#obadiah is a piece of SHIT and i hate him

[lovelyirony]

“The pain of the mind is worse than the pain of the body.” -Publilius Syrus 

When Tony Stark was born, there was great joy. Stark Industries had an heir! The All-American family was born! There were photos and news clippings, and someone even brought in a cake to celebrate. There are pictures abound, an exhausted mother who is still trying desperately hard not to let the panic set in her face, and a father who is not quite sure how to be a father, and will never be sure.

There is someone else there, who knows that he has missed his mark. His name is Obadiah Stane, he is thirty-nine, and he had thought that the Starks would not have a child. But Howard’s whole statement in business is to do the impossible, and here Anthony Edward Stark is. A little baby, unknowing of all the power he holds. He can’t even open his eyes, and he already has more power in Stark Industries than Obadiah will ever know.

He can’t kill a baby. It doesn’t go against his moral code—most things don’t—but they’ll know. Howard’s seen Obadiah at his most ruthless, even helped acquire some business deals by less-than-great methods. Howard knows that Obadiah wants to run the company, make all the decisions. Which is why after Tony is born, Howard schedules an emergency meeting with his lawyers. Only a Stark heir can run Stark Industries unless directly overridden by the Stark in question. Howard never changes his mind on his decisions.

His hands shake in rage as he pours another glass of brandy. He’s furious: he’s been in the business since he was a teenager, working his way up. This little brat, just born, is going to take over a business that he won’t know fully about. He’ll be coddled within an inch of his life, suck on a silver spoon—probably not silver, if his socialite mother has anything to say about her standards—and Obadiah will be working under him.

There’s a glass of Scotch, smashed glass, and a promise that he makes to himself. But, he’ll need help. Something like this can’t be accomplished by just one man, sad enough as it is. Times, they are a-changing.

He reaches out to contacts. People who hate Howard Stark almost as much as Stane does. They point him to an underground group. Hydra. There’s a man in a computer, fanatics over Captain America, and the craziest motherfuckers he’s ever known. Naturally, Obie fits right in. In between cigar smoke and cruel laughs, there’s a plan.

Hydra has a beautiful project. Shiny, new, dozens of kills under its belt. The name they call it is Winter Soldier, and Obie remembers learning about him in the books. “They got you, didn’t they?” He murmurs. “Beautiful work you’ve done, Doc.”

“Thank you,” Dr. White says, pushing up black wire-rimmed glasses up. “It’s all a matter of the mind. Analyzing the weak points and natural spots. We can get your subject’s under our control in no time. How old is he?”

“Five weeks.” Dr. White pauses.

“That’s much too early.”

“Aren’t babies malleable? Pliable, easy to manipulate? What, you haven’t thought of this shit?” The doctor flashes Stane an irritated look.

“We think around here, Mr. Stane. It’s why we have Winter Soldier. But we’ve manipulated his personality, what made him…well.” He whispers the answer, as if Winter Soldier might think he’s worth more, that he’s not expendable. Stane thinks it’s a good business model.

“What you’re saying…he has to develop a personality. So this is taking, what, eight years?”

“Try twenty,” Dr. White says. “I can draw up paperwork, we can start planting things early, but this will take time. This involves taking a child and turning him into a project. Kids don’t do well with that kind of…well. It gets harder to assimilate their brains to treatment with it changing in development so often.”

Obadiah doesn’t like that there’s so much time, but he’s been given pointers.

Howard Stark was never cut out to be a father, and that’s a plus on Obadiah’s part. He has doubts, and Obie lets those doubts consume him. He doesn’t have time to be a father, he has more people that need his help.

He spends countless years trying to hold back a grin as year after year, the Starks get more estranged. Tony eventually realizing that a family isn’t like his, never should be. Howard and Maria are cold, and Obadiah plants seeds of envy in between Howard’s sips of scotch.

“He might surpass you,” he says. “Probably will, you’ve raised a smart boy.” Howard never raised shit—the kid would probably be a bit better off if Howard had made any fucking effort at all, but where would his plan be of brainwashing Tony and turning him into a little tool for Hydra to use? Nowhere.

It looks perfect. There were constant jokes about Howard being a drunk—there were pictures of him being red-faced, a little bit flirty, but always dashing.

Well. Everyone had their own vice. Howard’s was easier to exploit. Just a well-placed word here, a look there, and everyone believed that Howard was drunk. (No one remembered the fact that Howard always arranged a driver if he was planning on drinking, no one mentioned that Maria’s neck was bruised with handprints.)

[eviesaurusrex]

Stark Universe | Chapter One

Doctor Stephen Strange x Stark!Reader (not liking each other that much), Obadiah Stane x Stark!Reader (super hateful)

summary: Being Tony Stark's younger sister had most definitely its perks, but sometimes it felt similar to being a kindergarten teacher, maybe even his personal nanny. During her brother's disappearance, [Y/N] led Stark Industries under the watchful eye of Obadiah Stane. A visit as one of the main sponsors of the Metro-General Hospital in New York City led the young woman straight into the arms of Doctor Stephen Douchebag Strange.

timeline: We're starting in 2010 (the first Iron Man film); Tony has already disappeared and is nowhere to be found. [Y/N] steps into the limelight for the first time - the result of her being the new head of Stark Industries (Obie-Dobie doesn't like that very much, but hey, it's basically a monarchy, so deal with it, dumbass). She is twelve years younger than Tony, and six years younger than Stephen (he was born in 1976 because I said so), which makes her 28 years old in 2010. I know this goes against a reader insert text, and you can certainly ignore that piece of information, but I just needed an outline for myself!

word count: 3.8k

warnings: Stephen being a little shit for a moment, Obie-Dobie Wankenobi is a disgusting misogynist, mentions of illness and death, children (because they're a warning), mentions of acute insomnia, Pepper being the loveliest human on planet earth, swearing

[Prologue] » [Chapter Two] | [Series Masterlist]

New York City, 2010

The phone’s vibration in her bag snatched [Y/N] back into the cruel reality her life had turned into. Not wanting to face another rising problem, she tried to ignore it as best she could because every call in the last few weeks since Tony’s disappearance had been about the company. And she just couldn’t handle another call to tell her what responsibilities she had to face – again. But the caller was relentless; the vibration of the phone ceased for only a handful of seconds before starting all over again.

Tears of utter exhaustion bubbled up in her eyes, and the Stark was glad there was a divider between the chauffeur and the backseats. She couldn’t handle the pitying stares any longer, especially in a situation like this one, where she was close to a full-on breakdown. Swallowing the slowly rising bile, [Y/N] rummaged inside her back to find the damn phone she wasn’t allowed to just throw into the Hudson. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking violently, not even after she got a hold of the vibrating piece of metal and stared at the illuminated screen.

She knew the number by heart now.

“Obadiah,” she greeted him with a measured tone after accepting the call. She knew how the older man hated hearing emotions taking their toll on her. He never was a fan of those, to begin with. A deeply displeased sigh reached her ear within a matter of seconds. “What did I tell you about that phone?” In this instant, she felt like a schoolgirl all over again, even though she called two PhDs, an MD, and a JD her own. She wasn’t a schoolgirl by any means anymore, even before the universe decided again to treat her differently than others and to push her to grow up even faster. Nonetheless, she swallowed the retort lying on her tongue back down her throat. “Accept the first call,” she replied while closing her eyes tiredly.

I am already so done with this shit.

It was as if [Y/N] could see him sitting in his chair and nodding slowly right before her eyes. “That’s right. What took you so long this time? Your lack of handling your emotions like an awful lot of women out there?” Anger boiled inside her, but again, she ground her teeth and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sitting in the car on my way to the Metro-General. I just didn’t hear it, that’s all.” Yes, keep going! You’re doing great! Lying to herself was a laughable easy task by now. Obadiah seemed partly pleased. “Good, because you are not like the other foolish women out there. You can’t let your emotions control your actions. Have you finally learned that?” You little misogynist piece of shit was all she could think of. He really had to learn how to make proper compliments without insulting people while doing so. “Yes, Obadiah.” No. And she never intended to learn it because her emotions defined her entire being.

Bending forward, the Stark leaned her forehead heavily against the divider and closed her eyes. How was she supposed to withstand the coming years with this man right behind her back to watch every single step of hers? Always peeking over her shoulders, always demanding, always hateful? It was a question the Stark just couldn’t answer.

I guess I have to see for myself.

The thought made her even more nauseous. Taking a deep breath, [Y/N] tried to control her voice as best as possible. “Why do you call, anyway? Is something happening in the company? Something I have to deal with?” She just wanted to end this damn call and go about her day without having to think about his constant presence on her back. But Obadiah was hard to forget – in the worst possible meaning. “I only wanted to remind you of your responsibilities for next week. After the events in New York, you will fly straight to DC and meet with the Secretary of Defense to go through the new contracts. After what happened overseas…,” [Y/N] shut her eyes as tightly as she could to prevent the tears from falling down her cheeks, “Well, they want more to protect the country. They need more. I don’t care about your moral standards, [Y/N], and I never will because it is not in the interest of Stark Industries – and you have to think the same way if you want ongoing success for this company.” His voice was stern, borderlining to being pushy, and she almost let the retort, instantly forming in her head, out of her mouth.

Almost.

Her index finger slowly traced over the seam of the backseat, felt the ruth material underneath it, and tried to focus on this feeling. The Stark could almost imagine that the seam belonged to one of Tony’s suits, and she grabbed his arm at one of the many events they attended as the unbreakable Stark Duo. She always stroked over the soft fabric and felt along the seam to occupy her mind while anxiety rushed through her entire body.

“I’ll reach out as soon as the contract is signed,” was all she could push out of her mouth, and gazed out the window. “I have to go. Don’t wanna be too late.” Not even waiting for another response, [Y/N] ended the call and pushed the phone back into the bag. That was her own way of showing rebellion against this man. It was a small act, nearly childish, but she didn’t care.

It got less and lesser of what she cared for.

"You can do this. You can do this." The mumbling stopped for a second. Thoughts ran through her head at lightning speed. "You have to do it." This one suited her much better because only a single thread held her composure up, and without it, she would be lost. But losing herself was most definitely not an option, neither now nor at any other point in her life. Not since her brother never came back from his supposedly short trip to Afghanistan and back to Malibu within seventy-two hours. But he never came back, and instead, Rhodey had called and told her everything that had happened and anything they knew – which was basically nothing at all.

Weeks had passed since then, and everyone expected her to function properly, and she did. Barely, but she managed to push through every obstacle and even managed to get a hold of the books and responsibilities of being the head of Stark Industries. They had given her a crash course in finances, the games the board loved to play, and literally anything else that could be of use in the long run. Nobody believed that Tony Stark would ever come back home, and even [Y/N] had lost every ounce of hope.

Sighing, she opened her eyes again as soon as one of the backdoors got unlocked, and Pepper Potts slid into the backseat of the car. The smell of freshly made coffee and some unidentifiable food, packed in a brown paper bag, wafted straight into her nostrils, and the Stark inhaled the tempting aroma. The redhead smiled proudly, and both - the cup of coffee and the food – found their respectable way into her hands.

"I thought you could use something to eat and something to wake you up a bit more. Another sleepless night?" [Y/N] nodded, almost shyly and embarrassed, before raising the cup to her lips and taking the first sip of liquid energy. The car pulled back into the steady traffic of New York City, and with another tired sigh, she let her head fall against the window, her eyes locked on the passing streets and buildings. "'M not even sure when I last slept. Three days ago? Four? What day is today, anyway?" She was an utter mess, but Pepper seemed to not mind at all. Quite the opposite. The woman understood her to an extent others couldn't muster even if they'd try really hard.

Another sip followed her words. "It's Thursday. I wish I could tell you about the relaxing weekend lying ahead of you, but it's more the opposite," Pepper explained, reading in her little notebook she had started shortly after [Y/N] had taken over the reins. The Stark shrugged, unimpressed. "Didn't think it would be any different. What's up this week?" She swallowed another sip of the searing hot coffee, but the heat helped her shake up her mind. How she hated to think this slow. It felt like a handicap in every possible meaning.

The sound of turned pages mixed with the cars' engines, the horns echoing through the skyscraper valleys, and the angry screaming of even angrier cab drivers. She had missed the buzzing city that was New York, and the thought of going back to Malibu alone made her stomach turn in unpleasant ways. She should just stay here, in this very city where she grew up and which was the closest to be called home.

"Metro-General invited you to one of their dinner. They said, and I'm quoting, "If a Stark is in the city and already visiting us, we have to invite them." Mr. Stane said that it would be best if you'd attend because the press is getting restless." [Y/N] scoffed indignantly. One of her hands racked through her hair, probably ruining it in the process, but she just didn't care enough to stop. "I presume he meant the board is getting uneasy with me because they think I lost my mind or some shit. But to be honest, I don't care. I'm going there because I care for the hospital, their patients and because there, I can grant them even more money. I don't need it for myself, so people can work with it and try to change the world." Uneasiness fueled her body, and the Stark fidgeted in the seat before throwing her head back at the headrest.

"What else?" She asked, already exhausted, and downed the coffee in one go. Pepper started to turn pages again, and [Y/N] let her head roll to the other side to watch her assistant carefully. "Mr. Stane accepted an invitation for a gala in honor of…" The redhead didn't even have to finish the sentence for her to know its ending.

"No."

Nothing more came out of her mouth before turning to the window and staring out again. The New Yorker sky opened its clouds, and the rain started to patter on car roofs, the street, the sidewalk, and the people out there, trying to get to their respective destinations as dry as possible. How absolutely-fucking fitting. [Y/N] wanted to leave this car, walk in the rain, and feel alive again. Maybe. Maybe not. She didn't know if that was still a possibility for her. Nevertheless, running away from events held in honor of her brother seemed like a pleasant thing to do.

Pepper sighed silently, closed the little notebook and rubbed soothingly over [Y/N]’s shoulder closest to her. "I'm talking to Mr. Stane about it."

He will drag me there, anyway. I don't have a say in a single matter anymore, she thought darkly and closed her stinging eyes again. The lack of sleep was something she couldn't control, just like her entire life at this point. She felt sick, sickly tired, and exhausted to such an extent that the woman had to ask herself what was waiting for her in a week or two. A delirium? Death itself? Whatever it would be:

Everything was better than this state of scarcely existing.

It had been way easier to get out of the car than firstly expected. [Y/N] has never been this proud of herself in her life, and after that, she even enjoyed the tour through the hospital. Where Tony had funded and supported his preferred causes, she had used her money to fund schools, hospitals, and research facilities. He had always told her how much she resembled their mother with this trait, and the younger Stark felt strangely connected to the woman she had spent too little time with before her death. Even now, two decades later, she felt guilt creeping up inside her while thinking about the woman she had adored with her whole body.

"Miss Stark!" – "Mrs. Stark is here!" – "Where?! Let me through, Poppy!" – "But I want to say Hello too, Darrell!" – "I'm sicker than you, you have to let me go first!"- "That's so stupid, Lily. You gave me your ice cream yesterday because we decided I was sicker than you."

The overly excited voices of even more excited kids echoed through the hallways as [Y/N] walked next to the Head of Pediatrics. A smile crept up on her lips – the first genuine smile in weeks – and she chuckled to herself as soon as she saw the waiting kids. Small hands waved in her direction after rounding the last corner, and the surgeon next to her grinned. "Ever since we knew you were coming, they couldn't sit still…" One of the nurses laughed. "Or stop talking, for that matter," she added and accompanied them over to the room they usually use for her visits.

"You're up early, guys," greeted [Y/N] with a grin tucking at her lips before embracing the first child with her arms. "Beth. I really have hoped I wouldn't see you here again." The blonde girl looked up at her and smiled widely despite her situation. "Mama took me home after you last visited, but I haven't felt well the last few weeks, and she thought it would be better if I'm back here before starting the new cycle of chemo." The Stark softly pushed blonde strands behind the girl's ears and nodded understandingly. "Well, I'm happy to see you again, love." The girl grinned and went back to her plushy chair.

She went from child to child, greeting familiar faces, learning new names, and got filled with all the latest gossip there was within the group of kids. It felt like another home, and having an impact on all their lives was an honor the Stark thought she would never feel in her life. But these children looked up to her; she was their role model in every way possible. It was an experience one had to make to understand fully the importance of having influence and exerting said influence. What her brother had done with his portion of influence – and what she carried on for the sake of her family name – wasn't to her liking, but she understood why he had done it. She wanted to be different, maybe even better, and she didn't intend to disappoint these kids. She never wanted to witness how the spark in their eyes slowly died down.

Laughter filled the room and the adjacent corridor, and hurriedly small, running feet went from one end to another. "We got the homework from everyone!" Marlin announced with a proudly swelled chest while sorting the small stack of papers and books by names. "You really want to check every homework?" The small voice of one of the new girls asked, and the Stark nodded, smiling. "Of course, love. That's part of why I'm here." They didn't need to know that this was a straight-up lie because the grinning faces were reward enough. Who could claim their homework was corrected by [Y/N] fucking Stark?

They are happy, and I have something to do and occupy my mind. Win-win, as I would call it.

But the peace and happiness got destroyed only heartbeats later by a demanding, arrogant voice – and, of course, it was one of humanity's greatest gifts. "Could someone explain why these children are up here and not on their unit, inside their rooms and beds?" The Stark didn't even bother to turn around to face the doorway to their little sanctum of comfort and happiness. Instead, she started to go through the worksheets and tasks the kids had to do this week. "Care to explain why you have to yell over the entire floor? Nobody in here is deaf." [Y/N] was never too proud to counter someone's stupidity and audacity. The kids chuckled in unison, even though some of them seemed to be intimidated by this man that she had to ask herself which specimen blessed her with its replaceable presence. He almost sneered in her back after taking a deep breath. "The audacity you own." Now, [Y/N] just had to laugh and shook her head before finally spinning in her chair to face him.

"Oh, now it's me who owns the audacity. Who yelled through the entire floor and demanded answers only seconds ago? It certainly wasn't me, Doctor." She mocked him with his title, and everyone in their close proximity who had ears and a brain knew that. Seeing his face twisting and twitching to maintain his composure was too amusing to regret anything at all. Before the black-haired man could open his mouth another time, a woman emerged next to him and pulled at his arm.

"Stop with whatever thought you wanted to throw her in the face, Stephen. That's [Y/N] Stark," she whisper-yelled in his ear, but the Stark could hear every single word of it. She leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs, and smiled mockingly. "A real pleasure, Doctor Strange." She knew him. Of course, she knew him because it was her checks who funded his research about neurogenesis. She admired him for his works but certainly not for his character and attitude, which always showed through his demeanor, especially during medical talks and interviews. It was strange how much he reminded her of her brother in that matter. And it was a tragedy that another member of nature’s most insufferable creation was not only the most insufferable person she ever had the pleasure to read about – he, of course, got the full-blow of handsomeness.

I may not like his character, but I can still look very un-respectfully.

Realization seemed to hit him like a truck at full speed, and he cleared his throat. "Miss Stark, I…" But she interrupted him straight away. "Quit whatever you wanted to do or say. You don't need to charm me or whatever bullshit you always do to get what you want. I'm not interested in your character, attitude, or whatever others need to see if they are thinking about giving their money away. I'm not them. I don't fund to get a dividend at the end of each quarter." People's ways to gain more money were so restricted and naturally narrow that [Y/N] didn't understand them. She didn't want to even try. Strange cocked one of his dark eyebrows. "Why do you invest, then?" The woman started to grin. "Wrong term. Investment people want to get something in return, mostly money, but people who fund research? Well, we're not interested in money because we already own enough. I can't speak for the intention of others, but my intentions are simple." Another nonchalant shrug. "I want to see results. Life-changing things. Approaches never in existence before, so we can create a better world for those who have to live longer than we have to, and especially for those who come after. Simple as that."

It was in her blood, these life-changing wishes and approaches. Once, a long time ago, her father helped to shape the last century, and since a few weeks back, her brother had shaped their century. Well, he had started to do so. And maybe now it was her turn to get up and see if the footsteps of the men in her family were too big for her.

Or too small.

The corner of her mouth twitched at that thought.

The doctor looked dumbfounded, and [Y/N] could imagine that this occurred little to never, so she had achieved what she wanted. "Well, Doctor Strange. I don't wanna keep you away from your work any longer. Mr. Hawthorne already got the check for the next quarter, so… research away." And with that, she spun in her chair again and dedicated her full attention to the kids again. But they just stared in awe at the woman in front of them and couldn't close their mouths anymore.

"I wanna be just like her someday."

Never in his life was Doctor Stephen Strange this furious as he was in the moments after leaving the presence of none less than [Y/N] fucking Stark. His insides burned; his mind raced a million miles per second. He strode through the doctor's lounge, the sound of the boiling coffee machine in the background, and the door opened to let Christine inside. At the sight of his state, she closed it quickly and grabbed herself a mug to pour some coffee.

"She is even wittier in person."

Strange seethed and stirred profusely in his own mug. "Witty?! She owns the biggest forsaken attitude I ever saw on a person!" The other doctor hid the eye roll and smiled behind the mug full of steaming coffee. "Sure." Stephen shook his head and leaned his hip against the kitchenette counter. "And this person is giving me money. I can't believe it." Christine now openly rolled her eyes and nudged his side. "She is funding your research, to be precise. She isn't paying you, Stephen. What is wrong?" She always knew if something was off, and the Strange sighed before answering. "Nothing, she just… she gets under one's skin, I guess."

