mug back when she was emptying the dishwasher. 

Currently, I had walked by her room, door open, and saw her struggling to hang a new picture frame on her wall, being just a few inches too short as normal. 

“Fucking hell.” I heard her mumble as she looked around for a chair. 

Before she could move from her spot, I was already behind her, hanging it to the spot she was replacing. 

“Oh, thanks,” she said, but the tone in her voice wasn’t a grateful one. “What is going on with you?” She turned and crossed her arms, looking up at me while I centered the gold frame before pulling away. 

“What do you mean?” I cleared my throat, not sure if I even knew what I was doing. 

“Don’t play coy,” she leaned back on her heel, anchoring her stance at me. 

“We made a deal,” I answered, even though it was a half-assed one, but it was better than admitting what I was feeling. Or at least I thought it was…

“For the microwave. Mind you, that ends tomorrow,” she pointed out. “What’s with all the extra help suddenly?” 

I hesitated, not sure what route I wanted to take. 

“I realized you have more things you struggle with than just in the kitchen. I figured you’d be happy to be getting a bang for your buck.”

“Bang for my Buck?” she said back with a raised eyebrow, and I heard it even if I didn’t mean it that way. Or did I?

“Yeah, getting what you bargained for,” I swallowed thickly, seeing a new fire in her eye I didn’t understand. 

“Bang for my buck, or are you trying to get a bang for your buck?” she said softly, taking a step forward. 

I froze as our chests were inches from touching, and she looked up at me in a way that would make any man melt. 

“It was the bet,” I cleared my throat, and the sound of something in the hall broke our attention from each other. “I should go check on that,” I stepped back, stabbing my thumb behind me but failing to pull my eyes from hers. 

“Should you?” she shrugged, with a sly smirk on her lips. 

I couldn’t help but stare when her tongue slowly came out to wet her lips. When I looked back at her eyes, all traces of annoyance were gone, and elements of lust took over. 

“You hate me,” I stated, knowing- or at least thinking I knew- that this feeling of chemistry would ruin us if we gave into it.  

“I don’t recall ever saying that,” she tilted her head to the side, never breaking eye contact with me.

“Actions speak louder than words,” I swallowed when the two-inch gap between us became one. 

“Why so nervous?” she ignored me. 

I hesitated because there were a million things going through my brain to answer why I was stiffening at the change in energy between us. 

“We shouldn’t-”

“Actions speak louder than words, though. And hate to break it to ya, but your actions have been showing otherwise.” Her fingers brushed my chest, and I held back a shiver that threatened to escape. “I’ll stop if you want,” she offered, halting her hand in the middle of my sternum and looking up at me before smiling mischievously again. “But you have to say something.”

My jaw tensed, and I saw her trying to read the emotions on my face. Unlucky for her, she had just flipped a switch I don’t think she meant to touch. 

I immediately turned and, with determination, walked to the door. I heard a subtle “pft” behind me like she was disappointed in my choice, but she was sorely wrong if she thought I was leaving now. She didn’t get to look at me with those eyes, bite those damn lips, and make threats she didn’t plan on following through with. 

With a quick slam, I bolted the door handle and turned to look at her from my spot. 

Now I had the upper hand, and her eyebrows were raising. 

“It’s not nice to make threats,” I said lowly and took slow and careful steps closer. I could see her go rigid now. “Unless, of course, this is actually one of your promises. Either way, don’t say something you’ll regret following through with.” 

“Should I regret it?” she hummed, and even if she looked more relaxed, I could tell she was still trying to read me and couldn’t quite follow if I was serious or teasing her back. 

“How good is your judgment?” I asked, doubling my stride until my hands were on her hips, and she was pinned to me. A sharp intake was the instant response I got from her. 

“I’m starting to wonder if it’s losing its edge right about now…” Her chest heaved in quick motions, but she tried to act as if unphased by the proximity. 

“I’ll stop right now,” I mimicked her words from earlier, but not without lowering my face to hers and stopping mere centimeters from her lips. “But you have to speak up.” 

Her breath was on my lips as her own parted, waiting for clarity to come back to her, but she stayed looking over my features, debating all her choices. 

“Answer me this,” her hands slowly and delicately took my forearms as she held me in place, our hips brushing each other in close proximity. My hands couldn’t help but squeeze in a possessive manner. “When did you realize it?”

“Realize what?” Our nearness made the tips of our noses brush, and the heat between us grew with each passing second.

“That you wanted this?” Her hands traveled up to my elbows, and she needily pulled me closer, causing our lower halves to slam in friction. 

I stifled a low moan, even if it took all the willpower in my body to do so. 

