#tony stark is Italian

[wynnd-citrus]

Italian dad forehead kisses hehehehehe I love them

THIS IS NOT ST@RKER ‼️‼️‼️ ST@RKERS DNI OR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED WITHOUT HESITATION 🤮

[incorrect-maraudersaandco-quotes]

Barty: due tazze di caffè, per favore

Evan:

Barty: What?

Evan: Since when do you speak Italian?

Barty: My mom is Italian

Evan: Since when?

Barty:

Barty: Since her birth

[robertdowneyjjr]

tiramistake

for @meidui

—

“Hey babe,” Steve greets as he exits the elevator and finds Tony splayed across the couch in the common room. He beelines towards his boyfriend as Clint follows him out with a plastic bag in hand.

“Got you dessert,” Clint says, placing the bag on the coffee table. “Your favorite.”

“Ooh!” Tony makes grabby hands at the bag as he lifts himself into a sitting position. “Gimme.”

Steve takes the container out of the bag but moves it out of reach just as Tony is about to take it from him. “Just so you know, I told him this wasn’t a good idea,” he says before handing the box over along with a fork.

Tony frowns. “That’s silly. Tiramisu is never a bad idea.” He eagerly opens the box, cracking the plastic lid as he does so. Without another word, he sinks his fork into the cake as his two friends watch. They know he never shares his tiramisu anyway.

A bit of cake drips from his fork as he lifts it towards his mouth. Weird, but he shrugs it off mentally. Maybe the cream just melted a bit on their way back to the tower.

He takes his first bite, relishing the richness of the chocolate powder. Then the rest of the taste hits him. He looks at the container and digs around the cake, analyzing it.

“It doesn’t taste like coffee,” he tells Clint. He lifts up another forkful, looking at the cake from every angle. “Why is there no texture? Where are the ladyfingers?” He takes a bite again. There’s nothing but cream and chocolate powder. And some orange liquid that keeps dripping off the damn fork.

“I think there’s a ladyfinger in the bag,” Clint says, digging through the plastic. He pulls out a small paper bag. “Yup, here it is.”

“A ladyfinger. Singular. As in one lone ladyfinger.” Tony squints into the paper bag as he takes it from Clint. “And it’s… crunchy.”

“I think you’re supposed to dip it in the cream,” Clint says. As if that’s a normal thing to do when eating tiramisu. Next to Tony, Steve covers his face with a hand and sinks deeper into the couch cushions.

“Remind me where you guys went for lunch again?”

His other hand joins the first as Steve mumbles, “That new Thai place down on 42nd.”

“But you got dessert where?”

“At the Thai place, obviously,” Clint responds. “I saw tiramisu on the menu and knew we needed to get it for you.”

Right. Obviously.

“You got tiramisu from a Thai restaurant.”

“Duh. It’s Thai milk tea tiramisu. Neat twist, right?”

That explains the drippy orange mess.

Tony places the container of cream back on the coffee table and stands up. Pointing at Clint, he demands, “Birdboy, come with me.” He pauses as he nears the elevator and turns back to Steve. “You’re coming too.”

He leads them to the garage and herds them into the first car he finds, then gets behind the wheel. For the first time in a long time, he drives silently, with no music playing or idle conversation to pass the time. Even as Clint asks over and over again where they’re going, Tony does nothing but stew in a deep kind of sadness that he had never felt before.

When Tony finally pulls over half an hour later, Steve sucks in a deep breath. “We’re really in it this time,” he mutters as he gets out of the car.

“Alright, Stark. This is getting weird. Why are we here?”

Tony can only glare at Clint for a moment before he turns on his heels and walks through the gates, knowing the other two men will follow. When he finally reaches his destination, he spares Clint only another glance before he faces forward again to look at Maria Carbonell Stark’s headstone.

“Apologize.”

“What?!”

Tony huffs and looks back at Clint. “Apologize to my mother, Barton. What you did today was disrespectful.”

“Excuse me?”

Turning once again to where his mom is laid to rest, Tony whines. “He gave me an abomination and called it tiramisu, mama. That was mean. And gross. You would be so disgusted. If he doesn’t apologize you should totally haunt his ass.”

“Hey! I don’t want to be haunted by your mother’s ghost!”

“Then apologize.”