If he were honest with himself, Stephen would admit how intimidating and unique the Stark woman was and how she threw him off his tracks. He wasn't one for crushes because he had way too much and too important work on the outline of his life, but she… Well. She was different. He had to admire her point of view on certain aspects of life, but he would never admit more than that. Not only because of his moral standards but also because this woman was the most insufferable being he had ever met in his life.

Christine nodded slowly. "Maybe you two would get along pretty well if you'd meet each other someday again. She seemed… a bit tense, but her brother just disappeared, so that's totally understandable." The Strange hadn't thought about that, but it didn't concern him, so why should he think about it now? But his brain had other plans, and Christine knew that, judging by the smile on her face. "I think I heard someone talking about her being at the dinner tomorrow night," she grinned and lifted one of her eyebrows. The man rolled his eyes. "I don't know what you're trying to suggest, Palmer."

Of course, he knew. He had known this woman since college. And maybe - the slightest maybe - he possibly had thought about going there and talking to [Y/N] Stark since Christine had brought up the possibility of it.

But that would never happen because the universe had other plans for them.

[Next Chapter]

Comments, reblogs and likes are much appreciated! Lots of love and thanks for reading! If you want to join the taglist, please reach out and let me know!

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@mischiefmanaged71 @poor-unfortunate-soul-85

[lixxen]

Hello! I for one would be very interested in a government assigned gender/sexual orientation list. I am making grabby hands at you and this concept - 🧦

Bet!

So, I will break them up by groupings and titles under-the-cut. It is a LOT.

Mild No Way Home Spoilers

Before I go into this though, here is a disclaimer:

None of the orientations I am about to list out are canon. Some of them ARE canon, but with my thoughts added on top of them. Only very specific characters have canon sexualities and gender orientations that have been confirmed (like Yelena being AroAce and Deadpool being pansexual).

If you do not agree with me, that is your own opinion. You are allowed to disagree, but please do not attack me over mine and your opinions. As a trans queer this is purely based off of my perception of the characters and experiences within the LGBT community (online and in person, I used to be heavily involved in my very big city's LGBT community and official organization).

So I must state again, these are purely MY OPINION. You are allowed to disagree. But do not be an asshole about it.

EDIT: This took me two hours.

----

IRON MAN:

Rhodey: A CisHet ally. He himself doesn't fully understand the spectrum that is gender, but he does believe that everyone should be who they are. He is also a firm believer that trans people should be in the military, as long as their shots/form of hormones is not effected by their deployment. If you cannot get to your hormones due to your placement, he will remove you and put you in something that is similar, but gives you access.

Tony: He is a Bisexual Cis man with a preference for women. He was heavily transphobic and homophobic as a child because his father was around men who were like that. Tony realized later on that he was in the wrong. Then eventually he realized he liked men also, but was never open about it. That is why he knows there is a smaller chance of him having children out there. Because he didn't only fuck women. He would debate his gender for a while, especially in college, but end up being cis.

Pepper: Bisexual Cis woman, no preference. She is a great ally to trans people and her fellow women. One of the first things she did when she took over for SI is get her staff more diverse; but in the sense that trans and gay people wouldn't get jobs in their field if they were open back then. So she hired them instead. Tony 100% agreed and fist fought an exec over it.

Justin Hammar: This man is Bisexual and cis. There is no straight bone in his body but he is very good at disguising it. He had the hots for Tony AND Rhodes. And Pepper. In all honesty, this man just wants to fu-

Happy: Our CisHet ally. He genuinely HATES transphobes and homophobes. The second he heard someone talk shit about Peter (See Peter One). He dated a trans woman during the 90's and he protected her with all of his energy.

Pierce: Homophobic. That's all I am going to say.

Ross: Ross is CisHet and is for equality in the way that he will treat you like a piece of meat in the same way. Men don't get a pass because they're men. Outside of work though, his daughter is Bi so he's an ally for her.

Obadiah: CisHet (Derogatory). He realized Tony was bisexual towards the end, before the whole Mandarin deal, and he forced Tony to come out because he kept bringing it up.

Howard: CisHet, but actually an ally. He genuinely had to hide that he was an ally because business men were horrible and he couldn't risk his reputation. He was a bleeding heart when he knew Peggy and Steve. He knew the second that Steve wanted to get Bucky that they weren't straight. That's why he fought so hard. Strong ally with his Bi wife.

Ultron: Hot take: AroAce, but gender fluid. Ultron would abolish gender.

Maria: Cis but bisexual. She took one look at her baby boy and knew he would turn out like her. He always took after her when it genuinely mattered as a human being. He may be like his day, in a playboy and smarts way, but he has her heart. She would have quietly fought for gay rights.

Morgan: This is based off of the deleted Endgame scene and my personal opinion if the 2015 style fics happened and she grew up with Peter. Morgan would be our pansexual gender questioning queen. She would question her gender for years and then end up settling with female.

Jarvis: Jarvis is male presenting Agender and Aro/Ace.

Friday: AroAce, but female presenting Agender.

Harley Keener: Bisexual and cis. He would take one look at Peter Parker and literally be obsessed.

Captain America:

Steve: Bisexual, male leaning, cis. In all honesty, he would probably identify as gay once he's in the modern time. He would have realized that he idolized Peggy and loved the idea of her. She was the only woman that he loved. Sharon reminded him of Peggy.

Peggy: She is our bisexual, male leaning, cis woman. I don't have much to say about Peggy in all honesty.

Sharon: CisHet ally. She is upset that Steve doesn't reciprocate her feelings, but then sees him and Bucky together. Then Sam. And then she meets Karli and her brat squad. She's tired.

Thor/Loki:

Thor: Your biggest CisHet ally. He jokingly becomes the Lesbian god but not because he calls himself that, but because he is given that title by the lesbians. Thor drinks RESPECT JUICE.

Valkyrie: Non-Binary female presenting Lesbian/NBLW. That's all I have to say.

Jane: Jane is a CisHet who had said slurs when in college, but she's an ally now. I love Jane but please-

Frigga: Frigga is a gender-fluid bisexual. She presents as female because she's AFAB and is comfortable. She is gender-fluid in the same sense Loki is.

Gransmaster: Hi in this essay I'll explain why every character Jeff Goldblum plays is either gay or NB and Pan-

Heimdall: CisHet Ally

Hela: This woman is a bisexual MENACE. She fucked at LEAST one of the Valkyries.

Darcy: Bisexual she/they. Thats the post.

Mobius: Our king is a Bisexual Demisexual who is Cis. This man literally studied Loki for YEARS and fell in love with him in a parasocial way. He's lucky that Loki was into him also. (Loki is way too into the fucking dom/sub shit they had gotten into at the TVA and he counts it as foreplay. Morbius can't tell if he's joking).

Loki: Bisexual Gender fluid. This dude is literally a "I will be whatever gender I feel that day and will present that way. I will fuck literally ANYONE". But he is most comfortable with male because he finds comfort in normality sometimes and it reminds him of his early childhood before he learned how to shapeshift. It isn't from him simply rejecting his gender, but he wishes he could redo his childhood and accept himself for what he was. A child who did not fit into any boxes.

Odin: CisHet. He is borderline transphobic, but Frigga literally beat him out of that.

Sylvie: Sylvie is a TransHet. She hated being stuck as a boy and the second her mother taught her how to change forms, she chose female. She hates the idea of being male and is VERY aggressive towards other variants because of this. She is the type of trans person who will get overly aggressive. She is not a good person in the LGBT community. She is too aggressive and gives her and the Loki's a bad name because of this. But its okay. She ends up T4T with a hunter after having a fling with Renslayer and realizing she HATED it.

Hunter B-15: Cis and Lesbian. She has a PHATTY crush on Renslayer. She was Hunter C-20's girlfriend at one point in her original timeline. Their Nexus Event was getting together.

Hunter C-20: Trans Lesbian. She was in love with C-20, who kept her being trans under wraps. Trans hunters aren't uncommon, but the hunters are still people and jerks.

Renslayer: Cis and bisexual. This woman is a menace to society and you'll never know she is bisexual until she tells you. You just think she's homophobic until she goes "you were just gonna think I was HOMOPHOBIC?????" when you call her out for making gay jokes.

Black Widow:

Natasha: Surprisingly, Natasha is unlabeled. But you know she isn't CisHet. You can tell she's Ace though.

Yelena: AroAce. You will drag that away from me only if it is from my cold and dead hands. She is Non-Binary, but female presenting. She/They if you feel me.

Taskmaster: AroAce and Cis.

Melina: Bisexual and Ace. Cis. She would kill anyone who is homophobic or transphobic.

Alexei: CisHet, a confused ally.

Bruce Banner: Bisexual and gender queer. He/they pronouns. Same for the Hulk.

Hawkeye:

Clint (MCU): CisHet. He is a great ally though!

Clint (comics): Bleeding heart Bisexual. Gender queer. This man literally has no idea what gender he is, but he goes by He/Him because it is EASY and he fits best there. He dated Bucky briefly and they had the BEST relationship. Sadly, Clint is a human dumpsterfire.

Kate: Cis and questioning. She thinks that she only likes guys, but girls are so fucking cute and the girl in martial arts club, what was her name? Chavez? She's very cute.

Maya: You would ask her and she would plainly respond with "none of your business." She would be bisexual and ace.

Jack: Our Trans Bisexual king. In the comics he is Bi/Cis, but in the show? Bi/Trans. I will die on this hill.

Elenor: She is genuinely one of the biggest CisHet ally's you will ever meet. She can smell Kate isn't straight.

Kazi: That man is agender but presents as Cis because he is AFRAID. Fisk knows though and absolutely would fight anyone who asks. He's pansexual, btw.

Doctor Strange:

Strange: CisHet who you'd think is very homo/transphobic but he isn't. He actually is very loving and will use science and whatever psychology he has absorbed for fun to prove that you're valid.

Wong: CisHet, but he is also an ally. He dated a dude once though. He had fun but then the dude came out as trans. Wong was in a relationship with a woman this whole time. Fuck you if you think he dated a dude. (Wong's words, not mine.)

Ancient One: Agender who only dates women. She accepts being called She to make it easier on everyone and actually prefers it in the end. She's kind weird like that.

Kaecilius: He's played by Mads Mikkelssen. I want you to guess what I am about to say. He's fucking gAY. Gender queer and GAY. This man is into DUDES and had a very loose concept of gender. Just enough concept to be like "I'm man."

Christine: Our local girlboss is actually demi and cis. She loves Stephen Strange because he crawled so fucking far up her ass in annoyance that she finally broke down and got to know her. She slowly felt herself getting feelings, which she didn't know what to do with at first. But hey, it opened her up to be more social in a.... letting people get close way. That's how she got her current husband. He crawled so far up her ass also in the same way because... she let him. That's big.

Black Panther:

T'Challa: CisHet Ally. He is a great man and puts time into finding out what each gender and sexuality means.

Okoye: CisHet Ally who is just like T'Challa.

Shuri: Shuri is Cis, but she is pan. She literally is the one to introduce T'Challa to LGBT matters. She is currently working on top/bottom surgery research.

Spider-Man:

Mysterio: CisHet who goes to gay bars to pick up bi chicks. Specifically bi chicks. He is respectful enough to not hit on the WLW. He usually gets invited to gay bars, but he will sometimes go by himself. We got lost in translation, maybe I asked for too muCH-

Connors: AroAce Agender. We wouldn't have these concepts if we were all lizards.

Electro: A STRONG CisHet Ally. This man has had so much in his life happen that he has been with enough people to understand gender and sexuality. He has experimented and found out that anything else isn't for him.

MJ (Raimi): Bi Wife Energy. She/Her (sometimes they)

MJ (MCU): She/They bisexual. She will literally out talk anyone who says shit about gender and sexuality. She will literally come for their throats. Gender is a social construct to her and she wishes to obliterate it alongside misogamy.

MJ (ITSV): She/They pan. This MJ has lived her life and since her and Peter B were on and off, she had time to do it. She feels comfortable in her body.

Gwen (TAS): CisHet. She is a good ally though!

Gwen (ITSV): She/They bisexual! They like they more, but she is very much adequate. They come to terms with their body, but in the end they don't care about what's on the outside of their body. They believe that gender is a construct also, so why care?

Peter B Parker: He/They queer. He doesn't like to label himself. He isn't straight, but isn't.... bisexual or gay. If that makes sense. Peters aren't straight cut like that.

Harry Osborn: Gay and Cis. No elaborations here, your honor.

Miles Morales: Bisexual gender queer. This kid doesn't know what he wants to be, but he knows that in the end, Miles is Miles. He/She/They.

Ned: Heteromantic asexual. We stand him tbh. A he/him who doesn't have a concept of gender in the end.

Sandman: CisHet ally. His kid ends up being a lesbian and he loves her.

Octavius: Bisexual agender. But specifically agender after the whole tentacle controlling. He/They.

Osborn: Bisexual and Cis. You wouldn't be able to tell until you walk in on him, his wife, and Octavius making out-

May: Bisexual and cis. She is a big ally and makes sure her work effects as many LGBT kids she can reach. She also really loves Yuri! On Ice, if that says anything.

Peter One: As much as I love transmac HC, I am torn. On one hand I'd like to say he is. But tbh.... Peter would be He/She/They. A gender fluid, almost exactly like Loki! But he prefers to present male. You will actually never find out what he was born as because literally no one besides May know. You're pretty sure he's AMAB. But Ned says some things that makes you change your mind. He doesn't want people fetishizing him, so he just... doesn't say. So people just accept that he's a gender fluid male presenting person. But Peter does stare at himself in the mirror for hours at home, staring into those eyes and wishing that in some other universe he could be something else. Anything but himself. He gets lost in the thought until something snaps him out of it.

Peter Two: Bisexual FTM. I am putting my foot down because he is the OPITAMY of what passing is. Like, as much as I kin Peter One, Peter Two is what a FTM wants to be in passing. He might not be attractive to some people, but he has 100% embodied what it means to be passing. And I'm proud of him.

Peter Three: Bisexual and gender questioning (he is born intersex with more male presenting and his family chose to perform a surgery to make him male presenting when he was born). He understands that he is very attractive and he is the epitome of what people can strive to be. But... that isn't what he wants. When he meets One and Two, he loves them. Because they know who they are. That's why he doesn't think he's amazing. He has a bad relationship with gender because of this. He has trauma.

Flash: Listen up kids because I LOVE Flash. He would be a bisexual cis kid who is NOT out. He would be in love with Peter Parker and envies him. That's why he obsesses over Peter. He tells himself that he hates Peter instead of love. If his parents ever find out, he's dead meat. He has zero feelings about not being Cis. He knows he's cis. But Peter... he envies Peter SO MUCH. At first, yeah. He doesn't like Peter. But by the time Far From Home happens, he just wants to know Peter better but can't backtrack. By No Way Home... he genuinely is trying. He wants to backtrack. He wants Peter, but he knows Peter loves MJ so he is fine with just being friends.

Toomes: CisHet Ally.

Liz: Cis Pan.

Betty: An overly confident CisHet Ally. She will do anything for the LGBT community.

Venom: Agender, but male presenting. He is not asexual like his species. He likes people in general and is a major monster fucker.

Eddie: Cis, but he's bisexual.

Annie: Bisexual trans. I love her.

Dan: CisHet clueless ally.

FATWS:

Bucky(MCU): Gay Cis. He would bring two lesbians out to places so they could go on dates and he'd be their protection. Steve would unknowingly go along with it. He is more closeted and quiet about it. I would say that he would have a long talk with Zemo (once they were on speaking terms) and they would work out their problems together. I would go on a ramble about how their relationship would be very weird because its not dating, but its something like that. But he and Sam would 100% date on and off, because they need couples counseling. Zemo would be during the biggest gap, to fill the void. It is mutual in all honestly. This would be years after FATWS and if Zemo wasn't taken by Wakanda.

Bucky(Comics): Gay and Cis also, but he is VERY fucking out there. He is not afraid of his sexuality. Him, Sam, and Clint would be in a poly relationship until Clint fucks up. Then it would go to Bucky and Sam. Natasha would be before Clint BTW.

Sam: Bisexual, woman leaning. Cis. He in all honesty doesn't talk about it and goes for broken men. Women, he finds the epitome of the perfect women. But Sam isn't perfect.

Walker: Sigh. This CisHet man can't fucking shut up.

Zemo: Bisexual He/They. I love this man. He would have the best grasp on He/They energy.

Contessa: Cis Pan. She fucks.

Karli: Genderqueer straight. She doesn't know herself.

WandaVision:

Wanda: Bisexual Cis. She's pretty comfortable with what she is.

Vision: Mans is heteromantic and asexual. Agender, but he choses to present and go by he/him.

Agatha: Cis Lesbian. She doesn't see the need for men.

Pietro: Mans is CisHet, but an ally.

Monica: A cis lesbia, like her momma.

Ralph: Trans Bisexual. Mans is just living his life tbh.

Daredevil:

Kingpin: This man is cis, but he doesn't understand romantic attraction. He doesn't. You could label him, but in all honesty it isn't worth your time. He IS an ally though. He also loves Wesley and Vanessa. But in two separate ways. I wrote about this before.

Matt: Bisexual Cis. He has spent many days hating himself for being bisexual as a teenager, but ended up realizing that everyone has sin. He doesn't go to hell because of his sexuality. He goes to hell for what he has done. He also just wanted to kiss Foggy when he was in college. But then Elektra happened.

Foggy: Our He/They bisexual. This man,,, loves Matt Murdock. He was the only person to SEE Matt Murdock in the way that truly.... had understanding. People liked Matt, yeah. But he's hot. Foggy knew him like he knew himself.

Karen: Bisexual and Cis. She prefers dudes, but we've all seen her backstory. She had a girlfriend or two and she misses them a lot.

Frank: Pan and cis. This man wants to rock Matt Murdock's life. But also, he loves Karen like he loved his wife.

Claire: CisHet. She's a great ally.

Elektra: A feral she/they who is aromantic and bisexual. She doesn't actually love Matt in the way he loves her.

Wesley: Gay.

Vanessa: Bisexual and AMAB. She in all honesty, is who I would want to be if I was female.

Shang-Chi:

Shang-Chi: Bisexual Cis. He had a boyfriend or two in college. But he usually leans for females.

Katy: She/They who is WLW. She hates labels because sometimes she likes dudes, but sometimes she doesn't. Also isn't her style.

Wenwu: CisHet. I don't know how to go about this man, but he has bi wife energy.

Xialing: Cis Lesbian. She is too powerful for me to describe.

[peterwithb]

I realize it's not at all a hot take, but something I have to get off my chest: obadiah stane is a manipulative piece of shit and I hate i hate i hate I hate him and mcu tried but never managed to write anyone creepier than him, i can't fully describe how awful and scary that man is, Tony deserves a lifetime of hugs and cheeseburgers

[kimannhart]

something traumatic happened to me today and i didn't know how to cope so here's a horror/thriller-esque fic that's based off of a short film script i wrote. hope you enjoy this 2.1k fic.

also since this is based off of a film script, the style in this fic is sort of different than how i usually write.

this fic is also on ao3

~~

A thumb presses down on the remote control. The sound of various channels fill the room. 

The channel surfing stops. 

“... no evidence of a body being found, Maria Stark, a local blacksmith, has been legally declared dead after her car was found crashed and burned late last evening. A memorial service is to be held by Stark’s sister.”

The television clicks off.

A WEEK LATER

Shiny, multiple robotics trophies are displayed proudly on the built-in bookshelves. Only a few of the shelves have framed photographs sitting on them. Above the mantle of the fireplace is a framed family painting of a mother and her teenage son.

Tony, a mere eighteen-year-old, has his hair neatly combed and washed. He is dressed to the nines in a black suit. Tony is sitting alone on the tufted sofas. Though, the distant sound of heels clicking on the floor can be heard in the background. 

A glum look paints Tony’s face as he stares up at the painting of his mother. Tears start to fill Tony’s eyes. He clasps his eyes shut, not wanting to let the tears fall. Tony licks his dry lips and lets out a shaky breath.

The clicking of heels gets louder, moving closer to Tony before the sound promptly stops.

A thin, well manicured hand grabs onto Tony’s shoulder.

Tony looks back to see his Aunt Peggy, who is dressed in a conservative style black dress. Peggy’s hair is styled in a simple tight bun. While her face shows minimal makeup, her lips are painted in a daring red. A black birdcage veil is pinned into her hair. 

Peggy gives Tony a sad soft smile. She gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I need to head back to the house soon, darling. I have to go and finish setting up. Do you want to ride with me?”

Tony shakes his head, “No, thanks.” He glances back towards the painting, his eyes lock with the painting version of his mother’s eyes. His gaze was not faltering. “I want to stay a little bit longer. I promise I won’t take too long, Aunt Peggy... I just need a few more moments.” Tony turns to look back at his aunt.

Peggy nods in understanding. She presses a chaste kiss on Tony’s forehead and leaves. 

The moment that Tony hears the front door click shut, he slumps back into the couch. He lets out a sigh, and rubs a tired hand over his face. Tony still can’t process what’s happening. 

He gets up from the couch and walks quietly towards one of the shelves. Tony grabs a gold framed photograph of his mother holding him when he was a baby. Tony’s fingers gently graze the glass. A distant look appears in Tony’s eyes. It’s clear that he is stuck thinking about a particular moment. 

The chiming of a grandfather clock from the nearby hallway snaps Tony back to reality. He sets the photograph back in place. His eyes linger for a few more seconds on the photograph. “Thanks for everything, mamma,” he softly says.

Tony walks out of the living room and out of his home with a soft click of the door.

~~

The moment that Tony steps foot into his aunt’s home, he’s greeted to a blown up photo of his mother near the staircase. A gorgeous wreath stand is placed next to the photo. Tony looks around to see various people scattered downstairs, all of whom are having quiet conversations with one another to pass time as they wait for either Peggy or Tony to give a speech.

