#pepper potts x y/n

[artficlly]

sweetpea [one-shot]

post-apocalyptic marvel au

retired!hero!bucky x fem!reader After the Riftborn War, Bucky Barnes seeks to retire from his past as a hero and settle down, you might just be the peace he’s been looking for all along.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, fem reader, p in v, against tree sex, outdoor sex, no protection, vague primal vibes, very consensual, kissing, underwear ripping, if you squint, there's some plot, teeth-rotting fluff, it's so cute, bucky barnes is the sweetest, beefy bucky, yelena meddles, steve rogers is horrified, spring festivals, paganism, masks, drinking, mentions of past violence, death and war, mentions of readers previous relationships, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 8.9k

A/N: hello! it's nearly my birthday so heres a treat for you all. i've been sitting on this idea for AGES. i've been working hard on the daughter of the rotsál first draft, so i decided to take a break from the angst for some fluffy, cute smut!! please let me know if you enjoy and your thoughts! sorry for any typos - not proof read. permanent tag list: @globetrotter28

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Being fucked over the table was not unwelcome but rather surprisingly pleasant, even if it derailed your breakfast plans. 

Leif had always been a rather attentive lover, skilled at pulling orgasm after orgasm out of your needy cunt. He possessed stamina and a hint of roughness that stirred warmth within you, yet something still felt absent. This elusive quality lingered throughout your year together—an unexpressed awareness that simmered between you. Leif was kind, diligent, attractive, and strong. He was considerate, often surprising you with gifts and regularly praising your looks and cooking. Your friends approved of him.

So even if that brief and passionate session had been perfect, him thrusting into you from behind so intensely that your toes curled and you had to press your face against the wooden surface to keep from screaming—you realised it was all somewhat melancholic. The thing that was missing between you and your Springbond was that fabled spark.

The decision to part ways had hurt, but you both knew it was right. A week before you had made the decision, on Mayflame he would move out, and the both of you would be single once more. The morning sex had been a goodbye of sorts, in typical Leif style. Even if you aligned perfectly, you inevitably amassed a long list of differences that broke the perfect illusion. You desired to settle down, concentrate on your work and home, and build connections with those nearby.

In contrast, Leif craved adventure and excitement—obviously, the Bleeding Age hadn’t brought enough danger and activity into his life. He later confessed that he was eager to sleep around more, as he was still a young man exploring his possibilities. This revelation didn’t necessarily shock or hurt you; you had captured his attention for the entire year, far beyond your predictions. Yet, you couldn’t help but wonder... were you boring?

After years of undue stress, survival, and several near-death experiences, you were eager to take advantage of the calm that followed the defeat of the Riftborn and the end of the Bleeding Age. You had to remind yourself—somewhat bitterly—that Leif was not the first and would not be the last. 

“Did you see who that was?” Yelena exclaimed from beside you, her hand gripping your forearm tightly. You nearly leapt in surprise, abruptly pulled from your thoughts. Your head turned as you looked back, tracking Yelena’s gaze. “I swear to the fucking gods that was Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes—”

You squinted at the backs of the two men who had passed you by. 

They walked like soldiers—steady, assured, their movements streamlined but commanding. No hesitation, no wasted motion, just the certainty of men who had spent years on battlefields, who had fought and bled and survived when others hadn’t. They were massive, even under their coats, their broad shoulders and thick arms unmistakable beneath the heavy fabric. Towering over the people around them, they carried themselves with the kind of presence that didn’t demand attention but took it anyway.

“The captain and the sergeant?” You shot back, doubt curling around your words as your brow furrowed. “I thought they were stationed in Stonebrook until the village was built.”

“They were… but last I heard, Stonebrook’s finished.” Yelena’s voice had an eager edge; her gaze locked onto the two figures even as they disappeared around a street corner, swallowed by the cobbled streets. “They were invited back for the Mayflame celebrations. The word is that they want to retire from the soldier business now the war is over.”

You rolled your eyes, tugging at her arm with a huff. “Come on, we’re going to be late—”

“But do you think they’ll run in Mayflame?” Yelena pressed, barely budging under your pull. 

“I mean, gods, can you imagine if Steve Rogers was your Springbond?” She exhaled, almost breathless at the thought, her fingers tightening around your sleeve as if the mere idea was enough to set her heart racing.

You grit your teeth, heat rising in your face—not from excitement but from secondhand embarrassment. A group of older women lingered outside your destination, snickering between themselves at Yelena’s loud ponderings. With a sharp yank, you pulled her off the street and into the village hall, the heavy wooden doors thudding shut behind you, sealing away the crisp morning air and her starry-eyed ramblings.

“There you two are! I need all the hands I can get!”

A flustered-looking Pepper Potts intercepted you and Yelena before you could fully step inside, already ushering you towards a large pile of decorations. Her sleeves were rolled to her elbows, auburn hair pinned haphazardly at the nape of her neck, a sure sign that she had been running herself ragged in preparation for the festival.

“I’ve got half the boys working on the course and the bonfire,” she said, exhaling sharply. “Can you please cart these down and get started on the flowers?”

“Of course,” you replied with a quick nod, already sizing up the pile, considering how best to carry everything down in as few trips as possible.

Yelena, however, had other priorities. “Pepper, are the captain and sergeant joining the Mayflame?” She asked shamelessly, barely masking the anticipation in her tone.

But Pepper had already turned, swept away by the tide of arriving villagers, barking orders as she moved—clearly too busy to entertain Yelena’s curiosity.

You scoffed, sinking your hands into a collection of freshly cut flowers, their stems already bundled neatly for easy transport. You had grown and picked them yourself, much to Pepper’s praise. In recent years, you found comfort in your gardens and flowerbeds. The scent of wild blooms filled your nose, the petals soft against your fingers as you began sorting through them. “Yelena, stop meddling and help me.”

“Fine, but you are no fun!” Yelena groaned, throwing herself down beside you with dramatic flair. Then, as if compelled by some unseen force, she added with a wistful sigh, “I know you’re upset about Leif, but at least let me dream of a raunchy, hero-filled Mayflame.”

Her voice carried farther than she likely intended. Several nearby villagers—some heaving chairs, others hauling tables—stopped mid-task, casting curious glances in your direction. 

Mortified, you didn’t dignify her with a response. 

—

“I mean, you keep saying you’re not upset about Leif, but you’re obviously upset.”

Yelena’s voice drifted up from below, thick with scepticism. She was not taking her duty of stabilising the ladder very seriously. The wooden rungs wobbled beneath your feet, shifting with every careless movement she made. A quick glance down confirmed your suspicions. She was barely gripping the beams, more occupied with craning her neck up the hill, no doubt hoping for another glimpse of the fabled Steve Rogers or Bucky Barnes.

You sighed, your arms burning from the strain. You had foolishly volunteered for the painstaking task of weaving flowers through the towering wooden archways that framed the festival’s entrances. The Mayflame decorations were meant to be intricate and beautiful—braided vines, bundles of wildflowers, bright ribbons fluttering in the evening breeze—but at this rate, you’d be lucky if you made it out of this task without breaking a limb.

“I’m not upset,” you grumbled, though your voice lacked conviction. You worked the soft stems of sweetpeas and baby’s breath into a sturdy braid, securing them with twine against the wooden frame. “We made a mutual decision. It wasn’t working. Just a Mayflame fling...”

Yelena snorted from below, unimpressed. The ladder swayed as she shifted, and you tightened your grip, heart stuttering. “You two lived together for a year. I think it was a little more than a fling.”

You exhaled sharply, your fingers tightening around the flowers. “If he wants to run off, sleep around, and travel, who am I to hold him back, Lena? He wanted something different than I did. It never would have worked.”

“I just…” Yelena hesitated. “I just don’t like thinking about you living up on that farm by yourself.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes as you reached for another bundle of flowers. “Then come visit me more often instead of spending all your nights at the tavern, bothering Nat. I need all the help I can get wrangling those weeds—”

The words barely left your mouth before the ladder jerked violently beneath you.

Your stomach lurched as you wobbled. You instinctively reached for the wooden arch to steady yourself but overcorrected. The shift in weight sent the ladder tilting dangerously, its legs twisting beneath you. The basket of flowers on your hip slipped free, tumbling towards the grass below in a flurry of petals.

“Yelena! The ladder—!”

“There’s a bee in my hair!” Yelena shrieked, her grip altogether abandoning the wooden beams as she flailed wildly. “Gods, if it stings me, I swear—”

You had no time to process her nonsense. The world lurched violently as the ladder lost its precarious balance, tipping sideways with terrifying speed.

Air whipped at your cheeks as you plunged downward. Your arms shot up in a feeble attempt to protect your head, your entire body bracing for the inevitable collision with the earth below.

But the pain never came.

Instead, you collided with something solid—something warm.

A pair of strong arms locked tightly around your middle, yanking you against a broad, muscled chest. The force of your fall sent both of you toppling over; your breath knocked from your lungs as your saviour twisted to absorb the impact. The two of you crashed into the grass in a tangled heap.

A startled squeak escaped your lips as you landed atop them, hands splayed flat against their chest. Their sheer size was dizzying—hard muscle beneath the thin fabric. The steady rise and fall of their breathing made you acutely aware of how firmly you were pressed against them.

For a long second, neither of you moved, your heart pounding as you processed what had just happened. Then, slowly, the arms around your waist loosened. A deep, low voice rumbled beneath you, quieter than you expected yet laced with a restrained amusement.

“Careful, angel. Keep this up, and people will talk.”

Your breath hitched, pulse stuttering as you realised who lay beneath you. Bucky Barnes.

A cold rush of realisation hit like a shock to the system. Your eyes widened in alarm as you took in the situation. Your hands braced against the solid plane of his chest, his body beneath yours, broad and unmoving. Worse, your legs were hooked around his hips, the warmth of him seeping through your clothes—oh gods, were you sitting on his—?

Panic jolted through you. Without a second thought, you scrambled off him in a flurry of movement, heat rushing to your face. Your hands shot up instinctively as if you could wave away the mortifying situation.

“I—I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

Bucky didn’t move immediately. He remained where he was, lying on the ground, one arm bent behind his head. The dappled sunlight filtering through the trees cast shadows on his face, highlighting the defined angles of his cheekbones and the depth of his blue eyes. There was no teasing smirk, no cocky remark—just a quiet, lingering patience.

Finally, with a slow, fluid motion, he pushed himself upright, his expression unreadable. 

“It’s fine,” he assured, his voice smooth but low, edged with something thoughtful. Just a quiet confidence that sent an unexpected shiver down your spine.

You took a hurried step back, trying to regain some semblance of composure, but the erratic beat of your heart refused to settle. You’d always known of Bucky Barnes—the colder one, the quiet one. The man whose name carried a reputation as cutting as winter’s first frost. Yet now, looking at him, the weight of that reputation felt at odds with how he carried himself.

There was something measured about his movements, deliberate and careful, as though he were wary of taking up too much space.

The silence stretched between you until his voice, softer this time, broke through. “You’ve got a little something…”

His hand shot up before you could reply—quick yet remarkably gentle. His fingers delicately moved through your hair, his careful touch igniting a familiar warmth in your gut.

You froze.

He plucked something from your hair and turned it over in his fingers. A single sweetpea, its delicate petals trembling in the breeze. Bucky studied it with quiet intensity, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Sweetpea,” he murmured, as if the word carried weight, his gaze flicking back to meet yours. How he looked at you—calm yet piercing—made your breath catch. For a fleeting moment, the world felt impossibly still.

Your cheeks burned. You didn’t even know why.

“I—I’m sorry,” you stammered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Something flickered across his face, subtle but there. Not quite a smile, but something close, something softer than you would have expected from a man with his reputation.

“You don’t have to apologise,” he said simply. Then, after a beat, quieter: “You could’ve hurt yourself.”

It was such a small thing. Barely even a kindness. You were glad the hero couldn’t sense the throbbing between your legs. Maybe this break-up with Leif had indeed done a number on you, lusting after the first man who showed you kindness... but there was something rather magnetic about the sergeant you couldn’t quite understand. 

You swallowed, forcing yourself to focus and gather the scattered remnants of your pride. Your gaze turned to the abandoned basket of flowers at your feet, a welcome distraction.

 "Right, well, thank you,” you muttered. “I should probably—” 

You motioned vaguely toward the half-finished floral arch, eager to redirect the moment into something less intense. But before Bucky could respond, a sharp, frantic voice shattered the moment.

“Oh, gods! I’m so sorry, there was a bee, and I just—are you okay?” You barely had time to brace before Yelena was upon you, hands gripping your shoulders, her wide green eyes scanning your face as if she expected to find a gaping wound. You squirmed under her touch, cheeks still burning.

“I’m fine, Lena,” you mumbled, trying to pry her hands off you. “Really.”

“Yes, of course! This gentleman saved you—” Yelena cut herself off mid-sentence, her entire body freezing as she finally got a good look at him. Her eyes widened, her mouth dropping open in unfiltered shock. “Wait. You’re Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky’s expression shifted, barely, but you caught it. A flicker of something. Not quite discomfort, but something close. His posture stiffened, his fingers flexing once before settling back into stillness.

He didn’t confirm or deny it. He just gave a slow, short nod. You saw the way his throat bobbed slightly as he swallowed, the way he held himself—not defensive, exactly, but closed off as if he had already braced for whatever reaction was coming next.

Yelena’s gaze darted between you, her sharp mind working fast. Too fast. There was a feral glint in her eyes, one you knew well. You could practically see the cogs turning in her mind, a meddling scheme already in action. You held back a groan.

Before she could say something truly insufferable, a sharp, shrill voice rang out from across the unlit bonfire.

“There you are! I need more flowers—can you believe it? I thought we’d have enough with all that you grew. Please tell me you have more in that garden of yours!” You blinked, grateful for the interruption, and immediately turned towards the sound of Pepper’s voice. 

“Yes, of course,” you called back, relief flooding through you. “I grew extra just in case. I had a feeling this might happen.” 

“Wonderful! Oh, you’re a lifesaver today,” Pepper’s voice rose in excitement. “Leave the floral arches for now. I’ll have one of the girls help finish them up. If you could just run up to your garden—” 

You didn’t need to hear the rest. 

“Of course!” You cut her off a little too eagerly, desperate to get away from Yelena’s looming interrogation. It was almost like an escape route had opened, and you weren’t about to hesitate. Pepper barely seemed to notice your enthusiasm as she continued.

“Oh, but you won’t be able to carry them all alone, will you? Yelena, you’ll help her, won’t you? And, oh, Bucky, I didn’t realise you were down here already. If I send you and Steve up as well, can you help these lovely ladies?”

You turned towards him instinctively, almost uncertain of what to expect. Bucky, who had been silent throughout the exchange, lifted his head slightly. His eyes jumped towards Pepper, then towards you. His blue eyes were unreadable, his expression impossible to decipher.

Then, finally, he spoke.

“Yeah.”

That was it. No unnecessary words, no wasted breath. Just a quiet, steady answer, the same way he seemed to carry himself, like a man who only spoke when it was worth speaking.

Yelena, on the other hand, was already on you like a hawk, latched onto your arm, nails digging through even your clothing as she grinned in excitement. Instead, you held back any protest that wanted to bubble to the surface, donning a hesitant smile. You couldn’t shake the feeling that the afternoon was about to take a turn for the absurd.

There was no way out of this now. 

—

The sun sat high in the sky as the four of you climbed the hill towards the garden. The path was uneven, the dirt packed down from years of footsteps, the scent of wildflowers and earth thick in the warm air. You focused ahead, gripping the empty basket, determined not to meet anyone’s gaze—especially not Bucky’s.

Of course, Yelena had no such reservations. She walked beside Steve, hands clasped behind her back, the picture of feigned innocence. You could feel the question brewing before she even opened her mouth.

“So,” she began, her tone laced with a familiar mischief. “You two were some of the great heroes of the Blooded Age.”

Steve huffed a small, almost bashful laugh. “I wouldn’t call us heroes.”

“Really?” Yelena raised a brow. “Because I’ve heard plenty of stories that say otherwise. You fought monsters, saved villages, built armies—sounds pretty heroic to me.”

Steve glanced at Bucky as if expecting him to jump in, but the other man remained quiet, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. Steve sighed and shrugged. “We did what needed to be done. It wasn’t about being heroes. People were dying, and the world was falling apart. We just... fought to keep it together.”

Yelena hummed, unimpressed with his humility. “And now you’re here. Retired.”

“That’s the plan.”

“You must be very tired.” She smirked. “All that fighting. Saving the world. Carrying such a heavy burden on those broad, broad shoulders.”

You choked on absolutely nothing, coughing into your hand as warmth flared in your cheeks.

Steve cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was time to put the war behind us.”

Yelena turned to Bucky, who had been walking a step behind, silent as ever. “And what about you, Barnes? Tired of fighting too?”

Bucky finally glanced her way, his expression unreadable. 

“War doesn’t leave much room for a future.” His voice was low, quiet, but firm. “Figured it was time to start thinking about one.”

Yelena tilted her head, studying him like a puzzle she was determined to solve. “And New Fernwick is the place to do that?”

Bucky didn’t answer immediately. His attention turned to you—brief and mysterious—before he looked back at the trail. “Seems as good a place as any.”

Yelena smirked, but you reached the garden before she could push further.

“Here we are!” You announced, a little too brightly, desperate to change the subject.

You set your basket down and knelt to gather the flowers, focusing intently on the task. Yelena crouched beside you, plucking a few stems with ease. Steve busied himself as well, his hands surprisingly gentle as he worked.

Bucky, however, remained standing with his arms crossed as he surveyed the field of blooms. After a brief pause, he crouched, reaching for a flower near your basket. You watched as his fingers brushed over the petals carefully and deliberately.

Yelena noticed too. “Didn’t peg you for a flower guy, Barnes.”

Bucky plucked the stem and twirled it between his fingers, his expression unreadable. “You learn to appreciate the small things when you don’t see ‘em for a long time.”

The words were simple, but they settled in your chest, something unspoken lingering beneath them.

Yelena, for once, said nothing.

The silence stretched as the four of you worked, the baskets gradually filling, until until Yelena, as always, shattered it with a single sentence—one that made your stomach drop the moment it left her mouth.

“So, are you two going to do the Mayflame Run?”

Your fingers tightened around the delicate stems of the flowers in your hands, nearly crushing them. Heat flared up your neck, and you snapped your head towards her. “Yelena.”

She only grinned, tilting her head in mock innocence. “What?”

 She batted her lashes. “It’s a fair question.”

Bucky and Steve glanced up from where they were crouched, picking through the wildflowers. The question had caught them off guard. Steve’s brow furrowed, curiosity laced with hesitation.

“What exactly is the Mayflame Run?” he asked.

You parted your lips, scrambling for a way to downplay it, but Yelena was already launching into her favourite pastime—oversharing.

“It’s a spring festival all about welcoming in the new season... new life... fertility and all that.” She wiggled her fingers for emphasis, an impish smirk tugging at her lips.

Steve blinked, his expression shifting into one of wary understanding. “Right…”

The mischief in Yelena’s eyes deepened as she continued.

“The main event is the run. We call it the Springbond Run, but let’s be honest—everyone knows what it’s really about. See, after the Blooded Age, people kind of… forgot how to date. Or just didn’t bother.” She waved a hand as if brushing aside years of devastation. “War, famine, monsters—it put a real damper on romance. And, well, people aren’t exactly repopulating at the rate they should be, so...” 

She shot Steve a pointed look. “The elders decided to encourage things.”

Steve still looked uncertain. "And how does it work?”

You exhaled through your nose, adjusting your basket.

“The women carry torches and run through the dark forest,” you explained, keeping your voice even as possible. “The goal is to reach the clearing on the other side and light the bonfire.” 

You hesitated, dreading the next part. “The men chase them.”

Steve’s brows lifted. “They chase them?”

You nodded stiffly, but Yelena was the one who answered.

“If you get caught,” she said breezily, “you have to date the guy who caught you for a week. You’re now each other’s Springbond. After that, you decide if you want to keep seeing each other or go your separate ways. Most end up sticking it out. Either for marriage or, at the very least, some fun.”

Your stomach twisted as Bucky’s gaze flickered towards you. He hadn’t spoken yet or reacted outwardly, but you felt the weight of his attention pressing against your skin like an unspoken question.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, clearly processing the information. “And what happens to the women who manage to light the bonfire?”

“Oh, then they get to choose who they spend the week with,” Yelena said. "Which honestly makes the whole thing even more exciting. It’s so dark, you don’t always know who’s chasing you until they’re right on top of you, pinning you to the ground—”

Steve choked on his own breath, shifting awkwardly. You clamped your eyes shut, pressing your fingers to your temples.

“Yelena.”

“What?” she said, all false innocence. 

“It’s true. And let’s be real, some people don’t even wait until after the run to start celebrating.” She smirked. “All that adrenaline, all that tension, out there all alone in the woods—”

Steve made another strangled sound, and you wished, for the first time in your life, that you had the power to smite Yelena where she stood.

“And this is normal?” he asked weakly.

You let out a long breath. “Yes. It’s… tradition.”

Yelena’s smirk stretched wider, and a pit of dread opened in your stomach just before she delivered the final blow.

“Oh, she would know,” she said airily. “She’s done it three times.”

Silence.

You felt the shift in the air before you even looked up. Steve was already glancing away politely, but Bucky—Bucky’s gaze was steady, unyielding, waiting. His expression was unreadable, but there was something sharp beneath it, something that made your pulse stutter.

Your mouth went dry. “I—uh—yeah.”

Yelena cackled, delighted. “And she had quite the reputation for it, too. She and Leif turned it into a year-long one-night stand."

Your stomach dropped. Heat flared at your ears, mortification wrapping around your ribs like a vice. Steve coughed into his fist, visibly uncomfortable, but Bucky—Bucky still hadn’t looked away. The weight of his silence pressed against you, heavier than any words could be. He didn’t flinch, didn’t frown, didn’t even raise a damn eyebrow. He just watched as if waiting for you to offer something. An explanation. A reaction.

You swallowed hard.

Yelena, meanwhile, had absolutely no shame.

“Some people take the week actually to get to know each other,” she continued with a smirk. “Others treat it like a festival fling. A week-long one-night stand, if you will.” 

She turned to Bucky then, eyes glinting. “You seem like the type who’d do a Mayflame run.”

Bucky finally exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “You get that from watching me pick flowers?”

Yelena leant in. “No, I got it from watching you look at her.”

Your breath hitched.

Bucky didn’t flinch. Didn’t react at all. He just held her gaze for a long moment before standing, dusting the dirt from his hands with deliberate ease.

“We should get these back,” he said.

That was it. No denial.

Your pulse thrummed in your ears as Yelena shot you a triumphant look, nudging your arm with her elbow. You shoved her back harder than necessary, grabbing your basket with too much force.

—

You had braided sweetpeas into your hair, their delicate petals—a cascade of soft pinks, purples, and whites—woven carefully through your strands. The fragrance clung to you, sweet and fleeting, barely noticeable except when the wind stirred just right. You didn’t know why you had done it. Maybe it was a whim, an idle distraction while you got ready for the Mayflame. Maybe it was some quiet hope you refused to name, a foolish sentiment born from the strange afternoon. Or maybe, worse than all of that, it was the loneliness of returning to an empty house.

Leif had left while you were gone. You hadn’t seen him pack or even heard the door shut behind him. Just silence, so much silence. His absence had been waiting for you like a ghost when you stepped inside. No trace of him remained, save for a few scuff marks on the wooden floor and a half-finished bottle of cider in the kitchen. You had stared at it for a long time before scrubbing the house clean in a fit of confused energy as if sweeping away the dust might sweep away the ache in your chest.

Did you even want to run tonight? If it always turned out this way?

Leif had been inevitable—his leaving, even more so. The one before him barely lasted the week. And the first... gods, the first. You didn’t let yourself think about that one.

Yet here you were, standing in the dark forest, a burning torch in your hand.

The other women huddled together, whispering in excited clusters, their laughter soft and secretive beneath the trees. The firelight flickered over their masked faces, catching on the gilded edges and painted symbols of the goddess of spring. Yelena was causing trouble somewhere in the throng, as always, her voice carrying through the dark.

“I swear, I can pick them out. I just need a second,” she was saying.

You sighed, already knowing exactly what she was up to.

“It’s a useless pursuit,” you had reminded her earlier. “They’ll be masked, everyone will. That’s the whole point.”

And yet, she was determined. You caught a glimpse of her through the shifting bodies, her blonde hair twisted into an elaborate crown braid behind her fox mask, taunting the gathered men. They stood on the opposite side of the clearing, a sea of darkened figures illuminated only by flickering torchlight. The line between hunter and hunted might have blurred if not for their masks.

You fiddled with the edges of your own mask, adjusting it once more against your face. Each mask bore the likeness of a creature of the forest—the women had prey animals: deer, rabbits, and foxes. You had chosen a wide-eyed doe, its carved wooden surface smooth against your fingertips. The men, in contrast, wore the guises of predators: wolves, bears, and great hunting birds.

A shiver trailed down your spine as you scanned their ranks, the shadows swallowing their bodies.

This was fate, they said. A tradition older than the Blooded Age. The goddess of spring would take the helm, guiding her children together. 

Destiny, not choice.

You weren’t sure you believed in fate anymore.

Still, you craned your neck, searching for Yelena again before the race began. Some women had already lined up at the start, their torches raised, waiting for the signal. You pushed through the crowd, weaving past a group of masked rabbits, your torch casting long, twisting shadows over the forest floor.

Yelena stood at the edge of the men’s group, utterly unbothered, her fox mask tilted slightly as she studied them. The smirk you couldn’t see was undoubtedly plastered across her face.

“Lena,” you called lightly.

She turned towards you, still distracted. “You’d think we’d be able to recognise them even with the masks, right? They should be massive, but it’s so hard to tell in the dark—”

You grabbed her wrist, pulling her away. “Come on.”

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled.

As you turned, your torchlight swept over a lone figure standing at the edge of the men’s group. Half-shrouded in shadow, his wolf mask glinted in the firelight. His posture was relaxed, almost lazy, yet there was an unmistakable intensity in his standing and watching.

You swallowed hard and averted your gaze.

Tugging Yelena along, you stepped towards the start line.

The time was near.

You gathered your skirts with one hand, feeling the rough fabric in your fist. The cool night air licked at your skin, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine. Around you, the other women shifted in anticipation, their torches flickering like stars in the dark. Somewhere beyond the trees, the men waited. Watching.

A hush fell over the gathered crowd. Then—

The drum sounded.

The tension snapped, and you ran.

Flames bobbed wildly as the women surged forward, feet pounding against the forest floor. Laughter rang through the night, breathless and high, voices calling to one another before being swallowed by the trees.

Yelena was gone in an instant, lost in the chaos.

You barely had time to register it before you were weaving between trunks, torchlight bouncing wildly in your periphery. Your skirts whipped around your legs, the rough fabric catching on twigs and undergrowth, but you didn’t slow. The forest stretched wide before you, vast and shrouded in shadows.

Adrenaline surged through your veins, heart hammering against your ribs.

It was exhilarating.

You could hear the others somewhere to your left, their laughter spilling through the trees, echoing their footfalls blending with your own. And behind you, somewhere in the dark, the men had begun their pursuit.

The sound of movement grew. Leaves rustled, and twigs snapped. 

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t dare look back.

Instead, you pushed forward, your torchlight slicing through the thick night. The distant hum of music reached your ears, the festival, just beyond the treeline. You were close. So close.

Then—impact.

A weight slammed into you from the side, knocking the air from your lungs. Your torch flew from your grasp, landing somewhere in the brush, its flame sputtering but not extinguished.

You hit the ground hard, back pressing into the cool earth, the scent of moss and crushed leaves filling your senses. Above you, a broad figure loomed, breathing heavily from the chase.

The dim torchlight barely illuminated him, casting jagged shadows across the carved wolf mask that stared down at you. The smooth, wooden surface gave away nothing—no expression, no hint of who was beneath it.

Your pulse thundered.

Around you, the chase still roared on. Footsteps pounded the earth, laughter echoing as others darted past, unseen but near.

You swallowed hard, your breath coming fast, your chest rising and falling. You had been caught.

But gods, it was thrilling.

The figure above you didn’t move, as if waiting—for what, you weren’t sure. His hands were braced on either side of you, caging you in, his breath still heavy from the chase. Yet he didn’t press his advantage or seize you like the others would have. Instead, he lingered, watching.

Then, in the flickering torchlight, he reached for your hair.

You barely breathed as his fingers tangled into the strands, the movement deliberate, almost reverent. Slowly, he plucked one of the deep violet sweetpeas from your braid, twirling it between his fingers before your masked face. The petals fluttered slightly with the motion, fragile between the ridges of his calloused fingertips.

A beat of silence stretched between you. Then, finally, his voice, low, deep, rough with exertion.

“Hey, sweetpea.”

The nickname sent a shock through you, something warm curling in your chest even as your breath hitched. Recognition dawned, sharp and sudden.

“Bucky?” You murmured, stunned.

Even if surprise coursed through you, it made sense. The sheer size of the body hovering above yours, the weight of him pressing into the earth, the controlled stillness…it was him. A reversed echo of your earlier position that day.

“How did you—”

“Your hair,” he interrupted, his voice quieter now, rougher. “You put flowers in your hair. I recognised it.”

He reached up, fingers catching the edge of his mask, and in a smooth motion, he pulled it free. The last flickers of the torch beside you cast just enough light to reveal the sweat beading on his brow, the shadows cutting across his sharp features—and the unmistakable, almost feral gleam in his eye.

Something deep inside you clenched at the sight.

You exhaled a breathless laugh, your hands instinctively sliding up his broad shoulders, fingers curling around the back of his neck. Beneath your palms, his skin was hot, his pulse hammering. “I didn’t think you were running.”

“I wasn’t going to.” He hesitated, head tilting slightly as footsteps dashed past, followed by an excited shriek from one of the other women. The sound faded into the trees, leaving you in perfect darkness, only the two of you remaining in the silence. “But—”

He trailed off, his voice thick with something unspoken. His weight above you was solid, immovable, and gods, you liked it.

“Do you want this?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Instead of answering, you twisted your arm, pulling your mask off. You weren’t sure he could see the grin curling your lips in the dark, so you let your actions speak for you. Tugging him closer, your chests collided, heat blooming between you.

“Yes,” you breathed.

And then his lips crashed into yours.

The kiss was molten, searing through your veins like wildfire. He wasn’t hesitant, wasn’t uncertain—he kissed you like he had been holding himself back for far too long, like the chase had only wound him tighter, and now he was unravelling against you.

You gasped into his mouth as he shifted, his weight pressing down on you, one hand sliding to your waist, fingers digging in, anchoring you to him. His other hand tangled in your hair, gripping just enough to make your head tilt back, giving him full access. He took it eagerly, deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours in a slow, devastating stroke.