“Fine!” Clint steps forward and grumbles, “I’m real sorry, Mrs. Stark. It won’t happen again.” He turns to Tony. “I hate you. But I’m sorry. I honestly thought you might like it.”

“You’re forgiven.”

Tony turns to his other side, where Steve is trying his best to muffle his laughter behind his fist.

“Now you. Apologize.”

Steve’s hands fall to his sides as his jaw drops. “Me? What did I do?”

“You didn’t try harder to stop him. You’re supposed to protect me,” Tony says indignantly.

“Alright, fine.” Steve sighs as he steps up to speak. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ll never let your son taste another bad tiramisu again for as long as I live.”

“Remember you can always haunt them if they go back on their word, mama. Okay, love you, I’ll be back soon!” Tony turns to go, holding Steve’s hand as they walk back to the car where Clint is already waiting. “Now let’s go get me some real cake.”

[guest-1-2-3]

so. never consumed any mcu content whatsoever. however i have recently stumbled upon peter parker/harley keener fanfics, went down a rabbit hole, and am now obsessed with their dynamic and i realized i have just fallen into the trap of another blond + southerner + sarcastic + calls-his-boyfriend-darlin’ + infinitely supportive + big fucking nerd x incredibly traumatized + sarcastic + italian + orphan + definitely-started-saving-the-world-too-young + big fucking nerd ship. i am nothing if not predictable

[denebolablack]

*Bucky and Steve relaxing in Tony's lab couch while they wait for him to come home*

Steve: Tony inherited his looks from Howard.

Bucky: Yup.

Steve: What do you think he inherited from his mom?

Bucky: *Shrugs and takes a long sip of soda*

Tony: *Out of nowhere* My mental disorders.

Steve: *Screams*

Bucky: *Spits out his drink*

Tony: *Chuckles* Oh, and also my love for playing the piano and cooking italian food.

Bucky: Doll, I love you, but next time you give me a heart attack like that I can't promise I won't shoot you.

Tony: *Smiles smugly* I really wanna see you try.

Steve: *Moaning* Boys, stop.

Tony: Sorry oh captain my captain *Kisses his Brooklyn's boys noses and walks away* If you both hurry, maybe you can join me on the shower.

Bucky: Move that America's ass punk! Our love has spoken.

Steve: Don't get all bossy, Bucks. That's Tony's work.

[idk-bruh-20]

Irondad fic ideas #152

Every year around the holidays, a "bug war" breaks out in the Parker-Stark households 

Not bugs as in creepy crawlies. Technology bugs. Surveillance.

Tony and Peter are both determined to figure out what the other wants for the holidays 

The two are on surprisingly even ground: Peter's spider-sense doesn't consider this a threat, and FRIDAY won't snitch. They both have to find any "bugs" the old fashioned way.

Bonus:

Soon enough the whole Ironfam is wrapped up in it. November and December become a time of yearly paranoia, everyone watching what they say and "checking for bugs." 

Even Peter's friends discover tiny bugs on them. When Ned first learns the itty bitty robot behind his coat button is from Tony Stark trying to find out what he wants for Christmas he faints on the spot

Bonus 2, Crack Taken Seriously Boogaloo:

For a bit of drama: it's all fun and games until one year Peter gets kidnapped. The situation is bad. They only find him in time thanks to one of the "holiday bugs" Tony recently snuck on

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Hey! I just saw your post on the mini prompt and a minute ago i was thinking of fics where peter surprises people when he speaks Italian or Spanish. could you write one with something like this? Also i really love your writing style (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)❤️❤️

Aw! Thank you so much @stardustinmyeyesstuff !! I had a lot of fun deciding where to take this prompt. But I seem to have landed somewhere between a 'Peter and Tony Speak Italian' and ' Peter Parker Calls Tony Stark Dad' trope. Haha. I hope that's okay and that you enjoy it!

Here it is, just barely under 1k, at 995 words.

Mumbled Italian

If there was one thing Peter had learned about Tony over the last year, it was that he liked to talk. He liked to talk about everything all the time, and Peter loved it. The constant chatter meant he got to have amazing conversations with the Tony Stark! And in time, it meant being able to engage in lots of playful banter too.

In tandem, he learned that if there was something Tony felt he shouldn’t say out loud, he would simply grumble it under his breath. In Italian.

