#look he figured out tony stark as a child and frankly he used up all his brain cells then and there

[tearsofsaudade]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40127340

Familiar. That was Will’s first thought as he fell. The cold, the silence, the dark. He knew where he was heading. Will had been seeing the Upside Down for years, but he hadn’t been back since that first week, when everything began.

No. He had gone through hell and back to avoid that place. I won’t. He knew that he had a stronger connection to it than anyone realized, but that didn’t matter. Not right now. The only thing that mattered was that he wasn’t going back. Not ever again. Don’t touch me.

Will wakes up in the future.

(A will-centric stranger things/marvel crossover, mostly featuring tony stark, peter parker, and harley keener, and, of course, will byers.)

ch 5 now posted

[egcdeath]

finders keepers

summary: did captain america just steal your cat?

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, strangers to lovers

author’s note: it’s been way too long since i wrote some pure, self indulgent fluff. this has been quite the refreshing experience for me but i think it’s back to our regularly scheduled program after this ;)

you can find my masterlist and taglist here

Miso had an air of arrogance that you admired. She took the world by its kitty balls, doing whatever she pleased whenever she pleased. Your cat left the apartment for sometimes days at a time, and frequently led male cats to your door. To you, your cat was more like a roommate than a pet, hogging up most of your bed, standing on the counter while you attempted to make food for yourself, and leaving most areas dirtier than she originally found it. 

Okay, maybe you were personifying your cat a little too much. But after moving out to D.C., you were unspeakably lonely. Most days, it felt like Miso was all you had, and that you were all Miso had (save for her army of cat boyfriends). 

This made things all the more concerning for you when you’d realized that you hadn’t seen your cat companion in five days. Five whole days without the comforting vibration of her purr, her ungodly hours of wakeup calls demanding to be played with, or pet. The cherry on top was that the cat food outside your door appeared to be completely untouched.

In your frenzied realization of your missing cat, your mind raced with a thousand different terrible situations your dear Miso could’ve found herself in. You frantically clicked through pictures of her on an online album and attempted to find a photo that would capture her white fur with large blobs of auburn, and her vibrant blue eyes to put on your ‘MISSING’ sign. The longer you clicked, the more that you began to worry that she had been caught and kidnapped by some terrible person with bad intentions. 

You finally threw together the poster, sending it to your phone so that you could print it off at the OfficeMax down the street. Luckily for you, you didn’t make it that far, as the moment you began to lock the closed door of your apartment, you saw the unmistakable figure of your cat. 

In the arms of your neighbor.

Now, you’d never met Steve. He was an Avenger, Captain America to be exact, and you were just… you. You’d convinced yourself that attempting to introduce yourself to him would ultimately end in failure, and an embarrassing one at that. Maybe he’d scoff and walk away, or call Tony Stark in front of you and tell him about the crazy woman he just encountered. 

But none of that mattered. Captain America was stealing your fucking cat. 

“Excuse me, sir?” You asked, stepping away from your door and approaching the Greek God of a man to the right of you. 

“Oh, hey! We must be n-“

“You have my cat,” you said bluntly.

“I’m sorry, what?” Steve seemed to do a double take

“My cat, y’know, the feline in your arms.”

“Well, maybe we just have similar looking cats. This is Arabella.”

You nearly scoffed at this, shaking your head. First, Captain America kidnapped your cat, and now he’s trying to convince you that it’s not your cat? Yeah, you’d know Miso from a mile away. And what kind of name is Arabella?

“Arabella is a great name for her,” Steve retorted, pulling the cat closer to his chest. Shit, did you say that out loud?

“Well I think it’s time for Miso to come back home,” the cat’s ears perked at this, and she glanced over at you. The sight of you made her wiggle and hop out of Steve’s tight embrace, landing on her feet and trotting over to you. The damn cat rubbed her face against your calf and purred as if she hadn’t been cheating on you for long enough to have gained a new name.

You squatted down and rubbed the back of your hand against her cheek, and shook your head at your pet, “you’re getting put on probation, young lady.” 

She didn’t seem to mind, pacing back and forth around you. You glanced up and saw Steve with a rather neutral expression on his face, as if he was masking whatever it was that he was feeling.

“I’m sorry about that, ma’am. Uh, maybe I’ll see you both around sometime,” disappointment coated his every word before he opened up his apartment door and promptly closed it behind him. 

You were surprised at how quickly he conceded, but you weren’t particularly mad about it either. You weren’t sure what you’d do if you never got your Miso back.

——

A whole day later, you’d been in your apartment typing up an email when a soft rapping at your door got your attention.

“Just a second!” you called, hopping up and hurrying to the door. When you opened it, Steve was standing in front of you, waiting with an oversized box in his hands.

“These are some of Ar- Miso?” he trailed off, waiting for you to confirm the name, and you gave him a tiny nod. “These are some of Miso’s toys. I just figured if she’s not staying at my place anymore…”

As if on cue, Miso strolled up to the door, and stretched her arms up on Steve’s leg, begging to be picked up. The man glanced at you for approval, and you gave a dismissive shrug before he set down the box, and held up the cat.

Steve frowned as he held her, and frankly, it pulled on your heart strings. You had to remind yourself that this man had been holding your cat captive for at least a week, and at most… who knows. 

She clearly had a connection with him, and that was what intrigued you most. Miso was a very picky cat, and it was only occasionally that she found someone that she genuinely liked, let alone wanted to be picked up by. If you continued to watch the display of affection in front of you, you might just cave.

“Uh, I left something in the oven for a little too long, so I should probably go get that. Thanks for stopping by.”

Steve nodded, understanding that it was time for him to exit.

——

You should’ve seen this coming the minute Miso was back in your home. You stepped out of the shower one morning to find your front door slightly ajar, and your animal nowhere to be found. 

You huffed, frustrated that just three days after you told yourself that your cat was completely indoor from that point on, she had escaped. She could literally be anywhere at this point.

In a whirlwind, you threw on a sweatshirt and pants, ready to go print out the missing posters that you had designed just a few days ago. As you slipped on sneakers, you realized something very crucial. She might just be at Steve’s place.

You groaned aloud, rubbing your temple as you thought of how difficult your cat was being. You were becoming a bit nervous to approach Steve, you hadn’t gotten off to the greatest start, and if your cat wasn’t there, things might just be awkward.

Regardless, you knew you needed to try, so you exited your own home, and knocked on the door of Steve’s.

A few moments later, he appeared with your cat in tow. 

“Hey!” he paused and trailed off, “I never got your name before.”

“That’s what you care about right now?” you glanced down at your animal. “It’s Y/N, by the way.”

“Hi, Y/N. Miso and I were just enjoying breakfast, if you’d like to join us?”

Was Steve shooting his shot? 

“I appreciate your offer, but I think I’m alright. I have to get back to work, and my cat is still in your custody,” your eyes flickered down to the animal who stood proudly by his side. 

“Maybe some other time,” he shrugged. “You work from home?”

You nodded, then squatted down to get eye level with your cat. 

“I’m jealous,” he chuckled. “Alright, I’ll stop bothering you now. Bye Miso, see you around, Y/N.”

You picked up your cat, who briefly dug her nails into the ground in resistance before submitting to her capture. As you brought her back home, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d made the right choice.

——

Ever since you’d discovered Miso, or Arabella’s secret life, it’s like you couldn’t stop noticing her connection to Steve. 

Some days, she’d be gone until the dead of night, when she’d meow and paw at your front door until you woke up. Other times she’d be laying in bed with you, and she smelled distinctly of your neighbor. Your cat had single handedly turned a stranger into a thoroughly integrated part of your life.

It was as if Miso was now your child, and Steve your ex-husband in a Cold War style custody battle, where Miso seemed to prefer her father. It was slightly disheartening. At the very least, you knew she was in good hands. 

You held a throw pillow to your chest while you watched a rerun of a sitcom on your television, procrastinating in your work for as long as you possibly could. The sound of a knock on your door pulled you from your trance, and as you peeked through the peephole of your door, you saw a slightly distorted Steve.

Opening up the door, you gave him just the faintest hint of a smile, “what’s up, neighbor? Need me to grab you some treats for Arabella, or something?”

“Kinda the opposite,” he gestured with his head down to the cat squirming in his hands. “I’m gonna be gone on a mission for the next week or so. I just wanted to let you know that if Miso gets out, she’s not with me.” 

Steve set her down on your carpet, and she happily collapsed at your feet, “keep her safe for me, alright?” 

——

You took a deep breath as you approached his door, hoping he hadn’t left just yet. You fiddled with the sticky note containing your number, and polaroid photo of your cat in your hand, considering turning around and scrapping the idea all together. 

It was silly to think that an Avenger would ever bother reaching out to you. You were probably overstepping anyway. Steve would think you were a freak and take full custody of your beloved Miso once and for all. 

Going against your better judgment, you set down the polaroid-note combo and quickly slid it under Steve’s door. Whatever happened happened.

The next morning, you were pleased to receive a notification from an unknown number. 

Send Miso pics?

You were more than happy to oblige. 

——

Over the course of Steve’s week-long mission, you’d sent several pictures and videos of your cat doing random things. Trying to get on the table, sleeping on top of your dryer, and even playing with one of the toys Steve provided.

Surprisingly, Steve wasn’t as dry of a texter as you thought he’d be. He was eating up all of the Miso content, and would occasionally even ask for you to send more photos. 

The final night of his mission, you were surprised when you received a FaceTime request, at first writing it off as a technical error (he was from a different time period, after all), but the follow up call demonstrated his intentions.

You cautiously picked up, the knot in your stomach growing as you did so, “hello?”

“Hi!” Steve greeted optimistically, the phone just a bit too close to his face. “Any Miso sightings?”

“Yeah, she’s actually sleeping on my foot right now,” you chuckled, flipping the camera so you could show her off in your dim, lamp-lit bedroom. 

“So cute,” he hummed, “how have you been?”

“Me?” you laughed quietly, “I’m not the one on a top secret mission in god-knows-where. But I’ve been fine. How are you?”

“Honestly? I’m pretty tired. Kinda can’t wait to get home and see you and Miso,” he said in a quieter voice. 

Your brain stalled out for a second. Steve was excited to see you? You hoped that you were reading this the right way, as you were more than willing to go with whatever it was that Steve was putting down.

“We’ll be expecting an immediate visit from you, then. I’ll let Miso know that she needs to start kneading a bread loaf for you as soon as possible. Any idea of what time you’re getting into D.C.?” 

“Probably late morning, but it really depends on when Natasha gets up.”

You had a moment where you realized that you were talking to a real life superhero, and he had just referenced his friend… who was also a superhero. You paused for a second. 

“Y/N? Hey, you still here?”

“Yeah! Yeah. I just zoned out for a sec. Well, you better get here safe or else someone is going to be very annoyed with you.”

Steve laughed softly across the line, and you adjusted yourself in bed, yawning softly.

“I’m sorry, I forgot how late it is over there,” Steve apologized.

“Don’t worry, I was up anyway. One of Miso’s boyfriends is pretty upset that he can’t come in here and spend the night with her.”

“Which one?”

“I think that grey one. I don’t really know what his voice sounds like, but she’s been leading him on lately,” you responded, eliciting a laugh from both you and Steve. 

“Try to get some sleep, okay? I don’t need you snoozing while I come to visit our girl.”

“You are something else, Steve Rogers,” you said fondly, adjusting your phone one last time as you hugged a pillow. “I’ll get to sleep. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow. Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

You hung up, and cuddled into your pillow with a sigh. Calling your dreams that night sweet was an understatement. 

——

You seemed to be Steve’s first stop after his mission, stopping at your door with his duffel bag still attached to his arm, and wearing a slightly dirty and much too small white t-shirt.

Expecting his presence, you quickly got the door and gave him a toothy grin. 

“It’s so good to see your face without a screen,” Steve commented. Internally, you swooned. 

“I could say the same for you, Steve.”

Miso had been summoned by the sound of Steve’s voice, practically sprinting to the door and meowing at him on the top of her lungs. 

“Miso really appreciates you coming here to see her first,” you added as he lifted her up and quietly cooed into her wrinkly head. “Feel free to take her for the next few days. I’m sure she’s getting tired of me.”

Steve shook his head at you, and grinned, “that’s so sweet of you,” he briefly looked down at his wristwatch, and his brows raised.

“Shit. I have to go, but I promise to see you soon. I’m glad to see that everything is well. Take care, Y/N,” Steve began making his way back to his own apartment, and you watched him with the semblance of a frown. 

You really needed to stop longing for the unobtainable. 

——

You hadn’t heard from Steve in a few days following his return, and your brief interaction with him. Part of you wondered if he was avoiding you for some  reason. 

Your phone lit up the room as it went off, and you grabbed it to look at the notification you received.

A picture of Steve grinning with Miso sitting on his chest looked back at you with a simple message connected to it.

Wanna come over? :D

[professional-benaddict]

Opposites Attract - part lll

CEO Tony, Mafia boss Peter, Mafia Steve, Mafia Bucky, threats, guns, manipulation

part l - part ll

Tag list: @lilcoffeecup @carelessannie @starkeristheendgame @yasha1215 @the-mad-starker @bluestarker @snowstark @sinditia @just-a-good-name @just-things-things @callmebill @skystar87 @justslightlycrazy @sarcastich @sydneyshipsstuff @lokitonypeter @thequeenoffish

Tony has always been in charge of this room, except for now.

He was sitting in the chair at the far end of the conference room, his chair pulled out far away from the table. Peter was sat on the table, his legs crossed and hands resting behind him on the table. A pair of keen brown eyes studied Tony, up and down, up and down. His gaze was just as immobilising as the guns within Tony’s range of view. Both Steve and Bucky had one hand resting on their hips in a way that showed the guns in their pants.

Tony refused to talk first. The less he talked, the better it would turn out for him probably. Don’t agitate, but also don’t cooperate. A fine line to tip-toe around.

“I assume you are familiar with the expression ‘opposites attract’, Mr Stark? You seemed quite attracted to me earlier when we first spoke.” Peter finally spoke, making Tony cringe, because it was true. “And I must say, I am intrigued by you, Mr Stark. Let’s play a game here. I love games, don’t you? So, you describe yourself, Mr Stark, and then I shall reply with whether I am the opposite or not. Understood? Because I know you, Mr Stark, and I think you could learn about me through you. Fun, isn’t it?”

No, not fun at all, but Tony did not say that out loud.

“I-I’d say I’m honest.” Tony started.

“Go on.” Peter urged when Tony did not continue right away.

“I trust people who are honest, and I invest in those kinds of people.”

“And I assume not so much in people you find to be dishonest?”

“Correct.” Tony swallowed thickly.

“Is that why you turned Beck down?” Peter asked head-on.

Now Tony was close to agitating, and so he could not answer right away, as much as he wanted to be honest and say yes. Yes, he turned down Beck because he did not find the man to be honest and trustworthy. Tony’s gaze flickered to the guns.

“Hey! Where’s that honesty, huh? Can’t you answer me?” Peter called out, snapping his fingers in front of Tony’s face. The man flinched back and cast his gaze down in embarrassment at being caught and for being threatened.

“Yes, I turned him down.” Tony said, unable to meet Peter’s eyes. “Because I didn’t find him to be honest.”

On the table, Peter hummed thoughtfully and swung his leg on top of his other leg. The leather of his shoe reflected the lights of the city outside.

“You see, Mr Stark, I think you give yourself too much credit with this honesty. I’m a liar, and I’m more honest than you for admitting that.” Peter said, hopping down from the table. Once more, Tony flinched at the sudden movement, and he had to take a breath before looking up to follow Peter.

“I’m in some seriously dirty business, Mr Stark. I don’t sell agricultural equipment, and I hope you figured that out already. In the public eye, my credibility is shot, and I need honest and trustworthy people to be on my side so I can do what I need to.”

“How can I be honest if I work for you? If I have to be honest, I’d have to go to the police right away.”

“No, no, you misunderstand, Mr Stark.” Peter said with a sing-song voice, his head lolling from side to side on his shoulders like a rag doll. His smile was sickly, making Tony cringe again and heave in an anxious breath. “You see! We are opposites! Just what I need. I am very much in touch with myself, Mr Stark. I know who I am, what I do. I’ve done my soul-searching, and frankly, I don’t see any higher being stopping me anytime soon. Nor the police. And I think your description of yourself matches my idea of you quite well. Look how well we are getting along already? Business should be child’s play for us, hm?”

Peter’s behaviour seemed manic to Tony, unpredictable and horrifying. People like him only seemed to exist in movies and shows. The true villains, who know they are villains and enjoy it. If anything, Peter seemed to be exactly that. Tony was too stunned to reply, so Peter continued.

“So, what I need from you is a facade. I need your face, your reputation and your signatures. I need the trust people have in you. As we both now know, I don’t compare at all in that department. So, what do you say to helping me out?”

“Letting you use me as your pawn?”

“If that is the expression your prefer, then yes.”

“I don’t. Prefer it.”

“Well, quite frankly I don’t care what you think of it. I need warm bodies, Mr Stark.” Peter said, coming up to rest his hands on the armrests of Tony’s chair. Their faces were inches apart. Even if Peter was acting like a villain, he smelled like a Prince Charming would. For a split second, Tony’s body seemed to confuse fear with desire, and the man saw many attractive features within Peter’s face and eyes behind all the lies and deception.

“And you are just what I need.” The young man added, lifting one finger to touch Tony’s adam’s apple and run it slowly up to his chin. “So, do we have a deal?”

Tony nodded.

“Great! You get to sit between Stevie and Buck in the car. They are proper cuddle bugs, so I hope you don’t mind that.” Peter said cheerfully, clapping his hands together as he pulled back. “Make sure he is comfy, okay?” The young man said to the two large men who stepped forward.

From his pocket, Bucky pulled out a roll of duct tape while Steve retrieved what looked like two cloths. These two beast-like men looked far from cuddly and kind.

Tony sighed heavily.

“For fuck’s sake…”

[whetstonefires]

mcu ethics bad

The thing is that, while I was angry at Tony during Age of Ultron, particularly when he rode over Bruce’s compunctions about building a giant combat super-robot and pressured him into the project like a very very bad friend who happened to also be wrong...

...and when he equipped Hulkbuster armor and fought the Hulk in the middle of a city rather than attempting de-escalation or attempting to haul the Hulk out into the giant adjacent desert....

(And my suspension of disbelief snapped like a frayed cable when he brought down a skyscraper that had had no time to be evacuated on a street full of fleeing people and the only reason we were given to believe he hadn’t just cold-bloodedly created massive civilian casualties was that he told his AI to find the impossible magic angle where doing this wouldn’t kill anyone...)

While I was angry with him then, and unspeakably relieved that he recognized his own damage and retired at the end, haha psych, I was revolted by him during Civil War.

It’s supposed to make us sympathize with a character more, spending so much time with them, getting into their heads, being shown their emotional drives and reactions to things, and we spent so much time with Tony during that film, understanding his point of view. And...I did understand him. He’s not complicated. I even sympathized with his emotional state.

But in the context of his actions, throughout the film, I gazed into that understanding the way I did into Kylo Ren’s face in the seconds after he first unmasked. I see you, I know you, everything you are is written here, and the lines of your shame and self-revulsion are so thick upon you, and you should be ashamed but your self-destruction does not expiate or justify one jot of the harm you do.

Because everything Tony did in Civil War came from a place of selfishness. He was selfish all throughout that movie down to his very spine.

And selfishness isn’t itself necessarily bad--you need a little, to get through life, you have the right to your own portion of it. Your boundaries and your needs. But the type of selfishness that is forcing other people pay dearly for your emotional comfort and sense of control: no.

That is tyranny. That is not acceptable.

And you know how I know he was being selfish? Because his motive for pushing the Sokovia Accords was his personal guilt for the destruction of Sokovia.

But the Accords didn’t address that at all! They were tangential to the issue! None of the terms of the Accords would have saved Sokovia--in fact, the existence of them could easily have prevented the evacuation and harm-reduction the Avengers managed there, without saving a single soul.

The Ultron crisis was something Tony did, not as Iron Man but as Tony Stark, with Bruce Banner’s help, and which Wanda as criminal fugitive later helped exacerbate, and which all the other Avengers were involved in only to mitigate harm.

Legislation, or...treaties, idk, the UN isn’t actually empowered to pass laws so who knows what this thing was...aimed at preventing another Sokovia would mandate constant ethical oversight of billionaire science man’s mad science. At the very least! He never has to run things by ethics boards because he’s self-funded, at the very least let’s invent a mechanism to make up for that.

That would address the actual Sokovia issue, both in terms of risks and in terms of Tony’s personal guilt feelings.

But no one suggests that! It’s not even on the table! Because no one, certainly not any government, can tell Tony Stark what to do unless he lets them, that’s been a clear matter of record since Iron Man 2.

And because no one writing this legal instrument of whatever description was actually motivated by wanting to avoid another Sokovia, or even another ‘Wanda tries to neutralize a suicide bomber but merely gives him a different, smaller victim pool’ incident.

They didn’t care! They blatantly didn’t care! The entire thing was a ghoulish use of the dead to gain enough political leverage over the Avengers to put a leash on them!