Heat pooled in your stomach, your legs shifting beneath him, but then—

With shocking ease, he moved.

For a brief second, you were weightless, a startled sound escaping your lips as he lifted you effortlessly from the ground. You barely had time to react before your back hit rough bark, the solid tree trunk now bracing you. His hands were firm as they guided your legs around his waist, pinning you in place. You could already feel his cock growing hard, pressed into one of your thighs as you squirmed beneath him.

A shudder wracked through you at his sheer strength, the way he handled you like you weighed nothing. The last remnants of your composure shattered when his lips found your throat, the scrape of his teeth ghosting over sensitive skin. You gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders, the sensation overwhelming and utterly intoxicating.

"You run fast, angel," he murmured against your skin, his voice dark and teasing. His lips trailed lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw. "But not fast enough."

A breathless laugh escaped you, your fingers threading into his hair, pulling just enough to make him look at you. In the darkness, his blue eyes burned.

“I didn’t want to get away.”

Bucky’s breath hitched, and he just looked at you for a moment. Then, his grip on your waist loosened, fingers slipping beneath your skirts. He let out a deep groan as his digits navigated past your underwear, sweeping through the wetness already gathered. “You’re so wet already.”

You threw your head back at the small act of friction, your skull pressing hard into the rough bark as your chest heaved. He did one final pass, stroking through your folds. In the close distance between your faces, you could see a smirk lingering as your hips rocked involuntarily, begging for more. 

Bucky brought his fingers to his lips, his gaze never leaving yours as he pressed them flat against his tongue, dragging them slowly past his lips. His eyelids fluttered briefly, his breath coming heavier as he tasted you, a low, guttural sound rumbling in his chest. “Mmm.”

Heat coiled in your stomach at the sound, something deep and electric winding tight inside you. 

“Bucky—” The whine clawed unexpectedly from your throat, raw with desperation.

He smirked, his expression both teasing and dark, his hand slipping between your bodies.

“I know, sweetpea,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. His fingers fumbled blindly with his belt, metal clinking softly in the hush of the forest. You could feel his hunger in the way his body pressed against yours, restless, taut with restraint he was barely clinging to.

You rolled your hips against his hand, a breathless sigh spilling from your lips as friction sent a fresh wave of heat pooling between your thighs. He inhaled sharply, his head tilting slightly as if savouring the way you reacted to him.

“Tell me,” he coaxed, his voice lower now, almost commanding.

Your fingers curled against his shoulders, nails digging in. Your head tipped back against the tree's rough bark, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your lips parted around the words.

“I need you,” you whispered. “Now.”

Something snapped in his expression.

Bucky didn’t hesitate.

A sharp gasp tore from your throat as his fingers hooked into the delicate fabric of your underwear. His patience was fraying. No careful undressing, no gentle peeling away. His grip was rough and decisive, a growl slipping from his throat as he gave one sharp tug. The fabric tore effortlessly beneath his fast fingers, the sound lost beneath the hammering of your pulse in your ears. He didn’t even bother pulling them down—too impatient, too consumed by need.

You could practically feel your wetness dripping down to your thighs as he blindly lined himself up, cock pushing into your needy heat. Your head dipped, your mouth finding the top of his shoulder as you bit down lightly with a soft cry. The world beyond this moment—the festival, the music, the laughter—blurred into nothingness. The only thing that existed was the feverish press of his body, the way his fingers dug into your skin, anchoring you to him as if he never wanted to let go.

“Fuck.” He hummed low in your ear. His voice strained as he slowly rocked in and out of you. You could tell he was restraining himself, his muscles taut along his back. You hooked your legs around his waist tighter, pulling your bodies flush. 

Bucky tilted his head, his lips ghosting over your jaw before finally finding your mouth, desperate and all-consuming. His pace faltered for a moment, a quiet groan slipping from his throat as you tightened around him.

“Gods, you’re so fuckin’ tight, so fuckin’ perfect—” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer. Your breath was hot against his neck and ear as you whispered. “Then don’t stop.”

Any type of restraint the hero had been holding snapped, his hips immediately jerking into action, beginning a relentless pace, withdrawing from you only to slam back inside. Each thrust sent sparks through your body, pleasure coiling tighter, overwhelming in its intensity. One of his hands roamed, sliding down your thigh to where you connected.

You let out a gasping moan into his shoulder as his thumb found your clit, the added circling motion sending a spike of pleasure up your spine. You felt your cunt tighten around him again as you jolted from the sensation, back arching inward. 

“Bucky—” You groaned into his ear, head tilting as you laid hot, sloppy kisses that were all lips and tongue along his neck. You could taste salt on his skin, sweat beginning to mist both of you. The squelching and slapping sounds of your connected bodies echoed through the dark forest,  the both of you barely holding back the pleasured moans and gasps. 

“You gonna cum for me, angel?” Bucky growled against your throat. Your toes curled in delight. His strokes were already growing frantic and sloppy. You pushed yourself back against the trunk, chest heaving as you used your grip around his waist to grind yourself upon his thumb further. A coiling sensation grew in your gut, a knot beginning to tighten. You closed your eyes with a gasp, chasing the sensation. 

“Y-Yes.” You stammered through your pants, nails digging into his shoulders as your body began to shudder around him. Bucky let out a dark chuckle, straining through his grit teeth as he continued to plough into you. His thumb circled once more, gentle but practiced. You felt your back arch involuntarily—

You moan his name as every wave of pleasure washes over you. Your hips buck and your thighs shake, but he doesn’t let up. His cock strokes inside of you at a continued relentless pace, and he moans right along with you. Bucky’s hand began to roam along your legs, gripping your flesh tighter as he chased his own release. There would be finger-shaped bruises all over your hips and thighs by the time this was over. 

You’re panting above him. Eyes closed, the grip on his shoulders slackening as ropes of thick, hot cum fill you. His cock throbs, each pump releasing even more, only stopping as his hips stutter and his heated moans in your ear fade. 

The two of you panted in the aftermath. Bodies still pressed together as the sounds of the forest slowly filtered back into your ears—the distant thrum of festival music, the rustling leaves overhead, the occasional laughter of those still running through the trees. Your heart hammered against your ribs.

Bucky shifted first, pressing a lingering kiss to the base of your throat, his lips warm and soft against your sweat-dampened skin. His breath fanned over your collarbone as he slowly and carefully lowered you to your feet. Your knees nearly buckled when they touched the earth, your legs trembling with exhaustion. A startled gasp left you as you clung to him for support, fingers curling into his shirt.

“Easy, sweetpea,” he murmured, a quiet chuckle rumbling in his chest as he steadied you, one strong arm wrapping around your waist. His touch was grounding and reassuring, though the heat in his gaze told you he wasn’t entirely done with you yet.

You huffed a breathless laugh, tilting your head to look at him. 

“You know we have to go to the dance now, right?” Though amusement laced your tone, you could already picture the knowing smirks Yelena and the others would shoot you when you finally emerged.

Bucky smirked, eyes dark with satisfaction.

“Even better,” he murmured, leaning in until his lips brushed the shell of your ear. “All I’ll be able to think about is those little noises you make... and that mess between your legs.”

Your breath hitched, a shiver rolling down your spine despite the lingering warmth in your limbs. You swallowed hard, heat pooling low in your belly once more at the thought of his hands on you again, the way he had unravelled you so easily.

He tilted your chin up with a single finger, pressing a teasing kiss to your lips before stepping back slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

 “Come on, sweetpea,” he murmured, his eyes flickering with mischief as he laced his fingers with yours. “Let’s go dance.”

—

By the time you and Bucky arrived, the festival was in full swing, the air thick with the scent of roasted meats, spiced cider, and the smoky tang of bonfires. Laughter and music filled the clearing, the rhythmic beat of drums and the sweet hum of strings carrying through the night. Couples swayed to the music, feet shuffling against the packed earth as villagers danced in loose circles, the warmth of drink and celebration evident in every movement.

You barely had time to take it all in before a chorus of knowing smirks and raised brows greeted your arrival. Yelena, seated at a long wooden table with a tankard of something strong in hand, nearly choked on her drink when she spotted you—your slightly dishevelled hair, the flush still clinging to your skin, and Bucky’s possessive grip on your waist.

“About time,” she called with a grin, eyes flicking between the two of you. “Did you get lost?”

Bucky, unbothered, merely smirked and tugged you towards the dancing. “Something like that.”

You shot her a look, but it was impossible to ignore the amused glances and hushed whispers behind you. You tried not to think about the wet mess—a combination of both your fluids nesting between your thighs. Bucky had offered you a handkerchief to clean up, but the small square of fabric had done little against the wetness dripping down your thigh. What didn’t help was the thought of that handkerchief he casually tucked back into his pocket before you could protest. Your lips parted, ready with some half-hearted excuse, but Bucky spun you into his arms before you could respond.

The moment he pulled you into the dance, the rest of the festival seemed to fade into the background. His hands found your waist, guiding you through the steps with ease, music thrumming beneath your skin. Everything was intoxicating, with the warmth of his palm against the small of your back and the gentle pressure of his fingers as he led you.

His lips dipped close to your ear as you moved, swaying to the rhythm. “So, who is this Leif guy?”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but then sighed, your fingers tightening slightly against his shoulder. “Oh—just… my last Springbond.” 

The words felt foreign on your tongue now, distant. “It didn’t really work out in the end.”

Bucky hummed, his thumb brushing slow, lazy circles over your hip. “Why not? Sounded like you lasted longer than a week.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, tilting your head back slightly to meet his gaze.

“Well… we just had different paths. He wanted to explore, adventure, sleep around…” You trailed off, gaze flickering to the firelight dancing in his blue eyes. “I was looking to settle. I’m just tired after everything. I feel you would understand that.”

His grip on you tightened ever so slightly, his gaze dark and steady as he murmured, “I understand you completely, angel.”

Something in the way he said it made your chest ache, warmth curling in your stomach in a way that had nothing to do with the fire or the wine or the exhilaration of the chase. He understood.

You held his gaze, the firelight dancing over his face. There was something ancient in his eyes, something heavy, worn by time and battle. You had known, of course, what he and Steve were before they arrived in New Fernwick—everyone did.

And yet, when the war ended, when the Riftborn were vanquished and peace finally settled over the world, they had simply walked away. But peace was a fickle thing, and you often wondered if it had truly found them in return.

Bucky’s fingers flexed against your waist, grounding you back in the present.

“You ever think about it?” you asked softly.

He tilted his head slightly, the movement curious. “Think about what?”

You hesitated for only a moment before speaking. “The way things used to be. Before.”

His jaw tensed, but he didn’t look away.

“Sometimes.” His voice was quieter now, thoughtful. “I don’t miss it. But it’s hard to let go of something that shaped you.”

You nodded, understanding. The past had a way of clinging to people, no matter how far they ran.

He exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head. 

“Steve took to peace like it was always meant for him. I think he’s been waiting for it his whole life. Me…” He trailed off, his lips pressing into a faint line. “I think I’m still figuring it out.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest. He deserved peace just as much as anyone else.

As the music slowed, your hands slid from his shoulders, fingers tracing the length of his arms before settling over his. His grip tightened instinctively like he knew what you were about to say.

“Come home with me.” The words were quiet, tentative, but certain.

Bucky stilled for half a beat, and then his lips parted, his breath warm against your cheek.

“Yes.”

No hesitation. No doubt. Just certainty, as if he had been waiting for you to ask.

—

The door creaked softly as you pushed it open, stepping inside with Bucky close behind you. You moved awkwardly through the space, glancing at the walls, the furniture, anything but him, as though it could distract from the knot forming in your stomach. The house felt both too small and too big now, the empty rooms amplifying the tension in the air.

Bucky stepped in after you, his boots echoing softly on the wooden floor as he glanced around. His gaze lingered on the fire's warm glow in the hearth, he seemed at ease. His eyes scanned every corner of the space, taking in the simple comforts of home. A slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

You shifted nervously, breaking the silence with an anxious laugh. “You don’t actually have to do the full week if you don’t want to... I mean, most people just use it as an excuse to get off work—” Your words stumbled out, and you cut yourself off, realising how ridiculous you probably sounded.

Bucky turned toward you, his eyes dark with amusement but softened with something else, a quiet intensity. He was silent for a long moment, focusing entirely on you. Finally, his lips quirked up, and his voice was low and deliberate.

“Sweetpea, I love the sound of your beautiful voice, but just shut up... and kiss me.”

Before you could respond, his hands were already pulling you close, his mouth slanting over yours in a searing kiss that left no room for hesitation. You melted against him, your body pressing into his with a soft urgency, both of you stumbling as you navigated the space towards the bed. His grip on you was firm and reassuring, yet there was a rawness to it, an unspoken need that made your heart race faster.

You fumbled through the room together, bumping into furniture. Your hands sought purchase on his broad chest or tangled in his hair as you kissed desperately, blindly. The dim light from the hearth barely illuminated the path ahead. His lips were warm and hungry, pulling at yours with an intensity that made your pulse spike.

There was a quiet reassurance in how his hands roamed over your body, the steady pressure of his touch as though he wanted to anchor you in the here and now. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t treating this like a fleeting moment. You laughed softly against his lips as you stumbled into the bed, falling together in a tangled heap of limbs and tangled sheets. For a moment, all that mattered was the warmth of his skin against yours, the unspoken understanding that this was something different, something real. 

Something that could last.

[literaryavenger]

Obsessed

Summary: Your crush on Bucky may be getting out of control.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Warnings: Dramatic Reader. Language. Angst. Fluff. My poor attempts at being Funny.

Word Count: 1.4K I'm physically incapable of making anything short.

A/N: I wrote this in like 2 hours and I don't even know what this is, just... Yeah.

Masterlist

This is terrible.

This is the worst thing that's ever happened to you.

This is the worst thing that's ever happened to anyone. It's just the most horrible, dreadful, awful thing that could’ve ever happen to yo-

“Would you stop staring at him for fuck's sakes!” Natasha's hissed words make your eyes snap to her and finally away from the metal armed Supersoldier lifting weights. Shirtless.

You don't know when Bucky stopped feeling self-conscious enough to allow him to workout in nothing but a pair of gym shorts, but it has become literal torture for you.

Needless to say, Bucky's current level of undress is making it impossible for you to concentrate on the stretching you're supposed to be doing before your sparring match with Natasha.

But your very thoughtful and not at all exasperated friend makes sure to keep your attention on her during the entirety of our match by thoroughly kicking your ass.

What a lovely best friend you have.

Anyways.

Your entire mood shifts with one not intentionally overheard conversation. Steve enters the gym and goes straight to Bucky, who was putting his weight set down.

“She’s here!” Is all the blonde says to his friend and your heart stops at the way Bucky’s face lights up with a smile, not needing any more information before following Steve out of the gym.

She’s here? Who the fuck is she? Does Bucky have a girlfriend? And most importantly, she’s here? In the Compound?

Natasha can almost see the gears turning in your brain as you make no attempts to move from the mat after she knocked you on your ass for the hundredth time today. You didn’t even seem to notice her hand offering you help to get up, your eyes still looking where Bucky was just a moment ago, staring at nothing in particular while your brain drowns in your overthinking.

Natasha sighs and decides to end the match here, kneeling down in front of you and placing her hands on your shoulders, shaking you gently to snap you out of it.

“Don’t overthink this.” She tells you when she’s sure she has your attention. “It’s probably just a friend visiting.” She tries to comfort you, but you both know that’s highly unlikely. 

Bucky has no other friends outside the team. He doesn’t know how to talk to civilians anymore after everything he’s been through, and gave up trying to after the hundredth time he saw fear in a person’s eyes just by recognizing him. So his friend circle now includes the team and the agents of SHIELD that are not intimidated by him. Point is, every friend he has already lives in the Compound.

So who the fuck is here just to see him? 

Natasha can see that this is a lost battle, your eyes barely concentrating on her as you start drowning in your mind again. All she can do when you’re like this is try to distract you and keep you out of your head. So she takes your hand and helps you up, leading the way to the common room to watch one of your beloved romcoms together, because that’s how much she loves you.

Big mistake.

“Y/N! Y/N!” The excited high-pitched voice came just seconds after you set foot in the common room. And that’s about the only warning you got before the excited 5-year-old jumped on you, your reflexes thankfully quick enough to catch her.

“Hi, Maguna!” You say while chuckling as the little girl hugs you. “You seem excited today. Did you get into the sugar cabinet again?”

Morgan giggles at your joke and shakes her hand before taking your face in her little hands and dramatically saying, “No! A princess came to visit uncle Bucky! A real princess.”

You frown, confused at what she’s talking about, before you look around the room and finally notice everyone else in it. Pepper and Tony are on the couch, looking at you lovingly as you interact with their daughter.

You love Morgan, she’s like a little sister. You never miss an opportunity to babysit her and you spend as much time with her as you can. She also loves you, out of all the Avengers you’re her favorite, much to everyone’s dismay. She calls them all ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’, but you’re just Y/N. You’re her big sister, you don’t need a title. Which is why you're the only one other than Tony allowed to call her 'Maguna'.

Then you notice the other people in the room: Steve, Bucky and… Shuri. The fucking Princess of Wakanda, standing in the common room of the Avengers Compound and just smiling at you as you carry Morgan.

You’ve never met Shuri, but you know she played an important part in deprogramming the Winter Soldier out of Bucky, and you’re grateful to her for it. She’s important to Bucky, and you can’t believe you forgot Bucky has Wakandan friends.

You put Morgan down on the ground again and the little girl takes your hand and aggressively steers you towards where Steve, Bucky and Shuri are standing, clearly thrilled to be in the presence of a real life princess.

“Hi, I’m Shuri.” She offers you her hand when you get close enough and you shake it with your free hand while introducing yourself.

There’s a bit of an awkward pause and you’re about to say the first thing that pops into your head when Morgan thankfully saves you by pulling on your hand, making you look at her. She tells you to come close and, chuckling, you kneel beside her so she can whisper conspiratorially in your ear.

“She’s a princess and she’s really pretty, but I still like you better.” She whispers and you can’t help but laugh.

God, you love this little girl.

You smile brightly at her and launch a tickle attack, her adorable giggles filling the room as everyone looks at you two with warm smiles.

Your attention is solely on Morgan, until you unintentionally hear the whispered conversation between Shuri and Bucky.

“So, this is the girl, huh? She’s pretty.” Shuri says and your heart skips a beat. 

You glance at them as discreetly as you can while still tickling Morgan, only to find Bucky looking at someone behind you. You turn around less carefully and see Sharon just entered the room, and she's also looking at Bucky with a smirk. You quickly return your attention to Morgan, but your mind is going a thousand miles a minute.

Of course he’d like someone more like Sharon. She’s pretty, she’s talented, she’s a total badass and she’s not afraid to go after what she wants.

She’s not a mass of anxiety in the shape of a woman that overthinks everything and becomes a flustered mess every time she’s even near Bucky.

It’s time to admit it to yourself: Bucky just doesn’t see you like that and you need to move on. 

Natasha is right, your obsession with Bucky needs to end.

What you don’t see is Bucky almost glaring at Sharon because he knows damn well why she’s smirking. She came in just before Shuri whispered to Bucky, when he was very intent on looking at you with heart eyes as you played with Morgan.

Just before you looked at him, Bucky noticed Sharon and he had to hold in a groan at her because he knows that she’s never gonna let him live this down.

Both Sharon and Steve have tried really hard to convince Bucky that you like him back and he should make a move on you. But Bucky, being as stubborn as they come, never believes them.

He obviously makes you uncomfortable, you’re always stuttering when he’s around and you avoid eye contact whenever possible. He’s just glad that you can stand his presence enough for the two of you to work together when necessary and to hang out with the rest of the team without problems.

So he just enjoys looking at you from a distance. He loves watching you play with Morgan and his thoughts always run wild with images of you playing like that with kids that are yours and his.

But he knows that’s never going to happen. Why would you like a damaged, PTSD ridden soldier that can’t even make it through the night without waking up from a nightmare? No, that’s definitely not your type.

Bucky accepts the truth: He doesn’t deserve you and you don’t see him like that anyways. 

It doesn’t matter that Sam thinks he’s obsessed, that won’t stop him from looking at you whenever he’s lucky enough to get a glimpse of his little ray of sunshine.

Requested taglist: @vicmc624 @matchat3a @nerd-without-a-cause @sapphirebarnes @cjand10 @mostlymarvelgirl @julvrs @blackhawkfanatic @lillianacristina @armystay89 @imdoingbetternow @spookyparadisesheep @elizalexwil @aceofhearts25 @dontworryboutitsweetheartxx-blog @justab-eautifulmess @buggy14 @thedonswife13

[cece693]

PART 2 OF THE BUCKYxLOKI’S BROTHER PLEASE!! (And thank you)

He's Cute Pt. 2

pairing: bucky barnes x male reader tags: date night, cute moments between bucky and reader, protective bucky, reader having eyes only for his man, couldn't help myself so we have some jealous bucky

The morning sun cast a warm glow on the bustling New York street as you and Bucky left the Avengers Tower, side by side, for your much-anticipated coffee date. You could practically feel Bucky’s heartbeat thrumming—his energy was a mix of nerves and excitement, hidden behind a carefully maintained cool exterior.

Still, you caught the way he’d sneak glances at you, how he kept a polite but protective distance between you and the street, and how his hand hovered near the small of your back whenever you paused to look in a shop window. If there was one thing you’d learned about James “Bucky” Barnes, it was that beneath the stoic shell, he was a sweet, attentive soul.

When you reached the little coffee shop a few blocks away, the sweet aroma of espresso and baked goods made you inhale appreciatively. Bucky let you step in first, his eyes still straying to you while you gawked at the menu board.

“Wow,” you murmured, half to yourself. “So many options. Mocha latte, flat white, salted caramel… Are these incantations?”

Bucky suppressed a grin, remembering the first time you’d asked that. “No magic, promise,” he said, nudging your shoulder gently. “What are you in the mood for?”

Before you could answer, the barista—a cheerful guy in his mid-twenties with a neat man-bun and bright green apron—leaned over the counter, practically beaming at you. “Hey there! First time, huh? Don’t worry, I can help you pick the perfect drink,” he offered, sliding an elbow onto the counter in a move that was definitely meant to come off as suave.

You blinked, oblivious to the barista’s flirty smile. “That’s kind of you,” you said politely. “I’ve only tried a couple coffees so far.”

“Awesome,” the barista replied, eyes dancing with interest. “You should let me whip up a custom latte just for you. Something sweet, with a little extra foam on top, maybe a heart design…”

Bucky cleared his throat, stepping forward so that his broad shoulder was just enough in the barista’s line of sight to cut off the direct gaze. “He’ll have a caramel macchiato,” Bucky said firmly, voice low in a way that suggested the barista hurry it up. “And I’ll take a black coffee.”

The barista’s smile faltered, eyeing Bucky with a mix of confusion and polite fear. “Sure thing.”

As the barista fiddled with the espresso machine, you turned to Bucky, eyes sparkling. “I didn’t realize there were so many specialized drinks. Custom lattes?”

Bucky’s jaw unclenched, and he mustered a small, reassuring smile for you. “Yeah, they get creative. But trust me, you’ll like the macchiato.”

Once you two collected your drinks, you picked out a cozy table near the window. The morning light bathed you in a soft glow that made your hair look��well, downright ethereal, if Bucky were being honest. And from the corner of his eye, he noticed more than one patron shooting glances your way.

You sipped your caramel macchiato, eyes lighting up at the sweet, creamy flavor. “This is wonderful!”

Bucky felt a surge of pride, as if he’d personally crafted the drink. “Glad you like it,” he said, resisting the urge to reach out and brush his fingers across your knuckles. Before the conversation could deepen, another interruption arrived—this time a fellow customer who lingered by the pastry display, giving you a once-over before sauntering over.

“Good morning,” she said, flipping her hair with a practiced flourish. “I haven't seen you here before."

You, perpetually polite, offered a friendly nod. “Yes, I’m new to Midg—New York. It’s very different from home.”

She giggled, eyes trailing over your features. “Well, if you need a local guide, I live right around the corner.” She lowered her voice, leaning in conspiratorially, “And I know all the best spots.”

Your eyebrows lifted in genuine curiosity. “Really? That sounds interesting.”

Bucky’s grip on his coffee cup tightened until his knuckles turned white. He cleared his throat, but she didn’t budge—she seemed more than happy to ignore him entirely, focusing on you like a hawk. “Yeah,” she continued. “I could show you a real good time. How about—”

“He’s good,” Bucky cut in, voice dangerously soft. He stared her down, his intense blue eyes flicking to her face with a distinct warning.

She blinked, finally noticing the murderously protective glint in his gaze. “Oh—are you two…?”

“Yes,” Bucky said bluntly, not even letting the question hang.

You, still oblivious, looked between them. “We’re on a date,” you added helpfully, as though trying to clarify.

The woman looked between you, Bucky, and his metal arm resting on the table. An awkward laugh escaped her. “My mistake. Enjoy your coffee.” She walked off, adjusting her purse with forced nonchalance.

As soon as she was gone, you turned back to Bucky, your expression perplexed. “She was hitting on me, right? Is that like a phrase, ‘hitting on someone?’ Because you said—”

“Yeah,” Bucky confirmed, irritation still simmering just behind his calm veneer. “She was.”

“Oh,” you murmured, taking another sip of your drink. “Well, that’s not a problem, is it? I mean, people here are friendly…”

Bucky exhaled heavily, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. He reached across the table, lightly brushing the back of your hand. “You’re too nice for your own good,” he said softly. “Just...it gets on my nerves when strangers try to pick you up right in front of me.”

Understanding dawned on you, and your eyes softened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He shook his head, giving a dismissive little shrug. “Not your fault at all. I just…might have a jealous streak, I guess.”

A warm smile curved your lips. “That’s kind of sweet. In a protective way.”

Your words made him relax, and he actually managed a genuine, sheepish grin. “Glad you think so.”

With the interlopers gone, you and Bucky finally got some quieter moments. You asked him about the differences between the 1940s and modern times—he gave you quick anecdotes about old radio shows, dime coffees, and awkward attempts to use smartphones now. In return, you regaled him with tales of Asgard—though you stuck to the less epic parts, not wanting to overshadow the mundane joy of a simple coffee date.

Sometimes Bucky would reach out and tap the rim of your cup with his vibranium fingers, almost like he wanted an excuse to brush against your hand. More than once, your gentle laughter made him forget the rest of the café altogether. That is, until your phone chimed with a text—a reminder from Tony about some meeting in a couple of hours.

“Guess we need to head back soon?” Bucky asked, trying and failing to hide his disappointment.

You nodded regretfully, finishing the last sweet sip of your drink. “Seems so. We can’t exactly ditch the meeting, can we? Tony would… he’d probably show up here with an Iron Man suit,” you joked.

Bucky gave a small smirk. “He’s petty like that.”

With some reluctance, you both stood, disposing of your cups and stepping out into the warm late-morning air. The short walk back to Avengers Tower was surprisingly pleasant, even with the occasional sideways glances from passersby who recognized one of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Bucky kept close to you, occasionally brushing his shoulder against yours, as if to remind everyone this is my date.

The moment you stepped through the Tower doors, though, you found yourselves ambushed by the rest of the team loitering in the lobby—clearly waiting. Tony, arms crossed over his chest, grinned like a cat who caught the canary. Steve, Sam, Clint, and Natasha stood behind him in a loose huddle, each wearing various degrees of curiosity and mischief.

“Would you look at that,” Tony drawled, “our resident star-crossed duo has returned.”

Sam smirked. “Didn’t think a simple coffee run would take this long. Or is that code for something else?”

Clint raised an eyebrow suggestively. “‘Coffee run?’ That’s a new one.”

Bucky glowered at them, ears turning pink. “It was just coffee. And we walked.”

“Walked,” Tony echoed, lips twisting in an exaggerated pout. “Uh-huh, I’m sure.”

You, still glowing from the morning’s events, decided to speak up. “There was coffee, yes, and a few people...tried to start a conversation.”

Natasha picked up on your hint of confusion. “Tried to start a conversation? That’s a polite way of saying they were hitting on you in front of Bucky?”

You nodded earnestly, unwittingly dropping the bomb the team was waiting for. “Yes, actually! Twice, in fact. Bucky was not pleased.”

A collective gasp and a few stifled laughs rippled through the group. Sam hooted, patting Bucky’s shoulder. “Oh man, did you go all Winter Soldier on them? Metal arm intimidation?”

Bucky shrugged off Sam’s hand, trying to maintain dignity. “I just told them to buzz off. That’s all.”

Tony snickered. “I can see it now: ‘Move along, buddy, or you’ll be meeting Mr. Vibranium.’”

Steve, at least, tried to look sympathetic. “Glad it went okay, though. The date, I mean.”

“It was nice,” you said, the corners of your mouth lifting in a sincere smile. “Very…sweet.” You turned to Bucky, stepping closer. “Thank you for showing me more of Midgard’s culture.”

Before Bucky could form a reply, you leaned in and planted a quick, affectionate kiss on his cheek. The lobby erupted in whoops and cackles. Sam feigned swooning against Clint, who patted his forehead dramatically. Tony cupped a hand to his ear as though straining to hear wedding bells. Bucky froze, eyes going wide, heat rushing to his face. But the grin that broke out was nothing short of radiant.

“Oh, that’s how it is, huh?” Tony teased, crossing his arms with a smug grin. “Looks like we’re gonna have to start calling you guys ‘Sugar and Spice.’”

Clint made an exaggerated smooching sound. “Or do we call you both ‘Buzz Off!’ and ‘He’s Mine!’”

Bucky grumbled something incoherent, but he still looked over at you with soft eyes that said he didn’t regret a thing.

[amethystarachnid]

Omg, Secret Admirer with Tony as a normal request??? This is soooo him 💕💕💕

SECRET ADMIRER

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

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

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff, romance, rom-com

ᯓ★ Word count: 5.1k

ᯓ★ Summary: where Tony realizes he sucks at being a secret admirer

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing I think, just a little spicy scene at the end

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

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

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

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

There’s a knock at your apartment door just as you’re finishing up your evening tea. You frown, glancing at the clock. It’s well past eight, and you aren’t expecting anyone. Setting your mug down, you make your way to the door, hesitating for only a moment before unlocking it and peeking outside.

A deliveryman stands in the hallway, holding a large bouquet of roses wrapped in elegant cream-colored paper. The vibrant red petals contrast sharply against the neutral tones of your apartment complex, and for a second, you just stare.

“Delivery for Y/N Y/L/N,” the man says with a friendly nod, holding out the bouquet.

“I didn’t order any flowers,” you say slowly, though you take them from him anyway. The arrangement is heavy in your arms, the scent intoxicating.

“They’re already paid for,” he assures you. “Enjoy your night, ma’am.” And with that, he turns and leaves.

You step back inside, kicking the door shut with your foot as you turn the bouquet in your hands. Nestled among the roses is a small, simple card. You pluck it free, heart beating just a little faster than usual.

