#iron dad fanfic

[ramen8008]

Peter: Is the pink panther a lion?

Tony: Say that again but slower.

Peter: I don’t get it.

Tony: He’s a PANTHER.

Peter: Is that a type of lion?

Tony: No, it’s a fucking panther.

Peter: *googles panther* They aren’t pink?

Tony: AND LIONS ARE?!

[rosedavid]

New irondad fic alert!!! Featuring the beloved field trip trope

Intern-Ish | T | 14k words | Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Peter actually has an internship at Stark Industries. He also uses it as a cover for Spider-Man related activities, because it's much easier to explain burns on his hands if he chalks it up to an incident at his internship. Because of this, his classmates believe he spends his days dealing with chemical explosions and working on highly classified tech.

The truth? He's basically a glorified coffee runner. But hey, it's no biggie. It's not like anyone will ever find out.

And then Mr. Harrington announces their field trip.

[kitcat992]

(PREVIEW) Identity Within︱Chapter 7 - Something Tried and True

If Peter concentrated any harder on rebuilding his web cartridges, he was sure that he’d give himself a juvenile stroke — not that Tony would’ve noticed, too busy across the workshop with welding goggles covering his eyes and sparks of molten metal igniting the room with bright flashes of heat.

The two were so caught up in their individual tasks that for once, the music playing overhead could barely be heard. Tony’s protective gear blocked out the sounds on his end, with earmuffs snugly fit over his head — whereas Peter’s intense focus kept his attention strictly on the machine in front of him; his hands carefully removing a freshly molded web cartridge that he not-so-carefully tossed into the tray on the opposite side of the table.

He was so focused on creating the next cartridge that he almost failed to pay any mind as DUM-E came wheeling by, carefully picking up the tray with an advance grip of his pincher claw and taking it across the workshop.

Peter was just about to push down on the hydraulic press mold — far more advanced than the dinky old model he had back home, and for good reason — when he saw the robot come to a stop near Tony’s work station.

“Wait, wait, wait — no, no, no, no! Not over there, DUM-E — not over there!” Peter rushed out in a panic, his one hand waving frantically in DUM-E’s direction. “If that heat gets too close to the cartridges before they mold, they'll explode!”

Despite the commotion that suddenly erupted, Tony never looked up from his own project. The intense sparks of metal continued to reflect against his goggles as DUM-E slowly retreated away from the dangerous heat, taking the tray with him until he found a safe spot to discard it.

It clanked and clattered as he dropped it down onto a cluttered bench.

“Yeah, yeah — right over there, that’s perfect, that’s great.” Peter’s bulky, heavy-duty work gloves kept his thumbs-up from fully forming, but he tried nonetheless. “Thanks, DUM-E, you’re the best.”

Tony never looked up from his welding as he said, “Stop complimenting him, he’ll think he’s doing a good job.”

Peter spun around on his stool until he faced Tony — nearly spinning all the way around had he not scraped his sneakers against the floor to prevent a complete three-sixty turn.

“He is doing a good job!” Peter defended, his smile reaching ear-to-ear while his arm extended straight out like a stick. “He’s only caused like, one fire so far.”

The sizzling heat of Tony’s welding torch came to an abrupt stop, with the sparks that flew off the scorching metal eventually dissipating in the air like embers.

“Him?” Tony asked, the hand not holding his welding torch lifting the safety goggles over his head — exposing his eyes in full. ��Or you?”

Peter wished he could blame the heat of Tony’s welding for the embarrassed blush that dotted his cheeks. Unfortunately, it was hard to say whether the look on Mr. Stark’s face, one-hundred percent ‘not buying it’, was the cause of his humiliation — or the fire extinguisher that laid used and now trashed across the workshop, with bits of foam still dripping down the sides.

In his defense, he wasn’t expecting an entire tray of his web cartridges to explode from a few nearby flames of Mr. Stark’s welding torch. And in double his defense, he wasn’t expecting DUM-E to have a full blown panic attack when struggling to find the fire extinguisher that Peter misplaced the last time they were in the workshop together.

From the look on Tony’s face, Peter figured neither defense was going to win his case.

“I just gotta get a stronger casing on these things,” Peter mumbled, more to himself than anyone else. The bulky safety glove that covered his hand massaged half-heartedly at the nape of his neck. “The aluminum shelling of the cartridge is way better than the original design, but the melting point of six hundred degrees is still too low.”

