#tony stark deserves the multiverse

[dalekofchaos]

Doctor Doom gets ruined AND WHITEWASHED AGAIN!

4 attempts to get Doctor Doom right

4

And we STILL can’t get this right

A master of magic and science. A man who rivals Doctor Strange and Reed Richards as the most powerful sorcerer and the smartest man alive. He rules an entire country with an army of Doombots. Considered to be one of the greatest Marvel villains. And they still can't get him right. They have to make him a fucking Tony Stark variant. Tony Stark is not Victor Von Doom and Doom is above Tony Stark.

Victor wearing the mask always is integral to his appeal and aura like Vader's mask. It not only hides his vain scars he caused due to his failures, but it closes him off from humanity and makes him believe he’s beyond it.

As far as I'm concerned Marvel Ultimate Alliance and EMH are the only good adaptations of Doom

Doctor Doom being a romani man with a background CENTERING his family's racial persecution. with his ethnicity at the forefront of his motivations and his tragedy. and they really just brought back Robert Downey Jr.

Being romani is INTEGRAL to doom’s character and without that he’s not doom. he NEEDS to be romani and played by a romani character. full stop, don't believe me? Read Book Of Dooms.

Since 1964 Victor von Doom has been established as a Romani character. His childhood was filled with antiziganism and his parents deaths were caused by it. This later led him to become Doctor Doom and overthrow the Latverian government to protect his people

I am so fucking sick and tired of this whitewashing bullshit and the ethnoerasure of Marvel characters.

The Maximoff Twins, The Ancient One, Moon Knight and now fucking Doom.

God fucking forbid an actual Romani actor PLAYS A ROMANI CHARACTER.

But no they pulled another fucking multiverse shit all so RDJ could return and it all feels like blackface from Tropic Thunder

I DON'T GIVE A FUCKING SHIT ABOUT ANTHONY STARK FROM EARTH-11029 OR INFAMOUS IRON MAN

If you wanted evil Iron Man so fucking bad, why didn't you just do Superior Iron Man?

The LAZIEST, DUMBEST, most CONTRIVED BULLSHIT casting ever, Marvel continues to not beat the whitewashing allegations. Doctor Doom deserved better.

Romani actor Charlie Clapman was right fucking there AND HE ENDORSED IT!

I'd even suggest Romani actor Óscar Jaenada as Doom. Again another Roma actor who's actively interested in playing Doom

And you know what? As bad as the 1994 movie was, Joseph Culp the first actor to play Doom in the Fantastic Four (1994) movie by Oley Sassone & Richard Corman. Culp was also white but he very clearly cared for the comics background of Victor von Doom

and you also know damn well they're going to erase everything about Magneto too that makes him who he is… which is his entire fucking background. how horrible of a person do you have to be to repeatedly disrespect the minorities who created these stories?

Doctor Doom is Roma Romani. He is not white. The MCU loves to whitewash its Roma and Jewish characters and it’s time we called them out for it. Dr Doom is not a white man, he is Roma!

They will never nail down the complexity of Victor Von Doom

Every year Doom goes to hell to fight Mephisto to rescue the soul of his mother. He finally won her soul with the help of Doctor Strange only for her to reject him.

No evil Stark replicant will ever fucking match the complexity of Victor Von Doom.

I don't care if this is a one time thing for RDJ. They specifically chose to do this when the fans were begging for a fucking Romani actor. It also doesn't fucking help that Marvel has erased nearly EVERY fucking ethnic character has been whitewashed.

Scarlet Witch & Quicksilver: Erased Romani heritage and whitewashed. Moon Knight & Wiccan: Casted non-Jewish actors. Sabra: Featured in anything at all, and actress is an IDF soldier to make matters worse.

The MCU is full of ethnic erasure, military propaganda & racism. it’s disgusting this is continuing with Dr Doom’s casting. remember to continue to boycott marvel, because of the genocide they support by casting an iof solider to play a character from the zionist terrorist occupation

Dr Doom is one of those villains that it should be IMPOSSIBLE to fuck up but wasting him on a cheap Iron Man nostalgia casting pop might be the way

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

This would be infinitely better than anything Waldron would come up with.

The next Doctor Strange movie should just be about him chilling in his house with all the weird little guys he collected

[amethystarachnid]

I absolutely adore your Tony Stark fics and I love the fluff they usually have but I was hoping to request some angst. preferably where Tony and reader have been fighting lately cause he’s always down in the lab and won’t come to bed, then reader comes down late one night and he confesses to having nightmare’s and about being afraid, there’s a lot of reassurance and tears: maybe some yelling at the beginning and ofc fluff at the end ;3 Tysm, <3

STARK REALITIES

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

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

ᯓ★ Genre: angst, angst, some more angst and some fluff / romance at the end

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5.3k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): tony spending tooo much time in the lab but in the end he makes up for it <3

ᯓ★ oh I love the angst!

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

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

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

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

You sit on the edge of the couch, arms folded tightly across your chest as you glare at the muted television. The flickering images do little to distract you from the simmering anger boiling just beneath your skin. It's late—too late for you to be awake, and certainly too late for Tony to still be in his lab. Yet, here you are, alone in the penthouse again, waiting for a man who’s made promises he doesn’t seem to care to keep anymore.

The silence of the apartment is oppressive. It stretches out, thin and brittle, like glass about to shatter. Even JARVIS, with his ever-present butler-like demeanor, seems to sense the tension and keeps his usual comments to himself. Your foot bounces restlessly against the floor, each tap echoing in the empty space like a metronome ticking away at your patience.

The elevator dings faintly, the sound nearly lost in the expansive living room, and you straighten instinctively. The doors slide open with their familiar hiss, and Tony strides out, his steps unhurried, his focus glued to the holographic projection on the tablet in his hand. He’s still wearing his grease-streaked tank top and the same pair of sweatpants he’s had on for three days straight, looking every bit like the genius billionaire inventor the world reveres but nothing like the man you fell in love with.

“You’re finally done playing God in your lab?” you say, voice laced with sarcasm sharp enough to cut steel. It’s not the greeting he deserves, but it’s the only one you’re capable of mustering right now.

Tony glances up, his brow furrowing briefly before the mask of indifference slides into place. “Nice to see you too, sweetheart,” he replies, his tone dismissive as he sets the tablet down on the kitchen counter and pours himself a glass of water.

You scoff, leaning back against the couch as your arms tighten around yourself. “Oh, don’t worry. It’s not like I’ve been waiting up for you or anything.”

“I told you I’d be working late,” he says without looking at you, his voice calm in that maddeningly detached way that makes you feel like you’re shouting into the void.

“You always work late,” you snap, your voice rising despite your best efforts to keep it steady. “Do you even remember the last time we had a normal conversation? Or… hell, even a meal together that didn’t involve you shoving takeout boxes aside so you could get back to tinkering with one of your precious suits?”

Tony sighs, finally turning to face you. His face is tired, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion, but there’s a flicker of irritation there too, a spark that ignites your own fury. “You knew what you were signing up for,” he says, his voice edging toward defensive. “This is who I am, Y/N. It’s not like any of this is new.”

“No, it’s not new,” you agree, standing now, unable to keep still under the weight of your emotions. “But it’s worse. You’re worse. You barely look at me anymore, Tony. Half the time, I don’t even know if you’re listening when I talk to you. It’s like you’ve replaced me with… with your damn lab.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, the gesture so practiced it’s almost automatic. “You’re overreacting.”

The words hit you like a slap, and your chest tightens as a bitter laugh escapes your lips. “Overreacting?” you repeat, your voice trembling with anger and hurt. “God, you really don’t get it, do you?”

Tony crosses his arms, leaning back against the counter as he regards you with a mixture of exasperation and something that looks suspiciously like guilt. “What do you want me to say, Y/N? That I’m sorry? Fine. I’m sorry. But I have responsibilities. You think I’m down there because I enjoy ignoring you?”

“I don’t know, Tony,” you shoot back. “Do you?”

He flinches, the question hitting closer to home than either of you expected. For a moment, the two of you just stand there, the silence between you heavy and suffocating. You can feel the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. Not now. Not in front of him.

“You can’t keep doing this,” you say finally, your voice quieter but no less firm. “You can’t keep shutting me out, Tony. I… I love you. But I can’t keep waiting for you to decide that I’m worth your time.”

His expression softens, the irritation fading to reveal the vulnerability he tries so hard to hide. He takes a step toward you, but you hold up a hand to stop him. “Don’t,” you say, your voice breaking. “Don’t say anything unless you actually mean it.”

Tony stops, his hand falling to his side. He looks at you, really looks at you, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you see a flicker of the man you fell in love with. But it’s not enough. Not this time.

Without another word, you turn and walk toward the bedroom, your heart heavy in your chest. You don’t slam the door behind you—you don’t have the energy for it. Instead, you close it softly, leaning against it as the tears you’ve been holding back finally spill over.

In the silence of the room, you hear Tony’s footsteps retreating back toward the elevator. Of course he’s going back to the lab. You don’t know why you expected anything different.

Sliding down to the floor, you bury your face in your hands and let yourself cry, the weight of your frustration and heartbreak washing over you in waves. You love him. God, you love him so much it hurts. But love isn’t enough to bridge the growing chasm between you. Not when he’s so determined to keep building walls.

And for the first time, you wonder if you’ll ever be enough to tear them down.

The next morning, you wake up to an empty bed, the sheets cold on Tony’s side. You expected it. He didn’t come to bed last night, just like he hasn’t for weeks. Still, the sight of the undisturbed pillow and blanket twists something sharp and painful in your chest.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you go through the motions of your morning routine, pretending it doesn’t bother you. Pretending it isn’t slowly eating you alive. By the time you make it to the kitchen, you find evidence of Tony’s presence—an empty mug in the sink, a crumpled napkin on the counter—but he’s nowhere to be found.

He’s in the lab. Of course.

Despite the ache in your chest, you decide to try again. Maybe today will be different. Maybe he’ll look at you like he used to, with warmth and affection instead of that distracted, faraway gaze he’s perfected over the past few months.

You make coffee, brewing it just the way he likes. It’s a small thing, but it feels like an offering, a token of the love you’re struggling to keep alive. Balancing the steaming mug in your hand, you head toward the lab, your heart heavy but hopeful.

When you step inside, the familiar hum of machinery greets you, along with the sight of Tony hunched over his workbench. His hair is a mess, his eyes glued to the glowing hologram in front of him. He doesn’t even look up when you enter.

“Morning,” you say, forcing cheerfulness into your voice.

“Morning,” he mumbles, not bothering to glance your way.

You place the coffee beside him, lingering for a moment in case he acknowledges you. But he doesn’t. He keeps tinkering, muttering under his breath about calibrations and power outputs.

“Thought we could have breakfast together,” you try, your voice softer now, hesitant.

“Can’t. Busy,” he replies curtly, tapping at the hologram with quick, precise movements.

Your heart sinks. “You’re always busy, Tony.”

“Yeah, because someone has to be,” he snaps, finally looking at you but only to shoot you a brief, irritated glare.

The words sting, and you bite your lip to keep the tears at bay. “Right. Of course. Sorry for interrupting.”

You turn and walk away before he can see how much his dismissal hurts. The coffee sits untouched on the table, a silent reminder of your failed attempt to connect with him.

Later, you sit in a café with your closest friends, picking at the edges of a croissant you have no intention of eating. The conversation around you is lighthearted, but you’re too distracted to participate. Eventually, one of them notices your silence.

“Y/N? You okay?”

You force a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

They don’t buy it. They never do. “Come on, what’s going on? Is it Tony?”

The mention of his name is enough to make your carefully constructed façade crumble. You sigh, leaning back in your chair as you stare out the window. “It’s… it’s like he’s not even there anymore. I try to talk to him, to spend time with him, but it’s like I don’t exist. He’s always in his lab, and when he does talk to me, it’s just… nothing. He doesn’t see me. Not really.”

Your friends exchange glances, their concern evident. “Maybe you need to stop trying so hard,” one of them suggests gently. “Let him come to you for a change. See if he notices.”

The idea lodges itself in your mind, and though it feels counterintuitive, you decide to try. Maybe they’re right. Maybe you’re smothering him. Maybe giving him space will make him realize what he’s missing.

The next few days are agony.

You stop going to the lab. You stop leaving coffee by his workstation. You stop waiting up for him at night. You don’t even text him anymore. It’s excruciating, every second of silence stretching longer and heavier than the last.

Tony doesn’t notice.

He doesn’t come to bed. He doesn’t ask where you are. He doesn’t even look for you. Days turn into nights and then into more days, and the distance between you grows until it feels insurmountable.

You start to feel like a ghost in your own home, haunting the spaces you used to share. The living room, the kitchen, the bedroom—all of them feel emptier than ever. Even when Tony is there, it’s like he isn’t.