Tony mutters his thanks every now and then when people give their condolences.

He walks into the living room and tilts his head in curiosity when he spots a photo album sitting on the coffee table. Tony grabs it, sits on one of the single sofa chairs, and starts to flip through the album. He is surprised to see that the album contains photos of his mother and Aunt Peggy from their childhood. Some photos show the two of them posing in ridiculous outfits. Other photos show the two as teenagers in various candid moments.

Tony was about to close the photo album when he notices that one of the photos is slightly thicker than the others. 

He sets the album down onto his lap. Tony slips the photo out and realizes that one photo is stuck to another. Carefully, he separates them. 

Tony notices that the hidden photo is a family photo. The photo is of his mother, Aunt Peggy, his grandfather, and grandmother. The peculiar thing about this photo, though, is that someone seemed to have scratched out his mother’s face out of the photo. 

The clicking sound of a spoon on glass draws Tony’s attention.

Tony looks up and sees his Aunt Peggy standing in the middle of the living room. He quickly places the photos back in their rightful place, shuts the album, and sets it back onto the coffee table.

Tony focuses his attention to his aunt, curious to know what she is going to say.

Peggy smiles as she patiently waits for everyone to settle down and focus their attention on her. “Hi. Thank you all for coming, it means a lot to me,” she turns her head to look at Tony, “and I’m sure to Tony as well, that you’re all here. Your presence and condolences have been so comforting during this difficult time and have served as a reminder to me just how much impact that my sister had on others.” 

A wave of emotion crashes onto Peggy. She starts to get a bit choked up. Peggy clears her throat. “Maria was honestly one of the happiest people I have ever known. Every time she would walk into a room, it would immediately brighten up. She had an affectionate smile and laugh. She was smart and such a people’s person. Growing up I was always so jealous of her because not only was she kind and able to make friends so easily, she was...”

Tony’s attention dies, and he starts to drown out his Aunt Peggy’s words.

His eyes darted back to the photo album. His hands are itching to grab the album and take out the scratched out photo. Millions of questions about the photo run through Tony’s mind. Tony was so deep in thought that he doesn’t even realize that time has passed and that his Aunt Peggy has been calling his name.

“Tony!”

Finally, Tony snaps back to reality. 

“Huh?” he replies.

Peggy looks at Tony, concern gracing her face. “Are you okay, honey?”

Tony looks back to the photo album, wondering if he should bring up what he found, but decides against it. Tony nods his head. “Yeah, peachy keen, Aunt Peggy.” 

Peggy looks at Tony, her eyes squinting at him slightly, not really believing his words. 

“I promise,” Tony adds.

Peggy sighs and drops it. She wraps an arm around Tony’s shoulders. “Come on, I want you to meet some of your mother and I’s childhood friends. I’m sure they have a bunch of embarrassing stories about your mother from when we were about your age.”

At the mention of stories, Tony becomes captivated by the thought. He becomes so interested at the possible stories he could be told that he ends up forgetting about the scratched out photograph.

Peggy guides Tony out into the backyard to a small trio. 

“Your mother and I have been friends with them for ages. I think you’ll like them.”

The two stop in front of the trio.

“Hello,” Peggy greets. “I brought someone for you to meet!” 

The trio give their waves and say their respective hellos. 

Peggy points to a man, who seems to be in his early forties and is holding one of the snacks that Peggy set out. The man looks as if he could never hurt a fly. “This is Edwin.” She points to a woman. “And that’s Edwin’s wife, Ana.” Lastly, Peggy points to the last man in the trio. He is in his early forties as well, and looks harsh looking. He looks like someone you never would want to cross. “And that’s Obadiah, or Obie as we all call him.”

Tony waves shyly. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you all.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Tony... It is Tony, right?” Edwin asks.

Tony nods in confirmation. 

Ana throws him a kind smile. “I wish we met under better circumstances.”

“I do too,” Tony agrees.

An awkward silence falls among the group. All of them a bit unsure of what they should say. 

Peggy clears her throat. “I told Tony we had some stories about Maria.” 

Obie’s eyes light up. Edwin glances over to Obie and immediately knows what’s going to happen.

“Oh no. Are you going to tell him...” Edwin starts to say before getting cut off by Obie.

“Of course I have to tell that story!” Obie looks to Tony. “Say, Tony, did you know your mother was a bit of a wild troublemaker?” 

Tony eyebrows furrow. “Troublemaker? No way.”

Obie nods. “Yes she was!”

“Oh! Tell him about that time she got in trouble with the cops during our senior year of high school!” Ana jumps in. 

Edwin shakes his head and finishes the rest of his snack. “I’m going to need a bit more food if we’re going to be sharing stories for the rest of the night.”

As Edwin walks away, Tony immediately becomes enamored with the story that Obie begins to tell. 

~~

Hours go by and mostly everyone has left. The only people left in the house are Peggy, Edwin, Ana, Obie, and Tony.

Tony is sitting on the sofa, amused by their antics. His eyes land back on the photo album. He suddenly remembers the scratched out photo. Tony goes to grab the album, but Obie beats him to it.

“Oh, God,” Obie mutters. He looks over to Peggy. “Is this your family photo album? I haven’t seen this in years!” Obie starts to flip through the album, a nostalgic look on his face. However, the more photos he goes through, the more Obie’s demeanor changes. 

Obie starts to become irritated and bit angry. He tosses the album back to where it was. Obie chugs a drink from the bottle of tequila he had brought out earlier.

“Uh, are you okay, Obie?” Tony asks.

“I hated your mother.”

Obie’s words shock Tony.

“What?”

“Your mother was a piece of shit, truly.” Obie glances at Tony. “Did you mother ever tell you how she stole my girlfriend?” 

That stuns Tony into silence. 

“I guess that’s why I stopped being friends with her. So, when I heard the news that your mother died, boy was I so fucking joyful.”

Peggy, Ana, and Edwin are all listening carefully to Obie’s words. The three adults glance worriedly at each other.

Ana hesitantly looks back at Obie, afraid to ask what she knows is on everyone’s mind. “Obie? Did you... did you kill Maria?”

Obie’s eyes widen at the question. “What? No!”

Tony pulls out the scratched photo from the album and holds it up for everyone to see. “Did you do this?”

Obie gulps and his eyes dart back and forth between everyone in the room. “I.. Um...”

~~

The sound of gravel can be heard as someone walks up to a desolate cabin late at night. 

The inside of the cabin is dim, only being lighted up by the moonlight that peaks through the slits of the curtains. There are various pieces of furniture covered with sheets. 

The sound of the door being unlocked is heard. The door creaks open. A dark figure places the keys down onto the counter. The person turns the lights on. Once the lights are on, it reveals that the dark figure is actually Peggy. Her hair is still done in a tight bun, but the veil, dress, and lipstick she had on earlier are gone. Instead, she is wearing a black sweatshirt and leggings with athletic shoes.

Peggy heads over to a door and opens it. She turns the light of the basement and starts to walk down the stairs.  A no nonsense look is on her face. She walks towards something and stops. Peggy looks down. 

Peggy is looking at a thinner and raggedy version of her sister. Maria is tied up and gagged. Her clothing is dirty and torn.

Maria looks up at Peggy, all the fight is gone from her eyes.

“Now, this wouldn’t have happened if you just joined HYDRA like I did.” Peggy walks around Maria. “So, what are we going to do about you? Hmm?”

[ironxkid]

@hisfasttemper asked:  “  you  think  you  can  just  waltz  back  in  here  and  pretend  everything  is  okay  ?  ”

“That’s- that’s not at all what I- I think!” Carter snapped, spinning around to face Pietro - hurt gleaming in her gaze. She knew his anger was deserved. Knew she had broken his heart by leaving the way she did. And... she didn’t blame him if he hated her. She couldn’t blame him. But she just wanted him to leave her alone. It would hurt less if he just ignored her.

“I’m- I’m not asking you to- to forget what I did or- or to forgive me, Pietro! I had to- to leave! I- I needed to sort my- my own shit out, okay?! And- and if I stayed I- I only would’ve killed you!” How many times had she fallen apart in his arms before she had left? How many times had he been forced to pick up the pieces and put her back together? That hadn’t been healthy. And her trust in everyone around her had been completely shattered after discovering what Obadiah had done, and she just... couldn’t drag Pietro down with her. She had to find herself on her own.

[cherriontop]

“It needs to be bigger--better.” 

The lights were too bright, almost blinding as Peter stood on his little platform, trying to make out Tony’s form on the other side. There’s a constant chatter of people around him, but he drowns it out to focus on his heartbeat. It’s a little too fast, and normally it’s from excitement. But tonight it’s all nerves, thumping heavily in his chest. 

His lips and eyelids are caked in gold makeup and glitter, matching the golden leotard enclosing his body. It’s stretched to show off all his muscles, but all Peter can think about it how it probably shows his quickened breaths. Across the arena, Peter can make out the dark blue uniform that Tony wears, which he knows compliments his own with tiny gold stars. He remembers being fitted for his uniform, and the way that his eyes had met Tony’s for the first time that night. 

“We’re losing customers, and that means we’re losing money.” 

The music stars down below, startling Peter out of his thoughts. He counts quietly to himself before he jumps, hands closing around the bar hanging in front of him. His momentum pushes him forward, swinging towards Tony, who’s coming towards him in perfect unison. Peter lets go of the bar at the same time as he brings his legs up, doing a backwards flip in the air before he reaches out, catching onto Tony’s ankles. 

Peter’s knuckles are white as he holds on, knowing he will leave more bruises in addition to all the ones he’d left at practice. He swings with Tony, letting his mind do the counting to prepare for his next move. 

“Find a way to make it more thrilling.” 

They swing back in the direction they came, and Peter uses his arm strength to propel his body up, letting go of Tony’s ankles a second too late. His heart jumps to his chest, but he’s quick to reassure himself that it doesn’t matter. He does a little twirl in the air, hearing the gasps and applause of the crowd, before he stretches out towards the bar. 

His mind is screaming at him for the second he’s behind, but his hands are in reaching distance of the bar now. He tries to close his fingers securely around the bar, but it’s already swinging away from him. The one second he missed flashes before his eyes, his fingers unable to hold his weight as they slip from the bar. 

Peter’s fallen plenty of times during practice, proof by the rope burns on his arms and legs. But the owner demanded a more thrilling show to entice customers to continue coming and seeing the dynamic duo, and he’d taken away the literal safety net. The ground rushes up quickly to meet Peter, and he throws his arms up in defense. 

The ground is a solid presence that knocks the wind right out of Peter. He gasps for air, his arms crushed underneath his body as pain explodes down his front. Around him are gasps and a few screams, but his heart is beating so fast in his ears that he feels like he might pass out. 

He’s halfway into oblivion when soft hands reach him. Even in the state he’s in, Peter would recognize Tony’s hands anywhere. They’re gentle but firm as they grab his shoulder, easing him gently to turn around. Peter can’t stop the cry that leaves his lips as his weight is shifted onto his arm that throbs like a jackhammer. 

Tony comes into view quickly, his face a mask of worry as his hand cups Peter’s cheek. He’s talking, but Peter is half delirious with pain that he can’t make out his words. Tony checks him over quickly, and then he’s being jerked away by a bigger man in a suit. Peter recognizes him instantly as Obadiah, their boss. His face is red--almost as red as the tent--and he’s screaming at Peter. The noise hurts his ears, and he closes his eyes as if it would help. 

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. 

But when he opens his eyes, he’s on a scratchy cot, staring up at the red and white striped tent. He doesn’t groan like most people do waking up, but he lets his head roll to the side. Tony is sitting next to him, holding one of his hands between his own like it’s the most precious thing in the world. It only takes a second for one of those large hands to wander back to Peter’s face, holding it just as delicately. 

“You okay, baby?” He asks, the pad of his thumb rubbing gently over Peter’s soft cheek. Peter lets his eyes close again at the feeling, melting into Tony and his soft hand. There’s quiet around them again for a moment before Tony’s hand finds its way to Peter’s silky curls. Peter hums quietly and lets his eyes open again, brown meeting brown. “I’m so sorry, Pete.” 

“No,” Peter murmurs, squeezing Tony’s other hand, twining their fingers together. “I jumped late. My fault.” 

Tony chuckled softly, but it came out as more of a choked sound, eyes swimming with tears. “Obadiah is pissed. He wanted to throw you out, but I wouldn’t let him. Not without Bruce fixing you up first.” He pauses, his thumb swiping across Peter’s forehead. “You broke your arm when you landed on it. A couple ribs, too. Bruce says you could be out for six months. I think he went to tell Obadiah the news.” 

Peter let his eyes wander down to his casted arm for the first time, a displeased sound leaving his throat as he looked over the heavy cast. “Tony, I can’t- I can’t do my job with a broken arm. But I can’t. . . I can’t go somewhere else. Not without you.” 

“Shh,” Tony murmured, leaning forward and pressing his lips against Peter’s forehead. “Don’t worry about that right now. I’m just so glad you’re okay. It was so scary watching you fall like that. We never should have let Obadiah take away the net like that.” 

“But the people, and the money. We had-” 

The door flaps fly open as Obadiah storms in, his face dark. Before either performer can say a thing, he jabs his finger in Peter’s direction. “You-” spit flies from his mouth as he talks “-get out.” 

“Excuse me?” Tony responds faster than Peter can even sit up. 

“I said get out. I don’t want you in my circus anymore. Six months my ass. We’ll be out of business before then!” His face is red with anger, and Peter cowers back on the cot. Tony stood in front of the other boy protectively, glaring back at Obadiah with enough hate to make the man flinch back just a tiny bit. 

“You’re not going to fire Peter. The only reason he’s hurt is because you took away our net for the sake of money. This is your fault,” Tony argues, posture rigid and challenging. Peter carefully reached out with his good hand to fist the back of Tony’s uniform, bunching the material between his fingers. He can’t see Obadiah with Tony standing in front of him, but he can certainly feel the anger in the room, and he’s glad it’s not aimed directly at him. 

“My fault?” The man practically screams, stepping forward until he and Tony are practically nose to nose, jabbing his finger into Tony’s chest. Tony doesn’t even so much as flinch. “He’s the one who can’t do his job right and now I’m losing one of my top performers and a bunch of customers!” 

“You’re not going to fire him.” 

Tony’s voice is soft compared to Obadiah’s, an almost eerie calmness taking over. It only seems to anger the man more, and he shoved Tony forcefully out of his way. Peter squeaks when Tony tumbles to the side with the force and he’s left with Obadiah in his face, grabbing the front of Peter’s leotard in both hands and yanking him closer. 

“You’re fired,” Obadiah spits, only seeming to take pleasure in the way Peter cowers back. “You hear that, you little shit? You’re done here.” 

“Get your fucking hands off him,” Tony snarls, jumping to his feet quickly and shoving Obadiah away from the other boy. Obadiah stumbles a little, but he doesn’t retaliate. He’s already got his point across. Tony comes back over to Peter, checking him over briefly to make sure he was okay before he looks over at his boss. “I quit.” 

For the first time since he entered the room, Obadiah has a different expression than anger. Shock is written clearly on his face, and he almost seems frozen in place as Tony helped Peter to his feet, gently leading him towards the tent’s entrance. 

“You can’t-” Obadiah sputters, reaching out and grabbing Tony sharply by the elbow. “You can’t quit! You’re the main attraction!” 

Tony yanked his arm back, glaring daggers at the man as he continued to usher Peter out. “I can quit, actually. You just fired my only reason for staying.” Tony glances back at Obadiah one last time, and the baffled and frightened look on his face was worth it as the tent flaps fluttered shut. 

They’re ten feet from the tent when Peter speaks up. “Tony, that was awesome! I can’t believe you quit for me. Why would you do that?” 

Tony smiled, dropping an arm carefully around Peter’s shoulders to pull him closer into his side. “Because I love you, baby. You’re everything to me.” He glanced over at the other boy just in time to see the scarlet blush take over his cheeks. “Besides, Obadiah sucks.” Peter huffed in agreement, and Tony laughed, kissing the top of his head. They didn’t talk about where they would go now, or how they would get there, because for a few short minutes, they were freer than they’d ever been sailing through the air.

Beautiful moodboard that inspired this story was made by the wonderful @spiderboyspice who allowed me to write this piece. 

[give-me-back-my-rhodey]

Seeing Through the Masks - AUgust Day 18

Title: Seeing Through the Masks

Author: Purple_ducky00

Rating: Teen

Warnings: N/A

Card number: 016

Square Filled: Obadiah Stane of the @tonystarkbingo flash card

Pair: Bucky/Tony; background Steve/Sam/Sharon

Link: Read on AO3

Summary: Bucky is hired to be Tony Stark's bodyguard. Once annoyed by his task, he starts to see the real Tony Stark behind all the masks he wears

+++++++

Bucky groans. It’s only his second day working for Stark, and he’s ready to quit. As Stark’s bodyguard, he’s supposed to get a daily schedule and be updated if anything changes. This is the third time today that Stark changed the schedule and didn’t inform him.

 Stark is abrasive, unfriendly, and unable to shut up at all times. When Pepper brought Bucky down to Stark’s workshop to meet him, Stark went on a rant to her about how he doesn’t need a bodyguard, and the bodyguard will only get in his way.

 Pepper firmly told him “You need a bodyguard. The Board implemented it.”

 “Did they forget that I own more than half the shares?” Stark demanded. “And that I’m the fucking CEO? Without me and you, this business might not go anywhere?”

“Mr. Stark. Just humor the Board on this one. I know you think you’re invincible, but the truth is, none of us want to see you get hurt.” Pepper had said softly, and Stark acquiesced.

  He looked at Bucky and said. “Fine, but you do not get in my way at any time. Pepper, did you give him an NDA? I don’t want any of my plans stolen. I don’t know why you didn’t just tell Happy to guard me like before.”

 “You made Happy your driver,” Pepper reminds. “And now he’s the head of security at SI. Do you really want to downgrade him? And yes, I gave Mr. Barnes an NDA to sign, which he did. Do you think I’m an idiot?”

 “No. No.  Ok thank you, Miss Potts. I will call you if I need you. Barnes, is it? Just stand there and don’t get in my way.” Tony had dismissed them as he went back to his work.

 Mouthing the word ‘sorry’, Miss Potts led Bucky to the door. “So, we’ll get you a key card and everything. I’ll have Tony put a code for you on this door. I’m sorry. He’s prickly at first, but I’m sure he’ll warm up to you.”

 Now, Bucky just wants to strangle the man. Stark is talking to his CFO, Obadiah Stane. “No, it’s not going to work that way. Obie, Obie, listen to me. I know how these things work, trust me. You know Dad would have told you the same thing. I will take care of it, Obie. Leave it to me.”

 Stane gives Bucky the creeps. Something about him just seems… off. But Bucky grits his teeth at the arrogant tone in Stark’s voice. The call hangs out, and the man turns to him. “You, come help me with this.”

 Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Bucky walks up to Stark. “What do you want me to do?”

 “Hold up this piece of metal here. I’d ask the bots to do it, but they’d probably drop it, those little terrors.” He grins. Bucky’s not sure where Stark stands with the bots. He’s always insulting them, but he never gets rid of them. Bucky holds up the sheet of metal while the billionaire does a few experiments on it.

 In the end, Stark shakes his head and groans. “Won’t work. I told him.” Realizing that Bucky is still there, holding the metal, he waves at him. “Go ahead and put it down. I have to scrap it.”

 Bucky puts down the metal and walks back to his place by the wall. Stark ignores him for the rest of the day. Soon enough, it’s nighttime, and Tony dismisses him as he will not be going out tonight. Miss Potts thanks him for his work for the day and hands him the key card and badge that he will need going forward. He nods and walks out of the house.

 Meeting Steve, Sam, and Sharon at a restaurant, Bucky does not eat dinner until close to 930. Sam asks him about his new job, and Steve rolls his eyes. “No, you don’t wan…”

 “My new job?” Bucky smiles sharply, all teeth. “Let’s just say, it’s a good thing it pays well. Very well. My employer doesn’t even want me there, is an arrogant jerk 99.99999999% percent of the time, and doesn’t know how to treat anyone well, other than himself. It’s so fun.”

 Sam widens his eyes. “Wow. Sounds like you should just quit.”

 “Can’t. I’m under a year’s contract. I guess that’s how they trap the people in this job. Major lawsuits against me if I just quit.”

Sharon leans forward. “So, who’s your employer or is that classified as well?”

 “Tony Stark. And let me tell you, he is a pain in my ass.”

 +++++++

Bucky notices a few differences in Stark’s treatment of people… and things. Miss Potts, he treated with the utmost respect. They banter back and forth, and he usually is quick to give in to her demands. Stark has a voice in his ceiling. A learning AI, the genius had told him. Stark treats this voice like a friend or something. He’ll have full conversations with the voice. Bucky thinks it’s weird, but Stark is ‘eccentric’ right?

 He meets Colonel Rhodes within the first month of his job. He is unprepared for the pure, unadulterated joy he sees on Stark’s face when Rhodes walks through the door.

 “Rhodey!” Stark cries and runs over to hug the man. “How was the flight back? Do you need sleep? What’s on the docket for your leave?”

 Bucky just stares at the expressiveness of Stark’s face. Of all the days Bucky has escorted Stark around the city, and of all the people Stark has talked to, Bucky has never seen Stark drop his guard so much as he does right now. Rhodes, Bucky notices, hugs his friend right back. “I’m going to need some rest, Tones, then we can do whatever. Hey DUME, hey U, hey B, how are you guys?” Rhodes pats each of the bots. They beep happily back at him. He notices Bucky for the first time. “Um, Tones? Who’s this?”