DUM-E’s whine of discontent towards the situation almost sounded like he agreed with Peter — who felt lowkey bad for startling the robot with a very unexpected fire that, to Peter’s surprise, seemed to barely phase Mr. Stark.

“What are you trying to do,” Tony started to ask, yanking off his safety goggles and earmuffs with one quick motion and tossing them onto the table with ease. “Jump into fires?”

Peter gave a dramatic shrug, one that brought both his shoulders all the way up to his ears.

“Maybe,” he murmured, insecurely turning back to the machine in front of him. His fingers fiddled on the handle of the press mold without any real intention of continuing his work. “Wouldn’t be the first time I wound up in a burning building.”

The sigh that escaped his chest was unintentional, and halted mid-exhale. Peter clamped his mouth shut and clenched his jaw with frustration, shaking away the lingering thoughts of self-doubt that had so rudely managed to creep into his head lately.

Seriously — who would’ve thought the pressures of being brought back from the dead would top the stresses of maintaining his GPA in high-school. He sure didn’t.

Though music still played overhead and throughout the workshop, and was far louder now that Tony’s welding had taken a pause, Peter had a gut feeling that sigh still managed to be heard — even with his best attempts to stifle it.

A dead giveaway was the lingering stare that burned a hole in his back. It felt hotter than if Tony’s eyes were actual welding torches blowing fire right against his t-shirt, with the large print text of ‘Think like a proton and stay positive’ catching the overhead ceiling lights.

Right along with ‘that’ look Peter was all too familiar with.

“Just…gotta make sure I’m prepared. For the next time,” Peter muttered, not daring to give ‘that’ look any acknowledgment as he ripped off both his gloves with the desperate need to fidget his hands. The heat that spread across his cheeks — this time for a reason other than one impromptu use of a fire extinguisher — kept him from turning to face that stare head-on.

That was, until, Mr. Stark finally spoke up.

“You’re distracted.”

Peter spun in his stool so rapidly, he didn’t stop until the entire three-sixty ride gradually circled him back to Tony’s direction

“Of course I’m distracted!” Peter practically shouted, tossing both his arms wildly in the air. “There’s a spaceship outside!”

Tony gave a sharp, concise nod before turning right back to his work. “And there it is.”

Peter either elected not to hear his exasperation, or was way too excited to pay it any attention.

“You gotta let me meet them, Mr. Stark — c’mon!” Peter all but exclaimed, to the point where his voice cracked in pitch and he couldn’t even be bothered to care.

Tony didn’t even look at Peter as he wagged the welding torch his way.

“That homework finished yet?” he asked, deadpanned and serious — so deadpanned and serious that at first, Peter swore on his young life the man was joking.

It took a solid five seconds to realize he wasn’t.

“What!?” Peter, once again, was too worked up too notice the crack in his voice. His arms flew down from the ceiling until a rigid hand pointed right at Tony. “You said if I spent two hours working on my paper then you would compromise and let me spend two hours working on my cartridges—”

Tony nodded. “Yes, I know, I never said that I didn’t say that—”

“You just said that!” Peter hastily interrupted.

Tony made a face, one that words failed to describe. “I just said that I never said that, I didn’t say—”

Peter kept his hand pointed at Tony. “You totally said that, Mr. Stark—!”

It was Tony’s turn to spin around on his stool, the look that followed so hot it put his welding torch to shame.

Peter elected to keep his mouth shut after that.

Reluctantly.

And with much struggle.

[wynnd-citrus]

Tony survives! Anything But “Mr Stark” Pt. 2 :3

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #14

It all started with a ghost. A very loud, very neon, very annoying ghost that thought it was a great idea to haunt Stark Tower. Danny Fenton—part-time student, full-time accidental hero, and perpetually exhausted teen—was just trying to track the damn thing through the Manhattan skyline when his portal malfunctioned (again), exploded in his face (again), and slingshotted him across the sky, straight through a window that turned out to be reinforced vibranium glass.

It should’ve stopped him. It didn’t.

Cue the alarms. Cue the dozens of defense drones locking onto his energy signature. Cue a 19-year-old Danny dangling upside down in the penthouse, surrounded by billion-dollar murder bots, trying to explain to a very confused AI that he was not, in fact, an alien invader.

But before FRIDAY could blast him into oblivion, a small voice piped up from behind a couch. “Are you a fairy?”

Danny blinked. Dangling upside down. Singed suit. Ectoplasm dripping from his hair. “Uh. Sure.”