For someone who deserves to be admired from afar.

That’s it. No signature, no indication of who sent them.

You blink at the words, reading them over once, then again. A secret admirer? You almost laugh at the thought. You’re not the kind of person who receives anonymous flowers on a random Tuesday evening. You work for one of the busiest, most brilliant men in the world, and between handling Stark Industries' never-ending demands, you barely have time to think about your own personal life, let alone some mysterious admirer.

But the flowers are beautiful. The kind of expensive, expertly arranged bouquet that couldn’t have come from just anywhere. And there’s a part of you that—while hesitant, while skeptical—can’t help but be a little flattered.

The next morning, you bring them to your office. You tell yourself it’s just practical; they’re too beautiful to leave wilting at home, and your desk could use a little brightness. You set them near the edge of your desk, where the rich red petals can catch the sunlight streaming in from the floor-to-ceiling windows.

When Tony Stark walks in, his reaction is immediate. His dark eyes lock onto the roses before he even glances at you.

“Wow,” he says, sauntering over. “What’s the occasion? Are we celebrating something? Did I miss your birthday? Because if I did, let me know so I can send you something even more extravagant to make up for it.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s not my birthday. And they were a gift.”

Tony leans in, hands in his pockets, tilting his head as he inspects the bouquet like it might hold the answer to some unsolved equation. “From who?”

You let out a small, amused scoff. “I don’t know. They came with a note, but no name.”

His expression doesn’t change, but you swear there’s a flicker of something in his eyes. “A secret admirer? Now that’s intriguing.” He straightens up and looks at you, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You have a stalker, Y/N. Should I be concerned?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Highly doubtful. Probably just some silly office prank. Or maybe a mistake.”

“A mistake?” Tony repeats, clearly unimpressed with your theory. “Right. Because people mistakenly send ridiculously expensive flower arrangements to someone’s exact home address all the time.”

You shrug. “Maybe it was meant for the apartment next door.”

He makes a thoughtful sound, then leans one elbow on your desk, still fixated on the roses. “So you’re telling me that some guy out there—some hopeless romantic with, let’s be honest, impeccable taste—sent these to you, and you’re just gonna write it off as a coincidence?”

You shoot him a pointed look. “I don’t have time for mysteries, Tony. Unlike you, I actually have to focus at work.”

Tony places a hand on his chest, feigning offense. “Hey, I focus. I’m very focused. In fact, right now, I’m focused on finding out who’s trying to woo my assistant behind my back.”

You roll your eyes again, but this time there’s a smile threatening at the corners of your lips. “I think I’ll survive without knowing, Stark. Now, do you have any actual work for me, or did you just come here to interrogate me about my very mysterious, very unexpected flowers?”

He sighs dramatically. “Fine, fine. We’ll get back to the pressing matters of corporate chaos and world-changing tech. But mark my words,” he says, pointing at you as he backs toward the door. “I’m onto this. Secret admirer, if you’re out there, know that Tony Stark is watching you.”

With that, he disappears down the hall.

You shake your head, exhaling a small laugh. If you didn’t know better, you’d think Tony was actually jealous.

But that would be ridiculous.

Right?

Tony strides into his office and immediately shuts the door behind him, pressing his back against it like he just escaped a high-stakes mission. His heart is hammering against his ribs, which is insane because he’s Tony Freaking Stark. He does not get nervous. Not when presenting game-changing tech to a room full of world leaders. Not when wearing a billion-dollar suit and dodging missiles. Not even when facing off against gods or aliens.

But apparently, when it comes to you and flowers, his composure is about as solid as a wet paper bag.

“Okay,” he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair as he paces toward his desk. “Okay, okay, okay. No big deal. Play it cool. She has no idea.”

He plops down in his chair, spinning once before slamming his hands down on his desk dramatically. His AI assistant, FRIDAY, chimes in with her usual calm efficiency.

“Sir, would you like me to schedule your—”

“FRIDAY, emergency situation,” he interrupts, leaning forward and lacing his fingers together like he’s about to broker a multi-billion-dollar deal. “Give me a full diagnostic of Y/N’s reaction to The Flowers.”

A brief silence. Then, “Sir, I do not have access to the depths of human emotion. However, I can confirm that she smiled.”

Tony’s hands slam onto his desk again. “YES.” He punches the air, rolling backward in his chair with an overzealous victory spin before suddenly halting. “Wait. How big was the smile? Are we talking polite ‘oh-this-is-nice’ smile, or was it, like, melted butter on a stack of pancakes smile?”

“I would classify it as a pleased smile, sir.”

He groans, slumping in his chair. “Not enough. It has to be more. I spent an unreasonable amount of money on those roses—do you know how hard it was to find a florist who could arrange them just right and deliver them exactly on time without looking suspicious?”

“I do. I processed the payments.”

“Right. And now she thinks it’s a mistake.” He drags his hands down his face. “A mistake, FRIDAY. A coincidence. She thinks some random Romeo accidentally sent her flowers instead of realizing they came from me, the actual genius mastermind behind the whole thing.”

“Would you like me to subtly reveal your involvement, sir?”

Tony snaps his fingers. “Yes. No. Wait. No. That’s desperate. I can’t just tell her. I have to be—what’s the word—mysterious. Intriguing. Like a suave, romantic, definitely-not-panicking billionaire.”

“You are currently pacing, sir.”

Tony stops mid-step. “I’m thinking.”

“You are fretting, sir.”

“Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, fair point.” He exhales, tapping his fingers against his chin. “Alright. New plan. I have to escalate. Bigger gesture. Something that makes her really stop and go, ‘Wow, my secret admirer is so thoughtful and attractive and, oh wow, maybe I do have feelings for him after all, what a shocking and unexpected development.’”

“Would you like me to draft a PowerPoint with escalation options?”

Tony blinks. “…You know what? Yes. But make it classy. None of that basic heart-shaped nonsense. I need originality.”

“Understood. Adding ‘romantic strategy’ to your files.”

Tony flops back into his chair, exhaling through his nose as he stares at the ceiling. “God, this was so much easier when I was just secretly pining from a distance.”

There’s a knock at the door.

“Boss?” Happy’s voice calls through the wood. “Why are you talking to yourself?”

Tony jolts upright. “I’m not. I’m talking to FRIDAY.”

“…Which is basically yourself.”

“Semantics, Happy.” Tony clears his throat, quickly swiping at his shirt like he needs to smooth out invisible wrinkles of stress. “Do you need something, or are you just here to judge my very normal and not at all spiraling behavior?”

Happy steps inside, eyeing him like he’s trying to determine if Tony’s having a real crisis or just an emotional one. Considering there are no explosions, it’s probably the latter.

“Just letting you know, Pepper’s on her way up.”

Tony stiffens. “Oh no.”

Happy frowns. “Oh no, what?”

“She knows things, Hap. She has that sixth sense where she looks at me and just knows I’m up to something.”

Happy crosses his arms. “You are up to something.”

“That’s not the point!” Tony hisses, standing and smoothing down his jacket. “The point is, if Pepper finds out, she’s gonna grill me. And then she’s gonna smirk. And then she’s gonna say something vaguely condescending but also supportive, and I cannot deal with that right now.”

Happy just looks at him. “…Dude. Just tell Y/N you like her.”

Tony gasps, appalled. “What? No! Are you insane? That’s crazy. That’s reckless.”

“It’s normal.”

“It’s madness.”

Happy sighs. “You realize you’re a grown man, right?”

“Debatable,” Tony mutters, straightening up just as the elevator doors ping open.

Pepper steps out, and the moment she sees him, she pauses. Her eyes narrow slightly. Tony feels a bead of sweat form at the back of his neck.

“Tony,” she says slowly.

“Pep,” he says casually, leaning on his desk like a guy who definitely isn’t going through an internal meltdown.

She glances between him and Happy, then at the very specific way Tony is standing, and her eyes light up in realization. Oh no.

“Oh my God,” she says, her lips twitching.

“No,” Tony immediately counters, pointing at her. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop.”

Her smirk grows. “It’s about Y/N, isn’t it?”

Tony throws his hands in the air. “God, why am I so predictable?”

Happy raises a hand. “For the record, I didn’t say anything.”

Pepper crosses her arms. “Let me guess. You sent flowers anonymously, and now you’re freaking out about whether or not she liked them?”

Tony points at her again. “See? This is what I’m talking about. The smirk. The knowing. I cannot deal with this.”

Pepper shakes her head, clearly enjoying this way too much. “Tony, she brought them to work. If she didn’t like them, they wouldn’t be sitting on her desk right now.”

Tony freezes. “…Oh my God, you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right.”

His whole body relaxes. Then immediately tenses up again. “But what if she just brought them because she didn’t want them to go to waste? What if it was, like, a casual desk decoration decision and not a romantic appreciation decision?”

Pepper pinches the bridge of her nose. “Tony, you are the smartest person I know, and yet you are so dumb.”

“Hey, rude.”

Pepper sighs. “You need to escalate, right?”

Tony brightens. “Yes.”

She gives him a knowing look. “Then send another gift. Something more specific. Something that says you, but also says, ‘I see you, I appreciate you, and I want to sweep you off your feet.’”

Tony strokes his chin. “You know, you’re kinda good at this.”

Pepper rolls her eyes. “You’re just realizing that now?”

Tony grins. “Alright. Operation ‘Woo Y/N Until She Inevitably Falls for My Irresistible Charm’ is a go.”

Happy groans. Pepper sighs. FRIDAY pings with new strategy options.

Tony? He just smirks. Time to up the stakes.

By the time you finally step out of the elevator onto your floor, your body is practically begging for a warm shower, a comfy set of pajamas, and a night of mindless television. Work was busy, as usual, but for some reason, today left you more drained than expected.

Maybe it was the way Tony seemed to be in a particularly peculiar mood—alternating between his usual self and then randomly staring off into space like he was running some kind of internal diagnostic. It was weird, even for him.

You sigh as you dig your keys out of your bag, already daydreaming about sinking into your couch—until you freeze.

There, sitting right in front of your apartment door, is a small, elegantly wrapped box.

Your heartbeat skips.

It’s not just the box. It’s the deep red ribbon tied into a flawless bow, the delicate paper, the way it’s positioned exactlyin front of your door like it’s waiting for you. And, most noticeably, the letter resting on top of it, your name written in beautiful, looping script.

You glance down the hallway, half-expecting to see someone lurking around a corner, watching to see your reaction. Nothing.

Slowly, you bend down, picking up the package. It’s not too heavy, but it has just enough weight to feel substantial. You hesitate before carefully slipping your finger under the envelope’s flap, breaking the seal. The letter inside is written on high-quality paper, and you run your thumb over it before reading.

Y/N,

I thought about sending flowers again, but that would’ve been repetitive (and I’m many things, but unoriginal isn’t one of them).

You work hard. Too hard. Always running around making sure everything in my world runs smoothly, and I bet by the time you get home, you barely have the energy to do something just for yourself. So, consider this a reminder. Take a break. Indulge a little. Let yourself enjoy something just because you deserve it.

I hope you like it.

—Your Secret Admirer

Your breath catches in your throat.

Your secret admirer.

This is not a coincidence. Not some random mistake. The flowers might have been a fluke, but this? This is deliberate.

You exhale slowly, staring at the letter for a moment longer before carefully folding it back into the envelope. Then, with slightly shaky hands, you pull at the ribbon on the box, letting it unravel like silk between your fingers. The lid lifts easily, revealing a smaller velvet box inside, along with a small note.

You pick up the note first.

For your nights off. (Yes, you’re allowed to have those.)

Frowning slightly, you flip open the velvet box and blink.

A bottle of ridiculously expensive, limited edition dark chocolate liqueur truffles stares back at you, nestled perfectly into the packaging. The kind you’ve only ever seen in high-end stores and never dared to buy for yourself.

Your lips part in shock.

This is not a casual, run-of-the-mill gesture.

Someone—a very specific someone—knows you well enough to pick something so ridiculously tailored to you that it’s impossible to ignore.

Your hands tighten around the box as your mind races. Who? Who?

You step inside your apartment, setting the box down on the kitchen counter as you think.

Your admirer is thoughtful. Observant. They knew about your workload. They knew about your tendency to push yourself too hard. And they knew—somehow—that you have a particular weakness for these chocolates.

Your gaze flickers to the letter again.

That handwriting. The confidence. The slight air of playfulness mixed with genuine care.

It’s familiar. Too familiar.

Your stomach flips.

No.

No, it can’t be.

You press your lips together, heartbeat quickening as one very, very dangerous possibility lodges itself into your brain.

You shake your head quickly.

There’s no way.

Right?

Meanwhile, across the city, Tony Stark is lying on his couch, staring at the ceiling like a man who just realized he may have made the most reckless, insane, brilliant decision of his life.

“She’s going to figure it out.”

“She is not going to figure it out,” he mutters, throwing an arm over his eyes. “She’s way too logical. She’s gonna overanalyze it, then dismiss the obvious answer because I’m me.”

“You did sign the note in a way that heavily implies you’re actively watching over her well-being.”

Tony groans, rolling onto his side. “That’s called thoughtful.”

“That’s called suspicious, sir.”

“…It’s a little suspicious,” he admits, biting his lip. “But, I mean, if she does figure it out—”

“She may confront you.”

Tony’s stomach drops.

“Oh, shit.”

Back at your apartment, you sit cross-legged on your couch, the box of truffles open beside you, letter in one hand, a half-eaten chocolate in the other.

You chew slowly, rolling the flavors over your tongue as your mind keeps circling back to one thing.

Tony.

Because here’s the thing—no one else in your life fits. No one else watches over you that closely. No one else has both the means and the audacity to pull something like this off.

And the handwriting?

You’ve seen it before.

In memos. In sarcastic little notes scribbled in the margins of blueprints. On the occasional post-it left on your desk when he was feeling particularly lazy about emailing.

It’s his.

You rub your temple, torn between disbelief and something warm curling in your stomach.

Tony Stark.

Your boss.

Your genius, billionaire, impossible-to-wrangle boss… is your secret admirer?

You let out a breathless, half-laugh, staring at the letter again.

“Holy shit.”

Your heart does a weird little somersault as you run through every interaction with him over the years.

The long nights working together. The easy banter. The moments where he lingered just a little too long after dropping you off at your apartment, like he wanted to say something but never did. The way he really looked at you sometimes—like you were more than just his secretary.

Had he… had he always felt this way?

And had you been too blind to notice?

You lean back against the couch, fingers tightening around the letter.

This changes everything.

And you have no idea what to do next.

The next morning, you walk into Stark Tower with a plan.

It’s not a great plan—mostly because you’re making it up as you go—but it’s a plan nonetheless.

You want to confirm your theory.

That Tony Stark—your boss, the undeniably attractive, irritatingly brilliant man who’s been in your life for years—is your secret admirer.

And if he is?

Well… you’re not sure what you’ll do with that information just yet.

For now, the priority is simple: get him to slip up.

As you step off the elevator and into your office space, you take a deep breath, schooling your expression into one of casual innocence. The flowers from two days ago are still sitting in a vase on your desk, now accompanied by a small, decorative box filled with yet another gift—this time, a limited edition, leather-bound novel by your favorite author.

At this rate, you’re either being wooed by a very wealthy admirer… or, you know, Tony.

You smooth your hands down your skirt and head straight for his office, knocking once before pushing the door open.

Tony is, predictably, seated behind his desk, feet propped up, a tablet balanced in one hand while the other stirs his coffee lazily. He glances up as you walk in, his expression unreadable.

“Boss,” you greet, giving him a saccharine smile.

He raises a brow. “You’re smiling.”

“I always smile.”

“Not like that.” His eyes narrow slightly. “That’s your I’m up to something smile.”

Your lips twitch. “Oh, please. Maybe I’m just in a really good mood.”

His gaze flickers briefly to the flowers still sitting on your desk before returning to you. “Must be some damn good mood.”

You step closer, stopping in front of his desk, tilting your head slightly. “You know, Tony, I was thinking…” You place your hands on the edge of his desk and lean in just a fraction. “It’s so interesting that these gifts keep showing up at my apartment.”

His grip on the tablet tightens slightly.

“Yeah?” he says, far too casual. “Maybe you’ve got an obsessed fan. Should I be screening your calls?”

You let out a soft hum. “Could be that. Or… it could be someone closer.”

Tony doesn’t even blink. “Like who?”

You study him for a moment, searching for any tell. He’s good—too good. But you know him well enough to recognize when he’s pretending not to care.

So you go in for the kill.

“You know,” you say airily, “the handwriting on the notes looks really familiar.”

His smirk falters just slightly.

Gotcha.

“Huh,” he says after a pause. “Weird. Maybe you’ve just seen it somewhere before.”

“Oh, I know I have.” You tap your chin. “It kind of reminds me of your handwriting, actually.”

There it is. The smallest twitch of his eyebrow.

You grin.

Tony narrows his eyes. “Are you accusing me of being your secret admirer?”

You shrug, feigning innocence. “I dunno, boss. Are you?”

His mouth opens—then closes. He shifts in his chair, reaching for his coffee in a way that is way too deliberate.

“I mean,” he says, taking a slow sip, “I would make a great secret admirer. Handsome. Charming. Generous.” He sets the mug down. “But I think I’d be a little more creative.”

Your stomach flutters despite yourself.

Damn it.

This is dangerous.

You straighten, giving him an amused look. “Well, whoever it is, they’ve got exquisite taste.”

Tony makes a small noise in the back of his throat. “Yeah, well. Guess you’ll just have to keep investigating, Sherlock.”

Oh, you will.

The gifts don’t stop.

Every day, something new arrives at your apartment.

A silk scarf in your favorite color. A playlist delivered on an old-school vinyl, filled with songs you know Tony listens to in the lab. A box of artisanal tea that happens to be the exact blend you make during late nights at work.

It’s almost comical at this point.

But more than that, it’s… intimate.

These aren’t grand, over-the-top displays of wealth. They’re thoughtful. Personal.

It’s making your heart race in ways you really don’t want to unpack right now.

And the worst part?

You’re starting to see Tony differently.

Or maybe, you’re just allowing yourself to really see him for the first time.

The way he remembers the smallest things about you. The way he watches you when he thinks you’re not looking. The way his entire face softens when you laugh.

It’s messing with your head.

And your heart.

You need to get to the bottom of this before you lose your mind entirely.

The next morning, you walk into Tony’s office with a very specific mission.

You shut the door behind you and lean against it, arms crossed.

Tony glances up from his desk. “Well, that’s ominous.”

You don’t respond right away. Instead, you pull something out of your bag—a note. One of the ones that came with your latest gift.

You hold it up. “Boss,” you say sweetly. “Care to explain why your handwriting is all over this?”

Tony freezes.

For one glorious second, he actually looks busted.

Then, like the absolute menace he is, he just leans back in his chair and smirks.

“You got proof, sweetheart?”

Your eye twitches. “You really wanna play that game?”

He shrugs. “If the shoe fits.”

You huff, stepping forward, slapping the note down on his desk. “Tony. This is your handwriting.”

His lips twitch, but he still manages to keep his voice even. “Maybe I’ve got a copycat.”

You gape at him. “A copycat? Oh my God, you are infuriating.”

“Sexy and infuriating,” he corrects, grinning.

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. “So that’s how we’re playing it, huh?”

He winks. “Wouldn’t be any fun if I just admitted it, now would it?”

You narrow your eyes. He thinks he’s so clever.

Fine.

You’ll just have to beat him at his own game.

The rest of the day is war.

You drop subtle little comments just to mess with him.

“Oh, I just love a man who remembers the little things.”

Tony doesn’t flinch.

“I think handwriting analysis is so interesting.”

Still no reaction.

“If I ever had a secret admirer, I’d definitely want them to just admit it.”

Nothing.

Damn it. He’s good.

But so are you.

You walk by his desk and casually drop a file—along with one of his notes. “Oh,” you say innocently. “This accidentally got mixed in.”

Tony just smirks. “Huh. Weird.”

You resist the urge to scream.

Fine.

If he won’t crack…

You’ll make him sweat.

That night, you send him a note.

It’s simple. Direct.

So, Mr. Stark… how long are we going to keep pretending?

The next morning, you walk into work, completely prepared for a counterattack.

But the second you step into your office, you see it.

A small gift box on your desk.

And beside it?

A handwritten note, in very familiar script.

Your breath catches as you pick it up, scanning the words.

Guess the game’s over, sweetheart.

Your pulse races.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Here's the next part of your story, full of tension, humor, and chaos!

Just as you’re processing Tony’s note, your office phone rings.

You know who it is before you even pick up.

“Boss,” you answer, voice carefully neutral.

“Sweetheart.” The smugness in his voice is infuriating. “Got a minute?”

You exhale sharply. “Do I have a choice?”

“Not really,” he admits cheerfully. “My office. Now.”

The line clicks dead.

You stare at the receiver for a moment before slamming it down with a groan.

Damn him.

Damn his arrogant, stupid, irresistible—

You shake your head. Nope. You’re not going there.

You grab the note from your desk, take a deep breath, and march straight into his office.

The second you step inside, Tony wordlessly presses a button, and the door clicks shut behind you.

Your stomach flips.

“Closed door meeting?” you muse, crossing your arms. “Sounds serious.”

Tony leans back in his chair, watching you with that insufferable smirk.

“Serious topic,” he agrees. “So, let’s talk.”

You arch a brow. “Oh, now you want to talk?”

“Hey, I love talking,” he says, spreading his hands. “I just prefer it when I’m winning.”

You scoff. “Well, I definitely won this round.”

Tony sighs dramatically. “Yeah, yeah. Fine. You got me.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then, softer—almost hesitant:

“Was kinda hoping you’d like it.”

Your breath catches.

Oh.

You weren’t expecting that.

Something shifts in the air between you—something dangerous.

Your grip tightens on the note in your hand. “You mean… you were hoping I’d like getting gifts from a mystery admirer?”

Tony’s eyes lock onto yours, serious now. “No.” A pause. “I was hoping you’d like getting them from me.”

Your heart stumbles over itself.

Damn it.

Damn him.

You’re screwed.

Because the way he’s looking at you—hopeful, a little nervous, completely unlike the Tony Stark you’re used to—it’s doing something to you.

And worse?

You like it.

“You’re quiet,” Tony murmurs, voice lower now. “That’s terrifying.”

You let out a breathless laugh, but it comes out shaky. “I’m just…” You trail off, gripping the edge of his desk. “Processing.”

Tony tilts his head. “And?”

You glance at the note still clutched in your hand. “And… I think you really suck at being subtle.”

Tony grins. “Guilty.”

You shake your head, biting your lip. “I mean, God, Tony. The vinyl? The tea? Who else would know all that about me?”

His smirk softens. “Guess I pay attention.”

Your stomach flips again.

Oh, this is bad.

This is so bad.

Because suddenly, you’re seeing all the little things he does in a brand-new light.

How he always makes sure you eat when you’re working late. How he instinctively moves you out of the way of danger—even if it’s just a rolling chair in the lab. How he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

Your fingers tighten on his desk.

And then—before you can talk yourself out of it—

You kiss him.

Tony barely has time to react before you’re pressing forward, hands gripping the lapels of his jacket, mouth crashing against his.

For a split second, he freezes.

Then, with a sharp inhale, he kisses you back.

And holy shit, does he kiss.

It’s messy and desperate, all tongue and heat, like he’s been dying to do this for years.

You barely register him pulling you closer until you’re practically in his lap, his hands gripping your waist like he can’t stand the idea of letting go.

You make a sound against his mouth—a noise somewhere between a sigh and a gasp—and he growls, deep in his throat.

The sound shoots straight through you.

Oh, you’re so gone for him.

Somehow, you end up being lifted onto his desk, legs bracketing his waist. His hands slide down, fingers pressing into your thighs, and your head spins.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your lips. “I’ll stop.”

You breathe heavily, forehead resting against his. “I don’t want you to stop.”

That’s all he needs.

Tony surges forward, his mouth hot and insistent against yours, his hands—

Knock knock knock.

Both of you freeze.

You pull back, breathless. “Are you kidding me?”

Tony squeezes his eyes shut, muttering something under his breath before letting out a long, pained sigh.

“Not now,” he groans.

The knock comes again, more insistent.

You stare at each other for a beat, both of you very aware of how utterly wrecked you both look.

Tony exhales sharply, then presses a quick, frustrated kiss to your forehead before pulling away.

“Whoever this is,” he mutters, straightening his jacket, “is getting fired.”

You stifle a laugh, slipping off his desk, quickly fixing your own appearance.

Tony presses the intercom button. “What?”

There’s a long pause.

Then—

“Uh… boss?” It’s Happy’s voice. “Are you—? Is everything—?”

“Yes, everything is fine,” Tony snaps. “What do you want?”

Happy hesitates. “Uh. You said you needed a briefing on the—”

“I don’t need a briefing,” Tony interrupts. “I need privacy.”

Another pause.

Then, suspiciously: “Why do you sound out of breath?”

You choke.

Tony grits his teeth. “Because I was working out.”

Happy is silent for a long moment. Then:

“…You never work out.”

Tony glares at the intercom. “Well, maybe I started.”

You bite your lip, trying so hard not to laugh.

Happy, wisely, doesn’t push it. “Uh. Right. I’ll, uh… come back later.”

The intercom clicks off.

Tony exhales, rubbing a hand down his face before turning to you.

Then, like the absolute lunatic he is, he presses a button on his desk.

“FRIDAY,” he says, voice still slightly breathless, “from now on, I want a ten-minute warning before anyone comes near this office.”

FRIDAY’s voice hums to life. “Understood, boss.”

You snort. “Really?”

Tony turns back to you, grinning. “Oh, absolutely.”

Then he steps closer, hands settling on your waist, eyes dark with mischief.

“Now, where were we?”

[imtryingbuck]

He doesn’t know.

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Tony Stark x fem!Reader

Summary: You and Tony date until he breaks your heart, he soon regrets it.

Word count: 1,800

Warnings: angst. cheating (sorry). Tony’s 40 readers 28. Swearing. pepper is terrible (sorry) mentions of miscarriage.

Masterlist

You had been dating Tony for the past three years, you met when he bumped into you in the restaurant you worked at. The air was knocked out of the both of you, you not only because you hadn’t expected to be nearly knocked down on your ass or the feeling of a strong arm wrapping themselves around your waist just before you hit the ground. Him because he wasn’t expecting to knock into the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on.

From that day on Tony came into the restaurant just to see you, spending money on food he didn’t eat sometimes he would just sit at the bar and talk to you if you were manning it.

Six months after your initial meeting he asked you out even though there was an age difference between the pair of you, you said yes.

Everyday since you two were dating was different, he spoiled you to no end from expensive gifts to lavish trips to beautiful places. The love you two shared was something you never experienced before, it was pure. It was genuine.

You had never been happier.

For the past five months Tony was becoming distant from you, he was always working on projects that he never let you in on which you understood, you didn’t need to know the ins and outs of his business. Whenever you were lucky enough to spend time with him he was on his phone texting. When he came home from work he would go straight into the bathroom and you’d be lying in bed hearing the shower running.

For five months you tried and tried to get him to slow his work schedule down worried for what it was going to do with his health but all he replied with was yeah I will, but it never happened.

Today was your four year anniversary and since he hadn’t said anything about what you two would be doing you had decided that you’d surprise him at work with a home cooked meal since you knew he wouldn’t leave to go to a restaurant as work was too busy. Hopefully he could spare thirty minutes of his time to spend with you. It was your anniversary after all.

Getting out of the car you walked into the tower, greeting the receptionist with a smile receiving one in return you go into the elevator. The higher the box went up the worse your nerves got.

It’s just Tony, you thought to yourself.

Once the door opened you looked around to see any of the hero’s you had become friends with in the now four years you had been with Tony but you couldn’t find anyone so you headed straight to Tony’s office. Knocking on the door twice you opened the door.

And that’s where everything that had been happening in the past five months where Tony had been acting strange and distant had all made sense.

The man you was in love with, the man you stood by when everyone slated him, the man that defended you publicly when you was being called a gold digger, the man who has now officially broke your heart.

That man was sitting on the couch in his office with a blonde woman sat on his lap. Lips locked together. Her shirt on the floor. His hands roaming her torso.

“This looks bad...”

That’s all what the man who you have loved for four years, the man who you have just caught cheating on you, said when he heard you drop the containers off food on the floor.

“What is it babe? Oh it’s you” the blonde said when he pulled away from her, she saw where he was looking so she turned to face you.

Your heart dropped.

It was Pepper.

With your eyes fixed on his you stumbled backwards knocking into the door frame on your way out. Turning around you walked as fast as your legs could carry you back to the elevator, with every step you took you could hear Tony behind you.

“Y/n. Y/n, baby slow down. Please just wait” thanks to the wait of the elevator he managed to catch up to you.

“Baby it-it’s not what-“

“How long?”

His heart clenched painfully at the way your voice sounded so small, seeing the way you flinched at him touching you crushed him. Tony knew that he only had himself to blame. He also knew he was going to have to tell you the truth, knowing for a fact that you were going to be leaving him forever when he told you broke his heart.

“Y/n-“

“How long”

“S-six mo-months” Tony’s stomach sunk when he saw your hand go flying to cover your mouth, hearing a muffled sob coming from you.

“W-why?”

“Y/n-“

“Why. Why Tony?”

“I-I-I…I don’t know”

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know why he’s been cheating on you for the past six months. He doesn’t know why he’s cheated on you and thrown your three years relationship down the drain.

He doesn’t even have an answer to give you for breaking your heart into millions of pieces.

“Wasn’t-“ No. No you wasn’t going to ask that. No way was you going to ask the cheater ‘wasn’t I good enough’ or ‘what did I do wrong’. He was the one that cheated, not you. No way was you going to ask all the questions that you wanted to ask because he simply did not know why he had been cheating on you for the past six months with his assistant.

The same assistant that knew you two were dating.

“Y/n baby please-“

“Babe have you told her?” Pepper’s voice cut him off this time.

Tony’s eyes went straight to his shoes finding it easier for him to shake his head without looking at you.

“To-told me what?”

What could be worse than finding out that your boyfriend had been cheating on you for six months?

“I’m pregnant! We’re going to have a baby” 

That’ll do it. That was worse.

You and Tony agreed that you’d both start trying to get pregnant when you celebrated your three year anniversary. It just wasn’t working but you kept trying. Until eight months ago. You found out you was pregnant, the way Tony’s face lit up with tears streaming down his cheeks when you told him he was going to be a father engrained it’s self into your memory.

A month after that happy day you woke up to cramps in your stomach, Tony rushed you to the hospital where they told you that you had lost baby Stark.

Maybe that’s what drove him into the arms of another woman. A woman who was the same age as him. A woman that could give him what he’s always wanted.

A woman that simply wasn’t you.

“D-do you love her?”

