#tony stark
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iron fam we are so back đ
#enthyrea art#ironheart#riri williams#tony stark#iron man#iron heart#tony and riri#riri williams and tony stark#mcu iron man#mcu ironheart#mcu riri williams#mcu#marvel#marvel fanart
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give me recs like this đđ»
when i finally find a fic thats so accurate i re-read it every chance i get

#5sos#1D#spencer reid#dean winchester#tony stark#bucky barnes#peter parker#agents of shield#miraculous ladybug#bts#literally any of these fandoms#i beg#my asks are open
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This is how the first Avengers went, right?
#ashedwings post#ashedwings art#MCU#marvel#marvel mcu#marvel movies#the avengers#mcu avengers#Tony stark#steve rogers#bruce banner#thor odinson#natasha romanoff#clint barton#mcu tony stark#mcu steve rogers#mcu bruce banner#mcu thor#mcu natasha romanoff#mcu clint barton#mcu iron man#mcu captain america#mcu hulk#mcu black widow#mcu hawkeye#shitpost
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my piece for @transistorpoweredheart-zine ! this was very very fun, old-timey vol 1 tony my most beloved
#untrue. tales of suspense is my most beloved but we can have 2 favourites#mine#tony stark#iron man#etc#Q
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deep in the trenches again.. so defeated my artblock with a tony
#marvel#mcu#tony stark#aimeeart#fanart#it's been Weeks since i last drew something and this cured something in me#i've been deep in the trenches again recently#i havent drawn tony since 2018 though#ough#can you tell i was using a civil war ref#one day ill post art here properly but i like to keep all my fanart in one place regardless
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yo yo yo big toe
whatâs poppin
tony "I spend ten thousand dollars on peanuts" stark and his mentee peter "I have exactly twelve cents and a dream" parker during any interaction at all is just
tony : "you good, kid? you got here later than you normally do."
peter : "sorry mr. stark, I had to take the subway today after school."
tony : "the subway takes that long to get here? could've sworn it was a 15-minute ride at most."
peter : "well, I was down two dollars for the ticket, so I had to ask a few people for some money. I ended up spending twenty minutes asking people for quarters like a crazy person, super embarrassing. oh!âand then I was really hungry. like, so hungry I was probably gonna faint if I kept swinging, so I stopped by mcdonalds but I still didn't have any money so I just had to pretend it was my birthday and take the free mcflurry."
tony : "you do know I could've just sent you money, right"
peter : "yeah but that's cheating"
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Avengers: Endgame (2019) dir. Anthony Russo, Joe Russo
#endgame#tony stark#steve rogers#film#gifs*#by harley#avengers endgame#mcu#mcuedit#marvel#marveledit#marvelgifs#filmedit#filmgifs#usermovies#dailymarvelkings#dailymarvelgifs#filmtvcentral#dailyflicks
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idk why emh!tony looks like he uses eyeliner or something, I'm not complaining
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Tony:Â Can I have your number?
Natasha, visibly texting:Â I don't have a phone.
#source: unknown#tony stark incorrect quotes#tony stark#iron man#natasha romanoff incorrect quotes#natasha romanoff#black widow#marvel incorrect quotes#marvel#avengers#avengers incorrect quotes
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The Avengers 2012 era was the best time ever in the fandom
Thor loves pop tarts, Clint lived in the vents, Bruce and Tony did science together, Steve was the mom friend of the team and did art in his free time, Natasha was cool aunt of the team, Loki was there too and a bunch of other characters like Peter, Sam, Bucky, Vision and Wanda all lived in the Avengers tower together
It was a much simpler time where everyone in the fandom was chill and having fun together
#loki laufeyson#loki odinson#thor odinson#wanda maximoff#peter parker#vision#tony stark#bruce banner#natasha romanoff#steve rogers#clint barton#sam wilson#bucky barnes#the avengers#avengers family#domestic avengers#marvel
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Too Late | Part 2 | ÙÙïź©ÙšÙ Bucky Barnes
Pairing: Yearning Protective!Bucky x Injured!Reader
Summary: Bucky refuses to leave your side. Grief, regret, and what-if's consume him. All he can think about- all he can want, is for you to wake up.
Word Count: 4.2k
Tags: Yearning, secret affection, physical touch, panic attacks, bucky being a sweetheart. Protective Bucky Barnes. Mention of violence. Serious injury.
18+ blog, Minors Do Not Interact.
Authors Note: Sad sad boy. If you want to be apart of the taglist, let me know :)
Masterlist
âCan I come in?â Steve's voice is quiet from the door frame.
