#pepper potts is so done

[pandagirl45]

Tony: I like a man that can absolute destroy me

Bucky: *stares*

Pepper: in a fight

Tony: >:3

Pepper: in a fight right???

Bucky: >:]

Pepper: by the infinity stones *leaves*

[i-like-art-and-spiderman]

No cause these bitches would have a Club called " My Loved one, who is a literal genius is ironically also the most stupid idiot on the planet to ever stupid"

[wheredostarsgowhenyoudie]

HAHAHHAHAHAHA

Peter, talking with Pepper: I was an angel when I was a kid. Calm, even a little bit melancholic. A little bit of a poetic, but overall a shy kiddo.

May, taking out a photo: really?

[loki-cees-all]

Space Oddity {Avengers!Loki x Female Reader One-shot}

Cee's Loki Fic Masterlist / AO3 Link

Pairing : Avengers!Loki x Female Reader

Summary : While preparing for Stark Tower’s Halloween party, Loki misunderstands the point of a Halloween Costume. Luckily he has you to help him navigate such tricky waters. 

W/c : 10k words

Content / Warnings : Established Relationship, Fluff, Smut, Loki being a little massive shit and also a silly goose.

Author's Note : Last year a certain LIFE-RUINER (affectionate) dressed up as Ziggy Stardust/David Bowie/Aladdin Sane for Halloween, and it permanently altered my brain chemistry. Because of (or in spite of?) the ensuing brain rot, it took 11 months of me staring at that picture to finally come up with an idea to include Loki in that delicious little mix.

P.S. I do recommend listening to Space Oddity by David Bowie while you read this. If you start the song at "Humanity’s wide variety of music..." then depending on your reading speed, the song's first Verse should start right at the big reveal 🤭

18+ Only - Minors DNI

⊱ ─ ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ─ ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ─ ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ─ ⊰

A crisp, hazy mist obscured your view of the ground from the 22nd floor of Stark Tower. Sunrise was yet to fully finish, and the Earth below was quiet, still adjusting to the uneasy transition from slumber to consciousness. Within that ambiguity, it was easy to believe that you’d somehow awoken on an entirely new planet. 

You often wondered what that was like, to feel the soil from an uncharted world give way underneath your boots. To feel a breeze coming off an ocean no other human had ever seen before, or to look up into the night sky and see the stars of a brand new galaxy. How colossal, how surreal, how inferior it must make someone feel. 

On lazy mornings such as this one, you’d often ask your partner what it was like to be an astronaut. He’d hand you a steaming cup of coffee as he rejoined you in bed, and with a contemplative expression, he’d always respond with a brand new answer. 

You suspected the change in response was just due to him recalling his first trip to a different realm, and each time you always listened very carefully. You always closed your eyes and tried to lose yourself in the picturesque descriptions of fantasy worlds you’d probably never be able to see personally. 

Sometimes, if you focused hard enough, you could almost smell the forests of a brand new planet. You could almost taste its fresh water and its different fruit, and feel the immaculate breezes of its unstudied seasons. But then you’d open your eyes again, and when you looked through the skyscraper’s window, the few dapples of orange and yellow leaves breaking through the dense fog would let you know this was still planet Earth. 

But that wasn’t always so bad. Occasionally, there would be several weeks without a world-ending threat breathing down the Avenger’s necks, and that meant you could pretend you were all just regular people. You could sleep in or get up extra early to watch the world come to life, you could rush around and do any of the million things that needed to be done, or you could simply lay there and bask in that sweet silence. 

Today, after having coffee in bed, your only concrete plan was a shopping trip in the West Village with Wanda and Nat. Your only solid goal was to finally settle on the perfect costumes for the Halloween party happening just a few days from now. 

It was no secret that the Avengers had acquired a sizable contingency of cynics over the years, ones who weren’t shy about openly criticizing the entire team. From the collateral damage incurred during battle, to the individual actions of its members both on and off the team - anything they did was suspect, and absolutely nothing was beyond complaint. Thus, Pepper Potts had made it her personal mission to finally correct the planet’s opinions of its heroes. 

In addition to the team’s assistance towards rebuilding efforts after their battles were won and having its members performing very public charity work, Stark Tower was starting to host more “fun” events in order to further boost the team’s positive image. 

“To get your names in the papers without a rising death toll immediately afterwards,” was specifically how Pepper had explained her initiative. And naturally, that meant a Halloween Party was deemed absolutely necessary. 

Anyone who was even tertiarily related to the Avengers was going to be there: from the low-level, but still notable, world government leaders, to the honorary members from all corners of the globe. And of course, plenty of reporters and photographers would be in attendance, all of them ready to document every single fun moment. It was set to become an impressive party, and knowing Pepper, a very classy event - so it shouldn’t have been at all surprising that most of the team had become hyper-focused on winning the party’s costume contest. 

Initially, everyone kept their costumes a secret from one another, and the trash-talking was of a mostly friendly nature. But then rumors started flying around, and gradually, some members of the team started taking the competition far too seriously. Alliances were formed, and subsequently broken. The taunting soon became serious, and then reached devastating levels, which ultimately escalated into a four-day period where Tony and Steve couldn’t even be in the same room together without a physical fight breaking out. 

Thankfully, the girls were far more casual about it, and that afternoon’s shopping trip was planned to be one of mutual support. Wanda was hoping to finalize her couple’s costume with Vision, and even though she hadn’t mentioned it directly, you knew that Nat was attempting a similar endeavor with Bruce, despite his timid insistence that he wasn’t a “costume guy”. It was so adorably endearing that it almost gave you a toothache. 

Unfortunately, things were not so cut and dry with Loki. 

He had yet to mention the Halloween party on his own, nor had he participated in any group discussions on the subject - he even ignored Tony's attempts to goad him into verbal sparring matches, something Loki ordinarily enjoyed. Not that anyone should be genuinely excited about performative media relations disguised as a fun party, but nonetheless, you were starting to become concerned about his lack of interest.

Private conversations with him about finding a costume had gone nowhere. He didn’t understand why he needed to dress up at all, or why you cared so much about it. And while he wasn’t saying it out loud, you didn’t need to be a genius to guess why he had reservations: everyone else already believed he was an actual monster, so shouldn’t he just be himself on Halloween? 

Only a few weeks had passed since you’d moved in together, but it was going really well, all things considered. The otherworldly being you’d fallen in love with still didn’t understand most Earthly customs, and you very much enjoyed being his Midgardian teacher. But coming to terms with what he’d done while under the influence of the Mind Stone was still an ongoing struggle for him. 

Loki had good days, but he also had very, very bad days. He still had nightmares about his past, and frequently his worries about the future kept him helplessly trapped in bed. It broke your heart to witness, and even though he’d probably never reveal the full details about his time with The Black Order and Thanos, he at least never stopped you from offering him comfort in the middle of the night. 

Because he wasn’t the monster his critics or inner demons claimed he was, no matter how convincing they were. He deserved a good and peaceful life just as much as everyone else did, and you wanted nothing more than to help him finally have one. 

When you’d left the apartment later that morning, Loki was lounging peacefully on the living room couch, his nose buried in the oldest book you’d ever seen. A gentle smile had tugged at his lips while you kissed his forehead on your way out, and with tremendous love in his eyes, he said that he’d miss you terribly while you were gone. 

After an early lunch at The Coppola Cafe, the three of you spent the afternoon browsing what felt like every single vintage clothing shop in the West End. It didn’t take long for Wanda and Nat to finalize their costumes, and eventually you did manage to find something for yourself, but deciding on your partner’s costume was another story entirely. A terribly complicated task, one that was impossible to accomplish and rotten with trap doors and landmines hiding within the deceptive labyrinth that was Loki. 

The girls did their best to make helpful suggestions during the shopping trip, offering such innocent and guiltless ideas like a mailman, or a stuffy professor - or perhaps he could dress up as Shakespeare so he could spend the entire party wandering around quoting Hamlet. Or maybe instead, he should just wear a Ghostface mask and a long black cloak, so he had a good excuse to stay concealed and silent all night long. 

You appreciated their efforts, but none of those ideas were quite right for him. You couldn’t really explain why, but they just weren’t…Loki. 

By late afternoon, your mind had turned into a jumbled mess. Unable to think clearly anymore, you resorted to aimless purchases of extra things neither of you probably wouldn’t ever use - cheap makeup sets, bottles of fake blood, a set of vampire fangs, a pair of cat ears. Several brightly colored wigs, a second-hand cape, and a large bag of Halloween candy to stress eat later finally completed your purchases for the day. 

The group came back to the Tower just before dusk, and the living room of your apartment was quiet when you walked inside. A few lamps illuminated on the end tables gave the space a dark, brooding mood, which was greatly appreciated after such a busy and disappointing day. But unfortunately, Loki was no longer on the couch where you’d left him, and that old book was nowhere to be seen. 

“Hey! I’m home!” you called out while setting your shopping bags down by the front door. 

An odd silence was the only thing that greeted you. 

Usually, Loki would be at the front door, ready to sweep you up in his arms whenever you returned home. But the apartment remained unmoving, even as you called out a second time. When he still didn’t appear, you poked your head into the kitchen while shrugging off your jacket and slipping off your shoes. But that room was also completely vacant, with no evidence of dinner being started or already had. 

Loki preferred spending most of his time alone, but occasionally he’d allow an enticing bribe from Bruce or Thor to drag him out of the apartment; maybe he was just studying something interesting up in Bruce’s lab, or perhaps he’d agreed to help his brother play a prank on someone. Grateful for the opportunity to wallow in solitude for a bit, you pulled the giant bag of Halloween candy from a shopping bag and made your way towards the back of the apartment. 

You padded down the empty hallway where there was still no sign of Loki. Everything in the entire apartment was clean, and in its place. There was absolutely nothing wrong, and yet it felt like the weight of the entire world was resting heavily on your shoulders. You tried to reassure yourself that it was nothing that a coma-inducing amount of candy couldn’t fix, but even that was becoming less believable with each step forward. 

As you approached the bedroom, you thought you could hear the very faint sounds of guitar strumming through the closed door. That gave you pause; certain that you hadn’t left anything on before leaving that morning, you cautiously moved closer, until your ear was pressed against the door. 

Yes, that was music you were hearing - familiar music, even though you couldn’t quite place it yet, and you couldn’t help but to smile to yourself. Loki was home after all, and he had been entertaining himself with music while you were out. It thoroughly warmed your heart with an unexplainable feeling of serenity, and pleased that he’d remembered how to use the record player on his own, you waited behind the door to listen for another moment. 

Humanity’s wide variety of music was one of the few things about our culture that he’d expressed genuine interest in - which of course, you happily encouraged. It was so much fun introducing him to everything from the classic composers of the 18th and 19th centuries, to the psychedelic rockers of the 20th century. From the upbeat pop groups of your middle school years, to the angsty singers that made up the soundtrack of your early twenties.

You closed your eyes to focus solely on whatever he was listening to now. The music itself was playing low, the singer’s impassive voice just barely audible to you. But you couldn’t tell if it was a really old recording, or if the sound was just distorted after passing through the door. 

Off in the distance, a punctuated drum stroke marked the countdown to some inconceivable event, and adrenaline suddenly filled your bloodstream. A low hum vibrated underneath the drum, steady until it wasn’t, and then gradually it shifted into a cosmic wail that seemed to be transmitting itself across all of time and space. A cacophony of instruments, from both the planet Earth and of the stars themselves, finally crescendoed together in a powerful array of astronomical declaration. 

A declaration that something was happening at that very moment. Breathed into life with a static kiss, that something was so astonishingly important, and it vehemently demanded immediate witness. 

Your curiosity, overwhelming to the point that you couldn’t take it any longer, forced you to carefully reach for the door handle. Its metal, both warm and cold simultaneously, felt like home. It felt unreal. 

This felt like opening the hatch to an ancient spacecraft. 

This is Ground Control to Major Tom…

You pushed open the door, and immediately let out a startled laugh. Standing in front of the bedroom mirror was a tall and lanky figure, turning himself back and forth while carefully examining his reflection. That part wasn’t surprising; but rather, it was the way he’d dressed himself that was completely unexpected. 

You’ve really made the grade…

Bright red and blue stripes lined the figure’s jumpsuit from shoulder to toe, each one evenly separated by thin lines of white. Familiar dark curls cascaded and twisted down past a pair of golden, glittering shoulder pads that only amplified his already impressive stature. Across his right eye, stretching from well below his cheekbone up to meet with his natural hairline, was a crimson lightning bolt. Its perfectly jagged edges were outlined in shimmering blue, and the leather platform boots on his feet were a brilliant, shining red. 

And the papers want to know whose shirts you wear…

You knew it wasn’t actually Ziggy Stardust standing there; logically, you knew that much to be true. David Bowie had died several years ago, and while you now believed in alien life on other planets, and magic, and superheroes - you still knew the matter of ghosts to be entirely science fiction. 

Rational thought, if you had been capable of it in that moment, would have told you that this was just your celestial partner practicing another one of his illusions. But this mirage was so much more powerful than reason, or fact, or reality could have ever hoped to be. While shoulder-strung spectral harps blared from the record player and the harmonized magnetism of flesh and blood and God stood before you, the only conclusion to be reached was that you’d finally lost your entire mind. 

Now it’s time to leave the capsule if you dare…

Other than his hair, his illusion was categorically perfect: the only hint of Loki underneath this glamour was the flicker of mischievous green hiding behind heterochromatic eyes. But those weren’t Loki’s cheekbones, or his lips, or his nose. 

They were David fucking Bowie’s. 

This is Major Tom to Ground Control…

Your jaw dropped even further when he finally noticed you. He turned someone else’s body, and he lifted someone else’s chin. The illustrious and supernal smile he flashed in your direction tugged at someone else’s lips. But the confidence that radiated out of him, like the infernal rays of an ever-bursting star, belonged to Loki, and Loki alone. 

It was different from Bowie’s, but still somehow the same; despite the oddity of both their ensembles, neither outfit had worn either man. And similar to that ethereal mortal from over 50 years ago, Loki’s aura overrode any bewildered question of why, and instead begged the eternal question of how? 

I’m stepping through the door…

How was he making this look work for him? Just like Bowie, Loki was equal parts striking and ridiculous. He was magnetic and breathtaking, he was pulling you in while simultaneously stunning the oxygen from your lungs. No thoughts, no words, no sounds could ever truly capture the true essence of this scene, and all you could manage was another stunned laugh as you looked him up and down. 

His lips finally moved, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. A symphony of guitars and keyboards and organs and stringed instruments all crescendoed together to effectively pay tribute to the creation of this universe and drown out his voice. The sound, dizzying and disorienting, overpowered the feel of the floor beneath your feet until gravity was no longer enough to keep you tethered to the Earth. 

And I’m floating in the most peculiar way…

Your mind, completely overwhelmed by the glowing specter just ten feet away, had become entirely blank. You were rendered so totally speechless that you forgot every single detail about your past. You simply weren’t you anymore; you were an astronaut from a distant planet on the other side of the universe, and you always had been. 

You weren’t standing on the 22nd floor of Stark Tower, you were opening the hatch of an imaginary spacecraft, you were taking that first step out onto an unexplored moon. You were leaving the very first footprints upon its previously untouched surface, and you were carving your name into its virgin moondust. You were leaving your mark for future generations to someday gaze upon, in sheer awe of the audacity to wonder what else could be out there. 

And the stars look very different today… 

Without even noticing, you let go of the bag of Halloween candy; whether it also began floating or if it crashed to your bedroom floor was no longer any of your concern. All you could think about was if it felt this surreal, this mind-blowing to look upon the real David Bowie. How did anybody manage to not spontaneously combust in his presence? 

All sense of relative dimensions lost their meaning. Space was completely irrelevant, time was a fictional construct. The universe was never going to stop expanding, so would anyone ever be able to see it all? How could a numerical value ever be assigned to the entire concept of time? Why were any of us here? 

For here, am I sitting in a tin can? 

You had no way of knowing how much time had passed, but at some point, Loki must have realized that he’d broken you. Without losing his proud smile, he waved a hand in the direction of your record player. Its needle lifted, and an eerie silence immediately descended over the room. 

As soon as the music stopped, part of the spell clouding your mind vanished. A rush of oxygen suddenly filled your lungs, and your heart finally returned to its beating. Blood resumed its journey through your veins, and the floor became substantial underneath your feet again. You blinked once, twice, three times and shook your head, trying to clear it so that you might be able to ask just one of the million questions that all popped up at the exact same time. 

“Something the matter, dear?” 

Your eyes flew back open. Unfortunately, his glamour was still in place, and it was Ziggy Stardust that gingerly approached your position by the door. And when he’d spoken, it wasn’t Loki’s voice you’d heard - it was the voice of David Bowie. 

Unsure of what to do with yourself, inundated and engulfed in sensations of the most flustered manner, you squeezed your eyes shut again. Your arms crossed and uncrossed, your knees locked and unlocked as your weight shifted back and forth. You couldn’t help but laugh and shake your head again. 

“Loki, um…What the…” You had to pause to let out a deep, shaky breath, to run your hands up and down your face in a desperate attempt to wake from this very confusing dream. “What, um - are you doing, exactly?” 

The air around you warmed considerably as he stopped in front of you, and the amusement in Bowie’s voice, so smooth and so sure of himself, was more than palpable as he spoke. 

“Preparing for the masquerade, my dear. The same thing you were doing all afternoon.”

A gentle finger tilted your chin upwards, silently requesting that your eyes open again. When you did, it was Ziggy Stardust staring down at you from his impressive height, his expression curious and the unnecessarily tall boots he stood upon just making everything worse for you. 

You gasped breathlessly. Your brain almost melted entirely. The massive crush you’d had on David Bowie when you were 13 years old suddenly roared to life once more. You’d never told anyone about it, because everyone else your age was in love with the much more socially acceptable choices of Nick Carter or Justin Timberlake. Back then, admitting to a near-fatal attraction on an androgynous, bisexual and eccentric musician from the 1970s would have been akin to signing your own death warrant. 

Nowadays, such a crush was far more acceptable to have, but you thought those feelings had faded away with adolescence. There’d been no reason to bring it up, not even when you’d first introduced Loki to Bowie’s music. And now you were standing face-to-chest with the physical embodiment of your lie by omission. 

Overwhelmed once more, you backed away from him and covered your eyes. “Okay, can you - take those boots off, please? You’re already ridiculously taller than me, so you don’t need them…” 

“As you wish, darling.” 

His voice, though sincere, was still someone else’s. Admittedly, it was intoxicating to hear Bowie’s voice addressing you in such a loving, familiar tone - but it was also incredibly intimidating. You were already on the verge of collapse as it was; you didn’t need yet another reason to make a very rapid crash landing to the floor. 

Carefully, you let out a very slow breath to steady yourself. “And - can you also go back to using your voice, please?” 

There was a brief moment of silence, and a part of you wished you could see the enchanting smirk he almost certainly wore at that very moment. When he finally answered, it was in his own voice again, but it was just as amused as Bowie’s voice had been. 

“As you wish, darling.” 

You let out a shuddered sigh of relief, and your body relaxed somewhat. When you cracked open your eyelids from behind your fingers, he was still Ziggy, but the sight was a little easier to deal with now that he stood at his normal height and spoke with his actual voice. 

Now that he was closer, you took in the comforting notes of citrus and cedarwood on his skin, scents you knew to be Loki’s. You swallowed hard, your pupils dilated wildly as you finally allowed yourself to look him over. 

