#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?!

[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

[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!

[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.

[lost-on-an-ocean-of-books]

Calling all fanfiction Readers it's time to have your say.

Hi Fanfiction Readers

My name is Tamsin and I am a PhD student, fellow lurker and fanfiction reader. I am conducting a study into the role that fanfiction plays in the lives of those fans who read fanfiction as part of their everyday lives. Does your search history include the tags related to found family, irondad or batbad for example, then I am interested in talking to you. If you would like to take part in discussions around these tags with a fellow reader and lurkers of these tags within A03 please message me. 

Taking part in this research is a chance for you to share your own experience of fanfiction and what it means to you, while also highlighting that lurkers do still have a voice and an important part to play within fandom research. 

Below the cut is more information about this study and what it involves. Please read this if you would like more information before getting in touch. If you are unable to take part please can you reblog this post or share it to anyone you feel might wish to take part. 

Why have I been chosen?

I have deliberately chosen lurkers within fanfiction communities as the messages they take from and their reasons for reading fanfiction are under researched. Although you may not be a lurker in all fandoms you are involved in, the fact that you are a lurker within any fanfiction spaces make you the ideal candidate from this exploration into lurkers and their relationships with fanfiction, fanfictions online spaces and fandom communities. 

I would also like to emphasise that I require all participants to be over the age of 18 to take part in this study. If you are under 18 please let me know now. 

What does taking part mean?

By agreeing to take part in this study you are agreeing to record a diary of your fanfiction use and reasons for this usage within a discord chat. There is no limit for entries and I ask that the minimum response is once every two weeks. However, this project is aiming to work around your life and commitments and if you do miss a couple of weeks do not panic. Just start sending entries or replying to prompts again when you are able to. If I have not heard from you in a month I will send a message which will read:

Hi. I hope you are doing well. I am just sending a message to check in and to double check if you wish to continue taking part in the study. If you are happy to still take part please send any form of response to this message. 

It is important to note that this response can be as limited as simply sending an emoji. If I do not receive a response after two weeks I will stop attempting to contact you. However this is not seen as a full withdrawal from the study and you are able to return at any time. I will also still use the discussions we have already had as part of my thesis. If you would like to withdraw fully from the study please let me or my supervisors know, with the process of how to do this explained below. 

These entries can take the form of voice notes, written responses and memes or tiktoks. Every two weeks I shall send a prompt to the chat that hosts the diary entries, these are intended to get you thinking about certain topics and do not have to be answered directly or even at all if the questions make you uncomfortable or touch on something you are unwilling to share. At the end of every month I will arrange a touch base interview (over google meet) which will last about an hour. This will be a chance to discuss anything that you find easier to discuss face to face, to review some of your diary entries and for me to answer any question you may have. While I will aim to have these interviews a month apart I do understand that life may get in the way. I am more than happy to be flexible and move interviews around or push them back/bring them forward depending on your schedules. 

[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.

[severalburntpotatos]

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

[moritashie]

A crack fic idea where it turns out that Tony has at some point legally adopted or had been legally named DUM-E's parent. Because he's Tony freaking Stark, and if someone can marry a tree then he sure as hell can adopt his first robot.

[teddypines]

Nighttime Troubles

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

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.

[ramen8008]

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

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

[amethystarachnid]

Hey! If your taking requests, I love your work so much and I had an idea I would really love to see how you execute it.

So it would be with Tony Stark, and if its okay Male!Reader, but not romantic, the reader is a teen who is a product of some old fling Tony had and after being poorly taken care of by his mom (whatever that inclines you to write, abuse, bad boyfriend, alcoholism etc.) She dumps him off at stark tower with a note and what little belongings the reader has and his birth certificate to Tony for him to take care of. And the rest of what happens from there is up to you! Basically heavy on the found family troupe, and a little angst with some good fluff. The reader can be from 16-18 still in high school. He has Tony's sarcastic humor and smarts, but he nodes his intelligence because his mom never really helped him appreciate it, basically one of those kids that gets straight A's without seemingly trying and looking kind of stupid, the reader is quiet and a bit cold but that's because of how he was raised, and isn't one to share how he's feeling. If you can do this I'd be so thankful, if not its completely understandable, I hope I gave you enough creative liberty to make it fun, I know it'll be great if you do write it! Again I love your fics so much and I can't wait to read more of what you have!!💜☺

LEGACY

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

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

ᯓ★ Genre: platonic!, a lot of angst and some fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5.5k

ᯓ★ Summary: literally what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of abusive household and rader feeling like people keep abandoning him

ᯓ★ Thank you so much for your request and for liking my work! <3

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

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

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

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

Your whole life, you’ve never known stability. The cramped apartments, the ever-shifting walls painted in hues of desperation, are as familiar to you as your own skin. You’re seventeen now, but you still feel like you’re stuck in this never-ending carousel of uncertainty and survival. Your mom—who’s always been more into herself than anyone else—has a way of shoving her problems under the rug, sweeping you along with the mess until you’re barely holding it together.

