#tony stark's daughter

[avengerthoughts]

When The Sky Falls - Pietro Maximoff x Reader

-

Authors Note: Hello! I honestly had a lot of fun writing this, and it's been in my drafts FOREVER, so I hope you like it ! At first I intended to write this into just a single shot, but then I got carried away with actually writing it, so it'll have to be a multi-part series. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Non-Graphic mentions of past torture, general sad backstories that comes along with villain origins. Tony's kind of an ass in this, I'm soRRY !!!! kind of star-crossed lovers ????

Pairing: Pietro x Reader

Prompt: Like the twins, you were a HYDRA experiment; your powers focus mainly on healing and wound transferring. Your past is a dark secret for Tony, and what happens if he finds out when it's too late?

Words:  4,783

_______________________________________

War.

That's what united the three of you. Having not only Ultron in common, but also HYDRA as well. You had arrived at Hydra first, but the memory of how you wound up there, or anything predating, was nothing but a dark abyss. The only memories that managed survival were early memories of experimentation. Injections, tests, so many that there isn't even a number anymore.

The twins arrived at the same facility years after you had, and since they were kept in the cells next to you, friendship was inevitable. You never got to see them while you were kept captive by HYDRA scientists, but you had little things. Small cracks in the walls, holes that were barely big enough to fit a finger through and sometimes even smaller than that. It may not have been much, but it was enough, and the happiness it provided was nothing like you had ever felt before.

You'd never really had a friend before, then.

Naturally, those within HYDRA weren't too fond of the yapping you three did, and you had found out the hard way the first time they overheard a conversation between you and Wanda. As a consequence for disobedience, they had punished you harshly as a result, despite the pleas and the apologies that left your mouth as they dragged you off.

They had done such a number that you couldn't see properly for a week straight after, and could barely move enough to retrieve your daily food rations. After that, you three learned to only talk when night fell. While no one kept prisoner within HYDRA's walls were ever privy to the beautiful night sky, it was easy to tell when night had fallen. The staff would thin out, and what staff remained would be more focused on their 'important work' than three measly prisoners in the corner.

Still, on their first days you managed to give them a quick run down on things before they had caught you that day. When the best time to sleep was, what to look out for in their meals in case they tamper with it, and how if they ever got hurt too badly all they had to do was sit beside one of the finger-sized holes in the wall and you'd be able to heal them by just touching them. Your first punishment though is what prompted them to ask why you couldn't just heal yourself.

Truthfully? It was the one question you could never answer, and neither could HYDRA. Whatever powers ran through your veins went completely null whenever you used it on yourself, except for the psychic shields. That was the only thing, so it sort of balances out, in a way, but after that they felt a bit more protective of you. The three of you have been inseparable ever since. Along with your healing abilities came an ability to, of course, use psychic shields (or force fields as they're more commonly known by), but also light forms of telekinesis, and an ability to transfer a persons injuries to your own body.

HYDRA was currently training you in the ability to provide a cloak of invisibility to another person within your psychic shield, something that was proving a little more challenging to learn. Transferring wounds, however, is something you often did with the twins when your healing magic wasn't working right that day or you couldn't muster the energy for it, and they only figured it out when Wanda noticed a slight difference. When you actually healed them with magic, your hands would glow white, like an angel, and when Wanda had caught notice of it she was sure to ask you.

After that, she only let you heal her if you could with magic. In part because she couldn't stand the thought of you taking on her injuries, but also because she knew her brother was worse off, and that there was no way in hell that she'd be able to talk you out of transferring his wounds, not in a million years. However, it wasn't a one-sided friendship either, the three of you were there for one another in a way that nobody else could. Not even Bucky; even with his own experience in HYDRA, it still wouldn't be the same.

Wanda, Pietro, and yourself all lived it together, and that set the foundation for an unbreakable bond. It was no surprise when they broke you out of the facility after being released themselves, and it was even less of a surprise when you had followed them and joined forces with Ultron. Their own trauma was separate from yours, and while you may not know what it's like to sit three feet from a bomb for two days straight, but you knew rage.

You knew anger.

And you were angry for them.

When they finally broke you out of the facility, it was the first time you had actually were able to see their faces, and them your own. It was also then that Wanda had granted you with memories of the past, and the memory shards she had when she uncovered a bit about your past on her own (lots of face-punching got her those memories). Pietro was gentle with you then, giving you the biggest of hugs. While Pietro already had a special spot in your heart, your time together with him solidified it.

You knew you were in this together with them, no matter what. You fell for him, and you fell hard, but you always focused on giving your friends the revenge they deserved.

What you didn't know, is that Pietro knew.

Well...

Kinda.

He's not exactly the smartest guy around when it comes to dating.

He thought your crush was more superficial, like you didn't REALLY like him, like you just thought he was hot and that you were just looking for fun.

Did that make any sense? Did you even show any signs that you were even interested in that kinda stuff?

Absolutely not, he's an idiot, but, ya'know, he's your idiot.

He makes up for being an idiot by being a fucking gremlin (read: he makes it a personal hobby to tease you a TON, and to see just how much he can make you blush like an idiot in a day. Shared idiocy, if you will, just a town over. Idiotcity, and idiotvile.)

Wanda has tried many (many, please just pay her for her matchmaking services at this point) to explain things to the both of you; explain to her brother that you like him for more than just his stupid biceps, and explaining to you that her brother is an idiot (but a sweet idiot. Most of the time-).

The thing is he likes you too, more than he lets you see, more than he's even told his sister, and every single day he fights the urge to just sit you down and spill everything to you even though he thinks you won't return his feelings to the same degree. And everyday you do the same.

A weird love limbo (that sounds weird, maybe not a limbo, maybe like....love purgatory??).

It got worse when you had fallen into a style you liked; practical in nature, for all the fighting you'd be taking part in, except for all the white. White leather pants so you could move without worrying about anything showing that shouldn't be, but you kept your top small and skin-tight, because running raises body temperature, and you're more of an agile, keep-dodging-swings-like-a-roach-you-can-never-kill person than someone who drenches themselves in combat.

And boots that actually were practical boots and not New York Fashion Week boots. Your sleeves were detached from your actual top; starting at your elbow in a silver cuff, translucent fabric hugging your forearm comfortably to a tie around your finger, while the other part of the sleeve billowed down to your side, sort of medieval royalty style, and boy did you look like fucking royalty to him.

Even now, he still can't help but stare at you, captured by how beautiful you look. In all white like an angel, but decorated in silvers and blues like an elf.

Elf angel?

Heavenly elf?

He doesn't know, all he knows is that you're drop dead gorgeous, and he loves the way you look so divine, and the way your top hugs your--damn it. Don't look there Pietro, are you a fucking idiot? (yes.)

That being said, he flirts with you.

A lot.

Sometimes just because he can, but mostly because he really really (REALLY) likes you, and can't help it. Naturally, you actually flirt back.

That's how your damnation into the love limbo purgatory was birthed, really. It put the both of you in this odd place of no PDA has actually been exchanged, but you flirt often enough that Wanda has to make fake throwing up sounds to get you two to stop half the time.

The thought of you actually being in love with him never actually crosses his mind with any substance, not even when Wanda tries to explain it, he's always thought it was more of a superficial crush because....well, frankly, he doesn't think he's good enough for you.

It sounds crazy, he knows, The Amazing Pietro (cue muscle flash here) insecure?? Feeling something more than just thinking you're cute, more than just....liking you as a friend. It's a strange feeling, strange enough that it's not like anything he's felt in the past. It's real, this love he feels for you, and maybe....just maybe....he's scared of losing you if he says anything.

It shows prominently when The Avengers meet the four of you in the Salvage Yard. Since you didn't have that excellent of offensive powers, you had hidden in the shadows, kept a psychic field on Wanda to make sure nothing hurt her, and just when Ultron was giving a speech from a place of deep seeded hatred, Tony had showed up just in time. Cracking witty jokes, as if everything was just peachy.

"This is funny? It's what, comfortable?" Pietro had questioned as he stepped forward, and you kept a precautionary field around him, "Like old times?"

"This was never my life." Stark had defended, and you narrowed your eyes as you stepped forward in turn, but stayed behind Pietro.

"No?" You questioned, "But you supplied it, you funded it; took black-tie pictures next to the military officials that were peddling the devastating weapons you created; caring more about the girls around your arm than the families you were killing." You tilted your head, knowing you were getting into his.

It didn't take like for all hell to break loose, and in the chaos Captain America had sent his shield flying at you when you had made a move to use your psychic shield around Ultron. While Wanda was quick to use her own powers to take him down, it wasn't in time to prevent the shield from crashing into your abdomen and breaking a rib or two, and the subsequent piece of metal you crashed into as a result of the shield's velocity.

A broken rib and a gash in your side might be enough to take a normal person down, but HYDRA has done worse to you. Still, Wanda helped you up and made a mental note to check back in on you when all this mess was said and done. Thanks to your time with HYDRA you'd grown used to tuning out the pain for small waves of time, and combined with the adrenaline rushing through your veins, you had no problems putting a psychic bubble around Pietro as he fell to the floor below, just to be sure he wouldn't get hurt.

When Wanda left to do her mind tricks on the Avengers, you jumped down to a slightly dazed Pietro, and Cap giving him blow and telling him to stay down. A strong emotion of protectiveness overcame you and the next thing you know, you're encasing him in a psychic shield and flinging him across the room.

"Pietro!" You exclaimed, rushing to his side, "Pietro, are you okay?"

"Ah," Pietro sighed, shaking his head a little to try and center himself again, "Yeah, yeah I'm good." It wasn't until he had actually moved his head to look at you that he saw the blood staining the white of your attire, and his eyes widened in both worry and fear.

"Princessa," He uttered out, moving closer to you, hands already at your side to inspect the gash "What happened? How bad are you hurt? Which of them did this?"

"I'm fine, silly boy," You shook your head, placing your hands on top his, "When the shield hit me, I fell onto something sharp, that's all. I'll be fine. A rib is definitely broken, but Hydra has done far worse to me, it's nothing I can't handle. I am a tank, very strong." You jokingly flashed your arm muscles to lighten the mood.

Pietro had looked at you skeptically, not fully believing that you were as okay as you were making it seem. There was a good amount of blood still staining your otherwise white top and he couldn't help but question whether or not you were telling him the truth, and the little jump of fear in his heart got the better of him. He held eye contact with you as his grip got just a bit more firm.

"Promise me you'll watch out more, okay?" Pietro practically begged with puppydog eyes that tugged on the strings of your heart just right, "You cannot heal yourself, but you can still use your shields. Care for yourself as I care about you, I've lost a lot, I can't lose you too, okay? Just...promise me?"

"Hey," You spoke softly when you noticed his eyes pooling a little, even as he tried to blink them away, and you moved one of your hands to cup his cheek, "I promise, okay? I'll be more careful."

In all the time you'd shared together, he'd never actually saw you injured before, not even in Hydra. Sure, he could hear it, hear your screams from down the hall, hear your groans of pain when they threw you back into your cell, but he never actually saw anything, and seeing that large cut in your side and all that blood staining your top? It struck a chord in him, and he realized he couldn't live without you.

He also realized he couldn't live without getting to punch Captain America in the face for that whenever he got a chance to.

Which he did, after you two had both gotten up to help Wanda make sure she could spin her webs of fear.

It's a good thing that HYDRA managed to successfully train you in that invisibility thing before you were broken out, because it came in handy when cloaking Wanda from Thor after she had finished putting her spell on him, and Natasha so she wouldn't hear her coming, but you weren't there in time to protect her from Clint. Pietro got there first, literally flinging him across the room after seeing him hurt Wanda (and winning a Best Brother Of The Year Award), and quickly took Wanda to safety to recover.

What Pietro didn't know was that you had lingered behind to bend down to Clint and let him know that it was very mean to electrocute unarmed foes.

"That wasn't very nice of you," You scolded with furrowed brows, "Were you just going to electrocute her to death? I believe that's illegal in what, at least 20 states."

"No offense, but I'm not taking lessons on morality from back alley Shee-Ra." Clint groaned, "Maybe next time if you got the cape on."

"Shee-Ra?!" You nearly screeched with excitement, "You really think so?! I love Shee-Ra--wait, old stuff or new stuff?"

"What?"

"The old Shee-Ra or the new Shee-Ra?" You asked before sighing, "Whatever, it doesn't matter, old man. I'm the original Shee-ra and you, my not-friend, are healed."

What are you-" Clint questions as you put your hands on him, healing the rib he was recovering from. "What?"

"There. That wouldn't have healed on it's own, not properly," You explained calmly, standing back up, "I don't want people dead, I just want my friends to have justice. Please do not do that brain thing again, we are not prisoners on Death Row."

You moved to leave the office you both were in, ready to leave a very confused Clint questioning your motives and true nature, when darkness hit you. Ultron had decided to take you out himself when he saw that you had healed the enemy. From there you were taken onto the jet with the rest of the team; in part to question you, but also to do you the same courtesy you did Clint. If you'd been left there, you would've been killed by Ultron himself.

Clint had explained the whole....encounter to the team, and while they were all wondering why you were really with Ultron then if you'd been so willing to heal Clint, they still kept you in handcuffs. But they put the seatbelt on you too. When you woke up, it was the next day and while everyone had already emptied into the 'Safe House', you were kept in the jet. Naturally, being the enemy is reason enough, and there was no hope for release until one of them came in and started the interrogation.

Wiggling out of the restraints was pointless too, and it hurt. Now you were reminded of your wounds, and as a result their pain now that you didn't have the adrenaline to help. They even parked the jet so they could leave the door open without you actually seeing the house. Nothing but sticks, grass, and branches as far as the eye can see. In the silence, you wondered if your friends made it out okay, if they completed their plan, if they were missing you, what Ultron would tell them both.

Would they forgive you?

Would they kill you if they saw you?

Would Ultron lie?

Was what you did truly so awful?

If you don't get out of here soon you'll never know, you'll die from an infection first. And you were hungry, starved (quite literally). Would they even feed you? Probably not, right? I mean what's the reason to? You're the enemy, allied with people actively trying to destroy them, if anything they should kill you after interrogating you. That's not the style of The Avengers, though. They'll just let you rot either in prison or in a SHIELD cell, where you'll probably be experimented on like you were at HYDRA.

Thor was gone, Natasha was pretty much out of commission, and Tony had been sent to fix a perfectly working tractor, it was left to Steve to question you. Thankfully, Steve came with lunch though, so it made it less anxiety inducing to see him walking up to jet's ramp to set the plate in the seat beside you.

"I know you must be hungry," Steve speaks, releasing you from your handcuffs so you could eat, "When we're done talking, there's a medkit inside, whether you go inside to get it or it's brought to you, depends on you."