The voice belonged to a tiny, curly-haired gremlin wearing a tutu, light-up sneakers, and what looked like Tony Stark’s old Iron Man helmet—three sizes too big and twice as chaotic. This was Morgan Stark. Age: five. Chaos level: eldritch god. She approached him like a cat approaches a new toy: equal parts curiosity and threat assessment.

“Can you do sparkles?” she asked.

Danny shot a tiny beam of ecto-energy at the ceiling light, which exploded into fireworks.

Morgan gasped. “OH MY GOD, YOU ARE A FAIRY.”

And that was how Danny Fenton became Morgan Stark’s official babysitter.

It wasn’t like he volunteered. Or got paid. Or even agreed. Tony Stark had been out of the country—something about a diplomatic mess in Wakanda and a golf game with T’Challa. Pepper had begged Steve Rogers to watch Morgan, but Steve’s idea of babysitting was forcing a child to recite the Constitution. So Pepper, desperate and very, very sleep-deprived, walked into her penthouse to find a teenage boy hovering in midair while her daughter screamed “FAIRY GODBRO” at him and decided, “Yeah. Sure. This’ll do.”

“Can you keep her alive?” Pepper asked, not even blinking at the glowing green eyes.

Danny shrugged. “Uh. I guess?”

“You get dental.”

Danny had no idea what that meant but was too scared to argue.

By Day Three, he was in hell. Not the Ghost Zone. Not some apocalyptic alternate timeline. Actual hell. Or what felt like it. Morgan had no concept of mortality. She once duct-taped kitchen knives to her arms and yelled “I’M WOLVERINE NOW.” Another time, she tried to feed their Roomba peanut butter and sobbed when it wouldn’t eat.

Danny tried to keep up. He really did.

Unfortunately, he was also being hunted by an interdimensional ghost warlord named Balthazar the Undying who decided Stark Tower was a great place to stage his declaration of conquest. So in between coloring pages and singing “Let It Go” for the 57th time (because Morgan said if he didn’t, she’d tell everyone he “pees ectoplasm”), Danny was banishing ancient horrors to the Shadow Realm.

“Why does the air taste like sadness?” Morgan asked one morning, sipping chocolate milk while a spectral hand clawed its way out of the floor behind her.

Danny shot it with a laser without looking. “That’s just the trauma, kid.”

She nodded like that made sense.

By Day Five, things got weirder.

Bruce Banner came over to “assess the babysitter.” What he found was a 19-year-old ghost hybrid making chicken nuggets with one hand while performing an exorcism on a sentient blender with the other. Bruce blinked. “You’re multitasking.”

Danny, dead-eyed and covered in slime: “You’re not my real dad.”

Bruce left after Morgan bit him.

Then Peter Parker dropped by. He took one look at Danny—haggard, twitching, wearing a tiara—and whispered, “Oh my god, he is a hot mess.”

“Shut up,” Danny snapped, using his foot to hold down a haunted Roomba. “Help me tie up the possessed dolls.”

Peter did not help. He just filmed everything for TikTok. The video went viral under the title “Me when I leave a random ghost fairy babysitter with Tony Stark’s child and come back to find him summoning the underworld during snack time.”

Nick Fury saw the video and sent a S.W.O.R.D. strike team to investigate.

Morgan beat them with a plastic lightsaber.

On Day Seven, Danny woke up to find Morgan riding a flying toaster around the living room like it was a dragon.

“WHERE DID YOU GET THAT?”

“I summoned it,” she said proudly.

“HOW.”

“I made a deal with your ghost friends.”

Danny’s left eye twitched so hard he saw the Ghost Zone.

Pepper walked in on him mid-breakdown. “You’ve been great with her,” she said, sipping her coffee. “We haven’t seen her this happy since… well, ever.”

Danny, clinging to the ceiling like a feral raccoon, wheezed, “I think she opened a portal to the Necroplane. There’s a demon named Craig living in the fridge.”

Pepper patted his arm. “All babysitters say that.”

Craig opened the fridge and waved. “Sup.”

By Week Two, Danny had stopped pretending to be normal. He phased through walls, levitated toys, vaporized anything that smelled like danger, and occasionally screamed “I’M TOO YOUNG TO BE HAVING A MID-LIFE CRISIS” into the void.

Tony finally came home. He blinked at the scene: Danny napping upside down like a bat while Morgan built a nuclear reactor out of old toaster parts and a Roomba named Kevin.

“Who the hell is that?” Tony asked.