Her boyfriend—if you could even call him that—is the latest problem. Travis is the kind of guy who doesn’t need to say much to make his point clear. It’s in the way he takes up space, fills every room with his presence, making himself the center of your lives as if it’s his right. He started coming around when you were fourteen, and it’s only gotten worse. You know he hates you, and he doesn’t even try to hide it. To him, you’re a nuisance, some extra baggage he never asked for, and he’s got no problem reminding you of that. Your sarcasm and quick wit, the things that make you, you, are just more reasons for him to snap, roll his eyes, or call you ungrateful.

Your mom’s always been…complicated. You’ve known that since you were little, watching her go from one relationship to another, always searching for some kind of validation she never seems to find. She calls herself a free spirit, but it’s like she’s just drifting, lost in a fog of her own making. She can be fun, sure, when things are good. There were even moments when you thought she really loved you. But as time went on, you learned to read the signs: the distant glances, the subtle irritations, the way she avoids looking at you for too long, as if you’re some kind of mirror she doesn’t want to face.

It’s your intelligence that bugs her the most, you think. You see through her, every lie, every excuse, every careless decision. And she knows it. It’s like looking into a warped mirror—she can see pieces of herself in you, but you’re everything she’s never been: sharp, observant, with a mind that doesn’t let things slide. And it grates on her.

The fights get worse as you grow older, each one escalating faster than the last. Your sarcasm is your armor, your way of dealing with the endless cycle of disappointment. But every quip, every clever retort, only makes her angrier. You can tell she hates that she can’t control you, can’t manipulate you the way she does with everyone else in her life. She calls you difficult, a burden, a mistake she should’ve never had. You don’t let it show, but each word leaves a scar, another reminder that you’re on your own.

Then one day, it’s too much. Travis and your mom are fighting—again. It’s loud, voices echoing in the small apartment, and you’re in your room, trying to block it out like usual. But this time, you hear your name. You’ve been in this situation enough to know that’s never a good sign. So, you stay quiet, waiting, listening.

“You know he’s not even mine, right?” Travis snaps, his voice dripping with frustration. “Why do I have to put up with this kid? He’s not my responsibility!”

“You think I don’t know that?” Your mom’s voice is strained, like she’s barely holding on herself. “I’ve tried—God, I’ve tried—but he’s just…he’s too much. I can’t handle it anymore.”

There’s a pause, and for a second, you think maybe she’ll say something else, something that makes it sound like she cares. But the words never come.

“Then get rid of him,” Travis says, so bluntly that it leaves a chill in the air. “You’ve got the kid’s birth certificate. Drop him off at his real dad’s. He’s rich, isn’t he? Let him deal with the brat.”

You don’t move. You barely breathe. But deep down, you already know this is it. There’s no fighting it this time, no clever comment to deflect what’s happening. She’s made her choice, and it’s not you.

The next morning, she’s silent as she hands you an envelope. There’s no apology, no excuse, just a look that tells you she’s already gone, checked out of whatever shred of motherhood she once claimed to have. You don’t even ask where you’re going; you know the answer as soon as you see the address on the piece of paper.

Stark Tower.

It feels like a final act of cruelty, really. The man she’s always refused to talk about, the one figure in your life who’s only ever been a name, and now he’s your last option. Tony Stark. Genius, billionaire, Avenger. And, apparently, your father.

You stand outside Stark Tower with a single bag of your things and that stupid piece of paper—the birth certificate that’s somehow supposed to mean you’re his problem now. You feel like you’re stuck in some cosmic joke, a punchline to a story you didn’t even know you were a part of. There’s no going back, though. That’s clear enough.

So, you take a deep breath, adjust your bag on your shoulder, and walk through the doors.

Tony doesn’t even get a chance to process it at first. One moment he’s sipping coffee in his lab, deep in the flow of something unnecessarily complex that’s keeping his mind busy, and the next, Pepper is calling him down to the lobby. She sounds irritated, stressed—like maybe it’s his fault, which Tony wouldn’t be surprised by, honestly. He heads down, muttering about "another hero here to tell me how to do my job."

Then he sees you.