Buckyâs stomach curls bitterly, his gaze stuck on your still form. âNot my choice.â He mutters, his lips pressed to his scarred knuckles.Â
Thereâs a sigh, then the sound of footsteps against tile. âI just wanted to check inâŠâÂ
âYou think sheâs made a miraculous recovery?â Bucky tries to stifle the venom in his tone, but it bleeds through his clenched teeth. The resentment is too potent to staunch. Too painful.
âI just wanted to see how sheâs doing, Buck.â Steve approaches your bed carefully, as if one step too close to you and Bucky might snap.Â
âTake a look, Steve.â He mutters, tracking the slow rise and fall of your chest. âI think itâs pretty clear.â
âI didnât come here to fight,â Steve tries, the guilt basically seeping from his pores.Â
âThen leave.â He finally looks at the blond, his blue eyes dark, cast beneath the shadows of his knit brow. Neither of the men can remember the last time such a rift was torn between them. Since the moment recognition sparked, since the wounds of time and captivity healed over.Â
There had never been such a deep wound between them.Â
But Bucky doesnât know how to fix something like this. An accident, a preventable accident. One with consequences far more painful than either could imagine.
âPlease,â the blonde whispers, his frown curling deeper. âI just- I came to check on you. â
âYouâve seen me.â His voice is cold, detached- wounded. He shifts his gaze back to your bruised face.Â
âYou havenât eaten.â Steve shifts on his feet. âI just think-â
âI donât care what you think.â
Steve flinches, the sting of those words burning deep. âShe wouldnât want you hurting yourself like this. Neglecting yourself wonât help her-â
âDonât talk to me about what sheâd want- about whatâll help her.â He hisses, sitting up straighter in his seat. âShe doesnât have wants anymore- not like this. If you want to help, then fix her!â He snaps, his throat bobbing with sudden emotion. âHuh? No, you canât. No one can. So just get the fuck out.âÂ
Bucky slumps back in his seat, his knuckles pressing tightly to his lips.Â
Steveâs jaw snaps shut, his lips pressed to a thin line. There's a moment of tense silence shared between the two, but itâs clear to them both that Buckyâs uninterested in talking. Nothing Steve could say would change that.Â
So he lowers his head and leaves the room.Â
The door clicks shut, submerging the room in silence.
Your unconscious form lays still, ignorant to the entire exchange. Ignorant to the rest of the world. Your battered body knows only the tube keeping your lungs expanding, and the needle stuck in your hand.Â
Nothing else matters to you now.
Bucky blinks back tears, his knee bouncing anxiously. The resentment he feels towards his best friend brings him no satisfaction. It doesnât help the pain in his chest, but he just canât help it. He looks at Steve, and all he sees is regret. All he feels is grief.Â
He hears Steveâs voice forming the words, telling him about your condition.Â
Saying the words âYou were right.â
âFuck,â he chokes, pressing the heel of his palm against his eyes. He shakes his head, trying to clear the voices- the dark thoughts. It doesnât work, of course. The silence of your room only drags him further into the darkness.Â
And when he looks back at you, he canât help but cry. Silent tears slip down his cheeks, cold against his heated skin.Â
You look so different from the woman he knows. From the woman he longs for.Â
Regret burns in his chest like an old friend, spreading like poison.Â
He never should have let you go out there.
He never should have waited so long to tell you how he feels.
He never should have waited so long to ask you to dinner. To tell you how beautiful you are. To tell you how you make his heart stagger in his chest.
He never should have waited.Â
Life is made up of choices, regrets and joys. But mostly regrets. Regret is what makes a person human. It makes them think about the past, about the future. About their next step, their next choice.Â
Nobody wants to live a life of regret, whether it be because of a job, a child, a love, or a choice. Regret tears a person apart, makes a person bleed and drown.Â
Bucky has known nothing but regret and suffering. Heâs had nothing except memories to keep him going. The memory of his family, of his childhood, of Steve.Â
Memories of what life could be.
Until he met you.
You were like a breath of fresh air. Like the smell of rain in a drought.Â
The moment he saw you, he knew it was different. He knew youâd become something sore in his chest, perfect to torture him. He knew that smile, that laugh, that awkward tap of your fingers against your desk, it would kill him.Â
It would bleed through him, like a drug.Â
It was such a foreign feeling that it terrified him, you terrified him. He didnât know how to talk to you, how to draw you closer. It wasnât for the lack of trying, because on his part, he was always finding ways to be near you.
He was always finding reasons to wander into your office, to draw out conversations in the briefing room, to help you with anything you needed.Â
And God, the soft smile youâd send his way whenever you caught his eye, it melted him.Â
The quiet âgood luck out there, soldier,â youâd whisper to him on the way out of the briefing room.