You try to distract yourself. You throw yourself into work, into hobbies, into anything that might fill the gaping void in your chest. But it’s no use. You miss him. God, you miss him so much it’s unbearable.

One night, you find yourself sitting on the couch, staring at the empty hallway that leads to the lab. Your chest is tight, your hands trembling as you fight the urge to go to him. You promised yourself you wouldn’t. You promised yourself you’d wait for him to come to you.

But he hasn’t.

And deep down, you know he won’t.

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut, and you curl in on yourself, pressing your face into your hands as sobs wrack your body. You’ve never felt so lonely, so unloved, so utterly invisible.

This isn’t what love is supposed to feel like.

A week passes before you finally see Tony again. He emerges from the lab late one night, his face pale and drawn with exhaustion. You’re sitting on the couch, the TV playing softly in the background, but you don’t acknowledge him.

He hesitates for a moment, his gaze flickering toward you. For a second, you think he’s going to say something, but then he turns and heads to the kitchen without a word.

It’s the final straw.

You stand, your hands clenched at your sides as you follow him. He’s pouring himself a glass of water when you speak, your voice trembling with barely contained emotion.

“Do you even care anymore?”

Tony freezes, the glass halfway to his lips. Slowly, he sets it down and turns to face you. “What are you talking about?”

“You!” you shout, your voice cracking under the weight of everything you’ve been holding in. “Us! This… whatever this is! Do you even care? Because it doesn’t feel like it, Tony. It hasn’t felt like it for a long time.”

His brow furrows, confusion and defensiveness warring on his face. “Of course I care. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then show me!” you plead, your voice breaking. “God, Tony, I’ve been trying so hard, and you don’t even notice. I’ve given you space, I’ve stopped bothering you, I’ve waited for you to come to me, and you haven’t. Not once.”

He looks away, his jaw tightening. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy,” you repeat bitterly. “Right. Busy. Always busy. Too busy to talk to me, to spend time with me, to even look at me. Is that all I am to you? A distraction?”

Tony’s silence is deafening, and it cuts deeper than any words ever could.

You feel your heart shatter as you take a shaky step back. “I can’t do this anymore,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Without waiting for a response, you turn and walk away, the weight of your heartbreak threatening to crush you with every step. You don’t know where you’re going, but you know you can’t stay here. Not like this.

Not when it feels like you’re already gone.

Tony's p.o.v.

I don’t hear the bedroom door shut behind her, but I feel it. That silence—the kind that wraps around your chest like a steel vice—settles over the room, and I just stand there, staring at the glass of water in my hand like it holds the answers I need. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.

Her words ring in my ears long after she’s gone. Do you even care anymore? Of course I care. God, of course I care. She knows that, doesn’t she?

Doesn’t she?

I don’t follow her. Not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t know what the hell to say if I do. Every time we talk lately, it’s a minefield. One wrong step, and everything blows up.

So, I stay put. Like a coward.

I drain the glass in one gulp and set it down harder than I mean to, the sharp clink echoing in the empty kitchen. My hands are shaking. My hands never shake.

I retreat to the lab because it’s the only place that feels safe anymore. It’s easier down there—quiet, predictable, full of problems I can solve with equations and torque adjustments. Not the kind of problems that have your girlfriend looking at you like she doesn’t recognize you anymore.

The elevator ride feels longer than usual. Or maybe that’s just my guilt stretching out the seconds. When I step into the lab, the familiar hum of machinery greets me, and for a moment, I can almost pretend everything’s fine.

But it’s not.

I drop into the chair by my workstation and rub a hand over my face. The holograms I left running earlier flicker back to life, but I can’t focus on them. All I can see is the way she looked at me—her eyes red-rimmed, her voice cracking. She’s been crying. Again.

I hate that I’m the reason.

The worst part? I don’t even know when it got this bad. It didn’t happen overnight. It crept in, slow and insidious, until one day we were strangers living under the same roof.

I’ve been here before. Not with her, but with people I’ve cared about. Pepper. Rhodey. Hell, even my parents. I’m great at pushing people away—gold medal level, actually—but this? This is different. This is her.

And I’m screwing it up.

Days blur together. I bury myself in work because it’s what I do best. There’s always something to fix, always some new crisis to prepare for, always another project to distract me from the sinking feeling in my gut.

But no amount of work can distract me from the emptiness in the penthouse. She’s still here—I hear her moving around sometimes, quiet as a ghost—but we don’t see each other. She doesn’t come to the lab anymore, and I don’t go looking for her.

I tell myself it’s for the best. Give her space. Let things cool down. That’s what people do, right? They take time to figure things out.

But the days stretch on, and the silence between us grows louder.

One night, I sit in the lab staring at the half-finished schematics for a new suit, and my mind won’t stop replaying her voice. I can’t do this anymore.

It’s not the first time she’s said something like that, but this time it sounded different. Final.

The thought sends a jolt of panic through me. What if she meant it? What if she’s done?

My hands tighten into fists, and I shove back from the desk, pacing the length of the lab like a caged animal. I’ve been here before, too—standing on the edge of losing someone who matters. Every time, I tell myself I’ll do better, and every time, I fall back into the same damn patterns.

But this time… this time feels worse. Because I don’t just care about her. I need her.

I grab the tablet off the desk and scroll through the security feeds until I find her. She’s in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket pulled tightly around her. The TV is on, but she’s not watching it. She’s staring at the floor, her expression blank, like she’s not even there.

The sight punches me in the gut.

I want to go to her. I want to tell her I’m sorry, that I’ll do better, that she means more to me than any suit or project ever could. But the words catch in my throat, trapped behind years of bad habits and emotional walls.

Instead, I turn off the tablet and pour myself another drink.

A week goes by, and I start to wonder if this is it. If this is how we end—not with a fight, but with silence.

The thought terrifies me.

I sit in the lab one night, staring at the arc reactor glowing in my chest. It’s supposed to keep me alive, this thing I built with my own two hands. But right now, it feels like it’s killing me. Because what’s the point of staying alive if I’m driving away the one person who makes it worth it?

I think about going upstairs, about finding her and saying everything I’ve been too afraid to say. But what if she doesn’t want to hear it? What if I’m too late?

The thought paralyzes me. So, I stay in the lab, surrounded by machines that can’t fix this.

Y/n's p.o.v.

You don’t even remember falling asleep. One moment, you’re staring at the ceiling, trying to will yourself into calm, and the next, you’re dreaming. At first, it’s nothing—a blur of memories and emotions—until suddenly, it’s not.

You’re in the penthouse, calling out Tony’s name. The rooms are dark, unfamiliar, like you’re walking through a house you no longer belong to. You call again, but there’s no answer. Panic builds in your chest, clawing at your ribs.

When you finally find him, he’s standing in the middle of the lab, surrounded by blue holograms and the hum of machinery. Relief floods you, and you step toward him, but something’s wrong. He won’t look at you.

“Tony,” you say, your voice trembling. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t do this anymore,” he says, his voice cold and detached.

The words hit you like a slap. “What are you talking about?”

He finally turns to face you, and the look in his eyes is like ice. “This. Us. It’s too much. I’m better off alone.”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “You don’t mean that.”

But he does. You can see it in the way he turns away, in the finality of his movements as he walks out of the lab, out of the house, out of your life. You try to follow him, but your feet won’t move, like you’re rooted to the spot. You scream his name, over and over, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even look back.

And then you wake up.

Your chest heaves as you sit up, your heart pounding like it’s trying to escape your ribs. The room is dark, the sheets twisted around you, damp with sweat. For a moment, you can’t breathe.

It was just a dream.

But the panic doesn’t ease.

You reach out instinctively, your hand searching for him in the dark, but his side of the bed is empty. The sheets are cold.

“Tony?” you call out, your voice hoarse.

Silence.

The panic surges again, a tidal wave crashing over you. You throw off the covers and stumble out of bed, your legs trembling as you make your way to the door. The penthouse is quiet—too quiet—and every shadow feels like it’s mocking you.

You know where he is.

Your feet carry you toward the lab, your breath hitching with every step. Tears blur your vision, but you don’t stop. You can’t.

By the time you reach the lab, you’re sobbing, your chest heaving with a mix of fear and relief as you see him sitting at his workbench. He’s hunched over, focused on something in his hands, the glow of the arc reactor casting soft blue light across the room.

“Tony,” you choke out, your voice breaking.

He startles, turning toward you, and the moment he sees you, his expression shifts from confusion to concern. “Y/N? What—what’s wrong?”

You can’t get the words out. You take a shaky step forward, then another, until you’re standing in front of him, tears streaming down your face.

“I thought you—” You can’t finish the sentence. The dream is still too fresh, the fear too real.

Tony stands immediately, his hands reaching for you. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m right here.”

The moment his arms wrap around you, the dam breaks. You cling to him, sobbing into his chest, your hands clutching the fabric of his shirt like he might disappear if you let go.

“I thought you left,” you whisper between sobs. “I dreamed you left, and I couldn’t find you, and I—”

He pulls you closer, his hand cradling the back of your head as he presses his lips to your temple. “I’m here,” he murmurs, his voice steady and soothing. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

“But you’re always here,” you cry, gesturing weakly toward the lab. “You’re always in the lab, and I—I feel like I’ve already lost you, Tony. And then the dream—”

“Shh,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. He cups your face in his hands, tilting your head up so you can see the sincerity in his eyes. “Listen to me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know I’ve been a shitty boyfriend lately, and I hate that I’ve made you feel like this.”

Your lip trembles as you try to speak, but he shakes his head, cutting you off gently.

“You’re the most important thing in my life, Y/N,” he says, his voice breaking. “Not this lab, not the suits, not any of it. You. And I know I’ve been taking you for granted, and I hate myself for it. But I swear to you, I’m going to do better. I’m going to make this right.”

His words are like a balm on your heart, but the fear still lingers. “What if you don’t?” you whisper.

“I will,” he says, his hands framing your face like you’re the only thing anchoring him to the world. “I swear to you, I will. I’m going to spend less time in the lab. Hell, I’ll shut it down for a week if that’s what it takes. I’ll take you out, we’ll go somewhere—anywhere you want. Just say the word, and I’ll do it.”

You search his eyes, looking for any sign of insincerity, but all you see is the raw, unfiltered love you’ve been missing for so long.

“I love you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

The tears start again, but this time they’re different. They’re not from fear or sadness but from relief, from the overwhelming weight of his words sinking in.

“I love you too,” you whisper, your voice breaking as you wrap your arms around him.

He holds you tight, his lips brushing against your hair as he murmurs reassurances over and over, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he stops.

For the first time in months, the knot in your chest starts to loosen. It’s not perfect—it’s not fixed—but it’s a start.

And as you stand there in his arms, the steady hum of the arc reactor filling the room, you let yourself believe that maybe everything will be okay.

Tony doesn’t let go of you, not even for a second. He holds you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded, his arms wrapped so tightly around you that it’s almost as if he’s afraid you might disappear if he loosens his grip. His hand strokes your back in slow, comforting circles as your breathing starts to even out, the weight of your nightmare slowly ebbing away.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers against your hair, his voice softer than you’ve heard it in weeks. “I’ve got you, and I’m never letting go.”

You press your face into his chest, the steady hum of the arc reactor soothing in a way you didn’t think it could be anymore. His warmth, his scent, his presence—they’re everything you’ve been aching for, and now that you have them, you’re terrified of losing them all over again.

“Come on,” Tony says gently, his lips brushing against your temple. “Let’s get out of here. You need rest, and I’m not letting you wake up alone again.”

You nod, too drained to argue, and he shifts just enough to pick you up, cradling you against him like you weigh nothing. He’s always been strong, but this feels different—like he’s carrying you not just physically but emotionally, too.

When he lays you down in bed, he doesn’t hesitate to climb in beside you. He pulls you close, tangling his legs with yours and wrapping his arms around you like he’s determined to make up for every night he’s spent away. You feel his lips press softly against your forehead, then your cheek, and finally, he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ve been an idiot, and I hate that I made you feel like you weren’t my everything. Because you are, Y/N. You’re everything to me.”

You don’t say anything. You just bury your face in his chest and let the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lull you into the most peaceful sleep you’ve had in months.

When you wake up the next morning, he’s still there.

True to his word, Tony doesn’t let himself get sucked back into the lab. The very next day, he shuts down half his projects, instructing JARVIS to notify him only in case of emergencies. You don’t realize how serious he is until he emerges from the lab with a packed suitcase in one hand and a mischievous grin on his face.

“You,” he says, pointing at you like he’s just cracked the code to the universe, “and me. Anywhere you want to go. Name it.”

You laugh, thinking he’s joking, but when you realize he’s not, your heart skips a beat. “You mean it?”

“Of course I mean it,” he says, pulling you into his arms. “You’ve been stuck with the brooding, workaholic version of me for too long. It’s time you got the fun one again. Now, come on—where to? Paris? Rome? That weird island with the bioluminescent plankton?”