You’re leaning against the glass wall, wearing an expression that’s somehow familiar yet entirely alien to him. It’s not hard to recognize the mix of defiance and exhaustion in your eyes; he’s spent years perfecting that look himself. But the shock doesn’t really hit until you hand him the birth certificate. Your name and his, right there in black and white, unavoidably real.

For once in his life, Tony Stark is speechless.

“Seventeen years,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “And now you’re here because…?”

You shrug, clearly unimpressed. “Mom didn’t want me anymore, and apparently, you’re my dad. So… here I am. Congratulations.”

You’re blunt, almost cruel in the way you say it, like you don’t expect anything from him and don’t care if you get it. But he can’t look away from you. For the first time in a long time, he’s out of his depth. He’s had seventeen years to know this was possible, maybe even inevitable, but standing in front of you, he realizes he’s never prepared himself for this. He’s never thought about what it would mean to actually be a father.

Yet here you are, standing in front of him with your mother’s words still hanging over you, and he can see the weight you carry in the way your shoulders are always tense, the way your eyes don’t quite meet his.

“Well, kid,” he says after a beat, plastering on his most confident smile, “looks like you’ve officially joined the Stark family. There’s no going back now.”

Over the next few days, Tony throws himself into fatherhood with all the enthusiasm of someone tackling a new, challenging invention. He’s reading parenting books, taking advice from anyone who’ll give it, and trying desperately to crack the code of how to be a “cool dad.” He lets you explore Stark Tower freely, offers you access to his entire workshop, and even builds you a custom tablet, “Stark-style,” he brags, with enough advanced tech to impress even the most skeptical teenager.

He talks to you about science, testing your knowledge and realizing with a mix of pride and horror that you’re nearly as sharp as he was at seventeen. He tries to make jokes, throwing out sarcastic one-liners he assumes will win you over. Sometimes, he even manages to get a smirk out of you. But that’s as far as it ever goes.

Every attempt he makes is met with your icy wall, a defense mechanism built after years of disappointment and neglect. You listen, nod occasionally, but never laugh or even show interest. The most he ever gets out of you is a dry, deadpan “cool,” which is enough to keep him going but never enough to satisfy him.

Tony tries not to take it personally, but it’s hard. You’re right there, his kid, yet you’re worlds away, keeping him at arm’s length as if he’s just another adult you can’t trust. He catches glimpses of the sarcasm, the intelligence, but it’s wrapped up in layers of resentment and guarded detachment. You’re always cool, always distant, and he knows why, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

One evening, he sits you down with a grin, tossing a shiny, compact device into your hands. It’s sleek, metallic—one of his newer designs.

“Mini reactor prototype. You’d be the first to use it.” He says it with pride, like he’s giving you something no one else in the world could get.

You look at it for a moment, then at him. “Cool,” you say again, but your voice is flat, unimpressed. You set it on the table between you without another glance.

Tony’s grin falters, and he lets out a frustrated laugh. “You’re a tough crowd, you know that?”

You just shrug, giving him that practiced blank stare he’s come to know well. He’s finally reaching his breaking point. “Y’know, I’m trying here,” he says, exasperated. “I’m trying to… I don’t know, connect. Be… whatever it is you need me to be. But you’re acting like I’m just another stranger.”

You pause, considering him for a moment, and something shifts in your expression—like maybe, for just a second, you see his effort. But then your face goes neutral again, back to that familiar shield.

“Maybe that’s because you are,” you reply, voice quiet, almost too soft for him to hear.

Tony feels the blow, but he hides it with a forced chuckle. “Fair enough,” he says, though there’s a sting in his voice. “I can’t change the past, but… I’m here now. I’m not gonna just… walk away.”

The words linger between you, both of you knowing the weight they carry. You’ve heard promises like this before. You’ve heard them from your mother, from people who were supposed to care, and each one of those promises had turned hollow, leaving you more alone than before. So, when Tony looks at you with genuine sincerity, with a hope that you’ll give him a chance, all you can do is nod, burying any flicker of vulnerability.

As the weeks go on, Tony keeps trying. He brings you into the lab with him, walks you through his latest projects, even lets you experiment with some of the tech yourself. He drags you to burger joints at midnight, tries to coax out stories about school, hobbies, anything. Sometimes you let your guard slip, offering a sarcastic remark, a comment that makes him laugh—but the moment always passes too quickly, and you’re back behind that wall before he can push any further.

He’s persistent, though, and there’s a part of you that almost wants to give in, that wants to believe him. But your trust is a muscle you haven’t used in so long, it feels impossible to start now. So, you keep him at bay, deflecting his kindness, giving him just enough to satisfy his efforts without letting him in.