The sound of your chuckle in his ear, when you spoke to him over comms.Â
Everything about you set him on fire.Â
And all he wanted was to see that smile one more time. Hear that laugh, one more time.Â
This fate was so preventable, and that just made it all the more painful. It would have been so easy for you to stay home- behind the desk, behind the scenes. But you didnât know how to say no.
They needed a woman. They needed someone to blend into the background. Someone invisible. With every other female Avenger being a face even a blind man could recognize, you were all thatâs left.
And you never said no to helping people. To helping the team. God, did Bucky wish you could have just been selfish this once. Been too afraid to go out there. Too cowardly.Â
But you said yes.Â
You had no idea what you were walking into, and you said yes.Â
Bucky drags your limp hand into his, careful to not touch your IV. His tongue swipes over his lip, soothing the anxiously bitten skin. Itâs been days, he thinks. Days of silence. Days of bad news. Days spent in denial.
âIâm so sorry, sweetheartâŠâ he whispers, his voice cracking. But no apology could make this better. âI donât-â He sucks in a trembling breath. âI donât know what to do,â he choked. âI donât know how to make this betterâŠâ
Talking to you feels pointless. You canât hear him. And even if you could, you shouldnât have to listen to his pathetic ramblings.Â
He swallows hard and drops his head to the mattress, his thumb stroking over your knuckles. His eyes squeeze shut, his breath fanning over your scabbed hand. You donât smell like you anymore. You smell like antiseptic and papery sheets.Â
Bucky tries to remember the last time he was close enough to smell you.
He thinks it was the last time the group of you and the team went out to the bar. You asked him to watch your drink so you could go dance, and when you came back you leaned into his space to sip from your straw.Â
He remembers the feeling of his cheeks staining pink as he shamelessly smelled your perfume. Your conditioner mixed in, drifting into his space as your hair brushed his jaw.Â
You hadnât noticed, too tipsy and busy laughing. You were so happy that night.
You loved to dance. He liked to watch, fond and protective.Â
He wishes he would have joined you on the dancefloor that night, taken your hand and followed your lead. But he didnât, too afraid and too embarrassed.
Regret. Regret might as well be his middle name, engraved on his tombstone.Â
Bucky doesnât remember dozing off, but when he next opens his eyes, a nurse is checking your vitals.Â
His head snaps up, his eyes squinting through the dark room. A single light over your bed illuminates the space enough for the nurse to read your chart. âIs she okay?â
The woman jumps, her gaze snapping to Bucky. âOh-â she blinks down at the man. âYes, everythingâs fine. Iâm just monitoring her.â
âOh,â He slowly sits up, glancing back down at where your hand is clutched in his. âNothing new?â
The woman shakes her head. âNothing as of now,â her voice is soft, practiced in the art of bad news. âBut no change doesnât have to be bad, it means sheâs not getting worse.â
Bucky nods solemnly, his hands absently playing with your fingers. âRight.â
âIâll let you get some rest, someone will be back to check on her in about an hour.â She says on the way out.Â
Bucky says nothing, his disappointment too heavy. A part of him quietly wished that the next time he woke up, youâd be there blinking back at him. But that was too hopeful. Instead, you lay there motionless. Silent, hopeless.
Bucky has handled a lot of bad news in his lifetime. He has dealt with some of the worst shit humanity could throw at a person. But this is different. Waiting like this? Itâs killing him.Â
Itâs only been a few days and there's already no end in sight.
He doesnât know whatâll happen to you. He doesn't know what tomorrow may bring. He just knows heâll be with you when it comes.Â
Days pass without change.Â
Bucky stops hoping for good news. Instead, he hopes for the lack of bad news. Your condition fluctuates, every day something new worries your doctors, only for you to pull through. But nothing substantial changes.
Youâre still unresponsive. Still sleeping.
Eventually Bucky eats. He doesnât realize how hungry he is until he finally makes the trip to the cafeteria. The smell of food makes his cheeks sour in disgust- the kind that only comes when youâre starving.Â
A grief only partially underway comes in pieces. It makes everything you do feel bitter and poisoned.Â
It makes chewing and swallowing feel wrong, knowing you may never get the chance again. Bucky stares down at his sandwich blankly, his body heavier than it was that morning.Â
So he chokes down a few bites and makes the trip back to your room. He knows there will be no change when he gets there, but there's still that dying hope youâll be awake when he returns.
Instead, what he finds makes his stomach drop. âWhat are you doing here?â
Tony glances back over his shoulder, his brow twitching up. âMorning sunshine, I was wondering where you were-â
âWhat are you doing here, Tony?â Bucky repeats himself, his body stiff in the doorway.
