#stark!reader

[lumosflairr]

𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬 - 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫

masterlist

summary: When peter swings through your window and asks you to build Star Wars legos with him, how could you say no? [stark!reader]

warnings: suggestive jokes like twice.

word count: 2.1k

Taglist: @shadesofcoolxo @scaredraccoon @plumbum4 @moramaybe @iluvhrj

The soft glow of your bedroom lights bathed the walls in a warm hue as you lay sprawled across your bed, a tablet propped up against your knees while lo-fi music hummed gently from the speakers. It was late afternoon at the Tower, and the kind of peaceful quiet that followed a day without villains or rogue.

You had your window cracked open, more out of habit than anything else. Somewhere far below, you could faintly hear the city’s buzz. But up here, it felt like your own little sanctuary—until you heard the distinct clink of the latch sliding open.

You didn’t flinch. Instead, a slow smile tugged at your lips as you glanced sideways toward the tall windows just as they cracked open fully, letting in a gust of wind and a very familiar, curly-haired boy who stumbled in with a bit more flair than necessary.

“Peter,” you drawled without looking up, “you know there’s a door, right?”

He straightened, brushing wind-tangled curls out of his face and grinning. “There's no fun in that."

You turned your attention to him, a smile pulling on your lips as you placed the tablet away. You stood up from your bed and walked over to him, placing a soft kiss on his lips that he flourished into. Peter's hands found your waist as he moved you both from left to right earning a giggle from you. Time felt like it slowed down every time you kissed Peter. He was always so soft, so loving- so unreal.

You pulled away first, wrapping stray pieces of hair around your finger and twirling it. His eyes were glued to you-full of admiration and love. He let out a sheepish laugh before he removed his hands from your waist to pull his backpack off.

"Almost forgot, I have a surprise." He mentions, crouching down so he could unzip his backpack before rummaging inside.

"A surprise?" You ask, eyebrows furrowed.

Peter looked up at you through his lashes, a small awkward smile tugging at his lips. "I, uh… brought something. It’s kinda nerdy. Okay, it’s really nerdy. But I was thinking—maybe you’d wanna do it with me?"

You let out a breathy laugh at your boyfriends remark. "Pete, I don't care how nerdy it is if it means I get to spend time with you."

He chuckled nervously before pulling out a LEGO set. It had a massive gray spaceship and a number that read '7,541 pieces', the unmistakable title in the corner: Millennium Falcon.

Your mouth fell agape. “Peter, that thing’s huge.”

He laughed, cheeks flushing. "Ned and I pooled together some money a while back to buy one, and we built it together over a couple weekends. But then this one went on sale, and I kinda… saved up again. I was gonna build it solo, but I thought it'd be more fun with you."

Your heart warmed at the thought.

He looked up at you then, eyes a little uncertain. "I know it’s dorky. I just thought—if you don’t want to, it’s totally fine—"

You leaned forward, reaching out to cradle his face with your hands. "Peter, that’s really sweet of you. I’d love to."

Relief washed over his face like a tide. He beamed, leaning forward to kiss your cheek before immediately beginning to unload bag after bag of LEGO pieces from his backpack. Within minutes, your floor was covered in numbered plastic packets, the massive instruction manual flopped open.

You settled onto the carpet, legs crossed beneath you. Peter sat opposite, already sorting out the first few bags.

"Okay, so bag one is all the base plates," he said, eyes skimming the instructions. "And fun fact—did you know the actual Millennium Falcon in the movies was twenty-five meters long? The UCS model is over thirty inches! They had to build a full-size cockpit for some of the original shots."

You let out a giggle at his comments, "Really?" you asked teasingly. You loved it when Peter would give you random fun facts and would become completely absorbed in his interests.

Peter’s eyes lit up. He nodded eagerly, clearly thrilled you showed even a dime interested. "Yeah! But I think this is the updated model,” Peter murmured, nose buried in the instruction book.

“It’s more accurate to the Force Awakens version—but it still has the classic round dish instead of the rectangular one, which is way better, honestly.”

You smiled as you sorted. “You sound like you’ve memorized the schematics.”

“I have. Pretty much.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Peter shot you a proud look. “Did you know the Falcon’s hyperdrive is a Class 0.5? That’s faster than an Imperial Star Destroyer. Han bragged about it all the time.”

“Oh really?”

"Also," he added, glancing up, "did you know that its hyperdrive was a class 0.5? That’s one of the fastest ratings in the galaxy."

You gasped dramatically. "Scandalous."

“And the reason it looks so weird is because George Lucas originally designed it as a flying saucer, but changed it at the last minute. The final design is based on a hamburger with an olive on the side.”

You paused, mid-sort. “Wait. What?”

Peter grinned. “Yeah. The olive is the cockpit.”

You reached across the instruction booklet to boop his nose. "You’re such a nerd."

"You love it," he teased.

"I do."

An hour in, your floor was buried in baggies, bricks, and half-assembled engine cores. You’d lost count of how many times Peter had given you little Star Wars facts. Every single time, you smiled and gave him soft, amused responses:

“That’s so cool.”

“Really?”

“You’re kind of amazing, you know that?”

He always flushed a little when you said that. It made you want to keep doing it just to watch him try not to squirm.

The Falcon began to take shape. Compartments, smugglers’ holds, the cockpit frame. Peter showed you how the dish connected, and you helped him attach the forward mandibles. Each piece that clicked into place made the whole thing feel like a game.

You were reaching for another gray tile when the door cracked open behind you.

“Hey, kiddo, I was gonna ask if—”

Tony Stark stopped cold in the doorway. His brows furrowed as he took in the scene: you and Peter Parker sitting cross-legged on your bedroom floor, surrounded by a colorful minefield of LEGO, instruction books, half-built Falcon parts, and a disturbing amount of laser blaster minifigures.

He tilted his head slowly, eyes narrowing.

“What’s Spider-Boy doing here?”

Peter stiffened like he’d been hit with a stun gun. “Uh… hi, Mr. Stark.”

You looked up with a calm, practiced smile. “He wanted to hang out. We’re building LEGO's.”

Tony squinted. "That’s aggressively nerdy."

"Dad!"

He held up his hands in mock defense. “Hey, hey. Not judging. Just… observing. Judging a little, but still.”

Peter smiled awkwardly. “It’s a really advanced set.”

“I can see that.” Tony squinted. “Wait—when did you get here?”

Peter blinked. “Uh… not long ago?”

Tony’s eyes narrowed. "Wait a sec. When did you come in? I didn’t see you at the door."

Before Peter could speak, Tony looked at the two of you- then the window.

Tony pointed at Peter and looked directly at you. "Did he come through your window?"

Peter and you tried to speak at the same time once again- but were cut off.

"How long has that been going on? Is this, like, a nightly thing? Is he Batman-ing his way in here every week?"

“Dad,” you sighed, “we’ve been over this—”

Tony held up a finger. “You know what? Nope. Gonna circle back to that later. But in the meantime—Peter, dinner’s at seven. You’re staying. No arguments.”

Peter nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.”

“And next time,” Tony added, walking toward the door, “just use the damn door, kid.”

The hours passed in a whirl of bricks and giggles. Peter occasionally scooted closer so you could see the finer parts of the manual. Your arms would brush, and he’d blush, but neither of you mentioned it. At one point, he explained how the Falcon’s sensor dish was knocked off during the Battle of Endor, and that’s why it has a rectangular one in The Force Awakens.

Suddenly, Peter began looking around. He checked beside his legs and around the partially built spaceship. "Where’s the trans-clear radar tile? The one with the circular etching?"

You looked around, then frowned. "It was right here a second ago. Did it fall under the rug?"

The two of you searched every corner of the carpet. Peter was halfway under your bed, legs sticking out like some kind of reverse-spider-crab.

"Got it!" Peter popped back up, hair sticking out in every direction and holding the piece triumphantly. "I found it!"

You grinned. "Oh, my hero!"

He placed it delicately in your palm like he was bestowing a rare jewel.

By the time you reached the final few pieces, the sun had dipped beneath the skyline, casting golden light across the floor. Peter clicked the last turret into place and leaned back, breathless.

You both stared at the completed Falcon. It took up nearly half the floor space between you. In Peter's words, it was 'the second most beautiful thing ever made because you came first.'

Peter exhaled, satisfied. “I’m really glad I got to spend today with you.”

You turned to him and gently cupped his face in your hands. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than with you.”

He blinked, clearly trying not to melt.

“Even if it’s just building LEGOs and me nerding out about Star Wars?”

You smiled, thumb brushing his cheek. “Especially that.”

He gave you that crooked, sunshine smile you adored—one that lit up his whole face.

Right on cue, FRIDAY’s voice filled the room:

“Miss Stark, Mr. Parker: dinner is ready. Mr. Stark has requested your presence. His exact words were: ‘tell the lovebirds to wash their hands and drag themselves to the kitchen before I come up there and hose them down.’”

You and Peter both burst out laughing.

Peter ran a hand through his curls, grinning. “That’s definitely your dad.”

You groaned with a smile, pushing off the floor and stretching. “I should’ve known he’d call us out eventually.”

He gave you that boyish, shy smile that made your heart melt. “You sure he’s not gonna kill me?”

You looped your arms around his neck. “If he was going to, he would’ve the first time you came through my window.”

“…So just mild intimidation tonight?”

You grinned. “Very mild.”

Right then, the door swung open without warning. You were greeted with none other than your father, who looked mildly annoyed.

“You two elope and forget to RSVP to dinner?”

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself up slightly. “We were on our way.”

Tony stepped further into the room, gaze narrowing just slightly at Peter, who immediately sat up straighter, like being caught slouching was somehow the real offense.

“You okay there, Underoos?” Tony asked, lips twitching. “You look like I walked in on something scandalous. Should I knock next time?”

Peter’s face turned an impressive shade of red. “N-no! I mean—no, sir. We were just building the—uh—Falcon. That’s all. Just the Falcon. LEGO Falcon. Nothing else.”

Tony gave you a knowing look. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Dad.”

He smirked. “Hey, I’m just saying—you tell your daughter and her spider-boyfriend dinner’s at 7:00, and 7:10 hits so I come looking and find his hands suspiciously close to your knee and you sitting there making oogly eyes at him."

Peter let out a noise that might’ve been a panicked laugh.

“We were literally talking about Star Wars,” you deadpanned.

“Uh-huh. Nerd foreplay,” Tony muttered. “The most dangerous kind.”

You gave him a look. “Can we not, please?”

Tony held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. You’re right. I trust you. Mostly.” He gave Peter a long look. “Sixty percent.”

Peter squeaked out a “Thank you?”

Tony’s gaze dropped to the LEGO Millennium Falcon laid out in all its half-built glory. He tilted his head.

“Huh. Not bad.” He gave a small nod, then added, “I could probably build it faster.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Sure you could.”

He smirked. “Excuse me, I’m a mechanical genius. That thing’s like baby’s first blueprint.”

“You still couldn’t figure out how to open a cereal box this morning.”

“That was sabotage. Who triple seals Frosted Flakes?”

Peter tried and failed to stifle a laugh, to which Tony turned, mock-offended. “Oh, so now you’re on her side?”

Peter put his hands up, smiling nervously. “I’m neutral! Switzerland!”

Tony pointed at him. “Stay that way. Smart man.”

He took a final glance around the room, nodding once more before backing out. “Wrap it up, lovebirds. Dinner’s getting cold and I’m not reheating lasagna for two teenagers who chose LEGO bricks and whatever the hell you two were doing up here over my homemade masterpiece.”

You snorted. “You didn’t make that lasagna. FRIDAY ordered it.”

“Semantics,” Tony called over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hall.

[dameronspector]

Philophobia

(PART 1)

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Stark!Reader

Summary: Devastated by your father’s death and cutting yourself off from everyone, you are on the road of recovery, accompanied by your uncle Rhodey. After Rhodey has finally convinced you, you agree to reunite with Sam Wilson and help him with his tech. He introduces you to another techie nerd, named Joaquin Torres, for the first time. Will you let your phobia get in the way and push away your new found family and this beautiful boy? Or will you get better and let yourself be loved once again?

Warnings: Mentions of Death and Depression/Depressive episodes, Mentions of Panic Attacks, Abuse by a parent (not Tony), Weight loss due to stress, Nightmares, Some cursing, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Steve Rogers Slander- please don’t read this if that’s not something you’re looking for, Reader is sassy and a bit reserved because of The incident and because they’re a Stark, Reader has some phobias, Found family, also there’s a few references and hidden plots in this. 😁 (please keep in mind that I wrote this from my point of view as a south asian.)

Author’s note: I probably went overboard and this is very long + very self indulgent….but tony stark is the father who raised me and joaquin torres is my boyfriend so i Had to do this. ☺️ also lots of found family content with Rhodey, Sam and Bucky. Set around the time of TFATWS. Please let me know if there’s any changes to be made if I have written anything wrong.

series masterlist

Moving back to New York was extremely hard and painful for you ever since your dad passed away. That was the city that you were born and raised in and it had the ghosts of your father’s and family’s moments everywhere. But you told Pepper that you couldn’t handle living in that cabin anymore because 1. you were going stir crazy since you loved the hustle bustle of a city and 2. the depressive episodes were more frequent than ever.

You’d think living in your family cabin that has your father’s memories written across every wall would help you…but you’re a Stark. Ignoring your own problems and running away from emotions is kind of your specialty. Hereditary, even.

Pepper, bless her heart, told you that she’s happy you are trying to get back your life back on track and that she would always be there for you. Even if you called her Pepper, she’s always been your Mother.

Hardest part of it all was saying goodbye to Morgan. Little Morgan who was so attached to you and vice versa. She was too young to even process her father’s death, how was she supposed to understand why her elder sibling was never leaving their room? And now that same sibling was going too far away from their house. It took Pepper, Happy and you to console Morgan and she was finally ready to send you off–only with a (pinky) promise of visiting her during holidays.

Rhodey and Happy helped you settle in your newest house- a penthouse in manhattan that your dad left behind for you. That was 3 months ago. Now, fully settled in your new space, you’ve decided to restart college to finish your degree that was put on pause because of a giant purple psycho. You had decided you will stop the whole Avenger shit the moment you lost your dad. You needed to leave that life behind in order to move on, and what better than being filthy educated and eventually finding a normal job?

Well, let’s just say it didn’t go as planned.

I mean, really, were you expecting to just magically heal from the most traumatic time of your life in three months, with no therapy or contact from your family and friends?

Panic attacks are like your best friends. The other day you had a panic attack because you found a scarf that was gifted to you by your dad. Embarrassing, really.

Nightmares are something you have been walking hand-in-hand with since your dad was kidnapped and you were just a little kid. But now, every night you close your eyes and you see your father’s lifeless eyes staring back into yours.So it’s not surprising that you have become insomniac as well.

Overall, you were continuing the Stark legacy of being severely mentally ill but not doing anything to help it or accepting any help. The only difference was that you chose NOT to drink until you blacked out because after watching your dad do that as a kid, you developed a strong distaste for any type of alcohol. It was so bad, that you got diagnosed with dispophobia– a persistent fear of drinking alcohol. It’s real, look it up.

You chose the other option—pushing everyone around you away until you wallowed in your misery, loneliness and sorrows.

This behaviour of yours was constantly stressing Pepper, Rhodey and Happy out. All three of them did their best to help you and make you socialise, but everytime they approached, you either ignored their calls and messages or told them you were busy (by busy you meant that you were tinkering on your father’s old suits that you moved to your apartment, but you didn’t tell them that.)

Even FRIDAY tried giving them updates on your well-being but you had threatened the AI to not “leak” any of your “information”. This was giving the three of them a major déjà vu. Eventually, they had enough and Rhodey came to your house one day because he knew he’s the only one who can call out your shit. He kinda had a Phd in tackling the Stark family’s issues.

“Look kid, it’s been 3 months. You haven’t bothered to call or text any of us. We didn’t even know if you were alive since you have banned FRIDAY from reporting anything to us as well. Can you please spend one evening with us for a dinner? Hell, if not all of us,then atleast meet up with Morgan?”, Rhodey said firmly with his eyebrows furrowed and arms folded tightly around his chest, leaning on your kitchen island.

You were making your dinner when he decided to come over. Trying your best to be nonchalant, you kept stirring the soup with your back to him, and scoffed, “You sound exactly like dad sometimes.”

Rhodey closed his eyes in frustration. “That’s not important right now. You’re doing the same thing that Tony did when he was feeling all these… emotions. Please, stop this kiddo. You’ve got all of us. Always. Just reach out once and we’ll be there to catch you”, he replied in a soft tone.

You took a deep breath and he saw your shoulders go up and down. You stopped stirring the soup, turned the gas off and turned around to face him.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, making yourself smaller, and intently focused on your shoes to avoid meeting his eyes.

“There’s nothing to ask. I’ve already told you I will be starting college soon. I’ll keep myself productive and occupied. It’ll be alright, don’t worry about me”, you say, your voice scratchy after not using it for a long time.

Rhodey observed you with his sharp gaze. You knew you were screwed the moment you saw Rhodey at the door because he could read you like a book. Honestly, it was extremely intimidating but you will never admit that to his face. He’s been around for your whole life- right from your birth. He knew you like you were his own child.

“FRIDAY, activate babysitter protocol”, he said, his voice stern.

You snapped your gaze up from your shoes to stare at him in confusion.

“On it Mr. Rhodes”, FRIDAY replied.

“What the hell is this?”, you replied narrowing your eyes at him.

“I know you blocked FRIDAY from telling us anything about you. Did you know Tony had an emergency protocol built in so that if there’s anything that went wrong while you were alone, FRIDAY would update him?”, Rhodey replied nonchalantly.

You widened your eyes and immediately teared up on hearing how protective your dad was over you. You were too tired to fight back so you just shut your eyes and wrapped your arms around your body tighter.

“FRIDAY, give me a proper run down of the kid’s activities and schedule in this past month. Including their health”, Rhodey asked the AI while observing you closely.