You eyed him suspiciously, quietly, wary of his kindness when you should be held prisoner right now. What angle was he working? Was this something that was going to be held over your head later? That's what HYDRA would do. Then they would kill you. Or they would kill your family in front of you, maybe pluck out an eye, and then kill you. The polite smile he offered didn't help either, and you couldn't help but slowly put the plate into your lap, eyeing it for any suspicious activity before returning your gaze to him.

"Why?" You question, not taking a single bite of food until you know for sure it isn't poisoned, "You're being kind. Nice. Why?"

"You don't want to hurt people. I mean sure, you're with the bad guy," Steve shrugs casually, eyeing you, "but...you don't do what the bad guy does. The only time you engaged in combat was when I had hit that guy, and Clint hit Wanda, you were only on defense because you care about them. You weren't hitting to kill."

"You could've thrown me into a sharp pole, or killed Clint when he was down, but you healed him, helped him. Why?" Steve continues his questioning and you look down, pushing the broccoli around.

"You may not have hurt me, mister Rogers, but my friends are angry with you....so I am angry with you," You had begun, "We shared time together, in Hydra."

"Hydra?" Steve questions, and sympathy is written on his features.

You nod.

"Yes. Wanda and Pietro joined of their own accord, but....I didn't." Your brows knitted together, setting the plate back on the seat it was previously on, "They put....things, in me ran tests on me, experiments, I was their Guinea Pig. A rat in their maze. Then Pietro and Wanda joined, and we just...bonded. We went through everything together."

"So you feel obligated to help them?" Steve questions, but you shake your head.

"No." You begin, lifting your head to gaze at the trees, "I mean yes and no; we're friends, so of course I do, but it isn't my only reason. Do you know how horrifying it must be for two kids to sit mere feet from a bomb? Children. Children never deserve to experience that kind of horror, and Stark funded the military's selling of weaponry on the black market for so long, whether he knew it or not is a different story."

"Then what's the other reason?" Steve asks, and you're silent for a moment.

"It's....complicated." You tried to reason when faced with the idea of unpacking everything.

"I was alive during the second World War, and I don't look a day over 30," He spoke, trying to lighten the mood a little before looking at you a bit more sincerely, "I promise, no matter how complicated it is, I've got you."

"Well...Truth be told, for the longest time I didn't have memories before being in Hydra," You confessed, turning your gaze back to the trees, "I couldn't remember who I was, where I came from...who I came from, nothing. All I could remember was Hydra, and all the pain they've caused. I still don't know how long I was kept there, you could tell me I was in there for a thousand years and I'd believe you." You offer a soft chuckle, looking back down at your hands.

"I'm sorry," Steve says sincerely, voice stern, brows knitted together, "You didn't deserve that, I'm sure your family will be happy to know you're okay."

"That's the thing, mister Rogers," You paused for a moment, tears stinging your eyes as a sudden wave of emotions flooded you at the memories you'd been trying hard to forget again this whole time.

It's a bit ironic; you'd been wishing for years for even just a small fragment of a memory from your past, anything before your time in HYDRA. Anything, even just something as simple as a playground in summer, a sandwich made from your mom, anything. You would've killed for it. And now? Now you'd do anything forget them. When you wished for your memories back, you didn't think they'd come with so much pain, so much sorrow.

You were thinking you'd get happy memories; ones of getting an ice cream with your mother on a hot day, or a high school graduation, your mom taking you dress shopping for prom, attending a holiday dinner with family...Instead, what you got were memories of why you were taken in the first place; your mother spending most of your childhood trying to keep you in hiding, and the memory of hearing her screams as you were dragged off into a van before a gunshot was heard.

"Wanda--the witch, when her and Pietro had managed to secure my escape, she..." You took in a deep, shaky breath, "She has many powers, and she's not evil, she's not bad, she's so sweet," You nodded, mostly to yourself, as you looked back up at him, "She helped me remember, gave me my memories back with a single touch, and then shared with me the memories she had when trying to dig up information on my past for me."

"That was...awful nice of her, I'm glad you could get them back." Steve said quietly, hanging onto your every word.

"It was, it is," You nodded again, blinking back tears, "Can you imagine how much it hurts, to wait so long to remember your family, wait with the hope that if you ever escape you can see them again, just to find out they're dead?"

Steve was silent, but his gaze flickered down to his lap for a moment, taking in a breath, before looking back up at you, "I'm sorry, really, I wish it were different for you."

"Me too," Your tears fell freely now, "My mother spend my entire childhood trying to hide me from the men of Hydra, worked herself to death to move us so often, to keep me fed and clothed, and you know who my father was? The person who could've stopped it all?"

Steve was silent for a moment, trying to do the math himself, "Who?"

"None other than billionaire, playboy, philanthropist himself, Tony Stark." You finally confessed.

"You mean-"

"Yes. I mean." You took in another breath, "She tried to talk to him in person, and you know what he did? He had his security throw her out. She tried calling, sending letters, even emails, and guess what the genius of our time tells her?"

Silence fills the air as Steve simmers in shock, trying to take in everything, trying to reason his way through things like he always did to come to his own conclusion. He didn't think you were lying, he's too kind-hearted for that, and your tears of pure agony told him you were truthful. What he was trying to do was figure out if Tony really would do all that, or if maybe it was just a series of misunderstandings.

Steve has a habit of trying to see the best in people who aren't actively trying to destroy the world, and Tony was no different, even despite their differences. He knew HYDRA was serious business, and by extension he knew how difficult it must've been for your mother to keep you hidden from them for so long, and how incredibly strong and intelligent she must've been for doing so.

His brows furrow together as he thinks. No matter what the case is, misunderstandings or not, that's a horrible thing for a kid to live through and an equally horrible thing to be told. He couldn't imagine how it must've felt to be a single mother, trying desperately to keep her child safe from those maniacs, just to be thrown out by the same man who helped bring that child into the world in the first place.

"What does he tell her?" Steve asks, and he almost doesn't want to hear the answer.

"He comes to the apartment we were staying in and tells her that she's crazy and needs serious help. He tells her to stop contacting him, hits her with a restraining order, and then he takes one look at me and then look my mother dead in the eyes and tells her that there's no way a kid like me could've come from him. Says 'that thing isn't my problem', and that if she calls contacts him again he'll have her thrown in prison."

Steve is silent.

"My mother died trying to protect me, to save me from the horrors of that place. She never contacted him again. Stark never bothered to take a DNA test either. So my family is dead, and yes, I have my own motivations for wanting to see the his fall."

"That...That wasn't right, I'm sorry, for everything." Steve says, and steals a glance outside before returning his gaze to you, "Look, you're free to leave the jet, okay? Med-Kit is on the dining table, and Tony's out working on a tractor or something right now so you should be able to dodge him for now. I'll make sure the team knows you're good, okay?"

"Thank you." You speak quietly, returning the smile he gives you before leaving the jet himself.

Leaving you questioning many things, but most of all, what will you do now?

[daddysfangirls-marvel]

Goth Boss (7)

Warning: Angst, mentioned self-harm, mention of scars

summary: Tony stark x daughter goth reader. The avengers find out that Tony has a secret teenage daughter and make tony ask her to visit. But when they meet her the avengers find out why she was kept secret. ( could Bucky and Steve he terrified of how y/n looks since they are from a different time and seeing a goth girl for the first time scares them) (tony has a strained relationship with y/n as she grew up without him and he kept her secret)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

As the day grew closer and closer, Lilly not only found herself cooking in large amounts in fits of stress, it was okay May helped her pack up and donate all the extras for those in need, but was constantly going through her medical kits and reviewing first aid techniques preparing for the worst. Preparing for another year to begin like the last, and the year before that, and before that. She was preparing to do it all over again and to ensure her daughter survived just as she did last time. She even got cleaning supplies in preparation for cleaning up the possible blood.

As Lilly prepared, she watched her daughter dove deeper into her art and volunteering. A dozen new sketches and drawings a day and a new canvas every other day. She didn't dare look at what her daughter's artistic heart created she was scared of what she would find. Her art often showed her heart and true feelings.

She'd stay on her toes and prepare for the worst.

-

Peter saw it, too. How she was avoiding him and all their friends and throwing herself into her art and volunteering, not a minute to spare. Although he was unaware of the full history of the day, he was aware of her distaste for the day and how it agitated her to the point of no mention of it. She grew displeased with those who did mention it, and they gained her ire.

Ned was currently on the receiving end of it. Her glare was enough for him to run tail tucked between his legs and avoid her like the plague. He loved her and her friendship, but... no.

MJ was much more careful keeping quiet and her distance when needed. Leaving (Y/n) to herself as she wished believing she'd come back when she wanted or was better.

-

"You need to slow down," so she began walking slower." That's not what I meant, and You know it. Your schedule is packed to the brim there isn't a second to spare. You're running from one thing to the next. You're running straight into the ground," Peter said, taking her hand to fully stop her. " I'm worried about you. I don't want you to get sick or hurt. I'm not asking you to stop I'm asking you to slow down and take a moment breath"

"I'm..." (y/n) sighed " I can't, I'm sorry I can't "Taking her hand back she continued on without him and without looking back. Not knowing what else to do Peter just went on patrol hoping later on tonight she would be more willing to talk. -

"You're back earlier than I thought you'd be," Peter said as he swung into her room, closing the window behind him.

"The director shared your sympathies and sent me home early." (Y/n) said as she continued to sketch at her desk.

"Will you talk to me, please? I want to help you, but I don't know how, and you aren't letting me," Peter said as he kneeled beside her.

Before (Y/n) could even turn to look at him her bedroom door flew open revealing her mother holding a large medical bag. She looked at Peter, who was kneeling next to her daughter, unmasked, still in her spider suit. She looked further around the room and found nothing.

Peter began to stand and stutter.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" she asked, and he shook his head. With one that knowledge and one more look around the room, she nodded and left, closing the door- but stopped. " I know you're Spider-Man, I've known for a while she didn't tell me I found out that time you slept over, you left your suit on the floor out in the open. I won't tell anyone. If you're staying the night, let May and I know."

And not the door is closed.

And Peter collapsed onto her bed grabbing his chest " I...oh god "

"You shouldn't be surprised. She's a smart woman"

"Can we talk, please?"

"We are talking"

"(Y/n), what's going on? Is it your birthday?" she flinched hard, scratching her nearly finished sketch. " It is. I want to help you, but you need to tell me how"

She sighed, balling up her drawing and throwing it away. Running her hands down her face " I don't know. I really don't know"

"I... My birthdays have never been good." she says as she starts to cry " I'm afraid something bad will happen like last year and the year before. I'm trying to distract myself so nothing bad will happen"

"Something bad happened last year?"

"Yes," she whispered as she tugged at her sleeves. In their entire relationship, Peter had not seen (Y/n) without her sleeves at least that is what she believed While he was aware that there were times she was in deep sadness, he wasn't aware of how deep and scaring the sadness was.

"I saw"

"What"

Peter sighed. " The night you slept over after you rejected Tony. I saw your wrist. That's what happened last year, right?"

There was a moment of silence as (Y/n) slowly turned to look at him. Then she burst into tears, sobbing as she realized he knew she was broken. She was in pieces far beyond what he had thought and what she had told him, and... he still loved her. He still stayed.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she sobbed. Crossing the room, he stood her up and brought her to the bed to lie down. And laid with her, holding her for the rest of the night.

-

"I'll make sure they get up early enough to pick up his stuff on the way to school tomorrow" Realizing that Peter was going to spend the night Lilly had called his aunt to let her know and make sure she didn't worry.

"Thank you," May said

"I should be thanking you. You and Peter have been so good to us."

"I... I've just been worried about you guys that's all. Listen, I notice (Y/n) has been struggling and I don't mean to overstep or anything but do you think maybe she should talk to someone"

"Yes," Lilly sighs, " but we can't"

"Why?"

"You know who her father is. If she slips up and says her name, then those people go around talking Next thing you know, I got every news channel in America knocking on my door wanting to see Iron Man's daughter. I considered it before, but with who he is now... it is too big of a risk"

"You don't trust them"

"Sorry, but no, I don't, at least not with my baby. She's all I got"

"What if I helped you find someone? Someone trusts worth?" May could see not only (Y/n) spiraling but Lilly as well. They needed more help beyond what she could provide.

"If you can manage to find someone," she laughs bitterly.

"I do my best. For you and your daughter"

"May"

"Lilly?"

She sniffled " Thank you,"

-

When the day finally arrived, it went on as any other. It wasn't until the sunset that the atmosphere grew tense. Peter and May came over with Pizza for dinner. No one had the mindset to cook. They separated Peter and (Y/n) went to her room while May and Lilly stayed in the living room.

Peter and (Y/n) lay under her window quietly holding each other hands as they watched the city lights reflected on the window, New York didn't have stars.

"What's that?" May asked as Lilly joined her in the living room again, dropping a large black bag on the table. She sat down and sighed.

"Just in case"

She put her phone on the table, the numbers 9 and 1 already dialed, waiting for the last.

They continued to sit in silence.

In an Alley next to the apartment building, right under the living room window, was a parked SUV. His phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Yeah, Hey, where are you?" Pepper asked

"Out"

"Obviously, when are you coming home?"

He sighed, looking up at the window. " I don't know. I...I'll be back tomorrow I got to handle some stuff."

"Tomorrow?! Tony! What are you doing that has-"

"Listen, I got to go. Don't wait up" he hung up putting his phone on silent and tossing it in the passenger seat. He continued to watch the window.

Just in case.

-

The day introduced itself with bright light and blaring horns from the morning rush. The light was particularly rude, shining directly into Peter's eyes. Finding the blanket, he tossed it over his head. Opening his eyes, he found that he had tossed the blanket over (y/n)'s head as well.

(Y/n)

His fingers brushed her cheek thumb grazing her lips. He leans forward having their forehead touched and then their noses.

"(Y/n)" he whispered She began to mumble and move as she woke up but he held her in place pulling her closer to his body. " (Y/n)"

"hmm"

"You're 17"

"What?"

"You're 17"

She slowly opened her to see Peter lying in front of her she gave him a gentle kiss. Then her mind caught up with her and she realized what he said. She bolted upright.

"I'm 17"

Suddenly, her bedroom door was open, and her mother and May stepped in. There was a moment of silence.

"Happy late Birthday. Now get ready for school you have that English test today" Lilly said ignoring her blurry vision.

"Yes, ma'am." (y/n) said as she stood up. " Mommy?"

"Yes?"

"I love you"

"I love you too"

As Lilly closed the door May pulled her into her arms and allowed her to silently cry into her shoulder. Rubbing her back, telling her to let it all out, she needed this.

-

Tony watched as those going about their day walked by the open alley he was looking for one person though. He watched with baited breath as more and more people walked by but not the person he was looking for.

Until he did.

She was smiling and laughing, walking hand in hand with Peter. She was the happiest he had ever seen her he's never seen her happy before . Lilly also Came out with May also smiling. The group separated May and Lilly, crossing the street while Peter and (y/n) continued down the street, all the while still grinning and laughing.