Tony doesn’t quit, though. He keeps showing up, every day, every night, and for the first time in your life, you don’t feel like someone’s just waiting for the moment they can leave.

Every morning, Tony insists on driving you to school, and it’s nothing short of a spectacle. He shows up outside Stark Tower in one of his many luxury cars, honking loudly, practically begging for attention. It’s become a routine, one you can’t escape no matter how many times you roll your eyes or tell him he doesn’t have to do it. He’s always got some snarky excuse, saying things like, “It’s my job as a dad,” or “I just want to see the kid off,” as if anyone believes he actually cares about high school protocol.

And everyone notices. Whispers trail behind you as you walk the halls, classmates you’ve known for years suddenly gawking at you like you’re a different person. They don’t know you as you anymore; they know you as Tony Stark’s kid. It’s suffocating. You’ve spent your entire life trying to stay unnoticed, to blend into the background. Now, no matter where you go, everyone’s waiting for you to crack a joke like him, to show off some kind of Stark-level genius.

Only one person seems to still see you, really see you—your best friend, Sam. You’ve known him since middle school, back when everything was simpler, when no one knew or cared who your dad was. He’s the only one who doesn’t treat you any differently now, the only person you actually trust enough to talk to about any of this.

One afternoon, you’re sitting outside on the bleachers with Sam, trying to ignore the fact that Tony’s car is already parked by the curb, waiting for you. The other students eye it like some exotic animal they don’t quite understand, but you keep your head down, just hoping the day will end without any more awkward questions or judgmental stares.

Sam nudges you. “So, uh… you still giving the old man the cold shoulder, huh?”

You sigh, avoiding his gaze. “I’m not giving him the cold shoulder. I’m just… keeping my distance.”

He rolls his eyes. “Dude, I see you with him every morning. The man looks like he’s about to recite the Gettysburg Address just to get a smile out of you. And you’re over here acting like he doesn’t exist.”

You shift uncomfortably, crossing your arms. “He’s only doing it because he feels obligated, Sam. It’s Tony Stark. He doesn’t actually care about me.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “You really believe that? You think he’s the kind of guy who’d waste his time on someone he doesn’t care about?”

You don’t answer, but you can feel Sam’s eyes on you, cutting through all your defenses. He’s always been able to read you better than anyone, and right now, that’s the last thing you want.

“He’s trying, Y/N,” Sam continues, his voice softer. “Like, really trying. And I get it. I get that you’ve been burned, but… maybe give him a chance? Just talk to him. It’s not like he’s gonna run off if you tell him what’s going on.”

You look away, jaw clenched as you try to shake off the knot of emotion tightening in your chest. You don’t want to admit that Sam might be right. Letting someone in, giving someone a chance—that’s always been a dangerous game, one you’re not sure you can afford to play again.

That night, you’re lying awake in your room, staring at the ceiling, Sam’s words playing on a loop in your mind. The silence around you feels heavy, pressing down on you, and you can’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, you owe Tony more than you’ve been giving him. You’ve seen his effort, the way he tries to connect with you, even when you push him away. He’s there, every day, waiting for you, and no one has ever done that before.

Something shifts in you, a kind of tired resignation, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you get up and head downstairs to his workshop.

Tony’s hunched over a table, tinkering with some gadget, and he barely notices you at first. It’s only when you clear your throat that he looks up, surprise flickering across his face before he masks it with a smile.

“Hey, kid,” he says, setting down his tools. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You shrug, suddenly feeling the weight of what you’re about to say. “Yeah, I just… I wanted to talk to you about something.”

He raises an eyebrow, a mixture of curiosity and concern on his face. He gestures to a nearby chair. “Go ahead. I’m all ears.”

You sit, staring at your hands as you try to find the right words. For a long time, there’s only silence between you, the air thick with tension. Finally, you take a deep breath, forcing yourself to speak.

“I know I’ve been… difficult,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I know you’re trying. It’s just… it’s not easy for me.”

Tony watches you intently, not interrupting, his expression softer than you’ve ever seen it. You look down, focusing on your hands, the words spilling out before you can stop them.

“When I was a kid, my mom was all I had. I thought… I thought she cared about me, even if she didn’t always show it. But she changed, especially after she started seeing this guy. Travis. He wasn’t… he wasn’t a good person, Tony. He… he made sure I knew I wasn’t wanted.” Your voice breaks slightly, but you push through it, feeling the old wounds tear open. “He told me I was a burden, that I was just in the way. And my mom, she… she just let it happen. She barely even looked at me by the end.”