“OK sir. In this month, they have stepped out of the house only once for buying groceries. The rest of the month they’ve been at home, fixing Mr Stark’s suits”, FRIDAY finished.

At this, Rhodey’s eyes widened. “Tony’s suits? How did you even get these suits?” “They sneaked in the suits 2 months ago, Sir”, Rhodey’s eyes snapped back to yours. 2 months ago- right after you moved in. The suits were at the new compound and they were heavily guarded.

They should’ve known better because did they really expect you, a genius like your father, to not figure out how to hack the systems? It was a cakewalk for you.

You scrunched your eyes in shame and bowed your head. “Kid….”, he sighed.

“Tell me about their health, FRI”, Rhodey asked in a pained voice.

“They’ve had panic attacks almost every week. I suggested taking medication or visiting the therapist, but my requests were ignored. I’ve also observed a spike in their heartbeat everytime a loud noise is heard. They have nightmares regularly due to which they have stopped sleeping altogether. All the stress has made them lose weight, their appetite has lessened and has made them more irritable and unpredictable”, FRIDAY finished (snitched, you think).

Hearing it from someone else made it sound so much worse. You couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down your face.

You were too busy keeping the sobs from coming out of your mouth to notice Rhodey coming closer and wrapping his arms around you. He brought you closer and hugged you tightly and that completely broke you.

You leaned your head against his chest and wrapped your arms around his torso and just sobbed. Rhodey hushed you gently and rubbed your back softly with one of his hands.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t deal with this, Uncle. Please. I need him back”, you said in between sobs while clutching him tightly and pressing your face into his chest. Rhodey teared up at this and put one of his hands behind your head.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Let it out. I’m so sorry I didn’t visit you sooner. I know what you’re feeling. But I’ve got you now. Please allow me to help you?”, he said weakly.

You let out a shuddering breath and tried to calm yourself down. “Okay. ”, you replied in a weak voice. Rhodey broke the hug before putting his hands on your shoulders and let you wipe your tears. He caressed your head and told you, “We’re gonna get you something to eat first. From tomorrow, we will work on your routine and talk to your therapist about your insomnia and panic attacks. And then, you will be taking lots of rest. No more tinkering on the suits endlessly or skipping meals. We will go on walks and you will have a dinner with us at the cabin soon. That okay?”, he asked gently. You looked up at him and nodded your head yes. “Good. Now, you sit your ass down and Rest. Let me prepare your dinner”, he says while moving around you to get to the stove. “Do you even know how to turn on the stove?”, you say in a stuffy voice while wiping your nose with your sleeve and side eyeing him. He abruptly pauses and turns around. “You’re such a little shit, you know that?”, he says sassily while pointing a finger at you. That brings out a genuine smile from you and you just chuckle before he starts laughing as well. Your smile fades slowly. “Thank you. This means a lot to me,” you reply softly. Both of your eyes start tearing up and he just nods his head before giving you a side hug. “Anything for my favourite Stark”, he says in a shaky voice.

2 Months Later

You and Rhodey fell into a rhythm after that night. He stayed with you for some days and got you checked with your therapist and helped you around the house. He took you out for jogs every morning, made you work out and exercise every day. This made you feel productive and gave you a routine to follow. It also improved your appetite and you started to genuinely enjoy making healthy and filling meals.

You stopped unnecessarily tinkering on the suits and the medicines prescribed by your doctor helped you sleep better. You still had a long way to go but you had finally started stepping out of the house and went to a dinner at the cabin. Happy, Pepper and Morgan were so delighted to see you and they told you how proud they are of you. You just gave all the credit to your uncle Rhodey.

Rhodey had become a major figure in your life lately. He’d always been there for you and your dad but now he was like a teacher and mentor to you. All thanks to him, you could get your life back on track. And he was happy to help you anyways because you were like his own child.

But he’d started to take you to various social events lately and you HATED that. You were always a shy and socially anxious kid (a complete opposite of your father.) So the thought of attending social events where so many people and cameras were present…that was enough to send you into an early grave.

“Rhodey….for the last time. I’m not going with you. What am I even gonna do there? Sit and yawn while all you military and political people make speeches? No thanks”, you said breathlessly and jogged a little ahead of him.

He joined you immediately, huffing and puffing, “First of all.” Huff. “Slow DOWN. Jesus Christ.” Huff. And he stopped while putting his hands on his knees.

“Keep up, lazy! We gotta keep THE War Machine kicking and alive, come on!”, you say while jogging backwards and smiling at him.

When you saw that he was not going to join you, you stopped and jogged over to him. “Lazy, my ass. I’m 60 years old, you little shit”, he said while looking up at you, eyes narrowed and hands still on his knees. Still huffing and puffing.

You chuckled and helped him stand up with your arm around his back and another arm holding his. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You wanna sit down? Might as well drink some water, I’m thirsty.”

He nods his head yes and both of you sit down on a nearby bench and take a breather. You’re quiet for sometime, soaking in the crisp morning air and looking at the water fountain in front of you when Rhodey speaks up.

“I know you hate these events. But, please come to this one. We have a reunion in order, anyways”, he says cheekily while looking at you with that big smile of his plastered on his face.

You turned your head to look at him and raised your eyebrow, “Reunion? With whom?”, you ask skeptically. “Please don’t say Steve Rogers, Rhodey. I swear to god, I will never step foot in this city again”, you say, irritated.

He scoffed, “Nah, don’t worry. That’s never happening. It’s Sam. He’s been telling me that he wants to meet you.”

You observed his face for a second to see if he was being serious. “Sam? Sam Wilson? Why would he want to meet me?”, you asked, confused. Ever since the Sokovia Accords were brought into existence and ever since you sided with your father, Steve and the others didn’t want anything to do with your family. But you didn’t have anything against any of them— well, except for Steve. That was personal.

Even back then, you told your dad that you thought Bucky was innocent and that you want him to forgive Bucky somehow. You never met your grandparents so their accident/murder didn’t affect you. And you especially didn’t give a fuck about your deadbeat grandfather who would abuse your dad, but you felt your dad’s anger was justified as he loved his mom. You didn’t have an issue with Sam either. Not even when Rhodey met with that fatal accident that made him lose his legs. You saw the footage, and Rhodey told you as well, that Sam simply dodged. He didn’t cause the fall, nor did he injure him on purpose. The fall happened because his suit malfunctioned. But since Steve was the glue that was holding them together, they avoided talking to you at all. They were simply being loyal. And we all know how Steve Rogers thanked their loyalty in the end.

You would never forgive him for breaking your dysfunctional-found-family apart by being a selfish asshole and by abandoning your dad when he needed his support the most.

Rhodey shrugged. “Dunno. But he was looking forward to meeting you. He’s the kindest man I know, kid. And I know you don’t hold a grudge against him either. Please, come with me. I promise we will go get some ice cream later”, he said earnestly and smiled.

You let out a deep sigh. “Chocolate chips. Double scoop”, you said and lifted your water bottle to drink to avoid looking at his smug expression.

“Oh, you shall get anything you ask for, your highness”, he said while extravagantly bowing at you.

You just smirked and got back up to jog.

The constant clicking of the cameras was quickly causing a throbbing ache to appear behind your eyes. You were dressed in your formal clothes, presentable as always, and entered the museum arm-in-arm with Rhodey.

After giving a thousand repetitive interviews, half of which Rhodey denied on your behalf, you finally saw the man in question—Sam Wilson. Captain America.

Honestly, you were so proud of and excited for him to take up the mantle. It wasn’t a shock that Steve handed over that shield to Sam. He deserved it.

He saw the two of you and came over to talk. As he came closer, you saw just how shocked he was to see you there.

“Whats up, man? How are you?”, Sam said while shaking hands with Rhodey and bringing him in for a hug, all the while flashing his lovely, tooth-gaped smile.

Rhodey patted his back and broke away from the hug. “The usual. I got a surprise for you”, Rhodey said while putting an arm around your shoulder.

Sam, still surprised, flashed another one of his smiles at you.

“I just can’t believe you’re here. I hope you know how grateful I am”, he said earnestly while putting his hand out to shake yours.

You looked at his hand and shook it. “I’m surprised you wanted to meet me”, you say while smirking at him.

His smile faded after hearing that and he looked at you with a solemn expression.

“Yeah. I’m sorry it took me so long. I-” “Mr. Wilson, it’s your turn to speak.” Sam looked back at the woman and nodded his head at her.

“Uh…I’ll catch up with you after all this is done. Please wait until then?”, Sam turned around and asked you, nervously.

Rhodey looked at you to decipher your reaction. “Okay. I’ll wait. But not for long and not in front of these cameras”, you say coolly.

Sam smiles at you and Rhodey before approaching the stage.

“See? That wasn’t so bad”, Rhodey says while leading you to sit at the front row.

“We’ll see about that— not the front row, Rhodes... It’s like you want me to run away”, you groaned while slowing your pace.

Rhodey just laughs and pats your shoulder. “Come on, I’ll be next to you the whole time. You can even crush my hand if you want to.”

You and Rhodey sat down and watched Sam approach the stage.

Sam looked sharp in his well-fitted suit but something about his expression screamed anxiety.

He began his speech.

“Steve represented the best in all of us. Courageous, righteous, hopeful. And he mastered posing stoically”, everyone chuckled at that. You scoffed.

“The world has been forever changed. A few months ago, billions of people reappeared after five years away, sending the world into turmoil. We need new heroes. Ones suited for the times we're in. Symbols...are nothing without the women and men that give them meaning. And this thing...”, he chuckles before picking up the shield and continuing.

“I don't know if there's ever been a greater symbol. But it's more about the man who propped it up, and he's gone. So, today we honor Steve's legacy. But also, we look to the future. So, thank you, Captain America. But this belongs to you”, Sam concluded and handed over the shield to the museum security who then put encased it in a glass case. The camera flashes went off.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. You knew something was wrong the moment Sam stepped up on the stage. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

You furrowed your eyebrows and turned your head to look at Rhodey.

“Why did he give up the shield?”, you asked confused.

Rhodey solemnly smiled.

“Maybe try talking to Sam about this?”, he explained to you, gently.

You nodded your head in understanding.

Rhodey went over to talk to Sam while you checked out the other exhibits to give them a little privacy.

You ended up looking at Bucky’s exhibit.

They were displaying those clips of him in the 40s, smiling and free of all the pain, and they made your heart clench in sadness and guilt. He deserved better.

“Still can’t believe bionic staring machine was a heartbreaker back then”, you heard Sam’s voice behind you.

You looked at him and smirked.

“As if he’s not a heartbreaker anymore. Those baby blue’s? Could break a grandma’s heart too, which is funny because he would still be older than her”, you joked and looked back at the display.

Sam stood to your right with his hands in his pockets. He laughed at your joke and looked up at the TV displaying Steve and Bucky together.

He let out a sigh and brought his lips together in a thin line.

You looked over to him and studied his profile observed the way he carried tension in his shoulders.

“Penny for your thoughts?”, you asked him gently.

He shut his eyes and looked down, letting out another deep sigh.

“Kid…I’m sorry”, he said, his voice heavy with guilt.

You furrowed your brows.

“For what?”, you asked, genuinely confused.

Sam finally looked up at you with teary eyes. His brows scrunched together.

“Everything. The accords…Rhodey’s acci- injuries. For-for not making an attempt to maintain contact with you, for-”

“Hey. Don’t. I’m not angry about any of that. I never was. And I will never hold a grudge against anyone that wasn’t on my da- on our side”, you cut him off and explained to him firmly. “And if Rhodey isn’t upset about his accident, then who am I to question it? I know you didn’t dodge. It was an accident. I saw the footage way back then, Sam”, you laid your hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

He was overcome with emotion. He deflated as if years’ worth of weight on his shoulders had been lifted off of him. He simply nodded his head.

“If anything, I’m sorry. For everything you had to go through. I hope you’re doing better, now”, you continued.

Sam gave you a half smile.

“Yeah, I’m good. Helpin’ out my sister with the house and my nephews.”

You raised your eyebrows, surprised. You didn’t know he had a sister or nephews.

Sam chuckled. “Yeah…I got a younger sister and 2 nephews— AJ and Cass.”

You smiled. “I had no idea. I’m glad you guys can live together again”, you replied sincerely.

“Thank you, kid. I had no idea you’re so….nice”, he smirked.

You let out a loud laugh. Contrary to popular belief and rumours, you were a good and polite kid. Your dad, Pepper, Rhodey and Happy made sure of that. It was always funny to find out how people would judge you on the basis of your last name. But, it could also be because of your resting bitch face.

Both of you quieted down and looked at the display once again, when you decided to finally bring it up.

“Sam, why’d you give up the shield?”, you asked curiously.

He pursed his lips.

“That shield is heavy. And I don’t know if this country is ready to see a man like me bear the weight of it. No matter how many times everyone keeps telling me that it was Steve’s choice, they don’t know the consequences of me being Captain America until they wear my shoes. Steve didn’t know it either because at the end of the day, our skin colour doesn’t match and that isn’t suitable for the shield”, he replied heavily.

It felt like someone had put cold water on top of you, his words cutting straight through your ignorance. The pressure that Sam was undergoing would never be understood by anyone who didn’t look like him. That’s why Rhodey was so understanding of his decision.

You straightened up.

“Oh. Sam, I’m so sorry. I didn’t-”, you paused to gather your thoughts and word them carefully. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I should’ve known better. I understand. And I respect your decision”, you replied, genuine understanding dripping from your words.

Sam looked at you, surprised. He wasn’t expecting you to understand his situation.

“That’s- it’s..alright kid. Thank you for understanding me. It means a lot”, he replied sincerely and patted your shoulder.

You were about to take his leave when he spoke up.

“Listen, I got a proposal for you.”

You quirked an eyebrow.

“Just…hear me out, okay? Rhodey told me to keep an eye out for you whenever he’s busy. Says you do well with discipline in your routine. If you don’t mind, you could join me and help me out with the tech stuff, you know?”, he said hesitantly.

You were about to deny his offer when he put his hands out in a placating gesture.

“I know, it’s been a long time. You’re not interested in this stuff anymore. But I could use some extra hands and who better than a Stark to help out with technology, right? And, who knows, maybe you’ll make a friend”, he tried to convince you.

“A friend? You think I’m some loner or what, Wilson? (You kind of were, a loner, but we will ignore that.) And just who is this friend?”, you asked him with narrowed eyes.

“He’s my new team member. A tech savvy nerd, like you. You’ll get along, trust me. Except I’ll warn you, that boy yaps a Lot”, Sam replied while chuckling.

That sounded way too familiar to you. You immediately froze and just stared at Sam, lost in thought. All those unwanted and painful memories were coming back to you.

Sam put his hand on your shoulder and you snapped out of your stupor.

“You don’t have to answer me immediately. Take your time, the offer is always open for you. Okay?”, he asked hopefully, ever the optimistic counselor.

You let out a big sigh.

“I don’t know. I’ll see”, you murmured. You could feel that uneasy feeling creep up your veins that told you to shut down, keep everyone away and to run somewhere far away where you could be isolated in peace.

You were finally feeling comfortable in your little bubble that consisted of you, Rhodey, Pepper, Happy and Morgan. Now you had to go out and make yourself accommodating and welcoming again. You had to repeat everything and start from scratch. It was a lot. You were not ready for that.

Healing is never linear, you knew that. But you were doing so well for the past two months. You clenched your fists and begged your mind to keep it together. You were pretty good at masking it.

Sam just nodded his head and patted your arm.

“Come on, I’ll walk you and Rhodey off.”

You both returned to Rhodey and said your goodbyes.

“See ya, old man. Take care of yo’self, alright?”, Sam said while hugging Rhodey.

“You too, Wilson”, Rhodey said before breaking the hug and patting Sam’s back.

“I’m proud of you, Sam. Never forget that”, Rhodey said gently.

Sam just smiled weakly and patted Rhodey’s shoulder before turning to look at you.

You looked at him and gave him a barely there smile before surprising him with a hug. You don’t know what came over you but you just wanted him to know that you appreciated his support and the conversation that you two had back there. Your words failed you, so you did the next best thing you knew– a hug.

He looked at Rhodey over your shoulder and patted your back like an older brother.

“Take care, kid. Think about what I said”, he said after breaking off the hug.

You simply nodded your head yes.

“And both of you are invited to the family cookout, alright? Rhodes, make sure you bring them with you. Sarah makes a mean cornbread”, Sam says while pointing at you.

Rhodey chuckles and you grin before departing.

You sat in the car and looked out of the window, deep in thought. You were processing your conversation with Sam and debating whether you should join him, or not. You couldn’t help but keep thinking about this friend that he mentioned and how he reminded you too much of-

“Whatcha thinkin’?”, Rhodey asked lightly, as if to not startle you.

You glanced back at him and turned your attention to the front of the car. You sighed softly.

“Had a good chat with Sam. We apologised to each other and sorted out our misconceptions.”

“That’s good, right?”, Rhodey asked and tilted his head to look at you.

You nodded. “Yeah. It was really nice to clear all of that up. He’s so…lovely to talk to. We also talked about his decision to give up the shield. I felt so stupid when he explained it to me. How could I not understand that beforehand?”, you said while clenching your jaw, feeling guilty for judging his decision.

Rhodey gave you a soft smile.

“Atleast you’re self-aware, sweetheart”, he said lightly.

You finally gave him a smile.

“Yeah. He also gave me an offer. To join him”, you said hesitantly.

Rhodey smirked knowingly. Sam had already discussed this with him.

“And? What’re you thinking?”, Rhodey asked nonchalantly so as to not freak you out.

You let out a deep breath.

“I don’t know. I’ll think over it”, you replied with finality in your tone.

Rhodey felt the walls build up again so he backed off instead of pestering you to talk more.

“That’s okay. You can take all the time you want, kid. There’s no rush”, Rhodey said sincerely.