Tony frowned at the question, he expected you to call him names or something. He expected you to tell him that he was worse than the devil himself but no, no you asked him if he loved Pepper.

“Y-yes”

“I-I wish you two t-the best.” Tony’s sad eyes filled with tears, the itch to ask him why he was sad for gnawed at you, Pepper looked smug.

Turning to Pepper you looked her in the eyes “you know the saying don’t you? What they do with you…they do on you”

You were rather proud of the fact that you didn’t stutter when looking at the woman who was sleeping with your boyfriend. Seeing her smug smile drop when she understood what you were implying turned your pain into satisfaction.

“Y/n?”

“Hel-hi Tony”

“I knew that was you, hi”

It’s been six years since you last saw Tony, a year after leaving you met a divorcee a few months after moving to a new town. Things moved quickly between the pair of you, a year after meeting him he proposed, a month later you were married, eight months later you gave birth to your daughter. Finding yourself pregnant four months after giving birth to Ali, several months afterwards you gave birth to twin boys Harvey and Jackson.

“Hi Tony. What are you doing here?”

Here being in the town you lived in with your family, here being in the car park of target.

“We had a mission just dropping off for some food, what about you?”

“I live here”

“Oh, so how have you been?”

“Fine. What about you?”

“Fine. Fine. I-I messed up Y/n/n badly! Turned out that the baby wasn’t mine an-and I’ve been trying to find yo-“

“Momma!” You turned around to find Ali running at you full speed, her pigtails flailing around as she got closer to you.

“Momma? Y/n is she mine?”

“No-“ you had to laugh at his question. Luckily he hadn’t touched you in them five months of him cheating on you, it was impossible for him to be the dad of your beautiful baby girl. “No she’s my husbands”

“H-husband?” Tony stuttered, eyes going straight to your ring finger. Heart sinking when he found a shiny diamond ring sitting there.

“That would be me, nice to meet a friend of Y/n’s. Baby the twins made me get them a new toy”

“Made you? Your an adult, they are only children”

“They’re scary babe”

Tony stood there awkwardly watching the interaction between the woman who he has never stopped loving, and her husband.

“T-twins? You have three kids?”

“Yeah, they practically run the house. Always outnumbered with the three little rascals” your husband said smiling proudly. “Oh by the way I’m Andy, nice to meet you.”

“Tony”

“Yeah I know who you are. Come on baby we need to get going home” Tony didn’t like the way Andy’s voice was towards him.

“Coming love. It was nice seeing you Tony, I’m sorry about the baby. I wish you nothing but happiness, goodbye”

You didn’t even let him say anything back to you before you took Andy’s waiting hand as he had Ali in his other arm.

Getting into the car with your husband after he got Ali into her car seat, you smiled at the twins and Jacob - your stepson - then at your husband.

After finding out about Tony’s betrayal you thought you would never find love and happiness again but life lead you to Andy, the man who made you feel loved more than Tony ever did. Andy made you feel happier more than Tony ever did.

“Let’s go home”

As your family’s car pulled out of the parking lot Tony’s eyes never left the vehicle.

He had lost his everything the moment he let Pepper kiss him that first time. Now six years on he had truly lost his world to another man.

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

[creative-caramel-coffee]

The Spiders Sister - Chapter 3

Summary: Reader meets the team.

Tw: mentions of sickness, teasing

Words: 2.8K

A/n: Thanks for all the support this series has been getting :) If anyone has any suggestions for things that could happen in this series lemme know and I’ll see what I think. No smut though I don’t write that here.

The next day you woke to knocking on the bedroom door. Sitting up in bed you quietly called for whoever it was to enter.

A moment later Wanda poked her head through the door. Seeing you awake or at least semi-awake she slipped through the small space she had created.

“Good morning.” She smiled coming to sit beside you on the bed. “Did you sleep well?” She asked pressed her hand to your forehead.

“Mmm.” You hummed still half asleep.

“You don’t feel warm anymore.” She smiled at this achievement as if she was proud of you. “How are you feeling today?” She asked moving her hands to rest in her lap again.

“Tired, but that’s probably because I just woke up.” You smiled.

“Nat sent me to wake you up. She wanted to know if your well enough to meet the others today.” Wanda explained looking slightly guilty.

“I mean, I’m game if you are. Where’s Nat?” You asked coving a yawn.

“Nat’s training with steve. And not so fast, I want to know more about how you're feeling. No more headache? Cough? Wheezing? Give me something.” She grinned.

“My headaches gone, no more cough, maybe a slight wheeze I’m not too sure.” You begun and Wanda’s brow furrowed slightly at the mention of your wheezing. “I’m like ninety-nine percent sure my fever is gone, and I feel pretty good all things aside.” You finished.

“That’s good. Maybe keep your inhaler on you today just in case. And after the meeting I’ll see if I can get Bruce to give us a few spares, just in case.” Wanda said softly.

“You really don’t have to.” You said shyly toying with a loose thread on the sheets.

“Its no problem. I would make me feel better. Breathing is important.” Wanda teased easing your concerns.

“So, when’s the meeting?” You asked.

“Well, I think Nat wanted to do it as soon as possible. Like straight after training and then I’m going to make you some pancakes for brunch.” Wanda said poking your side. “But for now, hop up, get dressed and I’ll be back soon to show you where the meeting room is.” Wanda said, standing up and heading for the door.

Once wanda had left, probably to go and find Nat to call the meeting, you crawled out of bed. Rifling through your backpack you changed out your sleepshirt and shorts for a pair of black track pants and a pale-yellow t-shirt. Throwing on some goofy socks and lacing up your black converse high tops you braided your hair sat in front of the mirror and threw on some deodorant.

Once you were ready and had been to the bathroom to wash your face and go through your morning routine, you sat at peters desk.

Picking up your backpack you went through it until finding what you were looking for.

Pulling out the black sketchbook you opened it to a fresh page and began mindlessly doodling things you could see around peters room and the cityscape beyond the open curtains.

Just as you were getting into the details of the New York skyline you heard a knock on the door.

Lowering your pencil, you sat a little straighter.

“Come in.” You called your voice sounding better than it had in days. And surprisingly good for someone who had spent hours coughing and wheezing for days on end.

Wanda opened the door and smiled seeing you up and about for the first time.

“You look much better.” She commented coming to stand by your shoulder. “Wow, you’re an amazing artist.” She smiled looking at your drawings.

“Oh, um … thanks.” You smiled still a little awkward when it came to compliments. “So, what’s the news?” You asked.

“Hmm? Oh, yes.” Wanda said looking up from where she had been inspecting your sketchbook. “Nat called Fury. He’s kinda the boss. He’s given the go ahead if steve and tony sign off on it. Nat then called a meeting and I’m going to bring you to the room where you're going to meet the team.” She explained.

“I have two questions.” You said.

“Shoot.” Wanda said pulling you up and gesturing to follow her out the door.

“One, is peter going to be at this meeting?” You asked as Wanda lead you down some seemingly endless corridors.

“Yes.” Wanda nodded, pressing the button to call the lift.

“And two, this Fury guy said yes? Just like that?” You asked sounding slightly confused.

“Yes and no.” Wanda begun, stepping onto the lift with you beside her. “Nat asked Jarvis, Tony’s AI assistant to pull up all CCTV footage of spider-man and separate footage based on bio-signatures. So, she could differentiate between when it was peter and when it was you in the suit. She sent Fury the files and after he reviewed them, he approved you a place on the team. If you want it and the others agree.” Wanda explained.

“Okay.” You said slowly. “Seems like a good plan.” You smiled.

And the lift dinged softly as it slowed to a stop.

“This is us.” Wanda said and you followed her out of the open doors. Walking beside her down a hallway she stopped in front of a door and paused to look at you. “You ready?” She asked, her hand on the door handle.

“Yep.” You nodded swollowing down your nerves. “Ready as I’ll even be.”

“You’ll be great. Just be yourself and they’ll love you.” Wanda said and pushed the door open.

Nat was stood at the head of the table, a screen behind her queued up with spider-man videos. She smiled at you and wanda as the rest of the people turned to face you.

Seeing the people you had only ever seen on Tv in real life was a little overwhelming at first but wanda squeezed your hand and lead you into the room to stand at the front with her and Nat.

Peter smiled at you from where he was sat beside Tony. Looking proud of you just for standing in front of the avengers.

You stood there silent for a second simply making eye contact with your shoes before Natasha spoke up.

“This is Y/n.” Nat begun, and you gave a small half wave with an awkward smile. Tony was staring you down with an unreadable expression. He looked like he was analysing your face mentally. Most likely already having connected you to Peter.

“Hi I’m Y/n Parker.” You said lifting your eyes to meet a few smiling faces around the room a fair few of them sporting shocked looks.

“Parker?” Tony echoed sounding smaller than you had ever heard from his times on Tv.

“Y/n Parker is Peters sister.” Wanda explained.

“Kid?” Tony looked hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me there were two of you?” He asked looking sad.

Peter looked slightly sick at the open disappointment his mentor was showing right now and so you stepped in before peter had a panic attack.

“Mr Stark, Sir, it was my decision to keep myself out of the spotlight. And to do that I needed to maintain a low profile. Which is harder to do when the avengers know of your existence. No offence.” You explained. And the team exchanged a few glances as they noted how you had come to Peter’s aid almost immediately.

“That’s alright, I’m sure Pete will open up now you’re here.” Tony said with a grin as he ruffled Peters hair, “Won’t-cha kiddo?” He asked with his usual charismatic charm and Peter gave a small nod and smile while he ducked his head not liking the attention.

“So, anyone have anymore questions?” You asked drawing the attention off of Peter once more much to your brothers' relief.

Looking away from the small smile he sent you as thanks you laughed, seeing every hand in the room up with a question for you, bar Nat, Peter and Wanda of course.

You looked to your left and nodded to Steve.

“Hi, nice to meet you kid.” Steve said. “I have a question though, if Peter’s identity is secret, why did you need to stay away from us?” He asked looking confused, and his statement drew a few nods around the room.

“If Tony scares you honey, I can assure you that the man would forget his own shoes without me.” Someone you recognised as Pepper Potts said with a smile causing Tony to grumble to himself. How Nat had managed to wrangle the CEO of Stark industries into this meeting you didn’t know.

Little did you know that all it took was ‘There’s something you should know, it has to do with Peter’ and she was on her way.

“Actually,” Wanda said drawing the gaze of the room to her, “This should explain it. Jarvis play the video.” She said and the lights dimmed as the Tv showed a compilation of some of your best moves in the spider-suit.

When the video ended the lights retuned to their normal brightness and everyone still looked confused.

“How exactly does a compilation of Peter doing tricks explain that?” Bruce asked.

“Um…” You said looking slightly nervous. “That was me.” You said in a small voice and the room was silent for a second.

“Sick moves kid. Peter your sister’s awesome.” Sam said and a few people laughed at his perfect comedic timing.

“Prove it.” Tony said and you paled slightly.

“Tony.” Pepper said placing her hand on his arm and shooting him a look.

“No, its ok pepper.” Nat said. “Jarvis?” Nat called to the ceiling. “Was that peter in the suit for those videos?” She asked.

“The height and weight as well as body stature and proportions do not match Master Parker.” Jarvis said.

“Ok,” Nat continued, “Who do those body descriptors match in this room?” She asked.

“The person in the suit does match the body of Miss Parker.” Jarvis said and Tony frowned.

“Do the sticky thing.” Bucky called drawing a few smiles. You rolled your eyes and put a hand up, splaying your fingers before jumping in the air and touching the ceiling where you stayed stuck.

“Crawl around.” Sam said and you glared at his heckling.

“No.” You said and you saw Peter doing his puppy eyes at you. “Fine.” You sighed.

Jumping up you did a flip and stuck your legs out, now standing on the ceiling upside down and making eye contact with Sam before looking to Bucky.

“Better?” You asked sarcastically.

“Much.” Sam grinned and you rolled your eyes again.

“Ok. Get down Y/n.” Nat said sounding part annoyed part amused at the display.

“Yes ma’am.” You said before detaching from the roof and doing a flip to landing back where you were before.

“Show off.” Peter murmured under his breath and you huffed a small laugh as his ears went red, not having expected you to hear him. Dumb super-hearing.

“Well, now we’re done with the party tricks. What are we thinking?” You asked brushing off invisible dirt from your clothes.

“Well…” Tony said. “I think its time you got your own suit.” He grinned and you smiled back. “What colours do you want kiddo?” He asked.

“Um… maybe something like purple, white and red?” You said and he nodded already sketching down ideas on a pad of paper pepper had brought with her from a meeting.

“You’re also getting an AI.” Tony added and you looked a peter who simply smiled proudly of you.

“Well, if that’s everything Y/n’s also gonna need a room.” Wanda said and Tony nodded.

“There’s a spare room on Natasha and Wanda’s floor if you want to move in with the girls. Do I need to send some movers to grab your things?” Tony asked and you looked at your shoes and shook your head.

“Not much to move.” You mumbled.

“Y/n’s apartment was taken out in the last battle. She’s been hiding out in Peter’s room for now. That’s how we met actually.” Natasha said shooting you a reassuring smile.

“Well, it sounds like I’m going to be funding yet another shopping trip.” Tony sighed and Wanda grinned at you mischievously.

“We’ll make it a girl's day.” Wanda said shooting a look at pepper.

“I’d love to.” Pepper agreed and Nat clapped her hands together.

“Alright then.” The assassin said. “I should probably tell Fury we have another spider on the team.” Nat grinned and you smiled at her.

“Great, now we have three spiders.” Tony said rolling his eyes and ducking as Pepper aimed a pretty good swing to the back of his head.

“Knock it off Tony, don’t act like you're not secretly overjoyed to have another Parker around.” Pepper said.

“Just wondering,” Bruce said looking mildly nervous as the room turned to look at him.

“Yes?” You prompted him to continue.

“Are you…” He begun before pausing, “I guess theres no real nice way to put it.” Bruce said and Tony jumped in.

“I think Brucie-bear wants to know if you come with the Parker Brain Package.” Tony said and Pepper glared at him.

“Tony.” She warned, glaring at him while you cleared your throat.

“If you’re asking about how smart I am, let’s just say I designed the original prototype for the web-shooters and chemical makeup of the fluid.” You said and Tony nodded seemingly satisfied with that small tidbit of information for now.

“Well, if nobody had anything else to say, Wanda and I are going to take Y/n for a tour of the compound.” Nat said before turning to look at Clint. “And you, have to make dinner. You lost our bet.” Nat said and then dragged you and Wanda out of the room by your sleeves.

After a very long and very comprehensive tour by Natasha and Wanda, you were shown back to the communal kitchen where most of the team ate together when they weren’t on missions.

You walked into the dining room attached to the kitchen to be hit with the smell of burnt food pungent in the air.

You looked at Nat confused, and she grinned as she heard cursing coming from the kitchen. Wanda looked like she was itching to go help but sad she pulled away Nat grabbed her sleeve at the very last second to hold her back.

“Can someone explain whats going on for me?” You asked.

“Well, Clint and Natasha can’t cook if their lives depended on it.” Wanda begun, only to shush Nat when she went to speak up. “So naturally they made a bet, loser had to cook the team dinner, naturally Clint lost so Nat is enjoying his public humiliation. And I normally cook if we aren’t getting takeout so it's causing me pain to hear whats going on in there.”

“Oh, calm down. Clints not blowing anything up.” Nat said rolling her eyes as Wanda shot her a look. “Ok that was one time.” Nat amended.

Not twenty minutes later you were sat at a table with the avengers with a plate of very burnt stake and watery mash potatoes.

“What is it?” Tony asked poking his steak.

Clint grinned. “A masterpiece.” He said.

“More like a mistake.” Nat muttered judging her steak while poking it with her knife as if she was expecting it to start moving of its own accord.

“I say we have newbie try it.” Tony posed and you rolled your eyes.

Cutting off a piece of the very tough steak with your knife you raised it to your lips and put it in your mouth.

It was tough and kind of disgusting. But you smiled anyway.

Finding the meat tougher than you had been expecting, you made the switch as you called you fangs up. Your canines sharpened as you chewed managing to decimate the meat. Swallowing you looked at Clint.

“Not the worst thing I’ve every eaten.” You said with a smirk and Tony who had been watching you closely squeaked.

“Jeez kid you didn’t tell me your sister was a vampire.” Tony said turning to Peter.

By this point most of they eyes were on you, so you hid your teeth and retracted the fangs out of embarrassment.

“She’s not. It’s a spider thing she got.” Peter said coming yo your defence.

“Either way her new name is fangs.” Tony said with a grin.

This time you glared at him.

“For the record i think they’re awesome.” Wanda said sensing your embarrassment.

“Seconded.” Nat said her spy training honing in on your body language to see you were insecure about it.

“I gotta admit it’s a cool trick doll.” Bucky said.

“Pretty neat.” Steve agreed with a smile.

“Badass.” Sam nodded flicking a still frozen pea at Bucky. “Alright, now that y/n probably has food poisoning, who wants pizza?” Nat asked with a grin. Cheers came from all sides of the table as Clint slumped dejectedly in his seat.

PART 4

[missmarveledsblog]

It's only pretend right? ( Bucky barnes x reader ) part one

summary : bucky (more so steve) agree's to be Y/N fake boyfriend for a week at her families ranch , he discovers his best friend left out some part that not all of her family is accepting of her but bucky is gonna be there every step to show them why she the best .

warnings : none well some shitty members of family , slow fast burn , idiots in love , mutual pining ,

A.N : this has been on back burner for so long so decided to let her out , sort of goofy love story some angst thrown in but mostly fluffy our dear bucky deserves that

The sun gleamed through  the sky as most of the team enjoyed the rare time off, that was until her screams rang out through the compound sending him to break out  into a sprint to the noise. He moved so fast it could have been compared to pietro maximoff  not that he cared for anything like that , not in these moments . Due to the universe and its cruel ongoing joke  , he was expecting the worst case scenario. Was she taken? , fighting against assailants? Was she hurt? It all came to his mind as he ran toward the source of the noise and yet in an instant that fear melted away when he heard her giggles and laughs looking in with now amusement. The sight was something James Buchanan Barnes couldn’t help smile so widely at .  There he watched as three  avengers stood like naughty children trying not to laugh at their own actions covered in ice cream and god knows what else. . 

“ Now pretty girl not so funny now is it?” Sam teased. 

“ What is going on here?” Bucky crossed his arms. 

“ Well little miss here thought it was funny when poor stevie here fell spilling ice cream all over himself” sam started. 

 “ Actually you laughed first. If I can remember , I may have given her something to laugh at. "Steve chuckled. 

“ He hit him right in the face with ice cream” she fell into Steve in a burst of laughter. “ So I showed her how it felt,”Sam nudged her.  

“ Literal children '' Tony rolled his eyes looking at the earth's mightiest heroes covered  head to toe in a now melted sweet treat.

 “ Hey in my defense I came in to make the team  something to  cool down. They insisted on helping” she held her hands up. 

“ Well that defense goes out the window when you're the one who tripped cap” tony smirked .

 “ you little..” Steve began chasing her . 

“ language” she giggled, rushing to get away from the super soldier which usually wasn’t an easy feat but the ice cream that covered the floor both helped and hindered her escape.

“ Bucky help” she ran into the men's arms , a  both sudden and most welcomed action. 

“ Leave my doll alone punk” he carried her out chuckling when he turned his head to see her sticking her tongue out at his best friend. 

 “Very mature” steve copied her action. 

“ Just friends my ass,” Sam called.

She didn’t hear the words , still now aimlessly talking about her sister's new dog but bucky heard. A phrase he wished he could say was fact but it wasn’t because they were just friends . How he wished he could call  the most beautiful being he’s ever had the pleasure to lay his eyes on in all the years he’d been alive . how even something as hearing her voice made his worst days the best. How her laugh was in his own words definitely heaven sent. In four years , 2 with shield and 2 with the team  he had studied every detail of the woman at his side , first because he didn’t trust new people then it was because he actually wanted to get to know her , the more he found out the more he fell for her. All her mannerisms he knew so he could tell when she wasn’t having a great day and he made it his mission to make it better. How she bristled like a kitten at the sight of John Walker,  something he found in common and found adorable all in one. 

If anyone were to ask James Barnes to describe his perfect woman that description would have been Y/N L/N because to him she was perfect. How she cared so deeply about those around her friends , family or even a casualty in a mission. That soft , sweet side  along with the spitfire , kickass , stubborn and oh so sarcastic side that could rival stark in every way. She was serious when it came to missions but would be the first to cheer up and make everyone laugh after the mission . so it wasn’t hard at all for Bucky to fall for the woman. What he found hard was trying to express how he felt. When he went to tell her how he truly felt, suddenly he felt  like he had swapped bodies with pre-serum Steve back in the day or the spider kid. Words would sometimes fail to even come out his mouth which was better when the words jumbled or stuttered , a stumbling mess that ultimately shut him up changing the topic completely.

 “ So now I got the time off and all well I have to go for like a week and need to find a date in the next 24 hours” she sighed knocking the man back to earth completely confused to what she was talking about.

 “ Sorry, what doll?” he shook his head. 

“ My family reunion is a big deal sort of thing , my sister and brother both proposing to their girlfriends” she laughed . 

“ hey bucky can go… sorry” steve winced seeing her jumping at his sudden appearance. 

“ missions ?” she rolled her eyes.

 “ Thor and Loki will be here,” Steve shrugged.

 “ Well then settled i’ll be your date” bucky smiled awkwardly wanting to kiss his best friend's ass .

 “ wait really … oh my god thank you bucky i’ll make it up and promise not to be the world worst fake girlfriend , ok i gotta pack you should do the same, oh nat waiting for me and i need to shower” she beamed almost skipping off to  her room .

 “ i’ll help him out” steve called . 

 “ Your welcome jerk,” the blonde chuckled before walking ahead toward his best friend's room while the man in question tried computing what the hell happened .     

“ what the hell happened you” nat chuckled sitting on the bed looking  her best friend walking in covered in god know what.

 “ food fight with cap and bird brain” she shook her now stiff hair. 

“Steve tells me Bucky is going to be your fake boyfriend for the week” she wiggled her brows.

 “ yeah let me shower first and freak out about that after” she ran into the ensuite heart pounding.  Nerves coursing through her  as she had to pretend to be in love even though she was definitely not going to fake it.  Since day one of meeting James Buchanan Barnes , well had her hook line and sinker. How could he not the man would cause a nun to sin with how hot he was. Pair that up with caring , understanding and all around amazing well she never stood a chance. Now she was going to spend the week pretending , almost having a taste of what it would be like to be the one he called his .  even thinking of it made her knees weak and yet she shook it from her head knowing natasha was sitting outside on her bed. Scrubbing her hair as she giggled while sprinkles fell at her feet and enjoying the mobility of her hair again . 

While only across the hall Bucky Barnes was panicking as he thought of the whole thing once Steve filled him in on the conversation he missed .

 “ This is perfect. I mean you could  make this the week you confess and finally get your girl” the blonde beamed brightly.

 “ or completely screw up and lose her completely because let's be real with my life that is the most likely option” he pulled the case out. 

“ Aye my man finally got the girl '' Sam cheered as he walked into the room 

 '' One shut up she could hear you and two I'm a fake boyfriend” he hissed, shutting the door  . 

“ well put on a good show that she will want the real thing… not like that not already of the case” he mumbled .

 “ ok sit we can do this, '' Steve led him to the bed, pulling out clothes and a couple of suits .

 '' What if I screw this up so bad she’ll quit the team and I'll never see her again” he stood pacing while the other two men rolled their eyes .

 “ or you’ll see what we see '' Steve mumbled but the man before them was too lost in his head to pay attention  to the non stop hints they tried to but he never did so it wasn’t anything new .

  “ ok so the clothes end will be sorted and tony agreed to the time off well he told me to tell you not to waste it” steve smirked before heading off into the bathroom . “ Clint said he can drop you both off before he heads home so flights are covered,” Sam added . 

“ Ok man, think of this week , where you don’t have to hide those feelings where you can act around her like you’ve always wanted to act” Sam turned, seeing Bucky still freaked out. 

“ What if I make her uncomfortable?” he asked. 

 “ i’m not saying bang her on the spot  i mean little thing like when your trying to hide the fact you stare at her like stark looks at his suits or pepper” sam rolled his eyes.

 “ he’s right Stark loves those suits and you love Y/N'' Steve teased throwing the bag of toiletries into the suitcase.

 “ this can be good … or it's going to be a complete disaster” .

“ how the hell am i going to do this… is it too late to fake my death and start a new life” she asked pacing while Nat and now wanda took the task to pack her suitcase.

“ No faking your death” nat rolled her eyes as wanda giggled .

 “ how the hell am i going to convince my parents i’m with bucky but not scare off my best friend… male best friend” she corrected herself after nat shot her a look. 

 “ Be the way you guys are already,” Wanda winked.

“ be serious here i don’t want to lose my best friend.. You know what i mean” she rolled her eyes at nat. 

“ You won't ok ,  you couldn’t lose Bucky even if you tried. '' Nat smiled softly  just like the guys, the woman before them was completely oblivious to what was in front of her.

 "I'd cancel but i can’t miss my brother and sister's engagement .. to separate people we ain’t that far down south '' she clarified  hearing the words coming out her mouth . “ We know what you mean , look, just use the time to get the taste of the experience” nat said. 

“ Maybe your eyes will finally see,” Wanda whispered under her breath.

 “ hopefully we can sell it enough so my aunts and uncles finally stop with their matchmaking and finally like me   i mean one of their blind dates brought me to a strip club was fun i mean  he even gave me my own ones but that doesn’t scream marry me , ”she winced as the two women fell into a fit of laughter. 

“ Is that why I keep finding glitter on you?” Nat wiped tears from her eyes.

 “ Yeah, that courtesy of candy , we’re friends on facebook , great gal was gonna hire her for peter's birthday next month actually ” she smiled. 

“ You'll kill the kid,” Wanda snorted. 

“ Hey, death by candy is a way to go,”she winked. 

“ You realize she and Peter are the same age and now i don’t know if you want bucky or candy” nat teased. 

“ Ok enough on my bi curiosities of my new stripper friend , how am i going to survive a week of pretending to be in love but not in love with my best friend … nat stop glaring you know what i mean” . 

 “ This is gonna kill me”she fell back onto the bed. 

Ten minutes he must have been standing at the door paralyzed nerves taking over and words escaping his mind to why he was there. 

 “ Just knock man this is pitiful , to think this is the once feared winter soldier can’t even knock on chicks door” tony rolled his eyes as bucky glared at the man. “ oh for fuck sake , thank me later terminator , don’t screw it up” was all the billionaire said before thumping the door and running off a bucky stood looking down the hall to contemplate how this was his life.

 “ fucking asshole should of kill him instead of how… how are you doll you busy” he caught himself as she looked puzzled at the man. He could hear the laughs before the two women came to view .

 “ shes all your barnes” nat winked letting him only confirm more people were aware of his feelings .

 “ Tell candy we say hello” Wanda snorted as she followed Nat down the hall. “Candy?” he arched his brow. 

“ my new erm .. stripper friend .. come in “ she cleared her throat trying to ignore the glint in his eyes when she said it.

 “ what… actually tell me another time I'm here to go over a back story like the way we do on missions so I don't say the wrong thing or we get caught out” he smiled softly as her own feature light up at the suggestion . 

“ You clever son of a bitch” she danced excitedly. The little drawl in her voice came out more when she was either happily excited or pissed off. 

“ i didn’t even think of that , i mean you’ve met my parents not my siblings so sorry for that .. you’ll understand when you meet them” she snorted leading him into the room and toward her sofa . 

“ Ok so obviously we met at work which I think my mom and dad just wanna prove i am actually an avenger” she chuckled. 

“ Who asked who out?” he asked softly.

 “Well I mean you asked me out cause if my aunts think the other way around they will think you're desperate or held hostage they have old way of thinking on somethings” she winced.

 “ Ok deal , how long have we been together?” he asked . 

“ Six months it's not too long to wonder why we aint been announced and not too short for you to meet the family” she nodded.

 “ PDA” he coughed, hiding the nervous break in his voice.

 “ Whatever you're comfortable with, we don’t have to go full PDA  so I won't jump you during family dinner” she teased . “ Well I mean we cuddle and hold hands all time so that part ain’t so hard right ” she added her cheeks flushing.

 “ No, it's a fine doll, I mean it’s kinda handy knowing all about you , well I thought I did until the whole stripper thing” he laughed.

 “ Hey candy is an artist and everything huh? My my bucky barnes i didn’t know you were a fan” she teased . 

“ says the one with 50 pictures next to my exhibit” he countered .

 “ Hey, it's not my fault bird brain can't take a good picture anyway, shut it before I can  switch you out with candy” she stuck her tongue out .

 “ I mean you could but do they know her like they know me” he asked . 

“ unless they frequent strip clubs when they visit.. Ok i grossed myself out”she scrunched up her nose at the thought while bucky though she was the cutest thing to ever exist.

 "Go on doll hit the hay Clint is bringing us so you know it’s going to be early as hell” he stood kissing  her head  before walking out the room while she in turn fell on to the bed knowing the star of the dreams she was going to have was just across the hall.

next part

[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

Lessons in love

Chapter 1: A new professor

Summary: You’re a new professor at Avengers U and one of the first students you meet is Wanda maximoff, when you make her stay behind your class due to her friends childishness you find out she might be more than you thought, Wanda on the other hand is a huge gay mess and can’t deal with anything you do

Paring: Professor!Y/n x college!Wanda maximoff

Warnings: 18+ only Minors DNI lots of innuendos, swearing and Nat being really annoying to Wanda (let me know if I’ve missed any)

A/n: I’ve watched Bloomington again but I’ve not followed the plot for this story but it’s inspired by it, but there will be a happy ending because I can’t end things in sadness

Wanda wasn’t in the mood, she didn’t want to be in class today and didn’t know why she was here, they were getting a new professor this year, what a waste of time, you had the same teacher for the 4 years you were here and now you’ve got someone new? Ridiculous!

“Oh sorry!” Wanda wasn’t looking where she was going and bumped into a hard body nearly knocking both her and the person over, Wanda gathered herself and looked up at the person and stood stunned “woah” she blushed and you laughed “are you okay honey? You seemed to be in quite a rush”

Wanda tore her eyes away from you and dusted herself free of the imaginary dust she had gathered “sorry sorry I’m just nearly late for class and apparently we’re getting a new teacher who’s strict on time so that means she’ll probably be a bitch and I don’t have time today”

She let out a big sigh and finally looked back up to you and you had a smile on your face “a bitch huh? Interesting, I’m pretty sure it’s just called good manners if you’re on time and ready”

She shrugged “sure and I get that but still it’s annoying when they’re like that”

You laughed “yeah I get it, I had a teacher when I was younger who was a bitch, she was hot though so I made sure I was on time, most of the time anyway, she’d keep me back after lessons and gave me a stern talking too” you winked and Wanda’s heart did a flip, why was this happening

“Oh yeah I guess but those things only happen in weird porn films and fan fictions”

You chuckled “sure, but I think the world of fantasy and fan fiction is so much better than the real world, anyway go on to your class, I hope the teacher isn’t a bitch like you say”

Wanda agreed “yeah me too, okay thanks I’ll maybe see you again”

“I think it’ll be sooner than you think”

Wanda shook her head, “unless you follow me, I don’t think I will” she laughed moving past you towards her classroom, what a coincidence, that’s where you were heading for too.