The other man sighs, his hands tossing up in defeat. âI wanted to see how sheâs doing. Doc said there wasnât much change, huh?â
Buckyâs jaw flutters, his teeth clenching shut. His stomach turns, and suddenly the rest of the wrapped sandwich in his hand sounds a lot less appetizing. He silently returns to his chair at your bedside, his knee bouncing anxiously.
âNot gonna say anything?â Tonyâs voice is grating to his ears.
âGot nothing to say.â He mutters, his gaze falling heavily to your hand- which he scoops back into his.Â
âRight,â Tony mutters. âLook-â He sucks in a heavy breath. âI wanted to say youâre right.â
Bucky huffs, his lip twitching wryly.
âYou warned us, and we should have listened to you. We-â Tony looks off to the side. âWe should have had her back.â
The words feel like a kick to the gut. Nothing he didnât already know, but god did it hurt to hear him say it. To acknowledge just how preventable this all was.
Bucky doesnât respond, his silence toxic enough to send the message. Tony makes a quiet noise, then moves to the door. But then heâs speaking again- this time not to Bucky.Â
âGood luck with him, heâs not exactly in a chatty mood.â
Bucky doesnât have to look back to know who it is. He can tell by the quiet hum and careful footsteps. Then heâs watching Sam approach your bed side, a solemn look on his face.Â
Neither men say anything at first. Sam just watches you, his hand hovering carefully above your shoulder. His frown curls deeper, and then heâs glancing at the other.Â
âPeople are worried, you know,â he mutters, glancing at where Bucky cradles your hand in his.
âThey should be,â he whispers, his fingers slowly playing with yours.Â
âI mean about you,â Sam sighs heavily- in that knowing way he does.
Bucky frowns. âIâm fine.â
âAnd Iâm Betty White,â Sam huffs. âYouâre not fine, man. You haven't left this place since she got admitted.â
Why would he leave? Whatâs the point? And if he did- what if something happened? What would he do if you slipped away, and he wasnât here?
âGot nowhere else to be.â He whispers, his thumb tracing your nail beds.Â
Sam doesnât say anything for a while, instead just lets himself stare at the both of you. At your yellowing bruises, your spikey stitches, your intubation tube. Buckyâs dark eyebags. The wrinkle forming between his brows.Â
He notices the blanket in the corner, where Bucky tossed it aside nights before, frustrated and pacing.Â
He notices the imprint in the blanket by your hip, where Buckyâs been laying his head- dozing off at your side.Â
âShe could pull through, you know. Crazier things have happened.â Sam mutters.
âPeople have died from smaller things.â Bucky responds bitterly. âPeople die every day.â
âAnd people survive every day too,â The younger responds, his voice strong. âYou need to get it together, man. Youâre not helping her if you canât even believe in her.â
Buckyâs head snaps up, horror and injury flashing in his gaze. âI havenât given up on her.â
âSounds like you have. Sounds like youâre just waiting for her to die,â Sam responds, his frown battling the others.Â
âFuck you-â Bucky spits, his fingers mindlessly tightening around yours.
Sam doesnât take offense to his venomous words. He knows heâs just angry at himself, at the situation. âI just mean, donât give up on her yet. Iâve survived a lot of insane shit, and Iâm still standing. Donât count her out just yet.â
âSheâs not-â
âAn Avenger?â Sam lifts a brow. âI haven't taken any serum either, Buck. Neither has about eight billion people. And everyday people survive the impossible. Just give her time.â
Buckyâs lips press together, words dying on his tongue. He hasnât given up on you.Â
Heâs just never been good with hope.Â
With positive outlooks.Â
Heâs not used to things turning out well for him. For anyone.
Sam rounds your bed, his hand dropping to Buckyâs shoulder. âI know how much you care about her, Buck. So just hold on for her, okay?â
Bucky wakes to the sound of panic.Â
His body shoots up right, his neck pinched from the awkward angle. A garbled noise drags his attention up your body.Â
His pulse spikes, his eyes snapping wide.Â
You make a choked noise, your throat constricting around your intubation tube. Your lashes flutter, your body twitches. Your hands are moving, your fingers twitching around your neck.Â
Bucky is shouting, his hands trembling around the emergency control remote. He barely hears the words spilling from his lips, all he knows is heâs calling for help.
A nurse comes rushing in, shoves past Bucky and heads straight for you. âWhatâs-whatâs happening?â He stammers, stumbling to the foot of your bed. Another nurse jogs into the room, her hand dropping to Buckyâs forearm.Â
âSir, just give us a minute-â
But he canât hear her. All he can see is you, tears streaming down your bruised cheeks. Eyes rolled back. Saliva dripping down your chin. The other Nurse is quick with her hands, steadily pulling the tube from your throat.Â
You choke on a gasp, your busted lips falling open.