He finally felt relief as he listened to her laughter go down the street.

Starting up the car, he pulled out of the alley and drove in the opposite direction of (y/n). Stopping at the next light he pulled up right next to Lilly and May. May didn't see him but Lilly did but she didn't say anything as they locked eyes she simply gave him a nod and kept walking.

(Y/n) was 17.

[laurie-stark]

Chapter II: Sore Eyes and Sore Muscles

Word count: 3.7K

Cherry Bomb Masterlist

The rest of the day went by without any major hiccups. I was starting to feel the nervous energy that comes with the end of a school year. I was eager to be done with all my assignments and enjoy the freedom of summer break. I finished my English period groaning when my teacher handed out another essay assignment. I said a weary goodbye to my friends on my way out. At lunchtime, I did manage to get my hands on that turkey avocado sandwich and absolutely devoured it. Emery and I chatted a little bit about his family back in France. Mostly, he was telling me about how I would get ripped to shreds by them.

“Tu manges ce sandwich comme une vache,” he said from behind the counter. 

I took another outlandishly big bite of the sandwich, chewing it obnoxiously. “Tu es prude," I replied with my mouth full. Emery scoffed but he still gave me a free croissant before I left. 

I just about got through the last two periods without falling asleep at my desk. I had no idea how I was going to get through training that night without napping before. Hopefully Happy would keep the rock and roll music to a minimum on the drive to the compound. 

I popped my locker open with a click and exchanged the books in my arms for the books I needed to take home. As the locker door swung open, a piece of yellow paper fluttered down to my feet. I bent down to pick it up. It was a sticky note with the words Compound tonight, 6 pm written on it. The messy scrawl was clearly Happy’s handwriting. He must have stuck it to one of my books earlier that morning. As if I would forget about training. 

I made my way down six flights of stairs and out the main doors onto the street. Cars and students filled the bustling streets. I remained at the top of the staircase for a moment, surveying the block for the familiar black Cadillac. Among the dozen cars parked on the street, I could not see Happy’s vehicle. Maybe he was late arriving and needed to park around the block, I wondered. As my eyes scanned up and down the road, I spotted a familiar blue Mercedes Sedan. What the hell is she doing here?

I skipped down the steps and looked both ways before crossing the street. As I approached the car, the dark-tinted window rolled down. Blue eyes and the prettiest smile were staring up at my from the driver's seat. Pepper Potts reached across the passenger side and popped the door open to let me in. I took a quick glance around me to make sure no one saw whose car I was getting into, then slipped into the seat. The second the car door closed and the window rolled back up, I felt all the tension from the day drift away. My shoulders sagged as I melted into the seat, letting my head fall back against the headrest. I let out a content sigh and closed my eyes. 

“Bad day?” Pepper’s voice pulled me from my trance and I rolled my head sideways to look at her. She had her eyes on the road, focused on pulling out of park and driving northbound. 

“No,” I started. I pondered the truth. “Yeah. I’m tired. I stayed up way too late last night.”

“I told you that all-nighters are nothing but trouble,” Pepper said. “Every time your dad would pull one, Happy had to take a bucket of water to his face the next morning.”

I chuckled at the image. “Speaking of Happy, why are you here?” I didn’t mean for it to come out sounding so accusatory. Happy Hogan, head of security for Stark Industries, was usually my lift from school to the compound. Even though it had been years since he worked under my dad directly, Happy still insisted on being my personal chauffeur for trips like these. He claimed it was well within his job description, that he was paid to protect Stark Industries' assets, and that included me.  I guess he had gotten used to taking me places and neither of us was ready to let go of that when he moved up in the ranks. So we never did. 

“Happy got stuck in a meeting with the new executive hires, so he asked me to come get you,” Pepper explained. It was unlike Happy to let meetings go over the allotted time, so I could picture his fuming face perfectly. 

“Well I’m sorry for Happy, but I’m glad for me,” I said with a halfway smile. “I missed you.” 

Pepper had been in my life since I was eighteen months old, just as long as my own father. She was the second person to hold me after child welfare handed me into my father’s loving arms. I couldn’t remember a time in my life when Pepper wasn’t around when I needed her. I hadn’t heard of any other personal assistants who moved into their boss’s house to be a temporary guardian for their boss’s kid when said boss got kidnapped by overseas terrorists. My entire childhood was filled with memories of Pepper: she played dolls with me, she taught me how to love the arts like she did, she made sure I got into therapy, hell, she even gave me my middle name. On paper, Tony Stark was a single father but Pepper had been playing parent for just as long, and I never thought of her as anything less. 

I remember being so happy when she and my dad finally got together. I’d seen The Parent Trap before and knew what Hallie and Annie must have felt at the end of the movie. Nothing about my life or routine changed, but at the same time, everything was different. I was one step closer to having someone to call mom, someone who could take me prom dress shopping and braid my hair. I came to learn that nothing good lasts forever. They told me at the beginning of the semester that they were taking a break. I was devastated, to say the least. Pepper moved out at the end of January and for the first time, Dad and I were on our own. They both claimed that it was temporary, that it was just a break, but I wasn’t convinced. 

“I miss you too, sweetheart.” 

Silence fell over us as Pepper got onto the I-87. I took to shifting around in my seat, hoping to get comfortable enough to fall asleep. I leaned my head against the window and watched the city pass us by. A sharp inhale from Pepper drew my attention away from the horizon of buildings. I looked at Pepper expectantly. 

“I know that the break between me and your dad hasn’t been easy on you, Laurie,” Pepper started. I looked down at my hands in my lap and started tugging at my fingertips. “And it’s been hard not being around each other as much. But I want you to know that even though I’m not really your mom, I hope you don’t feel like I’m abandoning you. And if you do I am happy to come around more often, or maybe you could spend a few nights of the week with me, only if you wanted to, of course.”

Pepper took her eyes off of the freeway for a moment to gauge my expression. I stayed still, taking in all that Pepper had just said. Raising my head slowly, I looked ahead at the open road and said “Yeah, you are.”

“Yeah, I’m what?” Pepper asked. 

“A mom.” I blinked. “My…mom. I think.”

“Well, no honey, you know that your mother was-”

“No, I know. I just don’t care,” I said, bluntly. “As far I’m concerned, Pepper, you’re the one who taught me how to tie my shoelaces and took me to piano lessons and did all the things that went so far out of your job description. I’ve even call you ‘Mom’ by accident sometimes and you never say anything about it. So sure, biologically whatever, but…”

I trailed off, biting my own tongue. I had been so worried the last few months, wondering if the breakup would change things between me and Pepper. I glanced up at Pepper and found her looking back at me. We shared a knowing look. An unspoken agreement settled between us. Blood doesn’t make a family, and it had never made up mine. I let my head lean against the window once again, watching as the cement jungle became a horizon of green trees and land. 

“We still have forty-five minutes on the road Laurie,” Pepper said softly. “Close your eyes, I’ll wake you up when we get there.” 

I did as I was told, letting my eyes flutter closed. The cold windowpane became the only sensation I could feel as I drifted off into a dreamless sleep. 

…

When I woke up, the car was parked outside the main doors of the compound. Pepper was gently shaking my left shoulder, pulling me from sleep. An overexaggerated yawn escaped my mouth as I rubbed my eyes and stretched the best I could inside the cramped vehicle. One more deep breath and I stepped out of the car with my backpack. The sun had shifted lower in the sky, but was beating down with the same relentless heat. 

I climbed out of the car and leaned my head through the window to thank Pepper for the ride. 

“It’s no problem at all sweetheart,” Pepper assured me. “Do you need a ride back into the city later tonight?” 

“I don’t know.” I thought about it for a moment. “No, I should be fine. Happy will probably come, and if he doesn’t I’ll take the train.”

Pepper and I shared one last goodbye and I watched the blue Sidan drive down the compound’s dramatically long driveway. 

I turned on my heels and made my way into the smaller building on the property. The compound was my father’s idea that he put together just after we returned from Sokovia. Between the main Avengers being separated and new recruits who needed training, Dad oh-so-generously donated an old Stark Industries warehouse for S.H.I.E.L.D. to use. 

I had to admit, it was a pretty incredible place. The original warehouse was still standing and housed things like weapons, private jets, and other things that needed to be kept separate from trainees. The compound itself was a multi-billion dollar building equipped with the latest and greatest that money could buy. The ground floor played host to all things business. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents had offices there, a few of the Avengers did as well. I wasn’t really acquainted with any of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, but the receptionist at the front desk always offered me a friendly wave as I walked past. 

I walked straight through the first floor and up the grand set of stairs towards the south wing. Almost all the training was done in the southernmost part of the compound. My dad ensured that the place would have everything, from an expansive shooting range with dynamic abilities to switch between different artillery. As I walked the halls I passed the range, along with the fully equipped gym, indoor pool and private training rooms. At the end of the hall, a floor-to-ceiling window gave way to the gorgeous view of the neighbouring lake. The training room Natasha and I always used looked out over the water. At least there was a pretty sight for sore eyes and sore muscles. 

The compound was also a place for agents to live if they wanted. Some were like my dad and I, who had rooms in the west wing but lived off the campus. But others, like Nat and Wanda, were permanent residents here. The west wing was essentially a deluxe university dorm. Everyone had their own bedrooms and ensuites and they shared the common living spaces. Dad even contracted two kitchens on opposite sides of the wing, so that Pepper could have a strawberry-free kitchen when she visited. Those visits were rare, but the strawberry rule was scarily strict. 

Just like all the rooms on the floor, the training room I approached was secured with a padlock. Happy had a little too much fun with the security measures when we were doing the blueprints for the compound. I bent down so that I was at eye level with the door’s keypad. 

“A.P.R.I.L., scan.” My voice command activated the keypad and a bright blue ray of light emitted from the device. It scanned over my face and I heard the familiar click of the lock. 

“Welcome back, babe.” A robotic voice with the sweetest Southern accent came through the overhead speakers. A.P.R.I.L. was my own personal artificial intelligence assistant. When I was eleven or twelve I found a really old version of F.R.I.D.A.Y. and used the architecture to create my own. A.P.R.I.L. wasn’t nearly as advanced as any of my dad’s A.I.’s, but she did the trick just fine. We did a lot of slightly questionable acts together, like hacking into S.H.I.E.L.D. files or binge-watching old security footage. She was programmed into just about every piece of technology I had or made, including the Red Wing I made for Sam Wilson. A.P.R.I.L. was able to speak in any dialect or accent I wanted. She was Southern right now mostly because I thought it was funny. 

“The grades for your history test got uploaded while you were in the car. Do you want me to get into the grade books and find them again?”

I winced at the thought of knowing what that awful test ended up getting. “Oh god no, A. I’d actually rather die than know that.” 

“Whatever you say, little boss,” A.P.R.I.L. chimed. 

Even though the A.I. would use the closest speaker to communicate with me, my head still shot up to look at the ceiling, as if it were a celestial being. 

“Little boss? Why are you doing that again, I just reprogrammed you to say ’boss’!” I exclaimed. 

“Someone infiltrated my systems last night and changed my code. They renamed the module “Best Prank Ever.”

There was only one culprit for that. 

“Dad.” A.P.R.I.L. and I said in unison.

I slumped my backpack against the wall closest to the door. It occurred to me that the jeans and silk blouse that I was wearing were not the best attire to practice hand-to-hand in, but I was honestly not in the mood for training to begin with. 

I stepped onto the cushioned martial arts mat in the centre of the room. Although the room appeared to be empty save for the red mat on the floor, one just had to know the right way to get out equipment. 

“A.P.R.I.L., lower a punching bag, would you?”

Above my head, one of the ceiling tiles began to slide behind the others, revealing a punching bag. It slowly lowered to my level and I cracked my knuckles. If Nat was here she would absolutely berate me for starting hot without any warm-ups. I started with a few punches, grunting each time my fists made contact with the heavy bag. I was using maybe a tenth of my strength, and the punching bag was barely moving in tandem with my strikes. 

Tension in my shoulders built up, and I was beginning to get frustrated with myself. Suddenly the tight jeans were scuffing against my skin in all the wrong ways, and the loose fabric of my shirt was getting in the way. I gave the punching bag one measly kick before giving up entirely. 

“What the hell are you wearing?”

I whipped around and was met with a flash of red. Natasha stood in the doorway with a look of disbelief plastered on her face. The arms crossed over her chest were adorned in a black zip-up that was taut against her skin. I did take notice of the grey sweatpants Nat had on, which was an unusual fashion choice for her. 

I looked down at my own outfit and gave Nat a shrug. “What, this doesn’t look professional to you? I think it’s important for me to train in regular clothes Nat. If I get attacked on the streets I’m not gonna be wearing my workout clothes.”

The sound of a fist rapping on wood echoed over the speakers, causing me to break my serious stature and smirk. I had programmed A.P.R.I.L. to recognize when to knock on wood for me. 

Natasha’s expression didn’t falter. “Go change. We’re wasting time.” 

I gave a curt nod and silently slipped past her out the door. I scampered down the hall into the locker room and quickly swapped my school clothes for leggings and a sports bra. 

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair fell in loose waves, pooling over my shoulders. Although it would have been faster to throw it up into a ponytail, I opted for a simple braid. My hair was thick, a feature my father constantly takes credit for, and the braid settled nicely down my back. I took another once-over in the mirror before taking off back to the training room.

When I returned I found that Nat had gotten rid of my punching bag and replaced it with an entire boxing ring. From the way she was completely doubled over in a full-body stretch, I knew two things. One, she was not going to go easy on me, and two, I was royally screwed. 

“Have you warmed up at all?” Nat asked me with her arms stretched above her.

I shook my head, shame rising in crimson patches on my cheeks. Nat let out a scoff and my fingernails found solace in the flat of my palm. 

“What’s up with you today?”

I shrugged half-heartedly. “I don’t know, I’m tired?” I admitted defeat, although it came out sounding like a question.

I remained under Nat’s hot gaze until I watched it melt. 

“Give me twenty push-ups and a five-minute wall sit and then we’ll focus on your punch combinations today,” Nat said. “You can thank me for going easy on you today, but I’ll expect twice the effort next week.”

I nodded curtly and dropped to the ground, gawking inwardly. Easy, I thought. This is going easy?

An hour and a half of my blood, sweat, and tears later, Nat and I had taken to the sparring floor. The room was filled with the steady rhythm of our footwork and the sharp crack of my fists hitting the pads on Nat’s arms. Nat, always composed and precise, demonstrated a basic punching combo: a quick jab, a powerful cross, and a swift hook, each strike executed with perfect form. I mirrored her movements, feeling the strain in my muscles and the burn of exertion, but also the satisfaction of each successful hit.

Nat's corrections kept me focused on the task at hand, although I couldn’t help but notice her enthusiasm was less than the weeks prior. Something was off about her. Her stance was more guarded and her blocks were swifter, more threatening. I sent another jab towards Nat’s left side that she quickly deflected. Unexpectedly, the arm opposite mine swung hard and angled so that Nat’s exposed fist made contact with my gut. 