 “Oh. Bodyguard.” Tony crosses his arms, defenses rising once again. “The fucking Board and Pepper strong=armed me into keeping this one. Apparently, they don’t want to see me hurt or some shit.”

 “Hi, James Rhodes. Nice to meet you.” Rhodes walks over to Bucky and extends his hand.

 Bucky shakes it. “James Barnes. Likewise. Can you make sure Mr. Stark updates me when he decides to leave the premises? I’d hate to get in trouble with Miss Potts if I lose him again.”

 “I’m right here.” Stark snaps.

 Rhodes chuckles. “But would you listen? Come on, Tones. You don’t want him to face Pepper’s wrath, do you? You know she’ll probably aim it at you, too.” Wrapping his arm around the smaller man’s shoulders, Rhodes leads him out of the workshop. Bucky trails behind at a slower pace.

 ++++++

Stark warms up to him over time.  He brings Bucky to red carpet events and galas. He makes sure to inform him when he’s going off schedule. Stark also lets him know when he’s taking home a bed companion or two. Bucky is happy he doesn’t have to stay inside the room when Stark has sex. Bucky had accidentally gotten an eyeful once before, and he wishes he could scrub the view out of his mind. It doesn’t help that Stark’s ass is perfect. He has to stop thinking about this!

 Apparently, when Tony gets comfortable with you, he flirts with you a lot. Now Bucky wouldn’t mind, except that he is incredibly gay, and Stark is terribly attractive. Bucky once fantasized wiping the grease off of his face the one-time Tony had emerged from under his Roadster, eyes sparkling. This is not good.

 Pepper must have noticed his discomfort and tells him. “If you want him to knock it off, just tell him. He'll understand.”

 “No, I don’t really mind,” Bucky admits. “I just have to stop myself from flirting back.”

 She shrugs. “As long as it’s just simple flirting, and nothing comes of it, I’m sure you'll be fine. He'll probably like you better.”

 “As long as I have your permission.” Bucky smiles. This job might have just gotten a lot easier.

 The next time Bucky meets up with his friends, they ask about his job. “I may have exaggerated last time.” He ducks his head, sheepish. “I don’t know if I’ve just gotten used to him, or what, but Tony isn’t so bad, you know?”

 “Oh, so he’s Tony now?” Sharon grins. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. But I think a lot of the problems I had with him were personas he thinks he has to live up to. When he’s alone in his workshop, he’s almost magical. The stuff that he can make is amazing, even if they end up being weapons of mass destruction. I don’t really like that. When he’s with Miss Potts or his friend Colonel Rhodes or even ugh Stane – I do not like that guy, he’s always so… open and relaxed. It’s almost as if he feels like he can be himself.  Then, when he’s around other people, at least one wall comes up. When he’s at a gala, he’s in an unbreakable safe. You can’t reach the real him, no matter how hard you try. It’s kind of sad that he has to do that.”

 “I think he’s just an asshole who can only be nice to the few people he actually likes.” Steve crosses his arms.

 Sam gives him a look. “Once again, Steve. Do you know the man?”

 “No, but.”

 “Why are you judging?” Sam glares, and Bucky chuckles. Sam knows how to give Steve a reality check.

 Sharon shakes her head at her boyfriends. She turns to Bucky. “What’s he like around you?”

 “He usually just kind of forgets I’m there when we’re in the workshop, but I don’t think he completely trusts me still. When he’s sleep-deprived, though, he likes to flirt with me.” Bucky grimaces. “Sometimes, I like it a little too much.”

 “Don’t tell me you’re crushing on Stark.” Steve groans.

 “Since he seems to be a topic of arguments, how about we just stop talking about Tony?” Bucky suggests. “Steve, how’s your art commission coming along?”

 Steve launches into his explanation on what he’s doing, and Bucky zones out. Does he really have a crush on his employer? How is that a good thing?

 ++++++

One day, Tony grabs Bucky by the arm. “We’re skipping out of the awards show or whatever Pep has planned for me tonight. I hate them. How about we go to the new casino instead?”

“Mr. Stark.” “Tony.” “Tony, you have to fly out to Afghanistan the next day. A late night at the casino isn’t going to help you. By the way, I still think I should accompany you to Afghanistan. I did fight over there, you know.” This was an argument that kept coming up.

 “Pshh, what do you know? I’ve been doing this since I was 16. I’ll be fine.” Tony brushes him off. “If you’re not going to go, I’m asking Happy.”

 “I’ll go, but you’re going to shield me if Miss Potts tries to kill me.” Bucky relents.

 Tony gives him a side eye. “Bold of you to think she won’t just kill me. And also, aren’t you supposed to be my bodyguard? Where I go, you go?”

 “So, why shouldn’t I accompany you to Afghanistan?” Bucky mentally cheers. He doesn’t usually one-up Tony.

 Tony pats his cheek. “I have Rhodey and plenty of Army and Air Force personnel there to protect me if something goes wrong. You should be happy; you have a few days off.”

 Bucky and Happy both accompany Tony to the casino. Happy sticks by Tony’s side while Bucky fades into the background. He watches as Rhodey comes from the awards show with an award for Tony. Tony apologizes and promises to be ready for the flight tomorrow. Rhodey leaves and Tony hands off his award to a Caesar cosplayer. Bucky’s heart wrenches as it does every time Tony picks up someone for a roll in the bed. He follows Happy home in his own car, checks the perimeter, makes sure everything is ok, and goes home for the weekend. Tony is right; he’ll finally have some extra time.

 ++++++

Bucky is bowling with Sam, Steve, and Sharon again when Rhodey calls him. Thinking Tony is coming home a day early, he excuses himself and answers the phone. “Hey Rhodey.”

 “Bucky.” Rhodey’s voice comes over the speaker. “Are you sitting down?”

 “No, but I can. Is something wrong?” His body fills with dread. He should have been over in Afghanistan.

 Rhodey sighs a ragged breath. “Tony, he, uh…. The convoy Tony was in got attacked. He definitely survived the attack, but they must have taken him. We don’t know where he is.”

 “No. no. You’re lying.” Bucky accuses. “I should have been there. I should have told Tony I was going with him, no matter what. This is…”

 “Not your fault.” Rhodey interrupts. “This is not your fault at all. We should never have had Tony there in a hotspot to begin with.”

 “Are – do you have people looking for him?” Bucky asks.

 “Of course, we do.”

 Bucky trembles. “It won’t be enough. Rhodey, let me come. Let me come and find him. I need him. Let me…”

 “Bucky, you know I can’t do that. “Rhodey sighs. “I know he means a lot to you. He means a lot to me, too. I’m not going to stop until I find him. I promise you, Bucky. I promise.”

 Bucky hits end call and sinks to the ground. What is he going to do now? Sharon notices his position and runs over to him. “Bucky! Get up, are you ok?”

 “No. Tony, he’s….” Bucky breaks down into tears.

 “Shh, It’s ok honey. Let’s get you to a real chair.” She takes his shoulders and leads him to their lane. “Just sit here. You’ll be ok.”

 Sam and Steve notice that he’s crying. “Shit. What happened, Shar?” Sam asks.

 “Something with Tony Stark. Bucky can’t finish his sentence. It must be pretty bad.”

 They take him home, and when his shock wears off, he tells them what Rhodey said. “I think I love him. And the bastard has to go get himself kidnapped.” He scoffs, wiping away tears from his eyes. “I don’t even know what I’m going to do tomorrow.”

 ++++++++

Three months pass. Bucky is just going through the motions. Serving as Pepper’s bodyguard, Bucky accompanies her to all her meetings and outings. He breaks down in tears once again when he gets the call that they found Tony. Accompanying Pepper to the airport, he refrains from embracing Tony and never letting him go. Instead, he tells Tony that a three-month long vacation is long enough.

 When they get in the car, Tony tells Happy to get him a cheeseburger and Pepper to call a press conference. Bucky sees a new resolve in Tony’s eyes that he never saw before. Tony tells the press that he’s shutting down weapons manufacturing. Bucky is happy. Bombs only caused more destruction.  That was one thing he hated about the army. Rhodey, on the other hand, is pissed. He tells Tony that he needs to rest and relax.

 Stane tells Tony to sit back and let him take care of all the PR. Bucky is always skeeved out about that guy. Tony obeys him and works on creating a flying suit. He tells Bucky he doesn’t know who to trust so he’s keeping it all private. Bucky is honored that Tony trusts him. IT takes a week or two for Tony to get everything working right, and once he masters the technique, he takes it out for a test drive. He returns not even an hour later, crashing through the ceiling. “Needs a few adjustments.” He pants.

 Bucky watches silently as Tony talks with JARVIS about changing a material for the suit, and the colors he should paint it. Tony’s focus is taken away by a reporter on TV, talking about the annual Firefighters Ball, hosted by Tony Stark. “Hmm… did we get an invitation to that, J?”

 Not to my knowledge, Sir.

 Tony tells JARVIS to fabricate and paint the new suit. “Don’t wait up.” He tells the AI. Nodding to Bucky, he asks, “Coming?”

 They quickly change and arrive at the gala in no time. Obadiah sees Tony and reminds him that he was supposed to lay low. Tony tells him that he just needed to get out. As per their normal gala routine, Tony goes to the bar while Bucky fades into the crowd. He notices the guy from Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division approaches Tony. Tony seems preoccupied. He takes a sip of his Scotch, shakes the agent’s hand, and makes his way toward… Bucky?

 “Care to dance?” Tony asks him. Bucky can’t say no. They dance for a little while until Tony asks Bucky if he’d like some air. The go out on the roof, talking about anything and everything. Things get said, an almost kiss happens, and Tony goes back to the bar to get them drinks.

 He’s gone for a long while, and Bucky goes to find him. He’s on the steps of the hall, talking to Stane. He’s not happy. Stane leans in closely and says something quietly and moves away, waving at Tony. Tony signals at Bucky to leave, and they drive back to Tony’s house in silence.

 Tony spends the next day watching feed of reporter talking about a town called Gulmira. He is not happy. He sends Bucky upstairs for something, and when Bucky comes back down, he is gone. Bucky groans, knowing all too well what Tony is doing. The military won’t take this happily.

 After almost getting shot out of the sky by the US Air Force, Tony returns home. His suit pinches and he takes a little while to come apart. He sends Pepper to get some files off his computer. Telling Bucky that he won’t be going out anymore tonight, he sends his bodyguard home. Bucky leaves five minutes too early. Stane attacks tony, paralyzing him and taking his arc reactor.

 Pepper calls Bucky, asking him where Tony is. “He’s not picking up his phone, and I’m afraid Stane is trying to hurt him. Can you go back and check on him? I called Rhodey, too.”

 Bucky makes a quick U-turn and heads back to Tony’s mansion. Rhodey is already there, helping Tony into his suit. “No time for arguments. I got to go.” Tony says and flies up out of the hole in the ceiling.

 In the end, Tony saves the day. Obadiah is killed, and Tony barely survives. Bucky runs up to him and kisses him fully on the lips. “I’m sorry if this makes things awkward, but never scare me like that again.”

 Tony kisses back with the energy of a man reaching a near-death experience. “I guess that means I have to quit now.” Bucky laughs.

 “No, I’ll just move you to Pepper. I don’t need a bodyguard anymore. I have my suit, you know?” Tony hugs him. “We’re gonna be alright.”

[hawkbucks]

1.

Tony yelps at the flash of lightning that briefly illuminates the living room a shocking white. Thunder rumbles deep overhead, much, much louder than what he would like. His breath stutters; darkness surrounds him, thanks to the storm currently ravaging its way across the state outside, and the candle burning on the coffee table does little to quell his fear.

“Are you alright, Anthony?” Jarvis’s ever-gentle voice questions, running a gloved hand through the mess of curls Tony calls his hair.

“I’m scared,” he admits, burrowing himself deeper into Jarvis’s side. Another flash of lightning, another round of raindrops crashing themselves against the windows, another clap of thunder, and he feels his eyes start to burn. He’s about to cry, he knows it, and he hates it. Crying means he’s too weak. Crying means he’s too emotional. Crying means that he’s gonna get another one of Dad’s lectures about how “Stark men are made of iron.”

He can’t help the tear that slips down his cheek. He can’t help the sob that rips itself from his lips. He can’t help the shudders that wrack his body.

But thankfully—thankfully—it’s Jarvis that’s with him. Thankfully, Jarvis doesn’t say anything as he wipes the tears from Tony’s cheeks. All he does is hum.

2.

“What is with you lately, Tones?” Rhodey asks, standing in front of Tony as Tony sits on the edge of his bed. He places his hands on his hips, back ramrod straight and his expression screaming that he will not be taking any of Tony’s bullshit answers today. Not when Tony’s been somehow eating even less than he usually does and acting like he’s 2 weeks away from keeling over and dying.

Tony picks at a stray thread on his jeans, refusing to look him in the eye.

He wrinkles his nose. “I’m worried about you, man,” he says, voice going soft. “C’mon. Whatever it is, you can tell me.” God, he hopes Tony tells him. 3 years of living together in the same damn dorm, and Tony still refuses to talk about his problems even when Rhodey openly asks.

“I’ll wait here as long as it takes,” Rhodey threatens, head tilting to the side. “5 minutes or 5 hours, I don’t care.” He stares at Tony, pursing his lips together.

They’re about 7 minutes in when Tony finally speaks. “You know how I’m supposed to be going home for Christmas break?”

Rhodey nods slowly.

“I had an argument with my dad the other day,” Tony starts, voice hoarse, “and it—it didn’t go so well. I yelled. He yelled. We said things we’d regret. Or at least I said things I’d regret. Not sure about him.”

If Rhodey ever meets Howard Stark, he’s probably going to deck him in the face.    

“And he—he was so angry when he hang up and—and I don’t—” Tony blinks rapidly before scrubbing at his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie, still refusing to look up at Rhodey— “I don’t wanna go home, I don’t—I’m scared.”

Oh yeah, Rhodey’s definitely going to punch Howard. For right now though, he’ll settle with kneeling in front of Tony and pulling him into a tight hug. “You could come home with me,” Rhodey murmurs, sighing when Tony’s hand clutch onto the back of his shirt. “My mom loves you. You know that. She’ll make you as much pumpkin pie as you want.”

Tony nuzzles into Rhodey’s shoulder. “As many as I want?”

“She’ll make you 5 of those damn pies if that’s what you want.”

Tony manages a giggle.

3.

If Tony dies in this goddamn cave, he’s gonna fucking haunt all the stockholders of SI. He prods at the car battery, face screwing up in distaste as he’s once again reminded that that’s the thing keeping a bunch of pieces of shrapnel from slowly piercing his heart.

“Thirsty, Stark?” Yinsen slides a mug full of water over the table.

The water’s more than likely stale and a bit warm, but he’s not in the position to be picky, is he? He takes the mug and downs the water in 2 gulps, ignoring the metallic taste to it. He rubs at the base of his neck. “How long have I been here?”

“A week,” Yinsen replies. Tony groans. “Which, if may I remind you, is a week of not giving them what they want.” Anyone else and it would seem like a scolding, but coming from Yinsen, whose lips are turned up in a grin, it just makes him feel proud.

“The food here is shitty. They don’t deserve what they want,” he snorts. “And they stuck a car battery in my chest, which isn’t what I want.”

“And what do you want?” Yinsen props his head up with a fist, staring at Tony with such an intense sense of knowing in his eyes that it’s kind of uncomfortable.

Tony averts his eyes, feeling like he’s under a microscope and ready to be picked apart with tweezers. He takes the empty water mug and starts juggling it. “Maybe a chicken sandwich, for one. Preferably on a brioche bun with extra mayo,” he jokes.

Yinsen huffs, which is probably as close to a laugh as Tony’ll get. He’ll take it. “Just a chicken sandwich?”

“And fries.” Oh, shit. He might be salivating a little.

Yinsen raises an eyebrow.

“I’m a simple man, Yinsen. What can I say?”

“Simple indeed.”

“Okay. That’s mean. You didn’t have to agree.”

Yinsen shrugs. “It seemed like the kind of statement that needed agreeing.”

Tony makes a talking gesture with his hand, mocking Yinsen (although they both know it’s in good humor. As good of humor you can get when you’re held hostage with someone else in a cave, anyway). “What, do you want to talk about our feelings?” He places the mug back on the table, leaving it dangerously close to the edge.

Yinsen gestures in between them. “You may lay them out if you wish.”

Tony’s eyebrows furrow. Suddenly he’s 17 again, living in the dorms with Rhodey and hiccuping his sorrows into Rhodey’s chest as Rhodey strokes his back and tells him that it’ll be fine. He clenches his fist as words fight their way up his throat and he tries to hold them back and back and back—”I’m scared,” he blurts out, biting his lip right after. Nice going, Stark, you idiot.

Yinsen nods like he understands. Like. Pft, no, he does understand, Tony knows that. The guy has a family that he wants to get back to, but for now he’s stuck in a cave with some snobby billionaire who doesn’t even remember him because he was so smashed. “Scared?”

“Well, yeah. Going from staying at the Four Seasons to having a bed that I’m pretty sure cannot legally be called a bed would be jarring for anyone.”

Yinsen taps his fingers on the table.

“God, you don’t let up, do you?”

Yinsen shakes his head.

“Shit, fine, okay. I’d like to say I’m not ever truly out of my element, but damn if this experience hasn’t been… trying.” He still has access to drafting paper and pencils, at least, along with some of his other machinations. Still, they’re more or less putting a gun to his head and forcing him to realize that what he’s been building with the intent to protect has been used to destroy. Jesus, he might actually have to get a therapist like Rhodey and Pepper have been bothering him to.

“It’s been trying for all of us.”

Tony exhales. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. And it’s, like… I’m afraid that I’m gonna die here, you know? Not because I want to live—which, holy shit, I can’t believe I just said that out loud—but because if I die here, then I die knowing that I couldn’t do anything about this.”

“This?” Yinsen leans slightly forward.

“This.” Tony gestures at the ceiling above them. “The weapons. The blood. Those things.” And he thinks about the others. Rhodey. Pepper. Obadiah. DUM-E. Shit.

“You’re doing something about it right now by refusing to make them their weapons,” Yinsen says. “Defiance, Stark. Isn’t it great?”

“Defiance,” Tony repeats, “is pretty damn great.”

[iamartemisday]

Pepperony Week Day Six- Endgame Fix-It

A/N: This story is loosely based on the NGE fic, The Second Try by Jimmy Wolk.

**

It all came down to this.

Which was such a damn cliche, he wanted to smack himself for even thinking it. The truth was the truth, though, and Tony Stark was nothing if not honest.

Ever since New York, the chitauri, Ultron, those damn Accords, everything had led him to this moment. Right here, with infinite power at his disposal and one purple son of a bitch to kill.

"I am inevitable," Thanos said. Yeah, sure. Inevitably ugly.

Oh, he was good.

The worst part was knowing Pepper was watching. Pepper and Rhodey and Peter. At least Morgan would never have to see this, even if she would grow up in a world without him.

It had to be this way. Just one chance to save the universe. One out of fourteen million.

'It's hard being number one,' he thought, almost with a laugh.

"And I… am…" Talking hurt, moving hurt, everything hurt, but he had to say it. "Ironman."

The world stood still. Another cliche. The time between the snap and the impact felt like years. He saw it all, Morgan's birth, Pepper's face at their wedding, Rhodey carrying him, half-starved, to bed, Peter's body dissolving in his arms, space, the donut ship, so many battles, so many wars, so much chaos and loss, so much pain.

'I wish it never happened,' he thought, filling his thoughts with only Morgan, her sweet little face. He'd never see her again. 'I wish I could've watched you grow up.'

Light and energy exploded, tearing his body to pieces, and then it was over.

Tony Stark closed his eyes.

**

"Tony?"

He opened his eyes. He was on a jet carrier, banking left as they picked up altitude. Rhodey was next to him. At least, it looked like Rhodey. Tony had to blink a few times to be sure. This Rhodey was at least a decade younger than the one he knew. His leg braces were gone. Instead, he wore a standard military uniform.

"Hey, wake up," he said. "We're almost there."

Tony blinked. He tried to move his right arm but it was caught in a sling. "Almost… where?"

Rhodey furrowed his brow, studying Tony like a doctor. He should've known how much Tony hated that. "Home. Should only be another ten minutes."

Tony's pocket beeped. He jumped like he'd been hit with a cattle prod. Steadying himself, he reached into his pants and pulled out the clunky flip phone he used ten years ago.

It was Obadiah.

Obadiah Stane was calling him.

At the corner of the screen was the date.

"Oh my God." The phone clattered to the floor, landing on just the right button to reject the call. Tony shot to his feet, but Rhodey was faster.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

"This isn't right." Tony's had snapped in every direction, seeking something, anything. He didn't even know what. There was no fire anywhere. No debris. No Thanos. "This… this can't be happening…"

"Tony, calm down." Rhodey forced him back in his seat, keeping a firm hold on his shoulders. "Look at me. You're out, okay? You're safe. We're not going back to Afghanistan ever again."

"Afghan…" Tony inhaled until his lungs ached. His heart pounded so hard, his ears hurt. The phone rang again. It was a number he didn't know, but the date was still the same.

May 3rd, 2008.

The plane landed in an airport. He couldn't remember which. The ramp descended and Rhodey supported him on the way back to solid ground. Pepper was waiting for him. Her hair up, her outfit clean, her eyes red and shiny. She looked exactly like she had the day he came home from captivity.