Buckyâs swaying, he realizes. He has to grab the root of your bed for stability, a shaky breath of air stinging in his chest. Everything blurs together as your eyes roll open. Itâs like tunnel vision sets in, and all he can see is you. Your chest rising on its own, your lashes fluttering, your brows pinching together.
Heâs too scared to blink- afraid you might slip away. Afraid it might be a dream.Â
But then the nurses brush past him, whispers of encouragement and reassurance on their tongues. Then the door clicks shut.Â
Youâre alone.Â
A gasp slips from his lips the moment your eyes meet. Heâs stumbling to your side, his hands hovering hesitantly over your body. Your lips shift, but only a wince climbs up your throat.
âHey⊠heyâŠâ he whispers, his voice hitched up a careful octave. His heart is thrumming in his chest, blood rushing through his ears- almost too loud for him to focus. âItâs okay- itâs okay, donât speakâŠâ
You whine softly, your expression melting into a grimace.Â
Calloused fingers brush your cheek, a graze, too scared to touch you fully. A cold tear slips down your cheek. You blink up at him, your head rolling towards his hand. He has to swallow the choked noise that begs so climb out of his chest.Â
âI donât-â he carefully cups your cheek, your spikey stitches scratching his palm. âI donât know what to doâŠâ He whispers, almost to himself. Your fingers brush over the back of his hand, your movements sluggish and weak. You whimper softly, making his pulse spike. âItâs okayâŠâ
Your eyes roll shut, and then your hand is falling away. For a moment, Buckyâs heart sinks to his feet. But he can feel your steady breath against his fingers. He can hear the slow beat of your heart monitor. You swipe your tongue over your lips again, wincing quietly.
âYouâre hereâŠâ You whisper, your voice raw and chapped. Bucky nearly flinches from the sound.Â
âYeahâŠâ He swallows, stroking his palm down your cheek. âIâm here, sweetheart.â
Your eyes roll open, staring up at him. You lean into his calloused hand, your face numb. âWhatâŠhappened?â The words sound more like a whimper, your lip wobbling with emotion.
Bucky almost flinches at the sound. Heâs never heard you sound so weak, so small. A pain blooms in his chest as he recalls the details of your accident. âYou were spotted on your missionâŠâ He starts, barely whispering as his gaze flickers over you. âYou were attacked, you- you went through a wall on the second floor.â He blinks back tears, not wanting to scare you with his emotions.Â
âYou fell, landed on a car.â He has to clear his throat, his body coiling tense. As the words leave him, he canât help but marvel at you. At how impossible it seems for you to be here, to be alive. But you are; you stare up at him, tears slipping down your temples, your eyes clear.Â
You press your lips together and turn your face away from him, trying not to sob. Humiliation floods your system, and suddenly all you want to do is hide.Â
You failed, so so painfully. You couldnât do the one thing asked of you. And now? You donât dare look down at your body, donât dare wonder what you look like. You can only imagine. And the shame those images bring you is all consuming.Â
You choke down a dry sob, your cheek pressing into the pillow. Buckyâs hands hover above you now, helpless of what to do. âHey, hey,â he whispers, his fingers shaking. âItâs okay- You're-â He stops himself; he wonât lie to you. He has no idea if youâre okay, or if you ever will be again.Â
You drag a bruised hand over your face, wiping salty tears. You gasp when your nails catch on spiky stitches and swollen bones. Your panicked gaze snaps to Buckyâs. The look in his eye is harrowing; something youâve never seen from him before.Â
The dread building inside you spikes, swelling in your chest, stopping your lungs from expanding. You suck in a sharp breath through your teeth, your heart pounding against your ribs. Your fingers press a little firmer to the sealed gash in your cheek, making you wince.
Bucky snatches your wrist away quickly, panic building in him. âDonât-â he blurts, his hands circling yours, encasing it. Sharp blue eyes snap between yours, eyebrows pinched and shot to his hairline. âPlease donât do thatâŠâ
You whine, wanting to turn away from him again. You donât want him to see you like this. You donât want his image of you to be stained with weakness and failure.Â
You can barely grasp the thoughts floating through your head, barely keep yourself from hyperventilating. You donât want anyone to see you like this.
Your teeth sink into your lip, smothering the sob building in your throat. But you canât keep it down this time. Buckyâs careful voice, his strong hand trembling against yours, his unwavering gaze fixed on you- it hurts. All of it.