“Darling.” One of my hands on her waist moved to her lower back, and I pulled her in enough for our chest to connect next. The other hand released to come up and cup her jaw. “I’d be lying to you and myself if I said it hasn’t been a daydream of mine for a while.”

She tried to hide her smile by biting the inside of her cheek, and my thumb brushed over the movement. 

“It’s taken you fucking forever to do something about it,” she replied breathily. 

“Made it damn hard to know the feelings were mutual, doll,” I said back, looking down at her lips and keeping my attention there for a second longer to prove my point. 

“Where’s the fun in easy?” she said, pulling me into her, and our lips crashed without hesitation. 

I was hungry for something I’d been starved of for far too long, and the feeling seemed to be reciprocated on her end because the next thing I knew, we were pulling and tearing at each other’s clothes like they were on fire, and we had seconds to live before they consumed us. 

“We should make more bets,” she said breathlessly as she moved feverishly to undo the buttons on her jeans.

“I agree, Pixie,” I huffed, throwing her shirt off before moving to take mine off next. 

“I bet you can’t make me-”

“Oh, there are going to be a lot of things I’m gonna make you do after waiting this long. No bet’s necessary…” 

I pushed her back on the bed, and she fell back on her elbows, looking up at me with wide eyes and a blushed complexion. 

“I like the way you talk, Barnes. Now show me instead of telling me.”

​​​​​​​​​​

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @death-unbecomes-you @mythos-writes​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  @srrymydood​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @xa-dia​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @redhairedfeistynerd​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @morganclaire4​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @connie326​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @captain-asguard​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @mollygetssherlockcoffee​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @livstilinski @basicallylool​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @starryeyeseunbyul​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravicente​ @kakakatey​ @traceyaudette​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @thefaithfulwriter1​ @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​  @xostephanie​ @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​ @gh0stgurl​ @cs-please​ @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​​ @alyispunk​​ @billyseye @hallecarey1​​

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker​ @charmedbysarge​ @jbarness​ @bellamy-barnes​ @katiaw2​ @aikeia​ @stopjustlovethemcu​ @enchantedbarnes

[winniethewife]

Kinktober day 8

Day Eight: Cockwarming (Tony Stark x reader)

Warnings: smut under the cut, nsfw, 18+, FemBodied, plot, P!inV!,punishment, begging, Unprotected sex

Minors DNI

Words: 650

“Tony…”

“Shhh…just let me, look at you.” Tony looked over you with pride and lust in his eyes.

“You can’t be serious, this is barely a dress.” She remarks as she tried to pull down the short skirt to no avail.

“Hm? Oh yeah definitely, Nobody will question your credentials in that.”

“I thought my years in undercover training was supposed to help us with that, but what do I know…” She Rolls her eyes

“Oh probably, but I like this method way more.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her and she sighed in frustration

“Whatever”

Hours later, Tony’s driving them back from the party where they were supposed to get the information from. “Supposed to’ is the key phrase. She’s pinching the bridge of her nose and muttering curses under her breath.

“It wasn’t that bad.” Tony mutters

“Oh, really? I would say it was pretty much a disaster Tony.”  She says with venom in her voice.

“You kept flirting with that guy! I couldn’t focus.” He tried to defend himself

“I was distracting him, so you could get the information dimwit. You know, doing my job?” she looks at him pointedly.

“I’m sleeping on the couch aren’t I?”

“Oh no, I have a much worse punishment in mind.” And she did, as he would find out. As they lay bed, she sat on cock. Not moving. Just sitting there. It was absolute torture, and absolute heaven at the same time. It didn’t help that He had stripped down entirely naked and she was still wearing that dress.

 “Come on sweetie. Let’s just forget about this… Baby please.” He pleads with her as her wet pussy contracts around him, he couldn’t honestly tell which muscle movements were intentional and which were purely coincidental.

“Oh no you’re not getting out of this easily. You totally screwed our mission and Fury will chew me out tomorrow like I’m a piece of his favorite gum. And it’s not even my fault this went poorly. It’s yours. So suck up and deal.” She smirks slightly at his pouty face and puppy dog eyes. She’s not gonna fall for it. She clenches around him, refusing to move, warming his cock. He let out an uncharacteristic whine as she does this.

“That’s stupid…I mean maybe I deserve it…but I still hate it.” Tony grumbles like a toddler who was just told he could only have one piece of candy. She lifted her her hips and slammed down on him once, causing him to groan.

“Enough back talk or I can find a better way to spend my time.” She uses a tone of voice that makes it very clear to tony that she isn’t kidding.