'Today is the day you came home from captivity,' he told himself, though he could hardly believe it.

This had to be a dying dream, one last trick from the stones to lull him off to eternal sleep. Any second now, his vision would go dark. He'd be back in the burning rubble of what should've been his second home, surrounded by the people he still, after everything, considered his friends. He'd be right back to dying for the good of the universe and hoping only to hear a certain voice one more time.

A voice which belonged to the woman standing before him, solid and real. Everything around him was real. From the tarmac to Rhodey's hand to Pepper's wet smile.

"Hey Pep," he choked, remembering his old line but unable to speak it. "I… hey…"

"Hey," she said. "Glad you're back. I hate job-hunting."

A sob tore from his throat as his knees finally gave. His body was far too light, and Pepper's knees barely buckled as he fell against her. Tony would apologize later, or maybe never. He wasn't as sorry as he should've been.

He just needed to feel her.

"This is real," he muttered, his whole body trembling. "This is real. How is this real? I didn't-"

"Maybe we should get him to the hospital." Rhodey tried to speak softly, but Tony heard every word.

"No! No hospitals." He found the strength to let Pepper go. "Please… I just want…"

'I want an American cheeseburger... and the other-'

'That's enough of that.'

'It's not what you think. I want you to call for a press conference.'

The words were in his head like a movie script. He knew how to say them, what inflictions to use. He had everything but the gumption to speak. His stomach revolted at the thought of a rice cracker, let alone greasy fast food. His bold new direction had to happen one way or another, but did he have to announce it today?

Tony looked at Pepper, all subtle signs of aging gone from her face. Her crinkle-less eyes were as wide as they'd been before Extremis. They were full of concern for him and he could barely take it.

"I just want to go home."

**

The Malibu house was smaller than he remembered. The roof didn't slope like he thought it did and he spent twenty minutes searching for the east wing before remembering it wouldn't be built for another two years.

Though Pepper and Rhodey both argued Tony had stood firm. He didn't need a doctor. At least, not that kind. Tony checked every database in the country for Stephen Strange and found his man in a Manhattan hospital. He was an up and coming star in the surgery world. His operations were pure artistry. People came from miles away just to have a meeting with him. He'd been interviewed on the five o'clock news last month, and it was clear he knew exactly how brilliant and important he was.

But he wasn't magic. Not yet.

Now Tony had nothing to do but stare at the upside-down door to his basement lab. The blood was rushing to his head and he should probably sit up, but every time he thought about it, all the energy he'd built up evaporated. In the corner of his eye was the piano. His mother used to play it for him, now Obie did.

He was going to have to get that evidence against Obadiah. Put him in jail for a few thousand years and maybe make it a clean process. Lying, murderous prick that he was, Tony didn't really want to kill him again.

He'd have to deal with Ivan Vanko, though. And Aldrich Killian. And HYDRA. Had to keep the Maximoffs away from those assholes. Had to find Bruce before Ross did. Had to get Steve out of the ice. Had to get Barnes out of the ice. Had to keep an eye on Peter. He'd be seven years old now, give or take.

He'd have to be Pepper's boss again. Nothing but a boss...

Tony pressed the base of his hands into his eyes, but the dull throbbing wouldn't stop. "Friday, dim the lights."

"Excuse me, sir?"

Tony sat up, searching for an intruder before the voice registered. "Uh, right. JARVIS, I… I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm saying."

"As you didn't the other three times, I'm sure."

"Watch it," Tony pointed at the control panel. "I gave you sarcasm, I can take it away."

"Of course, sir. My apologies."

Tony's smile broke. How he'd managed it at all was a mystery he'd never solve. "No, don't apologize, buddy. I uh… I wanted to tell you how much I… I mean, you do so much. You're one hell of an AI."

"I should be, sir. You designed me."

"No, not that. I mean, yes, I did, but… I just appreciate everything you've done for me, JARVIS. I wanted you to know that. I… I appreciate you and I…"

'I love you 3000.'

He'd been hearing that voice since he woke up. Seeing her face in his mind's eye. When he entered the house, he half expected her to rush out of her room and run into his arms. He would've held her and rocked her until the end of the world.

But he didn't, because Morgan Stark didn't have a room in the Malibu house.

Morgan Stark didn't exist.

He avoided that realization for so long as it chipped away at him. Her absence was a hole in his heart that would never be filled. Not until she was conceived again. If she was conceived again. The odds of getting the exact timing twice, with a ten-year window in between, were astronomical. No calculator in the world could figure that number out.

And this was real.

Tony curled into a ball and cried. He hadn't really cried in so long. The last time, Pepper held him all night and talked him through it. This time, he was alone. Pepper didn't know him as her husband and the father of her child. He was a philandering asshole who just so happened to sign her paychecks. She wouldn't be there in the morning for him to kiss awake. She wouldn't go to bed with him at night and tell him she loved him. They wouldn't eat breakfast in the morning with their little girl and talk about the day ahead.

To think, his biggest concern used to be finding the right size muffler for whatever car he was restoring.

What a piece of shit he'd been.

"Why would you do this to me?" He stared at the ceiling. Most of the stones were in space right now, so it would have to do. "You couldn't just blow Thanos and his boy band to kingdom come and kill me? That's all I asked for."

Except it wasn't.

'I wish it never happened.' He said that to himself while the power of the universe coursed through his veins. Hearing his thoughts and concluding exactly what he meant by 'it' wouldn't be difficult for an ancient force that could destroy entire universes in the blink of an eye.

"That's great," Tony mumbled, laughing even as fresh tears welled up. "Really great, guys. Remember how I also wished I could watch her grow up? Can't do that if she's never born, now can I? Did you think of that?"

"Sir, I don't mean to interrupt your… internal discussion." Tony snorted. JARVIS continued. "I've just received a message from the caretaker of your summer home in Georgia. There is a slight situation."

Tony sighed, staring at nothing. "What kind of situation?"

"Well sir, he was doing a routine inspection of the property and he found a young girl sleeping in one of the guest rooms. She's claiming it's her room and that she's your daughter."

The bottom dropped out of the world. All sounds and sights fell away. If there was ever a moment for Tony to wake up in a battlefield ready to die, it was now.

"What does she look like?" Tony waved but no holoscreens appeared. Because he hadn't put them in yet. "Did he send photos?"

"I only have the report, sir. She calls herself Morgan and reportedly will not stop asking for you. The caretaker wanted to inform you of the matter before contacting child services."

"NO!" Tony grabbed his coat. "Tell him not to call anyone, just keep her there and wait for me. And get the jet ready for takeoff. We're leaving in ten minutes."

"Sir, I-"

"Just do it, JARVIS!"

Tony broke every speed limit imaginable and possibly the laws of physics to get to the airport in under five minutes. The radio was off. His phone was under a pillow somewhere at home. He'd stopped asking questions. 'Because Infinity Stones' would just have to do.

As he boarded the plane, he took one more look at the sky. "We're not done yet."

Somewhere deep inside himself, he almost felt that buzz of heat and power.

Time for round two.

[intothestarkerverse]

Time of Our Lives (Part Seven)

Based on a prompt from @geekymarvel  

Peter is tasked with an important mission that requires him to go back in time.   Finding himself at a gala for Stark industries in the 1990’s, he comes face to face with a young and incorrigible Tony Stark who considers Peter’s attempts to deny his advances a challenge.  Now, dogged by a horny young CEO who won’t take no for an answer, Peter’s task has become much more difficult….

(STORY CONTAINS ENDGAME SPOILERS)

Read on AO3

Tony Stark had long ago learned to live independently.  From boarding school as a child to MIT as a teenager to working for his family’s Fortune 500 company as an adult, he had rarely been coddled and had taught himself how to survive without many close personal attachments, depending only upon himself, and never allowing sentimentality to consume him.  He could count those for whom he deeply cared on a single hand:  Edwin Jarvis, James Rhodes, and (before her death) Maria Stark.  The rest of the billions of people on the Earth?  He never expected much more from them than a fleeting night’s entertainment and debauchery or more money to pad his already over-inflated bank account.

The last thing that Tony Stark ever anticipated was how easily Peter Parker seemed to fit into that life of self-imposed solitude.  Perhaps some of that could be accredited to Peter’s familiarity with the Old Man.  Peter was not as easily offended by Tony’s peculiarities because, no doubt, the Old Man hadn’t grown out of all of them.  He laughed at Tony’s dry wit.  He blushed at Tony’s flirtations.  He called Tony out on his shit and somehow instinctively had a sixth sense about when to stand his ground and when to back down to Tony’s mercurial temper.  It was like being with someone he’d known for years, and there were times when he had to consciously remind himself that they’d actually met only a short time ago.

It was likely that the Old Man kept his lab organized in a similar way to Tony’s, more because Tony was a creature of habit than because there was any tried or true system to it.  Even decades into the past, that had to be how Peter seemed so at ease in the area of Tony’s home in which he had always felt the most comfortable and in control.  But it wasn’t just the lab.  It was everything else, too.

There were no breakfast buffets after that first morning, but there was always some manner of breakfast food waiting for them when they woke up.  Eggs and bacon.  Waffles.  Pancakes.  Muffins.  Something.  Peter playfully teased and cajoled Tony into taking at least a few bites of food, sometimes even serving him up a small plate with his morning coffee with the insistence that “even a brain as amazing as the great Tony Stark’s needs fuel.”  As much as Tony pretended to hate it, there was some long-buried and never-recognized part of him that was happy to have someone who cared about his morning caloric intake.  It had been such a very long time since someone had tried to take care of him, someone who wasn’t on his payroll and was genuinely concerned about him because of an emotional fondness and not a monetary need, at any rate.  It felt much nicer than he was ever going to be willing to admit to anyone.  Even when he didn’t feel like eating, he always caved in and ate at least a few bites of whatever Peter was offering him.  It was only to pacify the kid, he told himself, but if he was being honest…he might become more of a breakfast person if his mornings were going to stay like this forever.  But they weren’t.  That’s what he had to keep telling himself.

After breakfast, if Stark Industries could do without their CEO, the two men were off to Tony’s home lab.  The first time he’d showed Peter the lab, he had genuinely hoped for a bigger reaction.  Peter was not nearly as impressed as he would have hoped, but…Tony had to remind himself that he was still competing against that ridiculous Old Man who had the benefit of 21st Century technology and several decades of trial and error that Tony had yet to experience. Of course the Old Man’s lab was going to be shinier and more impressive.  Of course Peter wasn’t going to ‘ooo’ and ‘awww’ over technology that he likely found woefully outdated and comical.  Tony wasn’t bitter about that.  At least…not much.  To his credit, Peter seemed genuinely taken with Dum-E and U.  He greeted them like old friends…and they probably were, come to think of it.  If it was possible, the robots seemed equally enamored by the kid.  Though, as Tony watched Peter giggle and duck Dum-E’s awkwardly swinging appendage, the inventor wondered if there was anyone who wasn’t charmed by the spiderling within minutes of meeting him.  How did he fight crime in the future?  How did all of the criminals not just turn themselves in at the prospect of causing that boy an ounce of harm?  How had the Old Man not become an authoritarian dictator imposing martial law on New York City just to keep the crime rate down and make sure that Peter Parker never encountered anything more dangerous than lost tourists and purse thieves?  

Peter felt responsible for the Old Man’s death.  It wasn’t so hard for Tony to imagine that he’d died for Peter.  Protecting him.  Saving him.  Guaranteeing him a future of rainbows and unicorns.  Not that Tony would ever do anything like that himself.  He could just…understand where the Old Man might have become more sentimental as senility and infirmity crept up on him.  Tony Stark was a self-centered piece of shit…one who choked down unwanted breakfast food every morning just to watch Peter’s face light up with triumph and joy over his small victory.

Fuck.

The lab work was as grueling as Tony had warned that it would be.  Fixing the Nullifer was an impossible task.  There were six glass boards erected on wheels around the lab, all of them covered in colorful, erasably marked equations as Tony and Peter broke the Nullifer down to the bare bones theories Howard Stark had hypothesized when creating it.  There were parts strewn across several work tables.  Blue prints and schematics pinned to walls, taped to floors…  

Though he would never say as much out loud, Tony was impressed by Peter.  His grasp of theoretical physics was remarkable for a kid without a college degree.  Though there were times that Peter needed him to break down the truly advanced parts of a few of the equations, Peter was quick to grasp the concepts once they were explained and proved unafraid to voice his own ideas and theories.  He wasn’t just beautiful, sexy, and brave, he was also smart enough to carry on a scientific conversation with Tony without being left behind…and without boring the inventor.  That, in and of itself, was astounding.  Much to his own chagrin, Tony found himself hauling out other projects, theories, concepts, prototypes…explaining them all to Peter with a touch more eagerness than his self-respect preferred and taking in the boy’s praise or suggestions like he was starving for it.  

They always broke for lunch when the sound of Peter’s stomach rumbling became too distracting, taking whatever fare Jarvis had prepared for them back to the lab so they could eat and work at the same time…though they rarely did.  The ‘picnics’ as Peter called them were usually spent discussing things other than the Nullifer, mostly because Peter insisted that it was important to give the brain time to process things subconsciously.  Tony did have to admit that more often than not, after they’d spent all of lunch arguing over who the best Star Wars characters were while seated in the only clean part of the lab (a six foot square section of floor in the left center) there was some kind of small ‘eureka’ moment that led them down a new path.  It was never the right path, but he had warned Peter that he thought the Nullifer could never actually be fixed.  It certainly wasn’t like, as days passed, Tony was hoping he was right and that stupid machine was broken well into their old age.  Because that wasn’t true.  Or at least, he’d never admit it.  Even to himself.

It was somewhat distressing how little Stark Industries seemed to actually need their CEO around.  Tony suspected that Obie was probably still shouldering a lot of the workload, and since he had no desire to dip his toes into the bureaucratic side of the company…he didn’t feel much like stopping him. Every time he mentioned Obadiah’s name, Peter would imperceptibly tense up and change the subject. It was suspicious, but Tony tried to write it all off as a mutual dislike between the men.  After all, when Tony’s presence had finally been demanded in the office, he’d taken Peter with him to show him around the company…and Obie had been less than welcoming to the young man.

Dinner was mostly delivery, eaten in front of the television, the two men seated closely together on the sofa or the floor in front of the coffee table.  Peter had a deep appreciation for cinema, one that Tony found both endearing and a little obnoxious every time he referred to a recent release as a ‘really old movie.’  “You’re going to be a really sexy corpse if you say that one more time, Peter.”

Peter gave Tony a sidelong glance attempting an innocent smile and a dismissive shrug.  “You’re the one who calls my Tony ‘Old Man’ whenever you’re referring to him.”

Tony felt his jaw clench ever so slightly at Peter’s choice of words.  He sucked in a slow breath through his nose, letting it escape in a sigh as he pushed the nearly empty Chinese takeout container away.  Suddenly, he wasn’t hungry anymore.  “You know, from what little you’ve told me about the guy…I don’t get why you still think he was ever ‘yours’.”

Peter froze, staring down at his own food.  Perhaps Tony had said too much.  He wasn’t jealous of the guy and he hardly wanted Peter to think he was.  There was just some part of him that was very frustrated by Peter always referring to the Old Man as ‘his Tony’.  “No…yeah…you’re right.  He’s not mine.  Never was.  He’s just…just Mr. Stark.  I won’t call him ‘my Tony’ anymore.  I’m sorry…if it…you know.”

Fuck.

The kid even knew him well enough not to go any further with his apology or his excuses.  Tony had never imagined how amazingly frustrating it would be to have someone like Peter around.  No, not someone like Peter.  Peter. There couldn’t be anyone else like Peter, not in all of time and space.

—

“What’s this?”  Peter had been rooting around in Tony’s drawers trying to find a spare tube of lubricant.  They were out, something he’d only just discovered when he was trying to prepare to seduce the older man when he finished with his late-night conference call with the Japanese investors.  Instead of finding spare lube, he’d stumbled upon a worn children’s chapter book tucked away in the bottom drawer of Tony’s bedside table.

Tony froze inside the doorway.  His face was unreadable, but there was a hint of something uncomfortable in his dark eyes.  “A book.”

“Yeah, I figured that part out.  I mean…why do you have it?”

“It was a gift.”

“From?”

“My mother.”

“Oh.”  Peter’s hand fell to his lap, still holding onto the book.  Suddenly, he felt bad about bringing it up.  Although they had both lost their parents, it was something neither of them had talked about to any profound extent.  Peter barely remembered his parents, and for Tony that loss was only a few years old.  Peter could sympathize and avoided the topic unless Tony brought it up.  He felt the mattress shift as Tony sat down beside him.  The billionaire was staring at his hands, remarkably quiet for someone who always enjoyed talking so much.  “You don’t have to say anything else.”  Peter felt the need to make sure Tony knew he was all right with the silence.  “I…I understand.”

Tony nodded his head slowly.  “Yeah, Beautiful, I know you understand…That’s why…”  He fell silent, his words cut off by a melodramatic sigh.  “She gave it to me when I was little.  It was my favorite book growing up.”

Peter looked down at the battered dust jacket and smiled.  The Story of King Arthur and His Knights by Howard Pyle.  “This makes so much sense.”  It added a whole new layer to Iron Man that Peter had never even considered.  He could just imagine a tiny Tony Stark pretending to be a knight…only to grow up and save the universe as a futuristic knight of sorts.  

“Oh yeah?”  Tony turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow, wondering at what part of his future could have anything to do with a book about the Round Table and chivalry.  “Well, I’m glad.  I guess.”  He was quiet again for several seconds before he reached out to gingerly take the book from Peter’s hands and begin leafing through it.  “When my mother wasn’t busy being a trophy wife, dragged off by my father to all corners of the world…she’d always come to my room to read me one of these.  Sometimes it was the only time I got to spend with her.  Being raised by nannies isn’t all that Hollywood makes it out to be.”  He grimaced, closing the book again.  “I loved those story times.  Everything about them.  Falling asleep to the sound of reading.  Dreaming about the stories.  Spent most of my very limited innocent years playing Knight and pretending to be a hero.  Then my father decided I was too soft, that I need to learn to be more independent.  Shipped me off to boarding school a half a world away when I was seven and I only saw my parents on holidays after that.  If I was lucky.  I don’t think we ever actually finished reading that book…”

Peter’s throat felt tight as he swallowed, lifting a hand to rub at his eye self consciously, attempting to wipe away the dampness there before Tony saw it.  

Only he did.

Peter could tell by the way Tony’s expression seemed to soften, the way he stared at Peter as if he was only just seeing him for the first time.  The teenager tried to smile, rubbing at his eyes again before Tony reached out to capture his wrists, gently pull his hands away from his face and bridge the distance between them.

Peter could never remember Tony kissing him quite so gently before.  There was a tenderness to the brush of lips that took the young man’s breath away.  When Tony dropped his wrist and lifted a hand to gently stroke the side of Peter’s face, the boy felt tingly all over.  “Umm…we’re…we’re out of lube.”

Tony paused, ceasing the gentle succession of feather soft kisses he’d been pressing to Peter’s lips as he stroked his cheek with a calloused thumb.  A little laugh escaped him and he rested his forehead against Peter’s.  “Way to kill the mood, Parker.”

“I’m sorry!  We could…I don’t know…go without it?”

“Nah, we’ll get some tomorrow.  Tonight…let’s try something else tonight.”

Peter’s gaze was wary, but he nodded, afraid of what sexual escapades they might be about to embark on…right up until the moment Tony made himself comfortable in the bed and pulled Peter into his side.  Wait.  Was Tony Stark actually cuddling?  On purpose?  Of his own choice?  Instead of sex?  Without sex?  Cuddling?   Peter couldn’t help himself, he was grinning like a fool and only too happy to snuggle in as close to Tony as he was allowed.

“What knight did you pretend to be?”

“What?” Tony’s words were muffled by his position, nose buried in Peter’s chestnut curls.  “What knight…Arthur, of course.  Had to be the king, didn’t I?  My ego wouldn’t tolerate anything less.  Why?  Which knight do you think I am?”

Peter considered this for several minutes, running his fingers on a slow track up and down Tony’s clothed chest.  “Lancelot.  I think you’re way more a Lancelot.  Flashy and sexy.  The best knight, but also…controversial and tragic.”

Tony pulled back enough to look at him. “Damn, kid, you make me really curious about my life between now and then.  What the hell happens to me?  Who the hell is this Old Man, anyway?”

“Earth’s greatest defender.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.”  The silence lingered between them, but it wasn’t a bad quiet.  Peter was happy to rest in the comfort of Tony’s arm, tucked against his side, head resting on his chest.  It was Tony who finally broke the silence in the most unexpected of ways.  “Do we start at the beginning or where my mother and I last left off?” He held up the book with his free hand.

Peter just stared at him in awe.  Was he actually suggesting what Peter thought he was suggesting?  Somehow, the idea of cuddling with Tony in his bed reading his favorite book, a gift from his dead mother, a book he’d abandoned along with his innocence well over a decade ago…was the most intimate thing Peter had ever heard. He felt so humbled, so honored, so happy, that he was blinking tears out of his eyes again. “Better start at the beginning.  I don’t think the story of King Arthur has a happy ending.”

“The best stories never do, Sweetheart.”

—

“We’re going to dinner.”

Peter looked up from the circuit board he was bent over, setting it aside to look at Tony incredulously.  “We’re what?”

“We’re going out.  We’ve been cooped up inside for weeks.  It’s time I took you somewhere nice.  So…go shower, change, whatever.  We’re going to my favorite restaurant.”