**************************************************

Wanda’s mouth hung open as the door opened and you stepped through walking to the desk and writing your name on the board behind you

“Oh my fucking god” Wanda whispered and her best friend Nat perked up from her half boredom nap “what’s up Maximoff?” She looked at you then back at Wanda and smiled wide “you like the teacher? Dude she’s old enough to be your mom”

Wanda slapped Nat on the arm “shut up Nat no she’s the woman I saw outside and told her I thought the new teacher would be a bitch, god she’s going to hate me”

Nat watched your eyes search for something and land on the distressed Wanda, you smiled and turned back to the board writing the objective down and introducing yourself and talking about what everyone would be doing today

“Wands I don’t think she’s mad at you, she’s just searched for you and smiled when she found you, you’re so going to have sex with a teacher this year and I’ve never been more proud” she wrapped Wanda into a bear hug and squeezed her hard, when she finally pulled away Wanda looked to the front seeing you sorting some papers out, you were very pretty, she thought

“Are you thinking about it?” Nat giggled and Wanda swatted her away “no, no I’m thinking about the clearly illegal age gap”

Nat scoffed “oh come off it, you’re 22 and she looks about 30 something, it’s not illegal wands”

Wanda shrugged “still feels wrong though”

“Okay sure Wanda” Nat ripped up some of the paper from her notebook, scrunched it up and threw it at your head as you turned to the board forcing you to turn around quickly “and who threw that? I didn’t know I was in a class with children”

Nat put her hand up and pointed to Wanda “it was Wanda professor, she said you looked like a bit- “Nat!!”

Wanda tried but you interjected “okay! Natalia thank you for being honest and Wanda please see me after class to talk about your behaviour” you turned back around to the board and Wanda glared at Nat with fury in her eyes

“I’m going to murder you in your sleep” she whispered and Nat just laughed “you won’t be able to kill me when your face deep in the professor”

“You’re disgusting” Wanda rolled her eyes and tried to focus on the lesson, why were you so attractive Jesus Christ, she couldn’t focus, god this was going to be long year.

*****************************************************

“Miss Maximoff don’t forget to stay behind” your voice echoed in the room and Wanda sat back down in her chair flipping Nat off as she left, the whole lesson Wanda felt like she couldn’t breathe, whenever you glanced to her her breath hitched again and her face turned the same colour as her hair.

When the room emptied and all that remained were you and Wanda, Wanda started feeling sick, what was gonna happen, she couldn’t believe it she’d definitely kill Nat later

“Wanda come to the desk please I can’t talk to you if you’re sat far away from me” your voice was stern like a police officer and Wanda just wanted to run away but she dragged herself to your desk

“So, what a start to lesson hmm? First you crashed into me in the hallway, indirectly call me a bitch and now you’ve thrown paper at me why? Because you wanted too?”

Wanda shook her head “no no no I didn’t throw the paper my friend Nat did then blamed it on me because she wanted me to stay behind!”

You quirked an eyebrow in question and Wanda blushed a deep red again at her outburst, but that didn’t bother you, students would yell at you all the time, it was comical sometimes “and why did she want you to stay back?”

Wanda stepped from foot to foot keeping her face towards the floor “Idunno”

She didn’t notice you step up and round the desk coming to stand in front of her, that was until your fingers held under her chin lifting her face up to look you in the eye “I want to be looked at when being spoken too Wanda now, tell me exactly why Natalia wanted you to stay behind”

Wanda couldn’t move, or maybe she didn’t want to move, maybe she wanted you to caress her whole face they way you were rubbing her chin in a soothing way forever, wait were you moving closer? Oh god your breath was on her cheek

“I’m waiting darling” your voice broke Wanda out of her small trance “o-oh er yeah she thinks you like me and was searching for me in class so then me staying behind means it would be a good thing….”

“Do you think I like you?” You whispered and Wanda’s breath hitched “erm”

“Actually don’t tell me, I already know the answer but I won’t push you, be a good girl and go to your next class okay?”

You let go of her chin and Wanda left the room faster than she wanted to admit and it made you smile “she’s adorable”

********************************************************

“Nat!” Wanda burst into her and Nat’s shared accommodation not noticing the scrunchie on the door so you were met with Maria hill straddling her friends waist both without shirts or bras on but to be fair she didn’t care at this point she just needed to tell Nat what happened

“Wanda! There’s a scrunchie on the door you know the rules!” Nat scrambled to get Maria and herself covered with some blankets

Wanda realised it was Maria and momentarily forgot about the intimate interaction between herself and you

“Wait Maria? I’ve seen you slap Nat a few times whenever she tried flirting with you what’s going on?”

The flustered woman held the blanket close to her chest “well Wanda that’s what happens when you get worn down and have sex at a house party, turns out Nat is good enough with her tongue to keep her around”

Nat had that stupid smug look on her face that Maria wanted to smack off of her “don’t be so smug Nat, when someone better comes along I’ll move on”

Nat faked gasped “oh nooo I’m devastated”

“Whatever, anyway Wanda don’t you have another class now?”

Wanda nodded “yeah but I couldn’t go I’m too stressed and upset and I need help!”

She slumped down onto her bed and Nat quickly jumped to her side, with a hoodie thrown to her by Maria

“Tell us red, tell your parents what happened” she rubbed Wanda’s shoulders in comfort and winked at Maria who just scoffed “I’m not anyone’s daddy thanks”

Nat stopped comforting Wanda for a second “woah woah, why would you be the daddy? Why aren’t I daddy?”

“Because you’re on your knees for me more than you are in classes so that makes me a daddy”

Nat blushed hard “hey but-

“Guys! Please I need to tell your guys what happened before I combust!”

Nat and Maria’s attention quickly went back to Wanda “okay sweetheart tell us, what happened with the new teacher”

Wanda nodded “okay, well I stayed behind and she made go to her desk to be close to her so she could talk to me and then I told her it was Nat being a bitch and wanting me to stay behind because you thought she liked me and then she held me chin and forced my head up to look at her while we talked because she said she didn’t like it when people didn’t look at her when talking then she got so close I could feel her breath on my face and then she asked if I liked her then she said she already knew the answer and sent me off to my lesson but I came straight here”

The two girls were silent, extremely unsure of what to say and Wanda got nervous “Nat? Nat say something please it’s your fault I’m in this mess”

Nat shrugged “Wands, she likes you! You’re so in, unless you felt uncomfortable because obviously that’s not good, did you feel uncomfortable? I wouldn’t but I know what you’re like”

Wanda didn’t answer, was she uncomfortable? No she didn’t think so

Maria came to sit on the opposite side of Wanda now wearing a hoodie too “how do you feel Wanda, like truly feel? If she did make you uncomfortable you could go to the dean and tell him about it, innocent flirting and such is fine but if it’s truly upsetting you-

Wanda shook her head “no no I’m not uncomfortable I’m just confused and stressed because what if she’s just being really really nice? Teachers are like that and then students get in trouble for it because we misread situations”

The three girls sat in silence for a while letting everything soak in, the silence was broken when Nat got a text message from the sorority she was in “hey Wanda we’re having a party tonight, maybe it’ll get your mind off professor hot for a while”

Wanda groaned laying back on her bed “I’m not big on partying you know that”

“Yeah but I think you need it tonight, plus no classes tomorrow it’s Saturday so it’s perfect!”

Wanda knew Nat wouldn’t let up and she didn’t mike letting her best friend down “alright fine”

Nat squealed in excitement “yay! I can’t wait to get you absolutely shitfaced drunk”

Maria rolled her eyes “I can’t believe I’m sleeping with you”

Nat shrugged “At least I’m in a sorority so I’m sorta popular”

“Thank god”

******************************************************

“There’s a sorority party tonight, perfect for a new professor to get to know everyone” Tony stark had taken you under his wing, in fact he insisted on it, you had no choice but he seemed alright and his wife was fun too so that was okay

“A party at a sorority? I’m not a spring chicken anymore Stark I can’t be seen hanging around students” you laughed but the man scoffed

“Let me tell you Y/n these guys don’t care if teachers go or not, me and pepper go every few months just to show our faces, plus pepper is amazing at beer pong, it’s a little hot actually”

Pepper slapped Tony on his shoulder to stop him talking “calm down cowboy don’t scare her off yet, but he is right, going to the party could be good, plus maybe you’ll have some fun with someone” Pepper winked

“Wouldn’t that be inappropriate Mrs stark?” You smirked and the woman just laughed “not at this party, there’s a few older sorority members that go, so you may have a chance”

Pepper offered you some chocolate which you took “actually there is someone I want to ask you about”

Tony’s ears pricked up and he slid into the chair next to you “oh? Please tell me everything, your first day and something’s already happened”

You waved him off “nothing big just, what is Wanda maximoff like in lessons? Is she shy?”

Pepper smiled “Wanda is a brilliant student, I think she’ll really excel, she is a little quiet though and it’s a shame because I think she has valid questions but she’ll only ask them after class or if her friend Nat asks for her, it’s her last year this year so maybe she’ll surprise us”

“She likes being involved in my practical experiments only because I’m so flamboyant so she doesn’t have much attention on her, why do you ask? Was she bad in your lesson? That would be exciting”

You shook your head “she wasn’t bad, Nat got her in trouble and I made her stay behind and we talked for a bit”

Pepper sensed you wanted to say more “go on Y/n”

“I know she likes me and it was adorable how she was so flustered about it”

Tony jumped up from his chair and high fived his wife “I knew Wanda was gay! You owe me $50”

Pepper shoved her husband and you both laughed when he fell over “don’t start Tony it was a silly bet I’m not paying anything to you”

“Wait you guys have bets on a student’s sexuality?”

“Doesn’t matter anyway you’re going to that party tonight and we’ll come with you, pack your party clothes”

Tony jumped up from the floor and dusted himself off “we’re going partying? Hell yeah I can bust out some dance moves tonight”

Pepper kissed him on the cheek and looked at him lovingly “if you dance at any point during the night I will divorce you and go and sleep with dean Coulson”

Tony was taken aback “oh, no dancing then got it”

“You guys are wild”

******************************************************

Taglist: @mathxa

Let me know if you want to be tagged

[mintyys-blog]

TAINTED— gangster! peter parker x stark! reader

WARNINGS: violence, corruption, intimidation, SMUT.

Y/N Stark had always been her father’s pride.

Tony made sure the world knew it. From the moment she stepped into the modeling industry, his support had been unwavering. It wasn’t just about his influence or the doors his name opened. It was about his genuine pride—about the way his eyes lit up whenever he spoke about her, about the framed photos in his office, the ones he pointed out to guests.

“She’s taking the world by storm,” he’d say with a grin, no trace of arrogance, just the pride of a father watching his daughter shine. “My little girl. A star.”

Tony wasn’t the type to keep his feelings hidden. He wore his love for her like a badge of honor, showing it off in the way he spoke about her accomplishments, the way his chest puffed out when people mentioned her name. He didn’t care if it was business or personal; Y/N was always at the forefront of his mind.

When Tony couldn’t make her shows, Pepper was always there. Front row, poised and proud, Morgan sitting wide-eyed beside her. Y/N loved those moments—when the lights dimmed, and she caught sight of her family in the crowd. Pepper always gave her an encouraging smile, Morgan clapping too early, excitement bubbling over like a shaken soda bottle.

Tony would send flowers afterward. You were the most beautiful thing in the room, the card would read.

And Y/N would melt. Because as much as she loved her career, she loved knowing her father was proud of her even more. There was a sense of comfort in that pride, a safety she never wanted to lose. The love from her father felt like a solid foundation beneath her, keeping her grounded while she soared.

Morgan often told her, “You’re lucky, you know.”

She’d laugh softly, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “I know.”

Her little sister adored her, idolized her. Morgan would often sit in front of the TV, pretending to model just like Y/N, walking the invisible runway in the living room. It made Y/N smile every time. Sometimes, Morgan would even grab her phone, taking pictures of Y/N like she was the star of her own photo shoot, squealing in delight over the results.

And Y/N loved it. She loved being the role model her little sister needed, someone who pushed through the hard days to achieve her dreams. She was everything Morgan wanted to be.

⸻

But that sense of security, that world where everything was as it should be, began to crack when Peter Parker entered her life.

He wasn’t like the men who hovered around her father—polished, professional, stiff. Peter was different. He was rough around the edges. Too much so, Tony would say. His dark, intense eyes followed her whenever he thought she wasn’t looking, and Y/N found herself noticing.

It was subtle at first, a lingering glance or a casual comment here and there. But Y/N felt it. Something between them sparked, just under the surface. Something Tony would never approve of.

And Tony knew it.

⸻

“Y/N, stay away from him,” Tony said one evening, his voice firm as he leaned back in his chair, the remnants of dinner still on the table.

Her stomach twisted. “Who, Peter?”

“Yeah, Peter,” Tony muttered, his fingers tapping impatiently against his glass. “He’s trouble, Y/N.”

“Why? Because he’s not exactly what you had in mind?”

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “No. Because he’s dangerous.”

That was it. No more. No explanation. No reason why. Just a warning, one Y/N couldn’t shake. It felt wrong. It felt like something was being hidden from her, a secret that only her father knew, something too complicated for her to understand.

But she didn’t care. She didn’t listen.

⸻

She started to see Peter more—by accident, of course. But there were no accidents when it came to him. Every time she walked past the garage or the garden, he’d be there, casually leaning against a wall, waiting for something—or someone.

Her heart would race every time, a mix of curiosity and something else. Something deeper.

He never said much at first, but his eyes—those damn eyes—they said it all. There was something in the way he looked at her, something that made her wonder if maybe, just maybe, he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

So, she’d linger. She’d smile, and Peter would always notice.

He was hard to read, a little distant at times, but he was always there. And that made her want to get closer.

Tony never stopped warning her. And Y/N never stopped ignoring him.

It had been weeks since Tony’s warning about Peter, and yet Y/N still found herself drawn to him. It wasn’t something she could explain—there was a pull she couldn’t resist. Every time she saw him, she had the urge to get closer, to break down whatever walls he’d carefully built around himself.

Her father’s warnings echoed in her mind, but the more Tony tried to push her away from Peter, the more determined Y/N became to get closer. It wasn’t just rebellion—it was something deeper, something visceral. She wanted to see beyond the surface. She wanted to know him.

One evening, after a long day of photo shoots and interviews, Y/N walked out onto the balcony of the mansion, hoping for some peace and quiet to unwind. Her heels clicked softly against the marble floors as she stepped outside, the cool breeze brushing against her skin. She sighed, letting the night air soothe her after a long day of flashing lights and eager photographers.

But then she saw him.

Peter was standing near the edge of the property, his silhouette framed by the dim glow of the garden lights. He wasn’t supposed to be here—her father had made sure to keep him out of sight, but somehow, he was always lurking in the background. Always present, even when Y/N thought she could escape.

“Peter,” she called out, her voice carrying across the quiet space.

He looked up, surprised, his expression unreadable. “Y/N.”

A flicker of something passed between them, and Y/N felt her pulse quicken. It was that same magnetic energy—something unspoken, something undeniable.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked, stepping toward him.

He shrugged, a small, almost amused smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Same as you. Trying to get some air.”

She stopped just a few steps away, but the space between them felt smaller than it should have been. The tension between them was thick, charged, like something was waiting to explode. Y/N could feel it in the way her heart raced, in the way her breath hitched when she looked at him.

“Your father doesn’t want us talking,” Peter said after a moment, his voice quieter now.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, a smirk tugging at her lips. “My father doesn’t control me.”

Peter’s gaze softened, but there was a wariness in it—like he was torn between wanting to walk away and something else pulling him in. “He’s right, though. I’m not the kind of guy you should be around.”

“I can make my own decisions,” she replied sharply, her voice confident. “You’re not what he thinks.”

Peter looked away, a flicker of something crossing his face. “Maybe I am.”

Her heart sank at his words. He wasn’t wrong—she could see the darkness in him, the danger that clung to him like a second skin. But that only made her more curious.

“I don’t care,” she said, her voice quieter now, her eyes locked onto his. “You don’t know what my life is like, Peter. What people expect of me.”

“I know exactly what that’s like,” he said, his voice low, his eyes intense.

For a moment, Y/N swore she could see the pain behind his words, something raw and unguarded. It made her stomach twist, made her feel like she was seeing him for the first time.

Before she could say anything else, Peter took a step toward her, closing the gap between them. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch gentle, almost tentative.

“You don’t have to be this way, Y/N,” he murmured. “You don’t have to fight everything.”

She blinked, her breath hitching in her throat at the intensity of his gaze. There was something in his eyes that made her heart beat faster, something that called to her in a way she couldn’t ignore.

“I’m not fighting,” she whispered back, her voice trembling slightly. “I’m choosing.”

She didn’t even know what she meant by it. The words just spilled out. But in that moment, Peter seemed to understand.

His face was inches from hers now, his breath warm against her skin. For a second, neither of them moved. The world felt like it had paused, as if they were the only two people in it.

“You don’t know what you’re getting into,” Peter said softly, his lips brushing against her cheek as he pulled back slightly, his eyes scanning her face for any sign of hesitation.

Y/N didn’t respond. Instead, she closed the distance, her lips meeting his in a kiss that was slow at first, tentative, like they were both testing the waters. But as the kiss deepened, the tension in her body melted away, replaced with a heat that spread through her like wildfire.

Peter’s hands slid around her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss became more urgent. She responded in kind, her arms wrapping around his neck as she pressed her body against his. The danger of it—the thrill of it—was what made her heart race even faster.

And then, just as quickly, the moment was shattered.

“Y/N!”

The harsh voice echoed through the quiet night, and both of them broke apart immediately. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she saw her father standing in the doorway, his face a mixture of shock and fury.

Tony’s eyes burned with anger as he stared at Peter, then shifted to Y/N. “What the hell are you doing?”

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest as she tried to collect herself, pulling away from Peter and stepping back.

“We—uh—” Peter stammered, his usual confidence gone, replaced with tension.

“Y/N, inside. Now,” Tony demanded, his voice cold.

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but one look from her father silenced her. She glanced at Peter, who was standing motionless, his expression a mix of regret and something darker.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper.

Peter didn’t respond. Instead, he took a step back, disappearing into the shadows of the garden without another word.

Y/N stood frozen for a moment, staring at the spot where he had been, her heart still racing.

Her father’s voice cut through the silence again. “Inside. Now, Y/N.”

Reluctantly, Y/N turned and walked back into the house, her father following close behind.

Tony’s anger was palpable as they entered the house. “What the hell were you thinking?!”

Y/N flinched at the sharpness in his voice, but she stood her ground. “I’m not a child, Dad. I can make my own decisions.”

“Not when it comes to him, you can’t,” Tony snapped. “You have no idea who he really is.”

“I know more than you think,” she shot back, the words leaving her before she could stop them.

Tony paused, his eyes narrowing, as if seeing her in a new light. But he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair.

“Just… stay away from him, Y/N. For your own sake,” he said quietly.

Y/N swallowed hard, her heart still pounding in her chest. But deep down, she knew she couldn’t stay away from Peter. Not now. Not ever.

Y/N couldn’t get Peter out of her mind. She tried to push the memory of his lips, of his touch, from her thoughts, but it was impossible. The kiss lingered, hot and reckless, a fire that hadn’t been put out. Every time she saw her father after that night, her heart twisted with guilt, but she couldn’t help herself. She was drawn to him—his darkness, his danger, the very things Tony warned her about.

She told herself she was just being rebellious. That it was a phase. But the more she told herself that, the more she realized it wasn’t true. This wasn’t a phase. This wasn’t just some childish rebellion against her father’s rules. No, Peter Parker was something more. Something dangerous. Something she wanted.

It was late one evening when she was in her room, the quiet hum of the city below barely reaching her ears. The soft glow of the moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a serene light over the room. Y/N sat on the edge of her bed, scrolling through her phone mindlessly, her thoughts drifting back to Peter. The way he had kissed her, the way his lips had tasted of something forbidden.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Morgan, telling her about some new project she had at school, but Y/N barely registered it. She was lost in the thoughts of Peter, and the overwhelming urge to see him again was consuming her.

That’s when she heard it.

A soft noise from the window. A slight scraping sound. Her heart skipped a beat, and before she could move, the window slid open, the familiar face of Peter Parker appearing in the dim light.

“Peter?” she breathed, her voice a mixture of surprise and something deeper, more yearning.

His face was bruised, his lip split and swollen, a cut near his cheek, and dark circles under his eyes. His clothes were torn, his body looking like he’d just come from a fight. He wasn’t supposed to be here—not after what happened with Tony—but there he was, standing in her room like a shadow in the night.

“Pete… what happened?” Y/N gasped, rushing toward him, her heart pounding in her chest.

He winced, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “Your dad wanted to send a message. Told me to stay away from his little princess,” he muttered, a bitter edge to his voice. He stepped closer to her, and the familiar heat between them flared to life again. “Guess he thinks I’m a bad influence on you.”

Y/N reached out instinctively, her hands trembling slightly as she cupped his bruised face, her thumb brushing over the cut near his lip. She was horrified by the sight of him, but there was something else—something that made her want to get closer. He was hurt, but even in his battered state, there was a fire in his eyes, an intensity that made her pulse race.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice soft, as though the words could somehow make things better.

Peter’s lips curled into a smirk, but it was a sad, knowing smirk, like he was beyond the point of caring. He reached up, grabbing her wrist, pulling her hands away from his face. “Don’t,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t apologize for me. Your dad’s not the one who needs to be sorry.”

Before she could respond, Peter moved faster than she could process, his hands sliding around her waist and pulling her flush against his chest. The sudden closeness made her breath catch, but before she could do anything, he leaned down and pressed his lips to her neck, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine.

“You don’t have to be sorry for me,” he repeated, his voice thick with desire, as he kissed her neck. “But your father…” He trailed his lips down her throat, sending a spark of heat racing through her. “He thinks I’ll taint you.”

Y/N’s breath caught, her eyes closing at the sensation of his lips moving against her skin, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. Every word he said, every touch, sent a wave of conflicting emotions rushing through her—fear, excitement, and something darker.

Peter’s teeth lightly brushed against her throat, the sensation electrifying. “And he’s right,” he whispered against her skin, his voice husky. “I’ll taint you. I’ll ruin you. But you don’t care, do you?”

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest as she tilted her head back, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She should’ve stopped this. She should’ve told him to leave, to get away, to stay away from her father’s rules. But the words wouldn’t come. She was caught, trapped in this magnetic pull between them. She was already in too deep.

“Peter…” Her voice was barely a whisper, trembling with the weight of her emotions. “You… you can’t do this.” But even as the words left her mouth, her hands moved against his chest, her fingers gripping him, pulling him closer. The part of her that still fought to do what was right was fading with each passing second. She wanted him. Wanted all of him. And for the first time in her life, she didn’t care about the consequences.

He paused, pulling away just enough to look her in the eyes. His gaze was burning with something primal, something dangerous, and Y/N knew, without a doubt, that she was in too deep to turn back. His hands moved down to her thighs, lifting her effortlessly, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss that was urgent, desperate. She responded without hesitation, her body reacting to his touch like a fire that couldn’t be put out.

His hands gripped her tightly, and Y/N instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, her body pressed against his as he carried her toward the bed. Her heart was racing, a mixture of fear and desire swirling in her chest, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop. There was no stopping now. She was already lost.

As Peter laid her down gently, his body covering hers, his lips never leaving hers, Y/N could feel the weight of everything they were doing, everything they were becoming. There was no going back. And somehow, in that moment, she didn’t want to.

She wanted this. All of it.

Peter pulled back slightly, his face inches from hers, and his eyes softened, filled with an emotion she couldn’t place. “You don’t know what you’re getting into, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low. “You don’t know how far I’ll take you down with me.”

But Y/N didn’t care. She only cared about the feeling of his lips, his hands, his body. She wanted all of him. No matter the cost.

“I don’t care,” she whispered back, the words barely escaping her lips. She tilted her head up to kiss him again, her hands sliding into his hair, pulling him closer. “Take me wherever you want.”

And with that, everything else disappeared. The rules. The warnings. The danger.

It was just Peter. And her. In the dark. And there was no going back.

As Tony Stark's daughter, you were off-limits, but that only seemed to fuel the flames of attraction. You could see the hunger in Peter's gaze, the way he wanted to devour you whole.

"You know we shouldn't be doing this," Peter growled, his voice low and husky as he pushed you against the wall. "Your dad would kill me if he found out."

You smiled, a thrill running through you at the danger. "I don't care," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "I want you, Peter."

With a snarl, Peter's lips crashed down on yours, his tongue invading your mouth as he claimed you. You felt a shiver run down your spine as he lifted you up, his hands digging into your thighs as he slammed you against the wall.

"You're a bad girl, aren't you?" Peter panted, his eyes blazing with desire. "You like playing with fire, don't you?"

You nodded, your cheeks flushing with excitement. "Yes, I do," you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Peter's hands tightened around your wrists, his grip like a vice. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll be screaming my name," he growled, his voice dripping with dominance. "And you're going to take it, aren't you?"

You nodded again, your body thrumming with submission. "Yes, Peter. I'll take it all."

With a roar, Peter slammed into you, his cock pounding into your pussy. You felt a wave of pain wash over you, but it was quickly replaced by a tidal wave of pleasure. You screamed, your voice echoing off the walls as Peter fucked you with abandon. You moaned his name, tightening around him.

"Dirty girl," Peter panted, his lips brushing against your ear. "You love being fucked like this, don't you? You love being my little slut."

You nodded, your body trembling with pleasure. "Yes, Peter. I love it."

Peter's grip on your wrists tightened, his fingers digging into your skin. "Say it," he growled, his voice commanding. "Say you're my slut."

"I'm your slut, Peter," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing.

Peter's eyes flashed with triumph, his lips curling into a snarl. "That's right," he panted, his cock pounding into you with renewed ferocity. "You're my slut, and I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk."

You screamed, your body shattering into a thousand pieces as Peter fucked you into oblivion. You were his, completely and utterly, and you knew you'd never be the same again.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Peter's grip on your wrists relaxed, his fingers gently stroking your skin. "My little slut," he whispered, his voice full of affection. "You're mine, now and forever."

You smiled, your heart soaring with love and submission. "I'm yours, Peter," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Forever and always."

Peter's eyes locked onto yours, his gaze burning with intensity. "I'm going to own you, body and soul," he growled, his voice low and husky. "You're going to be my little plaything, my toy to use and abuse as I see fit."

You shivered, your body trembling with anticipation. "Yes, Peter," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I want to be your toy."

Peter's lips curled into a snarl, his eyes flashing with excitement. "Good girl," he panted, his voice dripping with approval. "You're going to make me so happy."

With a roar, Peter lifted you up, his hands digging into your thighs, his cock pounding into you with renewed ferocity. You screamed, your body shattering into a thousand pieces as Peter fucked you into oblivion.

As the night wore on, Peter's dominance only grew, his grip on your wrists and ankles tightening as he fucked you with abandon. You were his, completely and utterly, and you knew you'd never be the same again.

Finally, as the first light of dawn crept into the room, Peter's body relaxed, his cock slipping out of your pussy as he collapsed onto the bed beside you. You lay there, your body trembling with exhaustion, your heart soaring with love and submission.

"My perfect girl," Peter whispered, his voice full of affection as he wrapped his arms around you. "You're mine, now and forever."

You smiled, your heart full of love and devotion. "I'm yours, Peter," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Forever and always."

As you drifted off to sleep, you knew that you'd never be the same again, that Peter Parker had claimed you as his own, and that you'd never be free from his grasp. And you knew that you'd never want to be, that you'd always be his, body and soul.

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Where do we go from here - Part 1

Summary: Two funerals. Two couples. A tragedy like no other. And one big secret.

A/N: Written for @fandom-free-bingo Here’s something different, I hope you enjoy it. Leave a comment, heart and reblog if you enjoyed the story.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Pepper Potts, F! Reader x Rhodey, Tony Stark x Reader (eventually)

Warning: 18+ angst, minors DNI, death, infidelity, smoking, mentions of self-harm and suicide. Hurt comfort.

Word count: 2764

Square filled: We deserve much better than we’ve had

Free Fandom Bingo Masterlist

.

Empty.

That’s how you felt. Empty and utterly exhausted. Your eyes were dried and throat scratchy from all the crying, body aching with pain and mind a foggy haze. Forty eight hours it had been since you received the news of the car crash.

James Rhodes. Your husband. Dead.

Pepper Potts. Your best friend. Dead.

You received a call from the hospital while you were wrapping James’ birthday present. A birthday that never arrived. Instead a funeral did. Two consecutive ones. You hadn’t felt grief like this ever.

The service ended, you shook hands and hugged countless people, nodding along as they offered condolences, wanting nothing more than to head home, crash in your bed and never wake up. But you couldn’t. There was another funeral you had to attend, your best friend Pepper’s, you didn’t know if you could go through it all again.

But you had to.

A couple of moments later, you managed to slip away and found yourself sitting on a bench overlooking the graves. The day was actually sunny and bright, wildflowers littered along the gravestones as a gentle breeze blew. What a day for a funeral, you thought sadly.

Not long after you sat, you smelled cigarette smoke in the air before Tony Stark took a seat next to you. Tony was one of your closest family friends, well, he was your husband’s best friend. They practically grew up together, went to school, university and eventually ended up buying houses close to each other too. By way of default, when Pepper and him got married, it brought the four of you closer. She was your best friend and James was his.

It was perfect.

Your mind went back to the last dinner the four of you had at your place, it was only three days ago. Just a day before the accident.

“Here’s to celebrating milestones in friendships!”

James raised his whiskey glass, making you, Tony and Pepper follow suit before you clinked them together with warm smiles. You had cooked a nice dinner to celebrate a year of moving into this home you shared with your loving husband. It may as well have been just an excuse to get together with your friends, which happened too often.

“Thank you for dinner, Y/N. It was delicious. And the blueberry pie too! It is Tony’s favorite.” Pepper announced, making you smile at her husband who returned it, albeit reluctantly. There was something about the way he looked at you, it made you nervous, not in a bad way, per se. It was like he could stare into soul.

“It’s Y/N’s favorite as well.” James chimed in, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

While you cleaned up in the kitchen, Pepper coaxed James to let her take the new SUV out for a spin. She had been trying to persuade Tony to get the same model but apparently he wasn’t too keen on letting his Audi R8 go.