“Yes ma’am.”  He says with a smirk, which quickly disappears from his face as he feels his cock twitch inside her. Every involuntary movement made this whole situation that much better, and that much worse. He would have thought that he would have gone soft by now but every time he thinks hes going to she does something that sends the flag back up the pole. A slight shift of her hips, a single thrust, clenching down on him, she knew exactly how to play him, like an instrument she had taken years to master. It was like this for nearly half an hour when she started to rock her hips back and forth. Her own will to continue like this waning. That’s when Tony knew he had a chance.

“Come on sweetie, let me make it up to you…” He leans forward and takes her hips in his hands lifting her slightly off his cock, then back down. Both of them already on the edge of over stimulation. A moan escapes her lips as he does this. She may be a stubborn woman, but she was still a woman with needs.

“Alright. But you’re not really off the hook…yet…”

~

Kinktober masterlist

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Scott and Hope’s child (Hank Jr. Edition)

Scott Lang/Hope van Dyne x child!reader

warnings:

a/n:

prompt: anonymous: “Scott and Hope have a baby girl (reader). And everything seems to be fine, but somewhere from the age of five, it becomes clear that the reader is a complete copy of her grandfather Hank Pym, that is: she is incredibly smart, she loves ants (she can talk about them for hours), she also has problems controlling anger (she hit a guy in the face at school for saying that ant-man sucks), thinks that there is no one smarter than her and her grandfather, and she also transferred his sarcastic communication style and views on things and people around, for example, when she first met Tony, she said: "You can never trust Stark."”

somewhere in the distant future a special kid was born

and that special kid had special parents and special grandparents

and those parents and grandparents were two generations of superheroes who saved countless lives (and, well, the world)

so it was no surprise to them that this next generation would be just as intelligent and caring as the ones before them

*cue a toddler with crayons in class*

“and then my grandpa asked the ants nicely to fly him to a bunch of different places and do all these cool things like move stuff around and like do other stuff” -you rambling on

“do you like anything besides ants?” -your teacher

“no” -you, continuing to draw ants on your paper

hank and janet were quite proud grandparents

and scott and hope, your wonderful amazing parents…couldn’t get enough of it

“honey, what about wasps? wasps are cool, right?” -hope

“no” -you

“she’s spending too much time with my dad” -hope

“well, he’s the only babysitter we’ve got since cassie got that new job” -scott

“oh, you mean our old job? yeah, miss those days where we could go flying around getting into trouble and beating people up” -hope

“well, you promised we’d retire so y/n wouldn’t end up with a childhood like yours” -scott

“y/n’s gonna want to be a superhero when they get older, arent they?” -hope

“let’s not think too far ahead. it might kill me” -scott

scott reads you his biography every night before bed

and you always giggle at the parts where your mom and grandpa bully him

“hey, not funny!” -scott

“so funny” -you

“dont get any ideas” -scott

“daddy, are you gonna get arrested again?” -you

“if i do it’ll be grandpa hank’s fault” -scott

you continued spending time with grandpa hank and grandma janet

and they spoiled the crap out of you

hank…got you an ant farm

“now you’re just being ridiculous, hank” -janet

“what? i’m just having some bonding time with my grandchild! hope never wanted anything to do with me growing up” -hank

once you started getting older, you wanted to hang out in grandpa’s lab allll the time. day and night

your parents hated it

“hey, think this one will suck us all into the quantum realm?” -scott

“it was one time!” -cassie

cassie was at hank and janet’s a lot, too, actually. they always wanted to help her with her suits and gadgets and all that

and make sure she had plenty of pym particles

“you have enough, right? here, take some more, i have plenty” -hank

“grandpa, please, i have more than enough, thank you” -cassie

“can i have some pym particles?” -you

“we can play with them in the backyard next time youre over” -hank

you draw new suit designs for cassie all the time

some of them she actually incorporates into her suits

and as you get older, you try to start designing more tech for her

“y/n is really scaring me” -hope

“why?” -scott

“just watch her and my parents together…they’re the same” -hope

“dear god, what have we done” -scott

“dad, look at this new pym particle powered weapon, i just finished the prototype!” -you

“okay, now i’m mad because where was this when i needed it!” -scott

“fifteen to twenty years too late” -hope

“we should have gotten together sooner” -scott

“i disagree” -hope

“wow, not even a pity agreement” -scott

asking your parents if they’ll get back into crime fighting

they said no

asking if you can get into crime fighting

they said no again

so you just kinda stockpiled all your ideas

and did everything you could to further your grandpa’s work

and help your sister

and keep your parents’ minds at ease (doesn’t really work)

and maybe one day you’ll be able to ride those ants and kick some ass like you always dreamed

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @zoeyserpentluck // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 //

[amethystarachnid]

I read your last Tony one-shot, and this “That said, I wouldn’t mind seeing Stark try to handle a teenage girl someday.” made me thing that this prompt Christmas Morning with the Kids is perfect for Tony 🤣 Tony + reader with a teenage girl and two little boys (or more, it’s up to you), Christmas morning, lots of love, I think it’s perfect ❤️

CHRISTMAS MORNING - part I

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

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

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 4.1k

ᯓ★ Summary: Life with a teenage daughter, twins boys and a toddler is always chaotic but on Christmas morning? Oh it is pure chaos.