(Which might not be a bad thing in principle, everything needs its checks, but when the last quasi-governmental organization you worked for turned out to be Nazis who were only prevented from staging a mass slaughter of undesireables by the skin of your teeth, I think you’re well within your rights to be very choosy about who you agree to obey, and to be firmly against pledging your honor to follow people whose first move was dishonest coercive tactics.

Actually you’re well within your rights to demand to negotiate the terms of even a much less sweeping contract, even without the Nazis. The whole approach to this thing stank to high heaven.

The fact that it was written by the UN like a treaty, expected to be signed by private individuals like a contract, and then enforced like a law except not because 1) laws are for everyone 2) if you break a law you get a trial not extrajudicial incarceration and 3) being pressured to consent to a restriction and then punished for refusing consent is hypocritical circular logic and in fact police corruption at its finest, all continues to show it was a bullshit nonsense franken-document.)

The whole movie is people ghoulishly using the dead to manipulate Tony into making bad decisions in response to his emotional pain. That’s. The plot of the film.

Then Zemo staged T’Chaka’s assassination and framed Bucky for it to raise the tension, ramp up the pressure, and prevent any sitting-down and talking reasonably through this, which might have allowed for the recognition of how extremely bullshit the entire concept was.

Tony was being used. Tony was a tool of bad people for most of that movie, and while Zemo banked on using his wrath for it, the politicos were leaning on his guilt.

And there’s honestly little I hold in deeper scorn than going out and hurting other people to assuage your own guilt and treating this as having the moral high ground. No. You don’t have the moral high ground on account of your guilt motivation. You have it if the actions you took were just, or at least could reasonably be assumed to have been so at the time.

And Tony fucking knew they weren’t. He didn’t even last to the end of the movie before recognizing that he’d been manipulated and fucked up, and doubling back.

That he then walked into a different manipulation, turned on a dime, and had to be stopped from doing a murder doesn’t unwrite that.

And it drives me nuts that people will say Tony was acting out of principle while Steve was acting out of personal attachment. Because sure, the Bucky thing was important, was the reason he was walking forward against all opposition instead of standing still to argue, but it wasn’t the reason Steve said no, while...

Tony wasn’t acting out of principle. Tony isn’t...very good at having principles. That’s not even a criticism or condemnation, it’s just how he functions. Since Iron Man he’s been substituting good intentions and emotional investment, which has worked out to varying degrees. It works best for huge, difficult, very straightforward decisions like ‘ride the nuke through the portal and save my hometown.’ It works less well for nuanced situations.

Tony was, as usual, acting out of emotion. And some awful shitheads who’d figured out where his levers were had calculated how to jiggle his emotion switches in the right places to make him do exactly what they wanted.

And you can tell he wasn’t acting out of principle because, for example, someone who was trying to get the superhero community under outside control for the sake of harm mitigation...

...well, firstly wouldn’t have chosen to stage a massive battle? But it’s possible someone in the UN specifically told him to do that, and in theory they at the very least signed off on it, presumably for its PR value of making Captain America look deranged and violent since it’s a deranged decision from every other angle, so yay, he can pass that responsibility up the chain and not have to angst about it, as promised.

But I was going to say would not have approached a minor who (this timeline takes pains to show us) had no prior experience of battle or even, somehow, serious violent crime, to recruit him to go be a government child soldier on another continent, without his guardian’s knowledge or consent. There were overtones of blackmail in Tony’s approach, before it turned out Peter was such a big fan he didn’t need that. What the fuck frankly.

That is not the action of someone who wants to start doing things by the letter, scaling the violence down, keeping within the law and putting the power of decisionmaking in other people’s hands because he’s realized he can’t trust his own.

And frankly even if he did act like that I wouldn’t necessarily support his choices, in particular his snap decision to behave coercively toward other Avengers with vastly less social power and security than he has.

And that’s the other thing! Everything about ‘Tony + Accords BFFs’ rings so hollow because he has never thought rules applied to him, and he knows perfectly well the entire time he’s fighting to force this surrender of agency down other people’s throats that he is going to be practically immune.

This man was technically a terrorist, proabably the most prolific single terrorist in world history until his rogue android exceeded his body count, but he was immune to prosecution because he was in tight with the United States military-industrial complex and basically untouchable due to his status within capitalism, and pursuing their international goals anyway. In the time between Iron Man and Iron Man II he was basically a one-man upgrade of the US drone program, and so good at it that the crest of blood he carved through the Middle East allowed him to announce he had ‘privatized world peace.’

(You are never going to get a world peace worth anything on the basis of a giant flying gun, okay.)

He went to war as a private individual, against non-state actors who were not directly threatening him, which is very much defined as ‘mass murder’ in all domestic and international law, and the US army in response sued him for control of his weapon. And lost! Lost.

No one attempted to press charges. No one. Because Tony Stark is above all that. And he knows it.

And like. I’m willing to accept the mass murder under the heading of ‘superheroing’ within the terms of this setting! Even if, after his vengeance rampage on his specific kidnappers, this violence was kept strictly off-screen for a reason. I did that! I bent that far! Genre convention!

But this history is kind of vitally important to any analysis of what he thought he was doing, and what he actually was doing, when he decided to become the iron gauntlet of the Sokovia Accords.

The currently active member of the Avengers who needed muzzling most was very manifestly Iron Man, and he knew even as he jammed the muzzle on all his comrades to make himself feel better that it would affect him the least, even if he didn’t finally retire for real this time. You don’t force Tony Stark. Not if you want anything out of it but blown up. You persuade him.

And once you have...oh, look at what he can do.

[beyscape]

Under the Moonlight

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Your brother Tony threw the best parties; they just weren’t your thing. Steve knew of this, and decided to check up on you.

Requested by: @franciose18xx​

Word Count: 2172

Warnings: some swearing. Steve wouldn’t approve lol

A/N: I had a dumb smile on while writing this, I love Steve too much.

  Being Tony Stark’s little sister had a lot of benefits. His love for throwing huge parties, however, was one of the few downsides you could think of.

  The music was loud in the “party floor” as Tony liked to call it, and the crazy amount of people around you kept getting drunker and drunker as the party progressed. You smiled and nodded at the occasional faces you recognized, but otherwise you kept to yourself, swirling the drink glass in your hands and watching the ice slowly melt. Yes, watching the ice melt was much more interesting than the party surrounding you. Suffocating you.

  It wasn’t like you were particularly introverted, in fact, with those you were close with you could be described as loud, as wild. After all, you were related to Tony Stark. In these types of parties though, there simply were too many strange faces, and you couldn’t deny that it made you uncomfortable. Your eyes trailed over the scene unfolding around you as you wondered when was acceptable for you to sneak back to the lab upstairs. You were thinking of the latest project you were working on with Tony  when your gaze focused on the far end of the room.

  A small smile appeared on your face as you watched Steve laugh at the antics of Thor. Another benefit of being Tony’s sister. If it wasn’t for your brother going and getting mixed with super hero stuff, you never would have met Steve Rogers.

Noticing your stare even with the great distance laying between you, Steve raised his head to meet your eyes. He simply smiled at you, giving you a slow nod before turning back to face the God of Thunder beside him. You averted your eyes quickly, too quickly, and cursed. You hadn’t meant to get caught staring at him, and now he probably thought you were a creep. What a great party.

You liked Steve, even that fact had taken way too long to admit to yourself, but you could never tell if he had the same feelings. He was such a gentleman that it was so hard to decipher whether he was  just being nice or he nursed the same feelings as you. Things would have been much easier if he was a program you could run through a decoder and figure out his codes. Humans were too messy, too complicated.

“Aaaaaaand there is the smartest Stark!” An arm hung around your shoulders, the smell of alcohol hitting you before you turned to face the person intruding your deep thoughts.

“You really need to stop drinking more than you can handle.” You shook your head as your brother gave you the stupid grin that was his trademark when drunk.

“You really need to fix your attitude and mingle with people.” He retorted before sticking his tongue out.

“Such a child,” you muttered under your breath, “Let’s go get you some coffee. You don’t wanna get shitfaced so early in your own damn party.” You mirrored his look, sticking a tongue out back.

“What did you just call me? Smartass. YOU are the child.” He hiccupped, swaying on his feet. You let him lean on you.

“Am I a child or a smartass, make up your mind.” Leading him through the sea of people towards the bar area proved to be more difficult than you originally anticipated. “When the hell did you get so heavy? One would think the whole superhero stuff would keep you fit.” You grunted as he fully put his weight on you, almost as if doing it on purpose to mess with you. You wouldn’t put it past Tony.

“Smartass.” Tony ruffled your hair with his free hand.

“See, you’re so drunk you can’t think of new stuff to call me. No fun.” You could see the bar now, just a few more feet and you could dump your potato sack of a brother on one of the stools. Just then, you felt the weight raised off of you.

“Hi Y/N.” Pepper smiled at you before shaking her head at Tony’s state.

“Pepper! My savior!” You breathed a sigh of relief.

“He drank more than he could handle, didn’t he? Can’t believe he keeps doing this. You go, I’ll take care of him.” Pepper gave you a reassuring nod.

“Did I ever tell you that I love you? Cause I do.” You thanked her, honestly happy that she would be taking care of Tony’s drunk ass, you made a mental note to lecture him the next morning. Or when he recovered from the wicked hangover waiting for him. What made you even happier though was the fact that Pepper pretty much gave you the green light to leave. You merrily obliged.

Before making your way back up to the lab and working until ungodly hours of the night, you decided getting some fresh air would be the best to clear your head. You didn’t have much to drink, certainly not as much as your brother, but the two and a half glasses of whiskey still made you feel tipsy enough.

You pushed the glass doors of the balcony on the other end of the floor open, letting the cool air wash over you. The chill of the night was a welcome sensation on your skin, you leaned your arms on the metal railing. The moon was close to turning full, but it was big enough that there was no need for lighting as you stood on the balcony. The pale light of the moon washed everything gently.

“Hey.” A voice called out from behind you, you turned to see Steve leaning against the doorway with his hands in his pockets. A dashing smile was on his face, the kind that made you spend way too long thinking about.

“Hey.” You replied, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Why are you not at the party?”

“You’re not at the party either.”

 He chuckled, nodding. He took a step, then two towards you. Your breath hitched as he closed the distance. You didn’t know what you were expecting, or better yet, hoping to happen, but it definitely wasn’t this. Steve mirrored your previous position, leaning over the railing. You turned back.

“I saw you practically run out, figured I’d come and check up on you.” He was facing the nearly-full moon, its kind light illuminating his beautiful face. You wished you could capture this moment and forever keep it.

“I just,” you licked your lips, “I’m not great with parties.”

“I know. Honestly, me neither. I much prefer being here.” See, this was the thing about Steve. You never ran out of things to say, you were never speechless. Your brother often teasingly complained about you being too sassy for your own good, but being with Steve pretty much flicked a switch and suddenly you found with a slightly open mouth and nothing to say. No cheeky remarks.

“You must be the first person that prefers my company over one of Tony’s epic parties.”

“You thought I would rather watch people get drunk and do stupid things instead of  being on a balcony with the smartest, funniest and the most gorgeous woman in the whole building? I may not be a genius like you but I’m not a fool either, Y/N.”

Your mouth fell open. Never in a million years did you expect those words to spill out of Steve’s mouth. Was he really flirting with you just now? He raised his eyebrows at your expression.

“Was that too much? I’m sorry, I’m about ninety years behind on this whole flirting thing.” He grimaced slightly.

“No! I mean, no.” You shook your head, surpassing a delighted laughter. “You were doing great, grandpa.”

“See, now you’re teasing me. Just tell me it was too cheesy. Come on, I can take it.”

“Okay it was a little cheesy.”

“I knew it!”

“You didn’t let me finish. It was a little cheesy, but frankly, I like cheese.”

 He laughed, and your heart leapt as you couldn’t help but join him. You wished he would always laugh like he had just now. Silence fell as you both faced the moon once more, shy smiles dancing on your faces as you both stole tiny glances at each other. Finally, Steve broke the silence.

“Y/N.” Your name rolled off of his tongue, his voice now more serious. You stared into his blue eyes, captivated.

“Steve.” He moved closer. You gulped.

“May I kiss you?” He asked, and of course he did, and you exhaled slowly. You managed to give him a small nod.

He placed a gentle hand on your cheek, smiling down at you in a way of softness you never witnessed before. He closed the distance. It was a delicate kiss; his lips were warm on yours that were cold with the chilly air and it was everything you dreamt of. You sighed as it ended way too soon for your liking. He peered at your face, searching, this time it was you who leaned in.

The kiss initiated by you was deeper as your lips crashed, Steve’s hands sneaking down to your waist as he pressed your bodies closer. One of your hands rested on his well-toned chest while the other ran through his blonde hair, something you found yourself wanting to do for so very long. He was a much better kisser for someone who admitted to having little to none experience, you thought, as electric waves were sent down your spine. You pulled away for breath, reluctant in doing so.

“I would like to take you on a date, some dinner and maybe movies.” He raised his eyebrows, more of a statement than a question.

“I think that would be very nice.” You pecked his lips, his grip tightening slightly.

“What do we have here?” A slurring voice interrupted the intimate moment, sending you and Steve flying to different ends of the too-small balcony. Tony appeared in the doorway, scowling. “Capsicle, that better not be my baby sister you were kissing just now.”

Steve took a step towards him, ready to explain, only to be cut by Pepper.

“Sorry guys, I turned away for one second and he managed to get away.” She noted the blush on both you and Steve’s cheeks, as well as the look of annoyance on Tony’s. She gave you a sly wink. “Don’t let us interrupt.” She linked her arm with his.

“Pepper, I—we–” You looked at the woman with wide eyes as she held up a hand.

 “I didn’t see anything, and this one,” she patted Tony’s arm, “will be lucky if he remembers his name in the morning.” She winked at you before leading a protesting Tony away.

 You looked at Steve, who shared your mortified expression at the close call.

“Pepper’s right. He won’t remember, we’re safe for now.” A breathy laugh escaped your lips, Steve pulling you in. You rested your forehead on his shoulder.

“I cannot believe we almost got caught this soon.” Steve shook his head.

“So, dinner, you said?” You muttered into his shoulder.

 ------------

 It was some time past afternoon when Tony finally sauntered into the kitchen area, where you were perched on one of the stools. Steve was seated across you, focused on the newspaper in his hands.

“You look like hell.” You stated matter-of-factly.

“Love you too.” He groaned before coming to a halt. He squinted his eyes at you and Steve. You forced yourself to look bored, trying your best to not look at Steve.

“I didn’t see you two kiss last night, did I? Because that would be crazy. Right?” His gaze drifted between you and the soldier.

“What? No. Do you even know how drunk you were? It’s no surprise you imagined things.” You shot back, slightly too defensive. Tony, on a regular day, would pick up on it immediately. He was, however, so damn hangover at the time that he didn’t notice it. Or the pointed looks shared between you and Steve.

“Yeah, it would be crazy.” He muttered as he grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and made his way back to presumably his room. You exhaled sharply as Steve put down the newspaper.

“This is too stressful, should we just tell him?” He reached over and grabbed your hand, placing a kiss on your knuckles.

“And have him die from a heart attack? No way.” You got up, and gingerly walked towards Steve. The look of fondness sending the butterflies in your stomach in a frenzy. You placed a soft kiss on his temple. “He’ll figure it out on his own soon enough. I for one don’t wanna deal with his dramatic ass right now.

“Language.” Steve tilted his head, grinning.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Alright, grandpa.” You pecked him on the lips before running off, not giving him a chance to reply.

Steve shook his head as he laughed to himself. This would be interesting.

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

this was written very late into the night and i’m too impulsive to not post it before sleep, so i apologize for any mistakes!!

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CHRIS EVANS TAGLIST @marvelouspottering

let me know if anyone else is interested in taglists! 😊

[hughiecampbelle]

Reconnecting With Your Brother Tony Would Include:

Requested: @yandereseptilper​

It's been years since you've spoken

There never seemed to be a good time to start

And there never really was a need to

With his line of work, it complicated things, but you knew Tonys personal life better than you would have without it

His partners, his drama, everything was reported on

Tony was older than you by more than a few years

There was enough of a gap to make things awkward, so that there was little the two of you shared in common

It didn't help that, where he excelled in science, you wanted absolutely nothing to do with the subject entirely

When your father was around, he was always trying to pit the two of you against one another, believing the competition would make you better

In fact, it did the opposite

Putting you off your passions from a young age

It didn't make Tonys anger towards you any better either

Too many times growing up he hears his father say he was going to do things right with you, that he learned from his mistakes in parenting

Your mother tried to help, assuring Tony it was another mindless comment, but it already caused enough pain by being said

Even the death of your parents couldn't bring you two together

Your brother was still a child himself, learning to face the world on his own, he wasn't at all prepared to raise you as well

You learned to be independent from a really young age

You had to parent yourself, growing up too soon, too quickly, leaving behind the same childish wants your peers had

For a time, though you lived together, you lead two totally different lives

You'd exchange a sentence or two, but that was all

In a lot of ways, you were strangers who just so happened to live together

Rarely did you share any time together

It was lonely, and tiring, and frustrating

As soon as you decided you were old enough, you packed what you could and you left, believing it would be better on your own

For the most part, you already were

Tony, an adult by this time, couldn't do much

He couldn't catch you, he couldn't find you, he couldn't stop you, and, at the time, he frankly didn't want to

He was tired of this life he didn't choose

He didn't choose to have a younger sibling, he didn't choose for his parents to die, he didn't choose all this new responsibility that had, all at once, been dropped on his lap, expected to pick up and carry on without so much as a bad word

He figured, if you were happier without him, why stop you?

Now, as an actual adult, with life experience and loved ones, realizing just how young you were, he regrets that decision every single day

You were a child, lost in your own grief, unsure of where to go, in need of someone to care and love for you like a real brother should have

That was years ago though, what feels like a lifetime, and though you used to hold a hell of a grudge, eventually you had to let go of it

No use in holding on to so much anger

It had a rocky start, but you managed to be on your own

You made a life and career for yourself, even going as far as to change your name to your mother's maiden name, needing to shed all the things that came with being a Stark

It was safer anyways, down the line

You wanted a peaceful life, that couldn't happen if you were still associated with Iron Man, an Avenger, playboy millionaire, etc. etc.

All these years, he mentioned to reach out, call you, but he was so afraid that he'd burned that bridge when he was a teenager, too naive and stubborn and arrogant to care about anyone but himself

He did find you, though

Hired someone to look for you, find out if you were okay, what you were up to, where you lived now, etc.

He still checks up on you from time to time

Tony doesn't have family photos just lying around, but there are a few of you two together as little kids in places he can always see

He rarely spoke of you, only with people he trusted with his life

He's glad he can leave you out of the media frenzy, knowing as soon as the world got wind of Tony Starks younger sibling, they'd go mad

Like most things in your life, he wasn't planned, at all

You happened to be in the city for work

You'd given little thought to your brother until you saw it, the tower

It was a terrifying feeling, a mixture of excitement and heartbreak, knowing the brother you spent more time without than with was in there, that any second you could have run into him on the street and spill coffee all over him like any other stranger

Would he even recognize you? After so long?

You spent a lot of time outside the doors, watching waiting, unsure of what to di, how to handle the situation

There weren't a lot of things to help for this kind of thing

You forgave him, that kid who never fought for you, you thought you had, but anything could have happened as soon as you saw him as who he is, instead of just through the television screen

You paced up and down until it was dark, when the sidewalk stream had steadied and the lights glowed, making it even more intimidating

He couldn't believe his eyes

There you were, on the security cameras, pacing, talking to yourself, worrying yourself into a frenzy the same way he had

For a few days he let this go on, but it was getting colder, he couldn't let you stay out there all night agonizing over a decision just to freeze

He made his way down, jacket in hand, his stomach flipping

Would you be mad at him?

He'd played out this situation too many times, wanting to expect anything

If you were mad, he'd understand. If you never wanted to see him or speak to him again, he'd understand. He just wanted this moment

He tapped your shoulder, unsure what to do or say, holding out his coat when you turned around, catching you by surprise

"You uh, you looked cold."

You looked around, checking to see if anyone else was seeing what you were, that Tony was really in front of you, offering you his coat

"Thanks."

You took it awkwardly, the two of you starring at one another in the night

What else were you supposed to do?

In that time, you watched him, made note of all the changes in him from the last time you saw him in person

Lines in his face like your father, with more gray hairs, but he still had the same eyes, the same smile he had, that you remembered as a child

You did that for a while, tension building, before he invited you inside, stuttering over his words, his own nerves getting to him

You followed him through, on to the elevator, never really expecting to get this far, to actually see him, talk to him

You found yourself in the kitchen, grateful for the warmth, stumbling over your own words, wondering what to say, how to say it

How could you fit years worth of conversation into a single sentence?