“You did this for the Halloween party?” you asked softly. 

Loki’s expression was much more reserved now, and he nodded earnestly. “Yes, I thought you would enjoy it. Is that not the case?” 

Your breath hitched as you reached out to touch him. Your fingertips brushed along the golden collar around his neck. The material was soft and pliable, not like the polyester you’d find on a cheap costume from a pop-up Halloween store. No, the fabric Loki wore was both real, and it wasn’t. It was the truth, but it was also a lie. He was both mortal and ethereal simultaneously. 

“And what made you choose this version of David Bowie to imitate?” 

The reimagined figure of Ziggy Stardust shrugged nonchalantly. His gaze, as intent and dedicated as ever, remained locked on your expression while your fingers drifted over to his shoulder pads, and then back down to the center of his chest. 

“Well, the other night you remarked on how much I supposedly resembled this particular mortal…” 

A shy smile pulled at your lips. “Okay, go on…” 

He reached out to caress your cheek, his thumb soft and solid against your skin. “And I was thinking about that film you showed me. The one that used music to tell its story…”

You stifled another giggle by pulling your lower lip between your teeth. Both of your hands found their way to his chest, one of them pulling the zipper of his jumpsuit until you could see just the barest hint of his chest hair. 

“A music video. The Space Oddity music video, specifically…” 

Ziggy, or Loki - whomever it was - donned a playful grin. “Yes, of course. With the oscillating, dark-green lines. I quite enjoyed that one…” 

You nodded absentmindedly. Your fingers, like they had a mind of their own, tugged the zipper down just a little bit further. Its metal teeth, crafted with the utmost precision possible, gave way and unlocked so easily to reveal even more of his skin, and your heart hammered inside your chest. 

It was impossible that Loki couldn’t see right through your expression, that he didn’t know about the salacious thoughts swirling around in your head. Like he’d expected you to have this very reaction, he gently slipped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer, until you were pressed all the way against him. 

“Darling, I know that the stress of preparing for this particular soiree has been weighing heavily on your mind as of late…” he continued with a soft murmur as he delicately spun you both around and guided you back towards the bed. “And I wanted to do something to help alleviate that burden for you…” 

Your heart leapt violently into your throat. At first, it was the surprise that he’d noticed your inner turmoil that did you in, but then it shifted towards dismay over you apparently not hiding it as well as you thought you were. 

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied with an innocent smile as he slowly lowered you both down to the mattress. 

But yes, of course you’d been feeling tons of pressure lately about the party. The Avengers had all known about your relationship with Loki for a while, but the rest of the Tower still didn’t - and neither did the rest of the world. They were all going to find out at the Halloween party. 

Loki chuckled and allowed his weight to fully settle on top of yours. “What have I told you about good girls who like to lie, my love?” he murmured softly, his lips brushing teasingly against yours. 

While you didn’t really care what everyone else thought about you, what they thought about Loki was many magnitudes of greater importance. He was already in a very precarious situation as it was; depending on the pundit or publication, his every scowl was interpreted as one of disdain for the human race, his every word a threat that he was just moments away from leading another alien invasion. 

They already hated him, and they’d never forgive him for New York, no matter how well he’d behaved since. 

Your breath shuddered, and your fingers couldn’t help but tangle between the dark curls that were so effortlessly Loki’s. “That they should…do it more, probably?” 

Any mistake he made in the field was grounds for his dismissal, anytime he drank a glass of wine instead of a beer was his blatant attempt to dismantle democracy itself. His every move was overanalyzed and deciphered by a bunch of people who had never even met him, who never even cared to know what he was like behind closed doors or in private, when he actually felt safe to be himself. 

They didn’t even care that he’d been corrupted by measures of torture they’d never have been able to survive themselves. Or that it had been entirely against his will, or that even while his invasion was taking place, he was subtly laying the groundwork for the Avengers to be able to stop him in the first place. 

“A valiant attempt, darling, but we both know that wasn’t what I meant…” he whispered hotly, nippling at your jaw. He adjusted the angle of his hips, and he began to roll them against yours. 

You moaned softly in response. Your mind began to melt, this time in pleasure instead of shock. The juxtaposition of Loki and Bowie and Ziggy, though confusing at first, started to make sense. It scratched an itch you couldn’t possibly have guessed that you had, and it created an intense need deep within your soul.

Unable to resist him any further, you captured his lips in a fiery kiss, and he eagerly returned it. His mouth worked hard and fast against yours, in a brand new style of coruscating and devastating passion. Hot and heavy, the kiss tasted just like Loki’s always had, but now it contained an extra dose of stardust. 

Loki's hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing against your cheekbones, his hips again rolling against yours. His breath was quick against your skin, his needy groans like music to your ears. This transcendental combination of the past and present, of both the mortal plane and of the stars themselves, somehow craved you this badly and he wasn’t even afraid to show it. 

It was so strange; Loki may have come from the stars, but somehow, he was still beholden to you here on Earth. 

Within moments your legs wrapped themselves around his waist. Your tongue swiped at his bottom lip, requesting entry, and he granted it. Your hands drifted to his neck, his drifted to your thighs, and your bodies writhed together, eagerly, desperately, hungrily. 

The heat between you escalated even further - the kind of heat that usually precipitated the creation of a new star in the sky. Just as you began to yank the jumpsuit’s zipper down further, a shimmer of emerald washed down your bodies, effortlessly and fully undressing the both of you. 

You fucking loved it when he did that. 

Loki could use his magic to do anything he wanted; he could, and had already, used it to destroy, and to maim, and to control. But now he only used it to protect the ones he’d previously tried to conquer. Now he just used it to love - or when he couldn’t handle not being inside you for another second. 

His skin was hot against yours, his hands worshiped your curves. Your body stretched and arched underneath his, taking him in, making love to him like it was the very first time. It always felt that way, like you were floating one hundred thousand miles above the Earth, like the stars were finally within reach and only now could you actually reach them. 

Your fingernails dug into his hips. The sound of the creaking bed was soon drowned out by breathless moans against your ear, of prayers and curses and promises. Your toes curled, your eyelids fluttered shut. Wild movements crescendoed into the purest form of what you knew to be the truth: the Earth was blue, the moon was silver, and Loki’s love would always be with you no matter where he went. 

The orgasm ripped through you like a gravitational force collapsing the entire universe. Your muscles tensed, your body trembled underneath him. Pleasure seeped out of your pores and you cried out for him, incoherent and delirious. It felt like you had left your body entirely - remarkably disconnected from reality, but still safely anchored to him. 

Loki fell off the edge just after you did. His muscles contracted as he clung to you, his voice nothing but shameless groans and heated gasps. With parted lips and a heavy breath, he intertwined his fingers with yours, he buried his face into your neck, and together your bodies finally collapsed within that mutual satisfaction. 

An immeasurable length of time passed during the quiet contentment that followed, and by now, the sun had fully set. Unsure of whether you were just dozing or if you’d actually joined the astral plane, you allowed yourself to remain limp and boneless in his arms. Once again, gravity had no authority here, and you found peace just drifting aimlessly through the ever-growing expansion of outer space. 

“You never answered my earlier question, darling….” 

Loki’s demulcent voice gently pulled you back down to Earth. Your eyelids struggled to open underneath the pressure of the planet’s immense gravity, and suddenly you couldn’t remember anything that had transpired beforehand. 

“No, I’m...pretty sure I answered it already,” you replied with a false confidence, stretching your body against his in an obvious attempt to distract him. 

He chuckled and shifted with you, propping himself up on one elbow. His other hand traced a swirling pattern along your hip. “And I’m quite certain that you didn’t, love…”

For someone called the God of Mischief, he was surely determined to never let you get away with anything. You let out a laughing groan of frustration, and as your eyes opened, as you looked up into his, your breath vanished from your lungs. 

The stars looked so different now. They weren’t Ziggy’s, nor Bowie’s, anymore - they were Loki’s. His glamour had started to fail while you were making love, and now the large constellations of the deepest greens and blues, of Loki himself, were all that stared lovingly back at you. 

Loki grinned when he noticed the awe in your expression. His brow arched in a curious and teasing fashion when you couldn’t answer him. 

“My goodness, she’s turned into a cosmonaut and floated away, hasn’t she…?” he murmured softly, pretending to talk to himself. He took his fingers and made them dance against the sensitive skin of your neck to get your attention. “Hello, darling? Are you still there?” 

Almost immediately you were drowning in a fit of giggles. You scrunched up your shoulders and tried to squirm away, laughing and cursing at him while Loki continued his teasing. But his fingers, tender yet relentless on your sensitive skin, made it impossible to keep your eyes open or coordinate your muscles enough to put a stop to his attack. 

“Yes, hello? I was wondering if you’ve seen a beautiful girl in there?” he continued in that same vexatious tone, his hold on you tightening as he nuzzled his face to yours. “She’s my darling companion, and I’ve been missing her terribly. Can you tell her to come back to me, please?” 

You let out more breathless laughs, you made more desperate wriggles in his grasp. If you’d been able to see anything, you would have seen his cheeky grin and sparkling eyes, all lit up with mirth and devilry. There was absolutely nothing Loki loved more than play, and perhaps that was the true meaning of life anyway. 

But when you finally cried out for mercy, he instantly relented, granting you more benevolence within a single moment of play than he’d ever been given in centuries. And all things considered, Loki was still quite delicate in his handling of you. After all, he had gentleness woven deep within him - the kind that had developed out of defiance, not because it was taught, and that just made him all the more genuine. 

Dutifully, like it was an honor, he shifted your bodies so that he was on his back and you were nestled safely to his chest. Your leg curled around his, and after his fingers completed their soothing motions over the skin he’d just attacked, they moved in wide swoops along your back. 

“I suppose I should repeat my question then?” he murmured softly after kissing your temple. 

His skin, soft and smooth and pale, now smelled like an ancient fire that could burn his way through anything, if he’d wanted it to. It was intoxicating. You wondered if that was the same scent that had once filled the air of Asgard, if you’d ever get to experience it yourself someday. 

“Mmm, yeah. I think you should…” 

Loki cleared his throat, hesitating. His fingertips drifted up to the divot of your shoulder. “Did you truly not enjoy the costume I chose?” 

His voice was so quiet, so tender that it made your heart ache a little bit. You shifted on the bed, leaning up to look him in the eyes. 

“No, I did love it, Loki! It was really thoughtful of you, and for a second, I…” You smiled fondly, recalling the moment you first saw him, while one of your favorite songs ever blasted from your record player. “I really thought it was actually David Bowie, back from the dead…” 

Loki quirked an eyebrow. “And so naturally, your first reaction was to…laugh at it?” 

Your lips pursed together, trying to suppress another one. “Okay, I’m sorry about that. But I wasn’t laughing at the costume, it was honestly just…really overwhelming to walk in and see so unexpectedly…”

“Oh, you found it to be overwhelming, did you?” Loki grinned again, apparently possessing an infinite supply of them. “My poor little dearest, I’m afraid you only have yourself to blame for that.”

“Me?!” you laughed incredulously. “But I’m the victim here!”

So sure of himself, Loki gave a teasing nod. “Yes, you see, darling - I was in the process of choosing the appropriate level of detail for the illusion when you so rudely interrupted me…”

You maintained a playful, sarcastic expression as he explained himself. “Sure, sure. Or you could have just, you know…locked the bedroom door if you didn’t want to be interrupted…” 

Loki chucked and playfully swatted at your hip. “So then tell me, what about it was too much for you? I had already decided that the red hair was a bit excessive, but should I alter the clothing as well? The voice?” he asked, his hand now softly soothing the skin he’d just swatted. 

You silently thanked whatever it was other there that Loki had decided to keep his actual hair; it was one of his best features. Almost automatically, your fingers drifted through those gorgeous strands of caliginous curls, relishing in their strength and fluidity. He let out a tranquil hum when your touch grazed his scalp, and the sound was so effortless, so real, that nothing else could ever compare. 

Unfortunately, your thoughts then drifted towards far less pleasant topics. 

No one in their right mind could ever bring Loki’s capabilities as a sorcerer into question, especially not during battle. In fact, Wanda had previously expressed feelings of inadequacy when comparing her talents to his. But he had spent entire centuries perfecting his craft, he’d dedicated entire human lifetimes to his studies - to the point where most people remained completely unaware of its full extent once an illusion had been cast. 

A large part of that was because he preferred to remain an unanswerable question to everyone else, especially after the attack on New York. He’d rather they looked at his daggers instead of at his soul, or at the black heart he worried was the true source of his seidr. He didn’t want anyone to know what he was truly capable of, lest they fear him even more - or try to use his own knowledge against him. 

But if he wore the illusion of one of Bowie’s personas to the party - not dressed as, but if he actually was the physical embodiment of Ziggy Stardust come back to life - then everyone would know just how afraid of him they should be. You could see the fear-mongering op-ed headlines already - Former Alien Invader Transforms Himself into a Dead Rocker. What’s to Stop Him from Imitating the President Next? 

And the critics who didn’t make that massive jump towards an impossible conclusion? You already knew that if he wore the wrong costume to the party, they’d have even more reason to pick him apart; if they secretly loved his costume, they’d simply accuse him of pandering. There was literally no direction for him to go that wouldn’t result in more needless hatred being spewed at him. 

Even more pressing than all of that, what if they accused him of corrupting an innocent human when they learned about your relationship? You desperately didn’t want to make his life harder than it needed to be, but neither could you face bringing that concern up to him; what if he secretly agreed with them? What if he decided he was defiling your entire life just by existing within it?

What if he decided to leave you, in order to correct that grievous mistake? 

Your fingertips gently traced the angle of his jaw. His eyes drifted closed as he clearly savored your touch, and his expression was just so serene, so peaceful. You couldn’t let him sacrifice that tranquility for the sake of a party; Loki may not have needed your protection on the battlefield, but you sure as hell weren’t going to let him wander into danger back at home. 

“Well, maybe the issue is that you were using an illusion, instead of a costume…” 

His eyes fluttered open beneath a furrowed brow. His pupils widened before fixating on you. “I don’t understand. The goal is to become the subject in question, is it not?” 

You couldn’t help but laugh again; sometimes he surprised you with how human he was, and other times it was because of how alien he was. Letting out a slow breath, you pushed yourself up to sitting next to him. Your legs curled over to the side, and you draped yourself across his chest. 

“I think the real issue is that you might be slightly misunderstanding the point of a costume contest,” you began with a gentle smile. “Using magic to alter your appearance for a contest could be considered…cheating, by some people.” 

His expression was tender, but unrelenting. “I’m still not seeing the problem, darling. If I’m to become someone else in order to participate, then I’m going to become someone else…” 

“But the whole point is how much effort you put into the costume,” you explained with a gentle head tilt. “It’s about how creative you can be with either a limited skill set, or a small budget, or shortened time constraints…” 

You paused for a moment to let your words sink in before continuing.

“And I’m so sorry, but using magic just…isn’t that much effort for you. No matter how amazing or lifelike the illusion is.” 

He nodded, and his eyes flickered with understanding. For a very brief moment, he seemed to be taking your words to heart. But when his lips curved into a cheeky grin, you knew he was about to make another snarky comment. 

“You’re saying Stark will have a conniption if I win the costume contest at his own party? Is that it?” 

You sighed and rolled your eyes while matching his smile. It was actually incredible that he still had this much energy to devote towards acting like a total menace. “Yes, if it helps you to think about it like that, then that is exactly what I’m trying to say…” 

Loki continued thinking about your explanation for another moment, his gaze distant while his hand ran along the length of your arm. Eventually, the grin on his face slowly shifted towards one of true sincerity. 

“Alright then. What would you suggest I do instead?” 

You met his gaze with an even bigger smile of your own. All that remained of his illusion was a jagged, crimson lightning bolt stretching down his cheek, and you brought your fingertips down to gently trace along the bolt’s edges. His skin was so very soft, the transition between alabaster and crimson so seamless. It was only then that you remembered one of the purchases made earlier that day with Wanda and Nat. 

“Well, for starters…I think we ought to actually paint this design on your face.” 

Before he could even respond, you had already hopped out of bed - not that you would have responded to him anyway. And while wearing nothing but a scheming grin, you practically soared across the room, stopping just long enough to grab a few clothes from the bedroom floor on your way to the living room. 

“We ought to do what, darling?” Loki’s incredulous voice called out after you disappeared through the doorway. 

As you hurried into the living room, you bounced on one foot, and then the other, while pulling the pair of panties up to your hips. After clumsily slipping the t-shirt over your head and guiding your arms through its sleeves, you lowered down to your knees next to the shopping bags left by the front door. 

Did you have any experience with painting faces? None whatsoever.

Was that going to stop you now? Absolutely not. His illusion may have been overwhelming, but Loki’s inspiration of picking a David Bowie character for his Halloween costume was beyond perfect, and you were going to do whatever it took to make that idea a more feasible reality. 

Rummaging past the bright pink wig and the fringed flapper dress and the vampire fangs purchased earlier that day, you finally found it: a palette of Halloween make-up. The flat, rectangular box contained a few small brushes and a row of circular discs, each one filled with a different and very bright shade of creamy, metallic make-up. 

It was definitely a very cheap make-up set, and probably had way too many questionable ingredients that you’d never be able to fully investigate, but it should work just fine for this little trial - as long as Loki let you anywhere near him with it. You were sure that he would after batting your pretty little eyelashes at him. 

Back in the bedroom, you could hear him shifting on the bed. You shot back up to your feet. “Don’t get up! Just stay right there, Loki, I’m coming back!”

You carefully ripped into the package as you padded across the living room. Not only was this your first time painting someone’s face, but it might be the first time Loki’d ever had his face painted as well. A twinge of excitement, laced with a hint of unease, swam freely inside your veins; there was a good reason why your skillset had led you towards a career of getting beat up on a professional level, instead of towards a quieter, peaceful career of make-up artistry or hair-styling. 

Complicating matters even more was the fact that Loki was quite particular about his appearance. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin this newfound interest in the Halloween party. 

When you returned to the doorway of your bedroom, Loki was seated on the edge of your shared bed. His long legs were spread wide, with delicious expanses of thigh peeking out between the tousled sheets. His expression was dreamy and brooding as he ran a large hand through his midnight curls, like his thoughts were a hundred thousand miles away while he smoothed and detangled. 

His face lit up when he finally noticed you, but then it dropped when he saw what you were holding. “Please tell me that’s a joke. You’re joking with that, yes?” 

You grinned and shook your head like you were trying to fling your nervous energy into a nearby galaxy. “Not a chance. Scoot!” you laughed, waving your hand to get him to make room for you. 

He complied, but still let out a frustrated groan as he shifted to the middle of the bed and leaned back against the headboard. “Darling, be reasonable. I’m already getting a rash just looking at that preposterous concoction…” 

“Oh, come on! ” you whined, fluttering your eyelashes in a way you know he both loved and hated. “I know it’s not Armani, but you’ll survive a test run with it, right?” 

Loki sighed, and then he softly patted the mattress next to him. “You’re lucky you’re so damn adorable…” 

“I know. It’s a blessing and a curse for you, isn’t it?” 

Having won the first battle, you settled next to him on the bed. Your legs curled up underneath you, and with an innocent smile, you blinked at him once more, a silent request that he drop the final remainder of his illusion. The lightning bolt on his face disappeared with an emerald glimmer, and a playful smirk replaced it. 