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing

ᯓ★ Part II

ᯓ★ I merged the two requests because the second one didn't specify anything, hope you both like it! <3

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

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

Tony’s warm body is pressed against your side, his arm slung lazily over your waist as you drift in and out of sleep. The glow of the early morning filters through the heavy curtains, and you nestle deeper into the cocoon of your shared blanket, trying to fend off the faint chill in the room. You know it’s Christmas morning, but a part of you is holding on to the luxurious laziness of waking up slowly, in no rush to face the chaos awaiting you downstairs.

That delusion is shattered within seconds.

There’s the distinct sound of heavy, rapid footsteps in the hallway, followed by a breathless, high-pitched “They’re still asleep!” in a stage whisper that echoes through the door.

Before you can even brace yourself, the door flies open, slamming against the wall with an unceremonious bang. Your seven-year-old twins, Alex and Howard, charge into the room like two pint-sized tornadoes, all gangly limbs and boundless energy.

“MOM! DAD! IT’S CHRISTMAS!” Alex shouts, his voice nearly cracking with excitement.

“Wake up! Santa came!” Howard adds, punctuating his declaration by leaping onto the bed with a war cry. He lands on Tony, who lets out a theatrical groan, his arm slipping off your waist.

“Oh, for the love of—” Tony grumbles, voice muffled by the pillow he’s shoved his face into. “Santa didn’t come. He texted me last night saying he was stuck in traffic. Maybe next year.”

“Liar!” Alex accuses, climbing up onto your side of the bed and flopping down against you with all the grace of a hyperactive puppy.

Meanwhile, Howard is enthusiastically bouncing on Tony’s back, yelling, “Dad, Dad, wake up! Mom, he’s not waking up! Should we pour water on him?”

“Do not pour water on me,” Tony warns without lifting his head. “Or I’m canceling Christmas forever.”

“Like you could cancel Christmas,” Cora’s sarcastic drawl cuts through the chaos as she appears in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame with her arms crossed. Your teenage daughter looks impossibly cool for someone who’s been up this early, her messy curls tucked into a Santa hat and an expression that screams she’s simultaneously over it and secretly enjoying the spectacle.

“Thank you, Cora,” you sigh, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and trying to sit up. Alex clings to you like a koala, making it a near-impossible task.

“Don’t thank me. I’m just here for the fallout,” she says, smirking as Howard accidentally knees Tony in the ribs while attempting a dramatic reenactment of Santa’s sleigh taking off.

“Why do we have so many kids?” Tony mutters, finally rolling onto his back and catching Howard mid-bounce. He pulls the boy into a mock wrestling hold, trapping him with a grin that matches Howard’s exactly. “You! You’re under arrest for excessive energy on a federal holiday.”

Howard dissolves into a fit of giggles, his squirming waking Estelle, who’s tucked away in her crib at the corner of the room. A sleepy whine signals her arrival to the party, and you groan, trying to extricate yourself from Alex’s grasp.

“I’ve got her,” you tell Tony, nudging Alex off you gently and swinging your legs over the side of the bed. The chill of the hardwood floor makes you shiver, and you hurriedly scoop Estelle up before she can fully wake and start wailing.

“Mama,” she mumbles sleepily, her chubby fists clutching the neckline of your sleep shirt. You press a kiss to her unruly curls, swaying slightly to soothe her.

“She’s up!” Alex declares like it’s the most exciting development of the morning.

“No kidding,” Tony says, finally managing to sit up. He ruffles Howard’s hair, the boy now sprawled across his lap. “Cora, tell me you brought coffee.”

“Do I look like a barista?” she fires back, though there’s a twinkle of amusement in her dark eyes. “You’ve got two legs. Use them.”

“Three, technically,” Tony quips, pointing to Estelle perched on your hip. “But she’s not a coffee-fetching age yet. That’s a two-year-old skill, right?”

You roll your eyes, bouncing Estelle lightly as she starts to babble nonsense into your neck. “Do you want coffee or not?”