Often it was complaints. Sometimes they were about Pepper forcing him to attend meetings. Other times they were about FRIDAY being a little too sassy or how Captain Rogers was a know-it-all. Peter never said anything about it. After all, he wasn’t supposed to be able to hear it. Let alone understand it. But he had enhanced senses and an Italian aunt, making it very easy for him to understand every single one of Tony’s lowly spoken words.

For a while, it was easy to ignore whispered criticism. All the way up until the day he overheard Tony mumbling about him.

He walked into the lab and dropped his backpack on the floor. Then he and Tony greeted each other as he removed his hoodie.

“How was school?” Tony asked.

“Good! I aced my math test,” Peter said, as he crossed the distance between them.

“I knew you would,” Tony smirked. “You’ve mastered that material. Why are you even in that class? You’d do so well in a college dual-enrollment progra-” he said, pausing mid-word to change the subject altogether. “What are you wearing?”

Peter looked down, unsure of what he’d put on that morning. When he saw it, he blushed three different shades of red. “Oh my God, Mr. Stark. I just threw something on this morning. I didn’t even realize what it was,” he attempted to explain.

“Okay. That’s fair,” Tony replied, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “But it doesn’t explain why you own it.”

Peter opened and closed his mouth several times while still trying to obscure the blatant Oscorp logo. “It was from a field trip,” he pathetically stated.

“A field trip, huh,” Tony replied. “And you kept the shirt? Wasn’t that trip a little, I don’t know- traumatic for you?”

“It’s just a shirt,” Peter struggled. “And I was wearing a hoodie over it all day. The only reason I took it off is you don’t like me to have strings dangling over the machinery!”

“Well, yeah. That’s a safety concern,” Tony said, “This, however, is just plain insulting. You wore an Oscorp shirt to my Stark Industries workshop,” he said, then abruptly stood up. “Actually, I’ll be right back.”

Peter sat down at his workbench to await Tony’s return. It didn’t take long. Twenty minutes later, Tony was coming back into the lab with his arms full of bags from the Stark Industries gift shop.

“Foremost, here’s the shirt you’re going to change into,” Tony said, tossing a black SI t-shirt Peter’s way. “But got one of everything for you. Including pajama pants. Did you know we sold Stark Industries pajama pants? Because I didn’t. One of those is for me.”

Peter shook his head and quickly switched out shirts, tossing the green Oscorp one into the trash bin beside the desk. Then he sat down to start his homework. And that’s when he heard it. Tony was sitting across from him, manipulating a new design while muttering under his breath.

“That child will be the death of me,” Tony nearly silently mumbled. Followed by “No son of mine is going to be caught wearing something like that,” and “Why do children always defy their fathers?”

Every word of it was spoken in fluent Italian.

Peter looked up, his eyes growing wider as Tony continued to grumble. Then, before he could stop himself, he began laughing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he breathlessly spouted. “It’s just that I can hear you, and I know what you’re saying and-”

“-You speak Italian?” Tony swiftly interjected. “How much of that did you understand?”

“All of it,” Peter cackled, “I understood every word, Dad.”

As Tony's cheeks began to pinken, Peter took a few deep breaths to stop the incessant giggling. He was sure that, outside of perhaps Pepper or Rhodey he was probably the only person to witness Tony Stark blushing in the last three decades. He suddenly felt a little guilty.

“I’m sorry,” he genuinely apologized.“I should have told you before that I could hear and understand you. But it was super easy to just- not listen? And after a while, I guess it just didn’t seem all that important?”

“Of course it was important!” Tony replied, but there was no hint of heat in his tone. “I can’t believe you speak Italian and didn’t tell me. Are you fluent? I thought you took Spanish in school. Wait. Do you know any other languages?”

“Aunt May’s Italian, So I learned it from her when I was little. I guess I’m fairly fluent. You’re right, I take Spanish in school and uh,” he said, pausing to mentally go through all of Tony’s many questions. “I know a little bit of Japanese just because I thought it would be fun?”

Tony blinked, then smiled widely and spread his arms. “That’s amazing.”

“You’re not mad?” Peter dubiously inquired.

“Nah,” Tony said with a small flourish of his hand. “Surprised, yes. But not mad. I probably would have said all those things anyway.”

“Did you mean it?” Peter asked. “You think of me as a son?”