Peter couldn’t even try to hide his delight at the prospect.  They were going on an actual date.  If he’d thought that periodic cuddles and stories with Tony were wonderful, than a dinner date with the man of his dreams was more than he’d ever hoped for.  He didn’t even care if Tony saw him running to their room to shower and change.

After a little less than an hour, Peter was pleased with the way he looked.  He’d tried to tame his curls and tie his tie just right.  The suit Jarvis had picked up for him ‘just in case’ he happened to need it was precisely the right size.  Then again, with Jarvis, everything was always perfect.  Peter had never thought that the AI would come up short in comparison to the real man.  Even Vision had nothing on this guy.

At last, content and more than ready for dinner, he decided to leave the master bath and go in search of Tony who he discovered entering the bedroom in search of him.

The two men froze in their respective doorways, speaking simultaneously in mirrored exclamations of surprise and indignation.  “What are you wearing?”

A long pause.

“You said you were taking me to dinner.”  Peter looked down at the suit and tie he’d donned, suddenly feeling very self conscious about his choice of attire compared to the jeans and band t-shirt Tony was wearing.

“Where exactly did you think we were eating, Tavern on the Green?”

“I mean…you’re a billionaire.”

“So that means I eat nothing but cavier for every meal then, huh?”

Peter looked genuinely puzzled.  “Don’t you?”

Tony crossed his arms and regarded the younger man with an eyebrow raised questioningly.  “You claim to know me so well, Pete.  What’s my favorite food?  Hm? Is it Foie Gras?”

Another long pause.  “No, its Cheeseburgers.”

“Bravo!”  Tony gave Peter an over-exaggerated round of applause.  “There’s the boy genius I know and love!”

The words hung between them for several seconds as both men realized what he’d said, albeit accidentally.  Peter’s face broke out in a slow grin that very nearly split his head in two, while for the first time in recorded history, Peter assumed, Tony actually blushed.  He cleared his throat, opened his mouth to speak, and remained speechless.  Another first for the billionaire by Peter’s estimation.

“No fair taking it back.”  Peter’s warning was spoken so softly that it barely carried to Tony’s ears.  The billionaire sucked in a slow breath and shrugged as if to say that he had no intention of taking it back, or acknowledging that it had ever happened.

“You’re not changing your clothes, Kid.  You’re eating in the suit.  Come on.  I’m hungry and I’m tired of waiting.”

“No, but…I don’t want to eat cheeseburgers in a suit, Tony.  I’ll look stupid.”  Peter’s high-pitched pleading echoed around them as they made their way through the penthouse and finally to the garage.  Tony sauntered to one of his cars, smirking at the kid as he slid into the driver’s seat.  

“Get in or starve, Beautiful.”

“Mr. Jarvis would never let me starve.”

“Did I say you were going to be starving for food, Beautiful?”  Tony’s gaze dipped meaningfully and Peter turned a deep shade of red.  

“Yeah, okay…I guess…I guess I can eat a cheeseburger in a suit.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Peter fidgeted the whole ride, feeling incredibly self conscious and over dressed.  More so when he saw where they were going to be eating.  Tony led the way into the tiny diner, greeting the middle-aged server and the line cook visible through a small pass-through into the kitchen.  He knew their names.  Apparently, he was a regular.

“You look pretty young to be a lawyer.”

Peter looked up at the woman whose name was apparently ‘Lorraine’.  “Oh no, I’m…I’m not a lawyer.”

“You don’t say…never see men in here in a suit unless they’re lawyers.  You just a fancy dresser, then, huh?”

“Um…yeah?”  Peter glanced down at the napkin wrapped silverware she’d placed in front of him and smirked at the sight of what appeared to be grease on the spoon.  Good thing he didn’t need silverware to eat a burger.

“What are you and your fancy man getting today, Tony?”

Tony raised an eyebrow at Peter, gesturing to the menu.  Peter, however, just shook his head.  “Just…double whatever you usually get.”

“Well, Lorraine, you heard the man.”

“Hey, Charlie, you hear all that?  I need two Dead Cows wearing Yellow Blankets, two orders of Frog Sticks and we need ‘em Stark Naked.”

Peter couldn’t help but snort as he tried to hold in his laughter.

“Be right back with the shakes, Dear.”  Lorraine departed the table with a wink, unused menus stashed under her arm.

Peter took the time to look around the diner now that they were alone.  It was old, but despite the literal greasy spoon, appeared to be clean.  There were a few other diners, but everyone seemed to be minding their own business.  Every booth had a tiny juke box sitting against the wall, and with nothing else to look at, Peter was happy to slide along the seat and take a closer look at the music selection.  “Oh wow, there’s some great really old music on this thing, did you bring change?”

“Of course.”  Tony laughed.  “Gotta have quarters for the jukebox and the pinball.  It’s part of the place’s charm.”

“There’s pinball, too!”  Peter craned his neck to find the game.

“It’s by the bathrooms.  I’ll challenge you to a few games after we eat.  Only fair warning you though, Beautiful, I’ve had the High Score on it for well over a year.”

“That’s really going to suck for you when I beat you tonight, then.”  

The burgers were surprisingly good.  Juicy, covered in gooey melted cheese, grilled onions, lettuce, pickle, tomato and some kind of ‘special sauce’ that Peter swore was just ketchup, mustard and mayo mixed together.  The milkshakes were thick, the fries were salty, and Peter was quick to declare it his new favorite burger joint in New York.  He even managed to beat Tony’s high score on pinball and preened with pride the entire way home while he listened to Tony grumble about a promised re-match.

As it turned out, the diner became a familiar haunt for them.  Several times a week after working late in the lab, they’d wind up in ‘their’ booth.  While they started out on opposite sides, after a couple of weeks, Tony just began sliding into the seat beside Peter, settling an arm around his shoulders, speaking softly into his ear, stealing french fries from his plate.  

—

Tony couldn’t believe that he had to hear about Peter’s bithday from Jarvis.  That hurt.  Far more than it should have.  The butler had shared the somewhat troubling exchange in which Peter had debated whether it was possible to have a birthday before someone was officially born.  Jarvis now thought Peter was utterly insane, but still seemed to like the kid.  It was impossible not to.

What did you do for your lover on his pre-Birthday?  They couldn’t have a party.  Peter had no one to invite and that was just going to be depressing.  He couldn’t give Peter a physical gift because he’d never be able to take it with him when he left.   If Tony ever let him leave, anyway.  A trip was out of the question, Peter would balk about being away from the Nullifier for that long.  He could convince the boy to take a few hours off, but more than a day…that was never going to happen.  Never mind that they’d already been at the job of repairing it for months.

The answer came to him quite unexpectedly, but it really was perfect.  It was going to be expensive.  It was going to take time, but Tony had both.

August tenth, after breakfast, Tony convinced Peter to take the morning off, though he said nothing about Peter’s birthday.  Not yet.  Peter didn’t suspect anything until Tony pulled his sports car into a parking spot at a lot for Forest Park in Queens.  Only then did the teenager pivot in his seat to fix Tony with a questioning look.  His confusion clear on his face.

“Happy B-day Peter!”

Peter just stared at him.  “Uh…thanks.  I guess.”

He clearly had no idea why Tony had brought him to Forest Park, but that was all going to become clear in a moment.  “I couldn’t think of what to do to make this special.  Thought a lot about it.  Had a lot of crazy ideas.  Settled on this one.  So…Peter, are you ready to meet your very much alive and breathing parents?”

If Peter looked surprised now, Tony was sure that finding out they were S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents was going to be a real Kodak moment.

[rocinantescoffeestop]

Anthony “Tony” Stark, age 21, reads eulogy at his parents funeral on Dec. 22, 1991

or, in other words, the fanfiction I write at 00:14 because the idea of Tony being and angery smol at his parents funeral wouldn’t leave my head as I was trying to sleep. Pre-Series, duh. FYI: I didn’t edit, just wrote and posted, so please ignore the switching of tenses. I’m exhausted and too impatient to edit. Thank.

“Okay, so…”

The boy at the stand swallowed nervously. He never got nervous, never. Teachers loved and hated that about him, peers admired that about him, and his best friend, Rhodey, rolled his eyes at that fact about him. Here and now, standing before the gathering of people his parents’ lives had touched, Tony felt too small for the pulpit, too weak for words on the page before him, and too emotionally-charged to think clearly. In the front row, right where Tony could see, sat the only two people who mattered to him. There was Rhodey, his best friend and brother, and Obadiah, the figure more fatherly than his own father.

“I’m gonna use a, uh, script this time,” he said, lifting the page off the pulpit enough for the audience to see. “I don’t– can’t really remember…” He shook his head. “You know what? I’m just going to start. Yeah, I’m gonna start.”

He took in a deep breath.

“It’s funny that, um, the last time you see someone, you usually don’t think it’s going to be like that. I mean, I was just on the couch after some big flight in when Dad walks in and suddenly announces he’s going someplace, and he’s taking Mom, too? I mean, not surprising. It always happens. Since ever, I could hardly get a, uh, a moment alone, you know… with him…”

Tony sighs. The air leaves his mouth through his top and bottom front teeth. His tightly-wound jar turn the sound into a crisp but soft blast, like two pieces of cardboard sliding suddenly across each other. “You know what…?” he mumbles, but it is loud enough that the front three rows can hear him. He surveys the audience before looking down at the page in front of him. None of the words felt right. Absolutely none. He sneers at the paragraphs, then lifts his head up to regard each and every face bearing into him. He normally loved the spotlight. Today, he hated it. As usual, he buried that deep-set hatred and proceeded in a manner he always strove to be” completely aloof.

"Sometimes, I feel like I hardly even knew my Dad, for starters. Everyone else probably knew him way better, what with all the newsreels and shit. Surely, a father should have some time to spend with his son?” He left the question hanging, but the way he pronounced every goddamned syllable made the answer crystal clear: not MY dad. “Mom could always bring him down for a bit. Almost always. Half the time. Well. Whatever.”

Tony shrugged. He hoped everyone was drinking in his heartless act. He was NOT sad. He was NOT sad! He refused to feel even the edge of sorrow with the tip of his toe.

“I guess if she had to go, he better, too, because god or whatever forbid I have to stand him alone.”

His words were even MORE clipped than before, his voice hard as iron, his jaw as rigid as stone. He never realised just how much anger boiled inside him. It churned like a hurricane trapped and straining to be free. Dark grey storm clouds. Lightning flashing. Winds hurtling around a central point at hundreds of miles per hour. The faces in front of him blinked; some gasped and others glared. Rhodes was giving him a both pained and fierce, shut up now! look. Obie merely shook his head at nothing in particular, but Tony knew. Brown eyes flicked down at the page and jumped in their sockets to find the page crumpled in a tight fist, knuckles already turning from red to white. He couldn’t even see the residual red marks from yesterday’s fit of repeatedly striking the wall.

He totally clenched his fingers around the page and dragged it off the podium. His teeth ground together.

“I’m not–“ –he gulped down a sob, but his sentence derailed before he could get a handle on such an emotional outburst. “To my dead parents, everyone,” he spat.

Nothing and no one stopped him as he stomped down from the stand, down the aisle, and kicked open the door at the very end. The heavy slab of mahogany slammed into the exterior wall with an ear-shattering bang, but Tony remained the only one who didn’t jump in shock or fear (or both) at the sound.

“Thanks for nothing,” he muttered darkly, hoping the words might catch in the wind and blow to wherever dead souls gathered. He wanted his father to know, without a doubt, how much it sucked to be here without a decent memory to hold onto. Everything sucked.

Life sucked.

So, he hid himself behind a particularly large trunk of a tree and let loose the tears he promised he would never show anyone, not even the audience inside.

Especially not them.

[timeisacephalopod]

Phoenix!Tony post civil war. Tony dies in Siberia and all that remains when Captain America returns is a suit full ash but soon the sound of crying draws him to the shadow of the base and is shocked to see familiar brown eyes looking up at him from this infant. Will Steve abandon this child to the world like he did his friend or can he make up for past sins if he raised him like his own. +Bonus points for Tony rapidly aging to adulthood as a defense mechanism.

Ok, I kind of wrote what takes place after the prompt- so this is post Steve finding Tony. Also, Rhodey takes him from Steve.

**

Rhodey takes the baby from Steve given that he happens to know what’s going on. “That kid looks a lot like Tony,” he says and Rhodey doesn’t dignify that with a response. At the moment his dumb best friend had to get his feather-y ass rescued by the guy that abandoned him in Siberia to begin with.

“You better age fast, asshole, because I’m not changing your diaper,” he tells Tony.

*

Pepper watches as toddler sized Tony runs past. “How many lives does a phoenix have?” she asks. “Because he dies a lot.”

Yeah, at least a couple times in Afghanistan, a couple times Rhodey knew of before then, he ended up dead once after the whole New York thing form heart failure, and then in Siberia. And that’s only the number of times Rhodey knows about. There’s been at least one incident where Tony casually mentioned dying when he didn’t know about said death previously. Which is how he found out about him dying post New York. Rhodey has no idea how he survives the baby stage even with the rapid aging thing. Which, thank god for that because bite sized Tony sucks. He’s got all the genius brain and memories of his lives and deaths so far but all the energy that comes with being a kid.

Now, when that process stops is a toss up. Sometimes when he’s in his teens, a few times in his twenties or thirties, and once at his actual age, but how and why it happens the way it does is a mystery. “I don’t know. Tones, how many lives do you have? Like nine or something? Like a cat?” he asks and Tony stops and stares at him, looking shockingly judgmental for a fucking five year old.

“Phoenixes are immortal,” Tony tells them. “I thought I explained this? Also, fireproof.”

Yeah Rhodey knows that on account of him lighting himself on fire accidentally in the lab and not bothering to pay attention to it until Rhodey started freaking out.

He sighs, “okay, you know what. People forget things okay, your baby ass was pulled out of some ashes and your suit before you were brought back here. How was I supposed to remember you can’t actually die? Side note, can phoenixes make other people phoenixes? Like can you bite me and make me immortal?” he asks, shocked this hasn’t come up before. Though to be fair, the first time Tony died he was losing his shit because the man burned alive in front of his face and then ended up a fucking baby in some ashes. He thinks he had a right to be freaked out in the moment. And then the next set of times that he knows about were in Afghanistan so obviously he had bigger concerns. And then New York which, again, bigger problems. Then now and yeah there are bigger problems but he’s used to high stakes and almost dying all the time and also pulling Tony’s dumb pasty ass out of some ashes. That’s normal now, only took two decades but still.

Tony squints, “I’m a phoenix, not a werewolf. No I can’t bite you and turn you. Phoenixes have to be born, presumably to phoenix parents but I don’t think mine were phoenixes. But my research leads me to believe that sometimes phoenix parents don’t reduce phoenix offspring, but they still carry the gene and occasionally it passes on in the right way, creating a new phoenix,” Tony says.

All that sounds weird as fuck coming out of an actual ass child but okay.

“How high is the phoenix population?” Pepper asks. “I had no idea phoenixes existed or that you were one,” she says, sounding a little upset.

“Huh. I thought you were one for a long time. Usually we’re redheads and- doesn’t matter because you’re human. I have no idea what the phoenix population is. Its hardly like we’re all win contact with each other. Not that I haven’t tried, but I’ve only ever found fifty other phoenixes world wide. Don’t think that’s all of us, but we aren’t really plentiful either,” he says.

“That sounds lonely,” Pepper says but Tony shrugs, clearly resigned.

*

Tony’s in bed, resenting his tiny size even though he’s approximately ten by now when someone walks into his room. He’d throw a fireball if not for the familiar shadow on the wall. Steve. He pretends to be asleep, not interested in dealing with this bullshit at the moment. As far as he knew Steve was in Wakanda and that’s fine by him. T’Challa can deal with him.

He doesn’t leave even though, no matter how hard Tony hopes he will. He sits down on the bed beside Tony and sighs softly before settling a hand on his body. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs and maybe that’s what Tony wanted once but now he’s past that. The man left him to die in Siberia after not telling him his parents were murdered by his best friend. There’s only so much of that that’s forgivable. And maybe Tony’s done too much to be forgiven too- neither of them need this anymore.

He remains still, hoping Steve will go but he doesn’t. Instead he sticks around for long enough that Tony gets annoyed of pretending to be asleep. “Just go,” he tells Steve, resenting the fact that he sounds like a fucking squeak toy. God, puberty is going to suck. Again.

Steve jumps, clearly surprised by his voice. “You’re awake,” he says- almost asks.

“No shit I’m awake, now fuck off,” Tony tells him.

Steve sputters for a moment, “well that’s rude,” he says, clearly responding to the fact that Tony looks and sounds like a child rather than his words. God he hates that.

He sits up and glares at Steve, something Rhodey tells him is unnerving given his childlike features. “What, you think you can walk in here and just apologize to me while I’m asleep and act like everything is fine? I died Steve. You killed me. And to add insult to injury it was after you kept a major secret from me about one of the most important events in my life. Fuck you for thinking a couple of words would somehow make that go away,” he snaps.

For a moment Steve falters, maybe not knowing what to do with the information that he’d killed Tony given that he’s clearly alive, if bite sized, looking at him. But he suffered major damage and there’s only so much he can take even with being stronger than the average human. And no, he’s sure Steve didn’t want to kill him, not really given that he had a chance. But he did think about it for a moment, shield raised above his head, before he slammed it into his chest and crushed his ribs like that was an improvement. Then he left him here with no way to escape the suit, Tony had had to fumble around to get the pieces away from him despite his injuries because he knew the flames were coming and he didn’t much want to be a baby stuck in a suit cavity.

It sucked and Steve doesn’t get to apologize for that. Its just too much, neither of them have any trust in the other and if Tony’s honest he doesn’t think there was ever a time when Steve trusted him. The first thing he did when Tony mentioned back deal arms was assume he sold them and that’s why he knew about it, not that he didn’t want another Obadiah to ever pull that shit with him again so he made sure to educate himself on the subject. And that’s one of what seems like a million instances where Steve assumed the worst.

Not like he hasn’t returned the favor either, so what the hell is the point? From day one they never got along and maybe they were both stupid enough to think they got past that but evidence shows they didn’t. There’s no sense in apologizing when they both know it’ll happen again.

“That’s not what- Tony, I just wanted to make things right,” he says softly.

Tony works to keep the fiery rage inside on account of Rhodey not wanting to clean up after an outburst. He’d do it himself but Rhodey is a back seat cleaner and mostly ends up taking over anyway, wheel chair be damned. “Oh grow up Steve, we’re past making things right and have been for years. We’ve never gotten along and we’ve never had each other’s backs. Go back to your Bucky and I’ve got Rhodey and Pepper. I never needed you,” he says. And you never needed me hangs in the air too, but he doesn’t need to say that.

*

Rhodey laughs at the look on Tony’s face. “Go on, go play with the other kids,” he says, snorting and laughing. Pepper snaps a picture of him from behind Rhodey.

“I hate you both and I will have you know I have too much dignity to play in a damn park thank you,” Tony tells them.

“Not even when you’re small enough to fit on a swing without your legs hitting the ground?” Pepper asks.

The fact that Tony immediately turns and gives the swings a longing look has Rhodey cracking back up again as Pepper starts laughing too. But its the fact that Tony starts trudging over to the swing set looking pissed off with himself that sends them both into hysterics.

[dabblinginmarvel]

Enhanced in Sokovia (Part 3)

Plot: Y/N, the first success of three from Strucker’s Enhanced experiments, escapes from Sokovia and runs into the Avengers, then helps them return for Loki’s staff. Following the events of Age of Ultron, Y/N and Pietro go from enemies into a romance.

Part 1        Part 2

A/N: Pietro is briefly in here, but he’s full-force in the next part, I promise.

Warnings: Mentions of torture spread throughout, bad words, not edited as much as I’d like

Word Count Total: 2026

Title: Enhanced in Sokovia

Part 3

It didn’t take the team in what they called the “Quinjet” as long as you expected to get to Sokovia. Soon, they were on the ground and on the move.

But somewhere along the way, they set off an alarm. The alarm had to be new because you couldn’t recall setting something off when you ran from the place.

“Shit!” Tony said into the mouthpiece in his helmet. You saw the view from his suit and the suit cams on most of the other team members.

“Language! JARVIS, what's the view from upstairs?” Steve yelled.

“The central building is protected by some kind of energy shield. Strucker's technology is well beyond any other Hydra base we've taken.”

An energy shield. That must have been what you ran through when you ran away.

“Loki's scepter must be here. Strucker couldn't mount this defense without it. At long last.”

Natasha knocked out a couple guys. “At long last is lasting a little long, boys.”

“Yeah. I think we lost the element of surprise.” Clint knocked his arrow as you hid a snicker. Maria caught your eye from your left and you saw the laughter in her eyes, too.

“Wait a second. No one else is going to deal with the fact that Cap just said ‘language?’” Tony asked and you had to cover your mouthpiece because you couldn’t hide your laugh.

“I know. It just slipped out.”

“Y/N, I think you’re on,” Tony said as if Steve hadn’t spoken, landing on the base, sliding a little.

Before you could speak, JARVIS said, “Sir, the city is taking fire.”

“Well, we know Strucker's not going to worry about civilian casualties. Send in the Iron Legion.”

Maria switched to a camera on the Iron Legion and you leaned over. You watched the civilians protest against the Iron Legion.

“They don’t seem to be taking it well, do they JARVIS?” That’s when you came to the conclusion that Tony had something to do with the attack on the city, otherwise the civilians wouldn’t be reacting in this way. You didn’t know how to take this and your head began to spin. You were in this position because of Tony? Did he know?

You tried to focus on the fight, but it ate at your mind.