Tony’s face darkens, his jaw clenched as he listens, but he stays silent, letting you continue.

“I learned not to trust people,” you say, voice wavering. “Every time I thought someone would stick around, they didn’t. So I stopped… I stopped letting people in. I told myself it was easier that way.”

You look up at him, and for the first time, there’s no mask, no shield—just raw vulnerability, something you haven’t allowed yourself to feel in years.

“And then I showed up here,” you say, your voice barely a whisper now. “And you… you keep trying. You keep showing up, every day, like you actually care. And it’s… it’s confusing, okay? Because part of me wants to believe it, but the other part…” You trail off, wiping away a tear that slips down your cheek.

Tony doesn’t hesitate. He reaches over, placing a hand on your shoulder, grounding you, letting you know he’s there. “Y/N,” he says softly, his voice rough with emotion. “I can’t change what you went through. I can’t go back and fix it, as much as I wish I could. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You meet his gaze, and there’s something in his eyes that you’ve never seen before—a fierce, unwavering resolve that feels almost foreign. You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words sink in, feeling the tiniest flicker of hope spark to life.

“It’s not easy for me,” you murmur. “It’s… it’s hard for me to trust people. And I know I’m not the easiest person to be around. But… I want to try. I want to believe you. I just… I need you to be patient with me. I need you to not give up on me.”

Tony nods, his hand still resting on your shoulder, steady and reassuring. “Hey,” he says, his voice breaking a little. “I’m not giving up on you, kid. Not now, not ever. You’re my son, and I’m here for the long haul. However long it takes, okay?”

The words settle around you, a warmth you haven’t felt in years. You don’t have to say anything; he seems to understand, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he lets go. And in that moment, something in you softens, just a little, like maybe you can let him in.

For the first time, you allow yourself to believe him, to believe that maybe he really won’t walk away. And even though the walls around your heart don’t come down all at once, you feel them start to crack, piece by piece, letting a little light seep in.

After that night, things start to change. It’s slow, gradual, like thawing ice, but there’s a noticeable shift between you and Tony. You’re still guarded, still wary of letting him all the way in, but he doesn’t push. He just keeps showing up, every day, every night, just like he promised. And slowly, piece by piece, you let him in.

The first time you ask to work on something together, Tony practically beams. You’re sitting at the kitchen counter with your physics homework in front of you—normally a breeze, something you’d get done in a few minutes. But today, you’ve left a few problems untouched, hoping he’ll notice.

Sure enough, Tony glances over your shoulder and raises an eyebrow. “Need a hand with that?” he asks, and there’s a careful lightness to his voice, like he’s trying to keep things casual, so he doesn’t scare you off.

You shrug, trying to act indifferent. “Sure, if you’ve got time,” you say, even though both of you know you could solve this on your own without breaking a sweat. But Tony doesn’t call you out on it. He just grabs a chair, pulls it over, and sits down next to you, leaning in to look at your work.

For the next hour, the two of you go over formulas and theories, his explanations coming with a few sarcastic quips and exaggerated hand gestures. Every so often, he goes off on a tangent, telling you stories about his own time in high school or sharing a strange fact he thinks will help you remember a concept. You listen, half-smiling at his antics, and eventually even throw in a few of your own sarcastic comments. You can tell he’s trying not to make a big deal out of it, but there’s a spark in his eyes that tells you he’s thrilled to be here, helping you, no matter how small the reason.

As the days go by, you find yourself spending more and more time in Tony’s workshop. It becomes your safe space, the place where you don’t feel like you have to hide or put up walls. Tony lets you explore, handing you tools and explaining how they work, guiding you through his more complicated inventions. It’s like learning a new language, one he’s eager to teach you, and he’s a surprisingly patient teacher.

One afternoon, he’s working on a new suit upgrade, and you’re watching, silently impressed by how smoothly he moves, how every action is precise and practiced. You’re deep in thought when he glances over at you, smirking.

“Thinking of joining the family business?” he jokes, tossing you a wrench. “If you’re interested, I could always use an extra pair of hands.”

You catch the wrench, feeling a rare, genuine smile tug at the corners of your mouth. “Maybe I will,” you say, feeling a rush of warmth that’s unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

He shows you how to tighten a piece of armor plating, explaining each step with a casual ease that you find yourself getting lost in. There’s something oddly comforting about the way he talks, like he’s sharing a secret only the two of you understand. And as you work, side by side, you realize that you actually look forward to these moments, the quiet companionship that comes from working together on something you both enjoy.