The blow knocked the breath from my lungs. I stumbled back a few steps before inevitably tripping over my own feet and hitting the mat. The whole ordeal made my head spin and I let my back fall against the floor, stunned. 

“Oh shit,” Nat exclaimed. I heard the soft thud of the focus pads hitting the floor as Nat rushed to my side. I was staring up at the ceiling tiles as Nat’s face came into view. She was biting back laughter as she looked down at me. 

“I’m so sorry, птичка,” Nat apologised, pulling me up into a sitting position. “Are you okay?”

I stared up into Nat’s worried eyes for a long second. I could feel the laughter bubbling up in my chest. It came out it chokes and strangled noises. I was pretty sure Natasha thought I was going to cry. The dam broke and I erupted into a fit. Nat joined me in kind and we laughed so hard the side of my ribs that got hit started aching. Neither of us heard the sound of the door unlocking, nor the person watching us from the doorway come inside. 

“I can see that your training is going well.”

Nat and I were both still recovering from our fit as we turned to greet Wanda who stood at the door. She was dressed down compared to Nat and I, sporting a grey hoodie on top of a white t-shirt and sweatpants. She held a smile on her face, but I noted right away that her eyes were clouded in dark circles. It was clear she had been crying. An uneasy feeling tugged at my insides. I wished that I could read her mind the way she read others. I’d never been particularly good at catching emotions on others; I was always too busy wrestling with my own. 

I studied the way she stood, how her posture was fixed and upright. By quick glance she appeared nonchalant, relaxed even. But I noticed the way her arms were crossed protectively over her chest, fingertips pressed so tightly that the skin beneath them went white. Was it bad sleep? Nightmares? We were both known to get them, so maybe she was just tired. I returned Wanda’s gentle smile, wondering silently what upset her. 

[ronearoundblindly]

The Stark Legacy (30)

Tony Stark's Daughter (OC) x Bucky Barnes epic slow burn

Furnace, part of Book III: Power (see previous or series)

Summary: When Tony tries to put Cloak in danger, Lil'Sam steps in, giving her father more to worry about. Later, Samantha realizes she's developed a crush on someone she shouldn't--her friend, Bucky.

Warnings for budding romantic attraction and feelings of insecurity. Mild language. Rated Teen/15+ ONLY. WC 4.2k

CHAPTER THIRTY—August-September 2039

Sam rubbed her eyes furiously. When she slept, she dreamt of staring at even more screens. It was hard to know when she really was awake and working.

Bruce usually blurted out the next question on his lengthy list for Sam to work out an answer to while he continued down the line. Today focused entirely on a problem the team had toyed with for months, but she didn’t know why it was so urgent now. No one told her what was going on…not on purpose, at least, and after months of pushing to be heard and included, to no avail, Sam’s mental investment whittled down to the size of pea. That tiny lump still kept her from sleeping well anyway. 

Sam yawned while Banner mumbled something under his breath before turning to her.

“I’m sending you a mock up for a containment casing. Run diagnostics for allowing sensory control of the Space Stone, will you?”

“No prob, Bob,” Sam said flatly, nearly cross-eyed from fatigue. She adjusted a few parameters in the model before getting up to stretch. “‘Bout time for a pick-me-up, I think.”

She didn’t get the chance to leave the lab.

An alert sounded on Bruce’s console, prompting the doctor to heatedly warn someone over comms that “we aren’t ready yet.” Whoever it was didn’t listen, and after removing his glasses, Banner’s frustrated pinch of the bridge of his nose told her it was her father. By now Sam recognized this as the universal symbol for: No, Tony, please don’t. Bruce pinched his nose often.

Tony burst through the double doors, ordering the men who followed him to clear the center of the room. “The idea is to not blow up the room, but no promises,” he shrugged. He pointed to several tables. “Goes, goes, be careful with that one—”

“It’s untested, Tony.” Bruce stood, shooing a lackey away from snatching the stool he sat on.

Tony stayed facing the door. “Doesn’t matter. Time’s up and we need to see what we are up against.”

“What’s happening?” Sam’s station was pulled over to a far corner. Unsurprisingly, Tony didn’t answer her.

Tyrone walked in, wearing one of the minimal space suits used for travel to the orbiting station. Tony clapped him on the shoulder.

“Good—” Tony held on to the helmet while Ty adjusted a glove “—they’ll be in with it shortly.”

Bruce stepped forward. “If the signal just went off that a ship is outside of the solar system, we have enough time to practice this.”

“Not really,” Tony snapped, “if that’s the main ship of Annihilus, we need to know right now and keep it from getting to Earth. If it’s a scout ship, we need to keep the fleet from getting bigger.”

Sam tried to get close to Ty. “You’re teleporting to space? Have you ever done that before?”

Ty’s dark eyes lowered to fiddle with a clasp.

Tandy raced in, bright red in fury. “Like hell you’re going, Ty.”

Sam turned to Dee. “Have you ever given him enough energy for that?”

“They don’t want me to do it,” Dee choked back, “they want him to use that thing.”

A man and woman carried in a heavily armored trunk. Sam knew what lay inside.

She gripped Ty’s arm. “You can’t touch that thing,” she warned. “Even without direct contact, the radiation exchange damages homosapien tissue, particularly blood vessels.” She turned to her father. “He can’t touch that, Tony.”

“Kid, this is not a negotiation. Cloak here is an Avenger in all but name—that’s next month, right?—so he knows the risk.”

“You can’t expose him to that without testing it,” Sam insisted.

“Sit back down, or leave,” Tony spat back. “This has nothing to do with you.”

Ty interrupted. “Actually, sir, so far I’ve only used Lightforce from Dee—Dagger…sir.”

“I’ve heard you like cereal, too,” Tony added, spinning a finger to speed up the pace of the two charged with the heavy trunk.

“—and he won’t just have a radiation burn from the damn stone. He could die.” Tandy stepped between Tyrone and Tony for good measure. One good grip of Tony without his armor and Dee could have him on his ass.

“Well, I hope not,” Tony said calmly, “but he’s a big boy. Energy is energy, and he’s gonna need a boatload. Move, Black Swan.”

The agents finished the security protocols, opening the trunk to reveal a glorious flash of blue light. Tucked in lead lining sat the Space Stone, a raw ingot of power from the Big Bang itself.

Sam rounded on Tony once again. “You want the info so bad, get it yourself. But Ty isn’t doing random interstellar teleport without practice.”

Tony looked at Tyrone, reaching around Dee to hand the helmet over. “He’s got the coordinates where the ship pinged.”

“Sam, you said it yourself,” Bruce added, “if an apparatus can aid in controlling the energy—”

“We aren’t even sure it’s the right type of energy,” Sam screamed, her anger rising in time with Tandy’s.

Ty coughed for attention. “I want to help, but that distance is going to take a lot out of me. I’m not gonna drain Dee to—”

“No,” Sam and Dee screeched in unison. Fists white with rage as she glared at Tony Stark, Tandy concentrated her power towards her fingers, but before the girl could spray the room with daggers, Sam grabbed her arm, syphoning the Lightforce into herself. 

The light rippled and magnified beneath her skin until a hum was audible across the whole room. “You want your recon so bad,” Sam asked, “you got it.”

Sam smacked her hand down across Tyrone’s forearm, and the two disappeared in an eerie cloud of inky thick fog.

One-hundred and four seconds later, the pair reappeared in the midst of an explosion of yelling between Tony, Bruce, and Tandy. Sam’s frozen body clanked onto the floor. Ty detached his helmet, mid-apology. 

“I didn’t know she was doing it,” he murmured, shaking.

As Tony stood, terror blocking any movement he made, Bruce flung himself forward to check Samantha. Tandy moved Ty away to comfort him, watching the rest intently.

Frostbite receded as the pink returned to Sam’s skin, and in a lengthy, frightful gasp that howled through the room, she started to breath again.

Hoarse still, Sam sat up to look at Ty. “You saw it, right?”

“Yeah,” Ty breathed, “I saw them.”

“Nevermind, I fixed it now,” Sam burst at Tony while rushing away.

He followed, pissed. “Oh, you fixed it? And we’re supposed to take your teenage word for it?” The reverberation in the open Wakandan halls echoed their angry words.

Sam spun around. “Then don’t take my word for it. Take all that oh-so-precious Earth-saving time to check my math. You can help me with my homework.” He felt spit hit his neck Sam was so close. “I’d be so grateful!” She mocked him with a bow.

“You don’t think I’m doing all this for you, so you can be safe here? Pay attention, Sam, I’m afraid of what being around me would do to you.” Tony grabbed her arm, clutching the delicate connection with his daughter. “People hunt me down. They torture. They kidnap. They kill.”

“You’re hurting me.”

“I just want you to—” He heard it again. The snap. The bone under his hand collapsed, making the same hollow sound as Thanos’s fingers on Titan.

Sam’s face sank faster than her body. Her sunken cheeks, the deep grey under her flat brown eyes, the almost plastic gloss of her skin. The sickly face of his daughter morphed with a devious grin. The short hair darkened and pulled back from her face, revealing a sharp peak and crazed eyes. The nose pointed above an equally sharp goatee, and there beneath Tony, arm in his hand, kneeled Lemuel Dorcas.

The grin parted. “How’s our girl doing?”

Tony punched the sweat-soaked sheet off in the dark. Another nightmare. One of hundreds to plaque his life. At least this time Sam didn’t become Pepper, he thought. He could never shake Pepper crying while her arm hung mangled, but nowadays Dorcas crept into these dreams more frequently. He knew it wasn’t real.

The evil doctor’s lingering question echoed in Tony’s mind. Our girl. Who was Sam now? Who did she belong to?

She’d laid cold and unmoving on the lab floor, all to prove him reckless and hotheaded.

Four ships. 

Not a scout, the start of a gathering. They were scanning the system. Tony’s longshot chance was to keep Satellite Station cloaking how advanced their planet was and hope the ships passed them by. Earth needed to go dark immediately.

Tony would never tell her, but Sam may actually have saved them by stopping the use of the stone; that was the exact energy signature they needed to avoid Annihilus detecting. For the first time since the Stone War, he was grateful Vision had never been restored to use the Mind Stone. Perhaps that was the only good thing to come out of its destruction in the facility explosion that killed his wife.

He could use more recon on how the ships were scanning and how much they already knew about Earth. However, after the stunt she pulled, Sam wasn’t allowed near Ty, and even if Ty teleported out there again, how long would it take to find answers? Could they even understand what he’d find?

Four hours of sleep, Tony thought, good enough. He dressed and left for the lab.

Your brain goes to strange places when you’re bored. Sam’s fresh appreciation for life without direction framed the sentiment in gaudy, bright gold in her mind. You’re so far down the rabbit hole…

She’d been banned from her “job” since teleporting. Unable to see Tandy and Tyrone while they took on further Avengers’ duties, Sam lived without interaction most days, lonelier than her basement in Wakanda. She was allowed no tech devices either, seeing as she her proficiency was known and highly suspect by Bruce and Tony.

Bucky suggested keeping a journal. He explained over another homemade lunch that he used to keep notebooks while hiding in Romania. “Helps collect my thoughts, practice what I want to say. Sometimes, when I write out my version of what happened in a confusing situation, I can see it from a different perspective,” he’d explained over tomato soup. Sam had offered her grilled cheese sandwich expertise to compliment the meal. Bucky had even let her use her hands to cook them, though she knew he thought it a little unsanitary.

In her lengthy entries in Composition books, Sam wrote directly to Missy, as if her long gone friend could respond to the new dramas of life with Tony Stark. After a while, her thoughts answered her in Missy’s monotone: flat yet sarcastic, and somehow loving, too.

Nothing distracted her from overthinking one very particular thing Sam noticed: Bucky was always around. Not everyday because he’s got shit to do. He went out of his way to get her out of her room. If Wilson were here, he would too, so would Dee and Ty. When Bucky said goodnight, he hugged her tighter than necessary. Didn’t he? 

It wasn’t meant to be anything more than comforting. Right? Couldn’t be. 

Sam ate like an animal and bowled like an old woman. She’d yelled at him, and she made him angry enough to yell at her. So…Can I be trusted to think this out logically? I’ve died twice this year so far.

He’d woken up to stop her and Tony from fighting…after Big Sam saw them in the atrium. Because he protects people. That’s the job. He protects everyone in the building, everyone in the world. That’s it. Bucky simply saved the day, again…and then kissed my head and smelled my hair…

You think, you don’t know that.

He taught her to cook, multiple meals now. He bowled with her. Like a date, but definitely not a date. He…

Does he smile more? Sam swore Bucky smiled more, but he’d been on other dates. He could like one of them. 

But he touched her shoulder or arm when asking what she was up to or how her day was going. He wanted to talk to her. That’s stupid. He did that before, even on the ship to Wakanda, even at the wedding; I’m only noticing now that I’m bored. 

And you smelled him first. 

Sam sighed. Bucky’s scent was a mix of warm linen, citrus soap, and musk…paired with her daddy-issue tears smudged onto his pectoral. Sam acknowledged that was a little perverted, especially since that olfactory memory eclipsed any part of the accompanying arguments she had with Tony, a relationship that drained her entirely. 

Her emptiness refilled with a wholly different feeling, an antsy excitement, an uncertainty, a deep shame. That’s not normal. Right? He’s simply a good hugger. Oh my god, just shut up!

Her brain warred with her now, as it did everyday recently. Nights were the worst. Sam could keep it together when Tony called her Sass. She could block out some of it while working but pushed aside with no other distraction… 

How does anyone get anything done? Hormones are stupid. 

You’re better than this. Buck up—

GODDAMMIT.

Her discomfort radiated to every cell. Sam wished to scream the tightness in her throat loose, blow apart the pressure crushing her chest with an inferno. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Sam couldn’t do it. She avoided the root of the feeling for weeks. She had a relationship with her father, albeit rocky, one of the only things she had ever truly wanted, but Tony alone wasn’t enough. Dee and Ty weren’t enough. 

The guilt of wanting this, however, him in particular, it threatened to suffocate her soul for a greedy child.

Yet still, each little thought haunted her. Bucky Barnes haunted her. 

Tonight in particular, her room became a stifling prison. In the open air of the grounds, in the dark, the rolling chirp of insects harped a symphony of company. At least this was a cool, breezy prison. She was still alone though, and the heat turned over and over in her gut, growing.

The steely blue halo surrounding the moon became an eye, and the dark, wispy shadows of clouds became long, soft hair. It’s not real. She could feel it between her fingers, and the heat grew. Stupid. The low bass of echoing water spoke to her gently, calling Sam from her screen-dreams to food down the hall, and the heat grew. Quit thinking. Her hand met the button of her jeans to push the blaze back, but then the cool metal slid over her fingers as a familiar military jacket. 