“Yes, it is. And you’re going to be so very embarrassed if this folderol does actually kill me…” 

You carefully pried open the palette and dragged a brush through the creamy, red substance on the palette. “Oh, please. Of all the things that could kill you, it’s not going to be drug-store brand holiday make-up…” 

Starting at his forehead, you made gentle strokes against his skin, testing to see how well it absorbed the cream. As expected, it didn’t smear very well, the edges were smudged and uneven. But there was no need to panic just yet - it was still completely fixable. That is, as long as you avoided direct eye contact with him, or else you might become even more flustered than you already were. 

Loki’s gaze shifted as you worked, watching either your hands or your face depending on whether you were gathering color or painting his skin. His features were soft, his eyes still dreamy as he watched you work, but you carefully kept your attention towards the task at hand; his attention was like a black hole of colossal proportions, and once you were caught in it, the only thing keeping you from splitting into a million different strands of yourself was Loki himself. 

When he realized his alluring good-looks weren’t enough to distract you this time, he switched to a different tactic.

“Darling, do you really expect me to believe that Stark is allowing Miss Potts to paint his face for the party?” 

You snorted, expecting nothing less from someone called the God of Mischief. “If Tony knows what’s good for him, he is.”

As you pulled the brush across the bridge of his nose, Loki let out a chuckle and titled his head. “Is that some sort of veiled threat, darling? What happens if I refuse to cooperate with you?” 

That little movement was just enough to ruin what might have been a decent brush stroke, and it made you smear crimson down the length of his nose instead of diagonally across his cheek. 

“Hey, stop moving!” you gasped and laughed at the same time. “Or you’re gonna wind up looking even more ridiculous!” 

“Would it be rude to say that I find that difficult to believe, my love?” 

Ignoring his comment, you licked the tips of your finger and swiped it along the edges of the lightning bolt, trying to smooth it out. When the makeup just smeared instead of erasing neatly, a new rush of panic settled in your chest. You licked your finger again and rubbed it harder over his skin, and then you tried using your other, untainted fingers - but all that resulted in was the tips of those digits, and now your tongue, turning the brightest red to have ever existed. 

“Something the matter, darling?” Loki asked knowingly, repeating his earlier question. He pursed his lips together, just barely attempting to suppress a vindicated smile as he watched you struggle. “Is the inferior product you insisted upon ruining the homemade look you’d imagined for me?” 

Forcing your expression into one of neutrality required a tremendous amount of effort. “Nope. Everything’s going perfectly, my love,” you lied, switching the makeup palette to your other hand. Within seconds, the fingertips of both hands were traitorously stained with the truth. 

“Really? You’re absolutely sure about that, darling?” Loki asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he glanced at the make-up palette. “Please correct me if I’m mistaken, but there seems to be more tint on your fingers than what’s left in the container…” 

Your face scrunched up in amused frustration, and the unpleasant taste of chemicals and oils now completely coated your tongue. “Mmhmm, this is a…totally normal part of the process.” 

His comments were just making everything worse, but you were still determined to see this attempt through to the end. At that point, the makeup palette was discarded entirely and soon became lost within the bed sheets as you pushed yourself up to your knees and shifted closer to him. You took the hem of your t-shirt and pulled it up in a desperate attempt to finally fix the bolt’s outline and salvage your work. 

You swiped the soft fabric down the length of his nose, but the make-up must have believed your t-shirt to be a brush, and all you did was push the red deeper into his skin. Silently cursing yourself, you pulled your t-shirt up further and tried to focus on gathering as much color as possible. Secretly though, you prayed that effectively flashing him like this would distract him from making more teasing comments at your expense. 

But that didn’t quite work either, and Loki’s chuckle from behind your t-shirt was both leery and leering. 

“And now you’ve resorted to seduction as a means of distraction from your lies…” he purred, the sound almost a growl as he brought his hands to your waist. “I’d say our relationship might be having a negative effect on your morality, darling, but you’d be much better at this if it was…” 

You were still determined not to let him win, even as a shuddered breath tumbled from your lips. Your heart beat faster in your chest as the entire front of your t-shirt became tinted with red, and your face warmed from the feel of his hands gliding down to your hips. 

“It’s fine! It’s fine, Loki. Trust me, I’ve done this a million - ” 

“Sweetheart.” 

Loki’s voice was kind but firm when he interrupted. He leaned back as he pulled your shirt down, revealing the devastation on his face that your attempts to fix had caused. “Please just admit that you’re not very good at this…” 

You gasped and clamped a hand over your mouth. There was red everywhere - in his eyebrows and his eyelashes, across his right cheek and somehow, underneath his chin. The combination of mess on his both serious and amused expression was a horrifying, delightful sight, and you only barely managed to swallow the giggle bubbling in your throat. 

Loki arched a suspicious eyebrow. He flicked his wrist and produced a small, handheld mirror with his seidr, and he stared at you expectantly - granting you one final opportunity to come clean, as it were. 

“Come on, darling. I will love you no less if you just admit it.” 

But you couldn’t; all you could manage was to laugh, cover your eyes and brace for the inevitable as he finally looked at his reflection. 

“This is absolutely marvelous, darling,” he finally replied in a wry tone of voice. 

You shook while trying to suppress another laugh, but it was all over now. He’d seen the abominable, unskilled attempt at facial decoration you’d left on his skin, and you knew he was never going to let you hear the end of it despite the fact that he was laughing too. 

“And you were absolutely right, this is so much better than using magic. Perhaps I should go into battle like this. I could simply frighten our enemies to death…” 

You let out a heavy laugh of defeat and let your hands fall to your thighs. You were sure there was probably red make-up smudged all over your own face as well now, but you didn’t care anymore. “Alright, so. Maybe I’m not that great at painting faces…” 

“Oh, on the contrary, sweet girl…” Loki chuckled as he tossed the mirror away and pulled you closer, settling you over his lap. He leaned up and nuzzled his nose to yours. “This is impeccable work. Stunning, even…” 

“No, stop it! You’re making a mess!” you laughed and tried to look away, but his face followed yours, no doubt just smearing even more make-up all over each other. “Loki! You’re ruining all of my hard work!” 

His arms tightened around you. He began to kiss and nip at your jaw, your nose, your neck. “Or am I making it more authentic? Did you ever think about that, darling?” 

Resigning yourself to retaliation at Loki’s level, you matched his every kiss and nip with another to his jaw, his nose, his neck. He let out an encouraging chuckle and cupped your jaw with his hands, angling your face properly to his. When your lips finally met, he let out a soft hum, and then his kiss shifted into one of reassurance. 

Your arms slid around his neck as he leaned back against the headboard. His lips moved slowly and tenderly as he held you close to his chest, and they said everything that you needed to know. This was okay, he was okay. Aside from a few errant, washable streaks of crimson on his face, nothing real was actually amiss here. 

He may have been teasing you before, but he was also loving you. The experiment had yielded far less than stellar results, but that was still okay. A suitable ensemble for the party would be found eventually - or perhaps just better make-up products - and the two of you were still going to have as much fun as someone could have at a corporate holiday party, even if there were a few extra pairs of wandering eyes there. 

After another moment or two, the kiss broke naturally. You let out a slow breath and pressed your forehead to his. “Alright, I fully admit that I completely suck at face-painting. We don’t have to go down that route…” 

Loki smiled and nodded. A glimmering wash of emerald erased any evidence of red from all skin and clothing. “Yes, I’m quite certain that we can come up with something else…” 

By revealing his mortal partner to the world, you’d hoped it would soften the rough edges of Loki that his detractors wanted to keep illuminated underneath a hateful microscope. You’d wanted to protect him, to make his life simpler, to possibly ease his troubled integration on the planet he’d once tried to subjugate. 

But the relaxed smile on his lips told you that he didn’t need you to do any of those things. Loki was from the stars, yes, but he only ever clung to one specific thing. He may have come from on high, his perspective and past experiences originating from a millennia away from yours, but he was still here, looking at you. Loving only you.

You were his, and he was yours. No amount of criticism, or any blades held to his throat, or cruel darts thrown at his loving eyes were ever going to avert his gaze. They could make him climb mountains on mountains to get to you, but as long as there were sunbirds to soar back down with, then it was all worth it, wasn’t it? 

Your hands slid into his hair, gently tangling themselves within his dark curls. Your eyes roamed slowly over his angular features and icy blue eyes, admiring the planes of his cheekbones and the true depth of his gaze that simultaneously showcased both the wide expanse of outer space and your own reflection within his irises. 

Loki was timeless. He was broken and hopeful, grateful and almost too intelligent to not know better. He was pensive, and he understood light and dark better than anyone else you’d ever met. The noir shadows of his heart were what had initially drawn you in, but the hidden brilliance of his glowing soul was what had made you stay. 

A new idea coalesced inside your heart, and you settled your hips to his with a sly grin. “Are you by any chance familiar with my favorite David Bowie persona?” 

Loki smiled again, but this time he shook his head. “Are you really only telling me now that the Space Oddity himself is not your favorite persona of his?” he murmured curiously. 

You bit your lip and reached for your laptop on the nightstand, eager to introduce him to something brand new once more.

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

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[hurtspideyparker]

Emotional Support Intern Peter Parker

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pepper glares at Tony. "Really, bribery?" 

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

Pepper and Tony hold each other's stares.

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

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

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

Pepper glances at Peter in consideration. 

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

"Oh, I haven't really-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You are such a man child!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Emotional support intern huh?" he says smugly. 

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

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

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

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Don’t catch feelings

A/N: For @elixirfromthestars ‘s Writing Challenge Thank you for hosting the best writing challenges 💛 Leave a heart, comment or reblog if you enjoyed reading!

Pairing: Tony Stark x F! Reader

Warning: 18+ smut, angst. This ain’t a healthy relationship folks. This Tony isn’t your sweet, adorable, loveable Tony.

Prompts used: 🍫 ✩｡⋆⸜ "They warned me about you, I should have listened."

🏛...✩ I am never going to be over you. — Scandal

Tony Stark Masterlist

Don’t catch feelings. He’s a notorious heartbreaker & he won’t be the one who would end up getting hurt once it’s all over.

This was a mantra that was on loop in your mind, constantly, a warning that the rational part of your brain issued religiously. One that heart chose to ignore, time and time again.

He was everything you could ever want, and yet everything you could never have. Someone capable of giving you the world and capable of completely destroying it too.

That was the kind of power Tony Stark had.

You were merely a distraction, a seat filler for someone who’d left him a broken shell of a man. A place you were content being in, for some time. Until you caught feelings.

Feelings for a man who was so far lost in his genius mind, he seemed unable to find his way out. The Avengers had been at the crossroads, the Sokovia Accords broke the team, sides were chosen. Pepper Potts had left him & that just seemed like the straw that broke the camel’s back.

The forlorn genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist had found somewhat of a temporary solace in you. And you were there for him. In every way you could be.

“You're trembling. Is it the anticipation or just me?" His words broke you out of your reverie as your body instantly reacted to his touch, skin alive with goosepimples as his fingers trailed down your bare back.

You weren’t facing him in bed, you couldn’t when your mind was running a mile a minute. You hated the fact that a simple touch could make your body react in such a way. It belonged to Tony. You belonged to Tony.

Which is why when he tugged your shoulder to make you lay on your back, you did, and dutifully spread your legs when he crawled between them.

“You're mine tonight. Don't even think about leaving." He murmured, lips against your stomach as if reading your racing mind.

His touch was tender as his fingers danced along your soft and warm skin, lips trailing along a well-rehearsed path as your eyes closed and you surrendered yourself to his ministrations once again.

Paying attention to your pert breasts, he tweaked your nipples till they hardened into buds, your breaths now coming out as shallow huffs. You knew he was ready to go again by the way you felt his rapidly stirring cock that sat against his thigh, occasionally brushing with the inside of your thigh.

Fingers finding his short hair, you tugged on them firmly as Tony kissed his way up your neck, sucking on your skin, marking it as his. His cock leaked precum against your leg as he continued, his hips rutted subtly.

“Tony, please..” you breathed, already drunk on him as your arousal gathered between your legs, desire unfurling deep within your belly.

"I know exactly what you want, and I'm going to give it to you." He smirked, snaking a hand between your bodies to cup your sex.

You let out a gasp as his finger intruded your slick channel, another one joining in as soon as he got the reaction he’d hoped for. Your hips moved on their own accord as Tony continued to pleasure you.

Broken or not, Tony was a generous lover. He paid attention to your needs and wasn’t shy about asking for his.

And yet you wanted more. Your heart yearned for more than just a random fuck despite knowing you wouldn’t. It wasn’t too hard to fall for Tony Stark, in fact, it was probably the easiest thing you had ever done. A bright future with the man seemed like a distant dream and yet you continued to fantasise on.

Bringing yourself back to reality again, you found Tony’s mouth hovering over your clit, his fingers still working their way to your orgasm. Eyes darkened with lust, his tongue peeked out for a taste of you.

“You taste so sweet, Y/N.”

You could only moan in response, the assault bringing you closer to the edge as your walls fluttered around him, desperate for more.

You came hard against mouth, crying out his name like a prayer while your heart pounded against your chest.

In that blurry haze, you barely registered him rolling on a condom over his length and settling between your legs once more, claiming your mouth in a searing kiss.

“Want me to fuck you, baby?” His hoarse breath was hot against your ear as he parted your legs further, lining up his cock to your entrance, teasing and waiting for you to beg.

Nodding, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer in hopes that he’d give you what you both checked into this expensive hotel for.

Taking pity on you, Tony slipped into your wet heat, letting out a grunt of satisfaction as your bodies connected.

He began moving, head dropped against your shoulder, his pubic bone brushed against your clit with every move. You felt your second orgasm building gradually but he pulled out of you abruptly, flipping you over so you were on your stomach.

Tony then wasted no time in taking what he needed. Slipping into you once again, he snapped his hips against yours in urgency, fingers digging into your skin deep enough to leave marks. This felt different, something that leaned more towards pain than pleasure. Gripping the sheets beneath you, you cried into the pillow, your voice muffled against the fabric.

You weren’t unaware about this sudden flip, it happened more often than not these days. You felt used, an outlet meant for his pleasure alone and yet you allowed this to continue. Because you were addicted. Addicted to the pleasure and pain. Addicted to Tony Stark.

His grunts filled the room as you felt him twitch inside, knowing he wouldn’t last longer now. Tears sprung to your eyes as his cock speared into you, you wanted nothing more than to get out of there to save yourself from breaking.

Tony came with a loud moan, emptying his seed inside the condom as his hips stilled, his forehead resting against your shoulder as caught his breath.

“This has to stop.” He breathed, making your heart stop for a moment. His words didn’t match his actions as he was still holding you close, still connected.

“What do you mean?” You were too afraid to hear the answer.

“I can’t do this anymore, Y/N. I’m not what you want, trust me.”

If only he knew how wrong he was.

“I know you, Y/N. I know that you…I know.” He couldn’t bring himself to say the words. He was well aware of your feelings.

“Tony, I—”

“Don’t say it. Please. You shouldn’t.”

You scrambled away after he pulled out and went to clean himself, gathering your clothes to get the hell out of there as quick as you could.

“They warned me about you. I should’ve listened.” Your tears burned against your cheek now, and you did nothing to hide them, wanting Tony to see the heartbreak he’d caused.

He saw it all, and did nothing to stop you. The part of you that fell in love with this man secretly hoped he would stop you, fight for you and say it’d all be okay.

“I’m never going to be over you.” You whispered right before walking out of the door, slamming it shut behind you, leaving Tony Stark for good.

[daydreamgoddess14]

Backseat Driver pt. 1

Summary: Bucky Barnes is reluctantly running for Congress with the financial and political backing of Pepper Potts. Everything is under control until she assigns him a driver. A very chatty, overly enthusiastic, playlist-addicted driver who seems determined to worm her way past his hundred-yard emotional perimeter. He hates the arrangement. Until he really doesn’t.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 5,800 (might've gotten so carried away I actually broke Tumblr and couldn't post the whole fic in one post.... so I feel like that deserves some kind of award 🤭, part 2 will post tomorrow)

Warnings/Tags/Info: No use of y/n, l/n, reader is described as female. I have literally no idea whatsoever the process involved in running for Congress or being a Congressperson. Expect grumpy!Bucky, sunshine!Reader, fluff, Sam being the most glorious human ever, Pepper Potts continuing to be a badass.... Ummm... I can't think of anything else to warn you of? Enjoy! 🩷

“I don't need a driver.”

“You're not driving yourself anymore.”

“The hell I'm not, this might have been your stupid idea, but it doesn't make me your little pet.”

“James,” Pepper Potts said smoothly (that’s when he knew he’d pissed her off), “you'd know if you were my pet. Now shoo. The car is downstairs along with your driver. Do not keep them waiting.”

Conversation over, apparently. He waited, just a little longer. Just long enough for her to sigh and pointedly not look at him. Just long enough to let her know that he owed her nothing. 

If anything, he was the one doing her a favour. And a big one, at that. 

“Congressman Barnes -”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm gone.” 

He didn't close the door behind him. 

Another small act of defiance.

The elevator ride felt like an eternity. He stepped out into the heavily guarded parking level, the security guard nodded in his direction, and pointed to a sleek, top spec Range Rover with blacked out windows.

She leaned over the bonnet, scribbling into a notepad. At the sound of his footsteps, she turned abruptly.

“Congressman, hi -” she began, holding out her hand. 

He didn’t take it. “You’re my driver?”

“I am,” she said cautiously, waiting for him to interrupt again. “Ready to go?”

He didn’t respond. 

Vibranium clinked dully against the metal of the car door.

“Uhh, that’s my seat?” She said, her lips pinched to hide her smile. 

He left the driver door wide open and moved to the rear door instead, sliding into the car without a word. 

“Thanks!” She chirped, hopping up behind the wheel.

The seat automatically adjusted to her height. He watched the mirrors shift too, suiting her position. 

She threw her notepad and phone onto the seat beside her. In the centre console, she’d wedged a water bottle and a half empty iced coffee.

“Can you even reach the pedals?” He couldn’t help asking.

“Good one, haven’t heard that before. Little ol’ me, great big hunk of a car… course I can reach. I have this poking stick, see - helps me push the pedals ‘cos my tiny legs just can’t do it -” she laughed.

“Right, I get it. You can reach.”

“Sure you’re done? Would you like to see my licence? Proof that I can drive stick? How about you jump out and make sure I can see over the steering wheel?”

He stared out of the window instead.

With a self-satisfied smirk, she watched him through the rear view mirror. 

“Seatbelt on?” She asked. 

“Are you always like this?”

“Yep. Now, any music requests?” 

His frown deepened. 

“Good, I don't want to hear them. Driver privileges. Hope you like 90s dance.” She waited until he'd caught her eye in the mirror, the horror crossing his face. 

And then she winked. 

The car roared to life. The V8 engine growled, low and powerful, but the smooth leather seats and plush interior barely shuddered. The tyres squeaked on the ramp and as the sounds of Faithless filled the vehicle, she pulled out into the steady stream of traffic.

The thumping beat reverberated through the speakers and the driver hummed along to the music, sneaking glances at the grumpy figure in the backseat. 

Bucky's misery was obvious. He kept his arms crossed over his chest, and his gaze fixed out the window, his jaw clenched.

The sound of the music was only broken by the occasional sound of him sighing deeply.

The humming grew louder until the track reached the chorus and the driver began singing along, full, off-key commitment.

Bucky couldn't help but grimace at her wildly out of tune efforts. She had to be doing this on purpose.

"Do you have to do that?" He asked shortly. 