You looked at him and squeezed his hand.

“Shall we go get that ice-cream now, your highness?”, Rhodey joked.

You finally let out a chuckle and nodded your head yes before turning your attention back towards the window. You let out a sigh.

You were not going to get any sleep tonight.

Part 2

—————————————————————————

AN: Whew. This was so LONG, I’m so sorry. 😭🙏 but I just couldn’t stop writing because I love me a stark!reader as that’s literally me but also I needed some found family content + closure between the stark family and the cap fam, too. Which is why I had to break it in 2 parts. Our lovebirds will meet in the 2nd part. Keep guessing the references and this mystery person until then.😛 thank you for reading!

[love-hs28]

Late Nights and Close Calls

Summary: You and Peter sneak a bottle of champagne from one of your dad’s - Tony Stark’s - parties at the Avengers Tower. Giggling and hanging out in your room, one quiet moment leads to you almost confessing your feelings to your best friend. 

Mcu!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader Fluff 1.2k Words Posted on: 2-19-2025 masterlist

The bass from the party downstairs thrums through the walls of the Avengers Tower, muffled but insistent, like the pulse of New York City itself. You lean against the door to your bedroom, biting back a grin as Peter scrambles to follow you inside and shut the door behind him, cradling a stolen bottle of champagne like it was radioactive. 

“I can’t believe you actually went through with it,” you whisper, your voice tinged with awe and laughter. You walk over to your bed and flop down on the mattress, Peter quick to follow. 

He turns to face you, his boyish grin equal parts triumph and nervous energy. “What can I say? I thrive under pressure.” He wiggles the bottle in his hands. “Besides, it’s not like Mr. Stark’s going to miss one bottle right?” You know he’s trying to convince both himself and you of this. 

You let out a snort of laughter, crossing your legs as you got comfortable on your bed and as Peter sat next to you, leaning against the wall. “I sure hope not. We’re dead if he catches us. And by ‘we’, I mean you.” 

Peter smirks, a teasing edge in his voice. “Good to know where your loyalties lie, Stark.” 

You roll your eyes, but are unable to hide your smile as you reach and grab two mismatched mugs from your nightstand. One of them has a Spider-Man design on it that Peter had jokingly given you as a birthday present, and he secretly smiled to himself at the realization that you’d actually been using it. 

“Here. Fancy drinking glasses for our super-classy operation.” 

Peter chuckles and pops the cork with a loud pop, making both of you jump and laugh. Bubbles froth over the top, and he quickly pours some into the mugs in your hands, spilling more than he probably should. 

“To bad decisions and avoiding your dad’s wrath,” Peter says, setting the bottle on the nightstand to grab his mug from you, holding it up in a mock toast. 

“To bad influences,” you shoot back, clinking your mug against his. You both take a sip, eyes smiling at each other over the tops of the cups.

The champagne was sweet and fizzy, a little stronger than you had expected, but the warmth it brought to your chest was welcome. You scoot over you so you’re sitting next to Peter, your shoulders close enough to touch every time one of you moves. 

“This is way better than listening to my dad schmooze with a bunch of billionaires,” you say after a minute or two of talking, tipping your mug towards Peter and resting your head on his shoulder for a moment. 

“You mean you’re not interested in talks about stock portfolios and advanced AI?” Peter quips, raising a teasing eyebrow. 

You laugh, the sound light and easy thanks to the drink. “Not even a little.” 

The two of you settle into a rhythm of a familiar banter and conversation, the champagne loosening any nerves. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d laughed this much. Peter was good at that - at making you forget the weight of expectations, the constant pressure to be more than just the Tony Stark’s daughter. 

Somewhere in the middle of a story about one of Peter’s disastrous attempts to ask a girl to homecoming freshman year, you found yourself staring at him. His face was animated, his hands gesturing wildly as he spoke. The soft glow of the city lights through your window and your desk lamp cast golden highlights in his hair, and his eyes—warm and expressive—crinkled at the corners when he laughed. It was one of your favorite things about him. 

You didn’t realize you were smiling until Peter stopped mid-sentence, turning his head to meet your gaze. 

“What?” he asks, his voice softer now, the teasing edge gone. 

You shake your head, heart fluttering in a way you didn’t quite know how to handle. Damn, this champagne was making it hard to think… it totally wasn’t Peter that was causing your brain to short-circuit, right? 

“Nothing. Just… you’re really great, you know that right? I’m glad you're my best friend.” 

Peter blushes, looking at his mug and trying, but failing, to suppress a smile. “Thanks, y/n. I’m glad you’re my best friend too.” 

He turns his head to look at you again, and your breath catches, the words hanging between the two of you like a live wire. For a moment, you think he might say something more—something that you were also thinking, something that would change your friendship forever. 

Another moment of silence passes as you just stare into each other’s eyes. You get a sudden urge of confidence, thanks to the effects of the alcohol neither of you were very familiar with. 

“Peter, I–” 

A loud boom from outside causes you both to jump, and your heads turn to look out your window, where you see an array of fireworks going off, some in the shape of Iron Man’s helmet. It was as if Tony was listening in on you and purposely stopped you from saying what you were about to confess.

Great timing, dad. Thanks a lot.

Peter laughs awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. “Your dad sure knows how to throw a party,” he turns to meet your eyes, but looks away quickly with a shy smile, still blushing from your almost-confession. 

You laugh softly, also avoiding Peter’s gaze and fixing your stare to your mug. “No kidding.” You didn’t know if you were thankful for the interruption or should yell at your dad later for setting off his stupid fireworks. Maybe it was for the better, though; Peter seemed to want to ignore it, so maybe you should too. 

What you hadn’t noticed, though, was that Peter had also been staring at you all night, just as much as you were staring at him, if not more. 

Thankfully, the effects of the champagne hadn’t quite faded yet, so the awkwardness between you two faded as quickly as it had appeared; something that always seemed to be happening to the two of you. 

You bump your shoulder against Peter’s. “Wanna head back out there?” 

Peter smiles at you, taking a sip of his champagne. “Nah, I’d rather stay here with you. Besides, I think it would be pretty obvious that we’ve been, you know, having fun up here.” 

You blush at the accidental insinuation that Peter had just made, but you knew he only meant that you had been drinking. He seemed oblivious to it though, so you decided not to make a joke about it and spare yourselves any more awkwardness. 

“True,” you say with a soft laugh, “I’d rather be here too, anyways. You don’t totally suck to hang out with.” 

Peter laughs softly and it’s his turn to bump your shoulder with his, the slight contact almost making you shiver. “Yeah, yeah, you’re not so bad yourself.” 

You spent the next hour or two doing the same thing you always did—making each other laugh and testing the hell out of Peter. And, even though neither of you said what you were really thinking, it was okay. You knew there would be other moments—other nights like this where the words might finally spill out. 

For now, this was enough.

Thank you for reading! My first mcu!peter fic yay!! I have lots more in my drafts lol, so lmk if u wanna see more of himmmm. Tom Holland was my first ever celebrity crush and I am a MASSIVE Marvel fan, so this Peter holds a special place in my heart :) Again, thanks for readin and I hope you liked itttt! xoxo

[dirtyhotd]

#29

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Rule Breaker

Summary: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader -> Your dad, Tony Stark, has one rule. Don't leave the house after midnight. So what happens when Bucky Barnes finds you breaking that rule?

Disclaimer: Fluff, some angst, but mostly fluff, reader is in mid-twenties, kinda ignoring the end of CW, brief mention of periods, Bucky gets nightmares and reader helps, falling asleep on the sofa together, a bike ride with Bucky, falling in love, happy/open ended. Not fully proof read.

With having Tony Stark as your, technical, dad – there had only ever been one rule in the house. 

No leaving the house after midnight. 

And he made you swear to it as a kid, and on your eighteenth birthday. That, no matter where you were in the world; with him or without him. You wouldn’t leave the house after midnight. 

“There’s a lot of terrible people out there, and I don’t want you getting hurt.” 

That, after a lot of sarcastic jokes and ramblings, is what he would tell you. That he didn’t want you getting hurt. Of course, you tried your best not to break it. 

And you didn’t. 

Until one night after your college roommate pounded their fist on the door and told you they needed to rush their friend to the emergency room. And the night when you, technically, were out after midnight. But could that really be considered staying out when you were still at the library you’d walked into at ten in the morning and hadn’t left all day?

And until the nights Bucky caught you sneaking out. 

You’d left your room like usual, a little after one in the morning. Everyone, including the super soldiers, were snug in their beds fast asleep. With your jacket in one hand, and your shoes in the other, you padded your way as quickly and as quietly as you could down the hall. 

You paused before every door and waited ten seconds before making it past their door in two jumps. Natasha had taught you ballet as a teenager, which came in handy for moments like that. 

Eventually, you made it into the kitchen. 

Nobody was awake. 

You grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, stuffed it into your bag and swiftly made your way down to the garage. 

Nobody was awake and you were four minutes away from leaving. 

Until you heard a voice. 

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You spun around so fast, you almost gave yourself whiplash. “Bucky,” you sounded shocked. 

He just stared you down. 

“I was just…going out.”

“After midnight?” Bucky questioned. 

You nodded. “Yep, supply run.”

“Supply run? What supplies do you need? Because Natasha did the shopping this week and I know she got pads and tampons because she made me go and get them.” Bucky told you. “And any other supplies are stocked in the medical wing. So, I’ll ask again; where do you think you’re going?”

He stared you down again, and this time you sighed. 

“Okay, I’ll tell you. But you have to promise you won’t tell my dad.”

Bucky just waited. 

“I’m going to the beach.”

“On my stolen bike?”

You shrugged a little, “Well, technically, it’s not stolen. Just temporarily borrowed.”

“Without my knowledge?”

You confirmed his statement slowly, “Without…your knowledge. Look, please, please don’t be mad or tell my dad. I just…I need to get out of here and- what- what are you doing?”

Bucky rounded you, placing your bag into the storage holder before planting himself on the bike. 

“What does it look like? I’m coming with you.”

“You don’t-”

Bucky looked at you. “Unless you’d like for Tony to find out you’ve been breaking his one rule for three weeks straight, I’m coming with you.”

You sighed, “Fine.”

“Hop on,” he told you before he added, “Hold on tight.”

You did so as he kicked the stand away and started to rev the engine as quietly as he could. Thirty seconds later, you were outside on the road. After ten minutes, you were away from the city and headed towards the coast line. 

“How did you…” You were shocked and surprised that Bucky knew where you wanted to go. Either he was a mind reader, or he wanted to go, too. 

“You cleaned the bike but not your boots. There was sand around my bike.” 

Or just incredibly observant. 

As Bucky lifted himself from the bike, he watched you jog over to a food stand not too far from where he parked. The owner of the truck smiled down at you. 

“The usual?”

You nodded. “Double it. I’ve got a guest.”

“You got it, kid. Be right with you.”

You smiled at the owner. “Thanks.”

Five minutes later, you walked back with a paper bag in your hand. Then you threw Bucky a smile. “Come on, I don’t wanna miss it.”

He followed behind you, up the small sand hill before he looked around to find you already halfway up the sand dune to his right. He was quick to follow. 

You eventually sat down one sand dune over. With no sun to heat it, the sand was cold beneath him as he sat down, but you didn’t seem to care. Your gaze looked out over the dark sky that was just starting to grow a few shades lighter than when you’d first left the compound. 

After a few minutes of quiet breathing, you took a take-away box out of the bag and handed it to him, before opening up your own. 

“They’re the best fries in the whole world. I have been to almost every major city in the world and none of them beat this.”

Bucky watched you for a moment before he popped open his box. The heat was the first thing to hit his face, then the smell. Freshly cooked fries, with the skin, and some kind of peppery kick. 

Bucky kept your silence for a while as the sky began turning brighter. But with one question still bugging him, he felt the need to ask. 

“Why do you do it?”

“Why do I do what?” You asked. 

“Sneak out. Break his rule. From what I know, you’re a smart person. Why break his one rule?”

You were truthful when you answered Bucky’s question. There was no reason to lie to him. Maybe you didn’t talk a lot, but you were still friends. He was the one who stayed up with you when everyone else went to bed. You were the one to stay with him when he went to the gym during the day, after a nightmare. You were the one who stayed so he wouldn’t be alone. He was the one who stayed so you wouldn’t be alone. 

“I needed some time to myself without everyone’s questions,” you told him. “About my future, my plans, grad school projects, Shield initiatives, Avengers panels. Everything. I also haven’t been sleeping that much and…I’m already awake, might as well see something beautiful.”

Bucky eventually turned his eyes from you to the rising sun in the distance. But then he looked back at you, watching the rays slowly but surely light up your face. The slightly different colours in your hair glowing in lighter and darker shades. 

Then he saw your eyes. 

A golden hue dusted over your iris, and for the first time, he saw you clearly. He’d seen you for a while. The way you talked, the way you walked, the way you carried yourself despite the ego centric maniacs you had to deal with almost every day. 

But sitting on cold sand, his lap heated from a take-away container box and the sun slowly warming his own face, he saw you. 

He saw the kindness in your eyes, like he always did. But he also saw the tiredness. The need for freedom. The need for a break, even if just for a couple of hours. He saw the colour of your eyes and realised that he no longer had a word for them. Just that stating the colour wasn’t enough. 

Bucky saw how, in the fresh light of day, you were simply…you. 

You weren’t Tony Stark’s daughter, or a part-time Shield agent. Hell, you weren’t even a grad-student at that moment. You were…you. 

“What?” You asked, hiding your smile by popping another couple of fries into your mouth. “You’re looking at me funny.”

Bucky managed to recover himself and shook his head with a slight smile. “Nothing. Just…next time you wanna come out here, tell me and I’ll come with you.”

You felt a small eruption of excitement in your belly at his comment. You’d been sneaking out for so long in order to get away from everyone, you’d forgotten how nice it was to actually have company every once in a while. 

“Okay, but I’m gonna hold you to that.”

Bucky smiled. “I hope so.”

And thankfully for Bucky, you did. 

Slowly but surely, it became your go-to thing with him. Even on the weeks where he had a mission, if you weren’t at home, he knew where he could find you. And you’d save him a box of fries each time. 

As the weeks led on into months, you and Bucky started to grow closer. And you began to sleep more. 

It had started when, like you would do on the beach, you laid your head on his shoulder during a movie night and fell almost immediately to sleep. You woke up in your own bed in the morning, but you’d missed your alarm. 

With that happening more often, Bucky started falling asleep next to you, too. And, as much as Tony would groan about it, Pepper would just shove him lightly on the back to keep him walking. 

“Leave them be, they’re not harming anyone.”

“They’re sleeping together, Pep. She’s my kid.”

Pepper nodded. “Who is in her mid-twenties and already has two PhD’s to her name. Leave them be.”

 Tony agreed, but he still didn’t like it. And the parent inside of him hated it even more so when he woke up in the morning to find out he was the first one awake. Meaning, when he walked back into the living area, he found you asleep on Bucky’s chest, both of you laid under a blanket on the sofa. 

But despite all the feelings…he did take a picture. 

Bucky was Steve’s friend. And Tony trusted Steve. So, in a very, very roundabout way, he trusted Bucky, too. 

But you were still his kid. 

Then, after a few months, you stopped sleeping. 

A heavy snow had settled over the country so the beach was off limits, as were the roads. So, sitting in front of the fire in the silence of the compound whilst looking out to the never ending forest was starting to become the next best thing. 

However, it was in this silence you started to hear noises. Faint cries, rough movements of bed sheets and then Friday’s voice quietly talking through your phone. 

“It seems Mr Barnes is having a nightmare.”

You were on your feet immediately, rushing down the hallway, your footsteps muffled by your thermal socks. His door opened with a soft click and that was where you saw him. 

Tangled in his bedsheets, his muscles tensing, his breathing uneven, and a stream of quiet Russian words falling from his lips. 

You hurried forward and sat on the edge of the bed, calling his name. For a moment, his voice became almost silent, but then the words started again. So, you touched his arm. And then his other. 

Keeping his name on your lips like a prayer, you shook him awake. At first, he woke up with a start. Disoriented and confused at his surroundings. Then his hearing focused on your voice like you were asking him to. 

“You’re safe. Just keep focusing on my voice. Your heart is moving too fast, Bucky. I need you to calm down.” You nodded as his hand reached out and held your arm, his head low. “That’s it, just…keep breathing. In and out. Deep, slow breaths.”

As his breathing evened out, he swallowed thickly. You reached for the glass of water on the side of his bed and handed it to him. He downed most of it before handing you back the glass with a shaky hand. 

The hand you held steady as you put the glass back on his bedside table. 

“Did I…did I wake you?”

You’d never heard Bucky’s voice so…scared. So small and tired. 

You shook your head. “No. I was already awake. I thought I heard something then Friday told me. Just keep breathing.”

“Will you stay?” 

He asked before he could stop himself, but at that moment, he was too terrified to be alone. You nodded. 

“For as long as you need me.”

It took a few minutes before he had the strength to move, but once he finally did, you turned him onto his side. Carefully, you slotted your legs into the arch of his, wrapped your arm over his ribcage and pressed your forehead against his back. 

His hand held onto yours just over his heart as he fell asleep. And you did, too – by counting the steading beats of his heart as you stayed with him. 

By the time either of you woke up, you were practically lying exactly on top of him, buried under the duvet covers with him. 

Even long after you knew he was awake, you both stayed still. Too worried to move, too scared to let go and face reality outside his bedroom door. You were Tony Stark’s daughter, and barely two years ago, Bucky had been the subject of a world wide manhunt. 

“How are you feeling?” You asked after a while. 

He felt himself swallow his nerves, but his voice still came out quiet and a little shaky. “Better. Thank…thank you for staying.”

You moved a little in order to look up at him. “You don’t have to thank me for staying, but you’re welcome.”

In the short moment Bucky looked down to face you, his brain seemed to forget why you had stayed, why you had even come  into his room at all. As if…you were meant to be beside him. As if you were always meant to stay right beside him. 