You’ve got to be kidding. 

Sam released her hand, almost crying out in frustration, instead letting a few tears fall in trade for silence.

No, she repeated. No, no, no, no. He’s not yours to want. He’s never going to be yours. Let it go now. Let this die now and move on. But how does something fed by absence, fed by nothing real or logical, die? Nothing encouraged this feeling except fantasy and hormones. Sam was smart enough to know that. Intelligence changed nothing. Intelligence killed no emotion, stifled no threatening bursts of flame. Control was a joke. 

Before she could stop, the tears became soft sobs, broken by uncontrolled heaving breaths. The bugs were loud; the ringing in her ears was louder. The reverberation of warring forces inside her grew violent, the yellow hue under her skin guaranteeing an unhappy resolution. Raising her left arm in anticipation, Sam could feel something inside about to snap.

Arms wove around her chest and waist from behind, gripping her sides with a solid clutch. “I’ve got you. It’s ok,” a beloved voice sounded, “you’re alright.” 

Without permission, her body melted and drained of fight. Where the hell did he come from?

Do you even care?

The void left by her sudden loss of heat was sickening. Sam’s tears flew out as the dam broke. The body so betraying her seemed to double down on its own vulnerability towards Bucky Barnes. Stupid.

Sam collapsed her weight against him, crying like a baby unable to speak. 

“I’ve got you,” he repeated. Bucky slowly released her to sink to the soft grass and sat beside, face to face, his hand calmly resting on her leg. 

Oh, great, watch me cry. Sam struggled to make herself quiet, but the delicious discomfort radiating across her leg slowed her progress to regain equilibrium. She was trying to smother freshly lit kindling.

“Here,” Bucky started, holding out a pair of earbuds, “I find music helps.”

Sam didn’t move. “Helps with what?”

“Sleeping,” he replied. “Nights have always been hard for me.”

Sam tried to swallow, hearing herself gulp to rid her throat of an immovable rock. She settled the headphones in without looking up.

Even with a slow, steady hum of gentle jazz, the lump remained and her tears fell. After a few bars, his hand left her thigh to wipe her cheek, and whether in relish or disbelief, Sam’s eyes closed to push the last salty drops loose. His thumb swept over her cheek one more time.

Sam felt tortured by his presence. She spat at herself internally. 

That is a gross exaggeration. He actually was tortured for years, decades even, and you, little idiot girl, who hasn’t even lived for two decades, have no right. 

She forced her eyes open, sniffing dramatically to move her head away. He returned to clasping his hands around his knees.

Sam braved a peek up. “Oh my god.” She raised her head entirely. “Where’s your hair?”

Bucky laughed, clean shaven and cropped. “I have that effect sometimes.” Sam kept staring. “Captain America needs to be PR ready for November. Nat’s orders.”

The ceremony was set to induct Cloak and Dagger, her best friends if she ever got to see them again, into the Avengers’ team proper. New blood. Fighters. They deserved the honor, but Sam hid her frustration. She was just as powerful, if untrained. 

Whose fault is that?

Sam pulled out an earbud. Her mind went blank, staring. He was a whole different person. Sam had to take in all the new details. Pieces of his face she’d never seen in person before, the ghost of his military portraits from the 40s, like the old footage Sharon had showed her of their unit were brought to life in front of her. She fumbled for words. 

“It’s not always…pain,” Sam finally admitted, eyes darting across his calm face then retreating to the shadowed tree line behind him.

Bucky nodded with a knowing look. His relaxed, pristine face made Sam more uncomfortable. He had no idea. He listened to her nonsense as if it were important, as if she was even intelligible in this blubbering state. She gulped again. Her mouth opened and closed like a gasping, stupid fish. She wiped her face with a shaky hand to break his gaze.

Oh yeah, you’re doing great. Really seductive.

With him sitting right beside her, everything overwhelmed her. The breeze became suffocating with the addition of his musk and a new element, aftershave. She just knew it was there; it was the same air that brushed across his face. The moon that so reminded her of his eyes shone down on them both, and those eyes could see it, too, could see her, too. His soft hair and rough hands were within reach, and Sam’s chest felt crunched between the 18-wheeler of her desire and the pavement of reality.

Bucky remained calm, oblivious, lazily rolling his eyes over the training field and Sam alike. He let the next song play. Sam thought he might be able to hear her pounding heart without his own cover of headphones. Instead, the intoxicating man with dark hair checked his small device and leaned back onto his own bent arms, stretching out like a feral cat beneath the moon. 

She pushed the earbuds back. Sam’s arm twitched involuntarily, clenching against her shirt. You’re killing me here. What’s your next smooth line? ‘I like the way the moonlight hits your crotch?’ Oh, damn it, stop. 

In her mind, she was crawling all over him in a dozen different ways, but then she caught the change in her breathing and slapped a hand violently against her mouth and nose, hard enough to feel a twinge against the nerve running to her eyes. Don’t break your own nose. He didn’t see, did he?

His face is less than four feet away. It’s safe to say he sees you.

Sam was totally unqualified to handle this. Lila had been too old to talk to her about boys. Laura had thrown in a few vague phrases about ‘the right time’ and ‘when you’re ready.’ Nat allowed herself a few crude jokes around Sam before she stopped calling or coming to visit, but not even a mild reference to sex during training. Annie had encouraged her to ‘have fun’ with Lucas because he was a ‘nice guy.’ Meanwhile, her best friend in the whole world was a computer program which could quote anatomically correct articles on the science of attraction and physical intimacy. Sam thought she might throw up just thinking about it. Tandy would know what to tell her if she were here.

You need to let this go. You need to let it die now and move on. The voice in her head was starting to sound like Missy, clinical and objective, unsympathetic.

Bucky had known her since she was a baby. His most vivid memory of her was probably still a four year old screaming at him, calling him a monster while he tried to help her. 

Ungrateful, spoiled brat. That’s all you are to him. End of story. Sam had to tip her hat to the voice of Missy; she sure knew how to quash an argument. The diminishing cracks were soothing in this instance, distracting.

Sam snapped to alert when a hand broke her dead stare at her own crossed arms. Bucky looked down at her with an outstretched arm, waiting. She plucked out an earbud.

“You ready for bed?”

The hell? 

Bucky half-retracted his arm, seeing her shocked face. “You don’t have to,” he corrected, “if you don’t want to.”

Oh, god, shut up! Trying to suppress a firework show under her skin,Sam repeated her imitation of a fish out of water.

“Keep the music if you want,” he added, holding out the control.

That’s not exactly what she wanted, but Sam supposed that was the less awkward of her options. Before she answered, Bucky glanced the song detail on the tiny screen of his player, taking the earbud Sam removed and putting it in his own ear with a smile.

“This is a good one,” he said, grabbing her hand to pull her off the cool ground. “You’ll like this one.” Without warning, playful Bucky pulled her close as if to dance.

His smell assaulted her, muting all thought. The linen and soap wrapped in something sweet she couldn’t place. He was right though; the smooth instrumentals were like a lullaby with the soft swaying movement in his arms.

Words sprang to life mid-song.

“I can’t believe that you’re not here with me, to have a laugh or share a tea with me…”

Sam let herself breath deeply. He smelled like grass, that was the new sweet note. She kept her face away from his chest, but he’d taken one of her hands in his, Bucky’s right hand against her waist. It was a terrible test she was bound to fail.

Her brain gave up, and the music filled her head.

“To never look into those eyes again, the sun might just as well not rise again…”

Sam looked up as the song rang out in one ear, and a falling star caught her eye. She almost thought about how romantic this all was until the fiery streak continued to approach. 

The spot grew, headed straight for the compound. What the hell is that? More alarming still: it turned in the air above the trees to aim at her and Bucky on the lawn.

“Get behind me, Buck.” Sam pushed past him, stirring what she could in her arm, forcing the pressure of her anxiety forward. Fireworks might be necessary.

A silver suit landed twenty meters away. Tony? It looks too small—

Bucky tried to grab Sam’s shoulders to pull her out of the way. “Who are you? Why are you here?” He stepped to the side, a palm on Sam’s stomach, holding her back.

The surface of the humanoid suit rippled into a mimicked body and a face. 

Sam’s face.

“I’m finally able to return to you,” it intoned.

Holy shit, Sam froze. “Missy?”

[Chapter 31: Miss]

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[marveladdictjones]

A Stark of Infinity

Alright, so I started writing a new, longer fic about Eloise Stark, the daughter no one (including Tony) knew existed until Nick Fury dropped her off. I just posted the first 3 chapters on AO3, so if you want to check it out, be my guest

[determinedwriter]

Meet Aurora

I think before I post Whumptober 2023 this year, it would be good to introduce my OC who will be at the center of it. My ocs are often self inserts so I'd say that's also the case here.

So let me get started with basic stuff. Not sure if anyone will care about my posts but here we go anyways. :) credit to gif makers btw give them love.

Aurora Stark portrayed by Daisy Edgar-Jones

This is Aurora "Ro" Anthony Stark. My one-shots/prompt things will take place in a sort of floating timeline where she is anywhere between 15-18 and is sometimes specified in my writing but not always.

She is the daughter of Tony Stark and Ivy Harper (OC) after a one night stand. Ivy and her family are on the run from HYDRA, Ivy's parents knowing more than HYDRA wants them to in fear of being exposed. They are forced to hide away in an unspecified location near Wheeler Springs, California.

Ivy's parents are killed on a supply run, Ivy left to care for herself. On one of her own supply runs she meets Tony at a bar, one thing leading to another and resulting in Aurora.

Ivy Harper portrayed by Anne Hathaway

Ivy keeps her pregnancy a secret from Tony, never seeing him again as she raises Aurora alone for nine years before a HYDRA super soldier finds their hideout and kills Ivy.

Before being killed, Ro is given a letter by her mother with an address on it. Tony's address. Aurora hits the road on her own as a little girl and ends up at Tony's doorstep. Tony soon learns of the circumstances, completely dumbfounded.

Young (9-14ish) Aurora Stark is portrayed by Cailey Fleming

Aurora is touched by Loki's scepter and gains the power of precognition, getting visions of the future from time to time that she can't control. During Iron Man 3, she is experimented on with Extremis to lure Tony just as Pepper is in the og movie. But unlike Pepper, Ro isn't fully fixed by Tony and she gets pyrokinetic powers.

As a teen, Ro goes to Midtown Tech and meets Peter, Ned, and MJ. I want to write a full story on here with the backstory and what happens to Ro during Infinity War and then on, so that's as far as I'll elaborate with the timeline without spoiling what my plans are. :)

Aurora is incredibly smart like her father and creates an AI of her own like JARVIS and FRIDAY, hers being called ARIES. (Aurora's Really Interesting Expert System) and is mostly in the form of an earpiece or in her hero suit as her persona, The Flare.

The best way to explain the way ARIES looks and is like is Aloy's focus in Horizon Zero Dawn.

(Her earpiece. I couldn't find a good gif on here but you can search that if you're curious)

Ro and Tony work in his workshop a lot to bond, Tony being pretty proud of her smarts and different abilities at her young age. Like father like daughter.

To finish this off, I'll share some Daisy Edgar Jones GIFs that I feel show my vision of Ro Stark the best. If you read this far, thanks! And stay tuned for her story and whump related stuff because I hurt my poor OCs lol.

Have a great day, you guys.

Okay I'm done lol. If any of the GIF owners want me to remove their gifs, I will happily do so. You can click on the original creators in the corner there by the gifs themselves to see more. GIF makers doing God's work frfrfr.

anyway, thank you again :)

[illuminati9exists]

In which Genie loses his Aladdin

Summary:

People think Tony lost his heart in Afghanistan. What they missed is that he lost his heart two years before Afghanistan when he lost the most important person in his life his little aladdin . The day he lost her was also the day he lost his heart along with his will to live . Afghanistan actually helped him find a purpose to live. To be alive. To help. IRONMAN was the second best thing that ever happened to him. He had already lost the best thing in his life.

_____________________________________________________________

After an offhand comment from barton tony leaves for his meeting to other side of country. Avengers minus tony gather around for their weekly movie night. Clint finds a new nonexistent movie in Tony's stolen stash which with its title sounds like a disney movie.

'In which Genie finds his Aladdin' sounds like a never released regular Disney movie.

Avengers are going to find a lot about their resident genius playboy by end of this night. Will they be able to come to terms with it or will they question it.

Avengers fanfic I am writing. Stay tuned in for chapters if you like the general idea of what story is implying here 😉. This is my first fic so please point out my mistakes grammatical , proverbial or whatever you guys find. I hope you like it.

[im-not-a-furry-i-just-have-wings]

Sasha Xhen (Pronounces like shen)

I am a woman of Love but will be a Bitch if needed. Love to sleep but hate sleeping at night. Love food but only Ramen, Boba and Cold Cold water.

I kept my own name cuz I'm a bad bitch. I do have powers, it's ✨️ Flight ✨️ I do have wings and plan on using them to fly your ass upstate if you being useless.

In my universe I am apparently Tony Stark and Pepper Potts' daughter??? Not in this atleast. I took Xhen as my last name cuz Stark is just... weird.

And I came I to thsi universe by flapping my wings too hard, don't ask how. Now I'm afraid to flap again.

Sneak peak to my faceeeee

//pic not mine//

And those are lenses, my eyes are dark brown.

[velvrei]

logan dating tony starks daughter !!! like he wants to dislike you soooooo bad because he automatically assumes you’re some spoilt brat who’s always gotten anything and everything that she’s wanted without having to lift a finger but after being forced to spend time with you (probably because of missions) he can’t help but fall head over heels for you!!! that stark charm is definitely something to be in awe of (ur dad and him still despise each other tho)

the other stark

pairing: older!logan howlett x stark!reader

summary: logan finally meets you, tony starks daughter at an avengers gala. as much as he thinks you are a stuck up brat who has everything handed to her, he couldn’t wait to have his hands on you.

warnings: smut, age gap (legal), somewhat forbidden romance, slight degradation, praise kink, cowgirl position, face riding, oral (f receiving), kinda slow burn, kinda enemies to lovers, really filthy smut, intentional overuse of the word fuck at the end, tony is pissed when he finds out

word count: 5k

a/n: don’t look to closely on the gif cause you’ll find the part where i didn’t try

nsfw below the cut!

logan was not looking forward to attending the avenger’s ‘met gala'. mostly because he knew he would be meeting the folks he was supposed to despise the most.

tony stark invited the x-men as a way of trying to mend the rip between the two groups; it was always avengers vs. the x-men, never avengers and the x-men. tony wanted to change that. logan didn’t.

as everyone arrive, there was a little red carpet where several photographers stood, flashing pictures in the hopes of capturing good shots of each of the visitors.

the x-men limo slowly approached the curb, with spectators surrounding the vehicle as everyone exited.

logan huffed and climbed out the door, disregarding the fangirls that surrounded him, eager to get the night over with.

he walked up to the carpet alongside his team, each member getting a solo shot. when it was logan’s turn, he rested his face and let the camera take pictures of him, stood up straight.

he was wearing dress pants, a button up, with the sleeves rolled up just above his forearms, and a black vest over his button up. the shirt easily displayed his muscles, which he claimed was unintentional, but it was vastly intentional.

the paparazzi turned their cameras as another limo pulled up, and out came peter parker, and logan rolled his eyes knowing it was all the younger avengers.

logan couldn’t help but watch as peter stepped to the side, holding his hand out as he watched a woman get out. he gulped, seeing who the woman was.

it was you, tony starks daughter, or so he heard from his team. he had never actually met you. as much as he wanted to persuade himself he wasn't drawn to you, it would be a complete lie.

you were wearing a long, form fitting dress. it was a dark red, almost maroon. you wore gold heels and chunky gold bangles and necklace along with it, making sure it wasn’t just one color, which was something logan noticed.

peter stood at your side and it made logan a bit curious as to what your relationship with him was, but once he saw you two begin bickering he quickly realized it was more of a sibling relationship.

logan felt like he was going through the five stages of grief as the two of you walked over, followed by some others that exited the limo. you walked in front of peter, walking up to the red carpet.

logan was still stood in the middle, he quickly turned his attention in front of him, looking at the camera for the picture.