“Desperately,” he says, throwing off the covers and scooping Howard up in one smooth motion. The boy squeals, kicking his legs as Tony spins him around like a sack of potatoes. “Alright, troops! Let’s move this operation downstairs. Santa won’t wait forever.”

“Santa already came,” Cora corrects him with an exaggerated sigh, leading the charge out of the room with a nonchalant wave over her shoulder.

Tony gives you a sheepish grin as you follow her with Estelle, Alex trailing close behind. “At least she’s consistent,” he says, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Merry Christmas, by the way.”

“Merry Christmas,” you reply, nudging him playfully. “And for the record, I’m blaming you for the chaos genes in all of them.”

“Fair,” he admits with a wink. “But you love me anyway.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. “Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately,” he echoes with a chuckle, as the sounds of your children’s laughter and excitement fill the house.

You follow the stampede of your children down the staircase, Estelle still snug in your arms. Her tiny hands tug at the collar of your shirt as she mumbles sleepily, “Downstairs. ‘Telle pancakes.”

Tony, close behind you, catches that and grins. “Hear that? She wants pancakes. Girl’s got excellent taste already.”

“Wonder where she gets it from,” you reply dryly, shifting Estelle to your other hip as you step into the open living room. The sight before you makes your breath catch for a moment: the massive tree glistening with twinkling lights, the piles of colorfully wrapped presents spilling out from underneath, and the faint scent of pine mingling with the lingering warmth of the fireplace.

“Whoa!” Alex exclaims, his eyes wide as he takes in the sheer number of gifts. He and Howard make a beeline for the tree, their hands already itching to tear into the wrapping paper.

“Wait, wait, wait!” you shout, setting Estelle down and hurrying to intercept the twins. You plant yourself in front of the tree, arms outstretched like a referee. “No presents until after breakfast.”

“That’s child cruelty,” Howard protests, folding his arms in exaggerated indignation.

“Yeah!” Alex echoes, pouting. “We’ll starve!”

“You just ate a mountain of cookies last night,” you remind them, narrowing your eyes playfully. “Pretty sure you’ll survive until pancakes.”

“They’re growing boys,” Tony chimes in from the kitchen, his voice teasing. “You’re stunting their emotional development.”

You shoot him a mock glare as he saunters over to the stovetop, already pulling out the griddle pan and the ingredients for his signature pancakes. “I’m about to stunt your emotional development if you don’t back me up on this.”

Tony smirks, cracking an egg into the bowl with one hand. “Relax, honey. Pancakes are coming up. No one’s opening anything until we all eat as a family,” he says, enunciating the last word like he’s laying down the law.

“Fine,” Howard grumbles, flopping onto the couch in defeat. Alex follows, though his gaze keeps darting longingly back toward the tree.

Cora rolls her eyes as she plops into an armchair, pulling her phone out of the pocket of her oversized pajama pants. “You guys are so dramatic. They’re just presents.”

“That’s because you’re too cool to get excited about gifts anymore,” Alex retorts, sticking his tongue out at her.

“I’m plenty excited,” she says, deadpan, without looking up from her screen.

Meanwhile, Estelle toddles over to you, her little hands reaching up to tug on the hem of your pajama pants. “Mama! I help pancakes?”

You crouch down, brushing her messy curls out of her face. “You want to help Daddy make pancakes?”

“Yesss!” she chirps, her eyes lighting up.

“Alright,” you say, scooping her up and carrying her into the kitchen. “You’re on pancake duty, little miss.”

Tony looks up as you set Estelle on a chair beside the counter. “Ah, my sous-chef has arrived!” He grabs a small plastic whisk from the drawer and hands it to her. “Alright, Estelle. Stir the batter like this, okay?” He demonstrates with exaggerated movements, which she copies with gleeful determination.

“Mix-mix-mix!” Estelle chants, splashing a bit of batter onto the counter. You grab a paper towel to clean it up, grinning at the sight of Tony encouraging her with a dramatic chef’s commentary.

“You’ve got a natural talent, kiddo,” he tells her. “I see a future in Michelin-starred pancake artistry.”

“She’s two,” you remind him, though you’re laughing.

“Never too early to start thinking about college,” he quips, flipping the first pancake onto a waiting plate with a flourish.

“Where’s mine?” Alex calls from the living room, earning a chorus of similar demands from Howard.

“Patience is a virtue, boys!” Tony shouts back, stacking another golden pancake onto the growing pile.

You glance at the table and start setting out plates, silverware, and glasses. Cora, noticing the motion, sets her phone aside and starts helping without being asked. It’s a small thing, but it warms your heart—she might act too cool for her siblings, but she’s always got a quiet way of pitching in when it counts.