One evening, you catch yourself staring at your chemistry textbook, pages open to a particularly dull section on thermodynamics. Normally, you’d power through it on your own, but tonight, you feel the familiar tug of loneliness creeping in, and before you know it, you’re on your feet, heading down to Tony’s lab.

When you reach the doorway, he looks up, surprised, then quickly wipes the expression off his face and pretends to be engrossed in his latest project. “What’s up?” he asks, as casually as he can manage.

You hold up the textbook, pretending to be annoyed. “This stuff is terrible. Thought maybe you could explain it better than my teacher does.”

Tony raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Well, I’m honored to know you think so highly of my teaching skills.” He gestures for you to sit down, and as you do, he starts flipping through the pages of your book. “Thermodynamics, huh? You sure you’re not just here for the riveting conversation?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But you both know the truth, and there’s an unspoken understanding between you as he dives into the material. He doesn’t just lecture; he makes it a story, breaking down each concept with analogies, acting out scenarios, and throwing in enough jokes to keep you both entertained. You throw in questions just to keep him talking, just so you don’t have to go back to your empty room just yet.

And somewhere along the way, you realize you’re not just learning about science. You’re learning about him—about his quirks, his sense of humor, the way he lights up when he’s talking about things he’s passionate about. He’s not just Tony Stark, billionaire genius, Iron Man. He’s… Tony, your dad, someone who, against all odds, actually seems to care about you.

Over time, you both fall into a rhythm. Tony starts waiting for you in the mornings, holding out a cup of coffee or hot chocolate, claiming he needs company on his drive to work. You never say it, but you look forward to those mornings, the way he fills the car with stories about his latest projects or about old college pranks he pulled that make you laugh in spite of yourself.

One day, you’re both hunched over a set of schematics in his lab, tossing ideas back and forth as you brainstorm a new design for a stabilizer that could potentially improve flight control in his suits. You’re getting so into it that you forget to be guarded, throwing out suggestions, bouncing thoughts off each other in rapid-fire succession.

At one point, Tony stops, leaning back in his chair to look at you with a smirk. “You know,” he says, a touch of pride in his voice, “you’re pretty damn good at this. Got that Stark brain for sure.”

You feel a warmth spread through you, and for the first time, you don’t brush it off. “Maybe,” you say, smiling despite yourself. “But I guess it helps when you have a good teacher.”

Tony chuckles, but there’s a glimmer of emotion in his eyes, something raw and unguarded. “Yeah, well… you’re not a bad student either.”

There’s a moment of silence as the two of you look at each other, an understanding passing between you that doesn’t need words. You know he’s trying, and somehow, that knowledge makes the walls around your heart crumble just a little bit more.

A few days later, you’re working on homework in the living room when Tony walks in, holding a set of blueprints he’s obviously excited about. But when he sees you bent over your books, he pauses, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“Hey, need some help?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You look up, raising an eyebrow back at him. “With calculus? Pretty sure I’ve got this covered.”

He shrugs, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know I was quite the calculus prodigy back in the day.”

“Oh, yeah?” You smirk, half-teasing. “Care to prove it?”

Tony grins, and before you know it, he’s pulled up a chair, leaning over your work with the same intensity he brings to his inventions. You pretend to need help with a few problems, and he’s more than happy to guide you through them, throwing in jokes and sarcastic comments the whole way. Every so often, he nudges your shoulder, grinning like he’s just scored a victory when he catches you smiling.

Eventually, he lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I think we’ve both learned a lot today,” he says, stretching dramatically.

“Yeah,” you reply, smirking. “Like the fact that you’re worse at calculus than I am.”

Tony gapes, clutching his chest in mock hurt. “Unbelievable. Betrayed by my own son. This is a new low.”

You chuckle, shaking your head, and for the first time, it feels easy. Comfortable. Like maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to keep fighting him off.

“Hey,” Tony says, his tone shifting to something softer. “Thanks for letting me in. I know it wasn’t easy.”

You meet his gaze, feeling that familiar vulnerability creeping in, but this time, you don’t shy away. “Thanks for not giving up,” you reply quietly. “I know I’m not the easiest person to deal with.”

Tony chuckles, reaching over to ruffle your hair. “Nah, you’re a piece of cake. Besides, I’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”

You smile, a real one this time, feeling a warmth settle in your chest. For the first time, you allow yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, things are going to be okay.

It’s supposed to be a routine mission. Just another intel-gathering run, in and out, with minimal risk. Tony had waved it off as no big deal before he left, throwing you a smirk and saying, “Just another day in the office.” But that was hours ago. And now, as you sit in the dim glow of the living room, watching the news report blaring on the screen, dread twists deep in your gut.