And as you felt his hand flex over your arm, you let yourself think the same too. 

But only for a moment. 

Because the wave of regret came crashing over him and he turned to look at his ceiling. 

“You’re not him anymore, Buck.”

With his other hand, he pinched the bridge of his nose to try and stop the tears and calm the fear building in his chest. 

“I still have nightmares. That means I remember. And that…it’s still in there.”

You shook your head and reached up to turn his head to look at you. “Hey, hey. Look at me.”

When you knew he was focusing on you and not the voices inside his head, you spoke. “I…I know I don’t know what it’s like…to go through what you did. I wasn’t there to see it, or live it. But I know you. I see you, Bucky. You are kind, and protective and god only knows the lengths you’d go to in order to help someone. The Winter Soldier…that was conditioning. That was forceful and brutal.”

If you could look deeper into his eyes, you did. 

“But that isn’t you, Bucky. It never was. It was Hydra. All that guilt, all that blame you’re putting on yourself. That belongs to them, not you.”

A tear slipped from Bucky’s eyes, but you wiped it away as it hit his cheek. 

“You’re a good person, James. I see you, I trust you and I love you. And those last two things…I don’t feel those things for just anybody.”

A small laugh left Bucky and you smiled, watching a little bit of weight leave his shoulders. You felt his hand clasp over yours before he turned his head and kissed your palm, twice and your wrist once. 

Then you leaned up and hugged him. Your legs tangled with his as he buried his face into the crook of your neck and he held on just a little tighter. 

[m00ngirl777]

Baby Kiss It, Better

Peter Parker x Reader

kiss number...13

You were half awake half asleep, in the couch of the living room, in your floor, facing the doors to the terrace Peter would climb in every night to you, your laptop on your lap with the lowest possible light setting displaying a halfway done crossword and soft music playing, nothing but some distant lights and the soft glow of the candles you liked to turn on, the velvety blanket on top of you, shielding you from the lingering cold in the room from the floor to ceiling windows, that, no matter what, kept cool, the calmest of scene suddenly disrupted when he stumbled in.

summary: Patching him up, ANGST, bby boy was shot and hes scared.

A/N: I kinda had in mind like Tobys and Andrews stories obviously, and I just feel like Peter would blame himself forever for not doing more or not being there, and getting shot for the first time ever would trigger something like this, poor baby boy needs a hug and a kiss...anyways hope you love it, thxx for reading, love u, byeeee. xoxo. -N.

p.s. my requests are open my loves<333

tw: blood, wounds, death, guns.

wc: 1569

You were half awake half asleep, in the couch of the living room, in your floor, facing the doors to the terrace Peter would climb in every night to you, your laptop on your lap with the lowest possible light setting displaying a halfway done crossword and soft music playing, nothing but some distant lights and the soft glow of the candles you liked to turn on, the velvety blanket on top of you, shielding you from the lingering cold in the room from the floor to ceiling windows, that, no matter what, kept cool, the calmest of scene suddenly disrupted when he stumbled in.

Seeming perfectly alive standing right in front of you, lifted a little weight of your chest, instantly replaced with something worse when you noticed he might not be as well as you thought. He struggled to catch his breath and kept tripping on nothing, his hand never leaving his side, you quickly scrambled to him, the previously serene ambient long gone.

“Peter? Are you okay?” You tried steadying him, hands trying to hold him upright, “talk to me baby, what’s wrong?” 

He tried taking his mask off and failed completely, falling on his knees and then back on his ass, grunting to take his mask off, breathing hard, his hand left a print of blood in the carpet making you gasp out loud. You went to kneel beside him, helping him with his mask, helping him get it off, revealing the look on his face matching that of a scared, hurt, little kid, breaking your heart.

Sweat, blood, dirt, and tears were on his face, along with that look, he was still grasping his side, you went to place your hand over his, trying to push it away lovingly to see what was wrong, cradling his head, pushing away his hand, your heart stopped seeing the shot wound. 

“Oh my God, Peter…fuck, baby talk to me please, what happened?” You pledged for him to make you understand the scene, but he was quiet, traying to catch his breath, his head fell back on the carpet, he closed his eyes. 

“Peter, I need you to stay awake,” You grabbed his face and gently shook it, needing him to keep his eyes open, feeling and being grateful for finding an exit wound, he just needed a patch. 

“Baby, I’m gonna go get the kit, just a minute, yeah?” You said, going to stand up, to with he grasped at your arm hard, panicking, pleading with his eyes, “I’m right here… baby, breath, look at me, I am right here… just going to the kitchen… one minute Peter… you're still bleeding…please,” So unwillingly you pushed his hands away, running to the kitchen for what you needed, then running back to him, with shaking hands first thing you pushed his suit dow to his hips, grabbed the alcohol from the kit and splashed your hands before throwing gloves on. 

“This is gonna burn, baby, I’m sorry,” You poured on the wounds, he groaned, one hand on your thigh, squeezing hard enough to leave a nasty bruise, “I know, I’m sorry… I’m sorry,” You scrambled thinking of what to de. Everyone was out on a mission, it was two in the morning, there was no one on call, you hoped and begged to a greater force that internally he was fine, and that it was just the enter and exit wounds you needed to worry about. 

Peter healed too fast for stitches, so you grabbed some of the special glue that had been synthesized for him, that dissolved as he clotted and other medical whatnot, squeezing some into the edges of the wound then going to squeeze to push it all together, his hand on your thigh moved to your arm, if he grabbed your a little harder you're sure he’d break something. 

“Just a little more, baby, i know it hurts,” You repeated the process with the exit wound, now making sure both openings were sticked closed, stopping the bleeding. With some cotton and more alcohol you cleaned around the wounds, Peter relaxing back, silent tears falling from the corners of his eyes, you knew for a fact this couldn’t have hurt him this much, not physically, there was something else. 

Letting the painful silence settle, you patched the wounds, with gauze then tape so he could maybe take a shower, just thinking of how to make him feel better, he was still, and quiet, the tears had stopped, an empty look in his eyes. 

“Baby, please talk to me,” You raked fingers through his hair, he closed his eyes, lip trembling again, as he weakly shook his head no, shattering your heart. 

“Can you stand?” He nodded, “okay, I’ll help you sit up, 1…2…” You helped him get up into a sitting position, he groaned. You stood up and pulled him with you, successfully getting him to stand up, leaning on you. 

You looked back down at the mess of gauze, gloves, the scattered contents of the kit, blood everywhere, stench of alcohol, and a carpet you'll have to replace, making your stomach turn. You walked him to your bathroom, setting him on a counter, drawing the loveliest of baths for him, you helped him undress, stripping him of everything, the lost and scared look in his eyes, momentarily changed for a flustered one as he stood naked in your bathroom, letting you walk him and sit him in the warm bath like he was a little kid, but soon went back to empty. 

You scrubbed and washed his body, the water darkening slightly, you washed his hair, and he closed his eyes, letting out a breath, frowning softly, face riddled with something you couldn’t point… guilt…pain…remorse…and so on.

“Please talk to me Peter… I’m terrified,” Soft fingers played with his wet curls. He shrugged gently, not being able to find anything to say. 

“I got shot,” He said, after a long pause. 

“I know…why?” he glared at you, then closed his eyes, the look on his face worsening. You took a deep breath, then pulled the plug to drain the tub, you helped him get up, rinse, and get out. You wrapped him in a big fluffy towel, drying him, careful with the wounds, wrapped in the towel you dragged him to your bed, sitting him down. You went to your closet and brought back a pair of boxers for him. 

“Can you get these on?” You asked, handing them to him as he nodded, you climbed in bed as he got them on, dropping the towel, before slightly struggling to get in bed, he sat back in the headboard, letting you pull the covers over his legs, eyes still empty, head somewhere else. 

“I’ve never been shot before…” he said in the smallest voice, tears welling up in his eyes.

He was scared.

“Baby…” You cupped his face, hugging him carefully, “It must’ve hurt so much… and the sound… I’m so sorry…” 

“I-I’m okay…” He looked down, the tears in his eyes falling, he squeezed your arm, trying to talk.

“M-my…” His face scrunched in a quiet sob, you wiped his tears with your thumbs, kissing his temple, pulling away to look at him, trying to understand, he sniffled.

“My… my uncle… was s-shot…he died… when I was 14…” He squeaked the last bit out, sobs wrecking through him as you brought him in, and suddenly everything made sense, he wasn’t just scared, he was sorry. 

“I… I looked for the guy…for weeks…I had him…I wanted him dead…I-I couldn’t… h-he stabbed me in the leg… got a-away…but now I… now I know what he felt…and he was all alone…” The sobs came back, and your heart broke further for Peter, tears of your own starting to sting your eyes. 

“You were just, a boy, baby… it wasn’t your call…there’s no way it could ever be your fault…even if there’s something you could’ve done… it’s not your responsibility” He held on to you, and your sweet words he wanted to believe, that his tortured savior complex wouldn’t let him. 

“Let me see… it was on this one?” You placed your hand over his left thigh, he had calmed down, sobs stopped, he looked sad, exhausted more than anything. He nodded, looking away and closing his eyes, you pushed his boxers up, feeling and scanning for the scar, when finally right at the side of his upper thigh you felt it, he bit his lip, not wanting to keep sobbing like a child. 

“Peter, you’re a hero… but you’re human…sadly, there’s not a single thing you could’ve done… we make choices, and I am so sorry the choices all the people around you made that night hurt you this much… but this is not your fault, baby…” You rubbed gently on the scar, and leaned down slowly, placing a feather like kiss on it, making him let out a quiet sob.

“I’m so sorry for everything you’ve lost,” You kissed it again.

“And I promise to always make sure you know that it wasn’t your fault,” You placed another kiss, sitting back up, to look in his eyes. 

“I love you, Peter, and I will always be here to remind you of that” You kissed his lips, sealing your promise, to always love every part of Peter, even the ugliest darkest scars life has left on him.

[shortnspidey]

COLLATERAL HEARTS

Bucky Barnes x Female!Stark!reader

SUMMARY: Bucky Barnes finds himself at the center of a political storm. Haunted by his past as the Winter Soldier, he is pursued by both friends and newfound enemies, unsure of who he can trust. Amidst this turmoil, he encounters someone who approaches him with a genuine sense of empathy. Unlike others who see him as a threat, she sees the person behind the trauma. The internal struggle between his desire for connection and his fear of causing harm adds to the anguish he feels daily, making every interaction a bittersweet reminder of the man he wants to be versus the man he fears he still is.

WARNINGS: Cursing, heavy angst, typical Marvel theme violence, some talks of blood and gore, self-deprecating thoughts, Tony's a shitty father (at the beginning), talks of emotional trauma & anxiety, HYDRA, strangers to friends to lovers, character deaths, trauma bonding, eventual smut!

A/N: Bucky Barnes deserves the world, marvel needs to leave him alone! So here’s my take on his happy ending! Beautiful divider graphics by @sister-lucifer <3

SERIES CHAPTERS:

(Status: Completed)

🦾 chapter one: echoes of the past

🦾 chapter two: lines drawn

🦾 chapter three: fractured bonds

🦾 chapter four: unshackled

🦾 chapter five: sanctuary

🦾 chapter six: grafting hope

🦾 chapter seven: one last stand

🦾 chapter eight: the endgame

BONUS CHAPTERS:

(read in chronological order for the best experience)

🦾 busted

🦾 busy woman

🦾 weight of the shield

🦾 the void

🦾 protector by default

🦾 juno (18+)

[delicatebarness]

You Need Me Now? | Prologue

Summary: Three years after her father's death, the eldest Stark daughter was finally starting to get her life back. But now, everything is about to change when the last man her father would have approved of asks for a favour.

Warning: This series will be 18+, Minors DNI | MCU Spoilers | Mentions of Greif & Parent Death | Alcohol Use | Smut | Political Tension | Subtle PTSD Themes | Friends-With-Benefits Relationship | Secret Relationship

Word Count: 1297

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

A/N: I've been thinking about this since Brave New World, and I'm glad I finally feel like writing here again! - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue; this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

You Need Me Now: @carrotlove | @seenthroughmia | @stell404 | @imaginecrushes | @lilulo-12 | @sebbymybaby21 | @rattyfishrock | @danzer8705 | Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series. However, I can't guarantee how often it'll be updated.

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @lanabuckybarnes

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Spring 2027–Manhattan, N.Y.C.

New York hummed beneath you—somewhat quiet, for once.  From your apartment, the city looked almost peaceful. Rare. But peace was never built for you. Or him.

Bucky’s chest was warm against your back, bare skin pressed together and covered by silk sheets. Your chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. You could hear the soft click of his vibranium arm settling as he raised it, resting it behind his head. 

“You’re thinking too loud,” Bucky murmured, voice gravelly from your shared lack of sleep. Neither of you got any of that when together. 

You turned over, pulling the sheet higher over your chest. Not that there was any modesty left between you. “It’s my apartment. I’m allowed to think as loud as I want.” 

He chuckled. A smile spread over his lips. One of the rare, real smiles. It reached his eyes. “Typical Stark,” he said, his fondness and exasperation blending together in a perfect balance. 

Propping yourself up on an elbow, your eyes scanned his face. Your fingers traced gently along the faint bruising on his collarbone. The tension in his shoulders from a recent fight still lay dormant in his muscles. 

Yet, somehow, he was here. With you. Again.

“I thought you were in D.C.,” you whispered.

“Campaign’s in full swing,” he replied, curling his right arm around you, letting his fingers trail along your neck and shoulder. “But I needed a night away. Somewhere quiet.”

You arched an eyebrow at him. “So naturally, you came to a Stark?”

The ghost of a grin tugged at his lips, leaning up on one elbow to match you. “Well, I wouldn’t say I was here for the quiet, exactly.” 

A low, tired laugh fell from your lips. “Of course not.”

This thing between you started a couple of years ago—the night of your father’s funeral. Too much grief. Too much whiskey. Too much Asgardian mead for Bucky. Years of unresolved tensions, avoidance, and a very complicated history were forgotten about that night. A night neither of you spoke about, but never stopped repeating. 

And no one knew. 

Not Pepper, not Sam, not even F.R.I.D.A.Y.

That was the agreement. No strings. No press. No fallout. But you were never very good at following orders. Even ones you set yourself.

Bucky was quiet at that moment. Then, his fingers moved down, tracing the curve of your arm. Slow and deliberate. “I need something.” 

Your hand stilled on his chest. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you locked your gaze with his. “Let me guess—is this where you say ‘from you’ and ruin the night?”

His expression gave you nothing. “I need your endorsement.” 

Silence.

You sat up, the silk sheet falling from your body. Your back was now turned to him as you reached for the glass of water on your nightstand.

“You’re serious.” 

“I wouldn’t bring it up if I weren’t, Stark.”

“You know what that would mean,” you said with a sigh. “The eldest daughter of Tony Stark publicly backing the Winter Soldier for Congress? The country would lose its mind.” 

“I’m not running as the Winter Soldier,” he retorted. “I’m running as James Barnes. And I’m trying—I’m trying to do something good.” 

“You already are doing something good,” you replied as you finally turned to face him again. “This isn’t a mission. It’s politics, Bucky. If you want my name on your campaign, you’d better be ready for your safe place to no longer be safe.” 

He held your gaze, steady. “I don’t want your name. I want your support.” 

This shouldn’t matter. The two of you weren’t real, not like that. This was supposed to be uncomplicated.

But at some point in time, Bucky had stopped calling before showing up. And you stopped caring.

You sighed, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.” 

“I’m serious.” 

“I know.” 

For a moment longer, you studied him. Then, leaned forward, swinging your leg over his body to straddle his waist. Your lips brushed against his. “I’ll think about it.” 

Bucky’s hand reached for your cheek, pulling you even closer, pressing his lips hard against yours.

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Three Weeks Later—Washington, D.C.

You shouldn’t have worn black. The dress clung to your body—cinched at the waist, sleeveless, and elegant. Pepper had referred to it as ‘Power Dressing’. Bucky, however, muttered, “A distraction,” into your neck the night before.

Now, you were standing at the Stark Industries podium. It was sleek and modern. Unmistakable Stark. Glass and steel glowed with the subtle golden accents. The company’s logo is etched on the front. 

You stood centre-stage. Half the country was watching you. Flanked by banners, journalists, and cameras already trained on you. Your curled fingers gripped tighter around the edge of the podium. 

Your heart hammered against your chest.

Your eyes flickered briefly toward the crowd.

Bucky was standing just to the left of the pavilion. Dressed in a pressed navy suit, hair pulled back neatly. And his jaw set tight. He looked every inch the part of a reformed soldier and future congressman hopeful. He was composed. Polished.

“Thank you all for being here. I’ll try and keep this brief,” you said, your voice steady, smooth. Cameras clicked. Murmurs rippled through the press. “I’ve spent the past few years trying to honor my father and his name.” 

The words rolled off your tongue like you spent hours rehearsing them. You didn’t. Not really. You practiced with Bucky’s head between your thighs, his hands on your hips. Your hands in his hair, and his half-wrecked voice mumbling: “You don’t have to do this. But if you do—I’ll owe you.” against you.

“My father believed in progress. In pushing forward, even when the world pushed back. Since his passing,” your gaze flickered to Pepper, watching with Morgan by her side. She gave you a supportive nod.

You took a breath, continuing. “Stark Industries has grown, shifted, and adapted. Just like the world we call home. But, we’re not done yet.” 

You paused, your eyes now locking with Bucky’s, and your mouth curved. Not into a smile, but something close enough. 

“I believe in redemption, second chances. I believe in making the world better, not just with innovation, but also with integrity. Which is why today, I’m not here to announce a product. I’m here to endorse a person.” 

You let the words hang in the air, taking a moment for yourself. The crowd was quiet, like the hum of an arc reactor. Powerful. 