“Kind of hard not to, kid. You’re a little mini-me,” Tony replied while ruffling Peter’s hair.

And all Peter could do was grin. Tony thought of him as a son and he couldn’t have been happier about it. “Thanks, Dad. You’re the best,” he said softly. But he made sure to say it in Italian.

[popcorn-plots]

no but Tony proposing to Stephen in Italy

[apollo11fangirl]

We all know that Tony can't cook, but what if he can only cook Italian food. Like somehow Maria taught him how to cook her food really well. It's to the point that he can't stand any other Italian food that an't his own.

Rhody and Pepper know all about it, but the Avengers only learn when Steve tries to make some and Tony takes over the kitchen since Tony see him do it all wrong. The best team dinners when Tony cooks.

The same thing happens with British deserts thanks to Ana, Jarvis, and Peggy.

[space-mermaid-writing]

Okay, listen!

Tony as a tailor

Stark Tailoring Inc.

Tony wears reading glasses when taking measurements. And Tony has to step on a small footstool when he fits a suit on Stephen because the Doc is so freakishly tall it’s unfair!

Stephen getting all flustered when Tony is suddenly as tall as him and also right up in his face.

Peter is Tony's intern. He takes notes and writes everything down while Tony is doing fittings and muttering numbers and notes nonstop. And Peter is the perfect assistant because he actually understands what Tony means with his gibberish.

[julunibalism]

Random Head cannon I came up with in school:

Okay so one of my favorite hc of Tony is that he speaks Italian, ok so imagine post Avengers 1, everyones living in the tower, and Tony gives all of them Italian nicknames at first the nicknames are pretty tame, but as he gets to know all of them they get more intimate, and everyone just thinks Tony is calling them weird names in Italian, but Tony's just waiting for one of them to realize he's been calling them sweet nicknames 🥰

[cassiecasyl]

i love you berry much

Hi hi!! Did you miss me? Well, it’s Tony’s and my birthday so you know what that means!! I didn’t really feel all that fluffy today so have some hurt/comfort instead :3  read last years’: 2021 2022

The water lapped gently at the docks, driven by the soft spring night wind that was currently also playing with his hair. Peter let the constant rhythm lull him in, let it drown out the noise and laughter from the party behind him. The water slowly approached, running up just to crash against the wooden pillars in a splashing crescendo. Afterward, it always retreated, collecting itself for the next attempt. It was comforting like grass swaying, and familiar like words bouncing around his mouth, never sure when to leave. Like a hand gently tapping on his shoulder. 

A tiny tremor rippled through his body as he awoke. Peter turned and looked up to find Mr. Stark smiling at him. He was holding a brown basket of sorts. “Hey, kiddo, there you are! You were suddenly gone.” 

Peter blinked. The water seemed to have settled in his belly now, lapping at his skeleton. “You noticed?” 

His mentor’s eyebrows scrunched up slightly; maybe, there were rain clouds on the horizon. Peter swallowed and looked down. The rain would only hasten the erosion the lake had already begun. 

“Of course I noticed, Peter,” Mr. Stark said, his voice almost uncharacteristically soft. He settled down next to the boy and sat the basket down in front of them. It was filled with strawberries, Peter noted with confusion. The bright-red fruits shone with the promise of happiness that came with their sweet taste. 

“I will never not notice when my favorite Spiderling goes MIA,” he continued. 

I’m your only Spiderling, Peter wanted to say, but instead of taking the hook for deflection, he said: “I’m sorry.” This only deepened the clouds hanging over Tony’s features, and Peter damned the hail inside his soul. Though, before he could let it swallow him whole, there was a soft tap on his shoulder. Mr. Stark had opened his arms in question. Peter only hesitated a little before he leaned in. A content sigh escaped his lips as his weary body melted into the warm embrace. 

“What are you sorry for?” the man asked eventually. 

Peter hid his face against Mr. Stark’s chest. “For ruining your birthday,” he mumbled. 

“I’m sorry, kid, but you gotta speak up a little. I don’t have your super-hearing, unfortunately.” 

Peter huffed in frustration. His eyes down-trodden, he sat up a little, sucking in air. Mr. Stark rubbed over his shoulder blades in comfort. “I feel like I’m ruining your birthday,” he confessed. When he glanced up, Mr. Stark’s shocked and worried expression made the rain start falling. He was making everything worse. 