You watch the shaky footage of Iron Man fighting, and this time, it’s different. He’s outnumbered, missiles tearing through the air, beams of energy slicing through the smoke and chaos. The news anchor’s voice breaks as they report the intensity of the fight, how Iron Man was last seen plunging out of the sky after a heavy hit. For a terrifying moment, you catch a glimpse of him falling, his suit battered, smoking, before the feed cuts out entirely.

Your heart stops, and a painful tightness fills your chest. The hours that follow are a blur of pacing, every second dragging longer than the last. You’re used to him going out on missions, used to the danger that comes with being Tony Stark’s son. But this… this is different. This isn’t the usual playful bravado, the usual cocky promises that he’ll be home for dinner. This is life or death, and for the first time, you’re faced with the horrifying thought that he might not make it back.

After what feels like an eternity, the front door finally opens. You spin around, heart pounding, and there he is, looking worse for wear but alive. He’s moving a bit stiffly, his armor scratched and dented, his face smudged with dirt and a few new cuts. But he’s here.

Before he can say a word, you rush toward him, the flood of relief hitting you so hard that you barely register the fact that you’re moving, throwing yourself into his arms. Your grip is tight, like if you let go, he’ll disappear. You don’t even realize you’re trembling until you feel his arms close around you, holding you just as tightly.

“Hey, hey,” Tony says, his voice soft, touched with surprise but warm. “I’m okay, kid. I’m here.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears, and he’s looking at you with an expression so full of gentle understanding that it makes you feel like a kid again, vulnerable and desperate. Without thinking, the word slips out, raw and unguarded.

“Dad…” you whisper, voice breaking slightly, “don’t ever… don’t ever do that again. I thought… I thought I was going to lose you.”

Tony’s face softens, his own eyes welling up. He’s silent for a moment, as if he’s savoring the word, the weight of it finally hitting home. His hand comes up to rest on your shoulder, his grip firm but gentle, grounding you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that. But I’m here, okay? I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You nod, the tears slipping down your cheeks now, and Tony pulls you in again, holding you tightly, his hand running gently over your back. It’s the first time you’ve let yourself fully embrace him, the first time you’ve allowed yourself to lean into his strength, to accept the warmth he’s been trying so hard to offer. And as you stand there, held in his arms, a sense of peace settles over you, soft and comforting, melting the last of your walls away.

After a long moment, he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, a tear slipping down his own cheek as he smiles, eyes bright. “You called me ‘Dad,’” he says softly, his voice full of wonder, as if he’s just received the greatest gift in the world.

You give a small, watery smile, wiping at your eyes. “Yeah, well… don’t get used to it,” you mumble, but there’s no heat behind the words, only affection, only gratitude.

He chuckles, pulling you back into a hug, and you feel his hand rest on the back of your head, his grip firm and reassuring. “I’m already used to it,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’m not letting you go, kid. Not ever.”

In that moment, you realize that this is what home feels like—right here, safe in his arms, with nothing left to fear.

I'll never get tired of familyman!Tony I swear.

[wynnd-citrus]

My little au comic about how Tony gave Peter the spider repulsor (MARRS) in my last post since it couldn’t fit together w it

[plussizefantasia]

CozyTober Day 10: Unsanctioned Halloween Party

Tony Stark x wife!reader, with a healthy dose of Iron dad thrown in

WC: 1.1k

a/n: This one kind of got away from me and I left the end kinda open in case I want to come back someday but I like how it turned out. Reblog if you liked it and Day 11 should be out in a little bit (i'm working on it as we speak)!

You used to think that couples' costumes were cheesy and unoriginal. Then you started dating Tony, who could sell a hair dryer to a bald man and suddenly you were wearing couple’s costumes every year. You two had gotten to the point that you felt the need to one-up your own costumes every year because literally nobody else was on your level. This Halloween you had gone to the ‘Stark Spook Spectular’ together as Beetlejuice and Lydia, you in the poofy red dress and Tony in the classic black and white suit and crazy wig.

You had partied the night away with your friends, danced, drank, and did some truly epic karaoke. When the clock struck 1:00 am you bid your goodbyes and had a car drive the two of you to your brownstone home a couple blocks away. 

“Wonder what Pete’s up to?” Tony spoke into your hair as the two of you leaned into each other in the backseat.

“He said he was gonna go to Ned’s and watch some scary movies while eating his body weight in candy.” You think back to the conversation you had had with your non-quite son earlier that day when he had stopped by after school.