Morgan didn’t even look up. “My fairy godbrother. He banished an evil frog ghost and helped me build an orbital laser.”

Tony stared. “Huh. Alright.”

And just like that, Danny Fenton became part of the Avengers.

He didn’t sign anything. He didn’t train. He didn’t even get a uniform. But every time something exploded or a portal opened or some ancient deity said “BEHOLD MY TRUE FORM,” Danny just floated into the air, cracked his back like an old man, and said, “Not in front of the child, you drama bitch.”

Morgan, from her juice box throne: “YEET HIM INTO THE VOID, DANNY.”

And he did.

It only got worse when the other Avengers got involved.

Natasha tried to teach Morgan how to do spy stuff. Morgan used the techniques to sneak into Tony’s wine cellar and replace the labels with glitter glue and threats.

Thor visited once. Morgan asked if she could ride his hammer. He said no. She cried. The hammer floated toward her on its own. Danny had to wrestle it away.

Clint brought over a bow and arrow set. Morgan hit Peter in the ass with a suction cup dart. Danny laughed so hard he choked on ectoplasm.

Wanda stared at Danny for a full ten minutes before whispering, “You’re not from this plane.”

Danny, deadpan: “Neither is your eyeliner.”

They became friends.

One night, Danny woke up to find Morgan drawing summoning circles on the walls in glitter glue.

“Whatcha doing, champ?”

“Trying to summon a unicorn for Auntie Yelena.”

Danny blinked. “Go back to bed.”

She glared. “You don’t support women in STEM.”

By Month One, SHIELD had officially labeled Danny as a “Class 7 Unexplainable Being with Babysitting Potential.” He had a badge. He had clearance. He had no idea what was happening anymore.

All he knew was that if Morgan Stark said “Danny, I wanna adopt a ghost puppy,” then by God, he was going to march into the Ghost Zone and wrestle a spectral hellhound into a leash.

And he did.

Its name is Toast.

Danny Fenton—ghost boy, half-dead teenager, babysitter of the year—accidentally became the most powerful figure in the universe. Not because of his powers. Not because of his knowledge. Not even because of his tragic backstory.

But because Morgan Stark liked him. And if you hurt Morgan Stark, you would be introduced to Craig, the fridge demon, and Kevin, the haunted Roomba, and Toast, the ghost puppy, and then, finally, the very angry, very tired, very over-it Danny Phantom who could—and would—yeet you into another dimension for interrupting nap time.

The Avengers knew better than to interfere.

Even Thanos came back to life once, took one look at Danny and Morgan, and said, “No thanks.”

He snapped himself back out of existence.

Danny didn’t even flinch.

Morgan dabbed.

And somewhere, in the vast multiverse of chaos and consequence, Tony Stark looked at his daughter, his haunted apartment, his glowing ghost babysitter eating fruit snacks while levitating a possessed microwave, and muttered to himself—

“Yeah. That tracks.”

[marionluth]

Harley: Wanna know what would be really cool?

Peter: Honestly, I don't think I wanna know, no.

Harley: Being shot

Tony: No!

Peter: Been there, done that. Not particularly cool either…

Tony: You’ve been what?

Peter:

Harley: No, no! BEING SHOT. As in being the one… shot… at someone! As in human projectile with the speed of a bullet!

Peter:

Tony:

Harley: I mean… think of the damage here…

Peter: *sitting up* This holds promise.

Tony: No!

Peter: We'd have to take into account a ton of stuff, mass and volume of human projectile…

Harley:...energy source and force distribution…

Peter:... Acceleration curve, g force tolerance…

Harley:... trajectory and stability…

Peter: I'm bringing the whiteboard!

Tony: NO!

[gender-thief2]

homeless peter parker whump fics are so unintentionally funny sometimes because they’ll literally be like:

peter (malnourished, dehydrated, wearing his homemade dirty spiderman suit, sporting two stab wounds and three broken ribs, voice cracking): nice to meet you mr stark

tony: yeah this is probably an adult

[katdavina8]

I think we need more fics where Peter Parker is genuinely a vigilante, like he's still the teen from the MCU who occasionally helps out the Avengers, but we really see him immersed in the vigilante sphere; dealing with Fisk, being friends with Daredevil, the Defenders, Deadpool, etc, taking on really gritty things that any other vigilante is shown dealing with. These fics always hold a special place in my heart. Especially when we see how this life mixes and clashes with his Avengers' life.