You're not sure what to say to one another, how to be around eachother, but the second he brings up old memories, you noticing the pictures all around, the two of you visibly relax, oddly comforted

You were just the same as he remembered. A little taller sure, but he could still see the baby he held for the first time in your features

He never really realized it, but you'd always be that baby to him

You two spend all night reminiscing, telling one another things you already knew, things you should have said a long, long time ago, regret seeping into the conversation with no way to stop it

You had a flight to catch, business trip over, cutting the reunion short

You thanked him, for the coat, grabbing your things, realizing you wouldn't have much time to pack

Tony doesn't want to let you go. In fact, it's the last thing he does, scared this would be the last time you'd see one another before you disappeared out of one another's lives again

He chases after you, a look of panic in his eyes, one you knew too well even after so long

You assured him you'd be back, that you'd have more time together, and that you'd call him when you got home, his number in your phone now

He's not sure why he does it, but he does. That brotherly instinct takes over and he hugs you, the way he should have when you were kids

He hugs you and he tells you he missed you, a lot

Your relationship isn't perfect, it isn't healed just like that, but you're working on it, you're both putting in the effort

You see each other more, and talk when you can

He invites you to parties and events, introducing you to his teammates, his family, now your family

He calls or texts after missions depending on the time, wanting to let you know he's okay and that he can talk whenever you're free

It's not perfect, and there's still so much regret, but it's better

You're finally able to have the brother you always wanted

The one you always needed

[enchantedlokii]

Know Your Value

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: language

Characters: Edwin Jarvis, Ana Jarvis, Peggy Carter, Howard Stark, Maria Stark, Tony Stark, Daniel Sousa, Steve Rogers

Mentioned: Whitney Frost, Jason Wilkes, Rose Roberts, Aloysius Samberly, Joseph Rogers, Michael Carter, Bruce Banner, Loki Odinson, Natasha Romanoff, Nick Fury, Pepper Potts, Jack Thompson

When Edwin Jarvis first learned that his wife would never be able to have children, he had been devastated. He couldn’t understand what he had done to deserve this. What Ana had done to deserve this. She was never supposed to be injured at the hands of Whitney Frost. She was never supposed to be injured at all.

He only realized it was his own fault as he followed Peggy through the desert. The woman’s words hit him like a truck. He had almost lost the woman he loved because of his actions. Then, he thought it would make it better if he got revenge. Even if he died in the process. For years, he thought he would never forgive himself, but that forgiveness came when he learned that Howard’s wife, Maria, was pregnant.

As much as Edwin loved his friend, he knew that Howard wasn’t the fatherly type. He was rambunctious, inappropriate, and a bit crude at times. And he was a busy man. Especially now, with Stark Industries having reached its peak. He knew that this poor child would never have the father figure that he deserved. So he promised himself that he would do whatever he could to help this child once he was born.

Edwin and Ana didn’t meet Tony until the day that Howard and Maria brought him home, but they immediately fell in love with him. Ana had took him carefully and held him close to her chest, rocking him back and forth and humming a Hungarian lullaby. If it were possible, Edwin believed he fell in love with her all over again in that moment.

As he had expected, Edwin and Ana helped a lot with raising the boy. They could see early on that he didn’t have a good relationship with his father. While he and his mother were closer, Maria Stark was a busy woman and often had to leave him in their care. They never minded, of course, but it seemed to take a toll on Tony. Especially as he got older and was able to understand exactly what his life was.

But there was something special about the boy. They all knew he was smart. To be the son of Howard Stark, one would have to be a genius, but this was more than that. This child was on a whole other level.

“What are you working on?” Edwin asked as he walked into the common area. Tony, ten years old at this point, was sitting on the carpet with parts spread out around him. He didn’t look up as Edwin spoke, but did acknowledge his presence with a nod.

“Hey, Jarvis,” he started, focusing on his project. “I’m trying to. . . Get this. . . Woah!”

The boy pulled his head back as a bolt went flying through the air, landing a few inches away. He grinned and looked up at Edwin. “I found this old radio set in the garage and was trying to fix it, but it’s pretty rusty. I’m not sure I can get it to work.”

“Right, I—” Edwin was interrupted by the sound of a doorbell. Confused, he looked up. “I wonder who that might be.”

Edwin started towards the door, hearing footsteps behind him as Tony followed. He was surprised when he opened the door and saw a familiar face. “Hello, Mr. Jarvis. Sorry to arrive unannounced.”

“Why, Mrs. Carter,” Edwin replied, stepping to the side. “Come in, come in. It’s been quite a while, hasn’t it?”

“Indeed,” Peggy replied, dropping her bags at her feet. “I would have called, but I feared you might be busy. Daniel and I need a place to stay for a couple of weeks. You don’t suppose Howard would mind us crashing here?”

“Oh, not at all,” Edwin told her. “He will be glad to see you.”

Peggy smiled before her gaze lowered to look at Tony, who was watching her with a confused expression. “You must be Anthony,” she started, crouching down and holding out a hand to shake his. “You’ve grown since I saw you last.”

Tony hesitantly took the woman’s hand and gave it a small shake. “Don’t call me Anthony,” he told her.

“My apologies,” Peggy said quickly. “What would you like me to call you then?”

“Tony,” he said simply, taking his hand away. Edwin was a bit surprised by the stiff movements the boy was making. It was as if he didn’t want to see Peggy. He supposed that he would not remember the woman, it having been several years since they relocated to Malibu, but it was unlike him to be so detached.

“Well hello, Tony,” Peggy replied. “My name is Margaret, but you can call me Peggy. I’m a friend of your father’s.”

“I know,” he said harshly before turning to Edwin. “I’m going to work on my radio now.”

Before Edwin could stop him, Tony was already returning to his spot on the carpet. The man was going to apologize before he saw Daniel struggling to carry a bag in. “Oh, let me get that for you, Mr. Sousa.” He took the bag from the crutched man and nestled it in the corner to move later. “Come, we have a lot to catch up on.”

Peggy was perplexed by the way Howard’s child reacted to seeing her. The boy seemed to want nothing to do with her, trying to avoid her in any way he could. It confused her, honestly, and worried her a bit.

“Are you sure about this, Peggy?” Ana asked. “I can stay with him. I don’t mind.”

“It’s not a problem, Ana,” Peggy assured her, holding her friend close in a hug. “You and Mr. Jarvis deserve a break.”

“Oh, thanks, Peg,” Ana said, smiling a bit before pulling away.

The moment Edwin and Ana left, Peggy turned to look around the building. It had been years since she had been here, but it still felt like home to her. She was beyond grateful when Howard and Maria agreed that it was completely fine for her and Daniel to stay as long as they needed.

It felt like old times again. Especially when Howard had proposed that they invite Jason and Rose and Aloysius over for dinner one evening in the near future. It just felt right.

But a lot had changed over the years. Her and Daniel were married now. They had two children together; a twenty-four year old daughter and a twenty-one year old son. Rose and Aloysius were married, but they didn’t have any kids. They did have a cat, however. Jason never got married, but he was one of the top scientists at Stark Industries now.

Then there was Howard. Peggy never imagined Howard settling down. The whole time she knew him, he had bounced from woman to woman. There were only a select few he saw as more than a toy. But he had changed when he met Maria. They ended up married a few years later, and then they had Tony.

“Right. Where is that rascal?” Peggy asked herself, starting her search. She found the boy in the garage, searching through a box. “Hello.”

“Hi,” he said dryly, not looking up.

“I was wondering if you might like to watch a film with me,” she started, trying to not let the boy’s tone phase her.

“I’m busy,” Tony said, continuing to search through his box.

Peggy contemplated for a moment, trying to figure out how to hand him. She started forward and crouched down, reaching to hold the flap of the box. “Maybe I could help.”

Tony glared up at her with a mixture of emotions in his eyes. “Can’t you get the hint and leave me alone?!” he snapped, pulling the box away from her. “I don’t want your help.”

Part of Peggy thought it might be wise to leave Tony be. She could always try to talk to him later, but she knew that it would be harder to get him to open up when there were others around. She had interrogated enough people in her life to know that. So, she instead put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. He flinched noticeably, but didn’t swing at her like she expected him to. “Is there a reason that you are acting this way?”

“Acting what way?” he muttered, refusing to look at her. “I just want you to leave me alone.”

“How come?” she asked. “I only want to help. I would like to get to know you, and I know this is not how you normally act. I asked Mr. Jarvis and he said that you’re usually an extreme good kid.”

Tony was quiet, looking down into the book. He looked like he wanted to say something, but no words came. Carefully, Peggy continued.

“You won’t hurt my feelings if you tell me what’s wrong, Tony,” she told him. “I can see you don’t like me, and that’s okay. But I would like to know why so I might be able to fix that.”

Finally, Tony looked up at her. “My father cares about you more than he cares about me,” the boy told her, his voice wavering slightly. “He talks about you all the time. You and Captain America. Every. Single. Day.”

Peggy felt her heart break for the child. She could easily see how upset he was by the fact. That’s something a child his age should never have to worry about; his parents loving someone else more than they loved them. It wasn’t fair. “I had no idea,” she told him. “I greatly apologize.”

Tony held her gaze for a moment before he sighed, his shoulders drooping. “I guess it’s not really your fault,” he admitted. He opened his mouth to speak again but quickly shut it, looking back down at the box.

“I suppose you want me to leave you alone now,” Peggy started after a few beats of silence. “I apologize for upsetting you.”

Peggy stood and started to turn away. She knew that she would need to talk to Daniel about finding someplace else to stay. She didn’t want to make this child miserable, and she didn’t see any way that she could turn things around. He had a good reason for disliking her, and frankly, she wanted to punch Howard for it. Because he had made his own child feel like there was someone more important than him.

“Mrs. Carter?”

Peggy stopped and looked over her shoulder. Tony had stopped looking through the box and was standing up. He looked hesitant, but finally met her gaze. “Yes, Tony?”

Tony shuffled his feet as he replied. “A movie. . . A movie sounds nice,” he told her. “If. . . If you still want to watch one.”

Peggy smiled and nodded. “That sounds splendid,” she replied, feeling her heart melt at the way his eyes brightened. A smile formed on his lips and he hurried after her. Maybe she could turn this around.

“Ow, hey!”

Howard held his cheek, rubbing it gently. He had been punched by Peggy Carter before, more than once, but this time he had no idea what he had done to deserve it. “What was that for?”

“Do you care to explain why your child believes you care more about me than you care about him?” Peggy asked. Howard could see fire in her eyes as she spoke. She was furious with him.

“Peg, I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Howard huffed. “The kid is probably just looking for attention. You should just ignore him when he acts like that.”

“Ignore him?” Peggy questioned, following him as he moved to put his suitcase on the table. “Is that what you believe parenting is? Ignoring your child when he’s upset?”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Howard said sharply, turning to face her once again. “I don’t ignore Tony. I’m busy. You understand that, right?”

“You’re supposed to make time for your children, Howard!” Peggy snapped, throwing her arms out. “They’re impressionable. Especially one as smart as yours. He’s going to remember this when he’s older and it’s not going to be good.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Howard asked. He was a bit offended by her criticism. It was unusually harsh for Peggy. “That I’m a bad parent?”

“If you can’t see that you’re hurting your son, then yes! Yes, it means that you’re a bad parent!” Peggy hissed at him. “Do you not realize how lucky you are to be able to be there for your son?”

“Peggy, you’re talking out of your head. Have you been drinking?” Howard asked lightly, trying to lighten her mood.

Peggy took his shirt in her fist. “Do you forget that Steve’s father died before he was born?” she asked. “Do you forget that my nephew grew up without his father because my brother died when he was f*cking five years old?”

“Peggy—”

“Do you forget that Ana cannot have her own children?” She pressed. “That her and Edwin would give so much to have a child, yet you act like yours doesn’t even exist!”

“Come on, Peg,” Howard started. “The kid doesn’t need me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” she said, letting go of him. “To be a genius, you’re a bloody idiot. F*ck you, Howard!”

Howard watched as Peggy turned to leave. Before she slammed the door behind her, her gaze burned into him. “Steve would be so disappointed if he found that you idolize him. That you use the fact that you knew him to make your child feel inferior.”

Without another word, she was gone; leaving Howard to run his hands through his graying hair and try to comprehend what just happened.

“You’re leaving already?”

Peggy frowned as she heard the small voice behind her. When she turned, she found that Tony was standing there, giving her a sad look. She sighed and crouched down in front of him. “Is it because of me?” he asked. “I-I’m sorry, Mrs. Carter. I changed my mind.”

“Hey,” she said softly, putting a hand on his cheek. “This is not your fault, Tony.”

The boy was quiet, looking down at the ground. Peggy turned to Daniel and the man understood, limping away into the other room to give them some space. She took a breath and turned back to the child, giving him a small smile.

“You are so incredibly smart,” she told him. “I can see that just from being here a couple of weeks. You have a wonderful mind.”

Tony gave her a small smile but didn’t say anything. “I know that things aren’t perfect here,” she continued. “But I want you to promise me something. Can you do that for me?”

The boy nodded quickly without hesitation. “Y-yeah.”

“Good,” she replied. “I want you to promise me that you will do your best to do what’s right, no matter what the cost. With a brain as big as yours, you could change the world some day. I have no doubt that you will, but I want you to promise me that you won’t let that opportunity pass by when it comes to you.”

“Okay,” he breathed. “Okay, I promise.”

“Thank you,” she replied, pulling the boy close and kissing him on top of the head. “One more thing; know your value, Tony. Know what you’re worth and don’t let anyone try to convince you otherwise. No matter who they are or what they’ve done. No one knows you better than yourself.”

“Big man in a suit of armor. Take that away and what are you?”

Tony wasn’t sure about Steve Rogers even before those words. He had spent his whole life hating this man. The man that his father had always cared about more than him. And then to hear him say that. To hear that he after all Tony had done, this man refused to call him a hero.

Yet here he was, standing in the elevator next to this same man. The man who was holding an opened watch, looking at the picture of the woman they were going to see. Why he had agreed to this, he had no idea. Why he had been the one, when Steve asked him if he knew Peggy; “her and your dad were really close;” he had been the one to say “sure, I still do.” He had actually laughed at the man’s reaction to finding out that she was still alive.

Now that they were here, in the same building as Peggy Carter, he felt like he was betraying her. That he was going against the promise that he had made to her decades ago. That he wouldn’t let anyone talk to him the way Steve had talked to him on the helicarrier.

It was only because of what Bruce had told him after the Battle of New York that he didn’t back out or even humiliate Steve in front of Peggy, telling her what the man had said to him. Because they were all being controlled that day. The stone in Loki’s Staff, the Mind Stone, had been influencing them. All of them. That’s why he and Steve were butting heads. That’s why Natasha tried to convince Fury to lock Bruce up. That’s why Bruce had picked up the staff without realizing it.

“I’m worried she won’t be happy to see me.” Steve’s voice pulled Tony from his thoughts.

“Right. About that,” Tony started. “She might not actually remember you. Not at first, at least. Never fails, she calls me Howard every time I step through that door. I have to remind her who I am. Never remind her he’s dead, but I think she figures it out.”

“She has Alzheimer’s?” Steve asked, a sad look crossing his face.

“Afraid so, Cap,” he replied, sticking his hands in his pockets before making his way out of the elevator. “But she’s a strong woman. It doesn’t bother her.” He paused outside Peggy’s door. “Let me go in first. Try to explain it to her so she doesn’t completely freak out, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve agreed, standing against the wall so he wouldn’t be seen when Tony opened the door.

Tony took a shaky breath and knocked before pushing the door open. He gave a small smile as Peggy turned to look at him. “Hey, Aunt Peg,” he started gently.

The woman’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Howard,” she started. “It’s good to see you.”

Tony tried to hide his annoyance as he moved closer. “No,” he reminded her softly. “It’s Tony. Remember?”

“Oh, yes,” she said with a small smile. “I apologize. You look so much like him.” She shifted in her bed and Tony moved to help her sit up. “You were on the news.”

“Yeah?” he asked, acting surprised. He glanced towards the door, wondering if she had seen Steve too or if had been an interview clip. Either way, she might not fully remember.

“Yes,” she said, lifting a hand up and placing it on his chest where a faint blue light was visible through his shirt. “It was you.”

Tony smiled and put his hand on hers, gently lowering it to her bed. “I brought someone with me that wants to see you,” he told her, speaking a little louder to make sure Steve heard him outside the door. “Is that alright, Aunt Peg?”

Peggy’s eyes flashed with confusion, but she nodded in reply. He closed his eyes and stepped back. “Capsicle?”

Steve stepped in, his hands clasped in front of him as he smiled at Peggy. He looked uncertain at first as Peggy searched his face, trying to recognize him. “Hey, Peggy,” he said quietly. “How’s my best girl?”

Tony could see the moment that Peggy recognizes Steve, and that’s when he decided to step out, leaning back against the wall and trying to collect himself. Part of him said that he should leave. That Steve would be done with him now that he had gotten what he wanted. He would be disappointed if he waited behind. But he stayed anyway, trying his best to not eavesdrop on the conversation that was happening inside. His phone dinged with a message from Pepper asking how everything was going, and at the same moment he went to respond, Steve stepped out of the room, slowly closing the door behind him.

The man stood there for a moment with his forehead pressed against the door. His eyes were closed, Tony noticed, and he was frowning. “I don’t like seeing her like this,” he breathed.

“Yeah, me either,” Tony admitted, standing up straight and pocketing his phone for now. Hesitant, he brought a hand up and patted Steve’s shoulder. “But she’s happy.”

Steve nodded. “Who is he?” He asked after a moment. At first Tony was confused, but then he realized the other man must have saw the pictures in her room.

“His name was Agent Daniel Sousa,” he told him. “A P.O.W. One you saved. He was injured in the war and went on to work for the SSR. She always said he was the first one to treat her as an equal. I met him a few times. Good guy, really.”

Steve nodded slowly, straightening up before facing Tony. “Thank you,” he started. “For bringing me here.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it,” Tony replied, putting his hands in his pockets again. “I should get back to the tower. Ms. Potts has some evening plans, I believe.”

“Right, right,” Steve nodded again. “I should. . . Um, Ms. Romanoff and I were going to train later.” He put a hand over his forehead. “I completely forgot.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” he snorted, remembering his own experience sparring with the woman. “I guess I will see you the next time Fury gets in over his head.”

Tony turned and started towards the elevator before he heard Steve sigh. “Wait, Tony,” he started, causing him to look back. “What I said. . .”

“Is forgiven,” he finished for him, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. Like it hadn’t caused his thoughts to spiral every night since. “You’re not too bad, Old Man. You have a lot to learn, but you’re not too bad.”

He saw Steve roll his eyes, but he held a smile. He turned and continued towards the elevator. “Natasha’s single, by the way,” he called over his shoulder as he pushed the button.

“And there it is,” he heard Steve mutter. He smirked as the elevator dinged in front of him.

“I don’t need a congressional honor, I don’t need Agent Thompson’s approval, or the President’s. I know my value. Anyone else’s opinion doesn’t really matter.”

[tsuki-chibi]

Avengers Valentine’s Fic: Six Hands are Better than Two

Read it on AO3!

--------

When her cup of tea was ready, Pepper carried it over to the table and sat down. She took a careful, too-hot sip, then set her cup down and looked at the tablet sitting in front of her. This was it. The moment of truth. Despite of her nerves, her hands remained remarkably steady as she picked up the tablet and unlocked it. The first file opened seamlessly, and she scanned it with a critical eye.

She knew exactly what she was looking for. The biggest issue was finding it. The first few she dismissed out of hand due to various health problems. The fifth file showed a man with blond hair; she lingered over that one for a minute before flicking past, knowing that she would prefer someone with darker hair. The sixth was passed over for the same reason. Then she landed on the seventh, showing a striking man with dark brown hair, blue eyes, and a broad smile with straight, white teeth.

“Not him. Too much like a movie star.”

Pepper shrieked and jumped about a foot in the air. “Tony! What the hell?!”

Tony laughed as he sat down beside her, close enough to steal the tablet but out of range of any punches. “I asked JARVIS to tell me when you started looking at the profiles,” he said smugly. “I wanted to see too.”

“JARVIS, you traitor,” Pepper muttered without any heat.

“My apologies, Ms. Potts, but Sir was most persuasive.”

Knowing what that meant, Pepper shook her head. “Tony, you have got to stop threatening to sell them to MIT,” she said, exasperated. “One of these days JARVIS is going to take you seriously and have himself voluntarily moved, and then where will you be?”

“J loves me too much for that,” Tony said dismissively, continuing to flick through. “Is this really all you have to choose from? Slim pickings.”

Pepper sighed and rested her cheek on her hand. “Well, fewer men are donating sperm now,” she said frankly. “People are nervous about having biological children showing up on their doorstep in twenty years.” She could appreciate that fear, but it made this process no less frustrating.

When she had first decided that she wanted a baby, Pepper had thought long and hard about her choices. As an aromantic woman, she had absolutely zero interest in a relationship. She liked sex – was rather good at sex, actually – but that was about the extent of it. And no one night stand or frequent booty call was going to agree to have a baby with her without bringing feelings into the mix. Eventually they’d want more: they’d want a relationship, the whole 2.5 kids and white picket fence, and the thought made her skin crawl.

No romance. No relationships. Just a kid. That was harder to get than she had anticipated. She had done quite a bit of research into adoption, but every place she had reached out to had unapologetically informed her that they were reluctant to adopt a child to a single woman. She probably could’ve paved the way by throwing money at the situation, but she was loathe to do that when she’d already be facing a ton of media scrutiny as it was.

There was also surrogacy as an option, but Pepper was more than willing to carry the baby herself. It was Rhodey who had suggested that she go to a donation clinic. Pepper hadn’t seen any harm in looking to see what was available; she wasn’t committing herself just by looking. But she hadn’t anticipated how lackluster it would be. Did she really want to choose the father of her child like she’d pick out a pair of shoes?