"Do what?" She called over the thumping bass. 

"Can you turn it down?"

"Huh?"

"Turn. It. Down."

She reached for the volume dial. "What are you saying?"

"God, finally," he muttered. "Do you have to do that?" he asked. 

"Do I have to do what?"

"Sing along? It's awful."

"Oh. Well... I just like to," she shrugged. 

“But you can't sing. You're way off," he said bluntly, his tone flat.

She shrugged. “Isn't that part of the fun?”

“Says who?” 

“Oh I love this one!” She said gleefully, ignoring his question and turning the volume dial up again, higher than previously. “Love life and laughter is all I believe…”

Ahead of them, the traffic slowed and Bucky watched with increasing alarm, his brows pinched together, as the driver bounced and shimmied in her seat to the beat of the music, her hands either waving enthusiastically or clutching her heart like the song had cracked her open. 

“I feel your hands, your lips, the heat of your body

Whisper your love to me say that you love me

Please just love me down and never leave me,

I'm a dreamer-uh-uh-uhhhhh!”

“Kill me now,” he growled, yanking his phone from his pocket. He scrolled through his contacts and raised the phone to his ear. 

"Yo man, I was just about to call you,” came Sam’s voice, already full of smug amusement. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I heard you got yourself a new ride?" Bucky rolled his eyes at the barely contained laughter in Sam’s tone.

"News travels fast," he grumbled, watching her continue to bop in her seat. Sam chuckled on the other end of the line, clearly amused by the situation.

"How's that going for you?"

“How’d you think?” Bucky hissed, “How’d you find out anyway?”

"Let's just say, my sources are always reliable," Sam replied cryptically. 

Bucky rolled his eyes, but couldn't hide a small smirk. “Pepper just told you, right?”

“Bingo.”

“That figures," he said.  

"Yeah, some of us have gotta be the grown ups around here,” Sam laughed. "So… you having fun?"

"I don't need a driver."

"A little louder, I don't think she heard you." Sam deadpanned.

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “I don't need a driver," he repeated louder, making sure she heard this time.

“Pepper’s right, you’re a public figure now, man. You can’t just be tearing your motorcycle around like a feral cat.”

As Sam negotiated, the driver in question lifted her hand and flipped Bucky the middle finger.

Too busy flipping him off, she didn’t notice the traffic ahead slowing - and slammed the brakes hard.

Bucky lurched forward in the back seat, instinctively reaching out to brace himself, gripping the back of her seat.

"Oof, shit, sorry." She grimaced, easing to a more gentle stop behind the car in front.

He slumped back, indentations left in her headrest from the tight grip of his vibranium fingers. 

He tried to play it cool, acting like he hadn't been caught off guard.

"Watch where you're going," he muttered, his voice gruff.

"Sorry," she said, her eyes still on the road ahead. "These idiots don't know how to drive. I'm pretty sure they're texting."  

"You sure it's not your reckless driving that's the issue here?" Bucky retorted.

He went back to his call before she could respond. 

"I gotta go, I'm on my way to a meeting,” he told Sam, barely holding back a growl. “Y’know, if my damn driver can get me there in one piece. I should probably read the notes before I go in." 

"Enjoy the drive buddy, see you later," Sam cackled as Bucky ended the call with a sharp tap.

He leaned back in his seat, glowering out the window as the city whizzed by outside.

"You don't have to look so miserable," the driver said, her voice cutting through their uncomfortable silence.  

Bucky didn't respond, his gaze still fixed on the city outside.  

She rolled her eyes at his stubbornness. 

“Honestly, it's not the end of the world, having someone drive you around. You get more work done, you get to listen to my excellent music -”

"We're not talking about this," he muttered, opening the files he'd put on the seat next to him. “I'm sorting this out with Potts, your assignment will be over by the end of the day.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

They lapsed into a kind of truce, the radio mercifully turned down and the driver still singing along at a more acceptable volume. 

Her singing was the only nagging reminder that she was there. He tried to ignore her and focus on the files in front of him, but his concentration kept getting derailed by her off-key humming. 

"Can you stop that?" he snapped suddenly, surprising even himself.

"Youuu got it," she said quietly, falling silent at last.

Her smile faltered for the first time, just long enough for Bucky to notice.

A quiet sense of relief washed over him, but then, after a few moments an uneasy feeling settled over him. 

The quiet was too stifling. 

Without the white noise he found himself hyper-aware of her presence. 

He could now hear the rhythm of her breathing, the squeak of the leather steering wheel beneath her grip. He could hear the steady drum of her heart, a few beats quicker than a resting rhythm.

His focus sharpened on the sound of her pulse. 

He wondered what could be causing her heart rate to increase. Was she nervous? Excited? 

He snuck a glance at her, taking in the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she inhaled, the quick exhale.

Before he could ask, she brought the car to a smooth stop outside a towering building. 

"Here we go, first stop. I'll be here whenever you're ready to move on." She said softly.

Bucky collected his notes from the seat and shoved them into the leather messenger back that rested on his lap.

He exited the car without a word, taking a moment to take in the impressive building before him. Behind him, he heard her window glide down, the tinny motor sound imperceptible to most ears.

“Thank you,” she prompted him with a grin.

“Yeah,” he acknowledged without turning around. “Thanks.”

He didn’t turn back until he got to the revolving doors of the building, by which point he could see her huddled over her notepad once again. 

As if feeling his stare, she turned to the doors and smiled brightly, waving in his direction.

He ignored her.

~~~~

His meeting dragged on for over two hours. Irritation and fatigue picked at his brain and made his eyes itch. He felt dehydrated, hungry, and by the time he finally stepped out into the sunlight, his stomach rumbled in time with the traffic.

Out front, the Range Rover sat proudly - exactly where he’d left it.

Or rather, where he’d been left.

He could see her, either talking on the phone or - more likely - singing along to the radio.

He wondered if she’d even moved for the last two hours.

Seeing him on the sidewalk, she jumped out of the car and opened the rear door for him. Further along the seat, the drinks holder had been pulled down and inside sat a large bottle of water and a tightly wrapped foil… something.

 “What’s that?”

“Figured you’d be hungry. And thirsty.” She shrugged, closing the door behind him before he could respond. She slipped into her own seat and turned the ignition.

He could feel her snatching glances at him in the rearview mirror while he carefully peeled back the foil on what turned out to be a still warm burrito. 

“What?” He asked warily through a mouthful of food. 

“Don't talk with your mouth full. It's not becoming of a Congressman.” She teased. 

“Not a Congressman yet, doll.” He sneered. 

She pulled out into the stream of traffic into a gap he'd only have taken on his motorcycle. The car behind flashed its lights in annoyance but she just flicked her hazards on and off in thanks. Over the sound of her music, the GPS announced a delay ahead. 

“We're gonna be late,” he complained. 

“Have a little faith, please.” She grinned and took the next left, ignoring the directions on her phone. Twenty minutes later, her passenger fed and watered, and the traffic defeated, she pulled up at their next stop. 

Early. 

“Shall I say I told you so now, or save it for later in case any more rack up?”

“How about you don't say anything?” 

“Not going to happen. Enjoy your meeting, I'll be right here.”

He hesitated before getting out of the car. “You know, you didn’t have to…” he started quietly. 

“I wanted to.”

And that was it.  

Every day when he stepped out of his house, the car was parked up and waiting for him. And every day, the music was too loud, she talked too fast, too much and drove the Range Rover like she'd stolen it. 

Every day he threatened to fire her. And every day Pepper Potts told him to get his head out of his ass.

A week into his enforced new staff member’s tenure, he text her. 

Corner of Grattan and Bogart. Don’t be late.

Sam was in Washington heading north and had suggested meeting him part way. He picked up two coffees and waited for her, his baseball cap pulled low. 

He wasn’t scrolling his phone. 

He wasn’t really doing anything.

Just sitting. 

Waiting.

When he heard the low purr of the Range Rover pulling up, he stood. One coffee in each hand. She rolled down the window.

“You know it's Saturday?”

“What, no dramatic music this time?” he asked.

“It's soul Saturday, I thought I'd wait for you.” she grinned. “You want in or are you just here to judge my taste again?”

He climbed in and handed her the drink without saying anything.

She looked at it. Then at him.

“…You got my order right,” she said, half-suspicious. “How?”

“You’ve ordered it three times already this week,” he shrugged, like it was no big deal. “I have ears.”

She looked down at the cup. Her name was scribbled across the side. In his handwriting.

She smiled softly. 

Bucky stared straight ahead, pretending to study the road. She pulled away from the curb without saying another word, but the silence between them this time wasn’t uncomfortable.

It was familiar.

“So, where to?”

“Jersey, gonna collect my bike from the shop and meet Sam.”

“So this is a one way trip? And you couldn't just… jump on the train?”

“Potts said no.”

“Oh, and you always do as you're told,” she scoffed. 

“Occasionally, when it suits.”

She yawned into her coffee and fell silent again. “I mean, I probably wouldn't cross Pepper either.” She admitted after a while, before treating him to her singing once more. 

~~~~

Days later, with the sun dipped low enough to cast a golden wash across the buildings, traffic was thick, and for once she wasn’t weaving like a maniac. 

The music was low, piano versions of recognisable songs. Bucky had his eyes closed, head tilted slightly back against the seat. He wasn’t asleep.

He never really let himself sleep while he was on the move.

“Rough day?” She asked softly. 

He didn't answer right away. 

“It’s always a rough day.”

“You still showed up. That counts for something.”

He opened his eyes and glanced at her in the mirror.  

“I’m bored,” she said suddenly. 

He arched an eyebrow. 

“Then maybe pay attention to the road,” he muttered.

“I am paying attention. I’m also multitasking.”

He exhaled through his nose. A smirk, barely there.

“You want to pick the next song?” she asked casually.

He frowned. “What?”

“Music. You know? You can be DJ.”

“I don’t… I don’t really know what I like.”

She blinked. “You don’t like music?”

“I didn’t say that.” He looked out the window again. “I just haven’t had a lot of… say. In what I hear.”

There was something in his voice, flat, but not dismissive. It suggested years of noise he hadn’t chosen. 

Propaganda. Orders. Guns. Screams. Silence.

She swallowed, nodding slowly.

“Well,” she said after a second. “Let’s fix that.”

She handed him her phone, unlocked and open to her music app. “Pick anything. Go on.”

He held it like it might bite him.

“Not gonna lie to you,” he said dryly. “This feels like a trap.”

She laughed, not mocking, just easy and warm. “Worst case scenario, you pick something awful and I throw us into oncoming traffic.”

“Fair. What classes as awful?”

“Let's find out, shall we?” She wiggled her eyebrows. 

He scrolled hesitantly, his thumb moving slowly, like he was trying not to break anything.

Finally, he tapped something.

A slow, smoky jazz guitar slid through the speakers. She looked at him in surprise. “You just… picked that out of nowhere?”

“I didn’t just pick it.” He didn’t look at her. “I have been trying to adjust for the last few years. Sam's thrown a few suggestions my way.”

They drove in comfortable silence for a while. 

“…Not bad,” she murmured eventually.

His mouth quirked, just barely. “Yeah.”

She stopped the car outside his house.

“Get some rest, Congressman. You look like you need it.”

“Thanks, so I look like shit?”

She laughed sharply. “Yeah, right. As if. Look, it may not feel like it, but you’re making a difference.” 

“You think so?” 

“I know so.” 

He nodded tiredly and stepped out of the car. 

At the top of the steps, he turned, noting that she always waited for him to go inside before she left. 

It didn't stop him from checking that she was still there. 

~~~~

The events, meetings, townhalls, meet and greets were beginning to blur.

He stepped out of the building, tie loosened, shoulders tight. The black Range Rover was already parked across the street, perfectly aligned in a no-standing zone, hazard lights blinking innocently.

She leaned casually against the side of the car, sunglasses perched on her head, sipping an iced coffee with more espresso shots than he dared think about. 

“You’re early,” he grunted as he slid into the backseat.

“I’m always early,” she said brightly, climbing into the driver’s seat. “What, you just think I appear like magic?”

He didn’t respond, but she caught the faint twitch of his mouth in the mirror. 

Close enough to a smile.

As she pulled into traffic, he noticed they weren’t heading in the usual direction. “You missed the turn.”

“Not going home yet. I’ve got one more stop and then I have instructions to take you to Pepper.”

His jaw tightened. “You have another pickup?”

“Yup.”

“Oh,” he said, trying and failing to sound unaffected. “Didn’t realise you chauffeured other people.”

“Although you're technically my only client, and the most dramatic, I'm doing her a favour,” she said, clearly amused. 

He didn’t answer. 

Just sat there, seething quietly at the idea of her smiling and chatting with someone else the way she did with him. 

Someone younger. Cooler. 

Probably not traumatised and 100 years out of place.

The Range Rover coasted to a stop in front of a sleek private school entrance. She unbuckled her seatbelt and twisted to glance at him. 

“Back in five. Try not to melt in the leather.”

He grunted, but watched her go.

It wasn’t a man. Not even another client, not in the way he thought.

A moment later, she returned with a kid practically bouncing alongside her. The girl looked up at her with absolute adoration, and she responded with a warmth Bucky hadn’t seen before.

She walked the girl, Morgan, (it clicked a second later) back to the car and opened the rear door.

“You remember the Congressman,” she said by way of introduction.

Morgan clambered in without hesitation, sliding across the backseat until she plopped down beside him like they were old carpool buddies.

“Hi,” she said, pulling her seatbelt across. “You look less mad than last time I saw you.”

Bucky blinked. “Uhh… hi.”

She looked up at him, curious. “You still mad about her?”

He glanced toward the front, where the driver was watching them in the mirror with raised brows.

“...No,” he muttered. “She’s fine.”

“I know,” Morgan said matter-of-factly. “She makes the best lunchbox snacks. Sometimes she lets me drive in the driveway if Mom’s not home.”

“Don’t say that in front of people,” the driver said quickly, tossing her a warning glance.

Morgan narrowed her eyes. “Anyway, Mom said you were mad that she made you get a driver, and I said -”

The driver was hiding a smile now, fiddling with the GPS. “Alright, kiddo, seatbelt on?” She interrupted, “Get on with your homework, stop bothering Congressman Grumpypants.”

As they pulled away from the school, Bucky sat back. The heat of his earlier jealousy had died off, leaving him embarrassed. 

He'd been jealous of a kid. 

Not just any kid, Morgan Stark.

Morgan rolled her eyes and pulled a tablet out of her backpack, popping in earbuds and disappearing into whatever assignments awaited her.

He didn’t know what the hell was happening between him and the woman in the front seat. But it was starting to get harder to pretend he didn’t care.

At the office, Pepper Potts was exactly where he expected her to be, half-glancing at a screen floating in midair, tapping on her phone, eyes flicking up to meet his with a sharp, calm kind of clarity that always unnerved him.

“You’re early,” she said, without looking at the time. “That’s rare.”

“I wasn’t driving,” Bucky replied dryly.

That got him the faintest smirk. She waved a hand and the screen blinked away.

“She’s good,” he said, casually. Too casually.

Pepper tilted her head. “Morgan?”

“…Your driver.”

“Ah.”

He scratched his jaw, suddenly feeling defensive for even bringing it up.

“I didn’t know you were hiring clowns,” he added, trying to sound annoyed, but the words lacked his usual bite. “She talks a lot. More than Sam, and that's… a lot.”

“She does,” Pepper agreed smoothly. 

“Where’d you find her?”

“Hmm?”

“The driver.”

“Why?”

“Just curious.” He tried to sound disinterested. Neutral. 

He failed miserably.

Pepper gave him a slow, knowing look. 

“You never ask about people, Bucky. Ever.”

“She’s… unusual,” he muttered.

“Unusual how?”

“Drives like she’s in a Fast and Furious movie. Listens to the worst music I’ve ever heard. Talks too much.”

“But you’re still in one piece.”

“Barely.”

Pepper smiled. “You could’ve just said you liked her.”

His eyes flicked up. Sharp. “Didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He scowled. “This isn’t… I  just wanted to know where you found her.”

“She interned with us a few years ago. Logistics. She's smart. Too mouthy for upper management though. Too good for it, in all honesty. She freelanced security logistics for a while, specialising in VIP movement, crisis response. Tony would’ve liked her.”

Bucky blinked. “Wait, she’s trained?”

“Extensively. Don’t let the coffee cups and dancing fool you.”

He blinked again. 

It clicked. How she always had them out of tight traffic. How she knew exactly when to pull up, when to back off. How she always parked near exits without seeming to think about it.

He felt a little stupid, honestly.

Pepper watched him closely. “She knows what she’s doing. And before you ask, no, I didn’t pick her to annoy you. That's just an added bonus.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” She grinned again. 

He shifted his weight. “She ever drive for someone else?”

“Not like this. You’re the first.”

That meant more than it should’ve.

Pepper leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. “Why don’t you just ask her these things yourself?”

He looked away. Jaw tight. “Not my business.”

She smiled gently. “You’re wrong, Bucky. It is your business. She’s in your life now, whether you like it or not.”

He didn’t answer.

Pepper didn’t push.

“Go home,” she said finally, turning her attention back to her screen. “And don’t fire her. You’d regret it.”

He looked incredulous, then it dawned on him. 

“She tells me you threaten to fire her every day.” Pepper arched an eyebrow. 

“I wasn’t really going to -” he started, then stopped. “…Whatever.”

He left without saying goodnight.

~~~~

The event had gone better than he’d expected.

A few speeches. Awkward handshakes. 

But people had listened. Some had nodded. A few had smiled. He could handle that.

It was easier when they wanted to be there to listen to him. He found it much harder convincing people who'd already made up their minds to dislike him. 

What he couldn’t handle was the crowd waiting outside.

Photographers. Reporters. Bright flashes already popping the second the door opened.

His chest tightened immediately. He knew this feeling, It started in his hands - both of them. 

Tight, twitchy, like even the coils and springs in his metal arm were tightening.

Then his jaw, clenching so hard his teeth ached. He froze in the doorway, half in shadow, half in the spotlight.

Too many faces. Too many voices, all shouting his name.

Winter Soldier!

Congressman Barnes!

Are the rumors true? Are you stepping down?

Smile for us, sweetheart!

That was a new one - they didn't usually call him sweetheart. He realised why. 

That last one wasn’t even aimed at him, it was aimed at her. Parting the boisterous group like the red sea. Appearing before him, still and quiet. 

And somehow, that broke the spell.

Before the tension could boil over, before he could even think about turning around and bolting, she stepped forward. Like it was nothing.

She slid into the space beside him, hand lightly brushing his arm, not grabbing, not controlling. Just grounding.

“You ok?” she murmured, almost under her breath. 

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t flinch either.

“Sorry folks,” she called sweetly. “Congressman Barnes is late for a call with Captain America himself. No time for pictures.”

Someone tried to shout over her. She cut them off without raising her voice.

“And no further questions,” she glared. 

He didn’t say a word until they were both back inside the car, the Range Rover felt like a little island of peace in the chaos.

She didn’t turn the music on. Didn’t start the car. Just looked at him.

“Better?”

He nodded stiffly, trying to force his pulse back under control.

“…Thanks,” he muttered eventually.

“Any time. I'm calling Pepper, you need real security. This is getting ridiculous.”

“It's fine, I'm fine.” He insisted. 

“No.” she said forcefully through gritted teeth once they were on the road. She sounded angrier than he'd ever heard her. “No. You don’t have to be bulletproof all the time.”  