[erinwantstowrite]

some doodles for y'all before i post chapter 16 (I'm nearly done with it i think, just a couple more scenes left)

i realized i hadn't drawn peter before LoF was written and felt the need to change that. he's just a little guy!! maybe one day i'll get around to writing a prologue for LoF...

[hurtspideyparker]

Emotional Support Intern Peter Parker

Tony and Peter finally arrive in the large room, polished leather Oxfords and stained-lace Converse making their way through the crowd of professionals. Tony has a hand on Peter's back guiding him, because no matter how many meetings, conferences, and office buildings they traverse together, Peter always manages to get lost the second Tony lets go. 

Thankfully Pepper is easy to spot, shaking hands with some blah blah from wee woo Industries. Her hair is the only splash of colour in the constant white black grey of everyone's pencil skirts and collared shirts. 

"Hi Ms. Potts!" Peter greets as soon as the woman turns and spots them. 

"Hi Peter—Tony. I told you to stop bringing the kid to these things. No offense Peter."

"None taken! You look lovely, did you get your hair done?"

Pepper's hair cascades over her shoulder in perfect curls, splayed out over her white button-up. 

"Yes actually, a trim and some highlights. I think she went shorter than I asked though, because I always get half an inch, and this does not look like half an inch."

Peter steps a bit closer and squints at the piece of copper hair she's holding out. 

"I think it's just because she curled it. You usually get it blow dried after."

"Hm. I think you're right actually."

Tony rolls his eyes, "I'm so glad you guys are having such a great slumber party. C'mon kid I have to avoid that senator and he's starting to glance this way." He tries to head over to some tall plants that happen to be great blind spots. 

"Ah ah ah Tony! We are talking about this. I told you to stop dragging Peter to all of your work responsibilities. I'm sure he's bored to death with these meetings and work events."

"Pep, he's an intern, he's supposed to be bored and taken advantage of. Besides, if you take away my emotional support intern then I simply wouldn't show up! So."

"You aren't even paying him for his time!" Pepper says at the same time Peter mumbles "emotional support intern?"

"Um excuse me, that 3 million dollar suit he stuffs between his math homework and Go-Gurt begs to differ. And anyways, I pay him with experience. I brought him to that seminar in LA on Saturday, and he's following me to Tokyo for that week long conference in July. I highly doubt he's complaining," he squeezes the boy's shoulders, Peter looking up and beaming at him and Pepper. 

"I'm really fine with it Ms. Potts. Besides, the more of these things I go to the more lab time I get!" Peter pipes in.

Pepper glares at Tony. "Really, bribery?" 

"Okay well, if us grown adults don't want to be here how else am I supposed to get a 15 year old to talk about environmental reform to people who don't even believe in climate change." 

Pepper and Tony hold each other's stares.

"You mean he spoke to Mr. Ellis about the generator you designed for his carbon plant, and it didn't end with him calling us a pansy corporation and you calling him a decrepit geezer who's business is the only thing that's going to die quicker than he is?"

There's barely stiffled hope supressed under Pepper's professionalism. 

Tony smirks. "Yep, I think Mr. Ellis even smiled. The kid's got charm! Who knew."

Pepper glances at Peter in consideration. 

"Peter have you ever considered pursuing anything further in business? Engineering is great, but if you really want to be successful it's incredibly important to build interpersonal skills, leadership, and even current market and finance knowledge. I mean you might want to sell your designs one day, or start a company." 

"Oh, I haven't really-"

"You could shadow me! I mean interning with a CEO is a once in a lifetime opportunity, it would give you a glowing resume, and I know a lot more about this stuff than Tony. He didn't even perform his executive duties when he actually was the CEO."

Pepper has that gleam in her eyes, the one she gets when men call her sweetheart, or when Tony isn't even dressed for their reservation that started ten minutes ago. 

It means she's already had the argument in her head. 

Peter is still stuttering, flustered with this side of Pepper. Her business face isn't usually directed at him, and it's a far cry from the woman who sends him home with leftovers from dinner. 

"Wait wait wait, are you trying to steal my intern?" Tony asks incredulously. 

"If anyone even needs an intern Tony it would be me. I have to babysit you and the company, meanwhile you just need him to hand you wrenches. Competent help is hard to find these days and you're wasting his talents." 

"Um, excuse me, he's the only thing keeping me together. You already have your fancy day planner and Excel spreadsheets, I need him to get me out of the house. He's the only thing keeping me a responsible adult, if you take away my emotional support intern then I will not attend a single meeting for the rest of the quarter." 