“logan! pose with tony’s daughter!” one of the men behind the camera shouted. peter shot you a protective look, however you just shook your head, silently telling him to calm down.

logan almost huffed as you walked up next to him, even though you had never met the man, it would be more embarrassing to turn down the offer in front of millions of people.

“logan.” you say.

logan questions the fact you know him, wondering if he should’ve done his research beforehand.

“y/n.” he responds. he knows your name, and that’s it. he knows nothing else about you, and he is almost sure he doesn’t want to know.

the more he stood next to you, the longer he saw how many times you posed for the camera, wanting to roll his eyes but holding back knowing that would definitely get caught on camera.

you gave a small smile to the camera, turning to logan as you stood next to him. the two of you stood together, nothing more.

logan saw it as awkward, while you thought nothing of it, walking off the red carpet as he followed, quickly finding his team in attempt to avoid speaking to you any longer.

…

it had been an hour and logan hadn’t seen you again sense the introduction. he knew he was bound to be brought back to you again, but he didn’t want to be the cause of it.

logan finally spotted wade, approaching him, trying to pretend that wade wasn’t his comfort person.

“well hello my second favorite furball! i’ve missed you.” wade’s words make logan roll his eyes.

“missed ya too, bub. i barely know anyone here.” logan admits, quietly. he looks around the room to see if he saw anyone else he was comfortable with, but he just saw you in the corner, casually chatting with thor.

wade gasps, beginning to speak loudly on purpose. “the wolverine doesn’t know people-” wade starts but logan covers his mouth, staring daggers into his eyes.

“shut the fuck up. now is not the time.” logan says rather quiet, seeming a bit panicky as wade furrows his eyebrows.

wade goes to say a muffled remark but catches where logan’s distress is coming from. logan slowly lets go of wade’s mouth, watching as wade’s face brightens as if a light bulb had just been placed over his head.

“is billionaire bitch still your opp?”

“stop fucking talking like that.”

wade couldn’t help but giggle. “is it because of tony? he’s trying to make amends, stud muffin. i don’t know why you’re stressed.”

logan goes to respond, but takes a second, actually processing. “i- i don’t know why i’m stressed either if im being honest.”

wade smiled, appreciating the fact that his friend was actually processing his feelings instead of pushing away. that was something wade had taught logan, which was something wade had learned from his therapist.

“logan, you can’t hate the avengers forever. we’re gonna be forced to work with them. and as much as you may hate the starks, i’ve already looked at the first mission list and you’re partnered up with stark’s daughter.”

logan practically chokes on his champagne as wade speaks his last sentence. logan didn’t know whether to be curious or incredibly annoyed.

“oh, fuck me…” logan complains, rubbing his forehead.

wade holds back a giggle, “oh, i’m sure she will.”

with a smack to wade’s arm, the two boys noticed you and your father making your way over to them. logan almost cussed out tony in his head.

tony walked up, you not far behind your father, you have wade a side hug and gave logan a hand shake, that was strangely quick. tony smiled his millionaire smile. “thank you guys for joining us tonight. so glad you could make it, and i’m so happy we can finally kill this little rivalry.”

you knew your dad was being fake, but it wasn’t your place to say anything, especially when it was against wolverine and deadpool.

logan spoke the words, “i’m happy to be here,” but his face showed different, which earned him a smack in the arm from wade.

“i bet. we have a lovely spread of finger foods and you’re more than welcome to help yourself to some more champagne. would’ve told you how expensive it was before you decided to chug it all, however that’s okay.”

logan literally bit his tongue to stop himself from retaliating. if it was really okay as tony offered, tony wouldn’t care of the price.

after a few more dreadful minutes of banter between the two, and many side eye looks between you and wade, tony walked away, leaving just you, wade and logan.

which wade quickly saw himself out. “i’m gonna go find the woman with the magic hands, been dying to meet her. you two fartknockers try not to kill each other, okay?” his voice seemed so sarcastic but wasn’t, which made you almost smile.

wade walked away and left the two of you there. logan sighed as you started talking.

“you know, you don’t have to avoid me, logan.”

logan’s eyes shot up into yours. he wasn’t avoiding you. was he? “excuse me?”

you almost huffed, watching as his body tensed up. you stood up straight, even though you were still a bit shorter than him. “logan. i am not my father.”

your words cause logan to scoff. logan knew you weren’t your father. he just saw you as an exact replica of your bloodline. he didn’t want to say that right to your face, but you noticed he was processing a response, so you ignored the awkward silence and let him get his thoughts in order.

“obviously, you’re not him. your father is a 55 year old billionaire with a mustache. however you two are more similar than you think.”

his words make you think for a minute, deciding to keep the conversation a bit flirty, as much as you convinced yourself it wasn’t a good idea.

“listen, my father and i are just like you and wade. one is the caustic, sassy fighter who never knows when to quit. and the other is the hot one who simply follows the other's example.” your remarks force his brow to furrow.

out of the long phrase you just said, logan only processed one thing. “did you just call me hot?”

you smiled, batting your eyelashes before answered. “no, i called myself hot. you just happened to assume we’re similar, proving my point.”

logan hated how self centered you were. key word, hated. logan slowly realized how attractive your confidence was, but covered it up through his grunts and complaints of how stuck up you were. you weren’t wrong at all. you were hot, and there was nothing he could do about it.

logan rolled his eyes, “of course. you evil woman.” his words were half sarcastic, but you smiled, quickly remarking to his comment.

“you can call me evil, lo, but you can’t call me ugly.” and with that you walked away, leaving him there in his thoughts for the second time that night.

logan huffed. he would be lying if he said your words didn’t get to him. but he couldn’t. he was over half your age, and your father was the one person on this earth he couldn’t stand.

…

the first mission was the hardest. you and logan didn’t agree on much, the two of you couldn’t even decide on what food the team should get after the mission.

with each mission, logan felt his hatred for you slowly slipping away. as much as he tried to keep it because of who your father was, he couldn’t help but secretly adore you. your confidence, your skills, your remarks.

when you shared missions, logan was always paired with you. wade was sometimes there, but sometimes it was just the two of you. logan was the muscles, while you were the brains.

as much as he hated that, each mission he found it easier and easier to protect you. at first, he almost didn’t want to, so that way you could possibly learn your lesson.

then, by the third mission, he was protecting you like you were his own. you noticed those changes, knowing you were slowly getting to the man.

it was the aftermath of the fifth mission. all the avengers and x-men rented out a hotel through tony’s card. it was a smaller one, but was able to fit everybody. each partner was neighbored, but thankfully for logan not in the same room if opposite genders.

so logan was lucky enough to have a room to himself, however, that meant sleeping on his bed, knowing yours was on the opposite side of the wall. the walls weren’t exactly thick, which made it harder for him to keep himself together.

he felt filthy as he listened to your phone conversation with one of your friends. he refrained his interest and was just laying in his bed, reading a book when something you said striked his interest.

he assumed your friend asked about the person you were partnered up with, because as soon as your name left his mouth he couldn’t help but listen.

“yeah, i’m with logan.” he perked up, placing a book mark into his book before placing it onto his nightstand. he felt creepy listening in on your conversation, but convinced himself he had every right because he heard his name.

he heard nothing but mumbles from your friend, before he heard you speaking again.

“yeah, i can’t even lie, everytime i walk past him i just… there’s just something about him being my dad’s least favorite person that makes me want him even more.”

logan was at a loss for words. you wanted him? no. you couldn’t. he was practically forbidden. he felt like a pervert at the fact that his pants were tightening.

the friend laughed, and logan was not tuned out from your conversation, wondering what should be done from there. he quickly reminded himself that was your private conversation that he wasn’t supposed to hear, so what he knows must remain a secret.

…

logan usually wasn’t one to get much sleep, especially during the nights during missions, and especially only hours ago he found out you had the hots for him.

it was around two in the morning. he tossed and turned, trying to figure out what he should do.

he paused, throat feeling dry. he stood, throwing on his pajama pants, not bothering to wear a shirt before he left his hotel room, walking down the single set of stairs to the mini den, where there was a small kitchen and some lounge chairs.

he unintentionally scanned the room, catching you sitting in one of the lounge chairs, book in hand and your reading glasses sat low on your nose.

he swallowed his spit, walking over the the cupboard and grabbing a small glass, filling it with clean tap water from the sink.

the noise of the water running through the sink brought you from your reading trance, you took your glasses from your face and set your book down, finally noticing logan’s presence.

you slowly stood up, and logan tried to ignore your actions. looking out the window above the sink and quickly downing his water.

before he could leave the room you stopped him. “got somewhere to be?” your words made him sigh, head falling down as he turned his body to you.

he shook his head, realizing his attempt to avoid you was unsuccessful. you gave him your signature smile, not breaking eye contact even though he was tempted to.

“just tired.” his eyes tell different. he wasn’t tired at all. just couldn’t sleep. he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to now that he was down here with you.

“why are you lying to me? why are you avoiding me?” your words slow down as you mention him avoiding you, making sure your sentence really sinks in to his mind.

you couldn’t help but eye his shirtless figure, noticing how defined his abs we’re and feeling yourself become wet because of how manly he looked.

he notices your eyes and gulps, you watch his adams apple bob, and he suddenly realizes he needs to not look like a fucking pussy, even though he feels like one.

“why do you care?” his voice is back to his usual raspy. there’s your boy. you smile, finally recognizing he was back to the grumpy man you know and forbiddingly wanted.

“am i supposed to not care because my dad doesn’t? because i’ve told you many times. i am not my father.”

logan couldn’t help but search your body up and down. his act of checking you out, which you caught, makes your smile grow. “clearly not.” logan murmurs.

you eyebrows raise, your eyes never leaving his. “is that flirty comment leaving your mouth?” your words make him almost stutter but he takes a deep breath to stop himself from being vulnerable around you.

“no. it’s only flirting if you take it that way. i’m not flirting with you. i can’t.” logan’s last words make you curious. was he not flirting because he didn’t want to, or cause he couldn’t?

“you can’t? cause of my dad? fuck who my dad is. as much as i love him he’s gotten in the way of almost everything i’ve wanted that didn’t follow his path for me. i’m not letting him ruin this for me.” his breath quickened as you continued, “sometimes a girl needs to be taken care of. no matter who it is..”

your words make his eyes widen. he didn’t even know what to say.

we’re you flirting with him? he knew based on your phone call earlier that you wanted him because of the thrill it brought. but was that the only reason? did you actually want him?

“is that right?” his voice is low, trying to hide his desperation, and his words make you realize you’ve got him. he’s slowly letting down his forbidden barrier.

which is exactly what you wanted.

you step closer to him. “exactly right.” you were so close to him, only a few inches from his face, his husky breath fanning your face, you were able to smell his minty toothpaste from when he brushed his teeth just a few hours before.

you smiled, trailing a hand down his arm, watching satisfied as he shivered beneath your touch. “feels good, doesn’t it?”

logan backed up, finally letting his head reprocess what was happening. “no. y/n. we can’t. we can’t.” he repeats, and you can’t tell if he’s convincing you, or himself.

"why not? cause of my dad? don't you want to anger him? make him mad? isn't that what you've always wanted? well his daughter is standing right here, begging you to take care of her, to show her how she deserves to be taken care of."

logan almost moans at the thought. you step closer to him again, hand running down his arm.

you watched as he shivered, but instead of stepping back this time, he leans into your touch.

he sighs, your touch calming his nerves. he looks down at you, jaw clenching. "i'm.. too old for you. you deserve someone younger."

his words almost make you scoff in disagreement, and you couldn't help but disagree more with him.

"younger? all the guys my age are either assholes or taken, logan. i need someone older, to take care of me, to show me what it's like to be treated right, and fucked good. wouldn't you rather that that be you, rather than another man your age?"

it's like you knew just what to say, because he was standing there, as his dick hardened in his pants at your words.

he wanted you so bad. he didn't know what to say. he wanted to protest, for your sake, all he knew is that he wanted you so fucking bad.

your name tumbles from his lips, trying to think of what to say next.

“don’t tell me we can’t. because we can. we can do whatever we fucking want. we’re adults, aren’t we, lo?”

he sighs as the nickname slips from your mouth, he bites his lip, looking down at you, searching your eyes for any hesitation. he found none. just pure lust. he almost moaned as you gazed into his eyes, pupils dilating slightly.

“we are.” is all he says, eyes looking from your pupils, down to your lips. he licked his, eyes sharpening as he perked up.

you smiled up at him, batting your eyelashes, practically daring him to make the first move.

you decided to tease him a bit more, knowing exactly how to irritate him.

“i could always, go find another older guy to take care of me.” your words caused him to growl, slightly, jaw clenching at the thought of you with another boy, let alone an older guy.

“hell no. you’re mine.” his words make you smile, your expression still facing away from him as you turned your head, raising your eyebrows at him.

“i’m yours?” your words slightly questioning him, “prove it.”

at that moment, logan felt all his control slipping away.

the moment he’d been waiting for had finally come, he could finally devour you the way he had dreamed about many nights before.

you started to walk away, but he grabbed your arm, pulling you back in his direction and turning you around.

his hand wrapped around the back of your neck, his other on your waist, bringing you closer and finally connecting your lips with his.

he moaned into the kiss, knowing this was the moment he’d been waiting for. his lips were hungry, he was hungry.

logan let his hands roam along your body, both going down to grab your ass, squeezing and chuckling as you squealed into his mouth, taking that as his chance to slide his tongue into your mouth, touching yours.

he couldn’t help but moan as your lips wrapped around his tongue, sucking on it.

your eyes looked at his. causing his body to tremble at how dirty you were being.

he quickly squeezed your ass again, as the two of you continued to kiss, spreading your legs and picking you up, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“who knew you were so fucking naughty.” he whispered against your lips, pecking them after speaking then setting you onto the counter.

he stood in between your legs, hands running up your thighs, noticing how short your sleep shorts really were.

he kissed you again, kissing your jaw and continuing down your neck.

he made out with the sensitive skin just below your chin, panting as your head fell back gently against the cupboard.

his hands slowly went under your t-shirt, nails running against your torso, and up to your chest, squeezing, hearing as you moaned, quickly bringing one out and covering your mouth.