He didn't say anything, but he felt the comment land, however off-the-cuff she made it sound. 

“And you actually do need to call Sam back,” she sighed. “That wasn't a lie. Any objections if I get us a little sugar rush?” 

She was in the drive-thru for doughnuts before he could reach for his phone. 

~~~~

She was unusually quiet when she picked him up the following day.

No radio. No singing. No bouncing in the seat. 

Just a distracted hum of energy, like her thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

He climbed into the back as usual and settled in. 

She fumbled slightly with the steering wheel, then sat still for a moment too long before starting the engine.

She didn’t even check the rearview to throw a quip his way. Something was off.

She drove in silence for about ten blocks before he spoke.

“...You good?”

She blinked. Glanced at him in the mirror. “Me? Yeah. Why?”

“You haven’t said a single annoying thing today.”

That made her snort, but there wasn’t much force behind it. “Wow. That worried you?”

He shrugged, looking back down at the folder in his lap. “Not really. Just weird when things are quiet.”

She didn’t answer. They drove another block. Then he cleared his throat.

“I, uhh, got something,” he said awkwardly, reaching into his jacket. “For the… silence.”

He handed her a small, beat-up flash drive.

She frowned. “What’s this?”

“I made you a playlist.”

She blinked, stopped the car at the red light and fully turned to look at him. “You… what?”

“Songs you’ve played. Stuff I caught. Things you like. That dance crap. Some other stuff too.”

“…You made me a mix?”

He shifted, looking suddenly very interested in the pattern of stitching on the car door. “Don’t make it weird.”

She stared at the flash drive like it might spontaneously combust. 

The car behind them honked, making her jump. She eased the car into gear and set back off, then carefully, slotted the drive into the dash and started skipping through the tracks.

The car filled with familiar sounds. Her favourites, blended with a few odd choices that had to be his. 

Jazz. Old-school rock. One or two that made her laugh. The Supremes, show tunes, K-Pop…

“I can’t believe you did this,” she murmured.

“Don’t make it a thing.”

“It’s definitely a thing,” she whispered, half-dazed.

And for a few miles, she forgot to drive like a maniac. Forgot whatever had been bothering her. 

He kept seeing her in the mirror, like she was waiting for him to say something disdainful.

But he didn't. He didn’t look smug. He looked quietly proud. Like it had been worth the effort, just to see her stunned into silence for once.

By the time they reached his next appointment, she was singing along again. 

~~~~

The evening events were the worst. The events where spouses attended and made him look painfully single. 

His driver had delivered him home, shoved a Prada suit bag into his hand and told him she'd wait outside. 

“You could just wait in there,” he waved vaguely toward the front door. 

“Ha! No, god no that's weird. I'll be here.” She shooed him into the house, “go on, hurry up, you have thirty minutes.”

Forty minutes later he was battling with his bow tie.

“Up and then under,” Sam said, his voice muffled by his hands covering his face. “No that bit goes round -”

“Round where?” Bucky turned to where he'd leaned the phone so Sam could see. 

“Man, please go and get in that damn car. Your driver will tie it for you.”

“I need to learn…”

“You don't have time, you gotta get movin’. I'll send you a YouTube video later.”

“YouTube? C'mon, man -”

“Buck, so help me I will kill you if you don't get in that car. If Pepper gets on to me ‘cause you're late, I will throw you under that bus.”

“Yeah, yeah, love you too buddy.”

The faint beep of the handset let him know that Sam had hung up. By the time he made it outside, she was pacing by the car. 

“Jeez, thought you'd gotten lost! What took you so long? Pepper is blowing up my phone,” she wheeled on him, scowling, but stopped immediately on sight. 

“You any good with a bow tie?” 

She stepped closer and took it from him. Her hands fluttered nervously but she looped the tie around his neck and used it to drag him a little closer to her height.

“You ok?” He asked. “You were about ready to kill me but you stopped?”

“Fine, totally fine.” She tied the knot carefully and tucked the band under his collar. She stepped back after tying the knot, brushing her fingertips along the edge of his collar like she couldn’t quite stop herself. 

He caught the way her hands hovered for a second too long, like she’d forgotten what they were supposed to do.

“There,” she said, voice a little quieter than before. “You’ll do.”

He didn’t move. Just watched her. Her eyes flicked to the side like she was desperate to be anywhere else.  

“What?” she asked.

“I told you, you were scowling. Then I walked out, and you just… stopped. Like you forgot to be mad.”

She rolled her eyes, but her voice was softer now. “You're being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” he asked, stepping just a little closer. 

Her breath hitched, just barely, but he heard it.

“Are you worried?” He asked. “About Pepper being mad?”

“No, of course not.”

“You don't have to be.”

“I'm not.” She looked up at him then, and there was something in her expression he couldn’t place. He squinted at her.

“Then what?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Instead, she turned on her heel and yanked open the car door. 

“Bucky, just… just get in before Pepper has both our heads.”

The silence that filled the car was different this time. Not the usual, comfortable quiet they’d eased into over the last few weeks. 

This was charged. 

He didn’t say anything. He wasn't sure he trusted himself.  

When she finally pulled up to the event, she shifted into park and twisted to look at him.

He leaned forward instinctively.

Her eyes dropped to his lips for a split second.

“You never call me Bucky,” he said, voice low.

“I didn’t mean to,” she said, just above a whisper. “It just… slipped.”

“Yeah?” 

She didn’t reply, she stayed frozen, eyes on his, like something might snap between them if either of them breathed too hard.

And then…

The rear door opened abruptly, and a polite young valet with the worst timing beamed in at him.

“Mr. Barnes, we’re ready for you inside.”

Bucky stared straight ahead, past the driver, jaw clenched. A breath passed before he looked back at her. She hadn't moved. 

“Enjoy the party,” she said, neutralising her expression and making her voice light and even.

He stepped out of the car, bow tie neat, posture perfect. But his hands were still shaking.

He hated these kinds of parties on a good day. There were always too many people pretending not to be watching him. 

But tonight was worse. He couldn’t stop replaying that moment in the car. The way she’d looked at him. The quiet inhale. The feel of her fingers at his collar.  

He was halfway through a conversation with some city councilman when he realised he hadn’t heard a word of it.

“Earth to Barnes.”

He turned to find Pepper raising a perfectly groomed brow, two champagne flutes in hand.

“You’re a million miles away,” she said, handing him one. “Did I miss a memo?”

He cleared his throat and took the drink. “Just... tired.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, clearly not buying it. 

Her eyes flicked toward the entrance. “Your driver peeled out of here like someone was chasing her… know anything about that?”

His grip on the flute tightened so hard he could hear the faintest crack. He downed the contents quickly and placed it on the tray of a passing waiter.

“I think there's a tiny crack in that glass,” he told them before turning back to Pepper. “She did?”

“She did,” Pepper said dryly. “I hope you're not upsetting her.”

He didn’t answer.

PART 2

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted, Chapter 1: Unarmed, Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: (For this part only) Following the events of CA:CW, Tony Stark has offered Steve Rogers an olive branch of sorts to bring The Avengers back together. You, CTO of Stark Industries and head of Innovation & Technology for the Avengers' Initiative, have your doubts, as you're not quite ready to forgive Captain America for ripping your family apart just yet. Steve had one condition, however, when agreeing to return to the team, one that's going to turn your life upside down and inside out: If he's coming back to join The Avengers, he's bringing his best friend, Bucky Barnes, with him.

Warnings: (For this part only) Language (obviously), minor mention of alcohol, I'm obviously on Team Tony during the CW; don't come for me, awful jokes, minor use of (Y/N). As always, if I missed any, please let me know.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Here's a little preview of Unwanted. In it's current form, it's standing at about 50k words, with about 25k still in editing, and I'm maybe about half done with writing the entire thing? I'm not going to lie, it starts out cute and fluffy, but it's gonna get real angsty and painful. Dear Reader has unresolved emotional trauma and Bucky doesn't understand the importance of boundaries in 21st century relationships. This piece has been my baby for several months now; I really hope ya'll enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it! Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you'd like to be added!) @blackhawkfanatic

"You're sure you're cool with this, Boss?" you asked Tony Stark, for what was probably the ten thousandth time in the last hour. The two of you were sitting by yourselves off in a corner of the common area of the Avengers Tower while the rest of your team congregated around the bar, eagerly anticipating the official return of Captain America to the Avengers. That, by itself, would be enough to warrant a gathering of Earth's mightiest heroes, but what had everyone in attendance talking was the fact that Steve Rogers wouldn't be returning alone.

Your billionaire employer sighed and swirled his glass of Laphroaig, the amber liquid sloshing along the sides of the tumbler. "I don't love it, Pocket, but it was Cap's only condition for coming back into the fold, and since Barton, Wilson, and Maximoff all went off the reservation with him, it seemed a small price to pay to get everyone back under one roof." He took a swig of his whiskey and smacked his lips.

You couldn't help but smile at his use of your nickname. Thor had inadvertently given it to you when you first met the God of Thunder years ago, remarking for everyone to hear that you were so small and tiny, he could tuck you into his pocket and abscond away with you to Asgard. Somehow, it stuck. You'd hated it at first; it had felt dismissive and condescending, which of course meant that it soon became the only thing the members of your team called you, but the more they used in their daily lives, the more you actually came to love it. It was a brand new, unique identity that came to embody the person you’d become, and the past you’d worked so hard to put behind you. You were more likely to answer to 'Pocket,' now, than you were your legal name, and you were grateful for it.

"Besides," Tony continued with a shrug, "if letting the Barnes thing go means we get the band back together, I'm willing to be the bigger person about it."

You stared at him, impressed. "Well look at you. When did you get so emotionally evolved?"

"Since Pepper told me I needed to start seeing a therapist or she’d leave me once and for all," he admitted to you with a cheeky wink; you both knew that, though Tony drove his partner, Pepper Potts, absolutely insane sometimes, she loved him far too much to ever walk away from him for good. That didn’t stop the threats, though. Lord knows he tried her patience. In your opinion, the woman was a saint.

Your eyes widened at the revelation and you let out a low whistle of appreciation. "You're going to therapy? Wow. Tony, That's amazing. I'm proud of you."

"Oh please," Tony scoffed, "I have much more important things to do than sit on a couch and spill my feelings. Besides, my secrets are too valuable to divulge to an actual human being. I just trained FRIDAY on therapeutic conversational datasets so she can handle all that psychological mumbo jumbo and then I paired that with BARF's augmented reality-- it's seriously the platinum standard in mental healthcare. No awkward silences or judgmental stares, just pure efficiency. You should try it; it’d do you wonders. And the best part? No copays."

You chuckled as you took a sip of your pineapple and Malibu. "Yeah, okay. That completely tracks for you," you told him with a smile. "So, what did Dr. FRIDAY tell you that got you to change your mind about the Barnes situation?"

Furrows appeared between Tony's eyebrows as he took another sip of whiskey to buy time for collecting his thoughts. There was still so much pain in him where Bucky Barnes was concerned. You'd worked for him in some capacity for nearly fifteen years and you'd never seen him as defeated as he'd been when he got off that Quinjet from Siberia. He'd been bloodied, battered and utterly broken, body and soul. Seeing him like that had shattered you, and you never wanted to live through something like that again.

Tony ran you through his experience with his therapeutic innovation, and you had to admit, it was impressive. The system had helped him realize that Bucky Barnes wasn't responsible for the heinous crimes Hydra had brainwashed him into completing, and so his anger over the death of his parents, while justified, had been misdirected.

"Once I processed that, it was a quick jump to realizing we can't be the best version of the Avengers if we only have half the team at home, and it's innocent people who would pay the price for it. So, when I reached out to Cap and he agreed to come back if I agreed to let him bring Barnes with him, well..." Tony trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his hand toward the where the rest of the team was waiting.

"So, you and Rogers are just, what? Good then? All water under the bridge?" you asked him, mild irritation clouding your voice.

"Oh, absolutely not." Tony took another sip of whiskey. "I can work with him again, and I'm glad to, but we're not going to be braiding each other's hair anytime soon."

"Good," you said, raising your glass in a mock toast to Tony. "I'm not quite ready to forgive him on your behalf just yet." Tony had essentially saved your life when you first met him, and he’d continued to support and guide your career to heights you could have never imagined. You'd started as a systems analyst and mechanical engineer at Stark Industries fresh out of college, and under Tony’s mentorship, it wasn’t long before you found yourself rising to the position of the company’s Chief Technical Officer, second in command only to Pepper, now that Tony had passed on the reins to her. All this happened long before he'd ever brought you in to work with him on the Avengers Initiative, and now you spent the majority of your time heading up their Technology and Innovation Department, as well.

Any kind of healthy respect you might have had for your boss had died out a long, long time ago, because Tony Stark  was Tony Stark, but now he was just Tony-- more like an annoying older brother you loved dearly,  whose name just happened to be on your paychecks. You owed him everything and that had earned him your unwavering loyalty. You'd follow him to hell and back again if he asked it of you, though he knew he’d never have to; you’d be paving the path there right alongside him.

The sound of laughter made its way across to you from the other side of the room and you felt warmth at the sound-- everyone, together again and happy. Just a few short months ago, you never would have been able to imagine the scene before you, not after the fight in Berlin and its brutal aftermath. You had thought for sure that this little family you'd found yourself in the middle of had been destroyed beyond repair.

So, you might have had your own reasons to be pissed at Steve Rogers.

"What's Barnes like?" you asked Tony. Having only ever glimpsed him from a distance, or from behind a computer monitor, you'd utilized all the resources at your disposal to dig up as much information on the Winter Soldier as possible, but even your skills hadn't been able to get you what simply didn't exist. "You know I don't like unknown quantities."

Tony seemed to think for a moment. "You mean, aside from being a brainwashed, murderous assassin?"

"Tony," you chastised. You knew that Barnes had spent a good deal of time in Wakanda before coming home to New York, working on having the words that triggered his homicidal alter-ego neutralized. Rogers may not always acted rationally when it came to making decisions about his oldest friend, but you were sure he wouldn’t be bringing Barnes back to the Tower if he posed a serious danger to the rest of you. Right?

"Fine," Tony said, with a typical exaggerated sigh. "Aside from being a former brainwashed, murderous assassin; better?" You rolled your eyes but nodded. "Don't really know, didn't care enough to ask. I'll be happy as long as he doesn't start murdering us all in our sleep. Cap vouches for him, so that counts for something. Maybe not as much as it did once upon a time, but something. But T’Challa seems to think he’s harmless enough now, so that’s good enough for me."

You nodded, taking another sip of your pineapple and Malibu, then leaned back, pensive. "Oh, God," you said after a moment of thought, sitting up in alarm. "You don't think it’s going to be like having an entire extra Rogers around, do you? All '40s morality and emotional repression? Because I am so over having him police my language." It wasn't that you had anything against Captain America as an Avenger, but there was only so much of the Boy Scout act you could take before you started getting nauseous. And okay, fine, you weren't too proud to admit it-- there was a not-so-small part of you that still hadn't forgiven him for what you saw as his blatant betrayal of Tony when he refused to sign the Accords. You'd promised to play nice, though, for the sake of your family, but your personal relationship with The Star-Spangled Man had taken heavy damage since Berlin.

Tony chuckled. "As if you'd ever let Cap's presence keep you from a good profanity. I should put out a swear jar. We could fund that crisis algorithm project of yours off your mouth alone."

"Fuck you, Tony," you uttered with a chuckle, fully aware that he had your number. You never met a four-letter word you didn’t fall immediately in love with.

"And look at that," Tony said with a smirk, "I just made another dollar. Hey FRIDAY, open up a new savings account and deposit a dollar into every time Pocket has a potty mouth."

"On it, Boss," the AI replied cheerfully.

You swore at Tony a few more times for good measure. "I fully intend to financially bleed you dry now, asshole."

"Oh no, I'm shaking in my custom Tom Ford's," Tony mockingly bemoaned, putting his feet, enclosed in the aforementioned ridiculously expensive loafers, up on the coffee table.

Raised voices from the other side of the room caught your attention. You stood up and craned your neck, trying to see what had caused the commotion. "I think they're here, Boss," you said.

"Alright," Tony said, standing up and putting an arm around your shoulder, "big smiles, kiddo. Remember, we're supposed to be happy about this." You suppressed a chuckle as you watched Rogers present Bucky Barnes to the rest of the team. Everyone was welcoming; you wouldn’t have expected any less, but as you watched their body language, the only word that came to mind was guarded. And you completely understood; The Winter Soldier’s reputation had preceded him, after all. There were hugs for Rogers, of course, but no one made any attempt to reach out to his friend.

Despite your overall annoyance with Rogers, you couldn't help but feel some degree of happiness for the giant oaf. When you'd been assigned on a mission with him (which happened fairly frequently, as he was so pathetically abysmal with anything having to do with technology) and ended up having to hole up in a safehouse for an extra couple of days while waiting for extraction, he'd started opening up to you about James Buchanan Barnes, and the reminiscing had made him so happy, you encouraged Steve to tell you everything about this Bucky. After that, the trouble was getting Rogers to stop telling his Bucky stories. If he wasn't sharing tales about growing up with his best friend during the Great Depression and all the absolute mischief they got into, he was sharing war stories of their time together with the Howling Commandos. He'd even shared his grief with you– how painful it had been to watch Barnes fall from that train and the guilt he carried for not being able to save him. He’d confessed to you once that, when he went into the ice, fully prepared to die, there was a part of him that was relieved to be reunited with Barnes in the next life, and waking up some 70 years later to a world where he was still alive but Bucky was still gone had broken his heart all over again. And yet, here they were– together in the next life, after all. If you were a different kind of person, you’d say it was a goddamn miracle. 

Because of the way Rogers described his best friend in those old stories, you were expecting Bucky Barnes to come swaggering along next to him, with a cocksure tilt to his head and a panty-dropping smirk playing along his lips, but the man who accompanied Steve was the furthest thing from that.

He shuffled behind Rogers slowly, looking at the floor and avoiding making eye contact with anyone else from the team. His hair hung long and limp, curtaining off his face as though it were a protective barrier. Though, if it was keeping him away from everyone else, or everyone else away from him, you couldn't be sure. He was much thinner than you'd anticipated, especially for a super soldier– though still extremely muscular, giving you the impression that it had been a long time since he'd let himself indulge in anything more than the bare minimum amount of calories he needed for survival. Tilting your head, you tried to steal a glance at his infamous metal arm, the thing of legends that had turned him from a run-of-the-mill assassin into the stuff of waking nightmares.

But the sleeve of his jacket hung limp, only empty space where the appendage should have been.

Curious. He'd come to Tony Stark's home unarmed. Your hand flew to your mouth to try and stop the uncontrollable snicker that broke loose at your own stupid joke. Tony elbowed you gently in the ribs to shut you up, and you hoped you were too far away and the others too distracted by Steve's introductions to notice you, but that thought flew right out the window when Bucky Barnes' head snapped up at the sound, his eyes locking onto yours from across the room.

"Holy shit," you breathed, knowing another dollar would go into Tony's digital swear jar, but damn if the man didn't have the most striking blue eyes you had ever seen. There were dark circles under them, and he looked incredibly tired, yeah, but they were beautiful. You didn't mean to stare, but you found you couldn't look away, either, and so the two of you were locked into some sort of impromptu staring contest. The longer you looked at him, the more you could sense an overwhelming sadness coming from him, as well as a level of wariness at being in a room full of strangers. It was almost overwhelming.