"You are such a man child!"

"La la la la can't hear youuu," Tony says with his fingers in his ears.

"Um, guys, I think people are staring."

Peter tugs on the corner of Tony's sleeve to get him to unplug his ears, glancing nervously at the groups of people sending them judgemental stares. The three of them give a wave and pleasant smile, most of the crowd continuing to move along on the grey carpet at the sight of their unsettling synchronicity and false turn of the lips. 

Pepper speaks through her teeth, a grin still presented at passers-by. "Fine, you can keep him, but only because he's doing half my job for me. The only person you can emotionally regulate around and it's a teenager. I'm glad you finally found someone who can keep you entertained." 

"Love you too honey," Tony says while putting a hand on the small of her back and kissing her cheek. He sighs, looking around the room at all the government officials who think these tech companies are spying on them. 

Apparently a surveillance state is only cool when they do it to manipulate their incarceration numbers, rig elections and lobby votes, and not for data mining and targeted ads. 

"I say we hit the cheese and crackers, take an awkward amount of sips from those tiny water bottles, and then speak to some old ladies till we have to do our presentation."

"Sounds great Mr. Stark. Will you make sure they don't grab my face again? I smelled like old lady perfume at school and Flash started making fun of me for stealing people's grandmas."

Tony looks into Peter's eyes questioningly and finds nothing but sincerity and resignation in them. 

"Well. Not my fault your cheeks are so gosh darn cute. But I'll do my best," he wraps an arm around the shorter and starts heading through the room again. 

The weight is comforting. Peter used to get anxious at these events, but Tony never leaves his side and is always looking at him like he's the Michaelangelo in the center of every room. He became accustomed to being Mr. Stark's favourite part of the event. While that may not seem difficult, especially considering the droning lectures and snooty company, it always feels special making jokes about people's ridiculous work jargon, and comparing the staleness of crackers at conferences. 

"Emotional support intern huh?" he says smugly. 

Tony glances at him, but instead of scoffing or denying anything, he just speaks with honesty. "You and Pepper are the best, most important things to this company. And to me. I'm really glad you're here kid."

Peter doesn't know what to say. The words stick in his throat while Tony hands him a water bottle with the lid already cracked. 

Peter has super strength; It's completely unnecessary to open his bottle for him. He doesn't point this out. Tony will do it at the next meeting, just like he did at the last one, and Peter will never mention it.

[weirdkidshere]

Peter Parker is so adoptable. “Oh you mean adaptable-“ NO.

First up we got the classic irondad/spiderson dynamic. ICONIC. Can have you punching wholes in the walls with the amount of FEELS and FLUFF and, of course, ANGST. 10/10, great way to get started. BUT. We’ve barely even scratched the surface.

My other personal favourite: Matt Murdock AKA Daredevil adopts Peter. Bonus points if it’s after No Way Home, the emotional hurt/comfort potential is IMMENSE. I just. I love that shit. I eat it up every time. GIMME!!!

Next up, one I did not think would work, but it ABSOLUTELY DOES: Bucky Barnes adopts Peter. Currently reading a fic called Anatomy In Reverse by pansley on ao3, and lemme tell ya im OBSESSED. I did not think there was potential there, BUT BOY WAS I WRONG. (Lovely fic, would 100% recommend it btw)

Oh and did you think Peters adoptableness only reached until the confinements of the MCU? THINK AGAIN. Cuz the Batfam is NOT ABOVE ADDING SPIDERS TO THE BATS AND BIRDS!! You think Batman has an adoption problem, you’ve clearly never seen the amount of fics of Nightwing adopting Peter. (I guess it runs in the family. Also, Dark Matter anyone??)

And these are just the ones I’ve come across! It’s like if you feel like writing parent-child dynamics in the mcu - or even outside of it, jesus! - you just get yourself a ready-to-adopt Peter Parker, maybe kill of some more of his parental figures i guess, and boom! You got yourself an adoptee!

[ramen8008]

Peter, peeling a banana: May I take your jacket, sir? Hahahaha.

Tony: Do you think other people can’t hear you?

[severalburntpotatos]

reading fics is all fun and games until you realize you just read the equivalent of three books

[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.)

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

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.

<--------------------------------------------------------->

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.

[wynnd-citrus]

Tony survives! Anything But “Mr Stark” Pt. 1

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #20

Jazz Fenton was not supposed to become an urban legend, a media conspiracy theory, or a widely feared intern with multiple Tumblr fan accounts, but alas, here they were.