You can’t help but laugh at the way he lists the options like a kid flipping through a catalog. “Tony, we don’t have to go anywhere fancy—”

He cuts you off with a kiss, his lips warm and soft against yours. “This isn’t about fancy. This is about you and me, getting out of here and seeing the world. So pick a place, any place.”

You do, and before you know it, you’re on a plane to Italy, watching the sun set over the Mediterranean with a glass of wine in your hand and Tony’s arm draped casually around your shoulders. It’s the first of many trips—each one more magical than the last.

In Paris, he takes you to a quiet little bistro tucked away in a cobblestone alley, where the two of you share a bottle of wine and laugh until your sides hurt. He even attempts to speak French to the waiter, which ends in spectacular failure and has you both in stitches.

In Tokyo, he gets you lost in a maze of neon-lit streets, insisting he doesn’t need a map because “genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, remember?” You end up finding a tiny ramen shop that serves the best bowl of noodles you’ve ever had, and Tony spends the rest of the night bragging about his “impeccable sense of direction.”

In Egypt, he arranges for a private tour of the pyramids at sunrise. You watch the sky turn shades of pink and gold as he wraps his arms around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Beautiful,” he says, but when you glance at him, he’s not looking at the pyramids—he’s looking at you.

It’s not just the grand gestures, though. It’s the little things that make your heart ache in the best way. The way he holds your hand on crowded streets, the way he carries your bags even when you insist you can manage, the way he sneaks kisses when he thinks no one’s looking.

One night in Santorini, he surprises you with a candlelit dinner on the balcony of your villa. The view is breathtaking—the whitewashed buildings glowing against the deep blue of the sea—but it’s nothing compared to the way Tony looks at you across the table.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says out of nowhere, his voice quiet but earnest.

You reach across the table to take his hand. “You’re wrong. We deserve each other.”

He smiles, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You’re too good for me, you know that?”

“And you’re too hard on yourself,” you counter, leaning forward to press a kiss to his hand.

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm—one that feels like the way things used to be, before the fights and the distance. He’s not perfect—there are days when he slips back into his old habits, disappearing into the lab for hours—but he always makes up for it.

He surprises you with breakfast in bed, takes you on spontaneous dates, and even sits through a rom-com marathon with you, groaning dramatically every time a character makes a clichéd speech.

“I can’t believe people watch this stuff voluntarily,” he grumbles during one particularly cheesy scene, but the way he keeps sneaking glances at you suggests he’s enjoying it more than he lets on.

It’s not just about making up for lost time—it’s about creating new memories, new traditions, new reasons to fall in love with each other all over again.

And every time he holds your hand or whispers something ridiculous in your ear to make you laugh, you’re reminded of why you fell in love with him in the first place.

He’s Tony Stark—brilliant, infuriating, impossible Tony Stark. And as much as he drives you crazy sometimes, he’s also the man who loves you with every fiber of his being, the man who would move heaven and earth to make you happy.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[bennie-jerry]

My Beef with Wanda Maximoff - An MCU Rant

Sorry not sorry, I will ride the Wanda-ain't-shiitake train till the wheels are worn out. I do not care what her fangirls say. And if you're legitimately going to be so overly offended just from me disliking a FICTIONAL character, I highly suggest you click off, make some tea, and watch a Ghibli movie.

How many times does it need to be said? Just because someone suffers from some form of (small or big) trauma, IT DOESN’T GIVE THEM A PASS TO DO EVIL SH—

I really REALLY sincerely hope there's lore or bits I'm missing here (and if so, PLEASE tell me because I WANT to be wrong so BAD). But from what I know and remember, I feel as though I have every right to be disgusted with who Wanda is as a person.

It frustrates me so much how this carmine-colored narcissist will whine about people being scared of her, but she does stuff only a scary person WOULD do.

Purposefully setting the Hulk off so you could use him as a wrecking ball on innocent civilians in Johannesburg during Age of Ultron? Seems scary as heck.

Literally warping the universe itself to hunt and kill a teenager who did nothing to you during Multiverse of Madness? Seems scary as heck.

Brainwashing an ENTIRE town JUST so you can live in delusion about your man not being dead during Wandavision? Seems DOUBLE scary as heck.

Don't even try to defend what she did in Age of Ultron. Even if she supposedly didn't INTEND to have civilians killed, she sure as HECK didn't seem all too sorry that it happened. She wasn't ‘regretful’ that she did it. She was only ‘regretful' when Bruce confronted her on it. She has the nerve (the utter AUDACITY) to hate Tony Stark for the same CRAP that she does (if not worse, which let's be honest—it’s worse).

At least Tony Stark DIED out of an effort to save everyone, whereas Wanda usually tends to only help others when it benefits HER.

Wanda is nothing more than a Multiversal brat with a god-complex and no one can tell me otherwise. If something does not go 100% her way, she completely acts out and throws a reality-warping tantrum.

“Oh, but she tried to fix everything in Wandavision!”

Yeah, only after finding out she was BRAINWASHING people!

How the FREAK do you reality warp an ENTIRE town (especially at the large radius she used her magic) and expect NO one to be under mind control? Would you NOT try to fly around the premises to see if ANYONE else was there?

Once again, even if this was an example where she didn't INTEND for it to happen, then that proves another great flaw that she has.

Wanda hardly (if ever) thinks through her actions. And then when her actions bite her in the butt, she has the nerve to be surprised. Wanda almost never (and I'm being generous here) considers how her actions harm or affect others until it turns around and affects HER.

She did not deserve Vision, he was too good of a man for her, sorry not sorry.

Just the stuff she did BEFORE Multiverse of Madness ALONE is enough to not like her.

Let's not even get into the fact she never ACTUALLY apologized to Bruce Banner for everything she put him through. All she said at most when he confronted her is, “I know you're angry…”

Oh wow, REALLY? I couldn't POSSIBLY understand why Banner would EVER be angry at you for essentially brain-raping him (going into his mind and memories without his CONSENT) and using his worst fears against him to trigger Hulk so you could use him like a personal killing machine, further lessening the very few support systems he already HAD. She should feel grateful Banner didn't immediately throw her through a wall upon seeing her.

“But she became an avenger and helped them in Endgame!”

I could not give less of a DOOKIE about the fact she did that. Wanda fighting Thanos was literally the ONLY option she possibly had if she didn't wanna turn into dust along with the other half of the population. Sure, she also did it because she was forced to kill her boo BECAUSE of Thanos, but let's be honest—she would've had to fight him regardless. Her handing Thanos’ butt to him (while a very cool scene) doesn't prove JACK about her character.

The fact she ever BECAME an avenger after effectively traumatizing the MAJORITY of them is mind-boggling to me.

“Oh, I'm sorry I weaponized all of your traumas against you for my own personal gain because I wanted to work with a genocidal robot, can I join you guys?”

“Sure, Wanda! Come into the team and we'll pretend like you didn't do a darn thing!”

(The fact this isn't even ALL that she's done is absurd, I can still keep going—)

Don't even get me STARTED on Multiverse of Madness. And before anyone tries to say, “She did it so she could have a reality with her children!”

BRO, HER KIDS WEREN'T EVEN FREAKING REAL—

Wanda Freaking Maximoff wanted to murder a TEENAGER all for some children that were not even ACTUAL people. And when she did have them, didn't she make them FIGHT against the military in Wandavision or am I mistaken (which I VERY MUCH hope I am because what the he---)?

I do not care whatsoever what her reason is or what trauma she went through. Attempted murder of a minor (ESPECIALLY in this case, a minor who didn't even do anything) is inexcusable to me.

There is no way in frog fingers you guys are ACTUALLY trying to justify and/or downplay a grown ADULT trying to murder a CHILD (because that's what America was—a CHILD).

(Her and Miguel O'Hara would get along GREAT, when's the collab--)

And by then, she had ALREADY brutally murdered a whole bunch of people and probably corrupted the multiverse even FURTHER than she already had.

It wasn't until an ALTERNATE version of her (who ACTUALLY had her kids) told her to sit the [BLEEP] down (I'm paraphrasing here, but you get my drift).

Wanda is NOT a victim. Is she a good villain? Yes. But this witch isn't a victim. Not anymore at least. She doesn't apologize for her actions. She doesn't take responsibility. She doesn't reflect on what she does.

And even when she DOES finally do ANY of those things in ANY capacity, the damage is already done. In fact, it's not JUST done, it's also BURNT inside the oven causing smoke to go everywhere.

There is no rhyme or reason you could pull out that will convince me to be anything short of angry with this character and I'm so tired of her fans trying to defend her just because she was a lab rat and lost her man.

Once again, it's not bad to like a character that does awful stuff. But please, for sanity sake, STOP acting like they're a lost little angel BECAUSE you like them. I know they say "hurt people hurt people" but that still doesn't justify doing bad stuff just because bad things happened to YOU.

[under0-0s]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

______________________________________________________________

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 30 – FIX-IT

The abyss by amaryllis (Lillyo)

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 917 Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Tony, Protective Steve

Summary: It's his biggest nightmare. He falls, wakes up... and is the only survivor. In nights like these it's Steve who catches him and brings him back to light.

Reasons why I love it: The love Steve feels for Tony is so palpable in this one, it's amazing. This fic conveys so much emotion, and I love how Steve takes care of Tony, it's super sweet to see. Go and check this one out if you haven't, I'm sure you'll love it just as much as I do!

from you, me by seadawnknight

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: NR Words: 2,261 Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Grief, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: This is how it starts: with Steve holding the weight of the world on his shoulders, mourning three and a half billion lives he couldn’t save. This is not how it ends.

Reasons why I love it: This fic is breathtakingly beautiful. The writing style feels like poetry, it flows so well, and the non-linear storytelling is absolutely spectacular. I can't believe how underrated this fic is, so I really hope that you go and check it out, because it deserves all the love in the world!

It Hurts Like Hell by agathaharknness

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 3,755 Tags: Angst and Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Endgame

Summary: Carol Danvers is Steve's only hope to see Tony again. If he's alive.

Reasons why I love it: This fic fits so seamlessly into canon it's like it was cut from the movies. The angst is so raw, and I really love Steve's inner monologue throughout all of it. And of course, the hopeful ending is absolutely beautiful. I love this fic, and I bet you will too!

What If... by Starlitverses

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: G Words: 5,623 Tags: Multiverse, Steve & Morgan, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: ‘There must be a world somewhere, where the snap or your fight or any of the things that led us here didn’t happen. Maybe everything would change.’ Steve goes back in time to return the stones. On his way, he changes a few events in certain times to make sure they end better than his own timeline. A different world where thanos never attack, where the snap doesn’t happen. A world where Tony Stark survives. A world where Steve and Tony fall in love.

Reasons why I love it: Aaaah, this is so sweet! I especially loved Natasha here, she's such a badass. Those branching timelines are super interesting, it's so cool how each of them plays out. And the ending is amazing, the exact kind of bittersweet that I adore. Please go and read this one, it's so good!

Conductivity by felisnocturna

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 4,243 Tags: Angst, Open Ending, Grief

Summary: The train taking Tony to California breaks down in the seemingly abandoned ghost town of Timely. Or: After Steve's death on the courthouse steps, Tony is about to witness another tragedy. This time, he sees it coming, but even that might not change anything - not least because he is pretty sure that it's all just a hallucination.

Reasons why I love it: This is such a cool idea for a multiversal crossover! I love how 616 canon and 1872 canon play off each other here, I'd read a million more words in this universe. And I really enjoyed the role reversal and the angst that comes with it, it's super well-written. Definitely check this one out, it's fantastic!

[v-67]

Alright so, I stopped watching most of the Marvel after endgame because they were screwing some of it up and nothing felt right

I did watch Moon knight, and ofcourse the Spiderman movies, and the latest, the Deadpool and Wolverine movie.

The whole introduction of TVA frustrated me.

And the implication that Deadpool's universe was going to be doomed, but later on as he saves a bunch of multiverse he somehow manages to save his universe from getting broken.

And the people who are supposedly managing the TVA are surprised as well.

So does that in any way signify. That out of those gazillion fucking universes, and of every possibility everywhere, that Tony stark could've somehow made it out alive. The one which was in our universe.

If there's even a slight possibility, which was somehow not considered because of any stupid reasons. Then it kinda breaks my heart.

I mean, I'm not really complaining because it was a definitive end to an amazing timeline, and an absolutely amazing character. But a part of me always hoped that Tony got to live a long life, with Potts and Morgan. And that he saw Morgan grow up. And also that he got to spend some time with Peter.

He deserved to live you know.

Also this multiple timeline shit is super annoying.

Dr. Doom. As much as it frustrates me, and as much as I'm annoyed, I'm also just 0.001 percent intrigued.