Well, no. Of course she didn’t. But she was running out of options – and time. She was turning thirty-five after this year, so she was approaching the threshold where pregnancies were a higher risk. She was already aware she was probably only going to do this once, so she had to make it count. This was the best resort. She held a hand out for the tablet back, but Tony shook his head.

“Seriously, Pep, you don’t have to go with one of these losers,” he said.

“Then how else am I supposed to make it happen? I am not interested in a relationship,” Pepper said, a bit more forcefully than was necessary considering who she was talking to, but she was so damn sick of having to repeat herself. People thought there was something wrong with a woman who didn’t want a relationship. There was a reason she and Tony had covered for each other for as long as they did.

“I know you’re not,” Tony said, far more kindly than she deserved, and Pepper’s shoulders slumped.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to bite your head off,” she said. Out of everyone, Tony knew exactly what it was like to fall short of people’s expectations. He had cultivated a reputation as a slut early on to keep people from figuring out that the infamous Tony Stark had no interest in sex: he would bring drunk women home with him and then put them to bed. Anyone who remembered going to bed alone never wanted to admit that Tony hadn’t slept with them, so they’d make up stories. And she was pretty sure the sex tapes had been faked.

After Afghanistan, when Tony could no longer bear the idea of bringing strangers home, he and Pepper had officially become a couple to give them both some relief. Unofficially Pepper had cultivated a few discreet fuck buddies, while Tony had been content to remain alone. Their agreement had worked very well to keep them both from being bothered by the media, or worse hunted by prospective partners, until Tony met Dr. Stephen Strange.

Pepper had seen the writing on the wall from the moment they returned home from the fight on Titan, having been victorious. Stephen looked at Tony like Tony was something precious, and Tony’s eyes lit up whenever Stephen walked into a room. Naturally, the two of them had awkwardly danced around each other for a few months before Pepper got impatient and forced them to talk it out.

“That’s okay. I get it. Hell, no one gets it better than me,” Tony said. He set the tablet down and looked at her seriously. “What if I offered to do it?”

Her eyebrows jumped. “You’re gonna have sex with me. You.”

“Eww, no,” Tony said, making a face. “But I’d happily donate some of my sperm to the cause. Stephen says that the whole process is way more advanced than it used to be, but that there’s plenty of room for improvement… maybe he and I will take a look at it and see if we can’t figure something out.”

“If anyone could do it, it would be you too,” Pepper said, still reeling from the offer. “You… you’d seriously want a baby?”

“I’ve been thinking about it. I know you and I didn’t work out, but I still think any kid of ours would be awesome.” Tony gave a small smile that quickly faded as he added, “I mean, I understand if you don’t want to. I’ll probably end up being a shitty dad –”

“Tony, no. That’s not it. Anyone who sees you with Peter knows you’re a wonderful dad,” Pepper said immediately.

“It’s not really the same,” Tony mumbled, looking embarrassed.

“Yes, it is and you know it. He literally calls you and Stephen ‘dad’,” Pepper pointed out.

“But we didn’t raise him,” Tony said. He shook his head. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know that the offer is there if you’re interested.”

Pepper hummed softly. “What did Stephen say?”

“He’s okay with it. You can talk to him about it if you want to, which you probably should.”

“He’s ready to be a parent?” Pepper asked. “Or are you just looking to make a donation and that’s all?”

“No, we want to be parents with you. Midnight feedings and all. You could move into a room on our floor, and we can set the baby up in the room between us and you. That way, we can help equally. And you’d still be able to go back to your floor when you needed a break,” Tony explained, sounding adorably eager.

“You’re really serious about this,” Pepper said, amazed. At one time, Tony hadn’t been sure that he wanted to be a father at all. That was all Howard Stark’s influence as far as Pepper was concerned. She knew that Tony would be a great dad, but Tony was petrified that he was going to turn out like his father. Having Peter around had done wonders for Tony’s confidence in that regard.

“I am… but only if you’re okay with it. I get that it could be awkward or uncomfortable,” Tony said. “I mean… Stephen and I would still be Avengers and everything.” He looked up uncertainly.

“Let me think about it,” Pepper said slowly. “Is that okay?”

“Sure. Take all the time you need.” He stood up, passed her the tablet, and ambled causally out of the room. Only someone who knew him well, like Pepper did, could recognize how tense he was as he went. He really, really wanted this, she realized.

“JARVIS, have Tony and Stephen really talked about this?” Pepper asked.

“Yes, Ms. Potts. In great detail,” JARVIS replied. “Dr. Strange has just arrived home. Would you like to speak with him?”

“Please,” Pepper said. She believed Tony when he said that Stephen was okay with this, but she wanted to be sure before she even started considering this. She didn’t want a baby to be the thing that came between Tony and the only person he’d ever seriously fallen in love with.

It was only a few minutes before Stephen joined her in the kitchen. He was wearing his uniform, minus the Cloak, and looked tired. Pepper waved him to the table and got up to make herself another cup of tea. She also poured one for Stephen. Unlike Tony, who might as well have had coffee in his veins considering how much of the stuff he drank, Stephen preferred tea. When she turned around, Stephen had picked up the tablet and was flipping through the profiles. Pepper rolled her eyes.

“See anyone interesting?” she asked, sitting again.

“I see some people who may have lied on their applications,” Stephen said critically, stopping at one profile and frowning down at it. “Besides, I believe the more important question is whether you’ve seen anyone interesting.”

“I didn’t get very far before Tony interrupted me,” she admitted. “He had a proposition.”

Stephen didn’t look surprised. “He mentioned he was planning to bring it up today. What did you think?”

“I’m not opposed to the idea,” Pepper said carefully. In truth, it was the best option she’d heard yet. “But I wanted to see what you thought. This isn’t just between me and Tony. I know Tony; he’ll want to be there 100%. And that effectively makes you a father too.”

“It does,” Stephen agreed, his blank expression giving nothing away.

“So… are you okay with that?” Pepper said. “Is that something you want? If it’s not, now is the time to say it.”

“I never imagined I would have a child,” Stephen told her. His hands shook as he lifted his cup. “Particularly after the accident. I lost all interest in sex after that, and a couple of the medications that I’m on would make it difficult for me to get someone pregnant.”

Pepper nodded, having already known this. Tony had told her in confidence after she professed worry over how the two of them would get on, what with Tony’s complete lack of interest in sex. Stephen wasn’t asexual, or at least he didn’t claim the label for himself, but based on what Tony said he was pretty adamant about never wanting to have sex. Luckily, that suited Tony perfectly fine.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m not intrigued by the idea. I like having Peter around. I like seeing the joy that Peter’s presence brings to both Tony and myself. I would very much enjoy raising a child. We’ve talked about adoption, but then when you started looking into donations, Tony suggested this could be a convenient solution for all of us.” Stephen hesitated briefly. “My one concern is that I’m not sure how much help I would be at first. My hands…” He trailed off, grimacing.

“It’s fine,” Pepper said gently. “Tony and I will be there. Hell, there are plenty of people in the tower to help. And trust me, there is still plenty you could do.”

“So you’re considering it?” he asked.

“Well… yes, I am. Some people might think it’s crazy… my mom sure will. But I really want a baby, and I like the idea of my child being a part of someone I know and love,” she said. “Even better if it’s Tony, because I know him so well. Plus, Tony brings you to the table as well. The idea of three parents instead of being a single mom sweetens the pot significantly.” She smiled to show that she was teasing, even though she was partially serious.

Stephen smiled too. “Give it some thought. You don’t need to decide right away.” He sat back, rubbing his neck. “JARVIS, where is Tony?”

“Sir is in the workshop.”

Pepper and Stephen exchanged exasperated looks, and then Stephen stood up. “I better go get him out of there, or he’ll pull another all-nighter.”

“Please do,” Pepper said, standing up herself. She picked up her tablet as Stephen left, and did a quick pass through all of the profiles. Some of them sounded impressive, but… she cast a thoughtful look at the door and hummed under her breath as she washed her cup out and set it in the dishwasher.

She did a lot of thinking over the next couple of days. She talked to Rhodey, who was very much in support of the idea, and she talked to her mother, who was very much not. And she also spent some time looking seriously at the files that the agency had given her, trying to decide who she might pick if she decided not to take Tony up on his offer. The problem was, Stephen’s skepticism had made her nervous. After all, she was trusting that complete strangers were who they said they were, and Pepper had been burned that way before in far less high-stakes situations.

There was always the option of asking JARVIS to run background checks, but honestly Pepper wasn’t sure she wanted JARVIS to bother wasting the processing power. Not when, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she had never wanted to be a single mother. It was just the only avenue that she felt was open to her, and she wanted a baby badly enough to accept the cons.

But why do so when she didn’t have to?

It was late at night when Pepper crawled out of bed and padded, bare foot, to the elevator. JARVIS took her down to the common room floor, where she knew that some of the Avengers had been having a late night watching movies. As expected, everyone else was gone and Stephen and Tony were alone in the room, cuddled up on the couch: the two of them had a bad habit of falling asleep there and then regretting it the next day.

Pepper paused for a moment in the doorway, staring at the two of them with a smile. Stephen was laying on the couch itself on his back, bare feet stick out from beneath the blanket. Tony was laying half on top of him and half on the couch, mostly buried beneath the blanket. They made for an adorable sight, one that made her heart swell with happiness on Tony’s behalf.

This was all that Tony had ever wanted. This, right here. Or so she had thought. But maybe there was something else that Tony wanted too, which Pepper had never considered before. Being asexual and not wanting to have sex meant that there was a very obvious obstacle in the way of Tony having kids, but even more than that Tony had to be extremely careful about who he had a child with. Way too many people would take total advantage of him if it meant getting their greedy hands into the Stark fortune.

She didn’t need to take advantage; Tony would gladly hand her his entire fortune without blinking an eye. Hell, in a way he already had by making Pepper the CEO of Stark Industries. Technically, if she had been so inclined, Pepper could’ve overthrown Tony and forced him out of his own company. Thankfully for Tony, she had absolutely no intention of doing that. S.I. would die without Tony’s genius guiding the way, which was something that men like Obadiah Stane were too stupid to realize.

She padded over to the couch and sat down on Tony’s side. Stephen awoke first, blinking owlishly. “Something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” Pepper said. She patted Tony’s knee.

“Huh – wha?” Tony was slower to stir. “Pep?”

“I wanted to see if your offer was still open,” Pepper said.

Tony snapped to immediately. “Of course it is!”

“Good. Because I think I want to take you up on it,” she said.

“Seriously?” Tony said.

“Seriously.”

“Oh my god,” Stephen said. “You’re going to have a baby.”

Pepper wasn’t sure who he was talking to, but she shook her head. “No. We’re” she gestured between the three of them “are having a baby.”

The resulting brilliant smiles that lit up both Tony’s and Stephen’s face made her feel warm from head to toe, and she knew immediately that she’d made the right decision. She beamed as Tony and Stephen kissed with joy, and then Tony pushed himself up and threw his arms around her. Pepper hugged him back happily, returning Stephen’s smile over Tony’s shoulder.

They were really gonna do this, and she knew that three of them would do it right.

[ceealaina]

Title: Thinkin' Nothing's Wrong Collaborator Name: ceealaina Card Number: 3088 Link: AO3 Square Filled: T2 - You Can't Trademark That Ship: IronBros Rating: Teen Major Tags: Meet Cute, Fluff and Angst, MIT Era, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting Summary: Jim Rhodes finally gets to meet his MIT roommate.

... As first meetings go, he's had better. Word Count: 1424

(Written for the prompts Roommate, Home, “Are you kidding me?” for @rhodeyappreciationweek​ and for the @tonystarkbingo​)

Jim Rhodes had arrived at MIT move-in day early, checking in as soon as he was able, and through all the chaos of moving in, there had been no sign of his new roommate. He’d almost begun to wonder if maybe there’d been a mix-up and he didn’t have a roommate after all. 

He’d stopped worrying about it when it was time to see his family off, distracted by the tears, and the reiterations of just how proud they were of him, and the reminders to be good and remember that he was representing his family, and reassuring them that he’d call regularly and that he was going to be just fine here. He hadn’t even given his new roommate a second thought until he was heading back to his room and heard a noise inside just as he was about to stick his lock in the key. 

“Right,” he said, gearing himself up to meet whoever was inside. 

It wasn’t that he was nervous, exactly, but he was going to be stuck with this person for the next year. First impressions were probably going to count for a lot. And okay, maybe he was a little nervous that the guy on the other side of the door was going to be some kind of lunatic, and his family had already left without him.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door, eyes immediately tracking out the form of his roommate. He was standing up on the bare mattress of the bed that Jim hadn’t claimed, hanging an enormous poster of Richard Feynman on the wall, but at the sound of the door he turned to face him. There was a hopeful, eager little smile on his face, just a little bit of nerves filtering through, and he opened his mouth to say something -- probably hello, like a normal person -- but Jim had to open his own big mouth first. “Are you kidding me?” he burst out, because, well, there was no way around it. His roommate looked about twelve. 

For a long moment the words hung in the air, loud in the silence of the room, and instantly Jim wished he could take them back. That hopeful smile faded just like that, and for a moment his new roommate looked so sad that Jim felt like the biggest dick on the planet. 

“Shit man,” Jim rambled all in a rush as the kid turned back to the wall, busying himself with getting his poster straight. “I’m sorry. It’s just been a long day. My mouth works faster than my brain sometimes. I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“No, it’s okay.” He glanced over his shoulder at Jim again, and there was another smile but this one was tight and forced, doing a terrible job of hiding how hurt he really felt. “I get it. Nobody wants a kid as their roommate, when they’re trying to have fun and do the whole college thing. I figured this would happen. I wouldn’t want me for a roommate either, but you know... My dad says if I come home before I’ve got my degree I’m on my own. I gotta legacy to live up to, so you’re kinda stuck with me for now. Sorry.” 

He said it so casually, like that was a totally normal thing for a father to say to a child, and Jim felt his stomach plummet. He felt like even more of a dick as he realized that there was no sign of the father in question, or any other family at all. All his stuff was lumped together in a sad little pile in the corner, being unpacked piece by piece, like they’d just dumped him there and taken off. He thought of his own family, driving him crazy as they ‘helped’ him unpack every single thing that he’d brought along, and felt a brief jolt of homesickness go through him -- along with a wave of overprotectiveness, and the urge to hug this kid and then punch his dad. 

“Hey, can we start over?” Jim asked. “Seriously. I was an asshole, no two ways about it. Please don’t let that ruin your opinion of me. We’re gonna have a great year, I know it. Please?” 

His roommate turned around fully, rolling his eyes a little, but his smile was soft and pleased again. “Alright, fine,” he said, with irritated pout that Jim wasn’t buying at all.

“Great!” Jim positively beamed at him and then held out his hand. “My name is Jim Rhodes, I’m from South Philly and I’m here on an ROTC scholarship. And before you start making Navy jokes,” he added, because his roommate looked the type -- and judging by the slightly guilty smile he got, Jim hadn’t been wrong. “I’m Air Force all the way, baby. Gonna be a pilot.” 

“I’d like to learn to fly,” the kid offered, taking Jim’s hand and surprising him with the force of his handshake. “I’m Tony. Stark.” 

Jim bit back a curse. He’d heard the Stark heir was going to MIT this year, but he’d never in a million years guessed that he’d be his roommate. Tony’s comments about his family legacy suddenly made a lot more sense. But then he thought of the nervous edge to Tony’s smile, his comments about not being able to go home without a degree. The way his family had just left him here, alone. For a brief moment, he wondered why, with all that money they hadn’t at least hired movers, or staff, or whatever rich people used to help Tony move in, if they weren’t gonna do it themselves. But then, maybe they’d just wanted to put their appearances in without having something to stay for, or sign off on, like their own kid was just another company asset, something that made them look good, but they didn’t want to be bothered with. 

Tony was looking just a little resigned now, like he was expecting things to change now that Jim knew who he really was, and Jim refused to let his smile falter. “Anyone ever call you Tones?” he asked instead of the multitude of other things that came to mind, pretending there was nothing at all special about his name. 

Judging by the wry smile Tony gave him, he hadn’t been entirely successful, but Tony just played along, looking more and more pleased. “No? That’s like asking if anyone ever called you Rhodey.”

“Oh, I like it!” Jim declared. “Swapping the ends of our names. Tones and Rhodey instead of Rhodes and Tony. It’ll be like… Secret code nicknames.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “I’m fifteen, not five. I’m not an actual baby, I promise.” 

Jim just shrugged. “Whatever you say, Tones. But I like ‘em, and I’m keeping ‘em. We could trademark them!” 

Tony snorted, but he was beaming now, eyes sparkling. “You can’t trademark that! They’re nicknames.”

“Pretty sure you’re wrong about that,” Rhodey insisted, like he had any idea what he was talking about. “You can totally trademark a name.”

“Legally, sure.” Tony acknowledged. “But it’s a fucking stupid thing to trademark.”

“Is it though? I happen to think it’s very smart. This way nobody can make money off our friendship. Like with licensing, you know?” He gave Tony a wink. “You deserve something capitalism can never touch.” 

“Friendship?” Tony repeated, and he was clearly going for dry, but Rhodey didn’t miss the very slight catch in his voice, the way he had looked almost startled at the word. “You met me five minutes ago.” 

Rhodey resisted the urge to wrap him in a tight hug, giving him an imperious shrug instead. “When you know, you know,” he informed him loftily, before gesturing to Tony’s poster. “That Richard Feynman?” 

“Oh.” Tony made a frankly adorable noise that could almost be classified as a giggle before he cleared his throat, cheeks flushing a little. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.” 

Rhodey tilted his head a little. “Am I missing something here? Is it some physics major joke that I’m not getting?” 

“Oh no, it’s not that… I just figure when people ask, I can tell them it’s Dick Fine-Man.” 

Rhodey couldn’t have stopped his laughter if he tried, noting as he did how Tony looked even more pleased. Still chuckling to himself, he moved over to the pile of Tony’s stuff, grabbing his sheets and starting to make the bed without bothering to ask if he wanted the help. 

“Tones?”

“Yes, Rhodey?” 

“You and I are gonna get along just fine.”

@rhodeyappreciationweek @tonystarkbingo

[chonkychornes]

Open Arms Part 5

Synopsis: You come back broken from a mission, and the one person who could barely put himself back together is one trying to help you.

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Language. Angst. And here’s the smut I’ve been promising. 5 of ? My first reader insert fic, so please be kind, and if you like it, please reblog it? 

Also, this is really for @quant-um-fizzx​ I couldn’t/wouldn’t have done any of this without her help or guidance.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Movie night has very few rules; anyone and everyone in the compound was invited. Admission was a contribution towards food, either chip in for takeout or bring something to share. 

That had been eye-opening.

Natasha is especially adept at dips; and not just salsa or ripping open a packet of onion soup powder and dumping it into a tub of sour cream. This girl will customize guacamole to your spice and chunk preference.

She’ll make vats of spinach and artichoke dip without breaking a sweat. And her BLT dip? You don’t want to know what is in it, because you’re certain that it would require an extra two hours in the gym and turning down the personal batch she’ll make just for you to horde in your fridge. 

Then there’s Steve and Barnes: The witless wonders in the kitchen. Although Steve can make a mean soup and he knows just how essential a crockpot is. And Barnes is getting better since he’s instituted dinners with you, where you’ve been teaching him how to cook. 

Sam insists that the only thing he can properly make is breakfast and a Thanksgiving turkey, so basically you’re just counting down the days for him to show up or shut up. 

Banner is the complete dark horse. You like baking; it’s relaxing and you get to make pretty and delicious things. You just don’t have the patience for the fancy stuff. 

Bruce does. 

He makes macarons, pavlovas, and pies with the most intricate and decorative crusts you’ve ever seen outside of a bakery. Two weeks ago he made chocolate souffle and you got so excited that you jumped into his arms and squeezed him tightly. 

The final rule of movie night is that if someone picks the first movie in a franchise, you have to watch all the movies before moving on to something else. Apparently, according to Tony Stark, if you pick The Hobbit … you’re not only watching those three movies, but also The Lord of the Rings trilogy ‘because they’re all set in the same universe and this is my place’.

Tonight marks the halfway point through a franchise and you thank your lucky stars that this one only has five movies in it. You like this franchise, but frankly, Johnny Depp is getting a little old to play a rummed up pirate with a questionable moral compass.

After leaving Natasha in the gym and taking a quick shower you spend the rest of your afternoon making cupcakes. Five dozen to be exact. The clean up took longer than you’d planned, but you still managed to do all the things to yourself. After loading them all up in the massive cupcakes carriers and then into a large box, you exit your quarters only to be met with Barnes. 

You can feel the heat rise in your cheeks when his eyes go wide when he sees the load you’re trying to maneuver and he reaches out to take it from you. “I could’ve managed, but thanks.” 

He gives you a wry smile and glances into the box, “You made cupcakes? What kind are they?” 

Before you can answer him though, he’s put the box down, ripped the lid off the top carrier, grabbed a treat and somehow managed to take the baking paper off and shove the whole thing in his mouth in less than 10 seconds. 

You smirk because he’s going to get a toothache or maybe he’ll choke, but it’s also sort of cute. 