“Alright!” Tony announces, carrying a platter of pancakes to the table. “Breakfast is served! Everyone take a seat.”

Chaos ensues as Alex and Howard sprint to the table, their earlier frustration forgotten. Estelle claps her hands excitedly, repeating, “Pancakes! Pancakes!” as you carry her over to her high chair.

As everyone settles in, Tony winks at you. “Nothing like a Christmas breakfast to get the day started.”

“You mean nothing like a Christmas breakfast to delay the madness of unwrapping gifts,” you reply with a smirk, passing Estelle a small plate with a cut-up pancake.

She picks up a piece with her tiny fingers and holds it up proudly. “Big pancake!”

“Yes, baby, it’s a big pancake,” you say, kissing the top of her head.

The table buzzes with chatter and laughter as the kids dig into their food. Tony keeps up a steady stream of banter, teasing Cora about her phone addiction and making the twins giggle with ridiculous stories about “Santa’s Pancake Factory.” Estelle insists on feeding you a sticky, syrup-drenched bite, which you accept with an exaggerated “Mmm!” that makes her giggle uncontrollably.

“Alright,” Tony says as he leans back in his chair, sipping his coffee. “Breakfast conquered. What’s next?”

You glance toward the living room, where the tree and its mountain of presents beckon. “I think we all know what’s next.”

The moment the last fork clatters onto a plate, the twins leap from their chairs and sprint toward the tree like they’ve been shot out of cannons. Alex dives headfirst into the mountain of gifts, with Howard hot on his heels, their excitement almost tangible.

“Wait!” you call out, rushing to catch up. “We need to take turns so we can all see what everyone gets. No free-for-all!”

“Yes, Mom,” Howard groans, dragging out the word as though it’s the most tedious rule in existence.

Tony strolls into the living room, scooping Estelle out of her high chair on the way and balancing her on his hip. “Listen to your mom, guys,” he says with a mock-serious tone. “Otherwise, Santa’s gonna find out and revoke your gift privileges for next year.”

The boys freeze mid-motion, wide-eyed, clearly weighing whether their dad is serious. You suppress a laugh, knowing full well they’ll believe anything remotely Santa-related for at least a few more years.

“Okay, fine,” Alex concedes, settling cross-legged on the floor.

Cora takes her time getting comfortable in the armchair, her ever-present air of teenage coolness intact. Still, there’s a flicker of anticipation in her expression as she surveys the pile of gifts.

“Alright, Estelle, you’re up first,” you announce, crouching by the tree to grab a small box with her name on it.

Tony sets her down on the rug, where she plops onto her diapered bottom and claps her hands. “Mine!”

“Yes, this one’s yours,” you say, handing it to her. “Go ahead.”

With a focus that’s almost comical, Estelle tugs at the wrapping paper, tearing off little strips until the box underneath is finally revealed. She gasps audibly as she lifts the lid, her tiny face lighting up when she sees the stuffed unicorn nestled inside.

“Corn! Mine corn!” she exclaims, hugging the plush toy tightly to her chest.

“Unicorn,” Tony corrects gently, crouching beside her. “And yes, it’s yours, sweet pea.”

She beams up at him, her joy so pure that it tugs at your heart. “Thank you, Dada!”

“You’re welcome, princess,” he says, ruffling her curls.

The boys go next, and the room erupts into cheers and shouts of delight as they tear through their gifts. Alex nearly loses his mind over the LEGO Star Wars Millennium Falcon set he’s been asking for, while Howard can’t contain his excitement when he unwraps the shiny new electric scooter he’s been dreaming about.

“Oh man, this is the best Christmas ever!” Alex declares, holding up a Nerf gun almost as big as he is.

“Don’t shoot your brother,” you warn as Howard eyes the same toy in his pile.

“No promises,” Tony murmurs under his breath, earning a swat on the arm from you.

Cora watches the chaos with an amused smirk, opening her gifts with a calmness that stands in stark contrast to her brothers’ whirlwind energy. Her eyes light up when she unwraps the vintage vinyl record player you and Tony picked out, and she can’t suppress a grin when she finds the stack of classic rock albums tucked beside it.

“You guys actually remembered,” she says, her tone betraying the faintest hint of gratitude.

“Of course we remembered,” Tony says, leaning casually against the back of the couch. “I’m not that old yet.”

“You’re ancient,” Cora fires back, though the smile on her face takes the sting out of her words.

Once the kids have opened all their gifts and are busy playing with their new treasures, Tony reaches for the neatly wrapped box you prepared for him. He shoots you a look that’s equal parts curiosity and mischief as he tears into the paper.