“gotta stay quiet, sugar. wouldn’t want your father hearing and getting curious.”

you moan into his hand, and he just chuckles at you, enjoying how needy you’re being just for him. he’s grunting against your skin, his hand moving faster than his brain.

he tries to ignore the fact his dick is practically leaking in his pants as his hand runs up your thigh, closer and closer to your core.

his face is still in your neck, as his hand pushes your shorts and underwear aside, his other still around your mouth to silence your sounds.

he quickly slips a finger in your pussy, smiling into your neck as he feels you moan into his hand. he pressed a kiss against your neck, as he wasted no time, thumb rubbing against your clit as his finger penetrated your hole.

he stuck another finger in, loving the fact he had you trembling under him. his two fingers curved inside of you, watching as your thighs shook at his unexpected action.

you whined into his hand, almost biting down onto his fingers.

he noticed that and removed his hand for a brief second before slipping his fingers into your mouth.

his lips moved from your neck to your ear. “god, look at you, letting my fingers stuff two of your holes,” he moaned around your fingers, smiling to himself as he shoves them down your throat.

his fingers leave your mouth after making you gag, his other set of two fingers still inside your pussy.

his other hand went to your neck, holding it as he licked a long stripe up and kissed it, nibbling on your soft skin.

“fuck, if your dad walked down right now and saw how much of a slut you’re being for me. would piss him off so bad, wouldn’t it, sugar.”

his words made you bit your lip, holding back your whimpers and whines as his fingers relentlessly pounded into you.

you finally let out a whimper, causing his smile to grow, his fingers leaving your pussy, leaving you slightly stretched out.

he placed a sweet, quick kiss to your lips before slipping you off the counter and into his arms, carrying you bridal style.

he walked you upstairs to his hotel room, kicking the door open then kicking it closed behind him.

“sweet girl couldn’t handle being quiet, felt too fucking good didn’t it?”

he set you down, forcing you to stand, sitting himself on the bed. he unintentionally manspread, holding himself up on his elbows. “come on sugar. strip for me.”

his words only encouraged you, smiling as you took off your shirt in a teasingly slow manner, leaving you in your lace bra and skimpy pajama shorts.

he bit his lip, eyeing you up and down. normally you’d feel intimidated, but you’d been waiting for this moment for weeks. there was no time to be intimidated by him.

you smiled as you slowly slid your shorts down your legs, revealing the matching panties, causing his head to fall back.

“a matching set? you planned this, didn’t you?”

all the dots connected in his head and he couldn’t help but moan at the thought of you planning to seduce him, and the fact you wanted him that bad to make a whole plan.

he brought his hand up, using his two fingers to signal you closer. without a word you stepped closer to him.

you straddled his body, leg wrapping around his waist, before you move his elbows and push him back onto the bed.

he moaned as you did so, looking up at you with wide eyes. “oh? is that how we’re feeling, sugar?” his words only made your confidence grow, palms resting on each of his pecks.

you tilted your head slightly, bringing one hand down to his pants, slowly palming the sensitive area you were sitting on.

“yeah, don’t act like it doesn’t turn you on, either. i feel you through your pants. your little friend here’s practically screaming for me to touch him.”

your hand palms him, slowly gaining speed as logan feels his breath hitch, heart skipping a beat. the friction of your hand manipulating his clothed dick only made him harder, head falling back onto the bed, as his back arched like a slut.

the material of his pajama pants stimulating his cock in all the right places.

at this point your cunt was sticky, logan could almost feel it through the two articles of clothing, forgetting the fact yours was extremely thin.

“feels good, doesn’t it? you were already so fucking hard, lo. does it turn you on that i’m so much younger than you? that this is forbidden?” your words only make his hips buck into your hand, mouth falling open.

you smiled grew, biting your lip as you watched his desperate. “god, it does, doesn’t it? you gonna let me ride you?”

logan moaned and nod his head, “if i’m not inside you within the next ten seconds i’m flipping you over and fucking you myself.” his words made you moan, losing your dominance, feeling the sudden need for him to demolish you.

“really, you don’t want me to sit on your face?” logan’s mouth watered at your words, quickly changing his mind.

he moaned, “wait, fuck yes. give it to me. come here and sit on my fucking face.”

you stood off him, slowly taking off your panties, then bracing yourself and climbing back on top of him, slowly making your way up to his face. you smiled, seeing logan’s desperate expression, as if he needed your pussy in order to live. he yearned for you, and it made you wetter at the sight.

you slowly hovered over his face, lowering onto his mouth, moaning as soon as his nose rubbed against your clit.

his tongue immediately went to your hole, tongue fucking you. you couldn’t help but squirm, moaning again as you felt his arms wrap around your thighs, holding you onto his face.

logan is loving the desperate way you try to bite your lip to keep yourself from being too loud, as if anyone was up at this hour.

"eating me so fucking good," you moan out, feeling as logan moans against your cunt, your words were like fuel to him, and he found himself bucking his hips at nothing because of how beautiful and desperate you sounded.

you adored how eager he was for you, causing you to scream as he moved his tongue quicker, eventually moving his entire face after noticing your liking for his nose on your clit.

he was getting so into it, being so messy, pussy clenching around his tongue, but he slowly removed his arms from your legs, lifting you off his face, then down to his abs, uninstall sitting your clit onto his hard abs, causing you both to moan.

“fuck, need you to cum on my dick, you can cum on my face later. i need you now. need you to ride me so good.”

logan moaned out as you quickly moved down, pulling down his pants and boxers, and with no warning, quickly sinking onto his dick.

logan moaned out slightly louder than you, making your smile grow.

you slowly took your hair out from the ponytail it was in, letting it fall down. logan looked up at you in awe, watching as you started to ride his cock.

“i’ve imagined this so many times, and god, nothing is better than it actually happened. you’re so fucking beautiful.”

you smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips, cupping his cheek before placing your hands to his v-line, using his hot body to brace yourself as you rode his thick cock.

as you began to bounce, logan was a moaning mess. he started fucking up into you, “come on sugar, ride it.”

his words of encouragement made your moans become louder. he smiled up at you, his hands now holding your hips, holding you in place as he fucked up into you.

“that’s it, baby. take it, take my fucking cock. so fucking tight around me.” he eyes moved from your glowing body, down to your pussy, practically sucking his dick in.

“look at you, sucking me in so good, like she was made for me. fuck.” he looked at your stomach, practically seeing a bulge move in and out of you.

“can see me in your tummy, fuck,” he points out, and you look down and moan. you smiled at him, watching his glistening body, as sweat droplets formed on his forehead.

“god that’s so hot, you’re so fucking big. told you i needed an older guy to take care of me.”

his name tumbles from your lips, he sees you in your desperate state. the two of you both feel your climaxes reaching closer, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer if he kept talking to you like that.

“good fucking girl.” his voice was so low and raspy, you couldn’t help but moan.

logan enjoyed the fact he had tony stark’s daughter currently bouncing on his cock, begging for more. it was forbidden, and the thought alone almost made him cum.

“you keep talking to me like that i’m gonna cum,” your voice is desperate and needy, and that turns him on to the max, slowly feeling himself reach the edge. he grunts, jaw clenching, feeling himself go almost animalistic, he grunts through his teeth.

“come on sugar. that’s it. cum on my fucking cock. riding me so fucking good i’m gonna cum myself. want you to moan so loud tony hears you from the floor below and knows his arch nemesis is fucking his daughter. wanna see my cum spill out of this sweet little pussy of yours.”

his words carry you over the edge, as he continues to talk you through it. “that’s it, bub, i’m so fucking close. this pretty little pussy is sucking me in so good, yeah i feel you clenching. dick so good it has you trembling, huh, sugar?” you cum on his cock, legs shaking as you stop bouncing, but logan grabs your hips and drills into you, chasing his own climax.

you feeling extremely overstimulated, you couldn’t control your whimpers and whines and how loud you were. logan finally came with you, mouth falling open as he grunted, moaned, and even almost whimpered.

your eyes scrunch shut, when you finally are able to open them you see logan under you, body glistening in sweat, his eyes closed shut and his head pushed back into the pillows, holding your hips so tight, like if he lets you go you’ll leave.

you smile as you come down from your high, logan quickly following you, his smile growing as his eyes meet yours again.

“that what you meant when you said take care of you?” his cocky words make you smack his bare chest, slowly pulling off him, your cum and his cum slowly spilling out of you, getting both of your attention.

“fuck, that’s so fucking hot,” logan mumbled under his breath.

you almost moaned again, feeling empty as you pull his cock out of your pussy, the cum dripping onto his v-line and abs, making your smile grow.

“yes, this is what i meant. fucked me so good.” you giggled, going to get up but logan flipped you over gently and pushed you down onto the bed.

“lay here, sugar. i’ll clean you up.”

logan grabs a damp, warm rag from the bathroom of his hotel room, bringing it to you and wiping up the cum, once you’re fully clean he tosses it into the hamper across the room. he goes to his bag, grabbing one of his shirts and walking over to you.

he smiles and carefully brings it over your head, finding your tired state adorable.

once you have the shirt on, you lay down in the bed, pulling the covers over you sleepily, as he puts his pajama pants back on, climbing back into bed next to you.

…

the next morning, logan isn’t in bed with you, you check the time and it’s about 10am. your mission didn’t start for another few hours, so you decided to go downstairs and get yourself some of the hotel breakfast.

you slipped on some sleep shorts and slowly walked out of your room, down the stairs and into the kitchen where breakfast was being served.

you walked over to the counter, putting waffle batter into the waffle maker and turning around, trying to find your dad within the many avengers and x-men sat around the mini tables, but when you saw almost everyone staring at you, some with their mouths slightly open, you became confused.

you turned to see your dad, tony, sat at a table with steve, thor and bruce.

tony almost gasped as you turned around and continued making your waffle, not caring how loud he was.

“why the fuck does the last name on the back of you shirt say howlett.” as soon as your dad reveals that information, you avoid turning back around to face him.

logan smiles from his seat, watching as tony slowly turns to look at him at the table near him.

tony’s eye twitches as he looks over at logan. logan unfortunately cant hide his amused expression, almost giggling at the situation, watching as wade walks into the room, also noticing the back of your shirt.

wade jumps up and down, clapping his hands together. “is that logan’s shirt! omg, they finally fucked!”

bruce and thor can’t help but giggle to each other, as steve holds in his laugh.

tony eyes shoot from wade to logan, practically shaking from how mad he was. it was something logan wanted to take a picture of and remember forever.

“you stuck your dick in my fucking daughter!?” tony’s loud, obviously unhappy voice made you slowly turn around, you and logan making eye contact trying not to break into laughter.

“am i the only one furious at this? why the fuck are you all fucking laughing!?” tony shouts, standing up, almost spilling his coffee all over the table.

…

a/n: don’t forget to comment and tell me your thoughts ;)

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Tony Stark’s child

Tony Stark x child!reader

warnings: alcohol ment,

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

prompt:

you we’re quite the exhausting kid

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

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

“yeah, boss, i imagine it was” -happy

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

actually, it usually went like:

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

“a party” -you

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

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

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

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

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

“we’ll see about that” -you

^the above conversion went about the same every time

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

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

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

“you were out late” -you

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

“sure, one or two” -you

“make it three” -tony

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

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

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

but only to tony and only for fun

“oh, great, where’s my car?” -tony

“which one?” -pepper

“the black one!” -tony

“be more specific” -pepper

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

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

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

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

“i am…so proud” -tony

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

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

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

“sorry” -you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“my social status” -you

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

“you’d be surprised” -you

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

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

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

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

*clint side eye*

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

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

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

especially around such powerful people

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

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

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

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

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

which was true

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

“no!” -you

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

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

[belxveds]

Could you write a fic where the reader is Stark’s daughter and he catches her and Peter fooling around in her room/main room whilst they think he is out?

caught in a web of kisses

pairings: peter parker x f!reader, tony stark x daughter!reader

brief: (requested!) misunderstandings and compromising situations with peter lead to a whole of cackling and screaming throughout the stark tower compound. a brief look into the life of y/n stark and your struggles with your stupidly overprotective dad and chaotically cute boyfriend.

tags: humour. fluff. borderline crack fic. "enemies" to lover. established relationship.

a/n: thank you so much for requesting! i appreciate it :) it always makes fills me with so much joy to know someone seeks out my writing <3

requests are open!

wc: 1.4k

Perhaps it wasn't your smartest idea to pretend to absolutely despise your father's intern in front of your parents and the Avengers but . . . well- how could you possibly resist yourself when it was so much fun sharing sneaky, mischievous smiles with Peter as you both shot teasing glares across the room to maintain your appearance as rivals?

Plus, it was just a little prank to keep your relationship with Peter, as well as the days spent at the compound, more interesting. If anything, you and Peter were single handedly entertaining the entirety of Avengers with your debates and arguments. You were fairly sure they had bets going on about the two of you. It was harmless, really.

And it wasn't like you were going to keep it from them forever! You would tell them . . . eventually. You just- hadn't thought anyone would find out like this. With you and Peter in such a . . . compromising situation?

You almost let out a small groan of exhaustion as you sunk into the unnecessarily large couch your dad had purchased for the lounge, melting into Peter's side as you fiddled with the remote to lower the lights and dim the windows. Pouting at the sliver of light that still managed to peek through the sunroof, you let out the smallest huff as you closed that as well before turning to take a glance at your boyfriend.

He let out a small yawn before shifting with your attention on him, cuddling into you tighter as he murmured, "You sure no one will be back for another 2 hours? 'Cause I swear if we get caught because you wanted to take a nap on the couch, I will never let you live this down."

Snuggling deeper into the blanket you'd draped over the two of you, you couldn't help but let out the smallest breathless laugh as you responded, "That's if they don't kill you first."

"Hey!" Peter quipped, voice growing the tiniest bit slurred as the nap you promised him began to look awfully tempting, "I'll have you know that I think your dad and also everyone else is quite fond of me, alright?"

You couldn't help but let out a snort as you mocked, pretending to push up fake glasses on the bridge of your nose as you raised the pitch of your voice, "I'll have you know-"

The gentle whack you got on your arm made you stop mid-sentence as you giggled, answering your boyfriend more seriously, "Everyone's schedule says they have stuff going on until at least 6:00, unless they were all just to magically-"

"What happened to, "God dad, if I have to see your stupid intern's face one more time, you're going to have to hold me back from stealing your repulsors and pulverizing the shit out of him?""