He could still choke though. 

“They’re salted caramel with vanilla buttercream swirled with a caramel drizzle and then topped with sea salt.” You look at him as he groans and you can feel it straight into your bones and various other places. He finally swallows and reaches for another when you reach out to stop him. 

“I made 60, so there’s plenty,” you say, and he has the good grace to look slightly ashamed.” You also have a little buttercream right-” You reach out with your thumb and wipe at the corner of his mouth. Instinctively, his tongue darts to the spot and for whatever reason - only you and your vagina understand - you put your thumb into your mouth. 

His eyes darken and you both stand there for a solid minute staring at the other, daring each other to make a move. When he steps over the box at your feet, your heart jumps. His hands find your hips and he grips you gently and pushes you against your door. You can feel the cool metal of his left hand versus the heat radiating from his right. 

“Tell me to stop,” James whispers, begging you, but you can’t form the words that are caught in your throat. He skims his nose along the column of your neck and up to your ear. He nibbles softly and you melt against him. He thrusts one of his knees between your thighs to help support you and runs his hands up and down your ribcage. 

As you whine softly and grind on his leg he mutters into your ear, “Dracu-ma (fuck me).”

You’ve heard him speak Romanian before. He mutters in the gym while lifting weights. When a glass slipped from his hands just last week when he was doing your dishes. You’re almost certain you heard him mumble disjointed sentences when you both dozed under that maple.

This is different.

And that’s when the world comes crashing down around you. 

If you were going to go down this path with him, it won’t start out in the hallway. 

It won’t be when you can’t even figure out what name you want to call him and just realized you had real-time feelings for him. 

It won’t be when you aren’t sure how to tell him you want him you lo- 

It won’t.

It’ won’t. 

You won’t.

Your body stiffens and he immediately drops his hands, “Did I read this wrong?” His striking blue eyes search yours and you see the concern, tinged with a little fear clouded over into resignation. “I get it,” he says and takes a deliberate step back, remembering to step over the box of cupcakes. 

“James, no.” You dig the heels of your hands into your eyes and contemplate screaming for an hour to release the frustration you’re feeling. “You didn’t read this wrong.” His eyes sharpen on you. “I just … I’m not sure how to tell you what I’m feeling.”

You find yourself in the same situation you were in mere moments before; you’re both staring at each other until he finally speaks. 

“Well, I hope you’re feeling up to movie night,” he says, and bends over to pick up the box and sends you a wink and smile when he straightens. “Steve says the TV is out in the media room and it’s just the three of us tonight, so we’ll see you at our place in a bit.”

He walks away and you slide down the door into a heap on the floor and just sit there for a solid ten minutes before you pull out your phone and send off a text to Steve to make sure he’s still in for his part of the plan (and to talk you down off the ledge you’ve built for yourself.) 

When you let yourself into Steve and James’ quarters thirty minutes later, the scene you find would be comical if you hadn’t had a part in orchestrating it.

Steve is sitting in his favorite cushy armchair with a look of despair and tiredness etched across his features. 

“Boys,” you acknowledge as you enter and notice that at least one of the cupcake carriers has been relieved of at least a dozen treats. 

“Hey, sweets.” James isn’t looking at you and you raise an eyebrow at his slightly dismissive tone and a new spin on a nickname. “Have you seen my copy of ‘At World’s End’?” 

You now realize why he’s on the floor and every movie that belongs to the two men is strewn about.

“I have no idea. How could you have lost it?” You lean against the arm of the couch and watch the show as James scoots around on his hands and knees searching. When you glance over at Steve he rolls his eyes and then stares pointedly at you. 

You clear your throat, “So, who ate all those cupcakes?” James freezes in his tracks, sits up on his haunches, and turns to look at you over his shoulder. 

“I only had that one.” He smirks just enough and then points a finger at Steve who is prepared and has a sheepish look on his face. 

“I can’t resist salted caramel!” He’s protesting and James is laughing at him. You eye him to tell him to take it down a notch or two. “If it makes you feel any better, my stomach is killing me now.” He groans lightly and sinks further into the chair. 

Perfect. 

“Poor baby, can’t handle his sweets.” You wink at him and he flips you off when James goes back to searching. “Hey, Bucky,” you say, and his head swivels slowly around to look at you. “I’ve got the box set. Come over and we’ll order food and leave this child to suffer the consequences of his choices.”

You grab some cupcakes and saunter out, knowing full well that he’ll follow you. 

You offered him movie night and food. 

You called him Bucky. 

And you have some unfinished business. 

Precisely six minutes later, after you somehow manage to put the DVD in and cue it up and light a fat jar candle you have on your coffee table, you’re still waiting for the Tin Man to appear. You assume it’s taking him so long because Steve made him clean up the mess he made, but you suspect that there are just piles of DVDs stacked haphazardly around the living room down the hall. 

When he finally knocks, you call out to tell him the door is open and your voice catches a little in your throat. You walk out of your kitchen as he walks in, holding up two take-out menus. 

“Your choice, I’m fine with whatever.” You don’t mean for the phrase to come out sounding like some double entendre, but it does a little bit. 

He plucks them both out of your hands and considers them seriously for a few moments. “This one,” he hands a menu back to you and walks you back into the kitchen until you hit the island with your ass and he cages you with his arms. “I’ll take two orders of the assorted dim sum, the house special lo mein, and do you like wonton soup, doll?”

You swallow hard. 

There is no way this should feel like foreplay, but it does. 

“I love it. Do you like salt and pepper wings?” he says, nodding, and you reach into your back pocket for your phone. “Then I’ll call it in.” 

When you bring the device to your ear, he backs away and wanders around your quarters.

After quietly finishing the order and telling the restaurant the instructions for when they arrive, you hang up and stare at him. The broad expanse of his back is hunched over as he’s crouched down and looking at some photographs on one of the lower bookshelves. 

He’s been in here, but you usually push him right out the door as quickly as possible after he’s washed the dishes after one of your dinners. 

He never lingers over coffee and conversation.  So, this is the first time he’s investigating your space. You’re not sure you like. 

“My family,” you say softly and he looks over his shoulder at you. “My parents and my older brother died when I was seventeen and my younger sister was only nine.” 

He fingers the edge of the frame before standing but doesn’t say anything. He’s looking at your diploma from Columbia and the few other photos you have when you see him still and his gaze land on a photo of you and Steve. 

You suddenly think that all of this, whatever it is, is a terrible idea. Granted, whatever was between you and Steve is in the past, but that doesn’t mean everyone sees it that way. 

“You look really happy here.” His voice is soft and gentle. You know what picture it is, but have the wherewithal to walk over and look at it with him. 

You were at one of Stark’s galas. It was black tie and the two of you had gone together because it seemed easiest. Both you and Steve were bored quickly, so you made up a drinking game where you took a shot every time a woman (or man) hit on Steve in front of you.

Steve did the same for all the men that hit on you but seeing as he couldn’t get drunk, you turned yourself into a shit show rather quickly. The resulting picture is somewhere between shot numbers seven and ten. 

“I was happy. I was also incredibly drunk, but we had fun that night.” You laugh lightly to yourself, “I tried to convince him to let me throw his shield.” 

“Did he?” He looks into your eyes and smiles, “Because I don’t think you could throw it stone-cold sober.” 

“He didn’t and I can’t.” You shrug and walk towards the couch. “C’mon, let’s start this before the food gets here.”

You press play on the DVD menu and the familiar refrain begins as you side-eye James to see what he’s doing. 

The couch isn’t a loveseat but it isn’t a sprawling sectional either. It’s three-seater and you’ve both made some unspoken agreement that the middle cushion is no man’s land. In fact, you’re pretty sure you haven’t sat this far away from someone while watching a movie on a couch since high school. 

Forty minutes into the movie, the food arrives and you pause to eat and you take the opportunity to steal a few dim sum and settle in a little closer and a little more open towards him. When you start up the movie again, you’ve got one knee up on the middle cushion, body angled towards him slightly, and one elbow propped up on the back of the couch and supporting your head.

He’s not making any moves and you wonder if when you told him to stop earlier, he took it to heart. So, you start doing little things that end getting you closer, inch by inch. You kick off your little house slippers. “You can take off your shoes if you want.” 

Then you reach almost across him to get a fortune cookie that’s sitting on the table in front of him, which gains you a few millimeters. You pretend to crack your back, and at this point, you’re basically straddling the space between your cushion and the middle one. 

At some point, your arm falls to the back of the couch as you react to the scene and when you realize that your hand is on James’ forearm, he’s moving a little bit closer to you. Where you feel shy, he seems sure. His eyes are dark and determined. 

“You could come closer,” you say softly and he shrugs. His eyes flicker back to the screen and then back to you. He’s watching you and only you. 

“I could, but I need you to tell me how to move along with this.” He flips your hand over and his fingertips dance over your palm. So you scoot closer. You know he’s warm and suddenly, your skin has broken out in goosebumps. 

“I feel like there’s been a shift in the last couple of months, between us,” he says low, his voice like a hot coffee with a generous shot of whiskey, and the sound of it sends a bolt of electricity straight to your center. “It feels like there’s been a lot of starts and stops too.”

“I’d have to agree.” You look up at him and find his blue eyes dark with intensity. You rotate your wrist and mirror his actions and run your fingers along his palm and wrist. “There’s something more here, between us, I mean.”

“Of course there is. It’s why I spend all my free time with you.” He slides a little closer and his warm, rough fingers tickle that sensitive skin inside your elbow. “I just need to know what you want. I need you to spell it out for me.”

That’s when you realize that all of this has been foreplay, but where you thought he would take the lead again, he handed it directly to you. 

He wants you to spell it out for him. But he isn’t stupid, he’s playing you like a fiddle. You might have all the power tonight, which you enjoy, but he’s been orchestrating the entire thing. 

What you want is the singular focus in your mind right now, but there’s more buried underneath.

“I … want you.” He moves a little closer and smiles warmly, lips over teeth, but remains silent. 

“I need you… James.” His eyes darken slightly and he reaches for you with that metal appendage and pulls you to him this time and drapes your legs over his thighs. His hand is resting on your knee and you are acutely aware of his proximity.

“I just truly realized it today, but I’ve been feeling something for weeks now.” He shifts you both closer and his hand moves to your thigh. You can feel the muscles jumping, trembling, quivering, waiting for more. 

“I was annoyed because you were everywhere, always.” You huff as he laughs and cocks his head to the side and wets his lips with a quick dart of his tongue. “But I breathe easier when you’re around.” 

He pulls you closer and wraps an arm around your shoulders and you can feel yourself melt into his embrace. 

“It’s like,” you pause as his hand moves to curl around your neck to lightly massage the muscles there. “It’s like I hadn’t realized that I’ve been lost in the desert … that I need water.” 

That’s when he leans in a breadth away, you can see how clear and dark blue his eyes are. The short stubble that you pray will rub you raw in places people can see and places they can’t. 

“Dehydration is a bitch,” he points out and nudges his nose against yours only to pull back and look at you again. 

“I need the water to save me … I need it to be real. ” This time you move closer to him, but there’s barely any room left between you two. 

“This is real. I’m real,” he grips your hand and places it over his heart. “You can take what you need and give what you can. But I’m here now. This isn’t some mirage.”

 It’s now or never because if you can’t make this happen now, you’ll give up or spontaneously combust. 

Or leave and just never come back. 

“I’d give everything to have all of you, Bucky.” There’s a split second hesitation and then his mouth descends upon yours and it’s like he’s giving you the kiss of life because surely you weren’t truly living before this. 

His tongue sweeps across your lips begging for entrance and when you open for him he devours you and you groan in delight and surprise. You can admit now that you had dreamed of this and naturally it’s better than you imagined. 

He’s warm and firm, spicy from dinner and something that you suspect is strictly just him. The hand on your thigh has moved up your ribcage and is dancing up and down when you squeak into his mouth. 

When he pulls away, you give him an impish grin. “I’m a little ticklish.” He smiles and proceeds to dig his fingers into your side until you’re laughing and screaming in delight. 

“Is that your real laugh? I’ve never heard it before,” he says, grinning, and dips in for nips at your lips, cheeks, chin. “I like it.” 

When you smile it makes your cheeks hurt. You realize that ever since you came back, you’ve been holding back those smiles, not giving them your all -  except for this one. It’s full tilt and explosive and maybe a little manic, so your lips find his earlobe and when he shudders under your ministrations you feel it in your core.

He shifts you so you’re straddling his thighs and he’s so thick you can feel the fabric of your jeans straining against the stretch. There are no pretenses anymore. His hands are under your shirt, his thumbs flick over your hardened nipples. You’re trying desperately to garner any friction between the two of you, but the denim you both wear makes it difficult. 

You focus on his lips, his tongue, his hands, on the way he makes you feel; his touch is soft but fevered enough that you know he wants you. He’s tempering his movements for some reason. Maybe he’s worried you’ll be scared or intimidated.

In one swift motion, you pull off your shirt and unclasp your bra. You need his hands on your skin to feel the contrast between cool and warm, the polished and the rough. 

You want his lips on you and just as you look down at him he growls lowly in his throat and attacks. He grasps you by the back of the head crashes your mouth to his, teeth clanking and noses bumping. Chapped lips meeting, caressing. His stubble marking your chin and cheeks.  Tongues sliding wet and hot over each other, trying to claim every bit of real estate possible.  

Your hands are tangled in his hair and as you tug lightly he moans into your mouth and immediately kisses a trail down to your breasts. He licks and nips and sucks until you’re moaning and keening and grinding into him. 

“I need you.” You speak at the same time and the look shared between you two is soft and reverent. 

When he stands up from the couch with you wrapped around his hips, it’s not just sexy; it makes you feel safe and secure in a way you’ve never felt. When he kicks open the bedroom door, it’s with great satisfaction that the room is clean and orderly. 

He drops you softly on the bed and all but rips his long sleeve shirt from his torso while you lay there, propped up on your elbows just watching. It isn’t until he reaches for his belt that you spring into action.  

When you reach out with slightly trembling hands, he stills and looks at you questioningly. You offer him a smile because while you are nervous, it’s the good kind. 

You slide the leather through the buckle and undo the button fly and slide the jeans down to reveal nothing between the rough cotton and the already ready and willing member inside. You look up at him with a cocked eyebrow. 

“What? I don’t even own underwear.” 

You smirk and let him step out before running your hands up and down his bare thighs. His legs are spread shoulders width apart and he looks down at you. He’s breathing heavily and you understand the feeling. When your hands find him, he sucks in a breath and the muscles in his stomach clench. 

You aren’t shy; this is one of your favorite things to do. You delicately lick the head to spread his own moisture and mix it on your tongue. He gasps and his hands grip your shoulders as your mouth sinks down onto him. 

You find and set a pace that works using tongue and a little bit of teeth. Your mouth sucking, slurping, and rolling his balls in one hand. When you bottom out and he hits the back of your throat with little resistance from you, he groans from low in his gut and you can feel it reverberate in his body. 

The hands that had been gripping your shoulders reach under and hoist you up and off of him and he flings you back into the middle of the bed. 

On all fours, he stalks towards you, like a hunter after his prey. 

He reaches for your jeans and rips them off. You’re shocked. You figured something like that might hurt, but even though every nerve ending is firing, you felt nothing. 

“Those are pretty,” he murmurs and you glance down at the lace panties you’re wearing. You shrug. 

“I have plenty more.”

He grins and rips those from your body too. 

You’re both exposed to each other, naked and wanting. The air already lingers with the smell of arousal.

He doesn’t waste any time and crawls between your thighs and spreads your legs before him and sighs contentedly. 

“I’ve heard plenty of guys say a pussy is a beautiful thing, but I never got it ‘til now, sweets.” You’re laughing at the absurdity of his remark as he takes a long swipe, top to bottom and the laughter dies on your lips. 

Immediately your hands are fisted in the sheets, in his hair, clawing at his shoulders and back. His languid movements might be the death of you. 

Not a bad way to go, all in all. 

He’s humming against your nub when he inserts two cold fingers and the contrast between your hot center and his cold metal fingers makes you cum instantly.

You cry out and buck up and see him grin as his eyes meet yours but he won’t remove his mouth or his fingers from you. As you come back down, he adds a third finger and the second climax builds instantly again. 

You can’t catch your breath. 

He has you anchored to the bed with one arm wrapped around a leg and the other arm bringing you to a third, albeit slower orgasm. 

When you come down from that, you can only see stars and the curtain of his hair as he leans over you. 

“You hangin’ in there, sweets?” He leans in to kiss you and you can feel the stickiness in his stubble and on his tongue. 

You nod and feel the immense relief of knowing that he wants to make sure you’re still with him. 

And you are.

 It’s all been leading up to this, you finally realize it. Circling around each other, setting it all up. He’s ingrained himself in your life and now you’ve let him into your personal space. 

You’re both caressing each other waiting for your heart to slow, waiting for just the right moment. 

Because while it isn’t a game at all, sex and all that goes along with it never should be, this has been. It’s not cat and mouse though, it’s more like chess. Strategically testing the waters with each other over the last couple of months, delving in and learning new things. 

He’s like Bobby fucking Fischer as he settles his body between your legs and leans over you.

He’s set his queen right where he wants her. 

As he lines up his head with your entrance, gathering the wetness that lingers there and teasing you all the while. He’s taking too long, far too long. So, you wrap your legs around his hips and pull him to you and when he slides in, you never felt more perfect and full. 

You give a small laugh at the surprised expression on his face and he leans down to kiss you. 

“I want to be with you all night,” he breathes, as his lips drag across your collarbone and you clench around him. “We have all night, sweets.”

He pulls back and pumps back into you slowly, tortuously. You whine already, knowing full well that he can and will prolong this as much as possible. As he keeps up the arduous pace, your hands make trails up and down his biceps and back. Your fingers delicately trace the white and pink scars at his shoulder. 

His elbows cage your head, your legs still locked around his hips, but when you reach up and pepper gentle kisses to that left side. He slows even further. 

“You … you don’t have to …” His voice cracks but he hasn’t stilled his movements. 

“We have all night,” you parrot back to him. “I want my lips on every inch of you.” 

There’s a gleam in his eyes and by a trick of the light you think it might be tears, but it’s gone before you can question him.  He slides an arm under your back and begins to pick up his pace, pulling your hips to his to meet every thrust. 

The mingled sounds of skin on skin and your ragged breaths fill the quiet room until you shove gently at him and he pulls out of you and you move him to his back and you climb on. He twines his fingers with yours and supports your weight as you situate yourself and slide down. 

There’s a slight pain there as you adjust but he gives you a moment, softly kneading your breasts and smiling like a cat that caught the canary. 

As you begin to move he holds your hips softly, gently as you work him up and down, over and over. You have all night, there’s no need to rush. No need to move at a frantic pace. He reaches up and wraps his hands in your hair and pulls you down to catch your lips in a kiss. You’re still moving and the grinding sensation of your clit on his pelvic bone is speeding up this next orgasm. 

He bucks his hips up to meet yours and when the dam breaks you moan into his mouth while he latches onto a hardened nipple. 

You lay on top of him for a moment before he pulls you away and brushes the hair out of your face. You smile weakly at him. 

“I might need a little break,” you mutter as you try to stifle a yawn. “If we really do have all night.” 

He laughs and smacks you lightly on the ass and pulls you off of him and tucks you into his side. 

“We have all the time in the world, sweets.”

[cblgblog]

i have a prompt that i've been thinking about: morgan, around peter's age, finding out the not-so-great side of her father and coming to terms with it. how would you approach that?

Not what I thought I’d be talking about today, wasn’t sure I even had anything helpful to offer (that remains to be seen), but it turns out I do in fact have opinions here.

So first off, I say good call on making Morgan Peter’s age for this. Beloved figures like that—using JFK because he’s in the MCU, and I lack a better example—you don’t really get a fuller picture of them until they’re dead. Until they’ve been dead long enough that you can speak up about their flaws without getting attacked for pointing them out. There’s a very fairytale, this person is all good or all bad mentality when it comes to certain people. Tony would likely be a fairly untouchable figure for awhile after snapping his fingers, especially while people are trying to adjust to a post-EG world. Morgan being Peter’s age gives you about 10 years for people to get past seeing Tony as only the guy who snapped his fingers on Thanos.

Other stuff I might do? I have a headcanon that Tony left a whole lot of video/hologram messages of himself talking to Morgan, see Howard in IM 2 and “You are my greatest creation.” Not because he threw together a massive just in case package for Morgan before giving Steve t time GPS (though it’s him so that’s also possible, frankly), but because, Tony. He’s a hyperactive dude who’s very into what he’s into when he’s into it. So, Tony wakes up at four in the morning and decides he needs to tell something really important about circuit boards or dating or root beer floats or whatever it is. Meanwhile Pepper’s like honey, the baby’s four months old, she just went down, if you wake her again, I will murder you and raise her as a single parent, with widow points. So, what does a guy who really loves his kid and gets really obsessed with his current goals do? Records things for later.

It's a heavy riff on the messages Tony leaves in EG, and it’s my own self-indulgent way to make sure Morgan still has some piece of her father, okay?

So, Morgan Stark who’s grown up on those images her dad recorded for her, and on the stories of his more heroic exploits. Then she’s old enough to start hearing from other sources about the more questionable things he’s done. Yes, he made the snap that restored the universe, he went full-on hero and flew a nuke into space once, but there are other things too. Ultron, the Accords, etc. So, how does a daughter square that?