Inside, he finds a sleek, custom leather jacket embossed with the Stark Industries logo and subtle accents that reflect his personal style. His eyes widen in surprise, and a genuine smile spreads across his face.

“This is amazing,” he says, running a hand over the soft leather. “You’ve got good taste, Mrs. Stark.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” you reply, grinning as he pulls you into a quick kiss.

“Your turn,” he says, handing you a small box with a perfectly tied bow.

You open it carefully, your heart skipping a beat as you reveal a delicate gold bracelet adorned with tiny charms representing each member of your family—a star for Tony, a heart for you, and four miniature initials for the kids.

“Oh, Tony,” you whisper, your voice catching slightly. “It’s beautiful.”

“Just like you,” he says softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Merry Christmas, honey.”

Before the moment can grow too sentimental, Cora clears her throat loudly. “Okay, this is gross. Can we move on?”

You laugh, wiping at the corner of your eye. “Fine, fine. What’s next?”

Without answering, Cora reaches under the tree, pulling out two small, sloppily wrapped gifts that you hadn’t noticed before. She holds them out, one in each hand, looking uncharacteristically sheepish.

“These are…for you guys,” she says, glancing between you and Tony. “I got them with my own money, so they’re not, like, fancy or anything.”

For a moment, you’re stunned. Cora is notoriously tight-fisted with her allowance, and the thought of her spending it on something for you and Tony nearly undoes you.

“Sweetheart,” you say, your voice trembling slightly, “you didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” she interrupts, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. “Just…open them before I change my mind.”

Tony takes one of the gifts while you take the other. The wrapping is haphazard, with too much tape in some places and too little in others, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

You unwrap yours first, revealing a small, framed photo of the entire family taken during your summer vacation. The picture captures a rare, candid moment of pure joy, and your throat tightens as you trace your fingers over the glass.

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

Tony opens his next, revealing a simple black mug with bold white letters that read: World’s Okayest Dad. He bursts out laughing, holding it up for everyone to see.

“This,” he says, his voice shaking with mirth, “is the greatest mug in the history of mugs.”

Cora rolls her eyes, but there’s a flicker of pride in her expression. “Glad you like it.”

“Like it? I love it,” Tony says, setting the mug down and pulling her into a quick hug. “You’re the best, kid.”

You join the embrace, wrapping your arms around both of them. “Thank you, Cora. These are the best gifts we could’ve asked for.”

The boys glance over from where they’re playing with their new toys, looking momentarily confused by the group hug. Estelle toddles over and squeezes herself into the mix, her chubby arms wrapping around your leg.

“Family hug!” she declares, her voice bright and clear.

You look at Tony over the top of Cora’s head, your eyes meeting his in a silent exchange of love and gratitude. This, you realize, is what Christmas is all about—not the gifts, not the chaos, but the moments of connection that make your family feel whole.

“Alright,” Tony says after a moment, his voice a little hoarse. “Let’s not get too sappy. Who’s ready for round two of pancakes?”

“Me!” the boys shout in unison, and just like that, the room is alive with laughter again.

The afternoon sunlight streams through the living room windows as the kids scatter around the house, their post-gift-opening energy reaching chaotic levels. Estelle is napping in her crib, clutching her beloved new unicorn, while the boys are deeply engrossed in building the LEGO Millennium Falcon on the coffee table. Cora has disappeared into her usual spot on the armchair, headphones in, pretending to ignore her brothers while sneakily keeping an eye on them.

You’re nestled on the couch beside Tony, sipping hot cocoa and enjoying the rare moment of relative calm. He’s idly flipping through his phone, likely working on some project even though it’s Christmas. You nudge him with your elbow.

“No work today, remember?” you say, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m just checking emails,” he protests, flashing you a quick grin. “Not technically work.”

Before you can reply, the doorbell rings, breaking the peace. Cora’s head pops up from behind her headphones, and she springs to her feet with an uncharacteristic level of enthusiasm.

“I’ll get it!” she calls, already halfway to the door.

Tony narrows his eyes, watching her dart down the hallway. “That was suspiciously quick. What’s she up to?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” you reply, though you can’t help but feel a twinge of curiosity yourself.

Tony sets his phone down and follows Cora at a leisurely pace, with you trailing after him. When you round the corner, you see Cora standing at the door, holding a neatly wrapped package handed to her by a delivery man. She thanks him quickly and tries to retreat toward the stairs, but Tony steps in front of her like a human barricade.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he says, crossing his arms. “What’s in the box?”