Clint got knocked over by a whirlwind. The whirlwind stopped, and smirked at him – wait, smirked, this was a blonde guy and had to have been another person in the program – and said, “You didn’t see that coming?”

He was kind of cute, but you were more interested in his powers.

Clint tried to shoot an arrow at him, but got hit by a shot instead.

You watched as they continued to beat their way in, Tony blasting the shield’s power source.

“Drawbridge is down, people.”

“The enhanced?” asked Thor.

“He's a blur. All the new player's we've faced, I've never seen this. In fact, I still haven't.”

Nat evac-ed Clint out with Thor’s help and Tony enters the building.

So that’s how they referred to you? Enhanced? But what did it really matter right now? You had bigger things to focus on – like how Tony is the one who broke your city and now he was back for more.

Maria shook your shoulder. “Y/N.”

“Huh?”

“Tony needs your help.”

There were more important things to do than worry about your feelings. “Oh. Right.”

“Everything alright?”

You nodded and turned back to the computer. “I’m here, sorry.”

You walked him into the building and through the hallways. You lost contact with him when he stepped out of the suit and set it on sentry mode. He still had contact with JARVIS, though. “Okay, JARVIS. You know I want it all. Make sure you copy Hill at HQ.”

They brought Banner in from Hulk and Tony had JARVIS scan the wall, reporting that there was something hiding behind the wall and Tony went through the secret passageway. Steve ran into another “enhanced” before announcing he had Strucker. You took off the headpiece you had and left the room, ignoring Maria.

These kids had powers, too, but they were voluntarily defending the facility. One was fast and the other could manipulate just about everything she touched.

And Tony…. But he was so kind to you, how could he have done this?

You would have to ask him when he returned, you supposed.

When the team returned, you walked into the Quinjet with Maria.

“Lab’s all set up, boss.”

“Uh, actually, he's the boss. I just pay for everything, and design everything and make everyone look cooler.” Tony pointed at Steve. you tried to smile at it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to.

Maria and Steve walked out discussing Strucker and the other “enhanced,” leaving you with Tony.

Tony stood up, noticing your look immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“You remember I told you about my family and why I got sold to the “enhanced” project?” You used your fingers for the quotations.

He nodded.

“Did you know it was because of you that Sokovia suffered?”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Because of me? Where would you get this from?”

“The Iron Legion faced resistance from the people today. They knew it was you. They hate the Avengers, too. So tell me, why was it my town? Why did we have to suffer? Why did this happen to us?”

“Y/N, try to believe me when I say I didn’t know it was my name that destroyed your town. I wasn’t even in control of my dad’s company until seven years ago. Someone else helmed it. I’m not proud that I didn’t try to stop Obadiah sooner, and I’m sorry your town suffered for it. I’m sorry you ended up suffering for it.”

The anger shrunk inside you. It may have been his name, but it wasn’t him, so it wasn’t his fault. “Tony, I’m sorry, too. If you didn’t control the company, then you didn’t do it. It wasn’t you.”

“I’ll take full responsibility for it, though.”

You stepped forward and hugged him. He hesitated at first, then hugged back.

“Listen, there’s going to be a party tonight. If you want to come out of your room for it, you’re welcome there, and if you don’t, then stay clear of the entertaining room.”

“I’ll try it out.”

“Great. Nat’s already shoved some party attire in your closet.”

“If I had said no, then would she have removed it?”

He laughed and guided you out of the Quinjet.

Later that night, everyone, including Clint all healed thanks to Helen Cho, was at the party. Including you. You had chosen one of the outfits Natasha had added and decided to try out a party. It was enormous and noisy and with lots of people. At first, you wanted to turn and high tail it out of there, but you reminded yourself it was just out of your comfort zone and you had to try at least one. Soon enough, you were listening to Rhodey tell a War Machine story. Tony and Thor didn’t laugh, but you smiled.

“So, no Pepper? She’s not coming?” he asked Tony.

“No.”

Maria looked just as puzzled. “Hey, what about Jane? Where are the ladies, gentlemen?”

“Well, Miss Potts has a company to run.”

“Yes, I'm not even sure what country Jane's in. Her work on the convergence has made her the world's foremost astronomer.”

“And the company that Pepper runs is the largest tech conglomerate on earth. It's pretty exciting.”

“There's even talk of Jane getting a... um, uh... Nobel prize.”

“Yeah, they...they must be busy because they'd hate missing you guys get together.” Maria pretended to cough “Testosterone! Oh, excuse me.”

“Want a lozenge?” Rhodey asked.

Maria agreed and they walked away. You couldn’t help but look at the two men with exasperation.

“What?” Tony asked.

“If you have to ask the question….” You walked away to try your hand at mingling.

Once the party dwindled, everyone was trying their hand at lifting Thor’s weapon. It was some type of hammer, something called “Meul-neer” or something. You didn’t quite understand, but you got the gist of it. Clint failed, Tony failed, and Rhodey failed. Even Bruce and his attempt to lure out Hulk. It came around to Steve and he managed to get it to budge. Steve could lift it, but you saw him let it go and pretend to fail. You weren’t sure if it was a teasing thing from Tony or to not embarrass Thor, but you knew. You knew Thor knew, too.

“Widow?” asked Bruce. She declined. You sat back far enough to not get called on.

“All deference to the man who wouldn't be king, but it's rigged.”

Clint shrugged. “You bet your ass.”

“Steve, he said a bad language word,” Maria laughed.

“Did you tell everyone about that?”

“I have a simpler theory. You’re all not worthy.” Thor flips the hammer in his hand.

A screech sounds through the tower and you covered your ears with your hands.

“Worthy... No... How could you be worthy? You're all killers.” A busted-up robot staggers in.

This robot, as it turned out, was something called Ultron.

The Iron Legion burst through the walls and grabbed for the team. You ducked and used a ball of air to push Tony out of the way of fire from Ultron’s extra bots. The others fought back, too. Eventually, Tony hopped onto the back of one of them and attempted to disarm it as Steve caught his shield from Clint and hit the only remaining Iron Legion in sight.

Ultron started monologuing about evolving and Thor smashed him to pieces with the hammer.

“There are no strings on me….” The robot sang into oblivion.

You ran your hands over your face and raced after the others as they ran to the lab. Ultron had wiped everything from the computers. Including JARVIS. Ultron had killed JARVIS. Your eyes got misty as you looked at the projected image of what JARVIS had been; you had liked that AI.

“JARVIS was the first line of defense. He would've shut Ultron down, it makes sense.” Steve explained.

“No, Ultron could've assimilated Jarvis. This isn't strategy, this is...rage.”

“It’s going around,” said Clint as Thor grabbed Tony by the throat. He finally let him down when Steve called for a report on the Legionnaire. They had gone north with Loki’s scepter. Great, now you had to go after it again. You turned to look over your shoulder as pain blossomed. Natasha stepped over to you, noticing your movement, and then pulled you aside. She helped pull a giant shard of glass out of your shoulder and you both listened to the bickering of everyone else.

“Nat, I don’t know if I’m up for this.”

“None of us are, do you hear them? Crazy-ass men, let me tell you.”

“Is this the craziest thing you’ve faced?”

She shook her head. “No. You didn’t see the alien invasion three years ago.”

“Alien invasion?”

She hummed out a yes as she began to patch up the hole in your shoulder.

“You guys are nuts.”

“And you fit right on in, kiddo.” She winked and you smiled a little.

A little later, Steve re-gathered you all together in a much nicer room in front of a computer. The discussion was all on Strucker.

“Y/N, do you think you have any ideas as to what Strucker knew that Ultron might want to hide?” Steve asked. You shook your head as Tony pulled out physical files.

“Not everything was erased.”

“Known associates,” Steve said. “Well, Strucker had a lot of friends.”

“Well, these people are all horrible,” said Bruce.

Tony stopped Steve as he flipped through the pages. “Wait, I know that guy.”

Klaue, as he was called, had a scar in the shape of a brand on his neck and Bruce searched databases for it.

“Oh, yeah. It's a word in an African dialect meaning thief, in a much less friendly way.”

“What dialect?” asked Steve.

“Wakanada? Wa-Wakanda.”

“I don’t get it. What comes out of Wakanda?” you asked.

“The strongest metal on earth.” He gestured to Steve’s shield.

- - -

Masterlist

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[oelfinessend]

just can’t handle it, must get round to it

Hello, @tsukiharu​. Here’s your secret santa step in. I’m incredibly sorry for the delay, but I was stranded away from decent coverage and electricity, and had to climb the roof to check my mail :/. Moreover, by the time you replied I’ve already began writing and while I certainly have ideas for your prompts they will take a while to write properly if you’d still want them. My attempt at arranged marriage and courtship has run away as early as the second page, so all I can do is give you this bizarre AU and hope you won’t hate me :[

Find the fic on <a href=“http://archiveofourown.org/works/13460478“>ao3</a> or in this post.

‘Greater than many you will fly.’ They wrote. ’Higher than your wildest dreams you will be taken.’ Was promised. ‘And for all will be price.’

Except Tony won’t fly and pay the price because he is Howard’s price, carelessly promised for many trinkets.

He knows it since before he can remember, that his father agreed to give away his own child for a chance to find Captain America.

He also knows that whatever his being a ‘price’ might entail so far it involves him being miserable, added with impressive substance abuse and whole weeks he spends in his workshop. Tony has his workshop only because of Obie, who allows him to invent, to think, to create. Aside from his bots and JARVIS, he can converse only with Obie and Rhodey. The staff is afraid of him and the world seems to be focused entirely on his every move, analysing the rare precedent of a prayer being answered.

Tony meets Pep like that. She masks her gentle curiosity and the following pity very well and later they disappear whatsoever, and for that he will be forever grateful. This is the lifeline that allows him to keep going, to live while Howard Stark becomes a husk of himself with eyes still burning with unholy fire, with the spite of the damned. He is a recluse, immersed in his projects that promise to drain the Stark fortune. SI is all but given to Obadiah who likes to lure Tony into his dealings and Tony hires a maddeningly competent Virginia Potts to be left  with the only thing he really cares about - making stuff.

Soon enough, Pep is involved in SI far more than she is in Tony’s life, which is understandable, and somehow Tony finds himself looking at his new assistant. The guy is standing right in his workshop, looking friendly and soft around the edges. Then it turns out it’s impossible to chase this intruder away, his soft edges are bullshit and soon Tony finds himself snarking back at Adam.

He’s awesome, that guy who grasps Tony’s jargon and ideas and keeps up and gives as good as he gets and doesn’t take any bullshit thrown at him. Adam is putting Tony on edge, though, the puzzle pieces never quite fitting and something always missing in the picture.

Two or so months of amazing creative process later, Tony is doodling idly, having just showered and eaten, because Adam is a prude and won’t go anywhere near if Tony ‘is not presentable’.

This is the day everything goes to shit, because Howard decides to show his zombie face an hour before Obie storms in, demanding to see Tony.

Obie narrows his eyes at Adam, demanding to state his identity, while Adam looks bored and unimpressed, which is his default expression. In fact, he looks unnervingly interested in Howard, which kinda makes Tony hate them both (and, as usual, hate himself, because what else could he have expected, what did he think, he could be interest-)

“Address me in that manner once more and your tongue shall be buried ahead of you.”

This is a growl and everything falls silent. Adam smiles his thin smile and cocks his head.

“Who are you?” This is the first time Tony’s heard his father speak in years and his voice is scratchy, low. His eyes are still unnerving, portraying his unyielding focus. Adam keeps on with being unimpressed, though, only moves and paces around Howard, looking him up and down.

“Midgard’s grown disrespectful since I’ve last visited it.” He muses and changes, just like that, his hair growing longer from its stylish cut, skin pales and eyes grow green, so bright that Tony can actually discern the colour from across the room. Then not-Adam is moving back towards Tony, his movements smoother, somehow more powerful and just as the transformation the fact that Tony isn’t scared is baffling. He is actually relieved. This is some closure, finally, to (not) Adam’s unnerving edge and clearly, the bullshit ‘price’ thing is coming to its end.

“Are you Adam?” Tony asks carefully, his lizard brain alarmed at that prowl.

Head cocked, eyes laughing, the man smiles. “I am Loki.” Is all he replies.

Loki. Tony knows that name, he’s spent countless hours reading on any supernatural being known to the Internet and Loki is… interesting. Not really appropriate, in Tony’s opinion and surprising, given Howard’s prayer.

Apparently satisfied with whatever reaction on Tony’s face he sees Loki smiles again and sprawls into a chair, impressively pulling off his almost whore-like posture. “Now you may leave us alone.” He addresses both Obie and Howard and both dig their heels.

“I’m not leaving Tony with whoever you are.” Obie intones darkly and Howard steps forward, looking almost feverish.

“Who are you to appear in my home and demand this after making me wait for so many years!” He almost shouts and his voice breaks slightly out of disuse.

Loki sighs irritably. “Mages of Asgard cannot break a prayer-bound promise. Your demand was heard and it was satisfied - your mind was clear and fast for many years, was it not?” He waves dismissively as Howard opens his mouth. “Don’t let your hubris blind you, mortal. No one on Midgard is able to go weeks without any sleep and yet your thinking was unhindered. Such was the blessing given to you. Whatever you decided to do with it concerns me not and I am beginning to tire of your presence.” He smiles at the procured indignation and turns to Obie. “And you don’t have to worry, mayhaps if the Fates favour us we can all go to Afghanistan.”

At that Obie pales strangely and seems to deflate. Looking bored, Loki switches his gaze to Tony. “This is getting ridiculous. I will await in your workroom.”

Left alone and gaping at the empty chair, Tony scrambles away from Howard’s burning glare and Obie’s thoughtful one. As stated, Loki is in his workshop, occupying his usual place with his newfound dramatic flair.

Loki patiently sits through Tony’s almost-meltdown and only blinks at the following barrage of questions. It happens that Loki is a prince and a mage (ha! Tony will need far more than a couple of parlor tricks to even contain his laughter, never mind taking this seriously) and the Head Seidrmaster in Asgard. It doesn’t really matter except that it totally does, because apparently Howard’s half-assed (by Loki’s standards) prayer reached one of those seidr-people and for whatever reason they decided to go along.

“A prayer gives a remarkable bout of power, of happiness.” Loki explains patiently, giving off surprisingly Pepper-like vibes. “An inexperienced mage has to be exceptionally strong of will to resist that. Uldr was not.”

Tony snorts. He doesn’t really care (he does, a little, Loki is a living story and also a lot of people would literally give their limb for a chance to talk to him).

“When I found out about the deal it was too late.” Loki purses his lips unhappily, eyes becoming hard. “And the duty of overseeing this fell to me.” He makes a vague gesture with his left hand. “I admit I have forgotten about the Midgardian lifespan and allowed myself to linger a bit too long.”

Tony huffs, asks about the lifespan thing and blinks at the answer. Five thousand Asgard’s years, Loki says, more for a mage. Asgard’s year is nearly four of Earth’s.

Talk about unimaginable scales, Tony honestly can’t comprehend the life where decades are nothing, where your milestones are hundreds.

His mind blanks out a bit at that and when Tony finally scrambles his brains back in order he finds himself alone.

There is very little time for him to begin feeling abandoned or offended because soon he hears the commotion. By the time Tony decides to investigate he is again in Loki’s company and for a change the other man looks pleased.

The following days are, for a lack of a better word, busy. Everyone has a lot to do; Howard is trying to pin Loki down and get something from him, Loki vanishes and appears as he pleases, his mood changing just as suddenly. Obie is suspiciously docile while Pep is busy arranging the business so that it belongs to Tony. That is a sudden development and apparently both Howard and Obie are okay with Loki basically telling them what to do. Well, not really, Howard is all of a sudden a lot more present in the mansion and Tony’s life. Tony is busy planning building his own tower where he will live as far from this gloomy place as possible. He discovers that managing a company is fucking hard, especially if you just basically got it and the attention he thought he is accustomed to is even more intense and seemingly every person in the world wants something from you.

Loki doesn’t help. In fact, Loki revels in the chaos, which is unsurprising, given his title. He refuses to accept numerous invitations or even pleas coming for him. At the same time, he somehow helps Tony, because navigating people is hard and Loki knows how it’s done. It’s pleasant, even, that change of pace and scenery, the constant challenge and, most importantly, the freedom. For the first time Tony is able to get out, to do as he chooses and give a finger to anyone objecting. Not always and not really, but he moves out and never looks back.

***

“What you are describing is marriage.” Tony says flatly, looking down at Loki. Which is only because he’s standing six feet higher, overseeing the construction of his tower. Because now he can build himself a fucking tower.

“Yes, in your language and culture that is the closest concept.” Loki allows and returns the look. He manages to stare Tony down, the fucker. “But you need to take into consideration that ‘the marriage’ as you know it is just the most long lived and respected form of union on Midgard, which is untrue for most of the other Realms. I’ve been married by Aesir customs, married twice.” He jumps to Tony, covering fifteen feet in one effortless leap. “What the All-Father demands is different.”

“I don’t care.”

Tony doesn’t, he doesn’t care about some medieval crap with predestiny and respectful unions.

“‘Medieval.’” Loki spits. “Your charming egotism will help in your business, I think.” He smiles toothily at Tony’s outraged grimace. “Your conservative and limited brain is so busy clutching at comforting concepts you can’t even hear me properly.”

“Conservative and limited?” Tony hisses in disbelief, because wow. “Explain how is your magic-bound shit is not limited? It was without my fucking consent and now I need to fucking marry you because some guy I don’t even believe exists says so!”

“Consent.” Loki snorts. “Don’t cheapen the word. Your father consented for you, as is your land’s custom. It can’t be marriage because I am not a lawful citizen of Midgard so this argument is obsolete. And it’s not marriage by the Asgard’s law, Anthony.”

“Yes, we are just bound by your voodoo shit and take responsibility for each other’s actions. Wow, that’s not marriage at all.”

Loki’s eyes narrow and face relaxes, which is beyond alarming, he’s on his way to being livid.

“Not by Asgard’s law.” He repeats in a soft, calm voice. “And what a hardship it will be, with that law not recognized on Midgard and as such you being a man free to pursue whatever fancy might strike you. Ah, what a burden to be protected by the royal House of Odin, to have an opportunity to learn the ways other realms live and evolve, to perfect your inventions in ways unimaginable to any on Midgard.” He gives a tender smile, which gives an unpleasant contrast to the offended fury of his glare. “But that’s a scientist’s reasoning, so what am I even thinking?”

And, because he loves having the last word, Loki disappears. Tony swears loudly and explicitly, hoping that the words will reach their target.

Loki doesn’t pop out the following day, or week, or month. Tony goes from scared to angry to repentant to offended to furious.

By the time the bastard decides to finally show his face the Tower is ready, a shiny, perfect thing better than anything Tony could’ve dream of. In a fit, tied in knots about Loki’s absence, he decided to stop with the weapons and now is busy dealing with the fallout. The press hounds him, Obie keeps throwing him dark looks and even always flawless Pep looks harried.

Tony arranges for a new PA and that is exactly when a timid-looking guy decides to throw a fucking grenade at him. Tony is too busy staring as the grenade is being disintegrated by a golden mist to hear the crunch of bones.

He looks up at Pep’s scream and follows the guy as he drops to Loki’s feet, his head turned almost 180. There’s a moment of silence and they are alone again, body vanishing along with Loki.

“You fucking motherfucker.” Tony growls, which is a bit lame, but whatever. What the fuck is he thinking, disappearing and then-

Loki is here again, with a loud, uncharacteristic noise. He looks at Pepper and throws another body at her feet.

“I though corporate espionage is against the law on Midgard.” He sneers, nudging at the woman. “Or do you invite killers willfully?”

Pepper, bless her, calms down immediately and peers down at the woman, who, Tony can see now, is alive and just unconscious.

“Are you bleeding?” Is what she asks next and Tony snaps his eyes higher. Loki’s lips press together and it brings out the unhealthy grayness of his face.

“Look out for her.” Is his reply.

“Wait a second.” Tony springs into action, cursing himself for standing there like an idiot. Loki picks up the woman and gives Tony an unimpressed stare.

“We need to talk”. Tony says quickly but it’s too late.

He curses again and turns away from Pep’s curious and pitying eyes.

Fucker, selfish fucker, that Loki.

Tony doesn’t bother with goodbye, just goes to his fabulous penthouse and pulls the feed. He tells himself it’s purely to learn who wants him dead but in truth he concentrates on Loki as he appears in a burst of sparks and grasps the man’s head, long fingers sure, experienced. Loki sways a little as he pick the body up and sways again when he reappears with the woman - who Tony needs to investigate also - and Loki’s never swayed, even when he played his part as Adam.

He hates himself for the fact that all of his anger and indignation disappear and now there is only worry and brittle hope, stronger than ever, because Loki protected him, he obviously came because that golden thingy alerted him and the fact that Tony was, err, spelled, apparently, is a bit condescending but mostly returns the warmth missing since after their last conversation.

Tony hates that he is mostly okay with the weird not-really-marriage thing because it will give him an added leverage to pin Loki down and explore other planets, fuck that, other star systems, Tony was really having a childish reaction. Maybe he needed the time to stew and think this shit over, who knows. Now he just hopes that Loki’s alright and comes back soon. He chases the thoughts of ‘six months are nothing to his fifteen thousand years, he can disappear for a year this time’ away with effort. Tony hopes.

“Sir.” JARVIS wakes him gently. “Sir, you have a guest.”

“Whatever.” Tony yawns, tries to stretch his neck.

“It’s Mr Odinson.” J says with a hint of gentle reproach and Tony bolts out of his chair.