I don’t know, honestly, the details of that journey would be yours to figure out, but ultimately it probably comes down to the fact that—like a lot of historical figures who go down as heroes—Tony’s record is also littered with black marks, and it’s dishonest not to acknowledge both. My brain spits out the image of Morgan asking Pepper, Happy, Rhodey, whoever, if such and such thing is true, and why didn’t you tell me about it? And some corny as hell but not inaccurate line that he was Morgan’s hero, and that every child deserves to remember their dad like that.

I haven’t watched Far From Home in awhile, but I’d do a riff on Happy’s speech to Peter. The gist of it being that Tony was—on many occasions, a hero, and after his kidnapping in IM 1, he tried to be a better person than what he’d been before. He did a lot of great things, a lot of people looked up to him, credited him with saving their lives. He was also, as I think Happy said, a hot mess. He made incredibly bad choices at times, and other people paid for them. But make sure Morgan’s told that he loved her dearly, that she’s still allowed to love him, to enjoy any memories she may still have of him, and that whatever else he was, Tony loved her. Doesn’t absolve him of his mistakes, like some stans seem to think. Being a dad and loving your offspring doesn’t automatically make you a better person, or mean you didn’t cause major suffering along the way. Morgan, though, is entitled to love him as her father, and to have what memories she may have, especially given how few there probably are. Love the person, not the act, all that, and whatever else he was, Tony was good to Morgan, from what we know. The kid is allowed to keep that, especially since her dad isn’t around to answer for himself.

So…yeah. I have no idea if any of that was at all helpful, and as I said, the journey of how Morgan processes these things in her head is one I don’t have details of, and probably one she’ll be on for the rest of her life. But yeah, that’s what I got, hopefully it helped a little, apologies if it didn’t, good luck on your writing and good on you for wanting to do it.

[allofthefeelings]

Hi. I forgot that sad endings exist, and now, I'm scared stupid after your last BW movie post. She's dead already! I want something close to happy! (Oh god, I hope the fanfics come through 😭😭😭)

(Before I begin, I would also like you to know that, while this is over 4000 words long, I did cut a several-paragraphs-long digression comparing the BW movie to Beauty and the Beast: The Enchanted Christmas. You’re welcome.)

I know I’m once again outing myself as an optimist here, and I’m sure I’ll also end up getting smug asks in four months when much of my speculation is wrong, but what the hell. If I was on this tumblr to be right I would have made a LOT of different decisions.

So.

I really, truly don’t think we’re going to get a sad ending.

But the question is, how does it achieve a not-sad ending? Or, to completely re-frame and re-structure: for a character like Natasha, what exactly is a happy ending?

Buckle in, because this gets long.

I think we can all agree that, by definition, we’re starting the movie from a point of melancholy at best, just because we know that in 2023 Natasha will be dead. She doesn’t get to ride into the sunset in any way, shape, or form. Every other solo movie- even the ones with tragic endings, like Thor Ragnarok’s destruction of Asgard and a large portion of its people- have given characters a path forward and the odds that even if this won’t give them a happy ending, it gives them a way towards one. It ends with hope. There isn’t room for that here, for obvious reasons. But what there is room for- and this is, ironically, achievable because of one of the major flaws of IW- is the idea that she did achieve growth, and then had six years to live the life she wanted.

Or, not the life she WANTED, which probably would not have been one part on the run/five parts half of society obliterated by Thanos. Let’s say she had the chance to live a terrible life self-actualized.

IW’s complete and utter lack of meaningful characterization for 90% of the cast means that we don’t really have a sense of where Natasha was in that movie. That gives a lot of room to play with, to put Natasha at the end of the BW movie in a place that she wants to be in. In other words, they can retroactively argue that the reason Natasha isn’t given room to grow in IW is that she had achieved her growth in between CW and IW.

Which, look. Doylistically this is beyond bullshit. Doylistically this is actually offensive, and if they’re looking to retroactively placate us about how Natasha’s arc went, it really doesn’t work. I’m not talking about what was intended, or what was achieved; I don’t think this is either of those. I’m talking about what we can choose to read into it.

And, frankly, as a Natasha fan, that’s pretty much all we do anyway. I can argue (and clearly have argued) her arc for ages, but that’s all the work I’ve done, and you (collective, Natasha fans) have done- not the work the text has done.

None of this is remotely answering the question. But I think it’s necessary groundwork to begin to answer the question.

Because what the BW movie can give us is that growth arc that takes place in the negative spaces of canon.

Well, first of all, the BW movie gives us the fact that things happen at all in the negative spaces of canon. I know I’ve discussed this already, but it’s worth mentioning again: the way audiences are supposed to read texts is that everything pertinent happens on screen. Even supplemental texts that are considered canonical (cut scenes, novelizations, official tie-in comics, movie scripts) are deemed inherently less valuable because they aren’t on the screen. This movie affirms that important events are happening off-screen, to everyone- or at least everyone who isn’t front and center.

This is, again, infuriating, and I feel like when I say this I’m inadveretently contributing to justification. That is not my intention. Natasha’s growth should have been on screen and should have been seen as important. I hate that it’s reduced to a single movie after ten years and the character’s death. I don’t think this justifies it. AT THE SAME TIME, I think this opens space for us to look at lots of characters who haven’t gotten the screen time they deserved.

(Like, they may never give Rhodey the movie he deserves, but at least no one can tell us that if he did something worth seeing it would have been on screen. This movie’s existence is a rebuttal of that. This is a digression but one I’m gonna keep making until everyone starts casually referring to awesome shit Rhodey did off-screen because WHY THE FUCK NOT, YOU CAN’T PROVE IT DIDN’T HAPPEN, “IT DIDN’T HAPPEN ON SCREEN” IS NO LONGER PROOF OF ANYTHING EXCEPT THEY HAVEN’T DONE THE SET-IN-THE-PAST MOVIE YET. Y E T.)

But we also get the possibility of growth, and to analyze what growth means for Natasha’s character.

So here is an issue: I can tell you, with a frankly absurd amount of confidence, what I read Natasha’s arc as. I can lay it out from film to film, I can point to key growth moments, I can read a lot into every scrap that made it into the final cut and I can tell you exactly why, and I feel like if you dig into my history you’re going to find a lot of me citing specific scenes to make my point so I’m not going to go too in-depth on an already-long post that is getting exponentially longer. I think that Natasha’s key arc is in figuring out who she is and what she needs, and how to be a person rather than a reflection of what is asked of her. I think that the mirror imagery in the trailer and in the SDCC/D23 BW footage lends credence to this being a key theme of the movie.

But I have absolutely no idea if I’m right, because the MCU has never considered Natasha to be important enough to be the focus, and as a result I read her arc mostly through the ways she mirrors other characters’ stories, usually to show their strengths by comparison. I do my best to make arguments that are textually supported, but at the same time, it’s like describing the sun entirely from the way that its light reflects off the moon.

So I can say that for the BW movie to be satisfying, it needs to offer completion to her arc, which is then capped in IW/Endgame but would have reached its climax in the BW movie. But since I cannot confidently tell you what her arc has been so far, I can’t figure out exactly how that arc could be satisfactorily completed. Which means, after SEEING the movie, I will have to retroactively figure out how they saw her arc, and then figure out if this was a satisfactory way to end it.

But an argument done in hindsight is colored by what I’ve already seen, and that’s a cheat. So let’s start over.

Here is what we know:

Natasha was taken from her family very young (Endgame: didn’t know her father’s name). As a child, she was abused and manipulated by the Red Room (Agent Carter; Age of Ultron). She was trained to be a Black Widow, did terrible shit for them for a while, defected, became a mercenary, did terrible shit for the highest bidder (Avengers). Clint was sent to kill her but made a different call and brought her in to SHIELD (Avengers). Natasha quickly rose in the ranks and became one half of a STRIKE team watched over by Fury’s right-hand man, Coulson (Avengers). Natasha also became very close with Nick Fury, the head of SHIELD (IM2, Cap2). At some point in there she was shot by the Winter Soldier (Cap2). She was one of the people behind putting together the Avengers Initiative, identifying Tony Stark as not qualified (IM2), and recruited into the team herself (Avengers). She did not leave the Avengers teams for the next 11 years; she was on the first iteration (lasting through Age of Ultron), the second (Age of Ultron through Civil War), and then the Secret Avengers (which we can now assume starts post-BW through Infinity War) and Avengers 3.0 (five-year gap team), as well as the Quantum Realm Team-Up Team right up til she got yeeted off Vormir.

We’ll set Secret Avengers and Team 3.0 aside for the moment, as they’re things that will exist post-BW movie canon.

Natasha’s narrative role has often been to be so amazing that when she’s bested, we know the other person is really good. The best way for me to pull this together into a coherent throughline is that Natasha tends to be bested by people with passion and emotional stakes. When Natasha is just doing her job, but Pepper cares about Tony or the Dora Milaje care about T’Challa, she is outmatched. In Cap2, when Natasha cares deeply about SHIELD and who she’s loyal to, she is able to outmatch everyone she faces, but since she’s a secondary character and her act isn’t as highly visible on screen, her heroism isn’t as spotlighted.

(That said, make no mistake, WE WILL BE COMING BACK TO HER HEROIC MOVE IN THIS MOVIE.)

Her role has also been, as I mentioned earlier, to be a mirror to the white male heroes. She mirrors Tony in IM2, Clint in Avengers, Steve in Cap2, and Bruce in Ultron. I can make a strong argument, that I feel is supported by each text, that each of these mirrors is about moderation, and both the white man of choice and Natasha finding that the ideal is somewhere between both points: the space between how and why Tony and Natasha handle secrecy; between how Clint and Natasha handle guilt; between how Steve and Natasha handle trust; between how Bruce and Natasha handle self-hatred. That the writers and directors often disagree with my read of this does not, in any way, dissuade me from believing it, but it does mean that this may not be the arc we’re looking at in the movie.

By the arcs that I’ve traced, though, they have a fair amount of leeway to give a satisfying conclusion no matter what the plot is. By having other characters mirroring Natasha, she is centered in a way she never had been, and simply being the protagonist of her own story is part of Natasha’s journey we haven’t seen. We know that this is going to in some way revisit the Red Room, and that means that we’ll get to see a story where Natasha is passionate about and personally connected to what she’s fighting. We also know that whatever the story is, it will not be Natasha mediating someone else’s approach to the world, but Natasha’s approach to the world with someone else (I’m guessing Yelena?) mediating her worldview, in a way that gives Natasha growth but does not undercut her as someone who had so much to learn from the REAL hero.

All plot to the side, simply because Natasha is the protagonist, there is an element of satisfaction inherent, both textually and metatextually, because Natasha’s role of being sidelined is both within the text and within the media landscape a struggle she’s finally able to overcome. There is also a metatextual satisfaction just in cleaning up the bits and pieces of canon that we’ve gotten that were left hanging. For example, in her heroic climax in Winter Soldier, Natasha- who was so focused on being able to transform into whatever was necessary- released a fuck-ton of national security information on the internet, including her own history, that made her both immutable and knowable. (Do you ever think about how this means that people living within the MCU know more about Natasha’s background than we, the audience, does? Because I do, c o n s t a n t l y.) Natasha went from working undercover and in the shadows to being an Avenger and releasing not just her own and not just SHIELD’s but also the Red Room’s dirty laundry in public, and that has never had narrative consequences; this is a great opportunity to use that, closing a loop that most people probably forgot even existed.

Speaking of closure.

I think this movie HAD to be designed with that specifically in mind. I don’t think they necessarily expected the backlash they got from Natasha’s death (I’m going to be honest here; I didn’t expect it from anyone but Natasha fans), but at least they had to know that people who had been promised Natasha would get her due in canon would be frustrated and want some sign that the complexity of the character that had been talked up for a decade was actually part of the story they put on film. Marvel wants to placate fans, yes, but they wouldn’t waste millions upon millions of dollars on a movie to get us to shut up; their job is to bring in money, and it’s not like they haven’t gotten ten years’ worth from us. They’re also savvy enough to know that for a character who’s no longer alive in canon, they need to do things that make their story relevant even without them having future appearances- and I think we’ll see that in Yelena and Taskmaster- but also to make this story have stakes.

Yeah, we never spend a Marvel movie saying “Oh geez, what if the hero dies?” (well, aside from Civil War, because comics oontext), but right now we’re going in knowing (or, bare minimum, thinking we know) exactly what happens to Natasha. Where she’ll end up just under two years from when the story starts is set in stone (NO PUN INTENDED). So we need another way to give the story stakes. Natasha’s life and her future aren’t up in the air. Her past is, I guess, but they’ve been clear this movie isn’t about her past. And where that leaves us is the emotional journey. I outlined above what I think that is, but it doesn’t have to be that to be satisfying- it just has to be some way to leave Natasha changed in a way that surprises us as audience.

And, sure, that could be loss- that could be betrayal from everyone in this movie, leaving her alone and with no one to turn to but the Avengers- but I don’t think that is. I think that’s looking at Natasha’s story like she’s still a secondary character, rather than the protagonist. The basic structure of a superhero movie (and specifically a Marvel movie) is that the protagonist suffers defeat but ultimately triumphs, internally if not externally, having learned something that takes them farther on their emotional journey. Since (as far as we )know this is the only movie Nat’s getting- she’s not getting a trilogy or a Dis+ show- this needs to take her farther than most single-protagonist movies have.

In terms of another kind of closure: If the movie doesn’t offer at least a hint of a way Nat could come back (and I’m still hoping for that no matter how unlikely it is, and if it doesn’t happen I’m hoping for it in the Dr Strange sequel, and after that I’m sure I’ll find another path), I think there’s an excellent chance the post-credits scene will be a funeral for her. Given that they have SebStan and Mackie and Emily Van Camp shooting together right now, it would be very easy to at the VERY least get us a scene of them mourning her. It’s not the same as Tony’s giant lakehouse memorial, but it’s about half the characters who were close to her when she was alive (the others being Clint, Maria, and Fury, and I’m pretty sure they could have put an hour of time on the FFH set to the latter two having five seconds of looking solemn). I think that, given the backlash to Endgame, they need something like this: we need to see, on screen, conclusive proof that Natasha’s life mattered, not just for the audience, but for the world she lived in.

My dream would be for the entire movie to use a frame story OF her funeral- people talking about her, different memories and different understandings, that combine in different ways to collectively show a whole. Fucking Rashomon that shit. But we all know they’re not going to do that.

I recognize I am still talking satisfying and not happy.

But what exactly is happy? What exactly is the happy ending Natasha might want?

She’s not a character who wants to retire or settle down somewhere. As much as we in the audience talk about wanting her to get a break, we’ve never seen that from her, and we also don’t see a world that could really offer that to her; especially post-Cap2, Natasha does not have the luxury of escaping her past even if she did want to.

We don’t know her goals. We don’t know what she wanted outside of making amends for her past. We’ve gotten that from almost every other character- say what you want about Steve’s Endgame ending (god knows I have), or about Bruce being a public figure that kids love, but at least there was groundwork laid for it.

i think the best argument we have for what makes Natasha happy is in Civil War, when it’s taken away. Natasha is willing to give up things that are important to her (her autonomy) in favor of not losing her team; being together is the priority for her. By the end of Civil War, she’s lost even that; she’s seen to have betrayed her entire team and has no one. By IW we know that she re-finds her group, that she and Steve and Sam and Wanda are a tightly-knit unit, but we have to piece it together ourselves, and we have no way to know that it’s by choice rather than necessity. (The BW trailer is really the first time we get evidence that Natasha has more resources than just the Avengers or SHIELD; even fic has tended to just posit she has empty safehouses, not living people she can go to.) The BW movie could give her that team, and retroactively make her appearance in IW a reward for her- having found the team she wanted- rather than just the natural place for her to end up.

But I can’t see how that would even work without at least some of Chris Evans, Anthony Mackie, and Elizabeth Olsen appearing in this movie and showing on screen that Natasha has her people. We haven’t seen evidence they aren’t, but at least I haven’t heard any rumors they are, the way we’ve heard rumors about RDJ.

And there’s something awful, to me, in Natasha constantly being supporting in other people’s movies, which exist to seem self-contained even if they’re not, but then in her movie her emotional fulfillment relying on things that happen elsewhere- the implication that her emotional arc can’t even support a single movie.

In terms of what we’ve seen achieved, Natasha seems happiest when she’s solving a problem, when she’s fighting and winning and being the hero she doesn’t quite believe she is. But that’s not something that can be an end to an arc, of a decade or even of two hours. No matter how great that is, it’s a momentary thing, and it’s fleeting. That’s happiness but not narratively satisfying

This remains not an answer to the original questions.

I think part of the issue is, it’s not necessarily that we need Natasha to be happy, for her to have a happy ending. It’s that we, the audience, wants to be happy- and frankly, I don’t think that’s unreasonable; we’re not going to blockbusters to have our hearts torn out (and I think that after Endgame especially, Natasha fans are not ready or willing to do that again). And so we’re looking less at how Natasha can be happy, but how we can be happy. Selfishly, I’d even add: how we can be happy without doing the work. How we can be happy without conspiracy-theorizing our way to a satisfying narrative, but rather, a narrative that’s already on the screen, that we can just roll around in and enjoy.

I realize how bizarre this is to say after 3000+ words, but: I want the opportunity to be a lazy viewer. I want the chance to take things in without having to take responsibility for making them into something I want to see. I don’t want to have to reverse-engineer her story; I want to dig into the minutiae that is maybe actually intended.

On some level, that’s going to be the happy ending for me. Just having a whole text to dive into is a gift. (I am probably monkey-pawing myself just by saying this, which is the same kind of bullshit I argued for Age of Ultron- but then, I still can rewatch Ultron and find a lot that I like.) And Natasha getting a narrative win- which, as protagonist, she kind of has to- will be a happy ending for me.

But I’m a Natasha fan. This is expected.

What I think is the real question under all of this- what I’ve been struggling to tease out from my own feelings, and maybe now I’m finally getting to it- is a different question entirely: how can Marvel craft a story that sticks with their formula of giving a protagonist a win and something like a happy ending, while telling a story about a character who has been sidelined for ten years until they killed her off? Setting aside those of us who are overly invested in Natasha’s arc, what is the path to telling a story that the majority of the audience- most of whom haven’t traced her history, many of whom are casual fans, some of whom probably didn’t even see Endgame- finds fulfilling and happy?

The hero has to win, obviously. The hero has to triumph. Natasha has to come away having saved the world (stopping a villain from destruction), her world (protecting those close to her), and her internal world (some kind of emotional progress/catharsis). There will be moments intended for the audience to cheer. That’s a formula that you can find in nearly every superhero movie, and with good reason; I can’t think of why it wouldn’t apply here.

So looping back around, the question about the sad ending really is just for those of us who are deeply engaged. It’s not “will Natasha triumph?” because yes, she will- of course she will. We are going to get a movie where the world will be saved by Natasha (which has happened before) and the text will acknowledge that (which it really has not). The real question at hand is “will Natasha’s triumph be enough to mitigate the substantial losses she’s had in the other movies, or will it be bittersweet, her success here just underscoring the way that her biggest narrative win was to kill herself for no recognition?”

Which, of course, on some level, will vary from audience member to audience member. But I think that, with the awareness of how Endgame worked, and the knowledge of exactly when this movie is coming out, they have to at least try to give her- and us- this.

It’s now 5:15 AM and this is over 4000 words long and if you’ve read all this you deserve a medal. I’m happy to clarify or expand on anything in a few hours when I get up; I know that I circled a few points rather than clearly making them, but I’m no longer even completely sure what is common knowledge and what is me projecting. Hopefully this can at least start a conversation?

ETA: And anon, I am sure no matter what happens, fanfic will have our backs.

[ninzied]

north/south

she doesn’t cry.

a pepperony/stark family fic. spoilers for endgame.

She doesn’t cry.

Pepper knows it’s to be expected. That she doesn’t understand; that she can’t understand, that she doesn’t know how. But there’s no comfort to be found in the things that are expected, when there’s nothing expected about any of this.

She doesn’t cry. She eats the food, or she at least picks at the food, poking the grapes around on her plate, and pouting at the “weird stuff” she doesn’t like, arugula in the salad, and “the hard bread” that she ends up licking all the toppings off of.

She is her father’s daughter, through and through.

There are sliders, but they didn’t come with any cheese, so Happy swipes some cheddar off the charcuterie board, stabs a toothpick back through each one and heats them up in the microwave for her.

She asks for ketchup, and Happy looks lost for a moment until Butterfingers unearths some packets from underneath papers at Tony’s work station.

“We have no idea how long those have been there,” Pepper starts to scold them both, but the anticipation on Morgan’s face – and Happy’s, too, really, even the robot is tilting its little makeshift head at her – suffice it to say she doesn’t go anywhere with the rest of that sentence.

It wedges a small crack in her heart, but only a small one, when Morgan takes her plate of small cheeseburgers and plops herself down on the couch by the fire. Only the smallest of cracks. There isn’t much left that hasn’t already been broken.

Morgan sits and looks around her, expectant. She’s waiting for something, and Happy’s trying his best to figure out what, when Pepper gestures at the table. The mask isn’t there anymore – it’s been replaced by the food, and a very somber Nick Fury who’s deep in discussion with Miss Danvers – but this is the last place Morgan had seen her father.