“A man who has rebuilt himself, little by little. He knows the weight of his history, and carries it anyway.” Your throat tightened, and you let it. “I trust him. Not just with a vote. But with his second chance. With a future. With the city of New York and Brooklyn.” 

Another pause. Only this time, it wasn’t for you. Or the press. Pepper, or Morgan. It was for Bucky. 

Because he needed to hear you. 

“I am proud to be officially endorsing James Buchanan Barnes for Congress.” 

The crowd erupted in front of you. Cameras flashing, journalists shouting questions, Americans surprised. Somewhere, you could already hear someone announcing: “The Iron Princess sides with Reformed Assassin.” 

You didn’t flinch.

No matter how much you loathed being called ‘The Iron Princess’.

Behind the crowd, Bucky’s gaze never left yours. Giving nothing to the cameras. No smile. No smirk. He stayed quiet. 

You hadn’t just given him your name.

You gave him a chance. 

“You know they’re going to twist it all, right? You back me, and they’ll come for you.” More of his words from the previous night echoed in your mind as you watched the public reaction.

You didn’t care then, and you don’t care now.

You chose him.

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Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

Remember, I have a praise kink; I need validation and attention to survive. Please leave feedback. ♡

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Tony Stark’s child

Tony Stark x child!reader

warnings: alcohol ment,

a/n: so i just really think that the concept of tony having the party kid as opposed to nerdy avenger kid would be a really cool idea to explore teehee. most of this does actually take place pre-avengers tho!!

prompt:

you were quite the exhausting kid

“is this really how it felt to raise me?” -tony

many of nights he’d find your bed empty, you’d snuck out to go have your fun as teenagers do

“yeah, boss, i imagine it was” -happy

you always showed back up in one piece (like him) and besides a little slap on the wrist you didn’t get much discipline

actually, it usually went like:

“so, where did you go off to last night?” -tony

“a party” -you

“really? didn’t want to loop me in before you snuck out…again?”

“last time i told you about a party you showed up!”

“uh—yeah, but it’s not like i went all dad on you and dragged you away or anything”

“yeah, you joined the party and offered to buy teenagers more booze”

“hey, they all loved you after that! and they couldn’t get enough of my classic dance moves” -tony, jokingly doing the sprinkler with one arm “but seriously, let me know next time”

“we’ll see about that” -you

^the above conversion went about the same every time

sometimes for entertainment purposes you’d try a little harder, throw a few pillows under the covers to make it look like you were still home to put a smile on tony’s face

“aw, y/n reminds me so much of me” -tony

tony was still partying at this point so you’d flip the script on him from time to time

“you were out late” -you

“what are you, a cop? leave me alone. actually, can you get me some aspirin and water?” -tony

“sure, one or two” -you

“make it three” -tony

he would nurse your occasional hangovers (what a great dad!)

okay, he didn’t always know when you were gone. he was busy a lot of the time with his own business and extracurriculars so you guys did just kinda do your own thing for certain stretches of time

honestly you could be a bit of a klepto in the best of ways

but only to tony and only for fun

“oh, great, where’s my car?” -tony

“which one?” -pepper

“the black one!” -tony

“be more specific” -pepper

“the only one missing from my garage!” -tony

“yeah, i know, just wanted to give you some more time to think about it” -pepper

“i changed the code on the lockbox like, five times this week. did they hotwire it?” -tony

“we are talking about your kid, right? pretty sure they just hacked it” -pepper

“i am…so proud” -tony

you MAY have gotten a few close calls with authorities, but nothing tony couldn’t handle

and up until tony’s accident, the phrase “you’re going to give me a heart attack” was silly and endearing

“you might actually give me a heart attack, y/n, give a guy some warning or just say please for god’s sake” -tony, now comes with an arc reactor in his chest

“sorry” -you

“what—huh—didn’t hear ya, wanna say that a little louder?” -tony, very sarcastically

i tell ya when he got that armor u couldn’t tell if u were gonna flip out at him or invite him to a party

or steal it for…you didn’t even know what

but tony was 3 steps ahead of you when all this came to be

and you weren’t very interested in weapons, still just parties and dumb fun for you

“dad, i dont wanna be a nerd, will you just let me go out?” -you

“come on! just help me in the lab a few hours, what’s it gonna hurt?” -tony

“my social status” -you

“might i remind you you’re a stark? i think you’ll live if you miss one party” -tony

“you’d be surprised” -you

“hey, i almost died! give your old man a break” -tony

once tony got involved with SHIELD and the avengers he got even busier really

and in came the parenting advice from fury, clint, nat, steve

“hey, i don’t see you raising a teenager, back off” -tony

*clint side eye*

steve once tried to give you a good talking to, but you reminded him a great bit of your father with your stubbornness

“you done? i dont think you should be giving out any parenting tips fresh off the ice” -you

tony was kind of proud of you for sticking to your guns

especially around such powerful people

but you had a knack for that and could do it to practically anyone

mostly because you felt like an invincible teenager since you were raised by tony, who also thought himself an invincible teenager at one point

u tried to tone down giving tony grief when he started having panic attacks

since u accidentally caused a few by pushing boundaries and staying out for several nights in a row

cuz as tony gained more enemies, he thought you’d be in more danger

which was true

“happy, you’re y/n’s personal bodyguard” -tony

“no!” -you

“uh, cool? any fun parties planned tonight? i’ll be the designated driver. god knows i’ve been tony’s too many times” -happy

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 // @deanzboyfriend //

[raven-dor]

i can't help but love you

in which pietro maximoff falls for his coworker...

PAIRING: pietro maximoff x fem!reader, tony stark x daughter!reader

WARNINGS: arguing, oblivious nature, more arguing, tension, angst, avoiding, jealousy, fluff ending!!

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

🎶 : war of hearts - ruelle

AN: ♥️💗 - i guess there's no civil war au with this? like everyone lives in the tower and nothing bad ever happened - yippee right?! anyways, enjoy!!

“Maximoff!” 

Y/N Stark’s voice rang clear through the 59th floor of the Avengers Tower, and Wanda laughed as she stalked into the living room. “What has he done now?” 

“Your brother-” The girl was practically fuming. “Has destroyed my project.” 

“Lies.” The speedster stood near the glass doors that led to the landing pad. “She is lying.” 

“Don't.” Y/N hissed, approaching the speedster with murderous intent. “You know what you did.” 

“Please enlighten me as to what I have done.”

“I swear to god, Pietro.” Her voice was ragged, and Wanda frowned. Her friend’s normally witty disposition was nowhere to be seen. “I stayed up all night working on that- it had just started working, and you- you-” 

“What’s going on?” Steve’s voice cut through the tension the pair had so expertly built. They refused to face the Captain, opting to glare at each other menacingly. “Either of you care to explain?” 

Neither moved, as if they were in one of those gun fights in those westerns Clint loved so much. Wanda sighed, giving up on her peace and quiet. “Pietro destroyed Y/N’s project.” 

“I stayed up all night working on it.” Y/N whined, still glaring at Pietro. 

Steve sighed, placing his hands on his hips. Y/N would have teased him for acting like her father in any other circumstance. “Pietro, you can’t keep doing this.” 

“It is not my fault little Stark gets so angry. It was just a little fun.”

“Just a little fun, huh?” Pietro nodded, smirking. “I’m going to-” Y/N’s hand was itching to punch the Sokovian in the stomach.

“I think you need to take a break.” Steve intervened, eyeing her clenched hand with fear. “I’ll deal with him, don’t worry.” 

“He-” She squeezed her eyes shut before nodding sharply. “Fine.” 

Steve waited until she was out of view to address the speedster. “Maximoff.” 

He was still smirking. “Yes, Captain?” 

“The whole ‘bullying the girl because you like her’ routine is getting old. There are easier ways to get her attention.” 

Wanda laughed as her brother’s cheeks grew bright red. “What?” 

“She’ll never forgive you if you keep messing with her projects. They’re important to her, and-” He huffed, placing a hand on Pietro’s shoulder. “Just go easy on her, okay? You know how hard she’s been working.” 

Pietro nodded, cheeks still bright. “Yes, sir.” 

Normally, mission debriefs went smoother.

Keyword, normally. 

Wanda had always noticed this, the tension between the two, but after this particular meeting, it became clear to everyone. She reminded herself to start a betting pool after Steve finished the debrief.

“You can’t be serious, Cap.” 

“I am serious.” Steve sighed. “It makes the most sense. With your expertise and his-”

“Steve…” It seemed Y/N was not below begging. “Anyone but him, please.” 

“That desperate to escape me, Princessa?” Pietro wiggled his eyebrows. “You know you-” 

“Don’t.” She raised her hand, cutting him off. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” 

Tony watched with mild fascination, leaning back in his chair. Natasha leaned over, whispering in his ear. “What’s going on with those two?” 

“I’ll die out there.” Y/N cried. “He doesn’t care about watching my back.” 

“Hold on-” Pietro looked mildly offended. 

“I don’t know what exactly happened between the two of you, but Pietro would never leave you to die.” Steve looked stern. “You know that.” 

Pietro nodded, not that that reassured her in the slightest.

“Fine.” She huffed. “Whatever, just continue, I guess.” 

Steve smiled, looking back at the screen. “Thank you. As I was saying-” 

The rest of the team hadn’t missed the way Pietro stared at Y/N, eyes wide like a kicked puppy’s. And Tony hadn’t missed the way his daughter’s eyes lit up when she ‘glared’ at the Sokovian.

“ETA?”

“Five minutes, tops.” Y/N unplugged the hard drive, stuffing it in her pocket. “Just got the drive.” 

Pietro looked nervously out the door. “Hurry, Princessa.” 

“Stop calling me that.”

“Princessa?” He raised an eyebrow. “Are you not-” 

“Just stop, alright?” 

Pietro nodded. “Fine. Are you finished?” 

She shook the drive that laid in her palm. “I’ve been finished. Thought you were supposed to be up to speed, Quicksilver.” Walking past him and toward the doorway, she almost gasped when his hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her back. “What the hell is your prob-” 

“Do you trust me?” 

She’d been caught off guard by that question, replying before she could even truly think about her answer. “Of course.” 

“What’s taking so long, you two?” Her father’s voice rang over the comms. “Can’t keep the Quinjet here forever.” 

She peeled her eyes away from Pietro’s, staring at the doorway. “Relax, old man.”

Pietro put his hand around her neck, pulling her flush against him. Her cheeks flushed. “What are you doing?”

“Just-” He looked down, smiling lightly. “You said you trust me.” 

She nodded slowly. “Do we need to get your hearing checked?” 

“Don't let go.” 

“Okay.” She tried to ignore the way her stomach flipped when he looked at her. 

The New York skyline was so beautiful in the middle of the night. Her legs dangled over the edge of the balcony as she stared out at the people below. 

“What are you doing awake?” 

She jumped, clutching her chest. “Jesus, Maximoff.” She shook her head. “You can’t just pop out of nowhere like that.”

He laughed. “Did I startle you?” 

“No.” She deadpanned. “That’s why I jumped.” 

“Perhaps you should not sit by the edge then.” 

She rolled her eyes, slapping his arm half-heartedly. “What’s got you up?” 

“I asked you first,” Pietro responded. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine.” She sighed. “Just- can’t sleep, that’s all.” 

“Ah.” A beat of silence fell over them before he spoke again. “When we were younger, and I couldn’t sleep, my mother used to make me a special tea.” He stared at the traffic below, a nostalgic melancholy look on his face. “Wanda makes it for me now.”

“Do you miss your mother?” She whispered. 

“Everyday.” Pietro smiled. “And my father.” 

Y/N nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize.” His mouth went dry, she was staring at him so intensely. “I will make you a cup.” 

“You don’t need to do that, Pietro. Really.”

“It is no trouble.” He stood up, extending his hand. “Come inside.” 

“I’m fine out here.” 

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Because you are shivering.” 

She laughed, taking his hand as he guided her to warmth. “Why are you doing this?”

He tilted his head, releasing his hold on her to fill the kettle. “Doing what, Princessa?” 

“You’re-” She smiled. “You’re being nice.” 

“I do not enjoy upsetting you.” 

She huffed, sitting on the island as Pietro grabbed two mugs. “Could have fooled me.” 

“We are not so different, you and I.” He leaned against the counter across from her, and her eyes fell on his arms, stretching the fabric of his sleeves so beautifully. “I forget what made us this way.” 

“I don’t remember either,” Y/N whispered back. “I just remember you trying to stop my dad from completing Vision.” 

“In my defense-” Pietro laughed. “I thought-” 

“Yes.” She nodded. “I know.” They sat in a comfortable silence, staring at each other. When the kettle hissed, breaking their peace, Pietro turned around, pouring them each a cup. There was something so domestic about this moment, about him helping her fall asleep. If anyone had walked in the kitchen right then and there, she would have denied that any camaraderie had occurred.

She wondered if he would do the same.

He turned back around, and she straightened her posture, all of a sudden insecure about how she looked. He blew carefully, cooling down the tea so she could drink it. “For you.” 

She smiled, taking it gratefully. “Thank you.” He nodded, watching as she took her first sip. Her eyes widened, honestly surprised at the taste. “It’s delicious.” 

He grinned, cheeks growing red. “You are just saying that.” 

“No, really!” She insisted, taking another sip. “It’s delightful, honestly.” 

“I am glad you enjoy it.” His voice was quiet, deep as they realized how closely they were. His head was hung, mere inches away from hers. “Princessa-” 

“I-” She interrupted. “I should go. To bed. I should go to bed.” Setting the mug down, she jumped down from the counter. “Thank you.” 

“Of course.” He nodded. “Anytime.” 

Steve was fuming, which, if you knew the Captain, was extremely rare. The quinjet was silent as their leader pointed out their mistakes, their missed chances. “This was a perfect mission, you two. What happened?”

Y/N sat on the bench, staring at her hands. “We almost-” 

“No excuses.” Steve raised his hand, waiting for an answer. “What happened?” 

“It was my fault, Captain.” 

Steve faltered, looking over at the girl for confirmation. “Is that true?” 

“What are you doing?” She whispered to Pietro. 

The speedster ignored her. “She was hurt.” 

“It was a scratch.” Y/N insisted. “I told him we could keep going.” 

“It was not a scratch.” Pietro hissed. “They shot you.”

“Stop,” Y/N whispered. 

“What?” 

She stared at him, desperate to figure him out. “Stop acting like you care. You wanted to play the hero, and you ruined the mission.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“You heard me.” Y/N’s eyes hardened, ignoring the looks their teammates gave them. “Do you deny it?” 

He nodded. “You are wrong.” 

“Doesn’t seem like I am. You’ve been in this situation before - when Clint got grazed two weeks ago, you kept going.” 

“That was different-” 

“Or when Nat was trapped back into a corner. She told you to go on without her. No hesitation.” 

“Princessa-” 

“When Wanda sprained her ankle, and she told you she could keep going, you listened. What’s so different?” She interrogated. “That you had to ruin everything?”

Pietro looked hurt, angry, and hurt. “I think you know why.” 

“I don’t, actually.”

“Then we have nothing more to talk about.” 

“Fine by me.” She sat back, staring at the wall until they landed. And when they had, she’d been the first one off, stalking toward the training room. 

“He loves you.” 

She scoffed, punching the boxing dummy once more. “How do you know?” 

Tony laughed, crossing his arms. “C’mon, kid. He ruined what should have been a simple mission because you were scratched.” 

“So?” 

“You said it yourself. He didn’t save his sister when she sprained her ankle.” He took a step closer. “He loves you, and you’re scared.” 

“I’m-” Punch. “Not-” Punch. “Scared.” Punch.

“Yeah?” Her father sighed. “You seem scared to me. Classic Stark move, you know. Running from affection.” 

She pushed past him, taking a sip from her water bottle. “You perfected it.” 

“Never said I didn’t.” He shrugged. “Another classic. Deflecting."

"Get to the point."

"Just don’t lose out on this. That kid cares about you, and I’m not going to be around forever-” 

“Dad…” 

“Give him a break.” Tony placed a hand on her shoulder, smiling lightly. “Do it for me, okay?” 

“Fine.”

“And go take a shower.” He laughed. “You stink.” 

They hadn’t talked since the quinjet, since the mission had blown up in flames.

Two weeks had passed since the rest of the Avengers solved the case, since they’d been the only ones left in the tower, since she’d ask Friday if he was in the kitchen, and sneak out of her room when the coast was clear. 

Now, as she sat at the party thrown in honor of the successful mission, she fought the way the hairs on her arms raised as she felt his stare from across the room. 

Instead, she flirted with the bartender. 

Her dress had long flowy sleeves, which was not normally her style, but because of her ‘injury’ she now felt disgusted by the scar. It was off the shoulder and short, short enough to capture someone’s attention. 

“You’re stunning.” The handsome man behind the bar was the perfect distraction. 

Her eyelashes were low, smile mischievous as she responded. “You don’t mean that.” 

“I do.” He nodded. “Plan on being here for long?” 

“That depends.” 

His eyebrow raised. “On what?” 

“When your shift ends.” 

“Y/N.” 

A deep sigh left her, and she quickly smiled at the bartender before spinning in her chair to face him. 

“Maximoff.” 

“Can we talk for a moment?” 

She honestly considered it, ignoring him and going back to the man that eagerly waited behind her. But the look in his eyes and the way her heart twisted under his gaze was enough to convince her. “Quickly.” 

Pietro nodded, following after her. “What is his name?” 

“I don’t think you get to know, since you so rudely interrupted.” She stopped in the hall, the party now a dull roar. “What do you want?” 

“You’ve been avoiding me.” 

“No, I haven’t.”

“Oh?” He frowned. “The computer told me your 'escape' plans.” 

“Friday!” She gasped, looking up. “What the hell?” 

“Mr. Stark made me.” The computer responded, and she silently cursed her father. 

“I've missed you.” 

She raised an eyebrow, forcing herself to act uninterested. “I don’t know why. We’re not friends.” 