The possibility of how Tony, the saviour in one universe ends up as Dr. Doom in another.

I have really mixed feelings regarding the whole multiverse thing.

But TVA? I hate that. So much. Some beings managing or overlooking these numerous universes gives me the whole matrix vibes. And it's just : Nope.

Second post because I had made two notes so eh. Here it goes.

[maedelin]

Negative Romys (bc I know there must be chill ones out there) @ Roguneto in Xmen 97: “NOOOOOO HOW COULD THE WRITERS DO THIS AND DESTROY ROGUE X REMY?! POOR GAMBIT!!!”

Me: *side-eying all of the Marvel material that clearly shows that Romy content severely outnumbering Roguneto content by a landslide and the same Roguneto content winding up being ruined anyway by later writers just because they can* “Ah, yes…poor Gambit…”

All jokes aside, I wonder if the Romys’ concern is that if Roguneto is positively received = somehow becoming canon in the comics later? Because I know Marvel (and DC) has a history of taking a few things that the movies/shows/ side comics have done that were well received by fans or were anticipated to be well received ahead of time by fans and sometimes the companies themselves and incorporating them into the comics later

(ex. X-23 from X-Men Evolution to actual comics, Tony Stark’s personality eventually just becoming Robert Downey Jr as a comic book character, Samuel Jackson!Nick Fury from Ultimate Marvel to MCU to secret son of original Nick Fury and goes by the same name, Magneto’s Helmet protecting him from telepathy in Xmen First Class Movie to comics, Comic!Rogue’s real first name being a combination of her movie self’s name and that actress’s first name, Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver not being related to Magneto after all bc their movie selves weren’t, Gwen Stacy’s fun alternative existence as Spider-Gwen/Woman , Miles Morales’s (yay!) existence, Tom Hiddleston’s portrayal of Loki influencing the comic version of him to become a sad little meow meow, Age of Apocalypse’s version of Changling/Morph being brought into X-Men 97, etc)

, but if one truly counts all of the slight/significant changes Marvel Comics have made to the main timeline because of other material, it’s REALLY not a lot.

There’s no need for anyone who ships Romy (which I also ship in addition to Roguneto bc yay multishipping!) to feel threatened by potential romantic alternatives.

And just in case the romantic ships might be altered after all (not likely): if the Multiverse is a thing, maybe we consider it’s not the end of the world if the relationships in the X-Men animated universe is not 100% going to follow how they played out in the comics.

ALSO also, when all else fails, they can just develop their writing/art skills and make fix-it aus 😆

The chaotic neutral part of me actually kinda still hopes that enough people with get on board with Roguneto though so that the comics will see the enthusiasm for them and bring them back in the main universe and shake things up again or in one of the official alternate universes and give them the love and respect the pairing deserves 🤪

I really appreciate your comments. I suppose there could be concerns from the Romy contingent regarding this. Sadly, I think at this point corporate IP is too dedicated to keeping the status quo maintained as it is for the longest time.

I agree with you, I see her relationship with Magneto as brief trysts in the mainstream universe, and an occasional AU marriage reveal. I think that Rogue and Gambit will remain a couple in the mainstream universe despite this current twist in the '97 series. There's too much time and money spent into the material, merchandise, and story that's been built for Romy in reality across various media, and in the perception of people's memories which sometimes have a rosy nostalgic glow. It takes a lot to re-educate an audience and I don't see corporations having that time and patience.

Jean and Scott will always remain together. Meggan and Brian are a duo for all time. Sue and Reed Richards are going to stay married.

No matter what, the story will always return to that. In this reboot, I think it's to give Magneto an extra angle and further reason to stay at the mansion if you leave in doubt his and Rogue's activities on and off camera.

I think my biggest complaint is how there's a circling of the wagons around Rogue when anyone (but particularly Magneto) is interested in her. It frustrates me because I believe characters should experience a lot of different relationships. It builds for a more well rounded person in reality, and a better character in the story. But with Rogue, why isn't she allowed to have other romantic encounters? Why must there be a strange arguments about age, about experience? These are traumatized beautiful people with fancy abilities in a soap opera. With capes. (And occasional opera gloves)

In short, I believe that instead of one ship, a character deserves an armada. I agree, alternate universe pairings would be fun too!

I too enjoy drama and can't wait to see how the show plays out this romance.

[delulu-with-wandanat]

Two Worlds Apart

Another song that has been stuck in my head- (this is also sort of a continuation) anyway idk if this counts as angst but ay its sad shit ig

‘Corrupted’ Wanda x ‘Earth 77’ Natasha

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Summary: After losing Natasha, Wanda ventured across the multiverse to find her lover. She found Earth-77. She decided to kidnap Earth-77 Natasha and brought her back to her own Universe, but like they said. You fuck around with the Universe, it’ll find a way to bite you back in the ass.

"Wanda, I have to return to my own universe." The incursion of her presence cause too much havoc. The environment surrounding them were breaking in ways they could have never imagined.

"Natasha, I can't... don't make me do this."

"You have too, moya lyubov. Look around!" The sky looked liked it was tearing itself apart, buildings collapsing, people disintegrating out of existance. "I don't belong here, Wanda. You have to return me-"

"NO-" The Scarlet Witch side of Wanda seemed to have returned for a split second, Natasha had to be careful with her words.

For the last couple of weeks Natasha was able to reduce the corruption that the darkhold had against Wanda. Slowly, but surely, Wanda was returning to her old self. The sweet, kind, gentle and loving Wanda Maximoff that Natasha once knew. Sure this was a variant of her Wanda, but they share a lot of similarities.

"A portion of my breath flew away with you the night you died. These past few weeks with you… was the first time I could properly breathe again. Please, don’t take this away from me.”

Natasha understood her pain, she truly does. As in her Universe, she had lost her Wanda. “When you left me that night, I put the blame on myself.” Natasha clenched her jaw as tears starts to pool in her eyes. “Believe me when I say I want nothing more than to stay here with you and be in your arms again. To have the life we always talked about.”

“And we could have that, Natalia.” Wanda pushed once more.

“Wanda we can’t-“

“Why not?” She asked rather coldly. The Scarlet Witch seems to have wrapped around her once again.

“My love please, I know you would never go through this willingly-”

“Am I wrong, for not being the same person I was before?” Natasha went silent at the eerie contrast of Wanda’s variant, and the Wanda she once knew. The one who sacrificed herself for the soul stone in Vormir.

“For wanting what I rightfully deserve? Everyone gets a happy ending, Steve returned to his lover in the past. Clint was reunited with his family… And I returned to nobody.” Wanda swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Your body was rotting on Vormir. And no one even bothered to held a funeral for you just because they were preoccupied with Tony Stark who snapped his little fingers.”

In Natasha’s universe, Wanda hadn’t gone snapped. During those 5 years they had build a life together. The significant difference between their lost was Wanda had not only lost Natasha, but also the time with her.

“Wanda…”

“You’ll destroy me if you leave.” Wanda whispered. Her lips were quivering and her breath was uneven.

“You are my goddess, Wanda.”

“Then come back to me, bring back a fraction of the breath you take because I can’t live another day where you are not near.”

-The song-

I think this song talks about a lover that broke up and the other still wants them back. It's a little different to this fic but meh it works. (I may be trying to gtfo of this country, but goddamn do we make great sad ass songs😩🤌)

Separuh Nafas - Dewa 19

Original lyrics: Separuh nafasku Terbang bersama dirimu Saat kau tinggalkanku Salahkanku Salahkah aku Bila aku bukanlah Seperti aku yang dahulu Kau hancurkan diriku Bila kau tinggalkan aku Kau dewiku Kembalilah padaku Bawa separuh nafasku Kau dewiku

Translated lyrics: A portion of my breath Flew away with you When you left me Put the blame on me Am I wrong If I'm not the same person as I used to be You'll break me If you leave me You are my goddess Come back to me Bring back a fraction of my breath You are my goddess

[cevans-is-classic]

I wrote two pieces to the song "Work Song" by Hozier.

This is the first.

18+ only. Sexual content, alcoholism, blood play.

Masterpost

Marvel

Tony reaches for Steve, digging his fingers in until the skin beneath bleeds. 

Steve keeps moving, head thrown back, chin tilted to the moldy ceiling. 

He feels everything  

The hair of Steve's legs scratching his arm, the heat of him around his cock. His hands feel like fire touching the golden shine of his skin 

If there are words, languages, spread across the multiverse that describe Steve Rogers? Tony would give his blood, heart, and soul to speak those words right now. 

He can’t. 

Nothing pushes past his teeth because Tony sold his soul for Steve decades ago. 

He has always been Steve’s. 

Steve gasps, “Tony.” 

His hand wraps around his cock, fucking into it as rocks his forward. He thumbs over the slit, dribbling out, smearing.  Steve jerks himself swiftly.

Tony craves Steve. 

He needs to press his lips to the sweaty sheen of his neck and bite.

“Tony.” Steve whimpers. Cock drooling, hips rolling over him one snap, two snap.

His mouth drops open, eyes falling to watch himself. 

He matches the rhythm, dropping on his cock, rocking back before jolting forward and twitching in his hand.

A hiss rips from between Steve teeth and he drops his hand, steadying himself on Tony's chest as he shudders. 

Tony's brain fills with static, blood rushing in his ears as he pushes at the mattress. Sliding from beneath Steve to push at his hips. He feels the length of Steve's leg and hooks it over his hips as he slides Steve backwards.

He goes willingly. 

His mouth red and swollen, spit coats his lips — tongue swiping out over his bottom lip. 

His eyes are dark.

His jaw trembles as he bares his throat and rolls his head back.

Tears fell to his cheeks. 

Tony shifts between Steve’s legs cooing at him when he pulls his cock out and Steve whimpers. 

“Tony-” He catches Steve in a kiss, sliding his cock back inside with a single thrust. 

Steve cries out his other leg hooking over waist. He rolls his hips to drop himself onto Tony’s cock. 

He grunts, baring his teeth watching Tony fuck into him. 

There’s nothing but the sound of breathing and slapping skin. 

Steve watches, reaching down to feel where Tony pushes into him. 

It makes Tony's knees shake, his heart thudding rapidly. Steve wraps his fingers around Tony's cock and holds it. Squeezing when Tony pulls out, rubbing his rim as Tony shoves back in. 

Steve wraps an arm around Tony's neck. “Mine,” he bites at his ear. 

Tony's head swims, chest aching for breath. He feels drunk, feverish where Steve mouths as his neck and matches his thrusts.

“Mine.” Steve slides his hand into Tony’s hair and pulls.

Tony gasps. Steve's legs lock at the small of his back. His heels digging into Tony's ass. 

“Yours.” Tony collapses, falling into himself, feeling the truth surrounding him in a shattering spray of pleasure. “I'm yours.”

Steve pulls his hair back, mouthing up his throat. He pushes at Tony's ass, pushing his hips forward, rocking them into rhythm.

Nothing could have prepared Tony Stark for the force that is Steve Rogers.

Looking to the left his eyes fall on the shield. Leaning against the wall, resting there. The blood staining The lip of it — the white star covered in marks. 

He belongs to Steve. 

He doesn't deserve him. 

He feels Steve’s thighs tighten, his finger pulling Tony's hair hard enough he whimpers, “I'm yours.” 

His stomach drops, body buzzing as he snaps his hips forward.

Steve drags him into a kiss, licking his name from Tony's tongue.

There is nothing sweeter than Steve Rogers moaning into your mouth. Their bodies moving together, skin heated to the touch. The sheets stuck to them, tangling them closer together. 

A crack snapped his hips forward and Tony saw the frame of the bed splintered beneath Steve's hand. Pieces of wood dug into the flesh, blood dripping down his palm.

Tony grabs the bleeding hand and twines their fingers together.

“I shouldn't be.” He breaks, a sob tearing from his chest.

Steve shushes him, a slow rock of his head, “My baby,” His fingers tighten around his. He watches the blood paint their skin. 

“My Tony.” Steve gasps, jerks beneath him. “Nothing you do could keep me away.” 

He sobs louder, moving faster, holding Steve's hips higher until the man screams his name. 

Wet heat spreads between their bodies, Steve's body undulating,  twitching beneath him.

Tony waits, his thighs tense, his balls pulled taut.

Steve is bleeding, crying, his hand touching Tony's face, dripping blood onto his lips.

“I'll always come back to you.” Tony breathes the words against Steve's lips and cries out. 

Bloody fingers card through his hair, touch his cheek, his neck. 

He hopes the blood leaves a stain. 

-

His head rolls to the side. Body trembling. His mouth is dry, and his tongue is stuck to the roof of it. A heaviness in his head weighs him down.

It doesn’t stop the room from spinning, stomach twisting violently. He throws himself over the bed and gags.

A scream rips from his throat when Steve pulls him back. Touching him, curling his fingers around his arm. 