And it would certainly stand to a four-year-old’s reasoning that this is the first place he’ll come looking for her again. She just has to wait long enough.

Morgan turns to Happy with her untouched plate and says, “I thought you said Daddy liked cheeseburgers too.”

Happy’s face falls, and he’s rushing forward to do damage control while Pepper – Pepper’s just trying to breathe, because it’s hard suddenly, when her chest feels like it’s turned to ice. It was ridiculous to think that she was done breaking after all.

She remembers, at least, how to take one step, then two. In fact, she makes it all the way to the bookcase before completely falling apart.

…

Their life together is on those shelves. Pictures of Morgan, mostly. First breath. First coo. First sneeze, because that was not a battle that Pepper found worth fighting with Tony. First steps, first bite of cake at each of their birthdays. Chocolate for Morgan. Red velvet for Pepper. Anything topped with a disgusting amount of sprinkles for Tony.

Then there were the drawings of them with matching shrapnel hearts that glowed, Pepper’s on a necklace, Morgan with her little bracelets. Multiplication tables that Tony had proudly framed even though all of the 3’s were written insistently backwards. Crayon portraits of dogs that Pepper always said no to.

She should have let them have a dog.

But it’s not any of these things that shatters that last piece of her left still standing.

She’s always aimed for cleanliness, but living with a child – make that two, on most days – was not exactly conducive to keeping a place tidy for long.

There are toys scattered here and there, stuffed animals and small handheld robots that were ostensibly made to help with the chores but more often than not got caught up in turf wars with the lions, not to mention one very nefarious hedgehog.

The hedgehog had been borne of a so-called math project of theirs. They’d repurposed a coconut plushy, and then proceeded to cover every inch of it with Pepper’s hot glue gun, bits of fabric, and hair – hair from Morgan’s toy trolls, her Raggedy Ann dolls, and the My Little Ponys that Bruce had sent her one year for Christmas.

They’d completed the look by jamming in colored paper clips for paws, and adding on black button eyes as an after-thought.

It looks – well, it looks like a little monster, quite frankly, but Morgan adores it, and so had Tony. He’d been beside himself with delight when she christened it “Hairy Ball” – Harry for short, at Pepper’s insistence.

…

(“I…don’t understand this, but I suppose I will have to accept it.”

“Potts, it’s the hairy ball theorem,” said Tony, with Morgan giggling away in his ear as he hoisted her higher and higher. “Simple topology. Take an even-dimensional sphere, and any continuous tangent vector field must have at least one point on the sphere where the vector equals zero.”

“I’m sure it does, Tony.”

“In essence, if you try to comb a hairy ball flat, there’s always going to be that one stubborn tuft that sticks out.”

“I see,” said Pepper, entirely humoring them. “And this is useful because…?”

“Because it’s funny,” said Morgan, kissing her hedgehog in the middle of its lumpy forehead.

“Because it’s funny,” Tony had echoed, like no other explanation mattered more than this one, and they shook their heads at each other with perfectly matching affronted expressions.)

…

Harry the hedgehog is squashed beneath a teetering bookstack, its felt-tipped nose poking out from behind a textbook on origami.

Pepper bends down as if on autopilot, straightening things and dusting down the edge of the shelf. There’s a rectangular clearing where PROOF THAT TONY STARK HAS A HEART had so recently occupied space.

She sinks onto her knees for a moment, the hedgehog’s paws pressing into her fingers. One of the seams has ripped in the body of the fabric, spilling out stray wisps of cotton, and when she runs her palm over its patchwork of hair, smoothing out some of the tangles, its nose perks up as though trying to sniff at her hand.

…

(“Look, Mommy,” Morgan demonstrated for her, vigorously brushing back as much hedgehog hair as she could. “It’s sticking up here – and see, here – also here—”

“I have an idea where you can try that theory out next,” Pepper winked, much to Morgan’s slyly growing delight.

“Like…Daddy’s head?”

“No, sweetheart,” and their little girl giggled again as Tony looked at them both in mock betrayal, “not like Daddy’s head.”)

…

One of the paper clips comes loose, dangling uselessly before slipping between Pepper’s fingers. She watches it fall, blurring together with the rug at her feet.

Her shoulders shake, and then they’re only shaking harder as she folds herself up, as small and still as she can make her body so that Morgan doesn’t see her cry.

Grief surges up from every corner, so cold it burns everywhere that it touches, and just when she thinks she has nothing left it comes crashing out of all that nowhere again, drowning, drowning, if only it would just let her fucking drown.

…

(“That little guy can help predict the weather too, you know.”

“Oh, not that hedgehog theory again.”

“Theorem, Potts. Theorem. And hear me out – you’re looking particularly ravishing today, by the way—”

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly, but he kissed her neck and it made her feel so very warm all the same.

“—so Earth’s atmosphere, right? A spherical surface.” He took her face into his hands. “Let’s say there’s a storm brewing, blowing its wind east to west. There are – guaranteed – at least two spots where everything stands perfectly still. There is no wind.” Tony leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Here.” He tipped his head down to hover his mouth over hers as she smiled. “And here, too.”)

…

Pepper’s lost him so many times, but he always found his way back to her in the end. This time shouldn’t have been any different.

This time shouldn’t have been any different.

Everything’s quiet. The music has stopped, even the clinking of silverware, plates, all the small talk. Maybe she’s imagined it, but she can’t hear anything else beyond the soft raggedness of each breath as it shakes its way in and out of her body.

“Mrs. Stark?” A voice, sounding more distant than it probably is, and then a light awkward tapping on her shoulder. “I mean, Miss Potts. Mi—umm.” Peter Parker clears his throat, and she blinks, blinks, blinks until the hand he’s held out to her comes into focus. “I think you dropped this.”

She takes the paper clip, and manages a watery chuckle when Peter moves his other arm around, into her line of sight, and Morgan’s at the other end of it, holding on to his wrist. There’s a smear of ketchup on her chin, and Happy close behind her, a crumpled up napkin in hand.

“Oh, my darling girl.”

Pepper opens her arms, and Morgan climbs onto her lap, tiny hands already hard at work to wipe away the wetness on her cheeks. Her fingers dance over the smile that Pepper musters for her, and then Harry’s face pops back into view, Morgan carefully lifting him up to give Pepper a fuzzy little kiss on the nose.

“I miss Daddy.” Morgan’s voice is so small – the smallest, most powerful sound that Pepper has ever heard, but now’s not the time for her to break anymore.

“I know.” Pepper tucks her hair back, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Morgan burrows closer, the weight of her settling like a permanent warmth into Pepper’s chest. “I miss him too.”

“He’s really not coming back?” She’s cradling Harry, touching the open seamful of cotton with unsteady fingers.

“No, sweetie. But he loved you so, so much.”

Peter’s furiously rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, and Pepper beckons him over, patting the spot of rug next to them. He looks uncertain, but it doesn’t last long before he’s collapsing himself down, shoulders quaking as she puts her arm around him too.

Morgan sniffles into her neck, her whole body tightening as though trying to resist all this sadness she still doesn’t know what to do with, how to make it go away. Pepper murmurs soothing things in her hair, and then she closes her eyes, if only for a few blessed seconds, so that the world can stop spinning and just give her daughter a moment to cry.

It almost hurts, not to let herself cry with her.

“Hey, Miss Pepper?” says Peter, after a while. He’s dabbing his nose with a clean handkerchief that his Aunt May has just brought him. He points at the hedgehog, its missing paw still clutched in her hand. “What is…that?”

Morgan pipes up, before Pepper has a chance to say otherwise, “This is Hairy Ball.” The words come out a bit gargly and hoarse, but she straightens a little, looking pleased that someone is asking.

Happy coughs out a laugh into his hand. At the edge of Pepper’s vision, she sees Nick still over by the food, his one good eyebrow nearly shooting right off of his forehead.

Peter, meanwhile, looks simply floored. “As in the theorem? Cool.”

“See, Mommy?” Morgan wipes at her eyes, and graciously passes the hedgehog over for Peter’s perusal. “Daddy and I told you.”

“You most certainly did.” Pepper leans back as Morgan points out all of Harry’s features, Peter following raptly along and nodding his head at all the right moments. That crack in her chest opens just a bit wider, leaving a hitch in her breath that aches, and aches, and aches.

Her eyes are burning again.

But it’s okay, Pepper thinks, because there’s no other option. She’d made a promise to Tony that they were going to be okay. She has to believe it will look different from this, someday, but for now—

For now, they can take turns standing still.

[ao3.]

[stark-web-warriors]

Stark Contrast: Introduction

Masterlist | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Word count: 3,632

Warnings: Swearing, reference to familial death, mentions of sex, mention of a drop of blood

Chapter Summary: Y/N first meets Tony Stark as his illegitimate daughter from a party 17 years ago. As Mr. Stark and her lawyer discuss custody, she must ponder if this is even something she wants.

A/N: The beginning is finally here! I hope you all enjoy this introductory chapter. It’s really focused on introducing the character of Y/N and how she came to live with Tony. Peter and the whole big bang will begin in Chapter One, I promise! Also, I know Project Arsenal is something completely different in the comics, but here I’m using it to refer to the new element that saved Tony’s life in Iron Man 2. If you want to be added to the tag list for this fic, reblog this with “StarkContrastTaglist” in the notes and I‘ll add your username. Members of the tag list MUST reblog. Even if you don’t want to be added to the tag list, comment, reblog, send me an ask, anything helps. I want to hear from you all, even if you just want to tell me how your day is going!!!

Throughout her childhood, somewhere buried in a musty old closet was a document that held more family secrets than Y/N could care to know. Not that her life was great before Pandora’s Box opened. Her parents tried, but there was always that surreptitious foundation that made her feel like a black sheep, just left of center, and still outside the circle. One small life-ending car accident later, and she was discovered. The illegitimate daughter of Tony Stark, a poor girl from the slums of some nameless city in the midwest now suddenly torn away to upstate New York, riding in the car alongside a lawyer who was nervously adjusting his tie and preparing his big case. The clammy man awkwardly muttered an explanation about why this was not just another false claim, that this was his actual DNA pulsing through the result of a wild after party he threw in Seattle 17 years ago.

The driveway up to the obscene white building was long, winding and pointless. The security was at every corner, the vehicle constantly being stopped by AI surveillance that needed yet another verification.  A scan here, a code there. Y/N couldn’t help but play with the automatic window in her boredom. The glass slid up and down with the flick of a switch. The sound of the outside air rushing in before being funnelled and cut off amused her childish mind, and the cold autumn air dusting over her cheeks was refreshing. Just the feeling of having control over the window made Y/N feel more secure in her current, dodgy affair. The car pulled up to the main entrance and beyond the silver-framed glass doors a large empty lobby could be seen, like a pristine shopping mall without the stores and gum-ball machines. The nervous man beside Y/N took a deep breath and then eagerly unlatched the door and pushed his way out. When she heard the door loudly click shut behind him, Y/N shrugged and shoved her shoulder into the door to follow suit.

It was sunny outside. The kind of beautiful August day that had no right to be so summer-y. The warmth radiated into Y/N’s cheek as she gazed upon the vast white monstrosity. She slowly stepped around in a circle, noticing the quin-jet on the runway in the front lawn and the slightly demolished trees of the uncultivated forest along the shoreline, flickers of the ocean water glimmering through the branches as it sloshed against the land. It was as ugly as it was beautiful. Y/N closed her eyes, just for a moment, and inhaled the fresh ocean air, it’s impurities tickling her nose as it rushed to her brain. She felt cleansed.

Finally, Y/N turned back around and jogged across the heated pavement to catch up with her lawyer, who was hurrying in a manner somewhere between stoic confidence and absolute frantic anxiety. The interior was a stark contrast to the bright white outside. A collection of black and grey floor tiles glowed in the natural light flooding in through the windows. Above their heads a couple of people in lab coats trotted across a glossy black catwalk, accented by the silver hardware that connected it to the glass panels and handrails. The two were speaking about in something that sounded like another language entirely, but she figured it had to be English given their London accents peeking through the dialogue. The whole place felt vast, but not empty. 

A man approached, whom Y/N recognized as Harold Hogan, known to his friends as “Happy”. The man who was once Tony Stark’s bodyguard was now known for his responsibility in managing the operations of the Avengers Facility. His face was serious and his walk meant business. Y/N couldn’t imagine what inspired the nickname “Happy” outside of good, old-fashion sarcasm. 

“Adam Goldberg?” Happy inquired, stepping up to Y/N’s lawyer with a slight scowl. Goldberg nodded tentatively, without any words. Happy huffed and turned to glare straight into Y/N’s eyes. “Is this your client?” he asked Goldberg passively, still staring at the teenager beside him.

“Yes,” Y/N heard Adam Goldberg state confidently as he straightened up. She was beginning to become annoyed by the accusing eyes of “Happy” Hogan. 

Happy nodded, “Alright. You two follow me. Do not touch anything. Better yet, don’t look at anything. Look straight ahead the whole way.” The man turned and began briskly walking at a pace it was hard to keep up with. Goldberg looked excited as the two of you trotted along, like a little kid on ‘Bring Your Kid to Work Day’, like this was his first big case. In fact, it probably was to some extent. How many cases could possibly warrant meeting a celebrity the likes of Tony Stark? Y/N shook her head at his ignorant bedside manner. This was her life in the hands of a billionaire and whether or not he’d really want to take the responsibility of a child he never knew he had. Quite simply, it was stressful. So when Happy Hogan stopped on the side of a glossy black door, it’d be safe to say her heart stopped for a few seconds. 

Mr. Goldberg reached for the golden door handle and eagerly pulled it open. Y/N couldn’t see behind his broad, suit-jacket wearing shoulders, adding to her heightened anxiety. She followed the grey-wool clad mass that was her lawyer into a dark office. Goldberg finally stepped aside to take a seat and Y/N’s breath hitched as she was faced with Tony Stark, slouched in a chair behind a large black desk and surrounded by gunmetal grey computers and machines. The room was lit up almost exclusively by the bright blue displays, depicting blueprints and schematics that seemed incomprehensibly detailed. Quickly, she took the seat to the right of Goldberg. It was strange to sit so close to a celebrity. She could see his pores, the faint scar across his left cheek and the grey hairs peeking out in his beard and his hairline. It all made him seem so real and human. The visual appearance of age made Y/N relax some as the feeling that this man was no longer the party monster that brought her into this world. He was a superhero, and that had to mature someone.

Still, she just lost her family, was at a meeting to determine what stranger she’d get tossed off to, and she wanted to be angry at this man. It was his immaturity that put her in a childhood of poverty. A rich man who had a fun night with a poor woman, and left her to raise the child. There was the small detail that her mother never told this Tony Stark that Y/N ever existed, but how would she even have gone about that? One night at a party doesn’t exactly warrant exchanging contact information on a hunk of Blackberry phone.

“Mr. Stark-” Goldberg began but was too startled to finish as Tony wordlessly jumped up from his chair and began working his way around the desk.

“So you’re what, fifteen?” Tony inquired dismissively, tapping a large silver pen against his palm as he meandered toward Y/N.

“Seventeen,” Y/N corrected passively, not hesitating long enough to skip a beat.

“And I’m just finding out about this now? A little suspicious, don’t you think?” Mr. Stark continued as he cornered around the evidently invisible lawyer.

Goldberg interrupted, “Sir, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t address my client directly-“

“I guess my mother just didn’t think you were the “father” type, though I can’t see why. Seems you made a pretty good sugar daddy for her,” Y/N remarked over her lawyer. It felt good to just give in to her hormonal teenage whims. She wanted to act out, and if there was a place to do it, of course it was this very important meeting.

Tony stopped and smiled. He set a hand on Goldberg’s shoulder and leaned in. “I like her,” he commented, before looking back at Y/N. She crossed her arms, leather jacket squeaking, and slouched back in her chair in defense. His face was different now. It showed a level of disassociation mixed with curiosity that quite frankly scared the teen he was staring down. It was like looking at an angry parent mocking fake innocence before blowing their top. The big crazy eyes and the slow approach. Y/N chewed her lip nervously as Tony Stark stepped behind her chair and set his hands on the corners of the backrest.

A zap ran down Y/N’s spine and she jumped away from Tony in her chair, yelling, “Ouch!” as her hand flew up to the back of her neck. It was wet and she pulled her hand down to see a small spot of blood on her palm, nothing that wouldn’t stop in a matter of seconds, and still blood. “What the hell?” Y/N yelled, shifting in her chair to face Tony Stark. She was shocked, confused, angry, and she wanted answers even if she couldn’t form a sentence that communicated any of that.

“DNA test,” Tony shrugged, pulling back the object Y/N had previously thought was a pen, and now understood to be the machine that stabbed her moments ago. The man smirked at the obnoxious teen's obvious frustration as he backed away confidently.

“You couldn’t have just asked?” Y/N sputtered.

“You see, I really couldn’t have,” Tony sighed. “DNA tests are a tricky thing. Could be faked, could be toxic, and it was much more fun to see your face do that thing.”

“What thing?” The insecurity was already forming, though for what she didn’t know. She watched as the man placed the not-a-pen object into a slot that had opened up in his desk. It disappeared before their eyes as it was sucked away.

“Mr. Stark, really-“ Goldberg tried again, only for Tony to ignore him and begin explaining.

“We’ll see the results from that in a few seconds, and then we can talk.”

Y/N adjusted in her chair. She really didn’t know what would happen. For all she knew, she wasn’t actually Tony Stark’s kid and her mother was a compulsive liar. All she had to tell her otherwise was a shitty piece of paper that had been hidden in a closet for years if not her entire life. And what if she was Tony Stark’s daughter? Would that really be any better? He was an annoying, childish stranger from what she had seen and what business did he have suddenly trying to be a father? That is, if he even would try. It was all very agonizing, and Y/N found herself compulsively tugging at the sleeves of her leather jacket.

“Now I’m gonna be honest with you, kid,” Tony started, “I don’t remember your mother at all. I don’t remember a lot of women, to her credit, but when someone starts knocking down your door claiming they have your DNA, you have to be careful,” Y/N couldn’t tell if she wanted to roll her eyes or cry at what this man was saying. She felt lost and lonely, and he was definitely only making it worse. “Especially now. We don’t know who’s out there, and when the media has given us the whole ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’ gig, who knows what kind of people-”

“The results are in, Sir.” It was like a voice from the sky. Y/N hadn’t noticed any speakers in the room, and wasn’t prepared to be hearing the voice of this AI interface the entire world had heard about without actually hearing it, called “J.A.R.V.I.S.”

“Right on time,” Tony commented, plopping back down into his chair, slightly sideways with a leg hanging over the armrest. “What’ve you got for me, Jarvis?”

“It’s a match.” Tony’s smug faced drained into a pale expression of nothingness. He stared vacantly into the wall beyond his dangling leg.

“Get out,” Tony mumbled.

“What?” Y/N couldn’t help but laugh as she spoke, though her face was contorted in a type of concern and confusion she had never known.

“Get out, kid,” Tony commanded aggressively as he once again stood up, mentioning, “I want to talk to your lawyer,” as he hurried around the desk and opened the office door. Y/N kept staring at the manic man as he gestured like a doorman. “Vamoose. Move your caboose, kid, I’ve not got time to read you a whole Dr. Seuss book,” Stark complained as he dropped an exhausted hand.

Hurriedly, Y/N collected herself and scuttled out the door, not sure where she was supposed to go while this was going on, or what that even meant. She gasped as the door slammed behind her, wind gusting through her hair at the sudden movement. Her brows knit together and her lips gaped as she began to panic. Eyes watering as she stared at the floor. A throat clearing beside her pulled her back into reality, turning to see the now softer, yet clearly uncomfortable face of Happy Hogan. He didn’t even speak, just nodded his head to the side and started walking. Y/N followed him as she presumed that is what he intended, though everything seemed so different here it was hard to tell. He led her into an open lounge they had passed on the way to Tony’s office earlier. There was a wall of windows behind a large black leather couch, that made a “U” shape around an unlit stone fireplace. Directly behind was a bar lined with various expensive-looking liquor bottles. Y/N turned to look at Happy, trying to figure out if this was where she was supposed to be. He shifted awkwardly and nodded toward the couch while clearing his throat again. She sadly looked at the floor and walked over to the couch, taking a seat before looking back for approval from Happy, still back at the walkway. Upon seeing her on the couch, he promptly walked off back toward Tony’s office. She was alone.

She was crying before she could even process it. Y/N hated crying, but here she was doing it. A tear here for how overwhelmed she was, a sniff there for how scared she was, and a long exhale for how exhaustingly alone she felt. Time was slow. Even as the orange glow of sunset flooded into the room, Y/N felt as though she’d be trapped in that awful moment forever. She watched the sun sink lower into the sky as her tears dried, the weight of a thousand buildings on her chest. It was devastating as the burning light silhouetted the trees and glimmered in the ocean. After what she could swear had been hours, Y/N finally heard placid voices and turned to the open end of the room that aligned with the hallway. She saw Happy and Mr. Goldberg walk past, their giant shadows hurrying against the warm glow of the wall behind them. Neither so much as turned to look at her. She caught only a fragment of their conversation. Something about the logistics of transferring materials, but they disappeared behind the second wall so quickly. Y/N couldn’t be bothered with being concerned anymore. It had been too many hours that day she had worried, so she shrugged off the appearance and turned back to the last of the sunset. The flaming orb had all but disappeared, and all that was left of its presence was a pink hue over the shoreline. Sunset always moved at such an exponential pace. Once it was almost over, you’d blink and it’d be done.