At 19 years old, Jasmine “Jazz” Fenton had moved to New York on a full scholarship to Columbia University, double majoring in psychology and business, with a minor in engineering just for fun. She wore blazers older than most Columbia freshmen, carried a briefcase instead of a backpack, and maintained a 4.0 GPA while ghost-proofing her dorm room using proprietary tech she’d built in high school. On the third day of orientation, she calmly tased a literal demon that crawled out of an upper-floor window of Butler Library and continued sipping her iced matcha like it was a Tuesday. Which, unfortunately, it was.

This act caught the attention of a lot of people, including—but not limited to—an NYPD exorcist division, a priest named Father Julio, two SHIELD interns on a coffee break, and Pepper Potts, who was in the city for a Stark Industries panel on sustainable weapons of mass deterrence.

“She tased a demon,” Pepper said slowly to her assistant.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“In broad daylight.”

“Correct.”

“And then she—what did she say again?”

The assistant glanced at their notes. “‘Don’t manifest on Ivy League property, it lowers our national rank.’”

Pepper stared into the distance. “Find her. And hire her.”

Within forty-eight hours, Jazz was sitting in a glass elevator ascending Stark Tower. She hadn’t applied for anything. She hadn’t submitted a résumé. But her phone pinged during a psych lecture with a Stark Industries-branded email that simply said, “Ms. Potts would like to speak to you,” followed by a GPS pin and a non-negotiable appointment time.

Tony, predictably, was not consulted.

“What do you MEAN she’s nineteen? What do you MEAN she’s your intern? Pepper, she built a plasma cannon in your office. In two hours. Using my old espresso machine.”

“It was broken,” Jazz added politely, scrolling through quantum schematics on her StarkPad. “And under OSHA, coffee-related injuries are still injuries. You’re welcome.”

Tony pointed a wrench at her like it was a gun. “You don’t scare me, you ginger menace.”

Jazz smiled faintly. “You should be scared. You tried to patent a neural override system with an open-ended quantum key. You’re lucky I fixed it before it broadcasted the location of every Stark tech asset on Earth.”

There was a pause.

Tony turned to Pepper. “She’s you. But worse. Why is she you but worse?”

“I don’t know,” Pepper murmured. “But I think I love her.”

The rumors started on week three.

At first, it was office gossip. Just little things. Intern was too tall. Too confident. Too quiet. You don’t trust the quiet ones. And then she reverse-engineered the Arc Reactor because she was bored on lunch break, and the quiet turned into fear.

“Is she—like—a clone or something?” asked one junior developer to another over ramen in the cafeteria.

“I heard she’s Tony’s secret daughter,” the other whispered. “Raised in a lab. Trained from birth. Like that kid in Kingsman but with algebra.”

One engineer swore they saw her casually deflect a pulse grenade using a file folder. Another caught her manually rebooting the Tower AI after it shorted out during a lightning storm—something that shouldn’t have been possible unless you had admin-level clearance, which Jazz absolutely did not have. In theory.

“Pepper,” Tony said slowly one morning, watching Jazz reprogram a malfunctioning security drone while also Skyping her Columbia psych professor, “do we have a bioengineered heir you forgot to tell me about?”

“No,” Pepper said, sipping coffee. “But if I die, she gets the company.”

Tony sputtered. “Excuse me?!”

Jazz didn’t look up. “I accept.”

The media got involved during Stark Industries’ spring gala.

Jazz, dressed in a midnight blue suit that cost more than her entire tuition, arrived at Pepper’s side like a storm. She was calm, composed, stunningly competent, and intercepted two would-be saboteurs in the first thirty minutes with nothing but a suspicious stare and a champagne flute.

“She’s Pepper’s daughter,” someone tweeted.

“She’s not old enough to be her daughter.”

“She’s her clone. Pepper 2.0. She even walks like her.”

“I would let her step on me.”

By the next morning, “#StarkHeir” was trending worldwide, and conspiracy theorists had posted side-by-side comparisons of Jazz and Pepper’s bone structures, speech patterns, and typing styles. Someone even made a Google doc of all their shared quirks. It had color-coded sections. There were charts.

Tony spent the entire week yelling.

“She’s NOT my kid! She’s not even related to Pepper!”

Pepper, annoyingly, did not help. “Technically, we don’t know she’s not.”

“Oh my god.”

Meanwhile, Jazz was unfazed.