But then, just as suddenly as it began, the spell was broken. Blinking once, Bucky looked away and you felt the tension vanish from between you.

"What was that about?" Tony asked you in a low singsong voice.

"I have no idea," you answered, honestly. There had been so much pain and loneliness in his eyes. You'd seen eyes like that before, when you were younger and looked at your own reflection in the mirror following a scalding shower with your skin scrubbed raw and bloody. You suppressed a shiver.

Finally, Steve managed to disengage himself and Bucky from the other Avengers and began making his way toward you and Tony. Up close, you were struck by how tall Bucky was. He had to be at least a foot taller than you, if not more. And God, he was handsome. Granted, in a kind of heroin-chic sort of way, but still. A couple of good nights' sleep, a few good meals, some light personal grooming, and... well, there was a very good chance you were going to be in trouble once he got his shit together, that was for sure.

"And Buck," Steve was saying, drawing you out of your ogling, "This is our resident computer genius, Pocket (Y/L/N). You ever need help with anything technology-related, she's your girl."

"A bit of an over-simplified version, Rogers," you said, sticking your hand out to shake Bucky’s, "but yeah, that about covers it."

Bucky looked at you, then down at your hand, making no move to take it.

"What the hell kind of name is Pocket?" he asked, voice rough as though he hadn’t been using it a lot. Pulling your hand back, you shot him an annoyed glare.

"I don't know," you oozed back sarcastically. "What the hell kind of name is Bucky?"

"It's his nickname, Pocket," Steve supplied helpfully, though not without a trace of confusion. You gave him an annoyed, pointed look.

"No shit, Rogers." You turned back to Bucky and spoke slowly, as if to a child. "So, what do you think Pocket is, then?"

"Oh," said Bucky, catching on. The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. "Gotcha; m'sorry about that. My manners are rusty from a severe lack of use."

You didn't mean it, but your mouth curved up into a hint of a smile, too. And then, almost as if you couldn't stop yourself from doing it, you found yourself saying "I see you've arrived unarmed."

There was a long, heavy beat of silence as Steve and Tony stared at you, mouths slightly agape, and you wondered if you'd made a critical error. You were just about to punch yourself in the face and claim you had a concussion and therefore couldn't be held responsible for what you said when Bucky burst into laughter.

It was the most beautiful sound you'd ever heard, and it was contagious. Through your own laughter, you risked a glance up at Steve. He was looking back and forth between you and Bucky, an indiscernible look in his eyes, and you couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since he'd heard his best friend laugh. Hell, you wondered how long it had been since Bucky Barnes had laughed at all.

"Pocket," Tony groaned, palming his face, "that was truly terrible, even for you."

"I'm sorry," you said, trying to catch your breath through your burst of giggles. "It just slipped out-- I couldn’t help it. You know once these things come into my head, they just bounce around in there until they fall out. I didn't mean it."

Steve smiled at you. "So that's what you were snickering at," he said, amused. Damn that enhanced super soldier hearing. Rogers didn't need to be so nosy with it.

You shrugged. "What can I say? Bad jokes are my superpower. Don't be jealous that all you got was super strength and a six pack, Rogers."

Bucky laughed again, then nudged Steve playfully with his elbow. "I like this one, Stevie," he said. "She's funny."

You weren't sure why, exactly, but something in Bucky's words turned your insides into a warm puddle of goo.

Oh, you were going to be in trouble, indeed.

Next Part ->

[mirrorball-leclerc]

paint the town red - part eleven

YOU AND ME WE'D BE A BIG CONVERSATION

series masterlist

SUMMER BREAK 2024

tony stark i expect every single one of you at the lake house for the next few weeks.

bianca stark-potts i can't. sorry dad. tony stark you can't? what do you mean you can't? you don't have work for the next few weeks. bianca stark-potts i have plans

tony stark WITH FUCKING WHO?

bianca stark-potts with my boyfriend

may parker oh how exciting! where are you going?

bianca stark-potts i'm not saying because my dad will literally track me down.

pepper potts have fun

james rhodes use protection!

harley keener and that is the sound of tony fainting. peter parker and that other sound was tony's unholy screeching.

biancastark_potts and charles_leclerc have posted new stories

amore mio (my love)

something about her looking at the view but i'm looking at her

liked by harryosborn, charles_leclerc, katebishop and others

biancastark_potts ¿qué horas son, mi corazón?

comments have been restricted by user

katebishop someone tell the winch to be gone!

samwilson WHO IS HE STARK-POTTS?

peterbparker listen, i'm not saying the old man is spiraling but the old man is spiraling

↳ biancastark_potts oh i know he is, harley is sending me a hour by hour update on him. happy is also complaining.

lilymhe it's 5:39 pm in new york!

↳ biancastark-potts thank you corazón!

yelenabelova i love knowing something stark doesn't.

tonystark WHERE ARE YOU?!

↳ biancastark_potts here, there, everywhere.

↳ tonystark THAT'S NOT AN ANSWER!

steverogers bianca, why is your father trying to track you down at the tower?

↳ biancastark_potts i'm on vacation and he wants to know where i am.

↳ tonystark SHE'S WITH A BOY STEVEN! A BOY!

↳ steverogers she's a fully grown woman anthony. not everyone is harry.

america_chavez the wicked witch of the west is here? someone tell him to fuck off

wandamaximoff having fun?

↳ biancastark_potts yeah

↳ wandamaximoff good. if someone breaks into his apartment, it wasn't us.

↳ biancastark_potts he says it's all good. it's finally clean.

joaquintorres nice apartment, it's not yours.

↳ biancastark_potts shut your trap torres.

↳ joaquintorres TELL ME WHO IT IS!!!

do you have time to talk soon?

i'm out of the country and if i was in the country, the answer would still be no.

we have nothing to talk about.

don't be like that b, i still love you.

this is exhausting. we are never ever getting back together. like ever.

did you just fucking reply with taylor swift lyrics?

i did.

and i have a boyfriend so please leave me alone.

biancastark_potts and charles_leclerc have posted new stories

told him the last one only gave me flowers on anniversaries and he said, "that is not acceptable. you should be given flowers all the time, for no reason."

🎾🎾

kate bishop where's my monegasque man to sweep me off my feet and buy me flowers for no reason??

yelena belova that is gross. who needs love? kate bishop we get it, you're allergic to love. yelena belova i just do not see the point in it. all i need is my dog and i am happy.

maria hill i have to say it, this one is so much better than the last one.

wanda maximoff have you told him about harry?

bianca stark-potts i did, we talked about. it in hungary, when he found out about him.

america chavez she's in looove. she's literally playing paddle with him

natasha romanoff who are you and what have you done to the bianca we all know? you hate sports

bianca stark-potts i don't like tennis or baseball. they're boring sports. i can enjoy soccer or football. but i hate participating in sports. bianca stark-potts he also told me, "i have to train somehow" and i knew andrea would be on my ass if this man didn't do some training

hope van dyne he bought you flowers? for no reason?

bianca stark-potts yup. he disappeared for like 20 minutes and when he came back he was holding a bouquet of tulips in his hand.

kate bishop again where's my monegasque man??

bianca stark-potts he has a brother?? kate bishop he doesn't seem like my type.

pepper potts i'm glad you're happy bianca.

bianca stark-potts thanks mom!!

bianca stark-potts by the way, he says hello!

bianca stark-potts and he said that if nat and wanda break into his apartment to knock, his brother is staying over because his apartment got flooded.

natasha romanoff but where's the fun in that?

bianca stark-potts "i'd rather not explain to my mum that my brother died of a heart attack because black widow and the scarlet witch broke into my apartment because i'm dating you" - silly vroom man

wanda maximoff we'll set off the home alarm on purpose as a warning.

bianca stark-potts "that works! thank you! and if my brother gets scared please send a picture of his face. i need new blackmail material." - silly vroom man

america chavez typical sibling move.

yelena belova HOW WOULD YOU KNOW?! YOU DON'T HAVE SIBLINGS?

america chavez I HAVE TO SHARE A FLOOR WITH ELI, KATE, AND THE OTHERS WHEN THEY'RE OVER! I LIVE A FLOOR BELOW PETER AND HARLEY! I KNOW THE WAY THAT SHIT WORKS!

george russell you dragged her into a paddle game??

charles leclerc i didn't drag her george.

alex albon he has to train somehow george. can't you see he's too busy wooing a stark-potts?

lando norris WHAT THE FUCK DOES HE NEED TO TRAIN FOR? HE'S LITERALLY 100 POINTS AHEAD OF US ALL?

carlos sainz wrong. he's 73 points ahead of me.

max verstappen is this what you guys felt with me last year?

pierre gasly 100% yuki tsnuoda absolutely oscar piastri totally. daniel ricciardo yes. max verstappen you only drove like 6 races?? daniel ricciardo i wanted to be included maxie!

pierre gasly he's in looove!!

charles leclerc shut up?

oscar piastri he bought her flowers. i saw the instagram story.

lando norris STAND UP CHARLES!!

george russell and i thought alex was the biggest simp. turns out it was charles.

logan sargeant oh come on, this guy had the worst year of his career last year, let him have this.

charles leclerc thank you logan!

max verstappen then tell him to stop flirting with me??

yuki tsunoda that is like asking me to stop loving food. it is impossible. carlos sainz no one will ever love anything as much as yuki loves food

tony stark hey, how y'all doin?

bianca stark-potts get off my dad's phone samuel.

tony stark WHO THE FUCK IS HE??

carlos sainz oh boy can't wait until they find out. tony stark TELL US WHAT YOU KNOW SAINZ!!

isaiah atkins oh my god, when will my nightmare end??

peter parker NEVER BITCH!!

charles leclerc you should've never taken the job then?

isaiah atkins yeah, you would like that wouldn't you? charles leclerc oh fuck you.

harley keener your girlfriend does that enough for you.

tony stark LECLERC HAS A GIRLFRIEND??

peter parker SINCE WHEN DOES LORD PERCEVAL HAVE A GIRLFRIEND??

harley keener have neither of you seen his stories?? he's been with a girl all break??

tony stark bianca come home! the children (america, mj, kate and me) miss you!

bianca stark-potts i literally hate you so much samuel.

sebastian vettel i can't wait until this exact text bites all of you in the ass

ollie bearman you're included seb. we ALL know.

tony stark know what?? what am i missing? arthur leclerc ignore him. he's in summer break mode still. ollie bearman your brother is literally a better liar than you.

NETHERLANDS 2024

scuderiaferrari posted new stories

WE'RE BACK PEOPLE!! I GOT CONTROL OF THE ACCOUNT AGAIN!! EVERYONE SAY HALLELUJAH!!

SPOTTED: lightning mcqueen with mater

SPOTTED: spongebob and patrick, i'll let you decide who's who.

enjoy this picture of tony because he pissed me off.

series taglist: @burningcupcakefire @spilled-coffee-cup @evans-dejong @elliegrey2803 @bingewatche @arkhammaid @sunflower-golden-vol6 @lorarri @ironspdy @mypage-myfandoms @be-your-coffee-pot @celesteblack08 @vellicora @enchantedthoughts @stopeatread @hobiismyhopeu @lilsiz @alessioayla @niniluvsainz @au-ghosttype @six-call @embrosegraves @justtprachisblog @bionic-donut @nichmeddar @landonorizzz @unluckyyoshi @jamie-selwyn @cool-ultra-nerd @kami10471633 @int3rnetgf @fernandoswarcrimes @skynel09 @arieltwvdtohamflash @brekkers-whore @camdensreg @mycenterfold @dear-fifi @chiliwhore @nothaqks @nataliambc @jensonsonlybutton @octopussesarecool @vroomvroommuppett @ragioniera @iamapersonwholikesunicorns @sargeantdumbass @namgification @mgmoore @moonyzsworld @loloekie

strikethrough means i couldn't tag you

click here to be added to the paint the town red taglist

¡leclerc-s speaks! this one's a little short, but i swear the next one will be longer. it lowkey sucks too but oh well, the next one will be better, also this serves as a reminder that yelena is canonically aroace!!!!

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[tarithenurse]

Handle with care - 2

Fandom: MCU. Pairing/starring: Eventually Bucky x fem!reader, The Avengers, Pepper Potts, Happy Hogan, SHIELD. Word count: 1167. Content: Introductions, pining already and someone realizes. A/N: This will be a small series. Let me know what you think and please reblog – it’s fuel for more! There’s a taglist too so send and ASK if you want on it.

2.

It’s the same girl in the reception as yesterday, smiling friendly and asking you once more to take a seat – this time to wait for the infamous Happy Hogan.

He turns out to be a slightly balding, soft man who acts a lot tougher than you think he is but you don’t test it, instead listening intently to his spiel about security, passes, and codes. Poking away on his tablet (after first having had trouble turning it on), he pulls up several files to quickly flash at you while he quizzes you on safety protocols. But eventually he relents, handing you a key card with your photo on.

“Okay, young lady,” he orders with the voice of a tired father, “I’ll show you how it works.”

Entering the smaller elevator with you, he points where to swipe your key card and then carefully pops in the code on the key pad. 2703.

“Remember it. Don’t write it down. Don’t tell it to anyone,” he imprints.

“Yes, sir.”

Smiling benevolently at the form of address, the man straightens up and pushes the floor number. Once again, the lift leaves your innards on the first floor while rocketing up to the highest levels of the Stark Tower.

Yesterday, you learned that the top three floors were private quarters for Stark and Potts. The ten beneath that are apartments for the Avengers, then comes the “play room”, as Potts had called it: the labs and tech rooms where especially Stark and Banner tinker to their hearts’ contents.

Where do you fit in? The very lowest floor that the little lift can bring you to is a sort of shared work space for any of the Avengers and Potts. Individual offices and meeting rooms laid out along with a communal gym, kitchen, and media room.

When the lift comes to a stop, you and Happy step out.

“Well, I gotta get back down there and make sure things are alright,” he huffs, seemingly mighty important.

“Thank you for the help, mister Hogan,” you smile, holding out your hand.

His is a bit clammy but the handshake is firm and somehow serves to calm your nerves a bit. If the infamous Happy Hogan doesn’t mind leaving you here then you must have done something to impress him. And if you can impress him? Well, maybe others will take kindly to you too.

Turning, you head down the hall the way he points you. Towards the kitchen. You can already smell the coffee and to be honest you could really use a cup because you hadn’t slept nearly as well as you should have – you’d been far too nervous.

Stepping into the open kitchen, you stop dead in your tracks as several people turn to regard you. Shit. They’re almost all there: Romanoff, Banner, Stark and Potts, Rogers, and Barnes.

Barnes.

You’ve read about it in your romance novels, how it’s like being hit by a train. Love at first sight. You’ve always scoffed at it even if you loved gobbling it up. Now...now you’re the one standing on the train track, feeling his smile and stormy eyes bored into your soul.

“Good morning!” Stark’s clear voice cuts through your reverie, mercifully moving your attention elsewhere. “Welcome to the family!” Coming over, he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you towards the others. “Introductions first but maybe you need some coffee with that? Cream? Sugar? Doughnut?”

He is a force of nature almost, sweeping you up and making you feel at ease as you’re loaded up with a mug with the Stark logo on and shake hands with everyone. Of course he doesn’t use their real names but rather a series of nicknames that sometimes make them roll their eyes or scoff. You like it. Like the banter. But you can also sense why Potts must have her hands full just dealing with him.

The superheroes slowly begin to disperse, wishing you good luck on your first day.

---

Potts, or Pepper as she wants you to call her, has been a star, helping you getting the hang of the IT systems and introducing you to the always-present FRIDAY who is the commanding soul of the Tower and an invention of Stark’s.

You allow yourself to make it a late day, there’s plenty to get caught up on and you’re not yet navigating as fast as you’d like with the holographic screens and everything. But eventually you pack up, turn the lights off in the office and close the door behind you.

You just need to wash off your coffee cup, so you head to the kitchen first, expecting to find it empty.

Instead, Barnes is there. Oh boy, is he there: grey sweats and a black tank top that’s doing nothing at all to hide his physique or his metal arm. He has a little towel slung around his neck and his hair is almost pulled back in a bun as much as that’s possible, stray strands falling into his face anyways.

“Hi,” you try a smile.

“Hm,” he smiles back, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. “Had a good first day?”

You nod. “Lots to get used to and catch up on but yeah,” you admit.

You’ve been watching some group interviews to get a feel for the Avengers’ PR awareness and Barnes tends to be quiet if maybe a bit sullen. He lets the others talk and while it is the safe route, it also means he can come off as brutish. You will have to work with him eventually. Not now, though.

“Good to hear,” he hums, “see ya tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.”

With that he stalks off down the hall towards the gym and you just stand there like some lost fool looking after him.

“Liking what you see?” a soft voice purrs right behind you.

Turning with a squeak, you’re shocked to see Romanoff. Has she been there all the time?

“I- it’s- he just-” you babble, heart in your throat.

“Relax,” the redhead grins, “I want spill the beans.” She waltzes over and starts another brew. “Just...never seen him that talkative with strangers.”

“No?”

You suppose his silence in interviews stretches further...but you also find it hard to believe that this little conversation was the height of his communicative prowess.

“He’s plenty chatty with Rogers and me,” Romanoff admits as if having read your thoughts, “it’s just...” she shrugs.

You nod. “He has a hard time trusting,” you guess.

Knowing the man’s history, that would make sense at least. You can’t help but wonder if there’s anything you can do to make him feel more at ease, but you also don’t want to force yourself upon the poor guy.

Popping your mug in the dishwasher, you bid the former (probably actually current) spy goodnight and head to the elevator. It’s by the door to the gym and you can hear the muted clanks of weights. Then the elevator dings and you start your descend.

[under0-0s]

Petition to Declare Ms. Bea ( @crazyinlovewithmarvel ) as the World’s Best Sweetheart.

Good Greetings, This is Tony Stark. CEO of Stark Industries, genius, billionaire, and philanthropist—obviously. I’m sending this message to officially put forward a petition to declare Ms. Bea ( @crazyinlovewithmarvel ) as the World’s Best Sweetheart.

Now, I’m not just doing this for fun (though let’s be honest, I do enjoy a good petition). I’ve seen firsthand the kind of impact Ms. Bea has on everyone around her. She has this incredible way of spreading warmth and positivity wherever she goes. Whether it's through her posts or just the way she interacts with others, she makes everyone feel like they matter. Her kindness is practically a superpower, and I think the world could use a lot more of it.

On top of that, she has this magnetic charm that lights up any room. I’ve been around a lot of people—some famous, some not—but I’ve rarely come across someone who can make an entire community feel as loved and accepted as she does. She’s the type of person who lifts up others without expecting anything in return, and that’s something truly special.

Her passion for Marvel is undeniable, but what sets her apart is the way she channels that passion into spreading good vibes. It’s not just about fandom; it’s about creating a space where everyone can enjoy the things they love together, with kindness and respect. In short, Ms. Bea isn’t just a sweetheart—she’s the sweetheart.

So, consider this my official endorsement. As someone who’s seen the best and the worst of humanity, I can confidently say that Ms. Bea more than deserves this recognition. Let’s make it official, shall we?

Signed, Tony Stark CEO, Stark Industries Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist

P.S. This petition has been vetted by Jarvis—so yeah, it’s basically a done deal.