“No.” He nodded, his eyes dropping to her lips for a second too long. “We’re not.”

“Well, this has been exactly what I expected.” She clapped her hands. “If you don’t mind, I have to get back to-” 

“He will only hurt you.” He whispered. 

“I don’t care.” She hissed. “He’s a distraction; that’s enough for me.” 

“A distraction?” Pietro looked much too confident. “From what, exactly?”

“From you and your creepy stare.” She lied straight through her teeth. Technically, she wasn't lying. She really was flirting with the bartender to distract herself from the larger issue: her feelings for him. “Following me everywhere. It’s-” Pietro took a step closer, and she choked on her words, swallowing. “You’re-” 

“Yes?” He whispered. “It seems as if you are at a loss for words.” 

“Why can’t we just go back to arguing?” 

“We can argue.” He smiled. “We can do anything you want.” 

“You’ll agree with anything I say, won’t you?” 

Pietro shrugged. “Only one way to find out.” 

“Oh?” He nodded. “Get me a slice from-” A small to-go box laid in her hand before she could even blink. Fighting the smile that threatened to break through her hard exterior, she bit her lip. “I never finished my sentence.”

“Bravo Pizza, Union Square.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “You visit after every mission.”

“You-“ She shook her head, and opened the box, two New York slices inside. “Alright then. I want to sit on the landing pad.”

“Jesus, Pietro.” The New York traffic blared below them, lights flickering like stars in the night sky. She gripped his suit jacket, questioning her stability in these heels. “This is higher than I remember.”

“Princessa.” She hummed, leaning her head against his chest. His finger hooked under her chin, pulling her eyes away from the city. “It is alright.” 

“I didn’t think this through.” 

He laughed, gripping her waist tighter. “You won’t fall, I promise.” 

“Wow.” She whispered. “Even your eyes are silver.” She stared for a moment longer. “They’re captivating.” 

He smiled, pushing a stray hair out of her face. “I am yours to command.” 

“Anything?”

He nodded. “Anything at all.”

“Forgive me.” If he had not been staring at her lips, the wind could have carried her words away.

“Forgive you for what, Princes-” Her lips collided with his, passionately, deeply, pulling him closer, as close as she could. 

His eyes widened before he even registered that she was kissing him, that she was actually kissing him. His hands trailed further up her back, one landing on her waist, and one landing on the side of her face, caressing her cheek. 

“Pietro.” She whispered, pulling away. 

“I was supposed to kiss you.” He laughed, kissing the corner of her mouth gently. “I had a plan.” 

“I suppose…” She smirked, reveling in his touch. “You’ll have to be quicker than that.”

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[kissingchamber]

illicit affairs

𝜗𝜚 synopsis: Tony finds out his son is dating his intern. His intern!

𝜗𝜚 pairing(s): MCU!Peter Parker x Stark!male reader; Tony Stark x son!reader

𝜗𝜚 warning(s): nothing really this is just silly fluff and Tony being clueless

𝜗𝜚 note(s): English is not my first language!!! Based on this request, hope u enjoy anon :3 title from taylor swifts "illicit affairs" !!

Everyone in the Avengers tower knows you and Peter are dating! Well, almost everyone in the Avengers tower knows you and Peter are dating. The only one who hasn't yet figured it out is the one and only, Tony Stark, your dad.

Honestly, it's a surprise he hasn't found out yet with the way you and Peter have been looking at each other with longing heart eyes and cuddling during movie nights. And he calls himself a genius...

It's sort of become a game for you and Peter, seeing how long it'll take for Tony to realize what's really going on.

What makes it even more unbelievable is that Pepper was the first one to know!

─────────────── ⋆ ───────────────

You make your way down to the lab where you knew Peter would be— he'd texted, telling you he would be down in the labs today— working on something for his suit with Tony.

You slide into the lab, finding Peter sat in a chair, eagerly chatting with your dad and typing something on a tablet at the same time.

You come up behind him, wrapping your arms around him, hugging him to your chest and burying your face into his hair. "Hi, Pete." You murmur.

"H— hey!" Peter's face flushes a pretty pink color and you can't help but smirk. He's so easily flustered.

You almost forget Tony is there until he starts talking. "Oh, hey kid! Care to help us a little? We could really use an extra set of hands." He says, acting like the way you're holding Peter is totally platonic.

You nod, mumbling a sure, but not before sending Peter a look. He cannot be serious... He shoots back an agreeing gaze.

─────────────── ⋆ ───────────────

It's movie night, most of the Avengers are scattered across the room, sitting in all kinds of weird positions that make you want to laugh. You and Peter are laying on one of the couches, practically entangled together.

Everyone is arguing about which movie to watch when Tony walks in with Steve trailing behind him, their arms filled with snacks.

Steve looks at you and Peter, mumbling something about lovebirds and takes a seat on one of the recliners.

Tony settles on a loveseat next to Pepper and joins in on the movie debate.

You and Peter share a look, Tony definitely heard what Cap said, right?

─────────────── ⋆ ───────────────

You walk into the kitchen where Peter is sitting on a barstool, leaning onto the island and nodding along to whatever Tony— who is currently refilling his coffee cup— is saying.

You press a kiss to Peter's cheek in greeting, sitting down on another barstool. He gives you a soft smile in response and grabs ahold of your hand.

Tony finishes getting his coffee, ruffles your hair and leaves the room wordlessly, like you hadn't just kissed your boyfriend— that he doesn't know is your boyfriend— right in front of him!

You and Peter stare at each other for a silent second before bursting into laughter. Tony is so clueless it's hilarious.

─────────────── ⋆ ───────────────

When Tony finally does find out it's possibly in the most embarrassing way ever.

You and Peter were in your room, making out on your bed, when Tony walked in.

"Dad—!" You yell and scramble to get off of Peter, whose face is currently the shade of bright red reminiscent of a tomato.

"Sorry, sorry!" Tony says quickly, at least he sounds apologetic.

You glare at him with no real heat in your expression. "You could've, you know, knocked before you came in. Like you're supposed to." You grumble.

"I know, I know. But uhm... since when were you two a thing?" He asks, almost sounding hesitant.

Peter looks like he's trying his hardest not to laugh, barely succeeding. "Everyone else figured it out months ago, if that gives you any idea."

"What—" Tony begins but you interrupt him; "And Pepper was the first one to find out"

"And she didn't tell me!?" He sounds so betrayed, it's so funny you can barely respond. "Apparently not!" You get out before bursting into giggles, Peter laughing beside you.

Tony turns on his heel and rushes into the hallway "Pepper!" He cries out.

At this, you and Peter can't hold it in anymore, erupting into the kind of laughter that makes your tummy hurt and leaves your sides sore afterwards.

And he calls himself a genius.

𝜗𝜚 note: this is longer that anything ive posted previously so thats why this took me so long to post 𖦹 ´ ᯅ ` 𖦹 thanks 4 reading!!! reblogs r super appreciated!! :3

[natty-light-of-my-life]

the genius, billionaire, playboy, philantropist's niece

Summary: Being Tony Stark’s niece, you often found yourself hanging out with the Avengers and had developed a bit of a crush on Natasha when you were a teenager. The two of you joke about it now, but Yelena doesn’t seem to find it all that funny.

Notes: Yes, I gave Tony a brother as a plot device. Canon is merely a suggestion.

Having come from a family of geniuses and engineers, people were surprised to find out that you instead decided to pursue a path in social work. Your father had taken the news so badly, in fact, that he sent you into the city to live with your uncle Tony when you were only fifteen years old. “Come back when you develop more than two brain cells to rub together,” he’d scoffed, convinced that your uncle’s wild, unstable lifestyle would scare you back to the suburbs within the year.

Despite that, not only had you stayed in the city for the rest of the year, you continued through high school, graduating with a diploma from New York City Public Schools just to spite your previous, pretentious, private school upbringing. 

But you gained more than just a different high school experience. Living with your uncle was exciting, if a bit unconventional. Sure, he had turned over a new, superheroic leaf, but those first few years that you spent with him before Iron Man, before the Avengers Initiative, they left an impression on you. You enjoyed sneaking out of your room in Stark Tower and going upstairs to witness the parties that Tony loved to throw. Sometimes, you would be able to sneak a fruity cocktail from an unsuspecting bartender. Sometimes you would meet some really cool people.

You had met Natalie Rushman, now Natasha Romanoff, at one of those events. Oh, she was drop-dead gorgeous, older than you, and you were in the midst of your gay awakening as a freshly seventeen-year-old girl with Stark as your last name. Although you had taken on your uncle’s playboy-ish ways with the girls at school, you had dropped everything and everyone else when you met her. You were smitten at first sight. 

Of course, Natasha only ever saw you as a kid and tolerated you as any undercover agent would do in her position. However, that didn’t deter you. You followed your uncle, and in effect, Natasha, around wherever they went. You sat in front of Tony’s office, with an overpriced cup of coffee to hand to Natasha any morning that you didn’t have to go to school. Coffee that she would accept and immediately hand over to your uncle (it was his credit card that paid for it, so you weren’t too mad about it). You would volunteer to be a waiter at his extravagant parties and spend all night catering to the older woman’s every whim, not that she asked you to do anything except bring her more flutes of champagne. The polite smiles she gave you afterwards lingered with you for weeks at a time.

Tony found it hilarious, especially so when you were told that Natalie, the PA that you were so enamored with, was actually an ex-KGB, could-kill-a-man-with-her-thighs (and not in the fun way), bona fide super spy.

“Sorry,” you had asked, clearing your throat, “was that supposed to make me less attracted to you?” Nat had only rolled her eyes and handed you a stuffed toy rabbit that she had picked up on her most recent mission to god-knows-where.

“A reminder that you are a child and much too vulnerable to be playing with the predators of the world.”

“Aw, Natty,” you had cooed, “giving me gifts now, are ya? I always knew you loved me, deep down.”

Natasha never told you, but you knew that she had, indeed, come to love you. But only platonically. She had made that very clear through the years.

“If you try one more pick-up line on me, baby Stark, I will throw you out this window.”

“You called me baby! And I’ll happily fall for you, babe.”

Then you had gone off to college, and while you thought your heart had been broken, having left New York City without getting together with the Black Widow, you quickly realized that maybe leaving the city was for the best. Eventually, you realized that you were just young and impressionable, that Natasha Romanoff was too hot to ignore, and that was okay. You dated a lot in college, nothing too serious, and finished undergrad with a better understanding of yourself and your sexuality.

Now you were in your second year of grad school. The Avengers had made up after their civil war-sized disagreement, and everything seemed to be smooth sailing right along.

You were studying your notes in the Avenger Compound’s common room when you heard footsteps shuffling in the adjoining hallway. Picking your head up, you noticed the cluster of bodies that approached you: Tony, Steve, Nat, and–

“Hey, kid,” your uncle greeted you, “didn’t know you’d be here this weekend. You get to be one of the first to meet our new stray!” Immediately, this earned an elbow to his ribs, and Tony grunted in pain.

“I am no stray, tin man,” said an unfamiliar, scowling, young woman. She had a conspicuous Eastern European accent and was dressed very fashionably in green courduroy. Stray wisps of her blonde hair fell out of the edges of a fishtail braid. Ah, you thought, another attractive Russian. You were in trouble.

You gave the new arrival a warm smile and introduced yourself.

“Nice to meet you. My name is Yelena,” the woman said, holding out a hand for you to shake. You took it, surprised to feel the countless callouses in her firm grip.

“She’s Natasha’s sister,” chimed Tony. Your head snapped over to the older woman.

“Sister?”

Natasha smirked, obviously amused at your dumbstruck expression, “What, is Clint the only one allowed to have a secret, hidden family?” You looked between the two women, not seeing a physical resemblance, yet found an uncanny likeness in their stances, their air of confidence and–

“You are still holding my hand, dorogoy.”

You blushed and hastily released the other woman’s hand, mumbling an apology.

“No need to apologize, kotenok, I never said I did not enjoy holding the hand of a pretty girl.”

In the coming weeks, you grew ever more enamored with Yelena, much to the rest of the team’s amusement. Even Natasha joined in the ribbing.

“You seem to have a type, baby Stark,” she joked during a quiet moment between the two of you in the kitchen.

“Aw, are you jealous, Natty? Don’t worry, babe, you’ll always have a special place in my heart,” you teased as you rested your chin on her shoulder, wrapping her in a tight hug from behind.

At the sound of a throat being cleared, you flinched and let the redhead go. Yelena was standing in the doorway, holding your phone in her hand.

“Uh, I do not want to interrupt, but your phone keeps beeping and I would like it to stop,” she said, keeping her gaze on her older sister as she spoke to you. Her eyebrows were scrunched adorably, and you thanked her as you checked the class group chat you were in. It was blowing up, and you frowned.

“Shit, our professor just moved up the due date of our paper,” you mumbled, “I hate to skip movie night, but I haven’t even started the draft yet….” The three of you were the only ones in the compound this weekend as the boys and Wanda were all off on a mission. 

“It’s alright,” Natasha reassured, “Yelena and I have been needing some catch-up time anyway.”

You looked at the younger sister, and she nodded, seemingly reluctantly.

“Okay, thanks for understanding,” you said as you ran to grab your coat and bag. “I’ll let you pick the movie next time, Nat! Love ya, bye!” In your rush and panic about your impending assignment being due, you missed seeing Yelena’s scowl deepen. Was there something going on between you and her sister?

Due to your overwhelming and deepening crush on the newest Avenger, you took it upon yourself to be responsible for once and keep your distance. You would just be friends, you insisted to yourself. You made sure to never be alone with Yelena if you could help it, and stuck to Natasha’s side whenever it was just the three of you. 

While your infatuation with Natasha had long since faded, you were still a Stark and Natasha was still fun to flirt with. Over the years, it had become an inside joke between the two of you, and the other Avengers had grown used to you testing your best one-liners on the assassin. 

After a truly awful line you had voiced at a team dinner, Thor had laughed heartily, “I liked that one, little Stark!” He patted your shoulder as he went to serve himself more food, “You are much more charming than your uncle.”

“See,” you pouted, “Thor thinks I’m charming, Nat. Are you charmed?”

Tony scoffed, “Thor’s opinions are dubious at best.”

Natasha shot you a deadpan look, “So charmed, I’m nauseous from your presence.”

“I think that’s just Wanda’s cooking, actually,” you quipped.

Wanda glared at you, “I am a great chef and you know it.” She moved to take your plate away, “If it’s so bad, then starve.”

You clung to your plate and whined, “Nooo I’m sorry, your cooking is great, darling.”

A screeching sound of a fork scraping across a plate had everyone’s head turning to look at the blonde-haired source of the noise. Yelena looked up and scowled at the eyes on her, daring someone to say something. You cocked your head, getting her attention.

‘You okay?’ you mouthed at her. She looked away and huffed out of her nose, chomping down on a forkful of potatoes.

A few weeks later, and despite your best efforts, you found yourself alone with Yelena in the kitchen. The others had left on last-minute official Avenger duties, and Yelena, despite having joined the team months ago, had yet to be introduced to the public as an Avenger. As a result, she wasn’t invited.

You were making yourself a snack in what you thought was comfortable silence when Yelena spoke up.

“Why do you never flirt with me?”

The knife in your hand slipped and embedded itself in the grain of the cutting board, narrowly missing your thumb. You stared wide-eyed at the apple slices in your hand before confusedly turning to the other woman in the room.

 “Do….do you want me to flirt with you?” you asked tentatively. Hope was rising in your chest, suffocating you despite your best efforts to tamp it down.

Yelena looked away, glaring at the apples behind you, “Depends. Do you want to flirt with me?”

You were confused, “I don’t understand, Yelena. Do you…. Are you feeling left out because the team left you behind? Because I promise you those Avenger meetings are really boring and–”

The blonde groaned in exasperation and stood up, marching over to where you were standing. You gulped, mouth going dry, as Yelena came closer. She aggressively and repeatedly poked your chest.

“You ignore me. You never look me in the eye. Yet you cling to my sister like a lost puppy. You call the witch ‘darling’. You video chat with your college friends and laugh with strangers you just met,” Yelena swallowed, her hand coming to a rest on your sternum, “What did I do to make you hate me, instead?”

You let out a staggered sigh, heart beating so hard that you were sure that Yelena could feel its contractions under her palm. “I don’t hate you, Yelena.”

She looked at you, eyes heartbreakingly glazed and threatening to spill over in frustration, “Don’t lie to me, dorogoy. You can hate me, Y/N, but do not dare lie to me.”

You shook your head, reaching up and grasping her hand with both of yours, your heart thump-thump-thumping underneath your entwined fingers. “I don’t hate you, Yelena. I don’t know how to hate you. I wouldn’t want to ever hate you. I ignore you because I don’t know how to act around you. I’ve never flirted with you because you deserve better than that. You deserve something real and wholesome and someone that can treat their partner better than my past situationships would suggest I ever could. I would never lie to you, and I am sorry I ever made you feel lesser than the most absolutely beautiful, deserving person that I’ve come to know.” 

You finally closed your eyes and wrapped Yelena in a hug. She stiffened at first, but before you could release her, she swung her arms around your neck and pulled you in tightly.

When you two finally pulled away, you let out a wet laugh. Yelena tried to discreetly wipe her eyes on your shoulder before letting go.

“You’re wrong, you know.”

You cocked your head, “About what?”

Yelena took your hand in hers, the callouses you were first introduced to all those months ago tracing patterns on your wrist, “That I deserve better than you.” She leaned in and your eyes fluttered as her sweet breath and sweeter words warmed you to your core, “I am messy too, Y/N. And it is I who does not deserve you.”

Your breathing hitched as you started to correct her, but she gently bumped her nose into yours before a word could leave your lips.

“But I am a selfish woman, Y/N,” she whispered, caressing your cheek with the hand that was not holding yours, “and I do not care.”

She stole the stuttered breath that left your lips before kissing you, finally. You would spend forever proving her wrong if you had to, you promised yourself. If she lets you.