You canât breathe, you realize, as your mouth falls open around a cry. Bucky winces above you. He leans over you, one hand falling to your shoulder, the other cradling your head. âHey, look at me,â he whispers, his gentleness potent.
You blink up at him through tears, your eyes burning. Your chest rattles with each sharp gasp, your ribs aching.Â
âShh, itâs okay,â he pets your hair out of your face. âJust breathe, in through your nose, out through your mouth,â he guides you, taking a dramatically slow breath to guide you.Â
Heâs recycling actions used on him in his darkest moments, trying to follow the steps offered to him long ago. Because he has no idea what heâs doing. He doesnât know how to help someone, especially not you.
You, who was like a rock, every time he saw you. You, who always made him feel safe and calm. You, who always knew what to say.Â
Heâs never seen you like this. He doesnât want to. But he refuses to leave you like this.Â
You try to listen, try to calm down, but the pain in your chest only spurs your panic on. You squeeze your eyes shut, forcing yourself to focus on the sound of his voice.Â
âJust like that, there you go,â he quietly encourages, stroking your tangled hair back. You focus on the feeling of his warm hand, the feeling of his fingers tracing your hairline. âDoinâ so good,â he whispers, his thumb rubbing circles into your shoulder.
You breathe out a slow puff, your lips falling open. Buckyâs nails scratch gently at your scalp, then resume petting your hair back. Your eyes roll open, your body relaxing when your gaze meets his.Â
His frown tugs deeper. The calloused pad of his thumb strokes the tears from your cheeks. You donât flinch, donât move. You just watch him, and the way he carefully frets over you.Â
You take another slow breath, your chest aching a little less. Bucky continued thumbing at your tear tracks, his touch feather-light. Your brows twitch together in confusion, your fuzzy brain slowing down enough to make sense of your situation.Â
Thereâs no one else here, no one but him.Â
He looks exhausted. He looks distraught. He hasnât stopped touching you since the moment your eyes rolled open.Â
âHow long sinceâŠ?â You whisper, your throat dry as your swallow.Â
Bucky snaps out of his daze as he blinks down at you. âA little over a week,â he mutters, frowning at his own words.
âHow longâŠHow long have you been here?â Your lashes flutter in a slow blink.
His thumb twitches against your cheek, his palm resting against your jaw. His throat bobs awkwardly, but he doesnât turn away. âSince the accident.â
The words leave him easily, but the weight they carry is unimaginable. You stare up at him, unblinking, as you swallow everything unsaid. Your silence eats at him, spreading shame beneath his skin like a poison.Â
He never once thought of leaving your side. Never once wanted to. He couldnât- not you.Â
But maybe this wasnât his place. Maybe this was too much, maybe he was overwhelming you.Â
Just as his hand begins to pull away, your fingers slide around his wrist. âDonât,â you blurt. Bucky pauses, his brows twitching up. âDonât leave.â
He swallows, his hand sliding back around your jaw. Your cold skin heats beneath his touch. Beneath his affection.Â
ââM not goinâ anywhereâŠâ he whispers.Â
You squeeze his wrist a little tighter. âPromise?â
For the first time since you woke up, his lips twitch in a soft smile. âI promise.â
A/N: Let me know if yall want more of them. Had some fun with this.
If anyone in the requested tag list wants to be tagged in all my upcoming Bucky fics, let me know in the comments and I'll add you to the regular taglist.
Requested to be tagged in this work:
@splooshdooshploosh @saucysasha2035 @vicmc624 @ordelixx @fadingcollectivenightmare @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @the-once-and-future-bitch @cherryandsugar @thefandomplace
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THE STARK PROTOCOL-PETER PARKER X STARK!READER



summary: when peter tries to admit his feelings for you and ask you on a date while your father is away, things suddenly dont go as planned and your fatherâs hologram catches you.
warnings: none!
word count: 2.3k
Peter knew it was a bad idea, But he couldnât help it.
Liking you â falling for you â was probably the dumbest thing heâd ever done. And he had done a lot of dumb things. Accidentally webbed himself to a moving train. Tried to fight an alien invasion with a half-charged suit. Tripped over Captain Americaâs shield during training.
But this? You?
This was a whole new kind of disaster.
Because you werenât just anyone. You were you â Tony Starkâs daughter. The only person on the planet who somehow managed to be more terrifying, brilliant, and beautiful than your father all in one. You were magnetic in a way Peter didnât stand a chance against. Funny without trying. Wicked smart. Eyes that saw right through him. Lips that curved into a smirk every time he got flustered â which was a lot.
And God, you were the prettiest girl he had ever seen.