“Nothing,” Cora says a little too quickly, clutching the package to her chest. “It’s just…a thing.”

“A thing?” Tony echoes, raising an eyebrow. “A mysterious, suspicious thing?”

“Dad, come on,” she groans, trying to sidestep him. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh, but it is,” Tony insists, his playful tone belying the intense curiosity in his eyes. “You can’t just run off with a secret package on Christmas and expect me not to investigate.”

“Tony,” you say gently, though you’re equally intrigued. “Maybe we should let her—”

“No way,” he interrupts, looking more determined now. “Cora Stark, you unwrap that package right here, right now.”

Cora glances at you, her expression torn between exasperation and pleading. “Mom?”

You shrug, biting back a smile. “He’s not going to let it go.”

With a dramatic sigh, Cora slumps onto the nearest chair, placing the package on her lap. “Fine. But don’t freak out.”

Tony squats down in front of her, his eyes narrowing. “Why would I freak out? Should I be freaking out?”

Ignoring him, Cora carefully peels back the wrapping paper, revealing a simple white box. She hesitates for a moment before lifting the lid, revealing a small collection of thoughtful, handmade gifts—a beaded bracelet, a framed photo of the two of them at some school event, and a handwritten note.

“What is this?” Tony asks, frowning as he picks up the bracelet. “Did…did someone make this for you?”

Cora clears her throat, a faint blush creeping into her cheeks. “It’s from Ryan.”

“Ryan?” Tony repeats, the name dripping with suspicion. “Who’s Ryan?”

“A boy from school,” she says, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. “We’ve been…you know, kind of dating.”

“Dating?” Tony’s voice jumps an octave, and he stares at you like you’ve just betrayed him. “You knew about this?”

“I knew,” you admit calmly, trying not to laugh at his reaction. “She told me a couple of weeks ago.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” he exclaims, his hands flying up in mock outrage. “I’m her father! I should know these things!”

“Maybe because you’d act exactly like this,” Cora mutters under her breath.

Tony ignores her, turning back to you with a mock-wounded expression. “Unbelievable. My own wife, conspiring against me.”

“Tony,” you say, laying a hand on his shoulder, “she’s fifteen. This is normal.”

“Normal?” he repeats, as though the word offends him. “Do you know what teenage boys are like? I used to be one.”

“Exactly,” you counter, giving him a pointed look. “Which means you should trust that Cora knows what she’s doing.”

“She doesn’t,” he insists, gesturing wildly. “She’s a kid! She—wait, is this the guy who came to the science fair? The one with the glasses?”

“Yes,” Cora says, rolling her eyes. “And he’s really sweet. He made me that bracelet and wrote me that note, so can you stop acting like he’s a supervillain?”

Tony narrows his eyes, clearly still skeptical, and picks up the note. As he reads it, his expression softens ever so slightly. “Huh,” he mutters, grudgingly. “His handwriting’s pretty neat.”

“See?” Cora says, her exasperation giving way to a tentative smile. “He’s a good guy.”

Tony grumbles something under his breath before straightening up and looking at you. “What’s the protocol here? Do I have to meet him? Give him a lecture about respecting my daughter?”

“I already gave him the lecture,” Cora says quickly, standing up and gathering her gifts. “You can meet him later. Maybe. If you behave.”

Tony snorts. “If I behave? Kid, I invented behaving.”

“That’s a lie, and we all know it,” you interject, patting his arm. “Why don’t you just take this as a chance to prove you’re the cool dad?”

“I am the cool dad,” Tony grumbles, but he doesn’t stop Cora as she heads toward the stairs, her gifts clutched protectively in her arms.

As soon as she’s out of earshot, Tony collapses onto the couch dramatically, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not ready for this,” he declares, staring at the ceiling.

“She’s growing up,” you say, sitting beside him and leaning into his side. “It’s not a bad thing, Tony.”

“Yeah, but…a boyfriend?” He groans, rubbing his temples. “What happened to the days when her favorite person was me?”

“Those days haven’t gone away,” you assure him with a smile. “You’re just sharing the spotlight now.”

He lets out a heavy sigh, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. “Fine. But if this Ryan kid so much as looks at her wrong—”

“You’ll what? Challenge him to a duel?” you tease.

“Maybe,” he mutters, grinning despite himself. “Or I’ll make him sit through my entire TED Talk catalog.”

“That’s cruel and unusual punishment,” you say, laughing. “But it might work.”

Tony chuckles, pulling you closer as the chaos of the afternoon swirls around you. For all his bluster, you know he wouldn’t trade these moments—or this family—for anything in the world.

I'm such a sucker for family men if you haven't already noticed