And she let you.

---

And scene! Poor Wanda "then starve" Maximoff catching strays lmao. Might give her a fic in the future to make up for it 👀

[violetstark3000]

Floor 23

this is my first fic lmk what you all think!!

pairing: bucky barnes x stark!reader (Y/N) word count: ~4k summary: Y/N Stark was taken by Hydra at nine years old and experimented on — now she's back, powered, confident, and moving into Avengers Tower with a past no one quite understands. She shares a floor with Bucky Barnes, the quiet super soldier who trains her, teases her, and looks at her like she’s more than just a ghost from her father’s past. There’s no angst — just slow burn tension, found family, super speed reveals, rooftop heart-to-hearts, spicy training montages, and one very unforgettable Stark party. warnings: canon-typical violence, spicy content (18+), mentions of past trauma (Hydra), suggestive language, emotional vulnerability, fluff, smut (clearly marked), soft!bucky, strong!Y/N, comfort a/n: this one is for the girlies who love the classic avengers dynamic, protective men with metal arms, and casual girls with quiet strength. this is a no-angst zone <3 timeline: post-Ultron AU, everyone lives, everyone’s hot.

The Avengers had faced world-ending threats. Aliens. Armies. Interdimensional rips in time.

But somehow, nothing had ever shut them up quite like Tony Stark saying the words:

“She’s my daughter.” It wasn’t a punchline.

He stood in the center of the common room, coffee in hand, jaw set just a little too tight.

“She was taken when she was nine. Hydra,” he said. “They used her to get to me. And I didn’t even know.”

The silence in the room was sharp. Uncomfortable.

“I found her six months ago. It took this long to… get her out. Fully. Legally. Safely. And now she’s coming here.”

“To live?” Steve asked gently.

“To stay,” Tony said. “If she wants to.”

Before anyone could process that, the elevator doors chimed.

And then— She stepped in.

Y/N Stark didn’t walk into the room like someone being reintroduced to a world that forgot her. She walked in like she already knew everyone was looking and didn’t mind one bit.

Faded jeans. Converse with ink scribbled on the rubber. A cropped navy hoodie with “Stark Industries” printed in lowercase across the chest. Her duffel was slung over one shoulder, a beat-up set of wireless headphones hanging from her neck.

The first thing she said?

“So this is what happens when you ghost your dad for eleven years. He gets famous, builds a robot army, and moves in with Captain America.”

Sam cracked a smile.

Tony exhaled. “You’re late.”

“I’m not late,” she said, stepping further into the room. “You just started early.”

Then she stopped in front of him, dropped her bag to the floor, and looked him in the eyes.

Tony looked back.

A moment passed.

Then he opened his arms.

“Come here, kid.”

She didn’t hesitate. Not even for a second.

She walked right into him and let his arms close around her shoulders like they’d done this a hundred times before—even though they hadn’t. He held her like he wasn’t sure he’d ever get another chance. She didn’t cry. She didn’t freeze. She just leaned in and rested her chin against his shoulder and said, “You owe me like ten birthdays.”

“I owe you everything,” he muttered back.

When they pulled apart, Tony turned to the rest of the team like he was seeing them for the first time. “Everyone, this is Y/N. She’s funny, smarter than me, probably stronger than me, and knows how to pick a lock with a paperclip. Be nice.”

Thor was the first to approach, all broad shoulders and unshakeable friendliness. “You are much smaller than I expected.”

“And you’re taller,” she replied, “but only vertically.”

Thor blinked. Then let out a booming laugh. “I like her!”

“Same,” said Natasha, giving her an approving once-over. “You talk like him, but less annoying.”

“Give it time.”

Steve smiled, offering his hand. “Welcome to the Tower.”

Y/N took it. “Thanks. It’s a bit cleaner than Hydra’s decor.”

Silence.

She didn’t flinch. “Sorry. Was that too soon?”

“No,” Wanda said softly. “Not too soon. Just honest.”

Y/N gave her a real smile at that.

It wasn’t long before the group fell into easy conversation—Tony explaining her powers vaguely, Sam asking if she could fly (she couldn’t), and Bruce appearing from the lab just long enough to give her an awkward wave and say, “Glad you’re here.”

Only Bucky didn’t say anything.

He stood a little off to the side, arms crossed. Watching.

Y/N met his gaze once. Didn’t look away.

He didn’t either.

Later That Day – Floor 23

Y/N followed her dad through a private elevator with “Stark Access Only” engraved into the panel.

“I built this floor for you a while back,” Tony said, unlocking the door. “Before I even found you again. Just… in case.”

Y/N stepped inside. The suite was wide and open, warm wood floors and oversized windows spilling afternoon light across the couch and bookshelves. One hallway led to a bedroom. Another led to a second door.

“Who’s in there?” she asked.

Tony scratched the back of his neck. “Technically… your neighbor.”

“Technically?”

“You’re sharing the floor with Barnes.”

She turned to face him.

“You’re telling me that after eleven years in a Hydra lab, you’re putting me next door to the Winter Soldier?”

Tony held up both hands. “He’s different now.”

“So am I.”

“That’s why I think it might work.”

She stared at him.

“I’m not saying you have to like him,” Tony added. “But I trust you. And honestly? I think he could use someone who isn’t afraid of him.”

As if summoned by awkward timing, the other suite’s door opened.

Bucky Barnes stepped out. Hoodie. Sweats. Barefoot. He looked like someone who’d just woken up from a nightmare and found out he still had to be awake.

Y/N didn’t move.

Neither did he.

Tony gave them both a quick wave. “Alright. I’m gonna go back to the lab and pretend this isn’t the weirdest thing I’ve ever set up. Play nice, you two.”

The door closed behind him.

Y/N shifted her weight, casual but alert. “So… we’re roommates. That’s hilarious.”

Bucky crossed his arms. “Not roommates. Same floor. Two doors. Big difference.”

“Noted,” she said, stepping past him. “I call the good window.”

He said nothing. Just followed her with his eyes as she hauled her bag toward the bedroom.

When she opened the door and saw the soft lighting, the clean bed, the empty bookshelves—her chest ached in a way she didn’t show.

From behind her, Bucky said quietly, “You need help?”

She turned, eyebrow raised. “With what? Lifting emotional baggage?”

His lips twitched. Just barely.

“I’m good,” she added. “But thanks.”

And she meant it.

Y/N woke up to the muffled hum of the city far below, filtered through the massive windows of her new room. The sunlight spilled softly across the floor, illuminating the little mess she’d made unpacking. Her jeans were draped over a chair, the duffel bag left unzipped near the bed, and a half-empty bottle of water was perched on the nightstand next to an old Stark Industries baseball cap. She was still adjusting to how… normal it felt. That is, until the quiet ping from the intercom reminded her she wasn’t alone here. “Good morning, Miss Stark. JARVIS is online and awaiting instructions.” Y/N grinned, swinging her legs over the bed. “Hey, J. How long have you been waiting?” “Since you last disconnected at approximately 3:42 a.m.” She rolled her eyes. “Night owl, remember? Anyway, bring up my playlist and put on something chill. And maybe order some breakfast? You know, human things.” “As you wish.” For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt like she could breathe. She liked it. Not just the tech, the luxury, or even her dad’s presence. But the quiet acceptance of a place that didn’t feel like a cage. Later that morning, after a breakfast JARVIS insisted was “balanced and Instagram-worthy,” she headed out of her room to explore. She bumped right into Bucky Barnes in the hallway, arms full of random boxes—some labeled “Fragile,” others just scribbled “Y/N’s Stuff.” “You again,” she said, raising an eyebrow. He shrugged. “Thought you might want help.” “Please.” He smirked, setting the boxes down. “I’m kidding. Thought you’d say no.” “I’m good,” she insisted, but he could see through it. The truth was, she didn’t like asking for help. Hydra had taught her independence was survival. But here? She was learning to lower her walls. Together, they moved the boxes into her room, and he stayed long enough to assemble a chair and hook up her gaming console. “Don’t think I won’t destroy you at ‘Street Fighter,’” she warned. He laughed softly, a sound that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m counting on it.” That evening, the team gathered in the common room for their usual downtime. Steve was telling a story about the old days, and Thor was rummaging through the snack cabinet in search of Pop-Tarts. Y/N sat near the edge, quietly observing, when Sam nudged her. “You’re kinda quiet for a Stark.” She smirked. “I’m just… sizing you all up. You’re weird.” “Fair.” Natasha gave a knowing look. “You’ll fit right in.” “Only if I can steal your stuff in the fridge,” Y/N quipped, earning a small smile from Nat. Bucky caught her eye from across the room and raised an eyebrow. She shot back a teasing grin. The comfortable banter was a new feeling for her. Like this strange, found family was exactly where she belonged—even if she wasn’t ready to say it aloud yet.

One afternoon, the Avengers were hanging out on the Tower’s rooftop garden, trying to enjoy a rare break. Steve and Bucky were reminiscing about missions past, Tony was tinkering with a gadget, and Wanda was quietly meditating near the flowers. Y/N leaned against the railing, scrolling on her phone. Suddenly, Steve threw out a challenge. “Alright. Who thinks they’re fast enough to beat me and Barnes in a race?” Bucky smirked. “You’re on, Cap.” Tony looked over from his workbench. “This is gonna be good.” The team quickly gathered at the starting line—a strip of rooftop lined with potted plants and benches. Y/N stood to the side, arms crossed, amused. “Don’t leave her out,” Sam said. “She looks fast.” Steve glanced at her. “You wanna try?” Y/N shrugged with a grin. “Why not? I’m already here.” The countdown started. “Ready?” “Set?” “Go!” Before anyone could blink, Y/N was gone. A blur of movement that left Steve and Bucky staring, mouths slightly open. She was halfway to the finish line before Steve and Bucky had even taken their first strides. “Is she—?” “Faster.” Y/N crossed the finish line, slowing to a casual walk as if she’d just taken a stroll. Tony whooped from the sidelines. “That’s my kid!” Steve and Bucky trailed behind, breathing hard, eyes wide. “I didn’t see that coming,” Steve admitted, shaking his head. Bucky wiped his brow. “Yeah… she’s faster than either of us.” Y/N grinned, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “You guys okay back there?” Sam laughed. “You just beat two supersoldiers like they were standing still.” Y/N shrugged. “Guess I’m not just a Stark.” Wanda approached, impressed. “That was incredible.” Y/N shrugged again, but the smile was soft. No one knew the full extent of her powers yet. But maybe, just maybe, they were starting to. Y/N was starting to realize that living in Avengers Tower wasn’t nearly as chaotic as she expected. Or maybe she was just getting used to the chaos.

Her mornings were still slow, with JARVIS gently nudging her awake by dimming the lights and playing her favorite soft tracks. The AI had developed a knack for reading her moods—if she was cranky, JARVIS lowered the volume; if she was restless, he’d suggest a walk on the roof.

“Hey, J,” she said one afternoon as she sat cross-legged on her bed, scrolling through mission reports on her tablet. “You ever get tired of being perfect?”

“I do not experience fatigue in the human sense,” JARVIS replied smoothly. “But I do enjoy your sarcasm. It keeps things interesting.”

Y/N smiled. “Well, don’t get used to it.”

Later that day, she found herself wandering into the common room just as Bucky was finishing up his morning workout. He looked up, hair damp and muscles still moving from exertion.

“Hey,” she greeted, dropping onto the couch a little too casually.

He gave a tired smile. “Hey.”

For a moment, neither said anything. Then Y/N reached into her bag and pulled out a half-eaten granola bar.

“Want half?” she offered.

Bucky raised an eyebrow but didn’t refuse. “Sure.”

They shared the bar in comfortable silence.

“You don’t talk much,” Y/N observed.

“Depends on the day.”

She nodded. “Me too. Hydra taught me a lot about silence.”

“Yeah?”

“Sometimes it’s the only thing that keeps you alive.”

Bucky looked at her then, really looked. “You’re different than I thought.”

“Different good or different bad?”

He smiled, small and genuine. “Different good.”

That night, she joined the group in the kitchen. Wanda and Natasha were debating the merits of spicy food versus comfort food.

“Natasha can’t cook,” Wanda said, rolling her eyes.

“She burns water,” Natasha shot back.

Y/N laughed. “Sounds like you’re in good company.”

Wanda looked over at Y/N. “You’re fitting in fast.”

“Only because I’m sneaky,” Y/N teased. “And because you guys are actually decent.”

Tony popped his head in, holding a tray of cookies.

“Try these. I’m taking credit for all of them.”

Y/N took a bite. “Not bad, old man.”

The warmth of the kitchen, the laughter, the mess—it was the first time in a long time Y/N felt like she could be herself without armor.

Later, she caught Bucky in the hallway.

“Training again?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “You wanna join?”

Y/N smirked. “You trying to show off?”

“Maybe.”

“Challenge accepted.”

As they moved to the training room, Y/N felt something shift. She wasn’t just Tony Stark’s daughter anymore. She was Y/N. Stronger. Ready.

Tony Stark throwing a party was a bit like a fireworks display — bright, loud, and impossible to ignore. And when the occasion was his daughter finally stepping back into the world he’d built, well, you knew the Tower would be overflowing with Avengers, allies, and anyone with a good excuse to sneak in. Y/N stepped out of her room on Floor 23, already wondering if she could survive a night surrounded by Tony’s “friends” — people she mostly knew by reputation or by what her father had described in rushed phone calls that were more apologies than explanations. The music was loud, the kind of pulsing, electric mix that made the floor vibrate under her boots. She felt a familiar zing of nerves but also a strange warmth, like maybe this was the kind of chaos she could get used to. Tony was in full dad mode, wearing sunglasses indoors, holding a drink, and running around making sure everyone had what they needed. “Y/N!” he called from the kitchen. “You made it. Come meet the important people who matter.” She smirked. “You mean the people who kept your tech from self-destructing?” He laughed, waving her over. The crowd was a mix of familiar faces and new ones. Steve was charming someone near the buffet, Thor was explaining something about Pop-Tarts to an increasingly confused Sam, and Natasha was… well, Natasha was leaning against the wall, looking unimpressed but secretly enjoying herself. Bucky stood near the edge of the room, arms crossed, eyes on Y/N like she was a flame he couldn’t quite look away from. Y/N caught his gaze and gave a small, playful raise of her eyebrow. Tony nudged her. “Go on. Say hi.” She stepped forward and bumped into Sam, who grinned. “Hey, Y/N. Heard about your superspeed.” Y/N shrugged. “It’s a good party trick.” Thor suddenly approached, holding a plate stacked high with Pop-Tarts. “You must try. They are delicious.” Y/N took one, bit it, and made a face. “Too sweet. I’m more of a black coffee and sarcasm kind of girl.” The night rolled on in a haze of laughter and storytelling. Y/N found herself drawn to the quieter corners, and somehow that always seemed to lead back to Bucky. Finally, the music shifted. A slow, steady beat filled the room. Tony clapped his hands. “Alright, everyone! Dance time. And yes, Y/N, you have to dance. No excuses.” Bucky’s eyes found Y/N again. He took a step forward. Y/N smirked but didn’t move away. “Dance with me?” he asked quietly. The room seemed to blur. She nodded. They moved to the center of the floor, the noise fading into the background. Bucky’s hand found hers — steady, sure. Y/N let herself relax against him. For the first time since she arrived, she wasn’t the daughter of a genius billionaire. She was just Y/N. And Bucky? He was more than the Winter Soldier. He was something soft and real. The music slowed, and so did their breathing. No words needed. Just the quiet certainty of a dance, a glance, and the start of something new. The party had settled into a hum of laughter and scattered conversations when Y/N found herself standing in front of Bucky’s door.

She hesitated for a heartbeat.

Then knocked.

Bucky opened it, his usual guarded expression softening the moment she stepped inside.

The room was dimly lit, personal, with photos pinned to the wall and a guitar resting in the corner.

Y/N glanced around and then up at him.

“Nice place,” she said, kicking off her boots.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “It’s home.”

They settled onto the couch, not quite touching but close enough that silence felt natural.

“I’m glad you asked me to dance,” Y/N said after a moment.

Bucky’s eyes met hers. “Me too.”

They talked—slow, easy conversation about things neither usually said out loud.

Her voice softened when she spoke about Hydra, about being gone for so long.

He shared quiet stories about his past, about finding purpose again.

No pressure. No grand declarations. Just two people finally letting their walls down.

When Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder, Bucky didn’t pull away.

For once, the night was theirs. Then he kissed her like he’d been waiting — like every missed glance, every sparring match, every smirk had been building to this. She kissed back like she’d been searching for something and just found it. There was no hesitation anymore.

His hands slid slowly, reverently, around her waist, drawing her in until she could feel his heartbeat against her own. Her fingers found the edges of his shirt, tugging it upward, and he let her. Their mouths never left each other as the fabric disappeared piece by piece. Her hands roamed over his chest, feeling the heat of him, the scar tissue, the muscle — and he let out a quiet groan against her neck that made her heart stutter.

She whispered his name and he froze, forehead pressed to hers. “Tell me to stop,” he rasped, voice strained.

“I won’t,” she breathed. “Don’t even think about it.”

And that was all it took. He kissed her again, harder this time, walking her back until she hit the mattress and fell into it with a soft thud. He followed, his body blanketing hers with warmth and tension and need. Every movement was deliberate, every touch a conversation. There was a tenderness in the way he peeled away her layers, kissing the skin he uncovered, trailing his lips along her collarbone, her shoulder, her chest — and when her shirt was gone, he just stared for a second, eyes soft and hungry all at once.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, barely a whisper.

She pulled him down by the necklace at his throat. “Then do something about it.”