That kind of pretty that made him forget to blink. That made him short-circuit mid-sentence when you leaned over his shoulder in the lab or ruffled his hair when he was sulking. That kind of pretty that wasnât just surface â it was woven into your voice, your laugh, the way you looked at him like he mattered.
And for a long time, heâd convinced himself it was fine. That he could just ignore it. That it was safer that way. Because Mr. Stark â Tony â had made it very clear how he felt about the idea of Peter getting anywhere near his daughter.
âI donât want someone like you dragging her into this life,â heâd said once. Not cruel. Just firm. âShe deserves normal. Stability. And you? You wear grief and danger like a second skin.â
And Peter⊠got it.
He did. He knew what it meant to live this life. He knew what it cost. He knew about responsibility. Sacrifice. Late nights, near-death experiences, and the weight of saving people who never knew your name.
But it didnât stop how he felt. Not when you were around.
Especially not when you teased him the way you did.
When you sat beside him during team briefings and quietly passed him gum like he was going to combust under pressure. When you called him out in front of the team just to make him squirm, then winked at him after like it was your own private joke. When you stayed up late helping him fix his web shooters, fingers brushing over his every now and then, warm and steady and undeniably distracting.
It drove him insane â in the best, most excruciating way.
And tonight was no different.
The living room was quiet now â most of the team had scattered after dinner. Bucky and Sam were still bickering down the hall, and Wanda had disappeared with Vision, promising tea and calm. But here, on the couch, it was just Peter and you.
You sprawled across the cushions like you owned the place â which, okay, technically you did. Your legs were kicked up over the armrest, your top hitched up just enough to send Peterâs brain spiraling.
He sat beside you, tense and awkward, palms damp against his jeans. You flipped through the channels like none of it mattered, completely at ease.
âWandaâs a goddess,â you sighed, settling on a rerun of something animated and ridiculous. âIf I had her cooking powers, Iâd be unstoppable.â
âYouâre already kinda unstoppable,â Peter said, voice a little too high. âI mean â not like witch unstoppable â but you donât really need paprika to be, uh, impressive. Orâ yeah.â
You looked over at him, smirking. âDid you just compare me to paprika?â
Panic. âNo! I mean, maybe? Notâ not like a spice! I meant like, youâreâ you knowâ great! Without the spice! Not that youâre bland, justââ
âPeter,â you said with a quiet laugh, âbreathe.â
His mouth shut instantly, face flushing pink.
You tilted your head toward him, your teasing smile fading into something softer. The glow from the TV flickered across your face, casting shadows Peter was sure even the stars were jealous of. It was a moment â one of those this is it, do it now kind of moments.
So he swallowed his nerves and sat up a little straighter.
âIâve, uh⊠Iâve been meaning to ask you something,â he started, scratching the back of his neck.
You quirked a brow, still watching him. âFinally confessing you stole my charger two months ago?â
âWhat? No! I mean, yes â but I was gonna return it! I justâ I meantââ
You laughed, and it nearly broke him. Heâd never get used to how beautiful you looked when you smiled.
âI was gonna say,â Peter said quickly, voice cracking just slightly, âI was wondering if youâd want to go out with me sometime?â
There. He said it. He actually said it.
His heart was racing. His whole body felt like it was vibrating from the inside out. He stared at you, half-expecting you to laugh or call him cute in that âoh sweetieâ way you sometimes did when he was being awkward.
But you didnât. You smiled â not teasing, not sarcastic, just⊠warm.
âPeterââ you started.
And thenâ
The TV blinked.
Static crackled.
The lights dimmed just slightly.
And suddenly â there he was.
Tony Stark.
In full holographic glory, projected in front of the screen like a ghost conjured by sarcasm and spite.
Peterâs blood ran cold.
âPeter Benjamin Parker,â the hologram said, voice sharp and clipped. âStep away from my daughter.â
Peter nearly died.
âOh my God,â you groaned, dragging a hand down your face. âDad. Seriously?â
âI anticipated this,â Holo-Tony continued, ignoring you completely. âExactly this. The minute you started âaccidentallyâ dropping by the tower three times a week, I initiated Protocol Stark #4.â
Peterâs mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. âIâ this isnâtâ I wasnâtâ I mean, I was, but not like thatâ!â
âDo you have any idea,â Tonyâs voice cut in like a guillotine, âhow many high-level defense protocols I created to prevent this exact scenario? Hormone-fueled superheroes flirting with my daughter? Twelve. I built twelve.â
The hologram turned to look directly at Peter, as if it could somehow smell his panic.
âThis is Protocol Stark #4: Donât Even Think About It, Kid.â
Peter actually whimpered.