His lips were a fiery brand against his ear 

“Shh.” Stron hand draws him back to him. A soft shush and sweet nothings murmured into his ear. 

Tony shivers, body racked with painful jolts. A sick feeling burns in his stomach, acidic, slashing through his body.

He knows he's covered in blood. It paints his face, dries along his temple, and sticks their chests together.

“Shhh.” Lips brush over his cheek. “It's not real.” He knows that voice. 

He'll always know that voice. 

“Steve.” 

“I'm here, Tony.” A cool rag wipes across his collar bones. His thigh slides between Tony's legs. His body molds Tony's as he cleans his chest.

“You're okay now.” Steve breathes out, tickling the back of his neck.

When had he come home?

Steve squeezes the rag and drops it. 

He'd been sober. 

Then he wasn't. 

And he couldn't get to his suit because he couldn't stop drinking. 

“You're okay.” Steve wraps his arm around Tony's middle. “I've got you.”

[bucky-h0e]

Bucky Barnes: ex-Winter Soldier, now DILF. | Universe Masterlist

Biological Child! Alpine and Bucky. Loosely follows The Falcon and The Winter Soldier with some minor (major) changes.

James Buchanan Barnes is no longer the Winter Soldier. Steve Rogers is considering retirement. Tony Stark is retired and expecting a second child. Natasha Romanoff is on a well deserved holiday. The World has not ended. Finally, Bucky can begin the journey to find himself once more. The same self that used to be quite the ladies man, not that he was complaining. Of course, that is until an mildly annoyed woman knocks on his door with a positive pregnancy test makes him realise just how much the super-soldier serum had affected his body and DNA.

~

Includes: Bucky gets a woman pregnant literally first try by accident, Sam being a menace, Steve didn't go back, Tony and Nat are alive, Loki is there somewhere too, Bucky has a family, the fucking cutest shit you've ever read (hopefully) Baby Alpine because she is a warning, Bucky's grumpy ass painting a soft baby pink wall, girl-dad Bucky and Tony bonding, Peter Parker and Morgan Stark being older siblings to Alpine

~

This is NOT a Romance/Shipping fic!

Part of the 'Many Adventures of Bucky and Alpine' Multiverse.

Each part will have it's own warnings.

Requests are Open

~

Masterlist

Bucky Finds Out He's Going To Be A Dad

[csolarstorm]

RDJ as Doctor Doom: More Thoughts

So even though I think casting RDJ as Victor Von Doom was the wrong move, I should still clarify that I'm still looking forward to it. It's a very interesting choice. Rather than just bringing back Iron Man, they are trying something new with RDJ, which makes it seem a bit less desperate or forced.

The biggest problem of course is that with RDJ as Doom, they pretty much can't give Doom the screen time he deserves. RDJ is too expensive to keep around past Secret Wars. And any version of Doom that lasts past the reboot will be overshadowed by RDJ.

But I think I have a solution to this. They should do what they did with Spider-man. In No Way Home, they used a climactic multiversal event to establish the MCU Spider-Man's new origin story. In this timeline, it is Aunt May who dies after giving Peter the "with great responsibility line'. The entirety of Doomsday and Secret Wars should BE Doom's origin story.

A lot of people think it's unlikely that RDJ will always wear the mask like Doom, because otherwise why pay for RDJ's face? Half the budget of the movie wouldn't be worth a few face reveals and some voice acting and gestures. Plus the whole Toby Stark gimmick relies on the old Avengers characters regularly seeing Stark's face when they look at Doom.

And even though RDJ did say "new mask, same task" that's probably a reference to new armor. Victor Von Doom has taken the Iron Man role several times. But armor comes off all the time - not like Doom's mask.

So, here's what should happen. When this Victor Von Doom arrives to cause trouble, he has an armor suit eerily similar to Tony Stark's, only it's green and the mask resembles Doom's traditional mask. Only, this Doom takes it off whenever he's not fighting. Seeing Stark's face shocks the Avengers, and we have all the necessary character moments with Peter Park, Bruce Banner, etc. In fact, this Doom can be all about his relationship with the Avengers. There's no need to worry about establishing a rivalry with Reed Richards until the end of Secret Wars.

Because at the end of Secret Wars, it's Reed Richards who will somehow defeat Doom, and in the process he'll disfigure his face, causing Doom to wear the mask from his armor to hide his shame. Perhaps the mask even gets fused to his face - or even the whole armor gets fused to his body, and he wears the green cloak over to hide it out of embarassment. And this is what starts the rivalry between Victor Von Doom and Reed Richards.

And after that, with Doom no longer showing his face - they can easily hire someone else to play him after Secret Wars. It even provides a reason for his voice to sound different. Doom will have plenty of time to antagonize Reed Richards in Fantastic Four 2 and 3, and in this scenario they can keep the character around as long as they want as long as they just keep switching out actors under the mask. He could be the new Loki.

If they go this route, I think it might be the best of both worlds: cash out on nostalgia AND develop popular new characters that can sustain the future of the franchise.

Or they just kill him off after Secret Wars and leave future movies to deal with the lack of Fantastic Four's archnemesis. Either way.

[hellyeahheroes]

Miles Morales: Spider-Man (2022) review 1-5

Okay, Cody Ziglar, now you have my attention.

Alright, Cody Ziglar, the first Black main writer of Miles Morales’ comic(not to disrespect Bryan Edward Hill but he only wrote one annual and it was bad), had a dubious honor of following Saladin Ahmed in writing Miles Morales. Just to sum it up, Ahmed’s strengths were that he greatly expanded on the supporting cast and rogues of Miles while giving Miles’ characterization that is more in line with Spider-verse. He modeled his writing after Romita’s run of Amazing Spider-Man that followed Ditko. His flaws were that he failed to actually commit to things in the end as he quickly dumped all of his work in expanding said supporting cast the moment his Creator’s Pet Starling comes around and it becomes all about Clones and Multiverse. After a strong start, Ahmed’s run came to a weak and disappointing end.

Now it’s Ziglar’s turn and I heard ramblings that he wanted Miles to be more around street level black heroes like Misty Knight because they operate differently than the white heroes and don’t have the same privileges. Compare Blue Marvel to Tony Stark and you see what he’s talking about. Anyways, Cody starts his run making parallels to Miles’ Irresponsible Destructive Savior tendencies and his lack of appreciation for his opportunity at Brooklyn Visions Academy.

Miles is being criticized, perhaps unfairly, on both aspects. On one hand, Agent Gao can point out all of the destruction Miles “caused” but if you reread the issue, you will find that most of the damage was caused by Scorpion prior to Miles arriving to the scene and saving that girl, which said girl ends up being wildly important later on. His teacher scolds Miles for being unappreciative of his opportunity that he feels Miles is squandering overlooking the fact that Miles won a lottery to a charter school that is taking funding from underfunded public schools.

So Miles is being attacked by an overly funded police force that loves persecuting vigilantes, especially people of color, and a school system that takes kids from their communities and places them in boarding schools. Both take funding from public schools that, if properly funded at the same level as Brooklyn Visions, could have avoided the future problem that happens in this arc.

Miles’ won that lottery because his lucky number 42 was called. But what happened to the others balls? What happened to 41?

This is Raneem Rashad. Number 41. And she really needed that spot at Brooklyn Visions Academy. And the girl Miles saved in the beginning of the first issue.

Raneem lost her parents who were immigrants from Jordan. She was poor yet gifted and had to enter a school system that didn’t challenge nor uphold her. Her mother died because of inadequate healthcare that failed to catch an ailment on time. And her father’s last lament was for his daughter, his greatest gift, would be saved from the struggle of poverty.

Whoops!

Now Raneem blames Miles taking what she feels was her opportunity. Now you can say that her angry is misdirected, but the narrative is very much aware of that. Both Starling and Miles point out the flaw in her justification. Why be mad at Miles when she could be mad at the fucked up system? That’s not the point of Raneem Rashad aka Rabble. When Bendis watched Waiting For Superman, he was inspired to make that part of Miles’ origin. Miles origin is not propaganda for Charter Schools, Private Schools, or Advance Placement Schools *cough* Spider-Man MCU *cough*. It’s a deconstruction of and a social commentary on it. Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse isn’t saying Charter schools are awesome. It’s pointing out the alienation Miles feels attending such institutions. And Raneem is now asking the audience the important question that do these kids who did not win deserve to be left off? They are gifted too. Just as if not more so than Miles. And should Miles be forced to carry the burden of the American Education System inadequacy just because he won a lottery?

While Saladin explored how a school system targets students of color like Miles with characters like Assistant Principal Dutcher and Sean, Cody is looking at the systemic impact of schools like Brooklyn Visions through Raneem. And it’s fantastic. It’s all fantastic.

As for the character herself, Raneem Rashad is Miles Morales’ narrative foil. That is his forever enemy. A true Spider-Man Classic villain throwback. While Bruce Wayne’s rogues spiraled into mental health caricatures, Spider-Man’s rogues has always been about unchecked corruption from the top filtering to the masses. There are levels to Spider-Man villains. You have guys like Sandman and Rhino who are down on their luck or you have folks that have been spurned or sleighted by higher institutions like Doc Ock and Vulture. Then you have Norman Osborn or Wilson Fisk. Raneem is a little column A and Column B. What makes her special that she is specifically a Miles Morales Spider-Man villain. Slott can’t just pluck her out and have a character that he’s writing embarrass her like he did the Assessor.

Rabble is a Miles Morales classic that is so specific to Miles that it would be highway robbery to pair her with someone else(not that it would stop Tom Holland’s Spider-Man from trying).

You can’t replicate this animosity.

And yeah. I mess with it.

Cody, just like Ahmed was, is the right choice to helm this comic because Cody is,not meant as a pejorative, woke. The art is fantastic which is expected from Federico Vincentini and colors Bryan Valenza. This isn’t Federico’s first time drawing in a Miles Morales comic as he was also behind the Absolute Carnage: Miles Morales mini so it’s nice that his chaotic and frantic style was given some room to explode on the page.

My only critique is that this arc should have at least highlighted Miles other supporting cast that goes beyond Ganke Lee and Miles’ immediate family. Barbara Rodriguez, Judge, Sean, and etc. but otherwise, BRAVO, Cody Ziglar. I look forward to your future additions to this run.

@ubernegro

[amethystarachnid]

This "Stark Protocol" Tony NEEDS a baby 😍 (or two, a boy and a girl 👀). Is there any possibility of a part 2 of this fanfic?

STARK PROTOCOL - part II

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

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

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Part I

ᯓ★ Word count: 7k

ᯓ★ Summary: just when you thought tony's protectiveness couldn't get higher you discover you're pregnant. with twins. Stark twins means chaos.

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing, just one of the babies has a funny poop accident at the end lol

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

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

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

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The discovery hits you on an ordinary Tuesday morning. You’re sitting on the edge of the bathroom tub, staring at the small plastic stick in your hand. The two faint lines staring back at you feel surreal, as if the moment hasn’t quite caught up with reality. Your heart pounds in your chest, a mix of excitement, shock, and nervous energy coursing through you all at once.

You glance at the test again, as though repeated checks might somehow change the outcome. Positive. You’re pregnant.

A quiet laugh escapes you, tinged with disbelief. You’re going to have a baby. Memories of that night with Tony—the jokes about his overprotectiveness, his not-so-secret admission that he wouldn’t mind having a child with you—rush back, making you grin despite your nerves.

Your first instinct is to tell him immediately, but then you hesitate. This isn’t just any news; this is life-changing, monumental news. Tony deserves to hear it in a way that matches the moment. Something fun. Something unexpected. Something… Stark-level spectacular.

The gears in your mind begin to turn.

You spend the next couple of days meticulously planning, waiting for the right moment to put your plan into action. Tony, blissfully unaware, goes about his usual business, alternating between tinkering in the lab and pampering you like he always does. He doesn’t notice the sly glances you throw his way or the way you seem to be hiding something behind that radiant smile.

When the weekend arrives, you finally set your plan in motion.

The first step is simple: get him out of the penthouse for a few hours. “Why don’t you head to the lab today?” you suggest casually over breakfast, nudging his plate toward him. “I know you’ve been working on that new design.”

Tony narrows his eyes at you suspiciously, a piece of toast halfway to his mouth. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Of course not,” you reply smoothly, though you can feel the corners of your mouth twitching with amusement. “I just thought you’d enjoy some uninterrupted tinkering time.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced, but ultimately relents. “Alright, but if I find out you’ve thrown some kind of surprise party in my absence…”

You laugh, waving him off. “Go. Have fun.”

As soon as he’s out the door, you spring into action. The decorations you secretly ordered arrive right on time, and you work quickly to transform the living room. Balloons, banners, and a smattering of baby-themed decorations fill the space, all in neutral colors because, of course, you don’t know the gender yet.