“You think I could sneak in an extra piece of pie?” Tony’s voice took you by surprise as he entered the kitchen.

“Oh! I thought you went along with James and Pep?”

“I mean it was either a piece of pie or Pepper yapping my ear off about how my R8 isn’t exactly ‘fit to be a family car’.” he shrugged, making you chuckle as you took out the remaining pie from the fridge and cut him another slice.

You were suddenly aware of your heartbeat as Tony leaned over to grab the plate from you, the close proximity unfamiliarly welcoming. His fingers grazed over yours ever so lightly, leaving their presence to linger.

What was even going on?

Tony was a good-looking man, there wasn’t a question. He had a handsome face with an impeccably maintained beard that only seemed to suit him best. And his eyes. A light brew of your favorite coffee, the brown doe eyes held as much kindness as they held self assurance. Deep down, you felt an attraction towards the man. It was harmless, wasn’t it?

Only time would tell.

“Y/N?” Tony’s fingers snapped you back to reality, making you realize he had asked you a question.

“Yeah?”

“You went into one of your zones again, didn’t you?” He smiled, taking a bite of the pie and letting out a moan of delight.

“Sorry. One of my zones?”

“Yeah. Your mind tends to wander off when the conversation isn’t interesting for you. I’ve observed.” He wasn’t wrong. The fact that he noticed and pointed it out made your cheeks flush.

“Sorry about that. It’s nothing really. I was just thinking about the time we first got together. I—I mean the four of us.”

“Right. It was a long time ago, wasn’t it?”

“It was at one of your famous parties. I walked in looking to have a good time, you and I had one too many whiskies and the next thing I know Pepper dragged you back to your house and James ended up dropping me home. And the rest is history.”

“The rest is history.” Tony repeated with a small chuckle as memories of that evening played out in his head.

“Sometimes I wonder if…um. Nevermind.” He shrugged, cutting his sentence short leaving you to frown.

“If what? Go on.”

You saw him take in a deep breath, release it slowly before facing you fully after he kept the plate away.

“I wonder if the whole opposites attract thing truly worked out for us. Or we just settled because it was obvious.”

Tony’s words stuck with you long after that night was over. As did the look he gave you. It had longing and hints of regret. Something that reflected in your eyes as well.

You must’ve been crying again because Tony reached out to wipe tears that had escaped, offering you a cigarette which you accepted, filling your lungs with smoke and closing your eyes.

“You know, I spent half of yesterday just staring at my bottle of sleeping pills, wondering if it would hurt less if I just took them.” you murmured, staring into the distance. The void inside your chest seemed perpetual and only growing, there was no relief, no end to this pain.

Tony remained silent, he probably had the same thoughts running through his mind. But you couldn’t tell. He slid closer, placing his arm over the backrest of the bench.

“I need to speak to you about the accident, Y/N. I found out some things that you have the right to know too.” his brown eyes bore into yours, letting you know the urgency in his voice.

“Tell me now.” Shaking his head, Tony stubbed his cigarette and got up.

“Tomorrow. Come home and we’ll talk.”

“But it’s Pepper’s funeral–”

“I couldn’t care less. Trust me. Tomorrow.”

You were taken aback, watching him walk towards his car before driving off while you sat on the bench, a mess of complex emotions.

.

Your right foot was bouncing against the sofa as you waited for Tony, his house felt oddly quiet and dark now that Pepper was no longer around. Safe to say your own home wasn’t exactly in the best condition either. You couldn’t remember the last time you cleaned, or had a proper meal.

He returned with a familiar looking overnight bag, some papers and a phone. As he laid them out in front of you, a pit began forming in your stomach. This couldn’t be what you were thinking it could be. It couldn’t.

“This is what they recovered from the accident. The bag was in the trunk, the phone was found a few feet away and this.”

He handed you the papers first, it looked like a confirmation of a hotel booking, a hotel located just on the outskirts of the town. It was booked under James Rhodes. Why would he check into a hotel when he was supposed to be out of town for a conference?

“I don’t understand..” you trailed off, not really wanting to know the details but Tony handed you the phone next. What you read, broke your heart into a million pieces. The doubts that you tried to push down resurfaced and had materialized right in front of your eyes.

They were chats. Chats between Pepper and James. Your husband and Tony’s wife.

Your eyes burned but no tears came, you felt betrayed, hurt and angry like you hadn’t ever. It was months and months of private conversations between them, you hadn’t even noticed Pepper’s name saved with a heart emoji on James’s phone, right below was your last message to him, checking up on him to see if he reached safely.

You turned to look at Tony who sat with his arms crossed, jaw ticking and hands balled up against his sides. He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head before getting up to stand in front of the window that overlooked their huge backyard.

“Why didn’t–um, why didn’t the cops bring this to me?” you found your voice again but barely recognized it. It was hoarse from lack of use and weak, fearful of what you’d hear next.

“I asked them not to,” he replied quietly.

“Why?”

“Why? Seriously? You think you would’ve handled it well, Y/N? Given the things you said to me, I would be arranging for a third funeral right about now!” Tony didn’t mean to yell, but he did, because he shared your hurt and pain. He immediately regretted it watching you crumble on the floor, clutching the phone to your chest as you sobbed.

Dropping on his knees, he gathered you in his arms and let you cry, your tears soaked his shirt as you wept, body racking in pain while he held you. Your breath was still uneven but your tears eventually subsided, leaving behind a million questions.

“It had been going on for longer than a year, Y/N.” as if reading your mind, Tony mumbled, his voice muffled against your hair.

“I don’t want to believe it, Tony.”

He hugged you tighter, providing you the comfort you needed, wanted even, his presence grounded you, his scent calmed you.

“You’re staying here.” he declared once you separated, wiping tears from your cheeks and making you look up at him.

“I–I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. And you’re going to. You’re hurting, Y/N. We both are. I don’t think I could live with myself with you gone as well. I can’t.” Tony whispered, resting his forehead against yours, pleading you to stay.

He was right. You couldn’t bear the thought of returning to that house which you shared with James, your husband, also the man who had been cheating on you with your best friend for months. Given a choice, you would probably set it on fire to bury all the memories and destroy them. It wasn’t your happy home anymore.

“Will you stay?”

You nodded as he helped you back up, walking you up the stairs that led to the bedrooms.

“Wait, I can’t stay in the–”

“The guest bedroom is on your left. I’ve been sleeping there. I’ll take the other one. I can’t sleep in our bedroom either.” Tony’s lips were pressed in a thin line, fingers trembling before he hid them in his pockets.

Of course. It was hard for him too. You wondered if he had the same thoughts of burning the house down. You two were in the same boat, one that was drowning in a sea of sorrow, betrayal and tainted memories.

And now all you had was each other.

.

Moonlight streamed through the windows as you lay awake, staring at the ceiling for hours, sleep had evaded you. Checking the clock, it stated it was way past midnight, you turned to your side to attempt a small nap if your mind allowed; however a dull crash fell on your ears from downstairs, making you jump out of bed and scramble to the source.

It was Tony.

Eyes brimmed with tears, a half empty bottle of whiskey sitting atop the kitchen counter and shards of broken glass on the floor. As you stepped closer, you saw a broken picture frame as well, one that housed Tony and Pepper’s wedding day photo, both wide eyed and grinning ear to ear, now with a huge crack along the surface.

“Tony?” you treaded carefully, your voice barely over a whisper as you placed your hand on his shoulder.

His tense muscles relaxed under your touch, a sigh leaving his lips.

“She took a pregnancy test, Y/N.” he murmured so quietly you almost missed it. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you heard him. You knew Tony and Pep had been trying for a kid for a while now, Tony wanted a child more than anything.

“Oh my God.” You croaked, rubbing his back in attempts to comfort him as you saw his eyes brimming with unshed tears, your heart breaking for him.

“Now I can’t even know if it was mine. She was fucking pregnant!” He smashed the glass of whiskey on the opposite wall, the two of you watching the liquid stream down in little rivulets, joining the shattered glass.

Tony’s breaths were coming in erratic and shallow, his eyes unfocused, he was struggling to stand upright.

“Tony hey! Look at me, come on. Let’s get you over here.” You supported him until he was sitting on the barstool while you took a seat opposite him. Bringing your hands up to cup his face, you made him look into your eyes.

“Breathe for me, please. It’s okay.”

You sounded unsure but you hoped it was helping him, he was trying his level best to focus on your words but it was hard. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears, all other voices drowning as sweat lined on his forehead.

“Tony. Come on. I know you can do this. Focus. Just breathe.” You placed one of his hands on your chest, taking in a deep breath and releasing it slowly, waiting for him to follow.

It took a few beats but eventually you succeeded in getting him back to normal. He squeezed your hand gratefully, nodding his head to let you know he was alright. You grabbed him a water before pouring yourself a glass of whiskey, neither of you bothering to clean up the mess in the kitchen.

You sat together in silence, pondering over what your lives had become in a span of a week. The alcohol definitely helped, numbed your pain and made you drowsy.

The sun was starting to rise outside, a dull, gray light filtering through the windows letting you know it was dawn. The word exhausted seemed to be synonymous with your daily routine, it was all you ever felt. You took your empty glass and were heading for the sink when Tony grabbed your wrist and stopped you.

“Where are you going?” The uncertainty in his eyes tugged at your heartstrings.

“Just to keep this. Tony, I’m right here.” You reassured the man who followed you into the kitchen, as if to make sure you wouldn’t disappear all of a sudden.

“Will you leave me?” He whispered shakily.

This wasn’t a side of Tony you had ever seen. You were used to the confident, sassy man who joked around and made you laugh.

“I can’t deal with the pain alone. Stay. Please. You’re all I have, Y/N.”

There wasn’t a muscle in your body that protested, not that you wanted to anyways. Laying his head against your chest, he hugged you, holding onto you with all his might.

“Okay, I’ll stay. I’ll stay as long as you need.”

“You will?”

He felt you nod as your fingers carded through his hair, calming his nerves and reassuring him of your presence. He didn’t know how long it would take for you both to recover, but as long as you were with him and he with you, he felt some semblance of hope. That eventually everything could be okay.

“Of course. You’re all I have too.”

[sycamorelibrary754]

The Doting Tree

Summary: During your visit to your grandmother at her assisted living community, you learn that Bucky has been regularly volunteering there as a part of his therapy sessions with Dr. Raynor.

Pairings: Bucky x Platonic reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: None

A/N: Who doesn't want to see Bucky healing?

"Ms. Y/L/N, Mr. Stark requests your presence in his lab," Friday announced, pulling you out of your intense focus.

"Can it wait, FRIDAY? I'm swamped with overdue mission reports here," you replied, shuffling through the stack of papers on your desk.

“Mr. Stark says you have a phone call,” FRIDAY responded.

“A phone call?” you asked, puzzled, picking up your phone. “No, I don't.”

“In his lab, Ms. Y/L/N,” FRIDAY said.

"Okay,” you said as you rubbed your tired eyes. “Tell him I'm on my way.”

Walking into Tony's lab, you found the genius hunched over his desk, tinkering with one of his holographic interfaces. His phone was propped between his ear and shoulder.

“Really? I had no idea,” Tony said with a surprised look. “Y/N is so at ease on the motorcycle you would never know she didn't learn to ride a two-wheeler until she was nine.”

Your eyes widened. "Oh my God. Who are you talking to?" 

"One moment, ma'am," Tony said before placing the phone against his chest.

"It’s your grandmother," Tony said. "She called the front desk trying to reach you, and they patched her through to me." 

"What? Why didn't they call me?" you said, reaching for the phone as Tony pulled it away. 

"Because this is way more fun," Tony smirked. 

"Gimme the phone!" You snapped.

Tony placed a hand on your forehead to hold you at arm's length like an annoying older brother while putting the phone back to his ear.

"Y/G/N, your granddaughter just walked in. So, I’m going to pass you over to her," Tony said. "No, don't be silly. It's no problem. I enjoyed talking with you, too. Feel free to call back anytime. My pleasure, ma'am. Bye-bye."

You sighed as the billionaire finally handed over his phone, walking back toward the pane-glass windows for some privacy.

"Hi, Grandma," you chirped.

"Hello, dear, so good to hear your voice," your grandmother said.

"How did you end up on the phone with Mr. Stark?" you asked.

"I accidentally deleted your cell phone number, but your mom has your workplace down on this list she made, so I called information and then was connected to your lovely boss," your grandma explained.

"Ah, I see. Well, he’s not technically my boss, more like an annoying man-child who pays for everything," Smirking back at Tony and sticking your tongue out.

Your grandma asked, 'What is this I hear about you riding a motorcycle?”

"Oh, no need to worry. I’m a professional, and it's part of my job," you reassured her.

"Still," your grandma began. "I hope you're wearing a helmet."

"Always, Grandma, don't worry,” you fibbed. “So, how are you?” Doing your best to shift the conversation away from your dangerous life as an Avenger.

"I’m good, sweetheart. I'm just wondering when you're going to visit me. It's been a while since I’ve seen you,” your grandma asked. 

Your heart broke at her words. Your grandma lives in an assisted living community near the compound called The Doting Tree. You did your best to see her often, but the unpredictable nature of your work made regular visits difficult.

“I know; I’m sorry. Things have been hectic lately, and I just got home from a work trip a few days ago. How about I stop by tomorrow around noon?" you asked.

“That would be great," she exclaimed. "See you then!"

"Okay, bye," you said, hanging up Tony’s phone.

You gave Tony his phone back, and he handed you a hundred-dollar bill in exchange.

“What's this for?” you asked.

“I may be an annoying man-child, but even I know you treat Grandma like a queen,” Tony quipped with a wink.

*^~^*

The following day, you joined the rest of the team for breakfast. Wanda had made her special chocolate chip pancakes and fresh orange juice for everyone. You sat beside Bucky and began squeezing Maple syrup over your pancakes. 

Pepper set a plate in front of Morgan and sat beside Tony. "So, what's everyone got lined up for today?"

"Nat and I are getting the recruits up to speed," Steve replied, digging into his pancakes.

“That sounds interesting,” Pepper said.

"It would be interesting if they paid attention this time," Nat remarked, downing the last of her orange juice.

"I always paid attention," you declared confidently.

"Sure, Y/N, you ran those extra laps after training at Nat’s request just for fun," Maria teased.

"Yelena and I are off to an advanced obedience class with Lucky and Fanny," Kate said. "This week, it's all about the army crawling!"

"By the end of the training, they'll be more mission-ready than your little recruits, Natasha," Yelena teased as she cut into her pancakes.

Nat leaned over and flicked her sister's arm.

"Ow, son of a—"

"Language!" Steve interjected.

Yelena was about to retort, but then she caught Morgan's smile and shut her mouth.

"I’m supposed to meet with Secretary Ross, but I'd much rather catch the new Godzilla vs. Kong movie. Anyone up for it?" Rhodes suggested.

"I'm in!" Sam exclaimed. "How about you, Buck?"

"Can't make it; I'm tied up," Bucky replied, sipping his orange juice.

“Come on, man, how often do we blend in with the crowd?" Sam quipped.

"I can't, Sam," Bucky replied with a shrug.

"Your loss," Sam retorted. "What about you, Y/N?"

"I'd love to, but I promised my grandma a visit," you replied.

"That's thoughtful of you, Y/N," Wanda chimed in.

"Oh, that reminds me, guess who didn't learn to ride a bike until they were nine?" Tony butted in enthusiastically.

You rolled your eyes. “And that's my cue to leave," you said, getting up. "Catch you all later.”

*^~^*

You made great use of Tony's money by treating your grandma to a lovely bouquet of roses and a box of her favorite chocolates. When you arrived at The Doting Tree, the scent of Fabuloso greeted you, mixing with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee from the communal area. Passing through the lobby, you exchanged a warm smile and a wave with Joan, the friendly receptionist stationed behind the oak desk.

You knocked eagerly on the door of room 508, and the sound of your grandmother's footsteps grew louder before she swung open the door.

"Y/N!" she exclaimed.

"Hey, grandma," you greeted her with a smile. "These are for you," you said, handing her the roses and chocolates.

"Oh, you didn't have to, sweetheart," she replied, taking her gifts.

You hugged her and were instantly transported back to his childhood. Her warm embrace was a comfort you didn't know you were missing.

"Please, come on in, Y/N," she said as she broke the hug.

As your grandma whipped up a delightful batch of creamy, rich hot chocolate, the cozy aroma filled the room, enveloping you in warmth and comfort. You lost track of time, immersed in lively conversations and shared memories as you leisurely walked down memory lane. She asked about your work, and you carefully selected the most positive stories to share: the most recent Stark Gala and the Avengers community outreach efforts. You wouldn't dream of telling her about the near miss on your last mission when Nat's impressive scissor-leg neck grab saved you from a potentially fatal situation.

I can't believe how quickly time has flown by," your grandma exclaimed, glancing at the clock. "Movie night starts downstairs in fifteen minutes."

"Oh, in that case, I'll leave you to get ready," you replied, getting up.

"Nonsense," she insisted. "I'd love for you to join me. Tonight is Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, a classic from the Golden Age of Hollywood."

You quickly checked your phone and were relieved to see no missed calls or texts from Fury, Maria, or Steve.

"Great, I've never seen it, and I’m free for the rest of the day," you said.

"Wonderful, let’s go," your grandma replied.

*^~^*

When you and your grandmother arrived in the small community theater, the Doting Tree staff handed out popcorn and queued up the movie. You followed your grandma to two empty seats near the end of the row. 

Hi, Y/G/N, I was hoping to see you here tonight," the brunette woman with half glasses beside her confessed.

"I wouldn't have missed this for anything. You know Jimmy Stewart is my favorite!" your grandma proclaimed. "Oh, Betty, this is my granddaughter Y/N, she's one of those Avengers!" she proudly introduced.

You felt slightly embarrassed by the attention but extended your hand to Betty. "Hi, Betty. It's great to meet you."

"It's lovely to meet you, dear. Y/G/N has told me so much about you!" Betty said.

"All good, I hope?" you joked.

"Of course. I don't know how you all do it, but thank you for everything you've done."

"It's my honor, ma'am,” you said.

"Excuse me?" a man in a sweater vest behind you said, catching your attention. "I couldn't help but overhear. You mentioned you're one of the Avengers?" 

"That's right," you replied.

"Do you happen to know James? He's one of our volunteers. My buddy Walter swears he's an Avenger."

"James?" you asked, puzzled. "We don't have anyone named—"

"Alright, folks," a familiar voice interrupted.

"Bucky," you whispered to yourself in surprise.

Your friend stood at the front of the room, looking effortlessly stylish in a casual navy crew neck shirt, perfectly fitted jeans, and trendy sneakers. His beaming smile transformed his entire appearance, making him almost unrecognizable.

"Tonight's movie is one of my favorites, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington," Bucky announced, clapping his hands together. "Jimmy Stewart was one of my favorite actors when I was a kid."

"Not to mention Jean Arthur!" someone shouted from the back row, and the room erupted in laughter.

“Alright, Stacy, can you turn off the lights, please?” Bucky asked one of the staff members.

As the idealistic young Jefferson Smith was appointed to the United States Senate, your attention continually drifted to Bucky. You observed as he quietly passed a box of Nestle crunch bites down the row to one of the residents and whispered something to the woman beside him, who laughed in response.

*^~^*

When the credits rolled, and the lights came on in the theater, you lingered at the back of the room while your grandmother caught up with her friends. Perhaps it was the spy-like instincts that Natasha had instilled in you, but you couldn’t take your eyes off him. You were captivated by the transformation in his demeanor. The man who once seemed only to wear a scowl now appeared happier than you had ever seen him.

You walked over slowly as he was engrossed in conversation with a man you recognized as Richard Swanson. According to Joan, he was one of The Doting Tree’s oldest residents in time and age. Tall and slender, with a confident posture that hinted at a lifetime of discipline and care, he still boasted a thick mane of hair that belied his age. The strands, once a rich chestnut, now shimmered with a distinguished silver hue, the only overt sign of the passing years.

"What unit were you in, Barnes?" Mr. Swanson asked.

"107th Infantry Regiment, sir," Bucky replied.

"No kidding?” said Mr. Swanson. “I was in the 103rd."

"I remember that regiment," Bucky said, snapping his fingers. "You were guarding the Trisssana Bridge, right?"

"That's right," Mr. Swanson replied. “My cousin was in the 107th Regiment. Maybe you knew him? Tim Dugan.”

"Wow," Bucky sighed, his voice trailing off as he paused to reflect. "Tim Dugan. I haven't heard that name in almost 80 years," Bucky said, his eyes distant with memories. "I did know him. He was a good man," Bucky reminisced, a hint of wistfulness in his voice.

He was indeed," Mr. Swanson sighed, his tired eyes reflecting the long day he had endured. The elderly gentleman checked his antique pocket watch. "I've got to get going. It's almost past my bedtime," he chuckled softly as he patted Bucky on the shoulder with a sense of fondness. "See you next time, Barnes."

"See you, Mr. Swanson," Buck called out, his voice carrying a tinge of warmth and respect.

"Bucky?" you said softly, careful not to startle him as you approached.

He turned at the sound of your voice, his eyes meeting yours with surprise. "Y/N? What are you doing here? I thought you were visiting your grandmother today?"

"I am; she lives here," you explained, a gentle smile gracing your lips.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.

Bucky took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, the weight of his thoughts evident in the furrow of his brow. "Alright, look,” running his hand through his hair nervously. “Dr. Raynor thought it would be good for me to volunteer here. Spend some time with people from my generation," he said. "I resisted at first, but now..." he paused, looking around at the bustling activity of the assisted living community. "It's nice.”

"That's awesome, Buck. It's clear that the residents appreciate having you around, but why didn't you mention it to us?" You inquired.

"I just didn't want to deal with the inevitable jokes and questions from everyone," he explained.

"Oh, come on, Bucky. It wouldn't have been that bad. They would have been supportive," you reassured.

"After you left, Tony told the bike story and bought you a kid’s bicycle as a joke," Bucky deadpanned.

"Jackass," you remarked dryly.

"See," Bucky declared.

"But a supportive jackass, Buck. We all give each other shit, but at the end of the day, we're a family," you insisted. "Everyone would get it."

"Maybe," he mused. "When I'm here, I'm not an Avenger, The Winter Soldier, The White Wolf. Hell, I’m not even Bucky."

"I've noticed that, James," you said with a smirk.

Before he could respond, your grandma and her friend Betty strolled over to where you were standing.

“James, I just had to tell you how much I enjoyed tonight's movie. You have impeccable taste,” Betty said, touching his metal arm.

“Thanks a lot,” Bucky replied.

“Will you join us for our knitting class next week?” she asked eagerly.

“Work can be unpredictable, but I'm planning on it,” he responded.

“Wonderful!” Betty exclaimed. “I've been knitting a scarf for you, honey.”

Bucky blushed. “Oh, thank you. I can't wait to see it.”

"I see you’ve met James, Y/N,” your grandma said. “We’ve so enjoyed having him here the last few months.”

“Oh,” you said, looking between Bucky and your grandmother. “Yeah, I just had to come up and tell him how much I loved the movie, too.”

“Right,” Bucky said. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Well, I’m feeling a bit tuckered out, Y/N,” your grandmother said. I think I'll call it a night.”

“Okay,” you said. “I'll walk you back to your room.”

“Okay, goodnight, James,” your grandmother said.

“Goodnight, Y/G/N,” Bucky replied.

You turned back toward him before following your grandma out of the room and whispered, “Don’t leave. I'll be down in a few minutes.”

Bucky nodded in agreement.

*^~^*

As you stepped off the elevator and entered the lobby, the warm glow of the chandeliers illuminated the spacious communal room. Your eyes scanned the area, searching for Bucky. After a moment, you spotted him sitting on the plush sofa, engrossed in a copy of Lord of the Rings, which he had plucked from the nearby shelf.

Sitting beside him, you couldn't help but ask, "So, what do people think James does for a living?"

With a half-smile, he replied, "Well, those who don't know who I am think I’m a mechanic at that garage on Wilshire."

The image of Bucky as a mechanic made you chuckle, and you leaned in to hear more.

"The ones who do, like Mr. Swanson, don't give a damn about who I am or who I‘ve been," he continued, returning the book to the shelf. "All they care about is living each day to the fullest."

As you silently nodded, you reflected on his words, feeling the weight of the conversation settle in. "I understand, Buck," you said, patting his thigh. "I'm glad you're finding fulfillment here, and you can trust me to keep this between us."

"Thank you," he sighed, a sense of relief in his voice.

"Let’s go home," Bucky said, a hint of determination in his tone.

As you both said goodbye to Joan in the lobby, you stepped out into the refreshing early evening breeze.

"Alright, see you at home," you said, heading towards the bus stop.

"You took the bus here?" Bucky inquired.

"Yeah, just didn't feel like driving today," you replied.

“Want a ride? I've got Nat's motorcycle," he offered, nodding towards the bike.

You arched an eyebrow, "Does she know you have it?" You knew Natasha didn't just lend her bike to anyone. You had learned that the hard way during one of your early missions together.

"Yep, she allows me to borrow the motorcycle in exchange for helping with recruit training," Bucky explained as he slipped on his leather jacket.

"Alright, I'll take your word for it," you agreed.

As you were getting ready to hop on the back of the motorcycle, you spotted the extra helmet hanging on the back. 

“Really?” Bucky quipped. “You never wear a helmet out in the field.”

“I know,” glancing back at The Doting Tree, “I just want to keep a promise to my grandmother,” you said with a smirk.

“Good call,” he replied with a grin.

You fastened the helmet and hopped on the back of the bike, wrapping your arms around Bucky’s waist. With a twist of the throttle, the bike roared to life as Bucky revved up the engine. Together, you both zoomed out of the parking lot, heading back toward the compound with a newfound sense of camaraderie and understanding.

[dontsearchformyaccount]

Y/n: DAD , SHE SAID YES ! I ASKED HER TO BE MY GIRLFRIEND AND SHE SAID YES!!!

Tony : Thats great .Now who is this women i have to give a dad talk to ?

Y/n: You already know her ...its Natasha

Tony:Excuse me, what ?!!!!

Tony: Altough you have great taste , dating colleagues, exspecially red heads is not allowed.

Y/n: seriously? Mum worked for you before you married her !And wtf Dad

Tony: That was differen-fair point .

If she hurts you i'll kill her .

Y/n:Yeah good luck trying that

Tony:What was that?

Y/n:Nothing !

*walks out *

Pepper:She's got a point

Tony :How long have you been standing there ?! No -you know forget it i need a drink.

Pepper:Tony No

[literaryavenger]

New Year's Eve

Summary: A game of two truths and a lie reveals to the team a fact about the you that Bucky can’t seem to stop thinking about.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Female Reader

Warnings: Minimal use of Y/N. Language 'cause why not. A lot of fluff. My poor attempts at being funny. Mutual pining, idiots in love. Self-deprecating thoughts.

Word Count: 3.2K

A/N: Happy New Year's Eve! Thanks for all the messages when I was sick, I'm finally feeling better and I'm negative for Covid! I really wanted to post something for New Year's Eve and this came from a fever dream I had when I was sick, lol. I hope it's any good and someone enjoys it! A particular thank you to @ordelixx for helping me with this story!💘I've only started posting here about a month and a half but I'm really enjoying it and feeling more and more comfortable in my writing. I hope I'm also getting better at it. Anyway, I have big plans for the New Year that I hope you'll enjoy! This year hasn't been great for me, but I'm planning on working harder than ever to make sure the next one is a year I can be proud of. I hope you guys have a nice last day of 2023 and an amazing start of 2024! Love you all.💘

Masterlist

“Ok, your turn, Kill Bill. Two truths and a lie, go.” Tony says, referring to the fact that you fight with swords, making you roll your eyes before you join in on the laughter.

“Ok, uhm...” you try not to look at anyone so you don’t give away the answer “I have a teddy bear that I sleep with, I have bungee jumped from the top of the tower and I’ve never had a New Year’s kiss.”

You look back up to the room and wait for their guesses.

It’s a Friday night and the people that remained in the Tower for the holidays decided to have a little game night.

Every year the same people stay around, having nowhere in particular to go, and spend Christmas together. 

Clint and Scott usually spend this time with their families, this year Thor decided to go to New Asgard with Bruce and Loki to visit Val and Korg, and Peter decided to spend it with aunt May and Happy.

You usually alternate between going to visit your family and staying in the tower each year, and this one was your turn to go to your first home.

You came back the day after Christmas, never being one to miss Tony’s New Year’s Eve party that’s gonna happen in two days now.

“Well, we know she has a teddy bear.” Wanda says.

“Do we know that?” Tony turns to you, narrowing his eyes. “Do you have one?”

“Yes, she does, we’ve seen it” Natasha answers for you while you glance at Bucky, praying he doesn’t put together that they’re talking about the teddy bear he gifted you for Valentine’s Day this year along with flowers. 

Natasha and Wanda were more happy than you when you told them, sustaining that he did it because he liked you until you pointed out that he gave flowers to them too, because he’s sweet and a gentleman and that’s just who he is.

They wouldn’t let up on the fact that neither of them got a teddy bear though, and you would have agreed with them but Bucky never really did anything else about it so you decided to let it go and not read too much into it.

You're brought back to the present by Tony.

“Ok, so she has one. Then it’s gotta be the New Year’s kiss, everyone has had one at least once in their life,” he was looking at your reaction very closely while talking, but you did your best to keep an easy smile and not give anything away.

“Even Captain Virgin over there had one last year.” he adds vaguely waving towards Steve’s general direction. 

You crack at the nickname and at the undignified sound Steve made while blushing and glancing at Nat that shared that kiss with him.

“Tony, there’s no way that she bungee jumped from the roof without us knowing, that’s gotta be the lie.” Sam interjects, also watching you closely for any signs of a reaction that you manage not to give.

“Alright, just take your guesses, people.” You say to the group.

“New Year’s Kiss.” Tony all but yelled, Natasha and Wanda agreeing with him.

“Bungee jump.” Sam says and Steve and Bucky agree, then they all seem to hold their breath as they wait for your answer.

It’s not a surprise that even these stupid little games cause a lot of competition amongst the team.

“Neither.”-you finally said and let out a laugh when they all groan in annoyance while taking their shots for guessing wrong.

“WAIT- you bungee jumped off the ROOF? When?!” Steve seems more concerned than anything.

“Well, you know a few months ago when we happened to all be on different missions at the same time?” They nod, not knowing where you're going with this “Clint and I came back first from ours, we were bored and there was no one around to stop us from doing anything stupid so…” you trail off, shrugging while laughing. 

Steve looks shocked, Sam is laughing his ass off while Tony immediately goes to look for the security footage.

They all cheered while watching you throw yourself off the roof, Clint's yells and laughter could be heard, and then Steve shakes his head while joining you in the laughter when you see Clint take his turn and scream like a little girl while you fall to the ground laughing on the video. 