“Good. Normal kid stuff.” Tony replied pulling out his phone. He had a habit of doing that when the two of you were on the way home. He would check in on the security system from his phone, you supposed it was so he could be ready for any situation he might walk into.

You weren’t expecting his shout of “What the shit.” and the way he suddenly sat up and more-or-less launched you up into the air. 

His small mutter of apology was quickly overshadowed by Tony shoving his phone in your face, the live feed of your living room displayed on the screen.

There, in plain view of the camera was Peter Parker, frantically trying to keep the nearly 200 hundred teenagers that filled your house from destroying the place. It would be adorable the way he threw coasters down and pushed shoes off your coffee table if you weren’t so pissed that the kid had thrown a party in your absence.

It wasn’t long before you turned the corner onto your street and could see and hear the damage for yourself. Lights strobed out of your windows and you could hear the music that was blaring even in the car with the windows rolled up and down the street. 

The car slowed to a stop in front of your house and you jumped out of the back, not even waiting until the wheels stopped rolling. Tony paid the driver and raced after you entering the front door only seconds after you did.

The music while appropriately themed for a Halloween was about 15 dB too loud and drowned out whatever your husband was trying to tell you.

You wove through the throngs of teens, glaring at any who dared to make eye contact with you and tried to make your way to the access panel in the kitchen. The only physical interface for FRIDAY is on the first floor. A few buttons later the music stopped. 

Shouts of confusion and anger were heard but none really registered in your mind. A frantic Spider-boy slid around the corner and into view, his arms laden with empty bottles and glasses.

“Hey, who touched-” He stopped. His face drained of color and he froze right where he was. 

You cocked your hip out and put on your strongest don’t you dare face. You ran your tongue across your front teeth and tsked at him which was enough to startle him from the “freeze” state he had succumbed to.

‘Mr and Mrs. Stark!” You didn’t even notice Tony was standing behind you, his own dad-face activated and in full force. “I-I can explain.”

“Don’t.” You put your hand up. “Even bother.”

You took the deepest breath in the history of deep breaths. “If you do not live here you have ten seconds to get out.” Nobody moved. 

“Ten. Nine.” Tony started counting behind you and every single person in the house jumped into motion. 

Teens spilled out into your front yard and you’re even sure you say some start to climb out of windows, too afraid that they would still be within the walls when Iron Man reached zero.

You waited for the house to empty, dead-eyeing kids as they walked past you, before turning back to a pale-looking Peter. Still standing in the same spot and with arms still full of trash. 

“Here is what is going to happen. We-” you motion at Tony and yourself “are going to go upstairs and change out of our costumes. You are going to clean however much you can during that time and then we are going to talk about this.” 

“Don’t leave, I know where you live.” Tony tossed his way before ushering you up the stairs and into your room. He helped you unzip your dress and you took his wig off for him.

“Is it bad that I’m kind of happy?” He spoke up.

“Only if it’s bad that I am too.” You responded. “Why are you happy?” You ask him.

“I just get so worried about the kid, I mean he’s so smart and he’s got the whole world on his shoulders. I just wish he’d loosed up sometimes.” Tony spoke with a rare vulnerability in his voice. “What about you?” he asked back, “Why are you happy.”

“Well, I know that we’re not his parents, I know that. But it’s kinda nice to have these normal moments ya know? It feels like tonight, we’re not owners of a multi-billion dollar cooperation and celebrities and spies and superheroes and all of the million things we are every other day. It just feels like we’re Mr. and Mrs. Stark, and our son has just thrown an illicit party while we were gone and it’s all just so very… normal.” 

During your rant, you slowly walked across the room so that you were standing behind Tony. You wrapped your arms around his middle and rested your forehead on his back. 

“I think-” you paused, “I think it’s okay that we’re happy, as long as we don’t tell Peter.”

Tony’s frame shook as he laughed and you could feel the slight tension he was carrying bleed out of him.

“We better get down there, kid’s probably freaking himself out way more than we ever could.”  Tony moved you in front of him and kissed you softly. “Ready to go be the most normal non-parent parents in the world?” 

“I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment.” You nodded and said deadpanned. Breaking moments after into a small fit of giggles that had your husband smiling at you with love in his eyes.

[erinwantstowrite]

I just heard the song Slipping Through My Fingers and immediately remembered the first chapter of LoF literally started crying

that whole song can summarize peter and tony's relationship tbh,,, quite literally every time tony thinks they've got it and he understands peter well, he blinks and peter's getting older and more stuff is happening (he wouldn't trade it for the world)