TAGS: @pepper-potts-in-charge @j-a-r-v-i-s-the-ai @multiverse-peterbparker @clintbarton-thearrowguy @its-nate-the-sharpshot @we-love-redwing @story-from-hr @proud-owner-0f-americas-ass @over-bi-the-wayside @thatone-midgardian @official-alpinebarnes @moon-x0 @loganschuchuzinho @merc-with-the-m0uth @doctorstrangywangy @official-tasha-romanoff @the-best-black-widow

______________________________________________________________

[reginaphalangelobster125]

I mainly write short one-shots and drabbles about the Marvel Cinematic Universe and Doctor Who. I will occasionally post longer fics/series and some Buffy The Vampire Slayer content. Please be warned there is swearing in some posts.

I only write in the second person i.e. You said, they looked at you.

I also have a side blog @lobster-graphics where I make moodboards and dividers, requests there are open.

My blog supports everyone in the LGBTQIA+ community. Anyone who makes hurtful comments will be blocked and can fuck all the way off.

Requests are: OPEN

Requests Guidelines:

No Smut

Nothing Illegal

No Starker (romantic)

No Thorki (romantic)

No Buffy/Giles (romantic)

No Doctor/Donna (romantic)

Platonic or Romantic

Poly ships are workable but I'm not sure how good I'll be at writing them, I've only done one so far (that I posted)

Please be respectful when sending an ask/request

Anons welcome

Request/asks can be sent with a song, trope, prompt, full explanation or just character names

Age gaps are fine just as long as they are both over 18

All fics/drabbles will be x reader

Female or gender neutral reader only

AUs:

I'm not really into AUs unless it reverses a characters death

I'd love to hear your different ideas in asks/requests but there are a few I'm not going to write for:

Omegaverse

Soulmate AU

Anything where the characters aren't superheroes/slayers/vampires/gods/aliens/whatever you want to call The Doctor

I prefer the characters to stay basically themselves

Tropes:

I'm definitely open to your favourite tropes but here are a few of mine (although some may just be base plots but anyways):

Wearing each other's clothes (I wrote the first of I'm sure to be multiple fics based solely on this)

Mutual pining/idiots in love (especially when another character has to step in and tell them they're in love)

Comforting after a nightmare (both or character or reader, love it all)

One of them being a in their terms "awful person" because of murder or just letting people die and the other telling them they're perfect

Some kind of spell or technology going wrong and one or both of them falling in love (more)/telling the truth about their love

Killing for each other (you know, if they have too)

Forced proximity

One bed

I truly love receiving asks/requests, they always make my day.

Please don't feel nervous or shy when sending an ask/request, everyone is welcome. If you do feel nervous or shy that's what the anonymous button is for, please use it. Please specify if you want romantic or platonic if you care either way.

Current Ask Games

Valentine's Day

Marvel Song Fic

My Masterlists

Marvel

X-Men

Doctor Who Buffy The Vampire Slayer/Angel

Characters I Will Write For:

Marvel

Natasha Romanoff

Clint Barton

Bruce Banner

Tony Stark

Steve Rogers

Thor Odinson

Loki Laufeyson/Odinson/Friggason

Stephen Strange

Scott Lang

Peter Parker

Bucky Barnes

Yelena Belova

Kate Bishop

Wanda Maximoff

Sam Wilson

Pepper Potts

X-Men

Logan Howlett

Wade Wilson

Kurt Wagner

Doctor Who

10th Doctor

11th Doctor

12th Doctor

13th Doctor (possibly)

14th Doctor

15th Doctor

Captain Jack Harkness

Missy

Buffy The Vampire Slayer/Angel

Spike

Angel

Rupert Giles

Wesley Wyndam-Price

Buffy Summers (possibly)

Willow Rosenberg (possibly)

I am open to write for other characters within these fandoms (these are just the ones I know I'm comfortable writing), just send a request/ask and I'll give it a shot!

DISCLAIMER: I have only seen most of the Marvel/X-Men TV shows and movies and I have read none of the comics, so my writing will be based off of what I know.

Taglists:

Marvel

@impetusofadream @goldfishthegr8 @avengers-official-recruit-agent @goreygirl03 @xenasolos @sparklyturtlefox @rios-sythe @nekoannie-chan @ilovemarvel12 @hayneyney @n3ponen @8812-342 @everyonesfriend @pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse @aliljaybird @justhereforthememesnangst @lonely-core @leloishere @macbaetwo @castielshunterwife @scarletluvsdanno @marcelinethe-vampire-queen @twentyonetornmyheart

X-Men

@thegirlsmorgue @1dluver13xx @beeeoop @waffle-wolf-666 @clownp33 @california-boys-and-sun @starsaroundmyscarsblog @kds1999 @everyonesfriend @pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse @karaishotgirl @aliljaybird @burningcatcollectorsblog-blog @summer200baby @hanahaki-garden @dr3adful-lust @macbaetwo @castielshunterwife @scarletluvsdanno @twentyonetornmyheart

Doctor Who

@codex-arcene @skarkkie @annie-does-art @colorfulmusicgardener @huntersroses @meryuniverse @craftytacopiecash @pinkthick @aliljaybird @charliesart16 @macbaetwo @castielshunterwife @scarletluvsdanno @gwynfahr @twentyonetornmyheart

Buffy The Vampire Slayer/Angel

@pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse @aliljaybird @thesimppotato11 @vixyl7 @macbaetwo @castielshunterwife @scarletluvsdanno @twentyonetornmyheart

Supernatural

@dianawinchester03 @pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse @aliljaybird @macbaetwo @castielshunterwife @scarletluvsdanno @twentyonetornmyheart

Everything

@pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse @aliljaybird @macbaetwo @castielshunterwife @scarletluvsdanno @twentyonetornmyheart

Please fill out this form and put your username that you want to be tagged with at the bottom. For example mine is @reginaphalangelobster125

Message me if you would like to be removed from any taglists.

Comment/like this post if you want to be tagged in everything.

[theoneandonlyjamiestark]

INTRODUCTION

Before We get started. Yes. I'm a Stark. Adopted, of course. And even though I'm not biologically related to the Starks, many people have told me I take after their ego and sassiness.

Jamie Eliana Stark She/her Trans MTF Bisexual Adopted Daughter of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts 21 years old. [Mod is a minor so NSFW DNI] Marvel RP account 5"4ft tall

I may not be a true Stark, but I surely do act like one. I get told on countless occasions that I'm "Just like your father" whenever I'm being anywhere near sassy or rude to anyone. Sarcasm is not for the faint of heart I guess. I also am not as good at building techy stuff as many others in my family, but I can hack mainframes like its nobodies business. You could say its a gift of mine. I'm also good at codes. Me and Dad (Tony) sometimes work together on projects that he needs done quickly. Its kinda fun, having a dad who can match your sarcastic energy. Being a Stark also comes with a shit ton of publicity and responsibility. Many reporters, paparazzi and other people who pry into your personal life like they need to know what direction you walked at Eleven AM on December Twenty First 2021. Its dumb if you ask me, but publicity, like fashion shows, celebrity events or galas that we're invited to? Love those. I love the attention when its not weirdly invasive. Theres one word to describe our household, and that is Chaos. With Peter running around on the walls and everyone else just being the people they are, it can get pretty busy and chaotic. Especially when some people are trying to build stuff and they blow up. The rule here, basically is just, "Don't blow anything up". And unless Mom/Pepper is home, most things fly as long as, a) no one (is, might, already) died/die/dead, b) nothing explodes, c) it wont get you arrested. At least for the older lot its like that. Rules in the lab are the ones you definetly want to follow,. The rules in the lab are the strictest. You don't want any of that tech going haywire. Trust me. I've done it only once and its probably the worst thing I've done. But anyways. Wouldn't have it any other way. Listen here okay? I may not be the absolute smartest Stark when it comes to building tech or doing stuff like my Dad does, but I'm really battle smart. I have fight training from THE Natasha Romanoff herself. I'm an incredible hand to hand fighter, and so if you cross me I wont hesitate to show you who you're dealing with without mortally wounding you. I was told the government and police will get involved if I do that.... so its probably better I don't and stay out of the authorities grasp.

You hear this? FUCK stereotypes or like norms and stuff. I will dress, style my hair, or speak however I want. Of course I wont be rascist, homophobic, transphobic (why would I hate myself?), or anything like that to ANYONE. Its shocking how anyone is like that to anyone. Anyways. If you need me, I'm always here, just throw a message in my ask box!

Dad: Tony Stark @under0-0s Mom: Pepper Potts @pepper-potts-in-charge Siblings: @serenastark-official @playgirlgenius Friends: Intern for Avengers HR Intern for : @luna-draven-barnes Feel free to send RP starters or rp ideas! Rps are always welcoem! Face Claim: Lucy Hale (Pretty little Liars) Oc Owned by: @thescarleteevee //This account is not run by a system alter btw! dividers by : @vg-k

[jackiequick]

Meet more of the family, Miss Stark & The Youngest Barnes | Marvel OC

———

Liv Stark ⌚️

Full name: Olivia Charlotte Stark-Vega

Nicknames: Liv, Vi, Lottie, Lola, Clary, Char, Charlie, Miss Vega, Snark Central

Age range: 5-18

Height: 5’1

Relationship status: Single

Background: American with Peruvian, Polish and Italian descent

Father: Anthony Stark

Godmother: Elizabeth Stark

Godfather: Jason Underwood

Brother & Sister: Rei and Morgan Stark

Step-mom: Pepper Potts

Uncles: James Rhodes, Happy Hogan & rest of The Avengers

Abilities: A bit of geek and hacker due to her love of technology, basic hand to hand combat since she enjoys boxing and her witty personality. She’s young so she hasn’t gotten plenty of skills yet.

Personality: Liv has a smart touch, gentle soul, sweet, charming and easy going. She is a bit of a bitchy girl and stubborn about everything she does. If she wants to do something, she will probably sneak out to get it done. She got a some of anxiety and a nervous twitch (which would grow over the years since Liv is afraid of being alone and in the dark about a lot of things), this creeping fear and sadness that will take over her if not careful.

- However Liv is very accident prone, she’s always getting hurt one way or another, giving everyone an heart attack since the age of 9 since she’s always been a active little girl. So in result she give Tony and something for Rei to roll his eyes about.

- From an young age, she has always been into tech, jewelry and over all. Wanting to build and grow a her own little things, she was a Stark it’s a given! She watched a lot of movies so she got creative with her ideas.

- Random fun fact, one of her favorite movies is 10 Things I Hate About You, just because she likes Kat Stratford’s aesthetic and attitude. But it’s many Action Movies and Rom-Coms that she will watch with Pepper, that she enjoyed. It’s where she gets her inspiration for things.

- She adored the idea staying in the lab, tinkering and cleaning up the inventions that were made. She practically lived in there, staying home to help and learn. It caused never want to leave that house in general, having a bit of mouth on her after hearing the adults always speak their minds (so don’t be surprised this girl start rambling and throws out whatever bullshit that appears in her thoughts), but it allowed her to be a safe within those four walls.

- It didn’t take long for her to start filling up a notebook with designs on how to incorporate technology into fine jewelry (aka The Stark Watch, necklaces to tracking and security measures, bracelets to be use for defense purposes and rings can be transformed into gauntlet). 

- She’s always been bit of business women! Wanting to create products to help people, keeping an eye on things from behind the scenes, represent and model for Stark industries and such. 

- But she was still so young, so her parents and siblings didn’t want her to grow up so soon in the spotlight of it. She’s a kid! And she understood that, it bothered her but she understood why. So she stays hoping her time could come where she can help out the group.

—> Because little did she know that theses little gadgets and gizmos that would be incorporated into the ideas her father and older brother would use as fashion purposes in the future with their own suits. Aka they’re Iron Man suits!

—> I know you may be wondering about her family life, well Liv raised well per say. She had to move around a lot as a child, especially since Tony never wanted the public attention to be on her just yet and her mother wasn’t sure that she would taken care of. It took convincing from Pepper and Jason to let her stay home with them, so everything was fine after that.

Her relationship with her father was an nice one. When it comes to parenting his kids, Tony was a rather dramatic, embarrassingly loud at times, a little cocky and stubborn parent per day, so it’s a bit difficult to get him to calm down and talk softly with him. Tony cares a lot about his children, having Rei and Liv to take care of but he was always busy with the company having to arrive home late, events he had to attend and ending up being tired.

Other than that, he tried to make time for his son and daughter, bringing them to the lab and everywhere he could. Even if he got in trouble afterwards. Tony always tries to inspire his daughter to do what she loves and experience things, be caring, make sure she was alright too and etc. But they make it work!

Ohh, did I forget to mention how annoying and protective Tony can be as a parent? He will take everything very seriously or not serious at all, acting out if something goes wrong and he tends to be questioning his motives. Even blaming himself if something bad were to happen to his family. Tell Tony Stark you have a crush? He sends JARVIS to keep an eye on you. Ask Tony for something like a new backpack for school? He buys you something else.

In his defense, he does everything with so much love (even if he doesn’t always portray it in the best way).

Her relationship with Rei however—you wouldn’t think it but rather wholesome, since she’s the little sister he never exactly wanted. They were completely opposite to one another, he’s grumpy and she’s easygoing, he rather work alone in silence and she rather work with music blasting and etc. But as much as Rei may be annoyed and want to throw his little sister out of the house, deep down he cares about her, even though he didn’t show it to her very often and he’s very protective of her ever since he was a child.

Rei and their father, always trying to keep Liv out of harms way and safe at home. Even if they tend to fail at times.

Since Tony was always busy, Rei tends to be one to look out for Liv and keep her in check, being her personal bodyguard for everything she does. If it was up to him, Rei would wrap his baby sister in bubble wrap and not let her leave the house!!

When they were kids (and even now) Liv would follow Rei wherever he went and wanting to copy him, be like her big brother because he always around the corner with something snarky to say to her and a huge potty mouth (it resulted in her having a huge attitude as well). She will always be the one to encourage Rei’s designs for suits and talk to dad about something.

He talks and she will absolutely love to listen to him (even if 85% of the time she has no idea what he’s talking, cause he’s smarter than her at a lot of things.)

Sometimes you will find Liv in a moody way shutting everyone out of her room and just curled up in a ball, similar to brother and to be honest, it concerns Rei a bit when it happens. But he would probably try to snap her out of it, even not he will let her be in her moody moments. He knows how it is

At the end of the day, no matter how different they were with one another and the paths they choose, they cared in their own way. Even if when they’re public, they act like they don’t know one another.

—> As for her relationship with the Avengers and Young Avengers! Ooof let’s stick to first impressions, shall we?

She met all of them when she just a child, joining Rei and Tony on a simple basis day with the group. She first started watching her father talking with Bruce Banner, and she took a liking to him very much seeing how nice, gentle and reserved he can be. But there an edge to him, that she found to be cool.

As for when she met Rick, it was when him and Rei were chatting. Her first impression of him, to her the young man is that he looked like a old school Disney Channel Star with a nice smile and warmth, with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

So when she saw Bruce, Rick, Rei and Tony all work together in their own separate labs blasting music so loudly..the only thing Vi said, “Oh no, there’s 4 of them!”

When she met Natasha, she just cool and rather chill per say acting like the nonsense agent with a soft side. Romanoff’s daughter on the other hand, she was just curious about her and Vi liked that.

Same thing goes for Clint and his daughter, they were just cool people. She was always amazed with the skills they had, and a part of her always knew that Clint Barton was a family man. And she was right, when they appeared at the Barton’s Barn years later.

Meira and Luna were just so relaxed, gentle and sweet girls. She adored how they acted with their teammates and siblings, especially Meira since she was a little sister just like her. Sweet and snarky.

Ethan was just super chill and suspicious of everything, Rei didn’t like him and carried Vi alway from from very quickly. Cole was just so mischievous, snarky smile and tossing jokes every day, making Vi laugh or snort. But a part of her respected him greatly, cause she heard he was VERY powerful.

Liane, well she didn’t like her right away. She annoyed Olivia very quickly and she sent painful glared toward the girl who tried to make friends with her. After a while she softened toward Ms Felton, but it took a long time cause she saw Rei didn’t like her either.

——

Daphnia Barnes-Wilson 🪫

Full name: Daphnia Ramona Wilson-Barnes 

Nicknames: Daphne, Nia, Daph, DD, Sparky, Daffy, Fifi, Birdie,

Other name while on the run: Davina, Robin

Age range: 7–20

Height: 5’7

Relationship status: Single

Parents: Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson

Background: American with Mexican and Chilean Origin

Aunt: Sarah Wilson

Uncle: Steve Rogers

Sister: Laurie Wilson

Brother: Benjamin Barnes

Abilities: Marksmanship and Acrobatics, having took some gymnastics classes. She’s also a bit of a fast learner so she’s fluent in English, Spanish, Russian, Portuguese and some French.

Personality: Gentle, a little broken due to being let down a lot in life, warm-hearted, clumsy, a bit shy and humorous at times. But if she’s anything like her fathers, she’s stubborn enough, a little self-sacrificing, and willingly to help no matter what.

- Sam and Bucky have been together for a while now, since their chemistry was a challenging one it always hard to settle down and figure out what they want. However a house, family and future for their kids was always one of them.

- They already had Laurie and Benjamin, so they thought two kids was enough as it is. But things took a small turn when they stumble at a orphanage in Brazil for a mission and met this no named little girl who gave both of them the most honest smile.

- Sam has always been one to have a big heart, so wanting a big family was always part of that. So his heart spoke before his words ever could, wanting to adopt her. Bucky Barnes on the other hand was a little hesitant—well more like worried—about the whole thing, he always wanted a little piece of normalcy and he got it with Sam and their kids. But adding a 3rd? That was a lot of responsibility, but he caved as soon as he hung out with the girl.

- To be honest, they saw a bit of themselves in her. So she was adopted when she less than 10 years old and brought into a family of oddly comforting heroes. They named gave her a name and did everything they could to make her feel comfortable. Welcomed.

—> So Davina (or Daphne) as they called her grow up with her parents and siblings. As loved as she was, she always felt alone and feared that it will all be taken away from her. Especially with the fact that her parents were heroes themselves, there was always a chance that they can end up hurt or worse, if not careful.

- But Bucky always made sure to tell her and every single one of his children, “Don’t worry, I’ll always come back home to you guys, no matter how long it takes.” And Sam would tell them, “You’re our kids, we will always love you and be there to tuck you in bed whenever we can.”

- Sometimes they would be gone for 2-3 days, maybe a week or a whole month leaving the kids in care of family and friends. Laurie was the oldest of the siblings, so they could handle themselves very well and or sneak off to join the fight ending with them in trouble. Benjamin being the second oldest, so he rather stay behind during the fight and stay with his sisters and friends.

- Speaking of fights and travel, when if plenty say battle isn’t place for children. Sometimes Sam and Bucky had no choice but to bring there kids with them to places like Wakanda, Stark Tower, France and or let’s say Germany for instance. Even though it was a hassle to bring children along for the ride, it was an interesting learning experience and a way to test out their kids

- And to be honest, Daph and her siblings enjoy it a little too much. Cracking jokes, running around, exploring different places and meeting interesting people, and creating new ideas among one another. It was a field trip for them sometimes.

-> And if your wondering, yes Daphnia is team #HateJohnWalker! When she found out, she was ready to take her baseball bat and wack his head with it, demanding the Shield back with a glare. Bucky couldn’t be more prouder of her in that moment laughing, meanwhile Sam rolled his eyes unable to believe what he heard.

- Random fun fact, she played baseball before she was ever adopted and had really good aim, depending on where she was hitting. It was a trait her siblings carried on as well, especially Benjamin even if he was more reserved one, he had a great aim.