You were trying not to laugh, but failing miserably now. You shoved a pillow in your face to muffle the sound, shoulders shaking.
âIâI swear, sir, I wasnât trying anythingâwell, I was, butââ Peter stopped himself. âNot like that! I respect her! And you! I meanâI respect her more obviously, not that I donât respect youââ
âKid,â the hologram cut in flatly. âTake a breath before you pass out and I have to activate Protocol #6: CPR from Hulk.â
Peter blinked. âThatâs⊠not real, right?â
The hologram flickered slightly.
ââŠMaybe.â
Holographic Tony stood in front of the TV, glitching slightly at the edges, arms crossed, sunglasses on despite it being nighttime in New York. Somewhere behind him in the projection, palm trees and a luxury resort were just barely visible.
Peter froze. You dragged a hand over your face and let out the deepest sigh heâd ever heard from a human being.
Tony Stark tilted his head, calm and smug as ever. âSweetheart, you know I run surprise protocol checks when Iâm on vacation. Youâre lucky I didnât send the Mark 49.â
You gestured wildly at the screen. âYouâre supposed to be on a getaway with Mom!â
âI am. Sheâs in the spa. Iâm doing security sweeps. You know â relaxing.â
Peter looked like he was physically trying to sink into the couch cushions.
âI swear,â you muttered, âthis is why we canât have nice things.â
You groaned and turned to Peter. âDo not move. Youâre not running away.â
âI wasnât gonna runââ he whispered. âI was maybe gonna, like⊠web-launch out the window. Casually.â
You rolled your eyes and looked back at the screen. âDad, seriously?â
Tony sighed dramatically. âLook. Itâs not that I donât like Peter.â
Peter blinked. âWait, really?â
âI said itâs not that I donât like you. I didnât say I do like you.â
âOh. That⊠yeah, that checks out.â
âItâs that Iâve spent years keeping my daughter out of the line of fire. And you, my kid, are a walking magnet for building collapses, supervillains, and emotionally repressed wizards. I donât want her caught in that.â
You cut in, arms crossed. âI help you build suits. I literally write code for the Towerâs defense systems. I helped reprogram F.R.I.D.A.Y. last month to keep Peter from faceplanting off the 46th floor.â
âStill fell, though,â Tony said, looking off-screen.
âBecause you turned off my webbing mid-air to test a reflex protocol!â Peter blurted.
Tony shrugged. âI had faith.â
You threw your arms up. âSo what is this? The jealous dad on a tropical beach pulling security holograms every time a boy gets within five feet of me?â
âYes,â Tony said immediately. âThatâs exactly what this is.â
You looked down at your StarkPad, already typing. âInitiating manual override of Hologram Protocol #4âŠâ
âDonât you dareââ
âVoice authorization: Iâm an adult, and Peter hasnât even kissed me yet.â
Peter choked.
Tonyâs sunglasses slipped slightly down his nose. âWhat did she just say?â
You pressed one final key. The hologram flickered.
âLove you, Dad. Go drink something with a tiny umbrella in it.â
And just like that, the hologram vanished with a high-pitched glitch and a long beep.
Peter stared at you, shell-shocked. ââŠHeâs going to murder me when he gets back.â
âHeâs not,â you said, leaning into his side with a sly smile. âNot if I get to you first.â
Peter blinked. âWaitâ is that a threat or a date?â
You tilted your head. âWhy not both?â
He flushed scarlet.
âSoâŠâ he said, cautiously hopeful. âThat yes from earlier? Still valid?â
You reached over, slid your fingers into his. âAbsolutely.â
Peter exhaled like heâd been holding his breath for five months.
âYouâre sure? No retracting? No drones? No flaming swords?â
You grinned. âJust dinner, dork.â
He smiled back, slow and bright. âCool. Thatâsâ thatâs really cool.â
A pause.
ââŠShould I be worried about Protocol #5?â
You nodded. âOh, 100%. That oneâs face-scanning and armed.â
Peter looked vaguely ill.
âWorth it though,â you said softly, resting your head on his shoulder.
He smiled like he couldnât believe this was real.
âYeah,â he said. âDefinitely worth it.â
#lumosflair#x reader#peter parker x reader#tom holland#tom!peter x reader#peter parker fluff#peter parker x stark!reader#tony stark#spiderman#tom holland spiderman
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I love a guy whoâs always dying for some reason!!
I was gonna make endgame tony too (I still will, this is a threat), but here iron man 1/2
#iron man#iron man 2#marvel#mcu#tony stark#I love iron man 3 but I cannot for the life of me think of a scene where heâs actively dying#well I mean heâs getting blown up a lot#but thatâs hard to put into art yaknow
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