Instantly, Tony wrapped his arms around his kid again, rocking them slightly. Like grass swaying in the wind, Peter realized. The man’s heart drummed on in a beat faster than the water, but it was clear and sound. Safe. “No, no, no,” he whispered into Peter’s locks. “What gave you that idea? Did Nebula threaten you? Because I can assure you, she’s working on her violent tendencies.” 

Peter chuckled, and the clouds gave way for a single ray of sunshine. “No. It’s just— Everyone’s celebrating, and I’m just here being a downer and I don’t even know why. I mean, I didn’t even have a gift ready for you!” 

“Peter, listen to me. You being here, alive and in one piece, is the best gift you could ever give me. I don’t care if you gave me a thousand teddy bears or blew up the lab. I’m just glad you’re here.” 

“I’m glad you’re here too,” Peter said. Unconsciously, he had shifted so his ear was lying right over Mr. Stark’s heart. It had slowed a little now, but it was still beating steadily. On and on. No terrible silence in sight. Mr. Stark held him and the world became a little warmer. 

“A thousand teddy bears, huh?” the boy inquired after a while, his voice lighter than it had been in a while. 

“Oh no, don’t get any ideas,” Mr. Stark admonished lightly. “You know, I once gifted Pepper a giant teddy bear. Didn’t go over well…” 

Peter laughed. “You did what?” 

“I gave Pepper a giant teddy bear. It was like 10 feet tall or something. Pep was not amused, to say the least. To be fair, I was not doing great at the time,” he explained. 

“I bet Morgan would love it,” Peter pondered and burst out laughing at Mr. Stark’s pained expression. The man scooped up the bowl of strawberries and placed it into Peter’s hands. 

“Now, no more teddy bear shenanigans. Eat some. I know you haven’t eaten near enough at dinner and spiders gotta eat.” Peter blinked and took a strawberry. 

“Why do you even have these?” — he asked while munching — “I mean, is it even safe? Pepper’s allergic, and you always say Morgan comes after her.” 

“Because you like them,” Mr. Stark said as if it was the simplest thing. “And don’t worry, Morgan’s not allergic, she just prefers different fruits. I did get Pepper’s permission for once, too.” 

“Oh, wow, I’m proud!” Peter half-joked. “Also, Morgan is wrong because strawberries are clearly the best. My condolences to Mrs. Potts-Stark.” Tony chuckled and took one himself, quickly evading Peter’s wavy hands. 

“Thank you,” Peter said. 

Tony smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Anytime, kid.” 

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, with Peter munching on his strawberries. The water continued to dance with the pillars, keeping up their rhythm. When most of the strawberries were gone, Peter considered the last ones carefully. He took one out, the biggest that was left, and presented it to the man beside him. 

“Mr. Stark? I love you berry much.” 

To Tony’s credit, he did not only roll his eyes at the pun, but also snorted. He took the strawberry with a thanking nod and bit into it. After it was gone, he pulled the kid close again and kissed the top of his head. “I love you strawberry much too, il mio bambino.” 

[beta-ita]

Does your blorbo speak Italian? Do you not speak Italian? Fear not!

Instead of using google translate, which results in awkward and clunky dialogue, you can ask us!

Does Nico di Angelo know an amazing family recipie that you… don’t? Confused about how growing up in Venice might even look like? Want to be more accurate when writing LuigixBowser? Apparently Tony Stark knows how to speak Italian? What would going to school in Rome look like for your OC?

Send an ask, on anon or not, with any questions you have. We can help you with geography questions, translate phrases, find names, spellcheck, and more. If you need to spice up your story drop in and ask about italian culture or cuisine.

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[whitehartlane]

these chiesa links are hilarious bc you’ve got journos associated w the club like pok and ali saying there’s no proper truth to them but then you’ve got italian journos and for some reason that forehead merchant plettigoal saying that he’s in london having meetings w our scouts like it’s literally

[malachia-il-bibliotecario]

how does every single dubbing in Italian suck so much

[xovera-toz]

Peter: Tony has been trying to make heads and tails of my Italian school certificate

Peter: He swore he wouldn't use a translator because he's "got this"

Peter: It's been fifteen minutes of him staring at it

Peter: Funniest fifteen minutes of my life