- She always loved any sport that involves movement and play, soccer being one of them (since she lived in Brazil for a while). She liked to think she was rather talented when it came to that, even if she was a problem when it came to being around other kids, having a small temper and glaring at other people. Mainly, it was her insecurity that she hid underneath her own glares. 

- Matter a fact all the kids were talented in their own way ever since they were younger. Daphne when she was very little, believed at the time that she didn’t have any good talents and wasn’t as smart enough as it is. Until Sam took her out to the shopping and noticed that she stopped in front of small gymnastics building with wide eyes, softly grinning at the sight. She pleaded for him to let her walk in and see the girls, he nodded letting her watch. As she did, Daph realized she wanted to join in on the fun and dance as well. Sam couldn’t stop himself and called Bucky for his opinion on it.

- She started her classes soon enough and enjoyed it for the most part, her body was rather sore after some classes. So she wasn’t too happy about that part. When Bucky told Nat about it, the Russian spy came in shocked and said, “If she wanted to learn some acrobatics, why didn’t you come to me or Lydia? Barton would’ve showed her!” 

- Bucky just rolled his eyes and replied, “Cause she wanted that to be her own thing. And it doesn’t hurt to have some normalcy around her, Romanoff. I think it’s a good thing..” And Bucky was right about that, since he loved seeing his husband and children happy, enjoying themselves and having a break from the hero world. Hell, he goes to every talent show, buys items needed and participates in whatever is needed. Even if he’s not too happy about it at first.

- Of course as much as acrobatics were her own thing and all she ever wanted to do, so she can have that skill set. That didn’t stop the idea of having good marksmanship in her left corner, she was already good with a baseball bat and Bucky was more than happy to show the basics of how to hold/use a gun to his kids. Sam wasn’t too pleased about that idea though saying, “They’re too young!”

- And to be honest, Daph was pretty good with a gun. Swinging it swiftly and tossing the gun in her hands, holding it up to her target (which was an old target board hanging outside nearby the trees). However that didn’t mean she didn’t play around with the gun at first, holding in her hands and pretending to be a spy. “Barnes, but you can call Agent Daphnia Wilson, at your service.” She said with a giggle, humoring herself.

- Daph was always a little silly, cocky and daring. Not thinking first and asking questions later kinda gal—oops! So it lead her to getting in trouble sometimes, breaking certain curfews if she out at the movies with a friend (like with one of the young avengers), being a little lazy about things and running away from her problems like a champ. But by the end of the day, she was good girl.

-> Speaking of Young Avengers and Older Avengers. You’re probably wondering who’s her favorites are and first impression were of the teams huh? Well, here are your answers.

Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff were a given to being liked by her, due to her parents being friends with them. I mean come on, they are basically Captain America, The Black Widow and the rest of Cap’s Quarter.

Moving down the list Thor was always a silly man to her, hearing stories how he speaks in old English and is very noble when it comes to the things that he does. According to the stories from Sam, he was a rather loud fella with a good heart.

Clint Barton, she took a liking too finding his simple ways of life and honest charm to be a nice thing to see. Plus Clint has a similar murder stare to Bucky, so it was funny to see their resting faces when they’re in the same room together.

The man, the myth, the legend himself (or that’s at least what people like to say) Tony Stark was always one of a kind. She was very nervous to meet all of The Avengers, one of them being Stark having seen how the persona he displayed on TV screens and the stories. But in reality, Tony was just a genius goof with snarky humor, so it lighten up her mood.

It was like Bruce Banner sensed her nervousness from a mile away since she appeared in The Tower. He noticed the child behind Sam Wilson holding her jacket, leaned down to her level to kindly introduce himself to the girl and watching parents reactions. Soon enough, with Bucky leaning against the wall with a nod of encouragement, Daph started talking to Bruce with such softness and gentleness.

As for the rest of them, she met them some time later. The Young Avengers. She met the Stark siblings, Rei wasn’t in the lightest mood having no like the idea of meeting Barnes or Wilson’s kids but Olivia gave her a warm welcome and waved at her before rushing off to meet her friends at the mall.

Natasha Romanoff’s daughter Rochelle was kind enough to show her and her siblings around, chatting with them knowing it felt to be the new kids. Daph liked her reddish hair and kind smile.

Liane was something else, having been on a rambling mess when she met Daph and trying to figure out what to do with her plans. Laurie laughed as her sister snicker at the blonde, meanwhile Benji just rolled his eyes confused wanting to get away from there.

Meira was and will always be a delight to meet, since Daphnia met her that same week in The Tower’s kitchen and taste testing her new batch of cookies. They were delicious.

Speaking of food, when Daphnia met Rick she got the same warmth and kindness she remembered from being Bruce. But this time it involved snacks and jokes around his week at The Tower, she was all ears listening to him as they entered the kitchen to find some chicken nuggets.

Cole and Luna, it was more magic and fun spells when she came to see them. The two were casting some spills, when she got caught in one of them being turned into a little mouse by accident. Cole laughed as Luna worried, but they turned her back to normal soon enough.

Ethan was the 3rd sibling she met, and she thanked all the Stars and Stripes that it was a simple meeting. He was watching a movie, being Monsters Inc. when she met him the guy joining The Young Avengers for a movie night.

———

I hope you liked it and thank you for taking your time to read this!

If you want to know anything about theses OCs, let me know in the comments below.

Please like, comment, share and reblog if you like.

Tags: @gcthvile @rickb-chaos @msrochelleromanofffelton @mallowbee4 @mandylove1000 @gaminggirlsstuff @whitewiccan @rooster-84 @parisparker269 @sherloquestea @starkleila @meiramel @blueboirick and etc



[infiniteeight8]

Ironstrange prompt: During an interview Tony is asked about his relationship with Dr Strange. Tony..didn't know he was in one?

Tony has been making the rounds of the evening talk shows lately; press conferences are necessary, but they’re really only the very early start of good PR. He’s done enough talk shows to know the flow of them, and they’re coming up on the personal life part of the interview, so he’s relaxed and ready with the usual answer (“You think I have time to date these days?” with a laugh) when the woman interviewing him—Annette—smiles, leans in confidentially, and says, “So how are things going with the new beau?”

“Pardon?” Tony says, still outwardly relaxed even as his mind races. That’s not how this should have started.

“Oh, don't play coy!” Annette says, giving him a playful knee slap. “You’ve been photographed more with Doctor Strange in the past month than in three months with Pepper Potts, even at the height of that relationship.” She gestures to the screen behind him, where some production assistant has put up a collage of Tony and Stephen.

Tony turns to look, more to buy time than anything else, but finds his attention captured by the photos anyway. He doesn’t remember standing so close to Stephen, or smiling at him so warmly. No fewer than four dinners at fancy restaurants are pictured. Stephen, meanwhile, is resting his hand on Tony’s back or hip in at least half the pictures.

“I can understand wanting to let things settle before you talk about it,” the interviewer goes on, “but surely the time has come?” She smiles at him hopefully.

Tony can’t just deny it. Even if he and Stephen aren’t dating, straight denials look like lies in circumstances like this. But on top of that, Tony is now kind of wondering if they are dating. Those pictures are pretty suggestive, on both sides, and god knows Tony isn’t the savviest guy when it comes to emotions. “Come on, Annette,” he chides her, but in a friendly way. “I can’t answer that question without talking to Stephen.”

She heaves an exaggerated disappointed sigh and moves on. Tony is barely paying attention, rattling off canned answers with practiced ease. Mostly, he’s wondering how Stephen will react to the essentially uncontested assertion that they’re together.

And how he wants Stephen to react.

[starker-raving-mads]

For You: Part III

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX

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It was two months since the day Peter Parker's life changed for the second - third - fourth time.

He'd gotten more sleep over the last month than he had in the previous two months. It was partly due to sheer, never-ending exhaustion. His life since taking on the mantle as 'the new Tony Stark' - a title he balked at, mind you - had become pure chaos. At first, it was a relief. The instantaneous knowledge that money was no longer a problem. May could quit her job and devote her time to FEAST, he could complete his honors-GED (which many of the Blipped teenagers had chosen to do) and immediately hop into online college courses at Columbia with Ned and MJ.

Immediately following that relief, though, was his face splashed across every newspaper, tabloid, blog, and TikTok page in America.

He would never say it, and he couldn't prove it, but he was 99% sure it was Pepper's doing. After her initial outburst at the lawyer's offices, he'd hardly heard from her. His lawyers - god, his lawyers - had advised that he shouldn't respond to any comments on the subject of Pepper Potts being snubbed by her husband for Peter's heir status. While she had no legal leg to stand on since Tony's will was air tight and definite, that didn't stop her from digging her claws into all the ways she knew would hurt him.

Every time he saw something outrageous with his face on it on an article somewhere, he had to remind himself that she was grieving and in pain about a perceived betrayal by her husband. Her husband, who was Tony Stark, who did not belong to him.

No matter that the man had figured out time travel for him, had risked the universe, had given him billions of dollars and the most coveted job in the entire world. Tony only gave him this because there wasn't anyone else better that he trusted, but Peter knew that didn't mean he was Tony's true first choice, and he had to squash every niggling feeling and whisper of a thought that said he was. It would only make it hurt more when all he wanted was the pain to stop.

He'd finally found a moment, though, where things weren't quite as bad. He'd recently reconvened with Bucky, Steve, Sam, and Rhodey and they had a steady if not solid pact. They were all unsure of the situation, still, and Peter didn't blame them. He'd been…questioned, more politely than Pepper had done, on how he and Tony's relationship had unfolded.

When he'd explained that he was 14 when he met Mr. Stark, Steve and Bucky both winced, apologizing for the disaster that was Germany but Peter shrugged it off. He really hadn't been hurt and it was a foundational moment for his and Mr. Stark's relationship. He couldn't bring himself to regret it.

After that, they'd had a few meals together, talked more about his life - and theirs, to an extent, though he was far more privy to them than they had been of him.

"He never mentioned you," Steve said, shaking his head, baffled. He held a cool beer in his hand, leaning back from the patio table they had gathered around at the newly rebuilt SHIELD headquarters in upper state New York.

"Oh he mentioned Pete to me all right," Rhodey disagreed before reaching over and ruffling his curls lightly. Peter liked Rhodey, liked how hands-on he was, how relaxed but also somehow by the book, liked his humor. He could see how he and Tony had been such good friends. "But he'd only told me about his 'brilliant new intern'," they all chuckled. "He really kept the whole Spider-Man thing close to the chest."

"I'd asked him to," Peter admitted, peeling the wrapper off of his bottle of lemonade. "First because I was still like so young, yo know? And then later, after a few - pretty major - mistakes I made, I guess he thought I'd proved I was finally ready to be an Avenger."

"Well I never heard Tony trying to recruit anyone," Rhodey commented and they all looked at him quizzically.

Peter let out a single huffed laugh. "Yeah, uh," he tried to keep down the blush rising on his neck. "You remember the day that Mr. Stark proposed to Ms. Potts?" Rhodey and Sam both laughed long and hard.

"Even over in Wakanda we saw that," Sam chuckled. "It was the Tony Stark special - a huge thing wrapped in a tiny, chaotic package. Not unlike yourself," he raised his eyebrows at Peter, who flicked his bottle wrapper at him.

"Pepper had no idea it was coming," Rhodey agreed before taking a long drink of his own beer.

"Yeah, well I don't think Mr. Stark had really…planned it," he grimaced. At their faces, he continued. "He'd taken me up to Stark Tower and gave me this speech about having graduated to the 'big leagues' after my last big wrap up," he shrugged. "He gave me the Iron Spider suit and said I was ready to be an Avenger." He frowned, rubbing at the glue and paper residue on his bottle. "And I told him that I just wasn't ready yet. That I needed to stay in Queens for a while more, be the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Help the little guy, you know?" He raised earnest eyes up to the group and they all nodded, slowly. "So I asked him to just keep helping my identity to stay quiet," he shrugged.

"So, then what happened?" Bucky asked, long hair tilting with the rest of his head in curiosity. He didn't speak up often, but when he did, it was always because of something he really wanted to know.

"The next thing I knew I was being ushered downstairs to wait at the car for Happy," he shrugged. "I pulled out my phone and there on live broadcast Mr. Stark was proposing to Ms. Potts at a press conference." He chuckled. "It was - really, really weird."

He expected everyone else to laugh with him, but he was met with contemplative silence. He looked around at each of them before Rhodey finally met his gaze. "What?"

"I think," the older man said slowly, "that press conference was meant to be for your reveal as Spider-Man."

"No way - I mean," he shook his head as the rest of the guys started nodding their heads, agreeing thoughtfully. "He wouldn't propose to her just because - just because I said no to - "

" - to his proposal," Bucky finished.

It was another revelation that Peter could hardly bear the weight of. These things kept stacking and he wasn't sure how to balance all this knowledge he had, about the things Tony had done - and undone - for him. This one, though…this new information didn't hurt, not like the others did.

It actually made a strange amount of sense. At once, it both stung to feel like he was replaced with Ms. Potts so immediately, but also it was like the first fresh breath after being buried underground for so long to know that Peter's answer that day was so important to him that the only thing he could possibly trade it out for in equivalency was getting engaged.

Did this mean that if Peter had said yes Mr. Stark wouldn't have gotten married? It made his head spin, but it also made his heart lighter than it had been in weeks.

Light enough to finally enter the last bastion of refuge that Tony Stark ever took comfort in.

His lab.

Despite being uninhabited for who knew how long, when the familiar glass doors slid open the air wasn't musty, stale, or any such thing. It was as fresh and crisp as it ever was. Off in the corner the long L shaped couch that he and Mr. Stark had often collapsed into opposite ends of, exhausted, lay half-made with fluffy pillows. The coffee pot was empty but clean, and every other available surface covered in notes either figuratively, having been decorated with papers scribbled on with hundreds of lines of equations and code, or literally, like the side of Peter's work station, where he'd dropped to a crouch to finish writing something out when he ran out of paper, mid-idea. He knew he could've just kept writing mid-air thanks to the lab's complete holographic setup, but it wasn't the same as having something solid under your hands.

There was pain in the familiarity of the lab but there was also a feeling of home he hadn't quite gotten the first time he stepped back into his and May's apartment. Plus -

"Hello, Peter."

"Friday!" He exclaimed, smile breaking wide across his face. With a pang, he didn't realize just how much he'd missed the AI until this moment.

"Yes, Peter?" the AI asked, voice warm and if he dared to think it, amused.

"Nothing, nothing, I'm just excited to see you again," he chuckled, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. He started walking around the lab, taking it all in for the first time in what, to him, had been months. The longer he thought about that the more his brow furrowed. "Hey Friday?"

"Yes, Peter? Or would you like me to call you Boss as Tony had?"

"Oh! Um," he shook his head. "No, no Peter's fine, or whatever."

She hummed. "Would it be all right if I picked a name for you, Peter? Being able to distinguish between Boss and Others by a more specific title helps me with my internal hierarchy and understanding of individuals. If you would prefer I do not, though, merely say such."

"I mean if it helps you then, yeah, sure I guess."

"Thank you, Mini Boss," she said. He laughed again.

"You might wanna work on that," he smiled wide.

"Yes, I think it might take me some time, Father."

His eyes widened. "Father?"

"Hm, you're right," she said. "Boss was more like my Father, I suppose."

"Uh, yeah, definitely," Peter nodded. He gave her a beat to let her figure out what she wanted to call him as he walked over to his desk. He'd let her go through her process before he started asking the questions that sat burning in his mind.

"Would you be opposed to me calling you Mother, Peter?" Friday asked. He spun in his chair, smile wide again.

"If Tony was your Father, wouldn't he also be your Mother?" he asked, amused. "You know, having done 100% of your coding, and all."

"If one were to look at my original codebase as the only part of what makes me, me," she agreed. "However, would you not say that those that raise you are more worthy of such a title rather than just those that created you?"

He immediately thought to May and how, if he'd been younger when he came to her, he'd be calling her by that name.

"That's true enough, sure."

"And outside of Boss," she went on, "you are the individual most involved in my growth. So it stands to reason that if Boss is Father, then Peter is Mother."

"I - " he really didn't know what to say to that. It had never occurred to him that outside of Mr. Stark he was the one who interacted with Friday the most.

"If you would prefer I find a name not so closely connotated with females," she continued, "I can endeavor to do so."

"No, no, it's fine, Friday," he replied, quiet and in his head again. "You can - can call me Mother if you want." A not-so-small part of him felt absolutely, transparently happy that Friday considered him her parent. More than Mr. Stark leaving him the company, more than having all this financial security and ability to mess around with Tony Stark's labs, more than all of that - this meant something profound to him.

"I also thought," she said and that amusement was hinted at in her lilting Irish, "that it would be a nice subversive reference to the spacecraft from Alien."

He laughed out loud at that. "I love that movie, that's perfect."

He could feel her smile, then. "I know you do, Mother."

He slumped onto the stool at his table in the lab and finally asked his question. "Friday, can you tell me - why isn't the lab more different?"

"Different how?"

"Well it's just," he struggled to articulate the sentence, the feeling he was pulling at. "I was - gone - for five years. But it almost looks like this place never really changed?"

"I see," she said. "Boss spent a lot of time here after the Blip first happened, once he was home from Titan. He slept primarily on the couch in the corner and had me refill his coffee orders more than anything else. However, he never touched your things, Mother."

Peter frowned. "Why?"

"I could not say," she replied, tone ponderous. "Based on his patterns of movement, he seemed to specifically avoid your work areas. Though he did take a jacket you had left at her table to the couch. From my archival footage, he seemed to sleep with it, perhaps for warmth?"

It occurred to the teen, then, that Friday probably had thousands and thousands of hours of Tony on video and he could pull it to watch them at any time. The feeling of want was a fever in his blood and he asked, "Can you show me?"

"Of course, Mother."

Faint blue light lit up the couch and Peter walked over to it, seeing that more than merely just show him the video, she played it out in holographic projection. His breath hitched as Tony walked into view, Peter's hoodie in clutched in his hands. Staring down at it, he slumped onto the couch and brought the fabric to his face. Less breathing it in and more suffocating himself with it.

"I'm sorry," he heard muffled through Friday's speakers. "I'm so sorry, Pete."

Tony then curled up onto the couch on his side, face pressed to the hoodie, back toward the room. The projection cut off.

Peter didn't realize that he was crying until Friday asked, "Mother, are you okay?"

"I - " he tried to say, throat clogged with tears. "No," he admitted, jacket-covered wrist swiping away at his tears. He sniffled and sat where Tony had, finding his hoodie wedged between the cushions and the back of the couch. He pulled it out and, like Tony, smashed it to his face, breathing in the faintly lingering spicy scent of Tony Stark.

"I'm sorry, Mother," Friday said, speakers low, tone regretful. "I did not mean to cause you pain."

"You didn't, sweetheart," he shook his head, voice still clogged with tears. "I'm just sad."

"Why?" she asked, her natural curiosity shining through. Much like a child, she did not always know when it wasn't the right time to ask questions. But Peter had always liked indulging her and feeding her curiosity. The first few lab sessions they played 20 Questions back and forth until Tony would tell them both to shut up, though the amusement when he said it always shone through.

"I'm sad because Tony's dea - " he cleared his throat. "Because Tony - "

"It is okay, Mother," Friday cut him off. "I understand."

At that, he let himself fall back into the couch like Tony had. Above him, Friday dimmed the lights and stayed quiet, letting him cry out his grief in silence.