It was beginning to grow dim in the room. It had probably been about 15 minutes since Mr. Goldberg had left and the windows were providing minimal light, but the whole place was muted and blue without the sun to light it up. Y/N almost found herself feeling drowsy, but was pulled right back as suddenly the fluorescent ceiling lights popped on, causing her to swing her head around suddenly to find the source, eventually landing on a tentative Tony Stark not quite standing in the room as he half hid behind the wall closest to his office.

“Hey, kid,” Tony greeted calmly, as he walked into the space, hands hidden in the pockets of his blue jeans. The imposing glow of his chest piece polluted his black t-shirt as he approached Y/N. She watched him carefully as he sat down beside her, about another person’s worth of space between them. It was quiet. They both stared at their own shuffling feet and between the two of them, nothing was said for what seemed like an eternity. “Happy talked to Goldberg about getting your stuff here. It’ll be in your room sometime tomorrow morning.”

This was a lot more information than what was said, and still Y/N felt the need to clarify, “So I’m staying? Like, here?”

“Yeah. I mean, this is where I live and I guess I’m your guardian now, so this is home.” Tony seemed to be speaking aimlessly, struggling to find the right words.

“Weird,” Y/N responded simply, sitting on her hands uncomfortably.

“Weird,” Tony agreed before remaining silent for another hopelessly long amount of time. The moon was beginning to take place in the early-evening lavender sky when he shifted, pointing his knees toward the teen. “Look, I am sorry but I really don’t remember your mother.”

“Why would you even say that?” Y/N asked, suddenly standing up and facing the now small looking man on the couch.

Tony sat up and defensively snapped back, “I was just trying to be honest-”

“Honest doesn’t make it okay. I don’t know you. You’re a strange man who sexed my mother, and now I’m standing in your house without warning. I am not here for honest right now,” Y/N ranted. Her face was heating up and she felt the need to begin pacing a small path in front of him, only about a meter wide. “And where was that honesty when you decided to stab me in the fucking neck?”

“I had to make sure you weren’t just another ‘fake news’ case.” Tony’s face turned harder as he now stood up from the couch, not much taller than Y/N, and probably not as threatening as he would like to be as a consequence. “I’m trying to tell you that I cannot remember anything about that night. I don’t remember your mother. From what I can tell, I was so blackout drunk that night I forgot to use a condom. My mistake.”

Y/N jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me?” she shouted. “I didn’t have a choice to be born. I just was; whatever the reason. I just lost my entire family and now I’m supposed to live with a strange man. I’m scared!” She near screamed.

“Well I’m scared, too, kid,” Tony stated firmly, staring her down. “Neither of us asked for this, okay? I’m not a dad. I don’t have the prerequisites for that. I’m just a guy who now has custody of a teenager. What am I supposed to do with that?” The sound of his voice beginning to break apart sobered Y/N from her previous state of anger. The man took a calming breath before continuing, “I’m trying to be honest about not remembering your mother so you don’t have any pretenses about me. I can’t be your parent—not in the way she was.”

“She was a bitch anyway,” Y/N commented submissively, plopping back on the couch.

“You don’t miss her?” Tony sat down again, this time next to her. His words, for the first time, expressed genuine interest.

“I mean, I do, like she cared for me and all, but she had her shortcomings, too. She lied about who my biological father was for the last 17 year of my life, which is all of them, so that kind of sucks.” Y/N felt a little embarrassed about the dialectics she was toying with, and felt the need to simplify it all into a simple, “It’s complicated.”

“I get that,” Tony agreed, cautiously placing an arm along the back of the couch behind Y/N’s head. “My old man was a pain in the ass. Couldn’t even find the time to acknowledge my existence. Then after he died I found out about Project Arsenal.” The curious teen looked Stark in the eyes for the first time that night and pulled her legs onto the couch so she could sit sideways and face him. “It saved my life, but it still doesn’t make up for getting ignored through an entire childhood.”

“Big mood,” Y/N nodded.

“Big what?”

“Big mood,” Y/N repeated. Tony turned his palms up and shook his head, making her giggle to know that even if he is one of the most relevant people in the world, he still was an old guy who didn’t know the lingo. “It’s like, I feel that. You know?” For the first time since meeting the world famous Tony Stark, she saw a genuine smile begin to play at the corner of his lips. “You’re not getting this, are you?” Y/N presumed. “It means it’s relatable,” she tried again, laughing at the strange man. She knew he was right in that he couldn’t be a “dad” to her, but if this was Tony, she figured she could survive having one of those.

[ssironstrange]

endgame rant

SPOILERS AHEAD PLEASE AVOID IF YOU HAVENT SEEN IT YET

yeah i know i said i wouldn’t post spoiler shit but listen i gotta get this off my chest ok

i have some REAL BIG FUCKING ISSUES with the way the russos handled a lot of plotlines. don’t get me wrong, this movie was amazing and epic and fucking award worthy, but as a fan i’ve taken offense to a Lot of things.

clint

nothing about his ronin story makes a lick of fucking sense in the mcu. his family is dusted so he…… goes on a mass murdering spree??? decides that he should get a haircut and spend the next five years getting an edgy tattoo sleeve??? um. okay then. destroy the past like 10 years of his character having one of the best moral compasses of the entire team. why did he take up using a fucking SWORD in present day? do you know how long it takes to master swordsmanship at the level he was? with at least half of the world’s teachers gone? more than five fucking years thats for damn sure. and between him and natasha dying for the soul stone? it should have been him. i know he had a family and all but listen. nat went through physical and psychological torture. her body was modified against her will. she was brainwashed and used. and finally, FINALLY she gets free of it all, finds a family in the avengers, and continues to try and better herself to make up for things that weren’t even her fault to begin with. and clint? what did he suffer? oh thats right. nothing. he’s just damn good at his job and loves his family. the fact he has a family sucks for sacrifice, but they are well taken care of and every single one of his kids are old enough to understand AND nat would have stepped in immediately as a parental figure to help laura. they fucking fridged nat for clint and i will never forgive that.

thor

here we go. thor’s character legit made me uncomfortable. they went way overboard with the new thor personality. but… fatshaming and making fun of his very real depression and ptsd?? wtf russos. like, haha he let himself go so funny but its NOT. he wasn’t even like…. fat, for one. just a normal dadbod and beer belly. which by the way seems a lot more realistic according to most norse myths of the gods. they were warriors, yeah, but they drank a fucking lot and feasted a fucking lot so. anyway. thor has lost his entire family. not only that but he watched them all die. he saw his mother bleed out. he watched his father disperse into nothingness. he watched the brother he has loved and cherished no matter the amount of times of betrayal and misdeeds get his neck snapped and his lifeless body thrown to the ground. and then the sister he never knew he had killing almost all of your people and then being forced to find a way to kill her. can you imagine trying to cope with that??? and when you put his age into our perspective, he’s only in his 20s. so imagine seeing your whole family die before you’re even 25, then taking on the responsibility of ruling your people. said surviving people are then massacred in front of you with only a few dozen escaping. THEN living with the guilt of blowing your chance to kill the man responsible for that and unable to stop him from decimating half the universe. (and even when he does get revenge on him, it’s too late) tell me you wouldn’t have an atomic level meltdown. thor is suffering so much and all they can do is make fun of him for it and shame him for it. he deserved better.

steve

yall know i don’t like steve. i don’t hate him and i’m not anti-steve, i’ve just never enjoyed his rather inconsistent character and self-righteousness. it felt like we were FINALLY getting a steve i could get behind in this. a steve that swears like he should. a steve who still puts on a brave face for the public but behind closed doors with friends he’s miserable and broken like the rest of them and SHOWS it to them. a steve who realizes he is stuck in the past and just can’t seem to move forward. a steve who i can finally see the culmination of EVERYTHING he’s been through resting on his shoulders and eating him alive inside. finally we were getting a properly layered steve rogers. and then tony came back and that all fell apart. we didn’t get the apology steve owed him (and tbh tony owed him one too but we’ll get to that), we didn’t get a remorseful steve. he didn’t even address the goddamn issue. he went straight back to his bullshit. admittedly he was a better listener this time around and a far better team player overall. it wasn’t a total loss. but. BUT. his ending? no. hell fucking no. i’m happy he and peggy got their life, but it still shouldn’t have happened. how fucking selfish. how fucking backwards of his character. i get he didn’t have a choice in being brought back into the present and that is unfair and sucks for him, but what fucking right did he have to mess with a timeline like that? what right did he have to just decide without telling anyone he was done and giving up? why did he get the fucking happy ending???? steve rogers who looked tony in the eyes and said he wasn’t the kind of man to lay on the wire for someone copped out. steve rogers who knows of all the social progress we’ve made decides to go back to a time where he would be forced to accept segregation and extreme gender inequality and rampant, blatant, gross racism of all sorts oh and more war and alkjdalksdhkas NO plus they broke their own time travel rules so like whatever i guess right?? it’s okay if steeb gets his stupid happy ending right? god is it SO MUCH TO ASK FOR JUST ONCE TO HAVE A GOOD CHARACTERIZATION OFCAP???? it’s not your fault cevans honey you’re doing amazing your directors just have no fucking idea 

tony

frankly this has been amongst rdj’s best performances of tony. i’m still partial to a lot of his acting in the iron man movies BUT this was FANTASTIC. him finally being allowed to absolutely go off on steve was fucking delicious and everything i was waiting for. let it all out tony baby. buuuuut we should have also had something more. i know my fellow tony stans typically don’t believe it but tony was wrong in civil war too. surprise they both fucking were. ANYWAY. i was waiting for an honest apology between them both. after everything they just went through, NONE of the petty bullshit they went through before matters at all. and yet the closest thing we get is tony just being like “turns out i don’t like to hold grudges” or what the fuck ever. why is it so hard just to make one of them say i’m sorry, the other say i’m sorry, admit it was a bunch of BULLSHIT hug it out and then go forward???? ugh. their choice to make tony suddenly care about his dad and be happy to see him???? disgusting. they made it canon that howard was an abuser, neglectful, cold, and hateful. it’s been a BIG DEAL how tony has struggled with the relationship to his dad because of how shitty the man was to him. and then they do tHAT? fuuuuCK that!!!! i’m not saying tony isn’t allowed to forgive howard. thats fine and expected tbh. but they pushed it way too far. the tony stark we’ve known for the last decade would never get all giddy and happy to see him and hug him and fucking thank him??? what the fuckk?? god that was gross. you know what we should have gotten? what tony deserved more than howard fucking stark? MARIA STARK!! and then, of course, my main issue. they fucking killed him. which only tells us, the audience and fans that no matter what you suffer and sacrifice that your only way to redemption is death. jesus fucking christ i am SO angry over this. they killed the two who suffered the fucking most. the two who every single goddamn day worked on being a better person. nat and tony both deserved so much better than waht they got. how the fuck did it make sense to kill tony who now has a fucking CHILD, who still has a future, who FINALLY FOR ONCE IN HIS FUCKING LIFE FOUND A SHRED OF PEACE????? and then let steve just go selfishly galavant through time as he pleases to have the cute happy ending? FUCK that ending. fuck it right up the ass with a huge unlubed cock. steve should have been the one to use the gauntlet. period. he should have been the one to die like that. i would have still fucking cried but you know what?? that would be the most cap thing ever. i wanted a mirror of pre-serum steve jumping on that grenade, but this time grabbing the gauntlet and not hesitating for a split second to snap. but no. they killed tony who left behind a wife who DESERVED MORE THAN HAVING THE MAN SHES LOVED AND SUPPORTED AND MARRIED AND HAS A CHILD WITH RIPPED AWAY FROM HER!!! tony who left behind a daughter too young to really comprehend yet why her daddy isn’t going to be coming back. fuck you russos. the injustice of it is astounding. i’m never going to get over it. you know how they could have killed tony? if they really felt like they needed to? have him grow old and die naturally of old age with pepper in their cute little lakeside house after watching morgan grow into such a strong and brilliant person. but oh. they gave that to steve. right.

stephen

i’ll never complain about having more stephen content but uhhhh i’m gonna complain that we didn’t get more than what we got cause after sitting in the soulworld for five fucking years you canNOT tell me he didn’t get even stronger with time to practice and meditate and work through every iota of information of mystical shit in his head. and yet they sidelined him??? after we’ve SEEN what he’s capable of in IW? just gonna put him on flood control???? something that any of those goddamn sorcerers could have done while he helps wipe the floor with thanos or any of the thousands of enemies? fuuuuuuuuuck that. can you fucking imagine how quickly thanos would have been taken out if it were wanda, carol, and stephen all three against him? jesus. he’s literally amongst the most powerful people but nah, just have him stand over there.

the gay russo

FUCK you for that. i am LIVID about it. yall can’t fucking make valkyrie bi???? or carol????? yall can’t GET AN ACTUAL GAY ACTOR? “ We felt it was important that one of us play him, to ensure the integrity and show it is so important to the filmmakers that one of us is representing that. “ WHAT????????? are you fucking telling me a WOC WHO IS OUT AS BISEXUAL AND WANTS HER CHARACTER TO BE BISEXUAL COULDNT ENSURE THE INTEGRITY OF AN LGBT CHARACTER???????????????? “ It is a perfect time, because one of the things that is compelling about the Marvel Universe moving forward is its focus on diversity.”  SEE PREVIOUS COMMENT????? oh my god fuck them forever.

lets make rules for our time travel then break them immediately

idek whats going on in the timeline anymore. they utterly fucked up and BROKE the timeline of 2012 avengers after letting loki get away with the tesseract. which should have cascaded into their future but, well, it didn’t. so i GUESS now we’re just pretending that made a new timeline which makes no goddamn sense but whatever i guess. steve going back to completely fuck with his timeline, or a timeline at least, and having no consequences in the future besides being old. okay. sure??? we can do all that but we can’t fucking get natasha back. right. cool. okay.

anyway i’m sure theres more bugging me but these are the things bothering me most.

and frankly i don’t care if anyone disagrees i’m not arguing or debating any of this. 

[enchantedlokii]

Human

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: dehumanization

Characters: Wanda Maximoff, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson

Mentioned: Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes, T’Challa, Shuri, Tony Stark, Helmut Zemo, Natasha Romanoff, Vision, James Rhodes

“No! Let me go!” Wanda tried to fight off the guard as he forced something into her neck. As her anger grew, her eyes started to burn red. She felt a shock race through her body and gasped, falling to the ground and heaving for air. “What are you doing to me?”

There was another shock, stronger than the last. “You do not speak unless you are spoken to,” the guard growled, kicking her in the ribs. She let out another gasp, still struggling as they wrapped her in a straightjacket and threw her into the cell. She tried using her powers to escape, but another painful shock wracked her body. This time, black spots danced in her vision.

“Wanda! Wanda, hey!”

Wanda jumped at the voice. Heart racing, she started to back up against the wall of her cell. It was dark, and she couldn’t see who was outside the metal bars. “Wanda, it’s okay. Breathe.”

She knew that voice. It was kind and gentle. As her eyes started to adjust to the dim light, she could make out a figure. She thought. . . She thought it was Steve. She wanted to believe it was Steve, that he had come back for her, but she was too scared to speak. Too afraid that she would be shocked again.

“Wanda, look at me.” She looked in his eyes and saw that they were clouded with sadness and concern. “We’re going to get you out of here, okay? I just need you to stay calm.”

Wanda blinked in response and watched as the man started to pry open the bars. It took him a minute, but he finally managed to get the cell open just as a second figure came up behind him. She started to panic and Steve must have noticed when he got closer. “It’s okay. It’s just Sam,” he told her. And when the second man got closer, she could see that he was right. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head even though it was a lie. Her whole body hurt from the electricity and the tight jacket around her body. She had a pounding headache that she knew wouldn’t go away any time soon. And that was just the ways she was hurt physically.

Wanda flinched away as Steve started to touch her. She knew deep down he didn’t plan on hurting her, but she was scared. “Hey, hey,” he said softly, holding up his hands. “I need you to trust me, Wanda. I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”

Wanda didn’t say anything as Steve slowly lowered his hands. “Sam, help me get this straightjacket off of her first,” there was a hint of disgust in his voice as he carefully started undoing the straps on the front with Sam’s help. Slowly, she felt the pressure start to loosen. Still, she didn’t move her arms as it fell to the floor. “There we go. Now let’s get this shock collar off you. I’m going to have to touch you. Is that okay?”

Wanda nodded slowly, still holding her arms against her chest as the man carefully took ahold of the shock collar. He started trying to pull it apart where it snapped together. He struggled, but after a few pulls it snapped and fell to the ground with a clang that made her jump.

“It’s okay. It’s off now,” Steve told her. The man stood and held out a hand. She looked at him for a few moments, uncertain, then reached and touched it. Sam did the same, and she let him take her other hand. “Alright, up you go.”

Wanda hissed with pain as she stood, then bit her tongue to stay quiet. “What have they done to you?” Sam asked sadly as they walked towards the exit where Steve’s stolen Quinjet was waiting.

Wanda didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer. She just let them lead her to the plane and sit her down in a chair. Immediately, she brought her arms back up to her chest and watched them expectantly. Steve set the flight to autopilot before coming back to the back. “Hey, you can relax. You’re safe now,” he told her when he noticed her position. When she just blinked at him, he frowned.

“They’ve been treating her like an animal,” Sam murmured. “They’re afraid of her powers. I heard them beating her, but there was nothing I could do. Clint tried to break out of his cell to help her but it was no use. They’re made to hold mutants.”

“Ridiculous,” Steve muttered, going back to a cooler and taking out two water bottles. He tossed one to Sam and handed Wanda hers. The girl hesitated before taking hers, and she didn’t move to open it and take a drink. Steve sighed and kneeled in front of her. “Wanda, look at me.”

Wanda did as she was told. “You are not an animal, okay? You’re just as human as the rest of us, and you’re going to be treated like one.” He tapped the water bottle. “You can drink this without us having to tell you it’s okay, and you can have another if you need it. You don’t have to ask.”

Wanda just nodded slowly in response. She started to open her mouth but then closed it quickly, wincing. Sam noticed and realized what was going on. “You’re allowed to speak, Wanda,” he told her. “We’re not going to hurt you for it.”

Wanda took a shaky breath. “Th-thank you.” And slowly, she opened the water bottle. She casted a weary glance at Steve who just nodded. She nodded back and took a small drink.

“So, where exactly are we going?” Sam asked. He seemed to glance around the Quinjet, looking for someone. “Where’s Barnes?”

Steve flinched slightly. “We’re going to Wakanda.” He noticed Sam gape and shook his head. “It’s okay, T’Challa is on our side now. He followed us to Siberia and learned the truth. Bucky is there. . . Just, back in cryo until Shuri can figure out how to do this whole Winter Soldier thing. They’ve agreed to give us refuge as long as we need.”

Sam nodded slowly. “I— Did Stark find you?” he asked. Wanda could remember the man coming to the Raft and speaking to the others. Clint had been furious, shouting at him the whole time.

Steve sighed and nodded, rubbed his face with both hands. “Yeah. Yeah, he did,” he murmured. “He was going to help us, actually, but then Zemo showed him this video. . .” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“The Avengers are really done for, huh?” Sam muttered.

“Yeah. I don’t think there’s any way of undoing this,” he replied. “I. . . I sent him a burner phone and told him to call if he ever needs us, but I don’t think he would call unless the world was ending. And frankly, I don’t blame him. God, I’ve messed up. . .”

Wanda could feel herself shaking. She wanted to cry. She really did. But she couldn’t find the strength. She wanted to believe she would be safe with Steve and Sam, but she longed to have someone else with her. Clint or Natasha. . . Or Vision. She took a shaky breath to stifle the sob that was rising in her throat. Vision had tried to convince them to not take her away, reasoning that she was only a child, but it was no use. And right now, she would give anything to have Vision with her right now. Because he was the only one who understood what it was like to not feel human. To not be treated like a human. Because he wasn’t one. And right now she didn’t feel like one either.

Wanda opened her mouth to speak but stopped. It wasn’t until Sam gave her a comforting look that she spoke up. “Are all the others okay?” she asked quietly, her words barely audible.

“As far as I know, everyone’s fine,” Steve told her. “T’Challa got in contact with Tony. He said Rhodes is doing better. Still in high spirits. He won’t walk on his own again, but knowing Tony he’ll figure something out if he hasn’t already. I don’t think anyone else was hurt too bad in the fight.” He must have seen the flash of disappointment in her eyes when she didn’t get the answer she was looking for and something clicked. “Vision’s okay, Wanda. He feels guilty for what happened, but he’s okay. He managed to figure out how to track us and he was asking about you, actually.”

Wanda looked into his eyes at that. Steve smiled at her and she weakly returned it. “I’m impressed, Wanda. You taught a robot how to have feelings.”

“You’ve made him human.”

And Wanda smiled more genuinely at that. Because maybe, just maybe they meant it when they said she was human. And if they believed it, maybe she could start believing it soon too.