“Should I post a clarification?” she asked.

“No,” said Pepper, texting casually. “Let them fear you.”

The Avengers had mixed feelings.

Steve was terrified of her. She reminded him too much of Natasha, if Natasha had spent her childhood in AP classes and the rest of her time inventing hover grenades. Sam and Rhodey liked her, mostly because she was polite and explained quantum mechanics in metaphors that involved pop tarts. Peter developed an immediate and debilitating crush, which she ignored with expert precision.

“Hi, Miss Fenton,” Peter said shyly one day, watching her reprogram a Stark drone mid-air while eating a bagel.

“Peter,” she said without looking up. “You have a calculus exam in twenty-two minutes and your spider-suit’s magnetic lock is uncalibrated.”

Peter turned pink. “Oh. Thanks. Wait—how did you—?”

She looked at him. “I am your god now.”

Peter nearly fainted.

Natasha liked her. Clint was afraid of her. Thor called her “Little Flame Witch” and offered to train her in Asgardian battle strategy, which she accepted, just to make Bruce nervous.

But it was Loki who said it first.

“She’s not of this world,” he muttered to Wanda during a conference meeting. “She carries too much silence for a mortal. Something follows her.”

He was right, of course.

Because sometimes, at night, the tower cameras would glitch. Alarms would blip off for three-point-two seconds. And if you reviewed the footage frame by frame, you’d catch a flicker of something—green light, spectral claws, shadows moving too fast.

Jazz never addressed it.

She just carried her ghost-hunting thermos in her tote bag and once drop-kicked a poltergeist out of the 35th floor without spilling her coffee. Pepper made her head of paranormal security the next day. Tony threw a chair.

“I HATE HER.”

“You’re jealous.”

“She made a hover-bomb out of printer ink and stale Red Vines. WHO DOES THAT.”

“She’s better than you, darling. Accept it.”

The Pentagon called.

Then SHIELD.

Then the President.

They all wanted meetings. Wanted the Stark Intern. Wanted the girl who built an anti-phasing grenade in her sleep and then used it to banish an interdimensional wraith that had haunted the UN for seventy years. She’d done it in kitten heels. While on speakerphone with Columbia discussing her thesis on behavioral disassociation and spectral trauma.

“Ms. Fenton,” said General Ross one day, sitting across from her in a secure Stark lab, “how old are you again?”

“Nineteen.”

He blinked. “And you… developed this ectoplasmic nullifier?”

“Yes.”

“From scratch?”

“I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re implying.”

Tony watched from the corner, snickering into a bag of popcorn.

“Careful, Ross,” he said. “She’s been known to vaporize military-grade egos.”

Jazz didn’t smile, but her eyes sparkled just a little.

The conspiracy peaked when a tabloid published an article titled “Pepper Potts’ Secret Daughter: Genius Intern or Bio-Engineered Successor?”

There were pie charts. Photos. A leaked voicemail from Tony yelling “SHE ISN’T MINE, YOU IMBECILES” that only made things worse.

One Tumblr post had over 800k notes and a list of reasons why Jazz was definitely a Potts-Stark hybrid, including, “built a laser harp,” “once told Elon Musk to ‘shut up before I make a better Tesla with a coffee maker and two forks,’” and “terrifying corporate aura.”

Jazz printed the post. Framed it. Hung it in her dorm.

Pepper just looked fond.

“I think you’ve officially surpassed me in public fear,” she said one afternoon as Jazz filed patents under twenty different shell companies.

Jazz shrugged. “You set the bar very high.”

“I’m proud of you.”

Tony sobbed in the background. “This is my nightmare.”

“Jazz,” said Pepper sweetly, “could you file a cease-and-desist against MIT for trying to recruit you illegally?”

“Already did. Also, I bought MIT using the company card.”

Tony screamed.

And through it all—ghost attacks, PR disasters, tech blackouts, alien entities, and one incident where Jazz weaponized her psych minor to dismantle a HYDRA agent’s entire worldview in a hallway—she remained completely, terrifyingly composed.

Because this was Jazz Fenton. The girl who survived Amity Park, ghost portals, mad science parents, and her half-dead little brother who punched death in the face on Tuesdays.

The Marvel universe had no idea what it had just unleashed.

But Pepper did.

She just smiled and handed Jazz her new badge: Chief Innovation Officer, Spectral Division.

“I think you’re ready for phase two.”

Jazz sipped her coffee. “Let’s haunt the world.”