The pièce de résistance is a large box you’ve prepared, carefully decorated and filled with items that will clue Tony in on the big surprise. Inside are baby-sized Iron Man onesies, a pair of tiny booties, a framed sonogram picture you printed at the clinic, and a note that reads: “Stark Protocol: Initiated. ETA: Nine Months.”

You set the box on the coffee table and step back to admire your work. It’s perfect.

When Tony finally returns that afternoon, the moment is ripe for chaos. He walks through the door, his usual smirk in place, but it falters the second he spots the decorations.

“What… is this?” he asks, his eyes darting around the room as he sets his bag down.

You step forward, barely able to contain your excitement. “I thought it was time for a little celebration,” you say, keeping your tone light.

His gaze falls on the box, and curiosity overtakes his initial confusion. “Alright, what’s in the mystery box? This better not be a puppy. You remember what happened last time.”

You laugh, motioning for him to open it. “Just open it, Stark.”

He crosses the room and kneels in front of the box, shooting you a playful glance before lifting the lid. The sight of the onesies stops him in his tracks. He picks one up, holding it between his fingers as though it might evaporate if he isn’t careful. His brows furrow in confusion as he pulls out the tiny booties next, followed by the sonogram picture.

It’s the note, however, that seals the deal.

“Stark Protocol… ETA nine months…” he reads aloud, his voice trailing off. He freezes, and for a moment, you can’t tell if he’s pieced it together. Then, slowly, he looks up at you, his eyes wide.

“Wait. Are you…?”

You nod, your grin widening. “Surprise!”

Tony stares at you for a beat, and then his expression transforms into something you’ve only seen a handful of times. Pure, unfiltered joy spreads across his face as he drops everything back into the box and crosses the room in two strides. He scoops you up into his arms, spinning you around as laughter bubbles out of him.

“Holy— You’re pregnant? We’re having a baby?”

“Yes, Tony,” you say through your laughter, wrapping your arms around his neck. “We’re having a baby.”

When he finally sets you down, his hands remain on your waist, his eyes scanning your face as though trying to commit every detail of this moment to memory. “I can’t believe it,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. “This is—wow. Just wow.”

You chuckle, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “You’re okay with this, right? I mean, we didn’t exactly plan—”

“Okay with it?” he interrupts, his hands tightening their hold on you. “Sweetheart, I’m more than okay with it. I’m…” He pauses, seemingly at a loss for words, which is a rarity in itself. “I’m thrilled. Over the moon. I’m going to be a dad!”

His enthusiasm is contagious, and you can’t help but laugh again as he pulls you into another hug. “I’m glad you’re happy,” you whisper against his shoulder.

“Happy doesn’t even cover it,” he replies, pulling back to look at you. “You’re carrying the future Stark genius. I mean, this kid is going to be unstoppable.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart swells at his excitement. “Let’s just focus on getting through the next nine months first, okay?”

“Right, right,” he says, nodding eagerly. Then his expression turns serious, and you recognize the telltale signs of Stark Protocol kicking into high gear. “Okay, we need a plan. Prenatal vitamins—are you taking them? Of course you are. I’ll research the best ones. And doctors. We need to find the best OB-GYN in the city. Or the country. Hell, the world. And—”

“Tony,” you interrupt, placing a hand on his chest. “Breathe. We’ve got plenty of time to figure all of that out.”

He exhales sharply, his hands moving to cradle your face. “You’re right. I just—this is big, you know? I want to get it right.”

“You will,” you assure him, leaning into his touch. “We both will.”

The rest of the day is a whirlwind of emotions. Tony oscillates between giddy excitement and meticulous planning, his mind already racing with ideas for how to prepare. You catch him Googling everything from baby-proofing techniques to the latest advancements in stroller technology, and you can’t help but smile at his dedication.

As the evening winds down, the two of you sit on the couch, the box of baby items still sitting on the coffee table as a tangible reminder of what’s to come. Tony’s arm is draped around your shoulders, his other hand resting lightly on your stomach.

“So,” he says, his voice soft, “any idea when this little Stark will be making their grand entrance?”

“Late summer, I think,” you reply, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Perfect timing,” he says with a grin. “Just enough time for me to build a crib. Or a crib-slash-mini-lab. You know, gotta start them early.”

You laugh, swatting his chest lightly. “Let’s stick with a regular crib for now.”

“Fine,” he concedes, though you can tell he’s already plotting ways to make it the most high-tech crib on the planet.

As you sit there together, the reality of your new future begins to settle in. There’s still so much to plan, so much to figure out, but for now, you’re content to bask in the moment. With Tony by your side, you know you’re ready for whatever comes next.

And judging by the way he keeps sneaking glances at the sonogram picture, his excitement practically radiating off him, you’re pretty sure he’s ready too.

The transformation in Tony after your pregnancy announcement is nothing short of dramatic. If you thought his overprotectiveness during your period was over the top, it’s clear that was just a warm-up. Now that you’re pregnant, everything you do seems to fall under the Stark Protection Protocol.

From the moment you wake up to the time you go to bed, Tony is there, watching, questioning, and sometimes downright interfering. He’s taken to carrying a notebook around the penthouse to jot down random thoughts about your health, parenting ideas, or anything else he deems critical.

“You shouldn’t lift that,” he says one morning as you reach for a bag of groceries on the counter.

“Tony, it’s a loaf of bread,” you reply, deadpan.

“Still. Bread can be heavier than it looks.”

You roll your eyes but let him take it from you anyway. It’s not worth arguing, and besides, you can’t help but find his doting behavior endearing—if not slightly ridiculous.

His intensity only increases when it comes to what you eat. He’s banned caffeine from the house, stocked the fridge with every conceivable prenatal-friendly food, and personally oversees your meals.

“Sweetheart,” he says one night over dinner, his gaze narrowing as he eyes the slice of pizza on your plate. “You’re eating the crust? The carbs aren’t exactly—”

“Tony,” you interrupt, leveling him with a look. “It’s pizza. I’m pregnant, not on a diet.”

“Right,” he says quickly, holding up his hands in surrender. “Crust is great. Carbs are fantastic. You want more cheese? Extra cheese?”

Despite his over-the-top nature, it’s clear how much he cares. Every step of the way, he’s there, doing everything in his power to ensure you and the baby are safe and happy.

By the time you reach the third month, you’ve settled into a rhythm. Your energy is starting to return, the morning sickness has eased, and you’re finally beginning to feel like yourself again. Tony, however, remains as vigilant as ever.

When the day of your next doctor’s appointment arrives, Tony is practically vibrating with excitement. He insists on driving you himself, ignoring your protests that the clinic is only ten minutes away.

“You think I’m letting anyone else chauffeur you and Baby Stark?” he scoffs as he opens the car door for you.

“Technically, it’s Baby Stark Junior,” you tease as you slide into the seat.

He grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Even better.”

At the clinic, Tony sticks to your side like glue, his hand hovering protectively at your lower back as you check in. Once you’re settled in the examination room, he’s quick to start peppering the doctor with questions.

“How’s she doing? Everything looking good? Are there any new tests she needs? Oh, and what’s the best way to—”

“Tony,” you say, cutting him off with a laugh. “Let the doctor do her job.”

The doctor chuckles, clearly used to nervous dads. “Everything looks great so far,” she says reassuringly. “But let’s take a closer look, shall we?”

She gestures for you to lie back on the examination table. As the ultrasound machine hums to life, you reach for Tony’s hand, squeezing it gently. His eyes are glued to the screen, his expression a mix of awe and curiosity.

At first, everything seems routine. The doctor points out the embryo, noting its size and heartbeat. But then she frowns slightly, leaning closer to the monitor.

“Hmm,” she murmurs, adjusting the angle of the wand.

“What’s ‘hmm’?” Tony asks immediately, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong,” the doctor says quickly, her tone reassuring. “It’s just… give me a moment.”

The room falls silent as she continues to examine the screen. You glance at Tony, whose brow is furrowed in concern. Then the doctor’s face breaks into a smile.

“Well, this is a surprise,” she says, turning the screen toward you.

“What is it?” you ask, your heart thudding in your chest.

“There’s another embryo,” she says, pointing to a second, smaller shape on the screen. “It looks like you’re having twins.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. You stare at the monitor, trying to process the words. Twins.

Tony’s reaction is the first to break the silence. He lets out a stunned laugh, his free hand running through his hair. “Twins? Are you serious?”

“Very serious,” the doctor says, still smiling. “It’s not uncommon for one embryo to be harder to detect early on. They’re both healthy, though, and everything looks great so far.”

You turn to look at Tony, who seems completely flabbergasted. “We’re having two babies,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze snaps to yours, and a grin slowly spreads across his face. “Two babies,” he repeats, as though saying it out loud will help him believe it. “Holy—wow. Okay. That’s… that’s amazing.”

His joy is contagious, and despite your own shock, you can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, it is.”

The doctor spends a few more minutes explaining what to expect with a twin pregnancy before wrapping up the appointment. As you leave the clinic, Tony’s hand finds yours, his grip warm and steady.

“So,” he says as you walk to the car, “twins, huh?”

“Twins,” you confirm, still feeling a bit dazed.

He stops abruptly, turning to face you. “Do you know what this means?”

“What?” you ask, bracing yourself for whatever over-the-top conclusion he’s about to draw.

“I need to double everything,” he says, his expression deadly serious. “Double the baby-proofing, double the cribs, double the toys—hell, we need to double the size of the penthouse.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Tony, we don’t need to double the size of the penthouse.”

“Sweetheart, we’re having two Stark geniuses. They’ll need space to build their first prototypes.”

You roll your eyes but can’t hide your smile. “Let’s just get through the pregnancy first, okay?”

“Deal,” he says, pulling you into a hug.

The ride home is filled with excited chatter as Tony starts brainstorming baby names, nursery themes, and potential inventions to make parenting twins easier. His enthusiasm is palpable, and by the time you pull into the garage, you’re already feeling more at ease about the road ahead.

That night, as the two of you lie in bed, Tony’s hand rests protectively on your stomach, his thumb tracing lazy circles over the fabric of your shirt.

“Twins,” he murmurs again, his voice filled with wonder.

“Still wrapping your head around it?” you ask, smiling up at him.

“Completely,” he admits, turning to look at you. “But you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You reach up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead, your heart swelling with love for the man beside you. “Me neither.”

As you drift off to sleep, the reality of your growing family feels a little less daunting, and a whole lot more exciting. With Tony by your side, you know you’re ready for whatever challenges—and joys—lie ahead.

The next few days are a whirlwind of excitement and planning. The news of twins has sent Tony into overdrive, and he spends every waking moment researching, organizing, and brainstorming ways to prepare for their arrival. It’s both endearing and exhausting to witness.

“Alright,” Tony announces one evening, dropping onto the couch beside you with a sleek tablet in hand. “We need to talk names. Stark-level names. None of this basic nonsense.”

You laugh, curling your legs under you as you turn to face him. “Tony, we don’t even know the genders yet.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “We plan for all possibilities. Boy-boy, girl-girl, boy-girl—it’s a Stark family think tank tonight.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Fine. What do you have so far?”

He taps on the tablet and turns the screen toward you. It’s a list of names, complete with notations about their origins, meanings, and even their potential compatibility with the Stark legacy.

“Okay, hear me out,” he begins, pointing to the first name on the list. “For a boy: Leonardo. Strong, classic, nod to genius inventors—da Vinci, obviously.”

You tilt your head, considering it. “Not bad. But does that mean we have to stick with an artist theme for the other one?”

Tony grins, clearly delighted by your engagement. “Exactly what I was thinking. How about Raphael? It’s strong, recognizable, and—”

“—also a ninja turtle,” you finish, raising an eyebrow.

He groans dramatically, tossing the tablet onto the coffee table. “You’re impossible to impress.”

You laugh, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “I like Leonardo. We’ll keep it on the list. What about girls?”

His eyes light up as he picks up the tablet again. “Oh, I’ve got some great ones for girls. Athena—powerful, goddess of wisdom. Or Nova—short, sharp, and celestial. Perfect for a Stark.”

You smile softly, feeling a surge of affection for him. Despite his larger-than-life personality, it’s clear how much thought he’s put into this, how much he already loves these babies.

“I like Nova,” you admit, leaning your head against his shoulder. “It’s different, but not too out there.”

Tony wraps an arm around you, his fingers brushing over your arm. “Nova it is,” he murmurs. “And don’t worry, we’ll come up with a few backups. We’ve got time.”

The two of you spend the next hour tossing ideas back and forth, laughing over some of Tony’s more outrageous suggestions (he’s still convinced that Starkette would be a great name) and adding your favorites to the growing list.

As the night winds down, you find yourself stretched out on the couch, Tony’s hand resting lightly on your belly. It’s become a habit of his lately—always finding an excuse to touch the bump, as though he’s already trying to forge a connection with the twins.