Once you all composed yourselves, Tony pokes Wanda’s arm “I thought you said she had a teddy bear.” he's looking at her like she brought him on a treasure hunt and then betrayed him and left him for dead on a deserted island.

“She does! She got it from-” you interrupt her before she can finish the sentence, blushing a little and avoiding Bucky’s eyes.

“I do have a teddy bear, I just don’t sleep with it.” you say, shrugging.

“Oh, come on, that’s cheating!” Natasha whines.

“It’s really not, just because I do have one it doesn’t mean I didn’t tell a lie about it” you laugh at her pout.

“Wait a minute, so you’ve never had a New Year’s kiss?” Tony looks at you like you suddenly grew two heads.

“It’s not a big deal. Funny thing is, I have had boyfriends during New Year’s Eve, I just never happen to spend the day with them.” you say absentmindedly while thinking back at all the parties you’ve been to over the years to celebrate the new year.

“Really?” it's so quiet you almost missed it, your eyes snapping up to meet Bucky’s that were already looking at you.

“Is that so hard to believe?” The room seems to go quiet as everybody looks at you two, but you're too focused on each other to notice.

“I didn’t- I mean…” his cheeks started to turn a little pink as he seemed to have trouble finishing his sentence “It’s just you’re very pretty, who wouldn’t want to kiss you?”

You didn’t know what to say to that, you start blushing too while opening and closing your mouth a couple of times, looking like a damn fish.

You settle for a quiet ‘thank you’ with a smile that he shyly returns, neither of you noticing the glances passed by everyone else.

The whole team is convinced that there’s something between you and Bucky, but both of you always deny it and don’t seem to read too much into each other’s actions, always dismissing the glances and lingering touches as friendly affection even though you’re not really that close.

But really what else could it be?

The team lets the moment end and the game goes on, everyone keeps drinking and having fun until it gets really late and you all decide to call it a night.

Bucky goes to his bedroom and gets ready for sleep but he can’t seem to focus on anything else but you.

He really doesn’t understand how can anybody see your pretty self when you’ve just woken up, no makeup and your eyes full of sleep and not want to kiss you, let alone when you are all dolled up in a pretty golden dresses like you do every New Year’s. 

Every year it gets harder for him not to just grab you and kiss you, hell every day is pretty much torture to see you around the Compound and not get to be with you the way he wants to.

But he has to keep his hands to himself because there’s no way you could actually like him like that. 

He’s even tried to drop hints here and there like giving you the teddy bear for Valentine’s Day but, except for the cute shade of pink that your face turned, you still didn’t seem all that interested.

Still, that didn’t stop him from thinking what it would be like if you did like him and fantasize about being your first New Year’s kiss and maybe even your last first kiss.

At the same time you were in your own room getting ready for bed while your own thoughts kept going back to the moment you shared with Bucky in the living room. 

You didn’t know if you were more embarrassed because you actually told the team you’ve never had a kiss on New Year’s Eve or happy because Bucky called you pretty.

If it was anyone else you wouldn’t even think twice about it, but coming from him it just felt like you were being complimented for the first time ever. 

Everytime you thought about it you felt all warm and fuzzy inside, and at this point the moment was pretty much on loop in your mind.

The more you think about it the more you feel your face heat up, sleep not coming easily as you slip into Bucky filled dreams.

The next day everybody’s hanging out in the living room, most of them nursing a hangover from last night. You get ready for a last minute shopping trip to try and find a new dress for New Year’s Eve.

When you get to the living room you see Steve grinning at a disgruntled Tony, Wanda, Sam and Natasha who are obviously very hangover and nowhere near as amused as the blonde supersoldier. 

Bucky’s attention is on you as soon as you're in his field of vision and no one fails to notice it, except you of course, your own attention on Wanda and Natasha sprawled on the couch.

“Well, I was gonna ask you if you wanted to come shopping with me,” you start watching from one to the other, as amused as Steve at everyone’s inability to contain themselves when drinking. “but I don’t think that’s happening.” 

“Bite me, YLN.” Is all Nat says.

Wanda, on the other hand, is a little gentler. “I can come with you, if you want.” she says sweetly.

“That’s okay, Wands.” you smile at her “just rest and drink lots of water.”

You turn around, saying bye to everyone and making your way out. As soon as the doors of the elevator close, everyone turns to Bucky that's not even pretending not to be staring anymore.

Not that anyone could ignore the longing look on Bucky’s face as he watches you walk away.

“Buck,” Steve starts talking, glancing at everyone before setting his gaze back on his best friend. “we need to talk.”

“Okay…” he slowly drags out, unsure if he even wants Steve to keep going.

“Well, we’ve been noticing some things lately…” He’s unsure of how to say this. “Between you and Y/N.”

Bucky’s cheeks start to turn a slight shade of pink, but he’s still not sure where Steve’s going with this so he says nothing.

“So we thought” he gestures around at everybody. “that maybe we should-”

“We know you like her, and we want to help you get with her.” Tony interrupts Steve, quickly getting to the point.

At Steve’s glare, Tony merely raises his hands in surrender saying, “Listen, Capsicle, I’m way too hungover to take the panoramic route. Let’s just get this over with.”

“Yeah, Stark’s right.” Sam says, turning Bucky whose face is fully red now. “You have a weak ass game, man. Let us help you.”

They all look at the brunette supersoldier while waiting for his answer. He chews on his lip while looking at the expectant faces of his friends, before letting out a deep sigh.

“How would you even help me?” He says quietly, neither accepting nor denying their help just yet.

“Well, we know Y/N,” Wanda says.

“Yeah, we can tell you what turns her on.” Natasha smirked, before Wanda flicks her ear making her let out an ‘ow’ with a slight pout.

“What she means is,” she glares at Natasha “we can tell you what she likes, you know. Maybe help you get closer to her.”

Bucky shakes his head lightly “This is not a good idea. And it doesn’t even matter if she doesn’t like me.”

Wanda and Natasha seem to have a silent conversation, ending with Natasha raising her eyebrow at Wanda and Wanda just sighing with a soft ‘fine’.

“She does like you.” Wanda turns back to Bucky.

“She’s just convinced that you don’t like her like that.” Natasha says with a roll of her eyes.

Bucky still wasn’t completely convinced, but he agreed nonetheless. Maybe it was the glimmer of hope the girls gave him, but if there was even the slightest chance you could actually like him, he owed it to himself to try. 

So he let the team make a plan to get you guys together, hoping to god he wouldn’t come to regret it.

You come home a few hours later, super excited to have found the perfect dress for the party the next night.

Bucky thought you were just so cute, all smiles and giggles.

Wanda and Nat talked you into having the last girls night of the year, although it didn’t really take much convincing.

And so the plan begins.

You’re relaxing on your bed, Wanda lying next to you, your head on her lap, and Nat sprawled on the love seat near the window close to your bed.

You’re wearing bathrobes, sheet masks on your faces as you watch a cheesy romcom that you’re so embarrassingly into you don’t even notice the girls exchange a look and nod at each other.

Wanda clears her throat and then begins talking, as casually as she can. “So, how come you never told us you never had a New Year’s kiss?”

They had to approach the subject somehow, right?

“I don’t know,” you say absentmindedly and then shrug, your attention still on the Tv. “didn’t think it was important.” 

“Sure it isn’t.” Nat said, and her tone took your attention away from the movie for the first time since it started.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Tasha?” she simply shrugs, an innocent look in the face.

“It doesn’t mean anything” she says, her attention seemingly on the movie “I mean, if it doesn’t bother you, it doesn’t bother me.”

“Why would it bother me?” you frown, you don't understand what's so weird about this.

“Well, some people might find it a little…” Wanda trails off.

“Sad?” Natasha ends for her.

“It’s not like I’ve never kissed anyone.” you're starting to get a little defensive.

“We know that, sweetie.” Wanda coos, stroking your hair while you look up at her.

“We really didn’t mean anything by it.” Natasha ends, giving you an apologetic look.

“Yeah, whatever.” is all you say, and you turn your eyes back to the tv, your attention nowhere near it.

Natasha and Wanda can basically hear the gears turn in your head and give each other one last glance. 

Part one of the plan is complete.

The next day goes through like usual, the team spending basically the whole morning together.

It’s a tradition, having the last breakfast of the year together, watching the last movie, having the last lunch and so on. Doing all the lasts together.

It’s silly, but it’s a tradition you've all come to be very fond of. 

The afternoon comes and you and the girls spend it getting ready for the party, last night’s conversation almost forgotten.

Almost.

As you got to the party the music was deafening before you even stepped out of the elevator and, once you did, you were immediately immersed in a sea of perfume and cologne and, like every other Stark party extravaganza, you didn’t know about 98% of the people there. 

You quickly find the team, as outgoing as most of them are, you usually spend most of the night together because it’s the last night of the year, last party and, again, it's your tradition.

You talk, you joke, you laugh but the more you drink the more you keep thinking about your conversation with the girls last night.

Was it really that sad that you’ve never started a new year with a kiss?

Midnight came sooner than you would’ve liked and your teammates decide to ask you a sobering question.

“So, who are you kissing?” Tony asks very casually.

You turn around confused, the team’s eyes all on you. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, nobody told you?” Sam says, looking around him “We’re all kissing someone tonight.”

“I- You- What?” you glance towards Bucky so quickly he almost thought he imagined it.

“Well, Romanoff is kissing Rogers, I’m obviously kissing Pepper and Wanda is kissing Wilson.” Tony said, before specifying while pointing at the last two “As friends, obviously.”

“So, you’re all kissing someone?” You look at everyone except the one person you actually want to look at.

Something inside of you just believes that he would nod too and a beautiful woman that you could never compare to would appear at his side.

“Well,” Steve starts. “not all of us…”

He trails off and, following his gaze, you land on the very pair of blue eyes you were trying to avoid.

Suddenly everyone else scatters and it was just you and Bucky. You don't know what to say, but you feel like you can't look away from him now.

What the hell is happening to you?

You’re talking before you can even stop yourself “You know, we could also kiss. As friends.” you add, realizing what you just said, your eyes wide with your own surprise.

He’s about to say something, but you don’t give him a chance to get a sound out before you’re backtracking so fast you might actually fall out the window.

“You don’t have to. Obviously. It’s not like I’d make you.” you chuckled awkwardly, but you can’t stop yourself from rambling “Unless you wanted to. But why would you want to? It’s not like you’re missing anything. I’m not anything special.”

You can hear the countdown starting, but it sounds distant to your ears as your heart pounds faster. “I mean, I’m sure you’re a good kisser. Why wouldn’t you be? Not that you’re like a lady’s man.”

Bucky glances around him, the team giving him encouraging looks as they near zero and you just keep going “But like you were, you know. Not that it’s a bad thi-”

You're thankfully interrupted abruptly by Bucky’s lips on yours just as everyone yells ‘Happy New Year’ and gold and black confetti starts falling down on you.

You can't even begin to comprehend what's happening but your body does, kissing him back almost immediately.

It feels like forever and also too soon when he pulls away, you can't even hearing the chaos around you anymore.

All that exists is you and Bucky and his eyes and his arms around your waist and yours around his neck and his lips that you wanted to kiss again and kiss forever and never stop.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that” he says after a few seconds. Or maybe days. Weeks? Hours? It doesn’t matter.

All that matters is the bright smile he gives you when you say “Me too.”

He kisses you again, but this time the spell is broken by the team’s whistles and cheers. 

When you pull away you’re both blushing a little, you glance around you and see all the smug faces of the idiots you love to death, Bucky’s attention never leaving you.

“And by the way,” Bucky says, gaining your attention once more. “you have more qualities than you think,” he then pointed at your chest “You have this.”

You looked down to where he was pointing before saying “I do have great tits, yes.”

When you looked back at him he was blushing even harder and looked like he was having a hard time maintaining eye contact, while you were more relaxed now that the kiss took away all the awkwardness, but trying hard not to laugh. 

“... I meant heart” he said after a few moments of silence.

“Either or.” you answered, shrugging and when you heard the snickers of the team around you, you couldn’t help but join them, followed by a still blushing Bucky.

Yep, this year is definitely gonna be an interesting one.

[cece693]

Personal Bodyguard

pairing: tony stark x male reader tags: you can't tell me Tony isn't bi or at least experimented in his youth, you become his personal bodyguard after the cave fiasco and iron man revelation, enemies-to-friends-to lovers, Tony really needs a hug, reader is set to become his friend (and more), military background

You’re used to working in tense environments. The military taught you that complacency is death and that vigilance is survival. You’ve seen your fair share of conflict, learned to read people and situations at a glance. That’s probably why Pepper Potts sought you out after Tony Stark’s dramatic return from Afghanistan. She looked you up and down with calculating eyes, recognized a bit of herself in your “don’t mess with me” attitude, and decided on the spot—you were the best candidate to protect Tony Stark from himself, and from the new, dangerous world he was plunging into.

Tony’s penthouse overlooks the Malibu coastline, the sun reflecting off the ocean waves and onto polished floors. There he stands—fresh from the workshop, grease on his tank top and that lopsided grin that only half-masks the shadows under his eyes. He spots you, sizes you up, and crosses his arms. “Pep, this is the solution you found?” Tony gestures at you dismissively. “A glorified babysitter?”

Pepper forces a polite smile. “A bodyguard, Tony.” You don’t rise to his bait. The best reaction here is none at all—just a stony expression. Let him get it out of his system. He cocks an eyebrow at your silence, clearly expecting some snark in return.

“Fine,” he says, turning on his heel. “Follow me. Or don’t. Whatever." Pepper shakes her head apologetically as she goes to leave. Before she goes, she places a hand on your shoulder, giving you an unspoken good luck. You already know you’ll need it.

Tony tries his best to make your life difficult. He’ll disappear from his home at odd hours, use his snark to try and aggravate you, or do something reckless like attempt a suit flight test above the Malibu cliffs. However, you're never that far behind and your patience is endless. One night, he’s just touched down too hard in the Mark II, crashing through his garage and damaging several of his expensive cars. You rush in, weapon at the ready, scanning for threats.

“Relax,” Tony says, struggling to peel off the broken armor. “It’s just me doing some, uh, routine test improvements.” You exhale slowly, then calmly dismantle your sidearm. No threats—except the one Tony poses to himself.

“You know,” you say eventually, picking up a piece of the shattered gauntlet, “if you keep messing around with these half-finished upgrades, eventually I won’t just be your bodyguard. I’ll be the one scraping you off the ground.”

Tony stares at you, momentarily struck by the genuine concern in your voice, before clearing his throat. “Point taken,” he mutters, but for the first time, he seems less antagonistic—and almost thankful.

The slow thaw between you and Tony continues. He starts sharing details of the Iron Man suit, half to show off and half because he’s realized you’re more at ease when you know everything that’s going on. You learn that behind the smug exterior, Tony is propelled by guilt, determination, and a heart that aches to do genuine good. And for your part, despite your initial refusal to get personally involved, you find yourself caring about him—protecting him matters, but so does understanding him.

Late nights often find the two of you in the workshop. Tony’s hyper-focused on some new repulser tech while you stand guard, occasionally offering your own insight to whatever he was working on. You’d never guess Tony would be the type to listen, but he does, especially when your suggestions keep him from blowing up half the lab. He’ll acknowledge your tips with a half-smile, or a nod that says more than words.

Pepper noticed the shift. She’d smile at you in passing, relief evident in her eyes. She once patted your shoulder and said, “You’re good for him. He trusts you, and that’s not something I say lightly.” Rhodey, Tony’s closest friend, warmed up to you fast. He appreciated having another military mind around. When Tony got lost in his own arrogance, Rhodey and you would share an exasperated look.

Then everything changes again when Tony becomes an Avenger. Suddenly, it’s not just small-scale threats or paparazzi you have to worry about—it’s cosmic forces, alien invasions, global catastrophes. You do your best to keep Tony safe in these new, unpredictable situations, but it’s a challenge.

The Avengers team is a powder keg of personalities. Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, openly clashes with Tony over leadership and moral ideals. You see how the tension weighs on Tony; he deflects with sarcasm, but you’ve come to know the signs of when he’s hurting.

One night at the tower, you’re standing off to the side while Tony and Steve butt heads—again. "Take away the armor," Steve says, voice steely, "and what are you?" The words hang in the air. Tony’s jaw tightens, and you can practically see his heart sink. It’s a cheap shot. And it’s wrong. You step forward before Tony can snap back with a trademark insult. There’s a calm coolness in your voice, the kind that hushes even the Captain.

“Tony Stark is the mind that built that suit,” you say evenly. “He’s the one who sees solutions where everyone else sees dead ends. If you take away the armor, you’ve still got the man who pulled himself out of a cave and saved his own life with scrap metal—because that’s who he is. He’s more than the suit, Rogers, and you know it.”

Steve meets your gaze and steps forward, but you aren’t intimidated. There were lines you simply wouldn’t let him cross, not tonight, not after he delivered that cheap shot at Tony without even knowing him. You can see Tony stiffen beside you, as if ready to jump in—or bolt. But you’re not about to let Steve’s words cut him down.

“Think very carefully about what you say next, Rogers,” you warn, voice low and steady. “Because none of you would be here—Avengers, Stark Tower, anything—if it weren’t for this man. Armor or no armor.”

For a split second, you can feel everyone’s eyes on you. Clint shifts uneasily near the back, Natasha straightens from her casual lean against the wall, and even Bruce lifts his head from the tablet he’s been absorbed in. Steve’s jaw tightens; he clearly didn’t expect you to stand your ground so bluntly—and you don’t care. Your top priority is Tony’s well-being, not theirs. With nothing more to say, you turn on your heel and head for the workshop.

By the time you reach the corridor leading to Tony’s private workspace, the echo of your own footsteps has become a steady, reassuring beat. Only then do you register the soft tread following behind you. He’s close—but conspicuously silent, which is out of character for a man who thrives on quips and banter.

“Sir, you have arrived at the workshop,” Jarvis’s polite voice chimes overhead, and the door slides open with a hiss.

You step inside and finally turn around. Tony lingers just past the threshold, his eyes lowered. His silence seems almost heavy, like he’s struggling to find the right words. “I never asked you to defend me,” he murmurs. “But you…you did. Why?” The workshop’s lights glow softly, illuminating half-built armor pieces and scattered blueprints. You let the sound of humming machinery fill the short gap before you speak.

“Because you needed someone to,” you say simply, though your voice carries an undercurrent of heat—residual frustration from your confrontation with Steve. “And because I wanted to.”

Tony’s gaze flickers upward—he looks uncertain, almost disarmed. “I can handle myself,” he says, though he doesn’t quite meet your eyes. It’s a weak protest, more habit than conviction.

You exhale, crossing your arms. “I know you can. Doesn’t mean you have to face it alone. Especially when the hits are coming from the people supposed to have your back.”

“You caught me off guard,” he admits, voice low, “standing up for me like that. Especially in front of the team.”

You stand your ground, letting the seriousness of the moment settle in. “You act like I never stand up for you.”

A wry huff of laughter escapes him. “Not the same way. Usually, you’re telling me not to blow up half my lab or reminding me to eat something other than coffee. This time you had my back when it counted.”

“Isn’t that why I’m here?” you ask, tilting your head. “I’m your bodyguard, Mr. Stark. That means I protect you—against outside threats and inside threats too. Even if that threat’s a super soldier with a knack for colorful speeches.”

“So that’s it?” he asks, a thin note of vulnerability in his tone. “You did it because it’s your job?” You take in his tense posture—shoulders rigid, hand flexing at his side. Tony’s never been good at showing his more vulnerable edges. Carefully, you move closer, letting your voice soften.

“Let’s get one thing straight. Defending you isn’t just me ‘clocking in.’ I do it because I care. Because I know you’re more than just the suit, no matter what Steve says.” Tony looks up at you in surprise, but you're not done yet. "If this was just part of my job, I wouldn't be spending all my free time down here with you. I would've jumped at the chance to quit when you offered it on a silver platter."

Tony cracks a half-smile, remembering when he outright tried to bribe you to quit, and you surprisingly rejected his offer. The money could've set you for life, supported you and a family if you so desired, but you simply shook your head and informed him about a meeting he had in the morning.

Tony moves closer, so close you can count the faint freckles along his cheekbones. “I hated the idea of having a bodyguard,” Tony admits, voice low. “But I’ve come to realize how much I needed you.” Your heart stutters, unsure of how to respond. Tony swallows thickly, looking uncharacteristically unsure. There’s no witty remark, no deflecting sarcasm. It’s just him, raw and honest, baring feelings you never thought he’d share.

“You’ve become one of the closest people in my life,” he continues. “I trust you in ways I don’t trust anyone else. Hell, Pepper might be the only other person who gets me anywhere close to this.” He hesitates, eyes flicking to your lips before returning to your gaze. “And…I’ve been trying to figure out how to say I might—well—I feel something for you.”

Your stomach flips, warmth blooming in your chest. There’s something surreal about this: Tony Stark, the man who refused to even acknowledge your presence at first, now openly admitting he cares—that he wants something more than just having you as security detail.

A ghost of a smile curves your lips. “I might feel something for you, too.” Tony’s grin is immediate—relief and mischief dancing in his eyes. He leans in, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades.

“Do I have to make an appointment to kiss my bodyguard,” he murmurs, “or is this—” You cut him off by closing the distance, your lips finding his in a slow, tentative kiss.

[amethystarachnid]

MRS. STARK

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

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

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 8k

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of kids, mentions of pregnancy (only at the end), paparazzis are a pain in the ass

ᯓ★ Timeline: not in a defined timeline, more like an AU

ᯓ★ Request: Tony stark × marriage of convenience au Tony loses his company reputation because of his playboy reputation. The board of directors demands that he fix this. Pepper suggests an arranged marriage for this. At that moment, he meets reader who is evicted from her home and needs money and proposes. In time, love develops between them. (@binsan)

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

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

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

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

You pace the small, dingy room you’ve called home for the past few years, the weight of eviction papers heavy in your hand. The landlord's voice echoes in your mind—“You’ve got two weeks. I can’t do this anymore.” It’s not as though you didn’t see this coming. The bills have piled up, and opportunities have been scarce. With no family to turn to and nowhere to go, you wonder how much lower things can get.

As you sit on the fraying edge of your sofa, rubbing your temples, you wonder what your next move could be. The clock ticks steadily, matching the racing thoughts in your mind. I need a miracle, you think, feeling the weight of your situation press down on you.

Meanwhile, across the city, Tony Stark is having his own personal crisis.

Tony lounges in a sleek leather chair in his office at Stark Industries, the weight of the boardroom conversation still lingering in the air. His playboy reputation, once charming and even beneficial to his image, has started to backfire. The board of directors is growing impatient—no, they’re furious—and they’ve made it crystal clear that his antics are ruining the company’s reputation. Something needs to change. Immediately.

Pepper Potts, his ever-practical assistant, stands across from him, arms crossed as she regards him with a mixture of sympathy and exasperation.

“We need damage control,” she says, her voice steady but firm. “The media is eating up every single party, every single fling. They don’t take you seriously anymore, and frankly, neither does the board.”

Tony raises an eyebrow, taking a casual sip of whiskey. “What’s your plan, Potts? A heartfelt apology tour? I’ll have to fit that between saving the world and engineering cutting-edge tech, you know.”

Pepper doesn’t flinch. “You need stability. Something solid, responsible. The kind of image that reassures people you’re not just a billionaire playboy. You need…” She hesitates, as if weighing her next words carefully. “…a wife.”

Tony nearly chokes on his drink, coughing out a laugh. “A wife? Are you serious?”

“Dead serious, Tony.” Pepper’s eyes narrow. “The board will back off if they see you’ve settled down. It shows commitment. That you're thinking long-term. And if the right woman is involved—someone respectable—then maybe people will start seeing you as the man behind the genius, not just the man at the party.”

Tony leans back, considering her words more seriously than he expected to. Marriage had never been on his radar—it’s never even been a blip. But this is different. A strategic move. A necessary one.

“Alright, say I’m interested,” he says slowly. “Where do you propose I find a wife willing to marry me for show?”

Pepper sighs. “There are plenty of women—”

“I’m not interested in one of those society climbers, Pepper. I don’t need anyone looking for a fifteen-minute spotlight or a big payout.”

Just as Tony is about to dismiss the entire conversation, the door to his office swings open. You stand there, slightly out of breath, a bundle of papers clutched to your chest.

Pepper blinks in surprise, but Tony just arches an eyebrow. “And you are?”

“I’m—” You pause, taking a breath. “I need to talk to someone. My home—” you stammer, fumbling with the words, "—I was told to come here. You helped my mother years ago. She said—if I ever needed anything—”

Tony watches you, his expression unreadable, though his eyes flicker with curiosity.

“Well, you’ve certainly come to the right place for help,” he says, his tone shifting from mild annoyance to sudden interest. “Why don’t you sit down? Let’s talk.”

You cautiously take a seat across from him, feeling out of place in his luxurious office. You’ve heard the stories about Tony Stark—the genius, the billionaire, the womanizer. But in this moment, you can’t afford to care about any of that. You need help, and he’s your last shot.

“Let me guess,” Tony says, leaning forward. “You’re about to lose your home. You need money. And you have nowhere to turn.”

You glance at Pepper, who looks back at you with quiet understanding, then back at Tony. “Yes,” you whisper, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on you.

He leans back again, studying you for a long moment before something shifts in his expression. A thought flickers across his mind—a spark of an idea. And then, he smiles.

“Let’s make a deal,” Tony says suddenly. His voice is calm, calculated. “I need a wife. You need a home. How do you feel about an arrangement that benefits both of us?”

Your heart stutters in your chest. “A wife?”

Tony nods. “It’s purely business. You marry me, I’ll make sure you never have to worry about money again. You’ll have everything you need—home, security, whatever. And in return, I get the board off my back. Simple.”

You blink at him, trying to process the whirlwind offer that’s just been thrown at you. It sounds insane. But then again, your whole life has become a series of impossible situations lately. And this one…well, this one comes with a solution, even if it’s wrapped in the strangest of packages.

Tony leans in, eyes locked with yours, a hint of a challenge in his voice. “What do you say?”

You sit there, staring at him as though he’s just suggested you rob a bank together. His words hang heavy in the air, and your mind races to catch up. A wife? Marry Tony Stark? The idea sounds absurd, but as your thoughts turn back to your eviction notice, you realize you might not have a choice. Desperation has a way of forcing your hand, and this—this could be your way out.

Tony watches you, his expression still unreadable, though there’s a glint in his eyes that makes you wonder if he’s enjoying your discomfort a little too much. He’s waiting for your answer, clearly expecting you to be as quick and sharp as he is.

“You’re serious?” you manage to say, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Dead serious,” Tony replies, the smirk on his face both charming and infuriating at the same time. “It’s a win-win situation. You get stability, I get a new image. We play the part for the public, keep the board happy, and in a year or two, we go our separate ways. Clean and simple.”

You stare at him, searching for any sign that this is some kind of joke, some twisted billionaire’s game. But there’s nothing playful about his gaze now. Tony Stark might be a lot of things—reckless, arrogant, brilliant—but he’s not someone who wastes time.

“What’s in it for you, really?” you ask, folding your arms defensively. “Why me? You could marry anyone—some model or socialite who would be more than happy to play the part. Why pick a random woman off the street?”

“Because you’re not a model or a socialite,” he says simply, his voice dropping a little lower. “I don’t need someone who’s after the spotlight or my bank account. I need someone who won’t get in my way. Someone who’ll keep this business.”

He pauses, watching your reaction carefully. “You don’t seem like the type to get tangled in the drama. You just need help. And that’s the kind of deal I can work with.”

You feel a lump form in your throat. It’s true—he's offering you a way out of a sinking ship. A home. Security. All the things that have been slipping through your fingers, one by one. But still, the idea of entering into a fake marriage with Tony Stark? You’d be lying if you said the thought didn’t terrify you. You’ve seen the headlines, the rumors about his womanizing ways. Could you really trust him? Could you even pull this off?

And yet, the alternative is worse. A life of uncertainty.

“Why would anyone believe it?” you ask, biting your lip as you try to find holes in the plan. “I mean…we just met. People will see through it.”

Tony chuckles softly, leaning back in his chair, a picture of relaxed confidence. “Oh, believe me, people will believe it. I’ve built an entire career on controlling the narrative. I know how to spin a story. We’ll have a whirlwind romance, some well-placed public appearances, maybe a dramatic proposal. Before you know it, the world will be eating out of our hands.”

You inhale sharply, your mind still racing. Everything about this feels so…surreal. And yet, as crazy as it sounds, it’s starting to make sense. At least from a practical standpoint.

Tony watches you closely, as though sensing the shift in your thoughts. “Look, I’m not asking you to love me, or even like me,” he says, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “This is just an arrangement. You get what you need, I get what I need. And once it’s done, you walk away with enough money to start a new life, debt-free. No strings attached.”

The words no strings attached seem to echo in your mind. You swallow hard, looking down at your hands as you twist them nervously in your lap. It’s a cold, transactional proposal. And yet…you can’t deny that it makes sense.

“What’s the catch?” you ask quietly. There has to be one. With someone like Tony Stark, there’s always a catch.

He tilts his head slightly, considering your question before shrugging. “The only catch is that for a while, you’ll be living in my world. That means the media, the attention, and probably some uncomfortable dinners with people who think they’re more important than they are. It won’t be easy.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you weigh your options. It’s not like you have many left. The thought of staying in this small, cramped room, waiting for the inevitable eviction, is unbearable. And as much as the idea of marrying Tony Stark terrifies you, it also feels like a lifeline being thrown at the last possible second.

“So?” Tony leans forward, his gaze steady on yours. “What do you say?”

You bite your lip, the papers in your hand crinkling slightly under your grip. This might be your last chance. Your final way out.

“Alright,” you whisper, barely believing the words coming out of your mouth. “I’ll do it.”

A slow, satisfied smile spreads across Tony’s face, and he extends his hand across the desk. “Then we’ve got a deal.”

You stare at his hand for a moment before slowly reaching out to shake it, sealing the arrangement that’s about to change your life in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.

As your hand clasps his, the weight of what you've just agreed to settles in. You're about to become Mrs. Stark — at least for the world to see. And as daunting as that may be, it’s still better than the alternative.

You meet his gaze, feeling a strange mix of fear, excitement, and something else you can’t quite name.

This is only the beginning.

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The next few weeks unfold in a blur of public appearances, carefully crafted smiles, and whispered conversations behind closed doors. You and Tony play the parts well, slipping into the roles of an unexpected, whirlwind romance. The media eats it up.

The first date is a public affair—dinner at a five-star restaurant in downtown Manhattan. The paparazzi are already outside when you arrive, cameras flashing like fireworks as Tony steps out of his sleek black car, offering you a hand. You take it, the warmth of his touch feeling almost foreign despite the fact you’ve grown used to his presence.