“The living room, sir.” JARVIS provides.

Loki is standing in front of the glass wall (because Tony’s had enough of the mansion’s semi-darkness), cutting an impressive figure against the windows. For the first time he’s dressed in not Earth’s clothes. There is a lot of leather and what looks like gold designs on his boots and sleeves.

At Tony’s steps Loki turns around, revealing more gold on his high collar and what looks like a stylized breastplate. He looks kinda like the prince he claims to be.

“You needed to talk.” Loki says evenly, keen eyes watching as Tony moves forward and politely looks at Loki’s face and not his alien clothes.

“Yeah, well.” This is so uncomfortable, fuck. “Want a drink?”

After a moment of consideration Loki inclines his head. His gaze presses on Tony as he moves to the bar and waves in the direction of the couch, hoping the gesture is welcoming and effortless, not dismissive.

Loki is surprisingly omnivorous so Tony takes a decanter of whiskey, because there’s no way he’s living through this conversation sober. By the time he makes it to the chair Loki’s already settled, more collected than his usual sprawl of limbs.

“I have conversed with JARVIS briefly.” Loki starts and Tony, who was just a second ago busy manning up to apologize, is blindsided a bit. “He has new servers and capacity, isn’t he better as your assistant?”

The question is voiced with a gentle curiosity, which is very polite, and Tony hates it. He snorts and waves his glass.

“But I programmed J and I can silent him. That’s sometimes counterproductive.”

He waits for a snort or a derisive smile at ‘counterproductive’, but it never comes and Tony frowns. “C’mon, what’s with that diplomatic stuff?” He can’t quite bring himself to apologize, not because he doesn’t feel guilty, but because- Tony doesn’t even know himself.

Loki’s eyes are unnaturally green and very bright.

“What do you wish to talk about?”

Honestly, sincerely, Tony just can’t. What the fuck is up with that bastard?

“What do you think? Where were you, why the fuck did you just leave and didn’t bother to, I don’t know, visit and rant at me? What’s that misty thing and what the fuck did it do to a grenade? Why weren’t the pen Pep threw at me three weeks ago misted away? Are you alright? Because you didn’t look all that great just this morning. Where did you take that guy and I really want to investigate, you know, my attempted assassination. And is all that shit with not-marriage still valid or  you just decided to fuck off for good?”

Loki’s brows shoot up at that last part and admittedly Tony has revealed a bit more than he intended.

“Hmm.” Loki visibly relaxes, his body sprawling more and face more open. He looks up. “In order: I think there are multiple questions you want to talk about, I have left because there were too many hurtful words on my mind and some blows are easy to make and hard to recover from.” Loki’s eyes are heavy under his slight frown. “I had no desire to make a visit for a quarrel and I have duties I needed to attend to on top of that. I left a protection spell working and it is somewhat sentient so it couldn’t react violently to the Lady Pepper’s pen. I am well, the alert came in a bit of situation but the Aesir are more resilient than you of Midgard and any wounds I received are healed by now. Your assailant's body is kept for future purposes and the union still needs to take place.”

“Somewhat sentient?” Tony repeats and forces himself back on track. “Well, thanks for holding back, I suppose.” He doesn’t know what to say. Tony feel stupidly grateful for that, shit, he is angry but he’s also glad that Loki didn’t eviscerate him, because he very well can, both with words and, apparently, with his bare hands, fuck. Tony just knows that he’s most likely will rewatch the footage of this evening when Loki leaves. With that thought in mind he blurts. “Are you staying over? There’s a floor for you.”

He wants to disappear as soon as he says that, but Loki brightens a bit, not a hint of derision on his face. “A floor for me?” He smiles, but it’s a pleased smile.

“Yeah, well, aren’t you a prince?” Tony tries for lighthearted. It was a foregone thing in his planning, even after Loki decided to hide his face, that there would be a place for him, and what a joke to give a guest room when Tony has the whole Tower and it’s Loki.

“Show me.” Loki says, as he always has, when he was Adam and demanded to know everything about Tony’s work and when he is Loki and wants to know everything about Tony’s life.

Loki likes his floor, which is a bit strange, because Tony had no idea what to do with the interior and left it as it is - bare walls, which makes him a bit of a dumbass to invite a guest to sleep on cement floor.

Still, Loki is obviously pleased. “Ah, and can I raise the walls as I see fit?”

Tony shrugs at that, because whatever. “You have to let me get J’s sensors here, though.”

“I’m afraid my seidr will intervene with their workings anyway, but I’ll think of something if that’s necessary.” Loki allows, making a dismissive gesture and successfully making every wall disappear. Tony blinks at the sudden illusion of low ceiling and turns around in light panic. Thankfully, the elevator is still present.

“Are you competing with the palace of Asgard, Anthony?” Loki asks with a smile as he steps around, looking back and forth. There are multiple shiny balls springing from his hands and floating around and giving the surroundings a warm hue.

“I’m Tony Stark.” Tony huffs in reply, which sounds a bit stupid but Loki nods in understanding. Then he makes a forceful step, more like a stomp and the space begins to morph.

In a matter of minutes they are standing in an inviting hall, with light walls and ceiling adorned with what looks like multiple polished crystals. Loki disappears into a wide, large arc of pale stone and by the time Tony catches up the next room is transformed also, there is a large black bowl in the middle, made of what appears to be semi-transparent rock.

“Is it one of your customs?” Tony calls while Loki is busy creating low padded stools or something. At the inquiring glance Tony shrugs and motions at the bowl. “I know you are not vikings but you must drink a lot.” The bowl is easily seven feet in diameter.

Loki looks uncommonly bewildered then he huffs. “It’s a fireplace, Anthony.”

“A- A what? It’s not a fireproof room!”

He receives an impressive eye roll in reply. Loki settles on a very soft-looking seat and gives Tony one last dirty look before dumping firewood and with a snap of fingers there is fire. Bright golden light which lights the bowl from the inside, making it rich red with deep blue streaks running roots-like from the bottom of the bowl.

“There will be no smoke.” Loki says, looking at the ceiling intently. There is nothing to see for a mortal eye but aside from pleasant warmth there is no smell or other sign of open fire. Tony settles closer to Loki and stares at the crackling fire.

“You can’t create matter.” He says at last because he can’t really think of anything else.

“Of course not.” Loki replies. “The law of Universe doesn’t work like that.”

“Right. Because you knew physics so well.”

It was Tony who had to explain everything to him, even if Loki is an exceptionally fast learner.

“Oh, do be more condescending. I never learned Midgard’s sciences and why would I? You have only recently began to get closer to understanding the world around you, while Svartalfar scholars knew how to create local singularities long before the birth of eucumene.” Loki snorts gently at the last word. “To be able to change the Universe at will one must understand how it works; to apply pressure at exactly the right point in the exact amount. This is what a mage is, and magic as you so charmingly laugh at is nothing like what I grew up learning. We do not deal in toad hearts or whatever your tales concocted. We study the workings of seidr and the World Tree and work with the knowledge we gather, we do not hope for a result.”

“So. Still physics.” Tony grins at Loki’s huff and nudges a bit closer. “And what were you doing? How did you make all this stuff?”

“I did not make the fireholder. I fetched it from my workroom, such items are not created overnight. Mostly I just rearranged the matter residing here. There will be more work to make the floor to my liking, but it will do for now.”

“Wow, your mageness, you’re easy to please.” Tony gives the bare room a telling look and grins. He missed this.

“I slept on bare stone or wet shore many a time. This is no hardship.”

“Sure, Loki Grills, as you say.” Then, after a pause, Tony itches again. “So, you can take whatever you want from wherever?”

Loki scrunches his nose. “I need to be familiar with the place and with the item in question; my workroom is imbued with my seidr, it’s the place I know the best in all the Realms, as such concentrating on it and reaching out is no hardship. Otherwise it’s easier to shift somewhere and extract what is needed by hand. Small items I carry around.” He makes a smooth gesture rotating his wrist and there is a bottle in his hand.

“Are you telling me you have a pocket dimension?” Tony asks, because. Because.

“You call it that, yes.” Loki nods. “But it’s more like a cluster of bends in space, individual for each item. It’s easier that way.”

Tony blinks at him, what the fuck, you bastard, how could you- it hits him suddenly that Loki’s been teleporting this whole time and apparently Tony’s been so deep in denial that he wrote it off as some bullshit pseudo-god power, but no, Loki has just been bending time and space and leaping light years away and back with just a thought.

“Do it again!” Tony demands, hopping closer and concentrating solely on Loki’s hands. He has a moment to hate himself for sounding like an eager kid (he feels like an eager kid, but that’s a heartbreak for another time), then Loki lifts both hands and makes a flowing, rotating gesture, then grasps as a book appears out of thin air. He passes it to Tony, who takes it with a rare reverence.

The book is solid. Quite heavy for its size, no thicker than Tony’s thumb and bound in an unknown material with three clasps made of dull red metal. They are completely smooth without a hint of a slit and flow into the cover seamlessly.

Maybe the questions are apparent on Tony’s face, because Loki reaches and expertly flicks open the clasps.

“This is my latest, ah,” he frowns, looking for the word, “dissertation, you might say. It’s a standard protection for spell-filled writings, they can be violent without proper containment.”

Tony feels like Harry Potter, only rich and insanely smart and having not mumbo-jumbo words but extraphysics in front of him. Some pages are nothing but symbols and they are obviously words but there are often blocks of completely different symbols. Sometimes there are diagrams, one page opens by itself and Loki has to slap it and burn the drawing back into the page. The lines make Tony’s brain hurt a bit because they are clearly not even three-dimensional.

“Enough.” Loki says gently and takes the book back. He slaps it closed with force and the clasps morph together. Tony wants it back, his own, science fairytale literally in his hands.

The book disappears again and instead Loki holds Tony’s favorite mug. He turns it around in his hands, drums his fingers along the rim and then gives it to the owner.

“Here.” He says with a slight smile. “It will contain four times its measure of liquid and will keep it of starting temperature.”

Tony stares at him of a moment, then his gaze snaps to the unassuming (and now very clean, of course) mug, then back. Then Tony frantically looks around, but of course there is nothing here and he bolts to the elevator. The crystals in the first hall twinkle in rhythm with their gentle shift in brightness but Tony sees and hears none, he is busy tearing down to his kitchen and firing commands at Jarvis, who is not very pleased at having a whole floor basically cut out from his reach.

“Later, J.” Tony promises as he dumps iced water into the mug and watches it disappear. The bottom of the mug is foggy and Tony can’t see where and how the water goes but after a while it begins to fill and then he dumps the water in the sink, watching as it flows.

It’s not a real science test, but Tony is still feeling like a kid and he feels ridiculously happy, as if he’s received a gift he asked but didn’t believe he’d get. Except he couldn’t even ask for that, that casual, fast and effortless bending of all the laws he knows.

“It will contain solid objects according to its visible size and expel the dirt after a while.” Loki says from behind Tony, startling the man. “For safety concerns I spelled it unbreakable in usual circumstances, but be aware that upon destruction the contained space will enlarge and then implode, affecting at least seven feet of surroundings. Concentrating laser on it will most likely result in destruction.”

Tony gapes at him and carefully places the mug on the counter. Suddenly he can see the awkwardness in Loki, in the way he stands and patiently waits for the reaction, his face relaxed but eyes alert and ready. Tony doesn’t know what it is Loki is preparing himself for, doesn’t want to know why he is so uncomfortable with giving gifts but there is too much in his chest to contain so he dives forward and gives Loki a hug.

It’s an awkward thing, marred by Tony’s indignation at Loki’s too tall frame and the fact that he isn’t used to being physical, but it beats talking about problems, so Tony grasps at the soft texture of Loki’s jacket and after a moment a hand is placed carefully on his shoulder. It doesn’t press him closer but neither is it pulling him back so that’s a win.

From that point on it’s like the floodgates are open and Tony can’t stop reaching out and touching. It takes some time to notice and some more time to analyse and in the end it’s Jarv who concludes that it’s most likely that sir’s actions are a result from severe touch starvation. Well, that explains it.

Actually, no, it doesn’t explain Tony’s childlike joy when the whole business with the ‘union’ is explained properly, doesn’t explain a sneaky thought at the back of his mind that Loki can’t really go away and abandon Tony. It’s an unpleasant arrangement in concept but does Tony care? Not in the least, not anymore. From what he saw Loki enjoys his company and it’s very much reciprocated, so that’s it.

The whole ordeal is far less impressive than Tony’s expected, what with Loki’s title and big words about magic. There is the teleportation (which is severely unpleasant on what feels like molecular level) and Loki’s determined eyes as he takes Tony’s hand and places it on a warm bluish panel in a column of solid black stone.

“Recognized.” A solemn woman nods and a dozen of figures go on their business. That’s it, the big thing Loki was raving about is summed in a couple of seconds, because ‘of course, Anthony, the ceremony or any redundant flair is harmful to the dealings of seidr’ (so cute, there is not redundant flair).

Tony has much larger things to concentrate on, like for example the strong possibility that his sexuality has taken an abrupt one eighty and there is a whole list of moments normal at first but which are constantly on the back on his mind, like milestones leading to the inevitable.

There was that awkward hug in his kitchen, the first time Loki laughed freely, that day they spent under the invisibility spell, the purple spires of Svartalfheim, Loki’s hunting outfit and his dress armor which to be fair Tony has seen maybe a fraction of a second, because he kinda needed help for his latest experiment and was exploiting his right to call. Loki wasn’t impressed and left immediately; Tony pulled the feed to try and catch the moment of his arrival and, well. He wasn’t aware Asgard’s fashion trends tended towards ‘obscene’ or ‘obscenely revealing’.

Despite the numerous willing women he’s picked up in blatant protest, Tony feels wrong-footed somehow, unable to even recognize his attraction. He knows he’s getting clingier, abusing Loki’s goodwill and patience, but it’s just good. Tony will stop as soon as he’s told to, until then, he’ll take what he can.

This stellar plan is destroyed by the betrayal of Tony’s own body. He’s busy listening to Loki explaining how their flying ships work, maintaining just enough brainpower to ask appropriate questions now and then, while most of the focus is directed at the way Loki’s chest expands on inhales and rumbles when he speaks. After a while there is a pause and Loki says, “Is that particular topic arousing or are you just in the mood?”

Tony freezes, but it’s too late, he’s pressed himself close so thoroughly that there is no way for misinterpretation. For a couple of agonizing moments he keeps still in a childish hope that if he wishes for it hard enough it will all disappear - his boner, Loki’s attention and the fact that he can’t even jerk off properly anymore, because there is one person on his mind and he’s afraid of mind reading.

Not getting an answer Loki simply lays a hand on Tony’s shoulder, a heavy, grounding presence and it’s electrifying. At the resulting shudder, the mage exhales softly.

“Or there is that.” He says nonsensically and his hand travels to Tony’s jawbone, a steady torture. Loki’s eyes are always attentive, but this is something else; in the back of Tony’s mind there is a thought that their position is ridiculous and more than resembling covers for numerous trash romantic novels the maids used to read and think their hid so well. Then Loki kisses and Tony comes alive, scrambling forward a bit to align them better and put his hands everywhere at once. He doesn’t know what he wants but that apparently it was a bit too long and if there isn’t sex in the immediate future there would be violence.

Only Loki delivers, oh he does; it is an interesting experience to be the one pampered and indulged: the prep takes hours, literally, and afterwards Tony just lies in a fucked out haze, carding his fingers through Loki’s hair lazily.

It’s a pity his brain doesn’t really shut up for long and soon he twitches restlessly, making the body above stir. Loki frowns down in disapproval, the usual sharpness of his gaze tempered. Tony grins and it’s most likely that his grin is dopey but who cares.

“Can we have science pillow talk? Because that’s the best and about those ships-”

Loki springs into action, one second he is giving Tony an Unimpressed Eyebrow, all relaxed and pliant, the next the mage is crouching over, eyes intent, promising. The kiss he delivers is no less brain-numbing than the first one and Tony pants a little, feeling, to his horror, the beginnings of erection.

“Are you going to kill me with sex? I’m not sure I’ll live through it right now.” Sure, Loki is a master of edging and he makes the torment totally worth it and more, but there are things mortal men are just not able to do.

“Oh, well, we’ll have to do something about that.” Loki shrugs a little, smug and unrepentant; he doesn’t take things further, though, just pins Tony with his weight and frowns a bit.

“I must admit I intended to kill you initially.”

There we go, away with that arousal, thank you, Loki.

“Um, what?”

The mage shrugs minutely. “It seemed like a mercy to us both; I had no intention to be shackled to some mortal imbecile and you are too fragile and young to take to the court.” He makes a pause, visibly fighting with the following words. “Good thing you are not what I expected.”

“Aww.” Tony drawls, immediately relaxing. Maybe he’s spent too much time with the bastard, or maybe he’s just wired wrong but he accepts the admission for what it is: it’s silly to expect different logic from Loki, thousands years old warrior and diplomat of warriors. “I’m so charming the tall, dark and murderous decided against offing me.”

“Am I not handsome?” Loki sniffs, but he smiles a bit, eyes bright and more relaxed than ever.

“You know you are, I’m not feeding your ego. Seriously though, that’s some Twilight shit.” Tony laughs and laughs more when he receives a gentle bite in reprimand. “Yes, I managed to snatch a magical immortal rich prince! That calls for screen adaptation with inaccurate portrayal of sex. I’m too fabulous for a bland cast, though.” He grins unabashedly at Loki’s restrained mirth. “Also, I have multiple MIT degrees and hold patents for most of SI’s innovations, but that’s all trivia.”

“Oh, yes, clearly I was struck with a sense of Fate.” Loki adds wryly.

“Uh-huh. And spent so much time in disguise because you are adorably shy. Shy will do instead of you snapping necks with your bare hands and returning from hunts covered in blood and guts.”

“That happens rarer than you are inclined to think.”

“Maybe. Doesn’t mean you make a pretty sight.” Tony hums, absurdly happy and content. “On that matter, why Adam?”

Loki blinks in silent question.

“I mean, there is a perfectly acceptable Luke, for example.”

“Luke.” Loki deadpans. “If we ever go in disguise anywhere on Midgard I’ll make sure to create an appropriate alias, Tommy.”

Tony scrunches his nose. Like that, it does sound stupid. “Point taken. So you just picked up a random name?”

“Pretty much, Toby.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Ahaha, the initial draft was around 20 000 words of disjoined notes dealing with shit I have no patience towards now, like Obadiah, Iron Man armor, Howard, Fury, Natasha, Shield, Loki-Jotun thing, Asgard, Egyptian and Greek deities (I just threw it away, because fleshing out at the beginning stages was just under 6000 words and I’m just, eeeeeh, deadline, Oel). Yes, I thought of it. No, I couldn’t fit it all in without it taking a couple of months and growing into multi-chap. One day, maybe, who knows.  

[pwnyta]

Marvel for the ask thing?

...You said ‘Marvel‘ but I accidentally comprehended it as ‘MCU‘ though hardly anything would change...

Under the cut~~~

•the first character i ever fell in love with:

Tony! Hes the reason I got into the MCU as much as I am now....

•a character that i used to love/like, but now do not:

Natasha a little bit? I mean I still like her but... AoU and CACW was a little rough on her rep. But im super ready to let it go... I named my cat after her!

•a ship that i used to love/like, but now do not:

I used to be SUPER into Science Boyfriends but... AoU was rough on Bruce too... LMAO I dont hate it though. But thats the closest to liking to disliking a ship I got.

•my ultimate favorite character™:

Tony Stark.

•prettiest character:

...That Brazilian girl from the Incredible Hulk. (Or Tony Stark)

Lookit those eyes...

•my most hated character:

Loki. I have a lot of problems with Loki or more so Loki fandom.

•my OTP:

Any*/Tony((Steve, Loki, Darcy need not apply))

•my NOTP:

Thorki, FrostIron, FrostHawk, Frost... anything really. Any ship with Loki. Stony, ScarletVision, Stucky, Phlint, anything with Darcy, WinterBones??

•favorite episode:

My favorite movie is IM3! I coulda chose another screencap... but I like this one....

•saddest death:

JAAAARVIIIISSSSSS. Damn you Whedon...

•favorite season:

Any season that doesnt involve AoU... or Autumn. Autumn is my fav season.

•least favorite season:

AoU... what was Whedon thinkin...

•character that everyone else in the fandom loves, but i hate:

Loki and Steve.

•my ‘you’re piece of trash, but you’re still a fave’ fave:

Obadiah Stane. Hes such a scum bag... Jeff Bridges just made him so good tho IMO.

•my ‘beautiful cinnamon roll who deserves better than this’ fave:

Tony and Rhodey. For different reasons. Tony gets shit from the fandom, Rhodey keeps getting cut in scenes. I SEE YOU VILLAINS.AND LIZ. LIZ DESERVES BETTER. SHE DESERVED TO BE HAPPY IN THE END!!! BUT ALL SHE WAS WAS SAD! I HATE YOU.

YOU SEE THIS BEAUTIFUL FACE

You couldnt like... give her a puppy or something Marvel?! You ruin her life and she has to move away from all she knows and shes just SAD and thats all we get for her!? A sweet and smart and just all around lovely person!? WHAT IS YOUR DAMAGE MARVEL. ITS NOT HER FAULT HER DADS A POS.

•my ‘this ship is wrong, nasty, and makes me want to cleanse my soul, but i still love it’ ship:

.....;;;;;;*** Listen....

•my ‘they’re kind of cute, and i lowkey ship them, but i’m not too invested’ ship:

Peter/Liz,Vision/Mantis. IMAGINE HOW CUTE THEY WOULD BE.