“You know they can’t hear you yet, right?” you tease as he leans closer, his lips hovering over your stomach.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, his voice low and affectionate. “It’s never too early for a little bonding time.”

You smile, watching as he begins to speak softly, his words meant for the tiny lives growing inside you.

“Hey, little ones,” he says, his hand gently rubbing your belly. “It’s your dad. I know it’s early, but I just wanted to say hi. I’ve got some pretty big plans for you two, you know. Not too much pressure—just, you know, world domination and all that.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Tony.”

“What?” he says, looking up at you with a playful grin. “They’ve got the Stark genes. It’s inevitable.”

He turns back to your belly, his expression softening. “But seriously, you’re going to have the best mom ever. She’s already taking such good care of you, and she’s going to love you more than you can imagine. I’ll do my part too, don’t worry. Whatever you need, whenever you need it—I’ve got you.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you listen to him. Despite his usual bravado, there’s a vulnerability in his voice that takes your breath away.

“Tony,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

He looks up at you, his gaze warm and steady. “Yeah?”

“I love you,” you say simply, unable to find any other words to convey what you’re feeling.

He smiles, leaning up to press a kiss to your forehead. “I love you too, sweetheart. And I love them already, more than I ever thought possible.”

The moment stretches between you, filled with a quiet intimacy that needs no words.

Over the next few weeks, Tony’s overprotectiveness reaches new heights. He installs a state-of-the-art air filtration system in the penthouse (“just to be safe”), bans you from lifting anything heavier than a pillow, and insists on driving you everywhere, even if it’s just down the street.

“Tony, I’m pregnant, not made of glass,” you protest one afternoon as he insists on carrying your bag up the stairs.

“Exactly,” he says, not missing a beat. “You’re pregnant. Which means you’re carrying my kids. And that means I’m not taking any chances.”

You sigh, but there’s no arguing with him. And truth be told, you don’t mind the extra attention—especially when it comes with moments of unexpected sweetness.

Like the nights when you’re too tired to cook, and Tony orders your favorite takeout, complete with extra sides “for the cravings.” Or the mornings when he wakes you up with a gentle kiss on your forehead and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice because he read somewhere that vitamin C is good for pregnancy.

One evening, as you’re lying in bed, Tony rests his hand on your belly and begins his nightly ritual of talking to the twins.

“Alright, you two,” he says, his tone mock-stern. “Listen up. No giving your mom a hard time, okay? She’s working overtime keeping you both healthy and happy, and I won’t stand for any nonsense. Got it?”

You laugh, running your fingers through his hair. “I’m sure they’ll be perfect angels, just like their dad.”

“Exactly,” he says, grinning up at you. “They’ll take after me in all the best ways.”

As you drift off to sleep, the sound of Tony’s voice lulls you into a sense of peace. Despite the challenges ahead, you know that with him by your side, you’re ready for whatever the future holds.

It’s a lazy Sunday morning, and the two of you are tangled up in bed. The sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Tony’s head is resting lightly on your stomach, his arms draped around your waist as he chats away to the twins.

“Okay, so here’s the deal,” he says, his voice a soft rumble against your skin. “You’re both going to be brilliant, obviously, but maybe one of you can take after your mom in the patience department. Can’t have two of me running around. That’d be chaos.”

You chuckle, your fingers idly brushing through his hair. “Pretty sure one of you is already plenty.”

Tony grins up at you before turning his attention back to your belly. “And listen, kiddo number two—don’t think I’ve forgotten about you. You’re equally as awesome. We’re just trying to figure out who’s going to be the wild one and who’s going to keep things balanced. Flip a coin? Rock-paper-scissors?”

As he continues to talk, a sudden, unexpected sensation flutters through your abdomen. You freeze, your hand stilling in his hair.

“Tony,” you whisper, your voice filled with wonder.

He looks up at you, his brow furrowed. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“Shh,” you say, placing a hand over his head. “Just… stay still.”

His eyes widen as he realizes what you mean. He presses his cheek more firmly against your belly, holding his breath.

Then it happens again—a tiny, unmistakable kick.

Tony jerks upright, his face lit with pure excitement. “Was that—did they just—”

You nod, laughing softly. “One of them kicked. First time.”

His grin stretches from ear to ear, and he places his hands on your stomach, as if willing it to happen again. “Hey, little one,” he says, his voice filled with awe. “That was you, wasn’t it? Do it again for your old man. Come on, show me what you’ve got.”

As if on cue, another gentle kick presses against your belly. Tony lets out a laugh, his eyes sparkling. “Did you feel that? That’s my kid in there!”

You laugh, your heart swelling at his joy. “I think they like the sound of your voice.”

“Of course they do,” he says, leaning down to kiss your belly. “They’ve got great taste already.”

From that day on, Tony becomes even more attached to the twins. He talks to them constantly, encouraging them to kick and wiggle for him.

When you reach the fifth month, the day of the gender reveal appointment arrives. Tony is practically bouncing off the walls with anticipation as you drive to the clinic.

“This is it,” he says, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. “The moment of truth. Pink or blue. Or both. Or—wait, what if it’s green? Is green a thing?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “It’s definitely not green, Tony. Just breathe, okay?”

At the clinic, the technician leads you into the ultrasound room and begins the scan. Tony’s hand finds yours, his grip warm and reassuring as the screen comes to life.

“Alright,” the technician says with a smile. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.”

The room falls silent as she moves the wand over your belly, pointing out the shapes of the two tiny babies nestled inside.

“Baby A is a girl,” she announces, her voice cheerful.

Tony’s jaw drops. “A girl?” he repeats, his voice filled with wonder. “I’m gonna have a daughter?”

You squeeze his hand, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Yeah, you are.”

“And Baby B,” the technician continues, “is a boy.”

Tony’s face splits into the biggest grin you’ve ever seen. “A boy and a girl. One of each. That’s…” He trails off, his voice thick with emotion. “That’s perfect.”

You laugh softly, wiping at your eyes. “It really is.”

The technician prints out a few pictures for you, and as you leave the clinic, Tony is practically vibrating with excitement.

“So, a girl and a boy,” he says as you slide into the car. “That means we’ve got to step up our name game. No more messing around.”

The next few days are filled with brainstorming sessions. Tony insists on creating a detailed spreadsheet, complete with columns for meanings, origins, and “coolness factor.”

“What about Aurora?” he suggests one evening, his legs stretched out on the couch as he scrolls through baby name websites. “Strong, beautiful, and it means dawn. Fresh start. Kind of poetic, right?”

“I like it,” you admit, adding it to the shortlist. “And for the boy?”

He pauses, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “How about Finn? Short, sharp, and full of character. Plus, it’s got that adventurous vibe.”

“Finn’s good,” you say, smiling. “It’s definitely in the running.”

As the days go by, the names start to take shape. Aurora for your daughter and Finn for your son become the front-runners, but Tony insists on keeping a few backups, “just in case they don’t look like an Aurora or a Finn.”

At night, Tony continues his tradition of talking to your belly, now addressing the twins by name.

“Alright, Aurora and Finn,” he says one evening as you lie in bed. “Here’s the deal. You’ve got the coolest parents ever, so you’d better be ready to live up to the hype. No pressure, though.”

You laugh, your heart swelling with love for him. “No pressure, huh?”

“Okay, maybe a little,” he admits with a grin. “But only because I know they’re going to be amazing.”

He leans down, pressing a kiss to your belly. “And for the record, your mom’s the real MVP here. She’s doing all the hard work, so you’d better behave when you come out, got it?”

You reach out to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over his stubble. “You’re pretty amazing yourself, you know.”

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with warmth. “Yeah, well, I’ve got a lot to live up to. These two are going to need a dad who’s as awesome as their mom.”

You smile, pulling him in for a kiss. Despite his over-the-top antics and constant hovering, you wouldn’t trade this time with him for anything. Together, you’re building something incredible—something worth every moment of chaos and excitement.

And as Tony resumes his playful chatter with the twins, you can’t help but feel that the best is yet to come.

The day starts out like any other. You wake up to Tony gently rubbing your belly, as he’s done every morning for the past few weeks. “Morning, Aurora and Finn,” he says, his voice soft and affectionate. “Big day ahead. Don’t give your mom too much trouble, okay?”

You roll your eyes playfully. “You say that every morning, and yet they seem to take it as a challenge.”

Tony chuckles, leaning down to kiss your belly before moving to your lips. “Well, they’re Starks. Trouble is in the DNA.”

The day goes on uneventfully, with Tony hovering like a protective shadow as usual. But by the evening, something feels… different. A sharp, cramping sensation ripples through your abdomen, and you freeze mid-step in the kitchen.

“Y/N?” Tony’s voice cuts through your focus, alarmed. He’s at your side in an instant. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is it the twins? Are you dying?!”

You groan, clutching the counter. “Tony, I’m not dying. I think… I think this might be it. The contractions—”

Before you can finish, Tony is already in full-blown panic mode. “FRIDAY! Get the hospital on the line. Start the car. Assemble the go-bag. No, wait—I’ve got the go-bag. Do we need snacks? Oh God, did we pack enough socks? What if the babies don’t like socks?”

You clutch his arm, forcing him to meet your eyes. “Tony, breathe. We’ve been through this in the birthing class. This is normal. We have time.”

But calming Tony Stark is like trying to stop a hurricane with a paper fan. Within minutes, he has you bundled into the car, shouting instructions at FRIDAY and speeding toward the hospital like a man on a mission.

At the hospital, the chaos only intensifies. Tony insists on staying by your side through everything, but his version of “helping” is less than helpful.

“Okay, Y/N, deep breaths,” he says, pacing beside the bed as the contractions grow stronger. “In through the nose, out through the mouth. You’re doing great. Amazing. A total rock star. Do you need water? Ice chips? A helicopter to get us out of here?”

You glare at him, clutching the edge of the bed. “Tony, sit down. You’re making me more anxious than the contractions!”

“But I’m helping!” he protests, his hands flailing.

“You’re not! If you really want to help, stop pacing and let me focus!”

Tony freezes, looking like a scolded puppy. “Okay, okay. I’ll just… sit here. Quietly. Not pacing. Totally calm.”

He sits for approximately two seconds before jumping up again. “Is it too hot in here? Too cold? Should I ask the nurse to adjust the thermostat? Where’s the nurse? Why aren’t they here yet?!”

You groan, throwing your head back. “Tony, I swear to God, if you don’t sit down, I’m going to strangle you with the IV tube!”

He raises his hands in surrender. “Right, got it. Sitting. Silent. Definitely not annoying my laboring wife.”

But, of course, Tony Stark being silent is an impossibility. As the hours stretch on and the contractions grow more intense, he tries every trick in the book to distract you from the pain.

“Knock-knock,” he says at one point, grinning nervously.

You glare at him, sweat dripping down your forehead. “Tony, if you tell a joke right now, I will kill you.”

He pales, holding his hands up. “Noted. No jokes. Moving on.”

When the time finally comes to push, Tony’s anxiety reaches a new peak. He hovers by your side, alternately shouting encouragement and panicking over every little thing.

“You’ve got this, Y/N,” he says, clutching your hand so tightly it feels like your bones might snap. “You’re amazing. A warrior. A goddess. Wait, is that supposed to happen? Should it look like that? Nurse, is that normal?!”

“Tony!” you shout, your voice a mix of anger and desperation. “Shut up and let me concentrate!”

“Right, shutting up,” he says, his face pale. “Totally shutting up.”

But, of course, he doesn’t. As you bear down, sweat pouring from your body, Tony’s commentary continues unabated.

“Is that a head? I think I see a head. Oh my God, that’s a head! Y/N, you’re doing it! You’re—”

“TONY, I SWEAR TO EVERYTHING HOLY, IF YOU DON’T STOP TALKING, YOU’LL BE THE ONE NEEDING MEDICAL ATTENTION!”

He clamps his mouth shut, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and awe.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the first baby lets out a piercing cry. The room erupts into a flurry of activity as the nurses clean and wrap the baby, placing her gently in your arms.

“It’s Aurora,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face. “Tony, it’s her.”

Tony stares, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “She’s… she’s perfect.”

But before he can fully process the moment, the doctor speaks up. “Alright, we’re not done yet. Baby number two is on the way.”

Tony’s face goes from awe to panic in record time. “Wait, what? Already? Can’t we have a break? A halftime show or something?”

“Tony!” you snap, grabbing his arm. “Focus!”

The second delivery is just as chaotic, with Tony oscillating between over-the-top cheerleading and outright panic.

“Come on, Finn!” he shouts, as though the baby can hear him. “You’ve got this, buddy! Just a little further!”

You groan, squeezing his hand hard enough to make him yelp. “Stop coaching him like he’s running a marathon!”

Finally, Finn makes his grand entrance, and the room fills with another cry. Tony’s knees buckle, and for a moment, you think he might actually faint.