You force a smile, heart racing as you hear the shouts of photographers calling out for a picture, for a smile, for a kiss. Tony leans down, whispering in your ear, "You’re doing great. Just breathe."

It’s strange—how natural he makes it seem, how easy it is for him to slip into this version of himself, the attentive, doting boyfriend. To the world, Tony Stark is charming, smooth, and infatuated with you. And you? You’re the mystery woman who somehow captured the billionaire’s heart.

Inside the restaurant, things are a little less chaotic. You sit across from Tony, the intimate lighting making the scene feel more private than it really is. But the cameras are still there, outside the windows, snapping away.

“So,” Tony says, his voice low as he leans in, folding his hands casually on the table. “How’s the food? Pretending to enjoy yourself yet?”

You smirk, rolling your eyes as you push a piece of food around your plate. “Oh, I’m absolutely swooning. Can’t believe how lucky I am to be here with you.”

Tony chuckles, leaning back in his chair, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Good. Keep it up. The more they buy this, the less we have to deal with later.”

It’s a game. A performance. One that you both know the rules to. But as the weeks pass and the dates pile up, something shifts.

The next outing is a stroll through Central Park, and the one after that is a charity gala where Tony's hand rests on the small of your back, guiding you through a sea of high-society types who eye you curiously, wondering what you did to catch the elusive Tony Stark. And despite how staged everything is, there are moments where Tony seems less like the playboy billionaire and more…human. Moments where he cracks a joke, and you find yourself laughing a little too genuinely, or when he holds a door for you, and you catch the briefest flicker of something unguarded in his eyes.

But you’re careful to remind yourself: this is all business. You’re not here to fall for Tony Stark. You’re here to save yourself.

After weeks of these public outings, the media frenzy reaches its peak when Tony finally sets the stage for the proposal. You’ve both discussed it already—how it has to be big, dramatic, a spectacle that leaves no room for doubt.

You're dressed in a stunning gown, attending yet another high-profile charity event. The ballroom is packed, every face in the room belonging to someone rich or influential. The press is buzzing, and you can feel the weight of a thousand eyes on you.

Tony has been his usual charming self all evening, but there’s something different in the way he looks at you tonight. Almost as if this moment means something more to him. You push the thought aside, focusing on playing your part.

Just as the night seems to be winding down, Tony stands, clinking his glass to get everyone’s attention. The room falls silent, and your heart starts to pound. This is it.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Tony’s voice is smooth, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’m not usually one for speeches, but tonight, I need to break that habit. Because I have something important to say.”

The crowd watches, captivated, as Tony walks toward you, his steps slow and deliberate. Your breath catches in your throat as he stops in front of you, taking your hand.

“I’ve spent my life building things,” he says, his voice echoing through the room. “My company. My legacy. But in all that time, I never thought I’d find someone who’d make me want to build something else. Something personal. Something real.”

He drops to one knee, and for a second, the world around you seems to freeze. The gasps from the audience are barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat. He pulls out a ring, the diamond glittering under the chandeliers.

“I’m asking you, right here, in front of everyone, to make this official. Will you marry me?”

It’s all a show, of course. The practiced speech, the perfectly timed down-on-one-knee moment. But as you stare down at him, ring in hand, something about it feels too real. His eyes meet yours, and for a brief moment, you forget that this is all a charade.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to remember the contract, the deal you made in private. This isn’t real. It never was. It’s just for the cameras, for the board, for the company. But still, you manage to smile as you nod.

“Yes,” you say softly, the word slipping from your lips like it belongs to another version of you. “I’ll marry you.”

The room erupts into applause, but you barely hear it. Tony slips the ring onto your finger, standing to pull you into an embrace. His arms wrap around you, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, “Perfect. Now they’ll back off.”

Behind closed doors, things are starkly different. The moment you leave the public eye, Tony is already in his office, the papers spread out on his desk. You stand beside him, the diamond ring on your finger suddenly feeling heavy, reminding you of the weight of the bargain you’ve struck.

Tony flips through the pages with a calm, focused expression, glancing at you briefly. “Three years,” he says, tapping the contract. “That’s the timeline. We stay married, let the public eat it up, and after three years, we go our separate ways.”

You nod, staring at the paperwork. Your eyes catch the clause that’s been added in bold: Upon the dissolution of the marriage, Y/N will receive a sum sufficient to cover all debts and ensure financial stability for the foreseeable future.

“Once the board sees I’ve settled down, they’ll loosen their grip. By the time we’re done, you’ll have more than enough to start fresh,” Tony continues, his voice businesslike. “No strings attached. Clean break.”

You sign the papers without hesitation, feeling a strange mix of relief and something else—something you can’t quite name—as your pen scratches across the line. This is what you agreed to. It’s what you need.

But as you set the pen down, you catch Tony’s gaze, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he feels it too. The tension between what’s real and what’s part of the arrangement. The way his touch lingers a little longer than necessary when the cameras aren’t around. The way his eyes sometimes soften when they meet yours.

But before you can dwell on it, he stands, slipping the contract into a folder. “We’re good to go,” he says, his tone brisk again. “Now let’s give them the show of a lifetime.”

And so, with the contract signed and the terms laid out, you walk back into the world together—Tony Stark’s fiancée, destined for a picture-perfect marriage that will end exactly when it’s supposed to. Three years from now, you’ll walk away with everything you need.

Or at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

The galas become routine, a swirl of elegant gowns, expensive champagne, and the murmur of voices in rooms filled with wealth and influence. You’ve perfected the role by now—Tony’s perfect fiancée, charming, poised, always ready with a smile and the practiced story of how you two “met.”

The backstory you and Tony crafted is flawless, and it’s become second nature to you. You met at a charity event, of course. Something respectable, something that would explain why a billionaire like Tony Stark would fall for a woman like you—someone who wasn’t already a fixture of his high-society world.

Tonight’s gala is no different. The room is packed with the usual mix of celebrities, business moguls, and old-money aristocrats. You stand beside Tony, your arm linked through his as you make your way through the crowd, the warm glow of chandeliers overhead. Tony’s hand rests on the small of your back, and even though it’s all part of the act, you can’t ignore the comfort of his presence anymore.

“Y/N!” A familiar voice draws your attention, and you turn to see a woman with a dazzling smile approaching. She’s dripping in diamonds, her manicured hand clutching a flute of champagne. “You two look amazing tonight. I swear, every time I see you, you just glow more. It’s like you were made to be by Tony’s side.”

You smile graciously, the practiced ease of it making you feel a little guilty. “Thank you, that’s so kind.”

She leans in, eyes twinkling. “I just love your story. It’s so romantic! I mean, meeting at a charity gala and then falling in love like that? It’s like something out of a movie. How lucky are you?”

Lucky. You bite back the irony of that word, nodding instead. “It was unexpected, but…fate works in mysterious ways, right?”

“Oh, definitely! Tony must’ve been swept off his feet the moment he saw you,” she says with a conspiratorial wink, clearly enjoying the idea of the elusive Tony Stark being anything but untouchable.

You glance at Tony, who’s deep in conversation with some business associates nearby, the cool confidence never leaving his face. You know the truth behind that first meeting—how he found you when you were at your lowest, desperate and vulnerable. But none of these people will ever know that. To them, this is a fairy tale. And you? You’re the lucky girl who got to marry the prince.

Another couple approaches, and the cycle begins again. Compliments, questions about the wedding, and endless retellings of your "love story." You smile through it all, playing your part perfectly, while Tony occasionally sends a reassuring glance your way. He knows how exhausting these events can be, but it’s all part of the plan. You keep up the charade for the media, the board, and everyone else who needs to believe this romance is real.

The wedding comes faster than you expected. After months of public appearances, interviews, and carefully orchestrated photo ops, the big day is finally here. It’s everything the world expects it to be—grand, lavish, and utterly flawless.

The ceremony takes place in a sprawling estate, the gardens decorated with flowers that seem to stretch on for miles. The guest list is as exclusive as it gets—celebrities, politicians, business moguls. The kind of wedding that would dominate headlines for weeks, exactly as planned.

You stand in front of a full-length mirror, staring at yourself in the wedding gown. It’s breathtaking, really. The lace and silk hug your body perfectly, the veil trailing behind you like something out of a dream. It should feel like a fantasy, but there’s something surreal about the whole thing.

Pepper walks in, smiling softly at you as she adjusts your veil. “You look beautiful,” she says, her voice gentle. “Everything’s set. The press is buzzing already.”

You nod, taking a deep breath as you stare at your reflection, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach. This is it. The moment where you and Tony take your fake relationship to the next level in the eyes of the world.

Pepper gives you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before stepping out, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

The ceremony begins, and you make your way down the aisle, each step feeling heavier than the last. Your heart pounds in your chest as you see Tony standing at the altar, looking impossibly dashing in his tailored suit. His eyes meet yours, and for a brief moment, the world around you fades.

You force a smile, reminding yourself this is all part of the plan. But as you approach him, something changes. The look in his eyes is different—there’s a softness there, a vulnerability you haven’t seen before. It throws you off guard, and suddenly, you’re not so sure if this is just an act anymore.

The officiant begins, and you stand there, hand in hand with Tony, reciting the vows you both know are meant to be temporary. But with each word spoken, the lines between what’s real and what’s pretend blur just a little more.

“I, Anthony, take you, Y/N, to be my lawfully wedded wife…”

His voice is steady, but there’s something in his tone that makes your breath catch. You stare at him, searching his face for any sign that he’s just playing the part like you are. But in this moment, with the whole world watching, it almost feels like something else.

“I, Y/N, take you, Anthony, to be my lawfully wedded husband…”

The words slip from your lips, and as you say them, they feel heavier than you expected. Your heart beats faster as Tony’s thumb brushes lightly over the back of your hand. The gesture is so small, so intimate, that for a moment you forget everything—the contract, the deal, the carefully planned charade.

The officiant asks if there are any objections, and the crowd is silent, holding their collective breath. You can feel Tony’s eyes on you, and when he lifts your veil, the world seems to slow.

He leans in, his lips brushing yours, and for that brief, fleeting moment, it feels real. The kiss is soft, hesitant, as if neither of you are sure where the line between pretend and reality is anymore. The applause erupts, but all you can hear is the pounding of your own heartbeat.

You pull away, your eyes locking with his, and for just a second, there’s something unspoken between you. Something that neither of you are willing to admit.

But then the moment passes, and Tony’s signature smirk returns as he lifts your hand, showing off the ring to the crowd. The cameras flash, the guests cheer, and just like that, you’re Mrs. Stark—at least in the eyes of the world.

As the reception begins, you can’t shake the feeling that something changed between you two at that altar. Something neither of you expected. But before you can dwell on it too much, Tony is by your side, his arm slipping around your waist as he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Stark. You’ve officially survived the hardest part.” His tone is playful, but when you glance up at him, there’s a flicker of something deeper in his gaze.

You force a smile, nodding as you look out over the sea of guests. You’ve done it. You’ve played your part perfectly.

But deep down, you can’t help but wonder: Was it all still just an act? Or did something real happen between you and Tony in that brief, unguarded moment?

You push the thought aside, reminding yourself of the contract, of the plan. In three years, this will all be over, and you’ll walk away debt-free, just as promised.

But for now, you’re Mrs. Stark. And for better or for worse, that’s the role you have to play.

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The first few months of marriage pass in a delicate dance of closeness and distance. You and Tony keep up appearances for the press and the public, playing your parts to perfection. The media can't get enough of the two of you—the glamorous, whirlwind couple that keeps everyone talking. But behind closed doors, things are changing. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, the boundaries of your arrangement begin to blur.

At home, away from the cameras and prying eyes, Tony is different. It starts with small gestures. He brings you coffee in the mornings, just the way you like it, without you ever asking. You catch him looking at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, his expression softer than the public version of Tony Stark. It’s in the way he lingers when you pass each other in the hallway, his hand brushing yours just a little longer than necessary, his gaze lingering a little too long.

The nights spent in the massive Stark Tower feel less like a performance and more like something genuine. You find yourselves talking late into the night—about everything, about nothing. Sometimes it’s about work, other times it’s about things neither of you have shared with anyone else. Tony talks about his parents, about how lonely it was growing up despite all the wealth and success. You open up about your life before all of this, the struggles, the dreams you gave up on, and the ones you still hope for.

There are moments when it almost feels real—like you’re not playing a part anymore. Moments when Tony’s laugh is so genuine, so unguarded, that you forget this is all temporary. There are nights when he falls asleep next to you on the couch after watching some terrible movie you both made fun of the entire time, his arm slung over the back of the sofa, just barely touching you. And when he stirs in his sleep and pulls you a little closer, you don’t pull away.

You tell yourself it’s still part of the arrangement—that none of this changes the contract or the plan. But deep down, you know better. This isn’t just about saving his reputation anymore. Somewhere along the line, things got complicated.

But as the months pass, the press starts to ask questions. At first, they’re subtle—tiny, whispered headlines about the perfect couple, alluding to the next big story. “Stark Wedding Still the Talk of the Town,” they say. But then, the speculation begins to shift.

“When are the Starks Starting a Family?” The headline is plastered on the front of every tabloid, and soon it’s the only thing people want to know.

You notice it at the galas, in the way people casually ask about your future plans with a knowing smile, as if it’s only a matter of time before you announce a pregnancy.

“Any little Starks running around soon?” A woman asks you one night at an event, her voice dripping with curiosity as she sips her champagne. You force a smile, your practiced response already prepared.

“Oh, we’re just enjoying married life for now,” you say, deflecting the question as you’ve done a hundred times before. But it’s getting harder to avoid. The press is relentless, constantly speculating about why you and Tony haven’t started a family yet.

And then one night, during a quiet dinner at home, Tony brings it up.

“We need to address this,” he says, setting down his wine glass and looking at you seriously. “The whole ‘when are you having kids’ thing. It’s becoming an issue.”

You raise an eyebrow, feeling a knot of tension forming in your chest. “What do you mean?”

“The press. The board. Hell, even Pepper has been asking me about it.” He leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “They think if we don’t at least make it look like we’re planning to have kids, the whole marriage thing starts looking fake.”

You swallow, the weight of his words settling in. You’ve known this day would come—that eventually, people would start to question the validity of your marriage if they didn’t see the next logical step. But you didn’t expect it to happen so soon. Or to feel so…complicated.

“And what do you want to do about it?” you ask, your voice quieter than you intended.

Tony looks at you, his expression unreadable for a moment. “We can’t have kids. Not under this arrangement,” he says, his voice careful, measured. “That’s too far. We’ve been keeping everything business, and that… that’s different.”

You nod, relief and something else—something like disappointment—washing over you. The idea of having a child with Tony never even crossed your mind. It would complicate everything, not just the contract but your own tangled feelings.

“But,” Tony continues, his tone shifting as if he’s trying to solve one of his impossible engineering problems, “we could make it look like we’re…trying. Just enough to keep people off our backs.”

You stare at him, feeling a strange tightness in your chest. The idea of pretending to try for a family seems too intimate, too close to something real. But you understand what he’s saying. It’s part of the performance. Just like everything else.

“And what does that look like?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

Tony shrugs, but there’s an edge of discomfort to his usually confident demeanor. “We drop a few hints. Let the media speculate. Maybe mention something in an interview about how we’re not ruling it out. We don’t have to do anything drastic, just… give them something to talk about.”

You nod, knowing that it’s the logical next step. But as you sit there, staring at him across the table, you can’t shake the feeling that pretending to plan a family feels more dangerous than anything else you’ve done so far. Because even though the idea of kids has never been part of the equation, the thought of what that implies—what it means for the two of you—makes your heart race.

The truth is, things have changed between you and Tony. You’re not just business partners playing a role anymore. Somewhere along the way, you’ve become…something else. And the thought of what that might mean, of what you could become, scares you more than anything.

Tony watches you carefully, as if he’s trying to gauge your reaction. For a moment, there’s silence between you, thick with unspoken things. And then he says, almost too softly, “This isn’t what either of us signed up for. I know that. But… I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not comfortable with.”

You look at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice. It’s the closest either of you has come to acknowledging that things between you have become more complicated than just a contract.

“I’m okay with it,” you say quietly, though you’re not sure if that’s entirely true. But it’s the only answer you can give right now. “We can give them something to talk about. We’ve handled worse, right?”

Tony’s smile is small, almost sad, and for a brief moment, you wonder what would happen if things were different—if this weren’t just an arrangement. If the feelings that had started to bloom between you weren’t confined by the terms of a contract set to expire in three years.

But you push the thought away, telling yourself that none of this can be real. Not the lingering touches, not the late-night conversations, not the way your heart skips a beat when Tony’s gaze lingers on you a little too long.

Because it’s all still part of the plan. Isn’t it?

The press will get their story about you and Tony “trying for a family,” and you’ll continue to play your part. But behind closed doors, where the cameras can’t reach, the lines between performance and reality are growing more and more blurred.

And neither of you seems quite sure where one ends and the other begins anymore.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The media frenzy never really stops. Every event, every gala, every time you and Tony are seen in public, the question of starting a family hangs in the air like a cloud, waiting to burst. At first, you both handle it with practiced ease—hinting at possibilities, making vague remarks about enjoying married life for now. The press eats it up, but as the months drag on, the whispers grow louder.

“Are the Starks having trouble conceiving?” “Is there tension in the Stark household?”

The headlines shift from speculation about when you’ll have children to rumors about why you haven’t yet. It’s a delicate dance, one that requires both you and Tony to show the right amount of affection in public, but with subtle hints of strain.

You both knew this would happen. The plan was to invent a story, an excuse that would explain why the perfect couple—the marriage that saved Tony’s reputation—was struggling to take that next step. And so, the story was crafted. You and Tony were “trying,” but it wasn’t working out. The media took the bait, sympathy replacing the pressure, as reporters switched from prying into your marriage to speculating about the emotional toll of fertility struggles.

It’s a brilliant strategy, really. The public buys it, the board of directors remains satisfied that Tony’s personal life is still under control, and you keep the illusion alive. But behind closed doors, things are different. The tension between you and Tony isn’t from some fabricated difficulty of trying for children—it’s from the unspoken truth neither of you can fully face.

Time is running out.

Three years. That was the deal.

You and Tony sit in front of the fireplace in the penthouse one night, the crackling warmth filling the space as the two of you remain lost in your own thoughts. The contract’s expiration date is approaching, looming over both of you like a shadow.

Tony leans back in his chair, his drink untouched beside him. He’s been quieter lately, more thoughtful, but you chalk it up to the usual pressures of running Stark Industries. Or at least, you tell yourself that’s all it is. But deep down, you know something has shifted. It’s been building slowly, a subtle tension, one you can’t quite place but feel all the same.

“You know,” Tony says suddenly, breaking the silence, “we’ve been doing a hell of a job keeping this thing going.” His voice is casual, but there’s an edge to it, a seriousness that pulls at something inside you.

You nod, turning to face him. “Yeah, we have.”

“And the press,” he continues, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. “They’ve got their story. We’ve given them everything they need. Sympathy, speculation, the whole package.”

You know where this is going, and the weight in your chest tightens. He’s bringing it up—the end. The divorce. The part of the plan that always seemed so far away, until now. You’ve kept the charade alive for years, and now it’s time to walk away, just like you agreed.

“Right,” you say softly, your voice catching in your throat.

But Tony doesn’t stop there. He stands, pacing slightly, his hands shoved in his pockets. His brow is furrowed, his face caught in that thoughtful expression he gets when he’s working through something complicated.

“Look, we’ve played this game long enough. And you’ve held up your end. More than held up your end, actually.” He pauses, glancing at you. “So, we could, you know…call it.”

You stare at him, feeling the weight of the conversation settle heavily on your shoulders. This is it. The moment where everything unravels, where you go back to being two people with separate lives.

But Tony isn’t looking at you with the same confidence he usually has when he’s broaching a difficult subject. He seems…uncertain. As if he’s weighing something deeper, something he hasn’t fully admitted yet.

You take a breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “Yeah. That’s what we agreed on, right?”

There’s a pause. Tony walks over to the window, staring out at the city below. His reflection is visible in the glass, but his expression is unreadable.

“We did,” he says, but the conviction in his voice is missing.

You watch him, waiting for him to say something more, to tell you what’s really on his mind. The silence between you stretches, the unspoken things hanging heavy in the air. It’s as if both of you are waiting for the other to say what neither of you is ready to admit.

“Tony…” you start, but he cuts you off, turning to face you, his eyes more serious than you’ve ever seen them.

“Y/N, I don’t think I can do this.”

Your heart skips a beat. For a moment, you’re not sure what he means. “Do what?”

He steps closer, his gaze locking onto yours, intense and raw. “Divorce you. Let you go. Walk away and pretend like none of this ever happened.”

The air between you shifts, charged with a tension that’s been building for months, maybe longer. Tony’s words hang there, vulnerable and exposed, and it hits you all at once—this isn’t just about the deal anymore.

“Tony…” Your voice is barely above a whisper, your heart pounding in your chest.

He closes the distance between you, his hands reaching for yours, his grip warm and strong. “I know this wasn’t part of the plan. I know we were supposed to walk away after three years and never look back, but…” He pauses, swallowing hard. “But I don’t want that.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Tony’s eyes search yours, his expression raw in a way you’ve never seen before. The walls he always keeps up, the armor he wears in public, are completely gone now.

“This thing between us, it’s not just for show anymore. I thought I could keep it separate—business and personal—but I can’t. I care about you. And I know we agreed that this was temporary, but it doesn’t feel temporary to me anymore.”

The truth you’ve been avoiding, denying to yourself for so long, crashes over you. It’s not just him. It’s you, too. Somewhere along the way, between the public dates and the private moments, the late-night conversations and the quiet mornings, you’ve fallen for him. Despite all your attempts to keep this arrangement strictly professional, you’ve found yourself caring more than you ever thought possible.

You stare at him, your heart racing. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying…” He exhales, his voice softening. “I don’t want to lose you, Y/N. I don’t want to walk away from this. From us.” He pauses, his gaze never leaving yours. “I love you.”

It feels like the world stops for a moment. His words hang in the air between you, and you can’t believe what you’re hearing.

Your hand tightens around his, your voice trembling slightly as you reply, “I love you too, Tony.”

It’s the first time either of you has admitted it, the first time you’ve said it out loud. And suddenly, everything clicks into place. This was never just an arrangement, not for either of you. Somewhere along the way, it became real.

Tony steps closer, cupping your face with his hands, his eyes soft and full of emotion. “Then let’s forget the contract. Forget the plan. Let’s do this for real.”

You nod, tears welling up in your eyes as you lean into him, his lips brushing yours in a tender, genuine kiss. The kiss feels like a promise, like the beginning of something you’ve both been building toward without even realizing it.

The contract, the public charade, the expectations—it all falls away. This isn’t about saving Tony’s reputation anymore. It’s about the two of you, finally being honest with yourselves, and with each other.

You pull back slightly, smiling through the tears. “No more pretending.”

“No more pretending,” Tony agrees, his smile mirroring yours as he kisses you again, this time with the weight of everything left unsaid now spoken. The future no longer feels like a ticking clock or an obligation to a deal. It feels like a life you’ve both chosen—together.

The night Tony confesses his love changes everything. The walls that once separated the two of you—the boundaries of your arrangement—come crashing down. That night, for the first time, everything feels real, not just in your hearts but in the way you move together, shedding the last vestiges of the deal that brought you into each other's lives.

After Tony’s confession, the two of you barely make it to the bedroom, too consumed by the need to be closer, to feel each other in a way that wasn’t hidden behind performance or pretense. His lips trace over your skin, soft but insistent, as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of you. You respond with equal intensity, your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as your bodies mold together effortlessly. The chemistry that’s been building for so long, simmering beneath the surface, finally explodes into something overwhelming, passionate, and real.

That night is unlike anything you’ve experienced with Tony before. It’s not about appearances or duty—it’s about desire, love, and the raw, unspoken connection you’ve always felt but never fully acknowledged. In every kiss, every touch, there’s an unspoken promise of a future you both want—a future no longer bound by a contract.

You spend the night wrapped in each other’s arms, the lines between where you end and Tony begins blurred in a way that makes you feel whole.

Months later, everything feels different. The weight of the contract, the looming deadline—it’s all gone now. You and Tony are free, not just from the obligations of your arrangement, but from the barriers you put up to protect yourselves. And it feels good. Better than good.

The press still follows your every move, but now, when you’re photographed together, it’s not an act. You’re truly in love, and it shows in every stolen glance, every casual touch.

And then, something else shifts. A few months after that unforgettable night, you notice something’s changed—within you. At first, you dismiss it, but as the signs become more obvious, the truth hits you like a tidal wave. You’re pregnant.

Telling Tony is a moment you’ll never forget. He’s in his workshop when you find him, hunched over some new project, completely immersed in his work. You’re nervous, but when you say the words, his reaction is everything you could have hoped for. He freezes for a moment, blinking as if he didn’t hear you correctly.

“Wait, what?” He straightens up, his eyes wide, his face a mixture of shock and awe. “Are you serious?”

You nod, unable to keep the smile from spreading across your face. “Yeah. We’re having a baby.”

For the first time since you’ve known him, Tony Stark is speechless. He just stares at you, his expression softening before he breaks into a grin. And then he crosses the room in two strides, scooping you up into his arms, spinning you around as he laughs—really, genuinely laughs.

“We’re having a baby,” he repeats, his voice filled with wonder.

The night of the gala is perfect. The two of you arrive hand in hand, the press buzzing around you as always, but this time there’s something different in the air. You haven’t made the announcement yet, but tonight is the night.

You wear a stunning dress, custom-made to skim over the subtle curve of your belly. It’s not obvious yet, but you know the media will spot the signs—sharp eyes never miss a detail. And when you and Tony take the stage, everyone’s watching.

Tony steps up to the microphone, his usual swagger in full effect. “So, I know you’ve all been wondering,” he starts, flashing that charming grin of his, “about when the Starks are finally going to have some big news to share.”

The crowd murmurs in anticipation, cameras flashing as the press leans in, hanging on his every word.

He turns to you, his gaze softening as he reaches for your hand. “Well, the wait’s over. Y/N and I are expecting our first child.”

The room erupts in applause, gasps and cheers filling the air as the cameras go wild. Tony pulls you into his side, kissing your temple as you both beam at the crowd, the love between you palpable.

After the announcement, the two of you make your rounds, mingling with the guests, accepting congratulations, and soaking in the joy of the moment. But later, when the two of you finally find a quiet corner, away from the crowd, Tony’s hand rests on your belly, his thumb tracing slow circles over the fabric of your dress.

“So,” he says, his voice low, filled with affection, “what do you think? Boy or girl?”

You laugh, leaning into him. “I don’t know. But I have a feeling they’re going to have your charm and your appetite for chaos.”

Tony grins, his hand moving to cradle your face. “Lucky for them, they’ll have your heart and patience to balance it out.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Let’s just hope they don’t inherit your knack for getting into trouble.”

He chuckles, pulling you closer. “Hey, trouble is part of the Stark legacy.”

You smirk, resting your hand on top of his. “Well, as long as they don’t inherit your driving skills, we’ll be fine.”

Tony gasps dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “My driving skills are impeccable! You love my driving.”

You give him a look, raising an eyebrow. “I love you, Tony. Your driving… not so much.”

He laughs, leaning in to kiss you softly, and for a moment, the world outside fades away. It’s just the two of you—together, happy, and ready for whatever comes next.

As the night winds down, Tony pulls you aside once more, his lips close to your ear as he whispers, “I can’t believe this is our life now. I can’t believe we’re doing this—for real.”

You smile, your heart swelling with love as you whisper back, “Neither can I. But I wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else.”

And with that, Tony leans down, pressing a playful kiss to your belly before looking up at you with a mischievous grin. “Just so you know, the kid’s first words are totally going to be ‘Iron Man.’”

You burst out laughing, swatting his arm. “Not if I have anything to say about it!”

Tony winks, pulling you into his arms. “We’ll see about that, Mrs. Stark. We’ll see.”

I hope you liked this story! <3

[manidk1273]

🎀 — Wedding.

Tony was never the best father to you, even he knew that. You were a variable he never considered.. until you were 17. Surprisingly, Nick Fury himself recruited you for the Avengers. That's where your relationship starts again.. it was rocky, difficult but at least you each other as teammates.

Your name wasn't an unknown name, just like your biological father you were a genius. Even without powers, you were skilled. The first time you fought crime (though it was an accident and just sudden.) You wore a black surgical mask, and got in the fight scene. There, Spiderman himself saw you before you ran away.

„ Who are you? ”

. . . .

„ Whatever you wanted it to be, Spider. ”

You said, masked appearance as you stepped to the edge of the building falling elegantly but not to your death. At first, people thought you had powers but it was debunked by yourself. Tony met you— He never realized you were his kid until he met your parents. The woman he hooked up with years ago, and her now husband.

It was awkward at first but he shoved it off his shoulders. Ever since then, he has tried to restore a relationship. It was awkward between you two at first but you've gone from teammates to friends. Sure, Tony was relieved but he still felt like he wasn't doing enough. Especially when your step father(Mother's husband) would come with your mother. You even called him dad, he thought it was preposterous to him. He wasn't your real dad.

After years in the battlefield.. the world was at peace, but of course it wasn't always gonna be like this so you finally decided to marry your s/o this time of year. You met them having your career as a superhero, and you were so proud of them.. you were so lucky to have them in your life. It took him a slap to the face and Pepper to realize he was actually just jealous.. he was in denial.

Of course, every Avenger was invited. Close friends too.. and especially family. It was a small wedding, no big things.. but the venue was perfect for the two of you. Everyone attended with a plus 1, as the invitation suggested. As the ceremony began.. the usual traditional stuff happened. But one thing made Tony's heart drop.

Your step father was the one who was walking you down the aisle to your groom. It was awakening something in him.. of course, he's proud and happy for you. But when he saw that scene.. that moment, he felt like ripping your father's soul apart from his body. But he quickly shook away the thought. As the beautiful ceremony ended, he didn't stay for the feast. Pepper noticed when he wasn't near the tables and went to the parking lot to see him near the car, sitting by himself.

She knew Tony too much, she already knew what was happening. She sat beside him and took his hand to her palm.

“ Feel like shit, Pepper.. ”

“ I know. ”

It took a few more exchange of words before he just cried to her chest, she didn't expect the conversation to go like that but she was glad he wasn't bottling up his emotions.

He feels like shit, he really does. He knows he doesn't have the right to walk you down the aisle— but it hurts so much. He does see you as a kid, he really did. But he can't just.. reverse years of absence just by a year. He can't blame you.. you're just living your life.

He never wanted to become like his father. He wanted to show he cared, but.. sometimes you just.. become what you don't want to become.

I've been getting ideas I just needed to write. Again, I'm just getting back to the writing industry and I'm still very rusty.. but I hope you like my attempt at angst:)

As usual, Thank you so much for reaching the end and I hope you have a great day.

- Velvette 🎀