They moved together like it had always been inevitable — months of tension unraveling all at once. He took his time, mapping her body with hands that had only known violence and now wanted to memorize softness. She arched into him, breath hitching, head thrown back, and the way he looked at her made her feel like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

When he finally pushed into her, slow and deep, she gasped his name. He kissed her temple, her jaw, her lips — every part of her he could reach — while they found a rhythm that felt like coming home. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t clumsy. It was honest, raw, and overwhelming in the best way. Her nails dragged across his back, his grip tightened on her thigh, and their bodies moved like they’d done this a hundred times in dreams.

And when she came undone beneath him, head buried in his shoulder, he wasn’t far behind, whispering her name like a prayer.

They lay tangled in the sheets afterward, chests heaving, slick with sweat and barely touching because it was too much and not enough.

He pulled her against him, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You okay?”

She looked up, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. “More than okay. You?”

He smiled — a real one, rare and warm. “Yeah. You ruined me.”

She laughed softly, burying her face in his chest. “Good.”

The next morning, the training room buzzed with energy.

Y/N was already warming up when Bucky walked in, a determined look on his face.

“Ready to get your ass kicked?” he teased.

“Oh, you’re on,” Y/N replied with a grin.

What followed was an intense, breathless hour of drills, sparring, and sprinting.

Bucky was relentless, pushing her to her limits.

Y/N matched him move for move, her powers giving her an edge, but Bucky’s experience kept her honest.

They laughed through the exhaustion, exchanged sharp jabs of sarcasm, and shared those fleeting glances that meant more than words.

At one point, Y/N surprised him by pulling off a move he hadn’t seen coming.

He shook his head, impressed. “Okay, Stark. You’re full of surprises.”

She smirked, wiping sweat from her brow. “You have no idea.”

By the end, they were both dripping, breathless, but the atmosphere was electric.

They’d tested boundaries—not just physical, but emotional.

And neither wanted to stop.

In the days that followed, Y/N’s presence became a new constant.

She joined Natasha and Wanda for late-night strategy talks, offering sharp insights and a steady voice.

With Steve and Sam, she ran drills and shared stories from her years in hiding, slowly earning their respect.

Tony hovered in the background, proud but trying not to smother.

JARVIS was her unofficial partner in crime, managing everything from playlist curation to subtle tech pranks.

Bucky found himself often at her side, whether it was cooking disasters in the kitchen (courtesy of Natasha’s famous inability to cook) or quiet walks on the rooftop.

During one particular evening, Y/N and Bucky caught Thor debating the merits of Pop-Tarts versus pancakes in the dining hall.

“Pancakes are fluffier,” Y/N argued, crossing her arms.

“But Pop-Tarts are eternal,” Thor insisted, brandishing a tart like a weapon.

Bucky chuckled. “I’ll take the fluff, thanks.”

The team laughed together, sharing moments that weren’t about missions or powers but about being a family.

Y/N realized that even after everything she’d been through, this—these people—were her home now.

[godjustkys]

Hii can I request stark!male reader x daenerys targaryen? With breeding kink and reader being utterly in love with her XD

SYNOPSIS: you’d do anything to show daenerys how much you love her.

CHARACTER: stark!male reader x daenerys targaryen

NOTE: my gorgeous girl. she’s so AHDIAGDKWKD

WC: 1,0k

WARNING: INTENSE breeding kink,, praise,, light worship,, p in v,, unprotected sex,, oral (f receiving),, deep penetration,, mild overstimulation,, multiple rounds,, dirty talk,, intense emotional attachment (LOL),, pet names,, possessive!reader,,

the flap of the queen’s tent falls shut behind you, and with it, the world outside vanishes — no unsullied, no dothraki, not even her dragons. only her.

daenerys targaryen.

she stands barefoot on a thick myrish rug, wearing nothing but a sheer shift that does little to hide the curves beneath. her silver hair spills loose over her shoulders like molten moonlight, and her golden eyes pin you in place.

“you’re staring again, wolf,” she murmurs, voice low and amused. “do all northern men look at their queens like starving beasts?”

“only when their queen looks like you,” you say hoarsely.

you step closer, your boots silent on the rug, and daenerys doesn’t move away. instead, she tilts her chin up, a soft, knowing smile tugging at her lips. “and if i told you to crawl to me?” she asks. “would the proud son of winterfell obey?” your answer is to sink to your knees without hesitation, the cold pride of your house melting away as heat coils low in your belly. “i’d crawl through fire if you asked it,” you say, your voice rough. “i’d burn. i’d bleed. i’d let the whole world see me beg for you.” that earns you a small, approving hum.

“a wolf, tamed by a dragon,” she muses, threading her fingers into your hair. “perhaps i should keep you on your knees.”

“perhaps you should,” you agree, pressing a kiss to her thigh through the thin fabric of her shift. “but let me worship you properly first.”

—————

your hands glide up her legs as you push the shift higher, baring inch after inch of smooth, pale skin. she’s already wet — you can smell her, sweet and intoxicating — and the sight of her bare folds makes your mouth water.

“look at you,” you murmur, kissing the crease of her hip as you spread her legs wider. “dripping for me already. did you think about this today? about me putting my tongue here?”

“yes,” she admits with a sharp intake of breath as you run your tongue up her slit in one slow, deliberate stroke. “gods, yes. i thought of nothing else.”

“good.”

you lap at her slowly at first, savoring the taste of her, letting her feel every flick and curl of your tongue. her fingers tighten in your hair as you suck gently on her clit, earning a soft whimper.

“seven hells,” she gasps, hips jerking. “you’re… better than anyone i’ve ever known.”

“because i love you,” you murmur against her slick folds. “because i want to ruin you for any other man. i want you so swollen with my seed you can’t even think of anyone else.” her moan at those words sends a spike of heat straight to your cock. “you want to breed me, wolf?” she taunts, though her voice is already breaking. “you want to see the last dragon round and full of your pups?”

“yes,” you snarl, sucking harder on her clit. “gods, yes. i’ll fuck you every night until it takes. until everyone can see you’re mine.” her thighs tremble around your head as you slide two fingers into her tight heat, curling them perfectly as your tongue works faster. “then do it,” she pants, her voice high and breathless. “breed me, stark. give me your heirs.” her walls flutter around your fingers as her climax rips through her, her cry sharp and beautiful as she gushes into your mouth. you drink her down greedily, not stopping until she’s whimpering and tugging you up by your hair.

—————

you don’t give her a moment to recover.

daenerys lies back on the bed, her silver hair spread like a halo on the dark silk sheets. you crawl over her, kissing your way up her body — her thighs, her belly, her breasts — before claiming her mouth in a hungry, possessive kiss. “gods, i need you,” you growl against her lips. “i can’t wait any longer.”

“then don’t,” she whispers. “take me, wolf.”

you guide your cock to her entrance and push in slowly, groaning as her tight heat swallows you inch by inch.

“seven hells,” you pant, burying yourself to the hilt. “you’re perfect. so fucking perfect.”

“move,” she demands, her nails raking down your back. “i want to feel you fill me.” you set a brutal pace, hips snapping against hers with wet, obscene sounds as the head of your cock kisses her cervix again and again. “you feel that?” you snarl, leaning down to bite at her throat. “that’s me— claiming you. filling you. no man will ever fuck you like this.”

“no one else,” she gasps, her voice breaking. “only you, my wolf. only you.”

“you’re mine,” you growl. “say it.”

“i’m yours,” she cries, her legs locking around your waist. “yours to love. yours to breed. yours to do with as you please.” the words tip you over the edge. you thrust deep one final time and spill hot inside her, pulse after pulse of thick seed flooding her womb.

—————

you don’t stop.

even as you soften slightly, you stay buried in her, grinding your hips to keep your cum deep inside.

“you’ll be carrying my child,” you whisper, almost in awe, as you press your hand flat to her belly. “i’ll keep you full until you are.”

“then don’t stop,” she says wickedly, her golden eyes dark with lust. “breed me again, wolf. i can take it.” and you do — again and again, until her voice is hoarse from screaming your name, until her inner thighs are sticky with your seed, until all either of you can think about is the thought of her womb cradling your child.

when you finally collapse beside her, spent and shaking, you pull her close, pressing your lips to her temple.

“i’ll love you until my last breath,” you murmur. “and even then, i’ll find you in whatever comes after.” she smiles softly, stroking your jaw with a trembling hand.

“then fill me one more time, wolf,” she whispers. “for good measure.”

[oneofstarkskids]

you never lost me

kate bishop x stark!reader

genre: angsty fluff

notes: she/her pronouns are used! WLW

summary: moving on is hard. it's even harder when you have to take up the mantle your father left behind. it's a decision you didn't want to make, but kate bishop is nothing if not relentless.

you were minding your own business, walking through the parking garage of your apartment when you heard a strange clatter.

on edge, you searched for the origin of the noise.

you found nothing, but as you turned back around to keep going, you were met with those familiar blue eyes and jet black hair.

you paused for a moment, shocked and mildly annoyed. "i already told you, i don't want to join your super secret boy band."

"young avengers," kate corrected.

you crossed your arms defensively and glared at her.

"and i think if you would just hear me out-" she started.

"no, kate. you hear me out. i lost... everything. i lost my dad. and the only people i ever considered family are dead or god knows where," you tried to swallow your pain. push it down so that she couldn't see it.

she shook her head, "you didn't lose everything." she tried to take your hand in hers but you tugged it away before clearing your throat and blinking back tears.

you stared at the ground to avoid the pathetically disappointed look in her eyes.

"i'm not a hero, kate," you say barely loud enough for her to hear. "and i'm definitely not iron man."

kate doesn't know what to say. she watches as you brush past her and make your way to the elevator. she sighs, knowing she's going to have to group up with the others and give them the bad news.

"you said she'd listen to you!" kamala protests.

"well, i was wrong, okay." kate replays the conversation in the back of her mind.

america takes another slice of pizza, nearly devouring it whole. "and there's nobody else?" she asks, mouth full.

"nobody like her," kate answers.

cassie finally speaks up, "well, maybe someone else should try. maybe there's just too much...history...between you two."

kate glares at her, but billy backs cassie up, "just wait a minute, she might be right. i mean, if you two dated-"

"we never dated," kate shot back.

billy didn't believe her, "well whatever you want to call it. maybe she just doesn't want to talk to you about it."

kate scoffed, "wow guys. why am even trying to explain this to you. you're literally children."

"i'm eighteen," cassie says.

kate makes a face, "that's like the same thing. you still have "teen" in your age."

"no it's not!" cassie says in defense, leading the whole table into another pointless argument.

but in the midst of their bickering, kate's phone buzzed against the table.

"who is it?" billy asked.

kamala chimed in, "is it her?"

"pick it up!" cassie said.

kate shushed them all, reaching for her phone. sure enough your name, and the cutest photo of you that she never had the courage to change, lit up on the screen.

she froze, the pain of her past leaving a stabbing pain in her chest.

kamala impatiently swiped the phone from her shaking hand and answered, "hello?"

"hey!" kate whispered in annoyance.

"who is this?" you asked on the other end, knowing kate's voice like the back of your hand. paranoia ran through you like a cold chill.

"well, my superhero name is ms. marvel, but you can call me kamala. i'm kind of like the leader of the young avengers," she spoke confidently.

billy scrunched his face up in confusion.

"uh, actually-" kate tried to intervene.

"leader? you sound twelve," you responded.

"well that's just rude. i'm sixteen, not twelve. and did your parents teach you any manners?," she shot back.

you spoke again without thinking, "my parents are dead."

kamala went silent for a moment.

the rest of the table was giving her urgent looks, trying to figure out what was happening on the other end of the phone.

"well, you'll fit right in! billy's pretty sure both his parents are dead. kate's dad is dead, and peter's entire family is dead," she tried to reassure you.

kate facepalmed, already envisioning the look on your face.

"you're going to join, right?" kamala asked enthusiastically.

you took a deep breath in, "can i speak to kate?"

kamala's hope deflated a bit, but she passed the phone anyway.

kate looked down at the phone nervously before bringing it up to her ear, "hello?"

"kamala's a character," you joked lightly.

kate let out something that was partially a scoff and partially a laugh, "they all are. you have no idea."

"i wanna be on the team," you said quietly.

she almost wondered if she heard you right, "you do?"

"i talked to peter for the first time since...the funeral," you said, voice cracking a bit.

you tried to hold back the wave of emotions that threatened to drown you, "he's right. i've been running away from things. kate, i even ran away from you. and i'm so sorry," you tried to stifle your sniffling, but she could tell you were crying anyway.

you hated this. this was not the kind of conversation you had on the phone, but here you were nonetheless.

kate stood up from the table, walking away to get some privacy. the team understood.

"it's okay, i messed up too," she tried to take blame, but you wouldn't let her.

you shook your head, not that she could see, "no. it's my fault. i ruined what we had. because i'm so afraid."

"i was so afraid of losing you. and i pushed you away. and it happened anyway," you said through your tears.

kate's own eyes glistened as she spoke, clutching the phone to her face like it was your hand there instead, "you never lost me."

[ericshoney]

Stark's Wit~ Tony Stark

Summary: You're not the best at hand-to-hand combat, but your the second best Stark with sarcastic responses.

Warnings: Platonic nicknames, possible swearing, sarcastic humour.

Reader's Age: 18

The biting wind whipped around Y/n as she stood on the training platform, a scowl etched on her face. Sparring with super soldiers in January was not her idea of a fun Friday afternoon. Especially when all she had to defend herself was the Stark family arsenal of sarcasm.

“Alright, kid, you ready?” Steve, radiating earnest encouragement, adjusted his gloves. Beside him, Bucky simply stared, his metal arm gleaming dully in the overcast light. Sam hovered behind them, a wry grin on his face. He knew how this usually went.

"Born ready, Captain Rogers," Y/n quipped, her voice dripping with irony. "Just try not to break anything too important. Dad would have a conniption if his precious lab assistant came back in pieces."

Steve winced. He still wasn't entirely used to Y/n's… bluntness. "We'll be careful, Y/n. This is just for practice."

"Practice for what? The Super Soldier Olympics?" She rolled her eyes. "Last time I checked, my skill set leaned more towards coding and caffeine addiction, not hand-to-hand combat."

Bucky finally spoke, his voice gruff. "Everyone needs to know how to defend themselves, Stark. Especially with your… family history."

That hit a little too close to home. Y/n tightened her jaw. "Right, because I specifically asked to be born into a world of interdimensional travel, rogue AI, and sentient purple grapefruits. My bad."

Steve sighed and stepped forward. "Alright, enough talking. Let's see what you've got."

The next few minutes were, to put it mildly, humiliating. Steve, ever the gentleman, pulled his punches, but even he couldn't help but land a few glancing blows. Bucky, predictably, was less restrained. His metal arm was like a battering ram, and Y/n found herself mostly dodging and weaving, her reflexes surprisingly sharp despite her lack of formal training.

"Having fun yet?" Sam called out, leaning against the railing.

"Oh, I'm having a ball, Sam," Y/n gasped, narrowly avoiding Bucky's fist. "This is exactly how I pictured spending my Friday: getting pummeled by a century-old assassin. Living the dream, really."

She managed to duck under Steve’s arm and deliver a swift kick to his shin. It wasn’t exactly a knockout blow, but it was enough to make him stumble.

"Not bad, Y/n," Steve said, rubbing his leg. "You're getting faster."

"Years of dodging Dad's bad science puns have honed my reflexes," she retorted, then spun to face Bucky, who was advancing with a predatory gleam in his eye. "Alright, Tin Man, let's dance!"

Bucky lunged. This time, Y/n tried a different tactic. As he swung his metal arm, she sidestepped and grabbed a handful of his long hair, yanking him off balance.

"Whoa! Hey!" Bucky sputtered, momentarily disoriented.

"Sorry, Barnes! Didn't know you were so sensitive about your 'vintage chic' hairstyle," Y/n said, releasing him and darting away.

Sam burst out laughing. Even Steve cracked a smile. Bucky, however, wasn't amused. He charged again, his movements less precise, fueled by irritation.

Y/n knew she couldn't keep this up forever. She was already winded, and her sarcasm reserves were starting to run dry. As Bucky cornered her near the edge of the platform, she knew she was out of options.

"Okay, okay, I surrender!" she yelled, throwing her hands up in the air. "Uncle! Mercy! I admit defeat! You win, metal arm! You’re the best at… uh… arming metal-ly! Yeah, that’s the one.”

Bucky stopped, his expression a mixture of annoyance and begrudging amusement. “You’re impossible, Stark.”

“That’s what my therapist keeps telling me,” Y/n said, panting. She collapsed onto a nearby bench, gathering her breath.

Steve clapped her on the shoulder. "You did well, Y/n. You're quick, and you think on your feet. You just need to work on your… offensive capabilities."

"My offense is impeccable," Y/n said, gesturing to Bucky. "Just ask him. I practically incapacitated him with my devastating wit."

Sam snorted. "Yeah, well, wit doesn't exactly stop a bullet."

"True," Y/n conceded. "But it can annoy someone enough that they forget what they were going to do in the first place. That's a defense mechanism in itself, right?"

She looked up at their faces, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes. They were her dad’s friends, family even. And despite the inherent strangeness of having super soldiers trying to turn her into a miniature Avenger, she knew they cared.

Steve, ever the optimist, gave her a reassuring smile. "It's a start, Y/n. We'll keep working on it."

"Great," Y/n said, her sarcasm returning full force. "Just promise me one thing: next time, can we at least do this in a heated environment? And maybe with a pizza? I'm pretty sure I can weaponize pepperoni."

Bucky rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Even he had to admit, Y/n Stark, with her sharp tongue and Stark-brand stubbornness, was growing on him. Even if she did almost pull his hair out. He smirked, “I’d pay to see that.”

As the three men began to pack up, Y/n pulled out her phone. Time to order that pizza. And maybe send Dad a text. Something along the lines of: 'Almost got murdered by Bucky today. Send backup (and maybe a new shield design. Sarcasm-proof, preferably).

Tags:

@parkjihoonsnudes @riowritesitall @mandmilovehim @onelesslonelygirlbieber6 @lgbtq-girl

Dividers by: @issysh3ll