“Tony,” you say, your voice weary but amused. “Don’t you dare pass out now.”

He straightens, shaking his head. “I’m good. Totally fine. Just… give me a second.”

When both babies are finally placed in your arms, Tony sits beside you, his eyes glued to their tiny faces.

“They’re… incredible,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re incredible.”

You smile, leaning your head against his shoulder. “We did it.”

“Yeah,” he says, his arm wrapping around you. “We did.”

Despite the chaos, the pain, and Tony’s near meltdown, it’s a moment you’ll treasure forever. Together, you’ve brought two perfect little lives into the world, and as you sit there, holding your new family, you can’t imagine anything more perfect.

The delivery room is quiet now, save for the soft coos of the twins and the murmurs of the nurses as they clean up. You’re exhausted but overwhelmed with joy as you cradle Aurora and Finn against your chest. Their tiny hands clutch instinctively at the air, and their soft cries tug at your heart. Tony sits beside you, his gaze locked on the babies, his expression a mix of wonder and disbelief.

“Do you… do you want to hold one?” you ask softly, nudging him with your elbow.

He blinks, his eyes snapping up to yours. “Me? Are you sure?”

You laugh gently, though it comes out as more of a croak after hours of labor. “Tony, they’re your kids. Of course, I’m sure.”

Tony’s hands twitch at his sides as though he’s unsure what to do with them. A nurse notices and steps forward, offering to guide him. “Here, Mr. Stark. Just support their head like this.”

He hesitates for a moment before nodding, carefully taking Aurora from you. She’s so tiny in his arms, her pink cheeks puffing out as she lets out a little yawn. Tony looks down at her, his face softening in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Hey there, Aurora,” he whispers, his voice trembling. “I’m… I’m your dad. That’s me. Daddy.”

The word hangs in the air, and you see his eyes glisten with unshed tears. He swallows hard, blinking rapidly as he stares at her. “You’re so small. And perfect. How… how did we do this?”

You reach out, resting your hand on his arm. “I think you had a little help from me.”

He laughs, though it’s thick with emotion, and glances at you. “You’re not wrong.”

Finn lets out a small wail from your chest, and Tony’s attention snaps to him. “Is he okay? What’s wrong? Is he hungry? Cold? Should we call someone?”

“He’s fine,” you assure him, laughing softly. “He’s just letting us know he’s here.”

Tony looks torn, glancing back at Aurora as though he can’t bear to let her go, but eventually, he hands her back to you so he can hold Finn. The moment Finn is in his arms, Tony’s face crumbles again.

“Hey, buddy,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over the baby’s tiny hand. “I’m your dad. And I know I’ve got a lot to learn, but I promise I’m going to figure it out. You and your sister—you’re my whole world now.”

Tears spill down his cheeks, and he doesn’t even try to wipe them away. You reach out to touch his hand, your heart swelling at the sight of him holding your son.

“You’re doing great, Tony,” you whisper. “They’re already lucky to have you.”

A few days later, the hospital staff finally gives you the green light to go home. Tony spends the entire morning triple-checking every detail. He inspects the car seats at least a dozen times, adjusts the blankets to make sure they’re just right, and insists on personally carrying both the babies out of the hospital, one in each arm.

“Tony,” you say as you follow him out, balancing yourself carefully. “You do realize the nurses already checked all of this, right?”

“Yeah, well, they didn’t check it Stark-style,” he replies, his tone serious. “These two deserve the best. Nothing but perfection.”

You roll your eyes fondly but let him fuss. After all, his protectiveness is part of what makes him Tony.

The drive home is equally over-the-top. Tony drives at a snail’s pace, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turn white. Every bump in the road earns a muttered curse, and he checks the rearview mirror every five seconds to make sure the babies are okay.

“Tony, relax,” you say, trying not to laugh. “They’re fine.”

“Fine?!” he exclaims, glancing at you with wide eyes. “We’re transporting the most precious cargo in the universe! Fine isn’t good enough!”

When you finally make it home, Tony insists on carrying the babies inside himself, refusing to let anyone else touch them. He sets them down gently in their bassinet, adjusting their blankets and staring at them like they might disappear if he looks away.

“They’re really here,” he says softly, more to himself than to you. “We’re parents.”

You wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head against his shoulder. “We are. And you’re already amazing at it.”

The first few days at home are a whirlwind. Tony hovers constantly, watching the babies like a hawk and rushing to their side at the slightest sound. He insists on being involved in everything—feeding, diaper changes, even lullabies.

One night, you find him in the nursery, sitting in the rocking chair with Finn cradled in his arms. He’s humming softly, and Finn’s tiny fingers are wrapped around his pinky.

“Tony,” you whisper, leaning against the doorframe. “You should be sleeping.”

He glances up, his expression soft but determined. “I will. Just… not yet. He’s so small, Y/N. What if I miss something?”

“You’re not going to miss anything,” you assure him, walking over to place a hand on his shoulder. “You’re doing an incredible job.”

He smiles, though his eyes are tired. “Thanks, but I think he’s the one doing all the hard work. Growing this cute can’t be easy.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Come on, Daddy. Time for bed.”

The nickname makes him pause, his eyes glistening again. “Daddy,” he repeats softly. “I’m still getting used to that.”

“You’re doing just fine,” you whisper, kissing his cheek.

As the days turn into weeks, Tony’s overprotectiveness doesn’t wane. He insists on baby-proofing every inch of the house, even though the twins aren’t even crawling yet. He researches every parenting book he can find, orders the latest baby gadgets, and constantly checks the temperature in the nursery.

But amidst all the chaos, there are quiet, tender moments that make your heart swell. One afternoon, you walk into the living room to find Tony lying on the floor with Aurora on his chest and Finn nestled in the crook of his arm. He’s talking to them softly, telling them about the Avengers, about his workshop, about the stars.

“And one day,” he says, his voice warm and full of love, “you’re going to do amazing things. But for now, just know that I’ve got you. Always.”

You stand in the doorway, watching him with tears in your eyes. Despite all his quirks and eccentricities, Tony Stark is a man who loves deeply and fiercely, and your little family is proof of that.

As you join him on the floor, lying down beside him and resting your head on his shoulder, you know that no matter what challenges come your way, you’ll face them together. Because this—this messy, beautiful, chaotic life—is everything you’ve ever wanted. And more.

It starts out like any other quiet afternoon in the Stark household. The twins are happily napping in their bassinet, and for once, the house isn’t filled with Tony’s constant tinkering or FRIDAY’s updates about his latest gadget. You and Tony are stretched out on the couch, enjoying the rare moment of calm.

“I think we’re finally getting the hang of this parenting thing,” Tony says smugly, tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Two babies, zero disasters today. We might actually be superheroes after all.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Tony, you just jinxed it. Never say something like that out loud.”

“Pfft, jinxes aren’t real,” he says, waving you off. “Besides, look at us. We’re unstoppable. Nothing’s going to—”

Before he can finish his sentence, a piercing cry erupts from the nursery.

“Welp,” you say, pushing yourself up from the couch. “Guess the streak is over.”

Tony follows you down the hall, muttering under his breath about how the universe is conspiring against him. When you reach the nursery, you’re met with the unmistakable smell of disaster.

“Oh no,” Tony says, stopping dead in his tracks. “That’s… that’s not just a cry. That’s a code brown cry.”

You peer into the bassinet, where Finn is wriggling unhappily, his tiny fists flailing. His onesie is stained in a way that makes you immediately regret having eyes.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, covering your nose. “How did this even happen? It’s everywhere!”

Tony takes a cautious step back. “Okay, new plan. You handle Finn, and I’ll supervise from a safe distance.”

You shoot him a glare. “You’re the one who said we’re unstoppable. Get over here and help me.”

Tony groans but reluctantly steps forward, pulling his shirt over his nose like a makeshift mask. “This is why I built suits, you know. To avoid situations like this.”

Together, you carefully lift Finn out of the bassinet, trying not to make the mess worse. But it’s no use. The more you move him, the more it seems to spread.

“Okay,” Tony says, his voice muffled by his shirt. “We need a plan. You grab the wipes, I’ll get the clean onesie. And maybe a hazmat suit?”

“Tony, just grab the diaper bag,” you say, exasperated.

He scrambles to comply, but in his rush, he knocks over a bottle of baby powder, which explodes into a cloud of white dust.

“Perfect,” you mutter, coughing as the powder settles over everything. “Now it smells like a powdery poop disaster.”

Tony hands you the wipes, looking sheepish. “At least it’s better than just poop?”

You manage to get Finn onto the changing table, but the moment you open his diaper, he decides to up the ante.

“Tony, grab a—!”

Too late. A tiny fountain arcs into the air, catching both of you completely off guard. You shriek, trying to shield yourself, while Tony flails wildly, yelling, “Abort mission! Abort mission!”

By the time the chaos subsides, you’re both covered in a mixture of baby powder and… other substances you’d rather not think about. Finn, meanwhile, seems perfectly content, cooing happily as though nothing happened.

“This,” Tony says, pointing at the baby, “is why they don’t make movies about superhero dads. No one would believe it.”

You can’t help but laugh, despite the mess. “Welcome to parenthood, Mr. Stark.”

Once Finn is cleaned up and dressed in a fresh onesie, you collapse onto the couch, exhausted. Tony joins you a moment later, his hair still dusted with baby powder.

“Well,” he says, draping an arm around your shoulders. “That was a new low for me. And I’ve done a lot of embarrassing things.”

“At least we survived,” you say, leaning into him. “Barely.”

He grins, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You know, I think this whole parenting thing might actually be tougher than saving the world.”

“Definitely messier,” you agree.

As if on cue, Aurora’s cry echoes from the nursery, signaling the start of the next adventure. Tony groans, burying his face in his hands.

“I’ll get her,” you say, patting his knee.

But Tony grabs your hand, pulling you back. “No, no, I’ve got this one. Stark to the rescue.”

You watch as he marches down the hall, determination written all over his face. Moments later, you hear him exclaim, “Oh come on! How is this even possible?!”

You burst out laughing, knowing that life with Tony and the twins will never, ever be boring.

[melina-mellow]

Doctor Strange 3 was confirmed to be happening a while ago now I'm holding my breath hoping that this is the time they finally get it right.

First off, they need to make this movie about Stephen, he needs to be the star of the movie,.. MoM was solely Wanda's show.. She stole every scene she was in and I was more interested on what was going on with her instead of Stephen.

I don't want America to be in the 3rd one though. Nothing against the character herself, I just don't want America Chavez to develop the "ironboy jr problem" Where her whole character suddenly starts revolving around her relationship Stephen Strange. We did that once with Peter Parker and Tony Stark... We do not need to replay that trope a million other times... Especially with characters that have no relation to one another.

They used MoM to introduce her into the MCU? Fine, it fit with the whole multiverse thing they were going for. We do not make her a recurring character for the Doctor Strange franchise. The next I want to see America is with the characters she belongs with; The Young Avengers.

Aside from that! I really just want the Doctor Strange cast to shine, specifically Wong and Clea. I want them to actually feel powerful and competent, not just throw away side characters.

Clea and Wong are both the Sorcerer Supremes of their respective dimensions, I don't want them to be turned into canon forder just for Stephen to come and save them... Make them be on the same level as Stephen, not just his sidekicks.

Speaking of Clea.... Please for the love of god, don't just reduce her to the role of the "love interest" She deserves more respect then that!

As for the director.... I have no problems with Sam Raimi, I find that his directing style fits well with Doctor Strange really well. It's the script that I'm worried about.

And.... That's it! I think I've rambled enough.

[themculibrary]

any fics set in Earth 838? (the one in Multiverse of Madness)

Here's some fics I found in the tag

there doesn't seem to be very many, unless I'm missing some!

my dreamer's disposition (or my wicked streak) (ao3) - synchronicities T, 3k

Summary: Multiverse of Madness spoilers

Earth-838's Wanda Maximoff returns home.

psychological horror (ao3) - olsenbcttany wanda/vision G, 1k

Summary: set in earth 838. wanda struggles in the aftermath of the scarlet witch's dream walking. vision is there to comfort her.

Redemption Is A Road To Infinity (ao3) - DoctorWhiteFox T, 12k

Summary: Stephen Strange had founded the Illuminati to deal with threats as dangerous as him. Execution is certain, he knows, and he deserves to die - yet he falters.

In a moment of weakness - when his need to survive drowns out all rational thought - he jumps into a glowing tear in the Nexus between universes.

He's not the only one in need of a second chance.

What if… An Earth-838 IronStrange Story (ao3) - gurkenpflaster tony/stephen T, 1k

Summary: "Just 'cause someone stumbles and loses their way, doesn't mean they're lost forever." What if Tony Stark managed to convince Charles Xavier, the mightiest telepath in the known universe, to spare Stephen Strange Supreme?

- Tori