You're entire body pauses as you feel Peter tense in your arms, the both of you wincing in sync as you slowly, cautiously, turn your head around to face your dad, voice dragging out as you say nervously, "Uhm...so you see-".

Peter's bewilderment is audible as his head snaps to you, eyes furrowed in confused amusement as he hisses, "Why the fuck are you starting to quote Dhar Mann right now?"

"Peter", your dad interrupts, tone much too pleasant for the situation at hand and consequently sending both your spines into automatically locking up straight as you await his next move, fight or flight instincts activated, "You have 3 seconds to run."

"Mr. Stark, we can talk about this-"

"3 . . ."

"Oh shit!", your boyfriend scrambles, legs tangling into themselves and the blanket in his attempts to get free and run as he presses a ragged kiss to your forehead while declaring muffled through his panicked breath, "If I don't make it out of this alive, just know I wanted you to have my babies and be Y/N Parker-Stark."

The confession sends a surprised wheeze to rack through your body as you see him begin to take down the hallway, sparing a glance over his shoulder at you and your dad before maneuvering himself onto the ceiling and into the vents.

Your eyes tearing up from laughter, you try to speak through your immobilizing giggles as you address your dad, "Dad, father dearest, please- come on- spare him-" "2 . . ." "Dad! C'mon- you have to admit . . . from a completely scientific and objective lens with zero romantic emotions taken into account, considering all the teenage boys out there, Peter is definitely one of the better choices", you tried to level, summoning the critically-acclaimed award winning Y/N Stark inside of you and not the moderately concerned girlfriend worried that her boyfriend's cause of death may in fact be the same repulsors Peter had helped your father tweak in the lab earlier today. How unfortunately ironic. Shuffling over, albeit a bit awkwardly, to where your dad stood, you cautiously peered closer at his profile, trying your best to assess exactly how much trouble you were in. You knew deep down, he truly wasn't all that upset, though, maybe a bit grumpy about having been kept out of the loop for this long. In fact, you were positively confident he was quite happy with who you had chosen. Despite all of his teasing and successfully accomplished fatherly duties of bullying the both of you, it was stupidly evident how much he cared for Peter like a son. Not just anyone was allowed to intern for the Tony Stark, after all.

Lost in thought, you couldn't help but yelp slightly and flinch into your father's side as a muffled voice echoed down from the ceiling, cooing, "Aww Y/N, you really mean that?"

Cursing at your boyfriend's surprising lack of self preservation skills taking into consideration his literal job and particular set of talents, you glared upwards. Hoping your disappointment at his lack of distance somehow radiated through the insulated plaster, you deadpanned, "No, I was just playing. I wish I'd gotten with Harley."

"What?!" squeaked Peter, like a little vent rat, his offended gasp echoing in time with your dad's final countdown.

Giggling once again at Peter's frightened scuttling at the realization that he was out of time, you quickly reached to grip at your dad's suit clad bicep before he could make a motion to call at the Iron Man suit, your voice taking on a more serious tone as you asked softly, his opinion and approval still highly valuable to you, "You're ok with me and Peter dating though? Genuinely?"

The twitch of his signature smirk on the corner of his lips and the nodding glint in his eyes sent a happy thrill through your heart, instinctively grinning wide as you squealed and rushed to give him a tight hug, speaking through a stifled smile into his chest, "Ok, you have my consent to go squish my little spider now. Please don't bring him back to me flattened or burnt- I quite like how he is now." Your father's wrinkled nose and vocal sound of disgust at how you'd addressed his intern sent you into another fit of laughter as he spoke, "Ground rules since I know the kid's out of his freaky super-hearing range. One, ew. Never address him like that again, I might vomit. Two, if I see the two of you touch, I am immediately invoking a 50 year social-distancing ban between the two of you. 6 feet and everything. I'll throw in permanent masks if I ever catch you two kissing. Three, . . . no promises."

"In response- One, . . . no promises. Two, you don't want spider grandbabies crawling up the walls? All I'm hearing is that we can't get caught. Three, I'll tell mom", you grinned pulling back, your gaze filled with amusement and the look of humoured adoration you often had reserved specifically for your dad as he let out a little whine in complaint at your threat of telling Pepper.

It would just be a little rough up. You know, the classic "hurt my daughter and you're dead" speech. And Peter was Spider-Man! He'd be fine . . . probably.

mailbox ༶•┈ peter parker's mailbox! ┈•༶ send letter

[upat4amwiththemoon]

Hey I’m sorry to bother, but can you do a Tony x teen reader? Platonic or familial obviously, but like where the reader isn’t smart academically and she’s constantly doing bad on tests and Tony comforting her? It’s fine if not thank you for your time either way :)

Academic validation

Summary: Tests aren’t the only thing that determine children’s intelligence.

Pairing: Tony Stark x teen!reader, Avengers x teen!reader

Warnings: I have no understanding of American education system

Word count: 870

a/n: I need that academic validation

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore

masterlists | guidelines

The huge encircled D on Y/N’s physics exam is the only thing on her mind as she walks towards the Avenger’s tower.

There’s a permanent frown on her face. She really studied for this test, she even got Tony to quiz her, but clearly that didn’t help. He’s going to be so disappointed in her.

Y/N walks into the tower, giving the security guard in the lobby a small wave before going into the elevator. She holds onto her backpack’s straps tightly as she waits for the elevator to stop on the common floor. She hopes Tony won’t be in there.

The elevator doors opens and Y/N gets out of it. Her steps are slow and quiet, she doesn’t want to announce her arrival to anyone. A shaky sigh leaves her mouth when she hears people talking in the common room.

She tries to walk past everyone, quickly but quietly, but it’s not very easy to sneak past Avengers. “Hey, kid!” Sam exclaims, waving her over to the small group hanging out on the couches.

Y/N lets out a breath, putting on a smile as she makes her way over to them. “Hi, guys.” Her eyes move over everyone. No Tony, that makes her relax just a bit. “What are you doing?”

Natasha’s arm is is laying on the couch’s back rest, her fingers gently rubbing Wanda’s shoulder, as she gives Y/N a cheeky look. “Wanda got offended when Sam said Fuller House is better than Full House, so she is making us watch Full House.”

Wanda pushes Natasha’s side, glaring at her before turning to Y/N. “No one in their right mind thinks a sequel of an iconic show is better than the show itself.” At the end of the sentence, she glares at Sam too, who raises his hands in mock surrender.

“Okay.” Y/N giggles with a shake of her head. At times she thinks of herself more mature than the adults.

“Want to join us, honey?”

“Uh,” she bites her lip, “no, I can’t sorry.” She has decided to beg her teacher for a retake of the test to get a more respectable grade to show Tony.

“Okay, but don’t think you’re getting away from watching Full House with me.” Wanda grins.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Y/N waves at the trio and makes her way to her room.

In her room, she takes out the physics exam and looks it through over and over again, until she has fully memorized which parts she did wrong. It takes two hours. Two hours, which Y/N didn’t notice going by.

A knock on her door makes her jump. Her wide eyes glance at the clock, grumbling when she notices it’s over dinner time.

“It’s open!”

Tony walks inside the room, a small grin on his face and a plate of food on his hand. “I know everyone says we’re too alike, but please don’t take up on my habit of missing meals.” He sets the plate down on her desk. “It’s a bad habit, kiddo.”

“I won’t.” Y/N lets out an airy laugh, setting the test paper on the desk and pulling the plate in front of her.

“That your physics test?” Tony grabs the sheet of paper before Y/N is able to hide it.

“No!”

“What?” Tony glances at her with a frown. His eyes skim over both sides of the paper.

Y/N bites the inside of her cheek, her gaze going straight to the floor as she feels disappointment seeping into her body. “I did badly.” She mumbles, waiting for Tony’s criticism.

“So?” Tony sets the test back down. “Do you know how bad I did in school? I’m still absolutely brilliant.” He sits on her bed.

“Yeah.. but you’re great at physics, and math, and all that important stuff.”

“Sure.” Tony nods. “But this is only one test,” he taps the paper, “and you’re so great at so many things. You get As on history and English, you have a great eye for design, you have impeccable people skills, even though you hate most of them.” He laughs. “One physics exam doesn’t mean shit.”

Y/N looks at Tony, a small frown on her face. “But I want to be like you.”

“Kiddo, no one is going to be like me, not should they try to be like me.” Tony pats Y/N’s knee. “Is physics your passion?”

“I don’t know what my passion is.”

“Well, when you find your passion, I will be the one to hire you to work in a job that you love. Because no child living under my roof will work a day in their life in a job they despise. Yes, I will always encourage you to do your best at tests, but I’ll be proud of you no matter how well or bad you do in them.”

Sniffling, Y/N lunges to hug Tony. He embraces her right back, holding onto her tightly as long as she needs to be held, because even though he doesn’t love physical touch, he refuses to be the first one to pull away when a kid he considers his needs comfort.

[daddysfangirls-marvel]

Goth Boss Series

Pairing: Tony Stark x daughter! reader

The Avengers find out that Tony has a secret teenage daughter and make Tony ask her to visit. But the avengers discover why she was kept secret when they meet her. ( could bucky and Steve be terrified of how y/n looks, since they are from a different time and seeing a goth girl for the first time, scares them) (tony has a strained relationship with y/n as she grew up without him, and he kept her secret)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

Ongoing

[laurie-stark]

Chapter I: Secret's Keeper

A/N: RAHHHHHHHHHHH Cherry Bomb is finally yours. Thank you to everyone for the tremendous support and excitement leading up to the publication. You guys loving Laurie means more than I can express.

A special thank you to w1steriaa_for being Laurie's biggest cheerleader and also the best proofreader ever. Guys, please go give Amber's works a read bc she is so immensely talented and I could not have done this without her.

see you guys in two weeks for the next update! lots of love, m<3

Word count: 2.8k

Cherry Bomb Masterlist

Seven in the morning was an ungodly hour to expect a fourteen-year-old to pay attention to ninth-grade algebra. The bell had just rung and I was already sitting in the same spot I had been since January. I may be my father’s daughter, but Pepper Potts drilled punctuality into me like it was my life’s blood. And I’d grown up watching how stressed she would get every time Dad ran late for an event or press conference. Being Tony Stark’s personal assistant was hard enough, so I decided when I was still pretty young that being early was another way of being kind. It was the least I could do.

My classmates started to file into the room and take their seats. Despite it still being early in the morning, the New York City summer heat was well on its way. And it was only May. Being on the fourteenth floor of a really old building didn’t help either. But hey, I was not one to complain. I was just happy to be at school at all.

Kidding, of course. That was horseshit. It was mornings like these, when the humidity made it feel like I was underwater and I’d only gotten four hours of sleep because I had been studying for the history test I had next period, that I truly cursed my younger self for wanting to go to real school so badly. Being homeschooled made the most sense when I was younger. Dad was hardly ever in one city for longer than a month and he had crippling undiagnosed separation anxiety to me. So, I spent my childhood following him around the world. It was nice though. I had complete control over my education and my dad did a pretty good job of being involved, as much as a billionaire harlot with a small gambling addiction could. Naturally, Dad spent the most time on science stuff with me. He’d work in his lab on weapons, and then eventually the Iron Man suits, while I did spelling and math and science. It was nice, nearly perfect. As I got older, I think I began to realize my dad was definitely working overtime to be a better father than his was. And he was a really, really good dad. 

Homeschooling also meant that I had a lot more freedom and flexibility than the other kids my age. And where some kids do hard-core dance or varsity one sports, I would bother the Avengers over their intercom. So basically dance, if Tony Stark being a dance mom equated fighting by his daughter’s side to protect the people of New York…You get the gist. I was a registered agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. for a couple of years. It was never anything crazy, I just helped where I could. It started eight years ago, with Loki. Nick and his team knew virtually nothing about controlling the Tesseract and he thought me and my abilities would be helpful. They weren’t. So, Nick found other uses for me. 

The Battle of New York left me fairly shaken up and my parents were super against any active participation during missions. In between my schooling and singing lessons, I would help with the preparation: scouting locations, hacking enemy mainframes, anything that let me feel like I was truly a part of a team. I was always desperate to impress the adults in my life, to show them that I could be useful and worth something. That feeling sparked when I first met Nick Fury and it never truly went away. 

I liked being an agent. I liked being in on all the secrets, I liked helping people, and I loved working with the Avengers. Nat, Steve, Clint, Bruce, and Thor became family. Suddenly I wasn’t a lonesome only child whose only friend was her dad and his assistant. I was the guy in the chair, the one handing out coordinates and fallback plans. I had a purpose. 

Sokovia changed everything. I still had nightmares about what happened a year ago. I’d wake up in a sweat, feeling the phantom grip of metal fingers around my arm. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sounds of screaming people I couldn’t save because I froze up. They died because I wasn’t strong enough. Dad put his foot down after that. He told me that what I was doing wasn’t good for me and he’d be a terrible father if he let me continue. He was right, but I was still angry about it. 

Real school was our compromise. If I wasn’t allowed to go on missions anymore then I needed someplace else to have a social life. It was pretty good timing too because I had just wrapped up the eighth grade curriculum. It took a lot of convincing and three PowerPoint presentations to finally convince my dad that being a normal kid in a normal school would be beneficial for me. He got me into Dalton and the rest was history.

However, what wasn’t history was the test on that very subject that was surely going to kill me next period. I spent the remainder of my math period going through my flashcards and study notes. I wasn’t alone, nearly half of the class was in the same boat as me. And if they studied as much as I had, then we were all fried. 

…

Halfway through my history test, I knew I was screwed because all I could think about was lunch. Every factoid about Greek history was clouded with fantasies about turkey avocado sandwiches. There was a little French sandwich place just down the road from my school and it was my favourite. The owner was a true French man from a town just outside Paris and he let me practice my French with him. I spent at least two lunch periods a week being ruthlessly criticized by a middle-aged man, but that made it more authentic. I wasn’t super fluent, but I knew enough to hold a conversation, or at least get through a conversation with Emery. But French was not going to help me pass this history test and I was beginning to recall all my knowledge of Percy Jackson as a last resort. 

Forty-five minutes later, I gathered all my dignity and shame and walked my test up to the front of the room. I handed it off to my history teacher, who gave me a grim smile. My classmates seemed to be just as stone-faced as I was and I think we were all hopeful that our teacher would curve the grade. 

I rocked on the balls of my heels outside the classroom door, waiting for my two best friends to finish their tests. When I first started at Dalton, making friends was a challenge. Quite a few of the student body had been attending the school since kindergarten, so their relationships had been forged nearly a decade ago. I didn’t have an abhorrent amount of friends; I knew enough people to say hi when we passed in the halls or have someone to sit with in the cafeteria. I would have been content with just that, but I was fortunate enough to have made two wonderful best friends. 

Like many of the numerous friendship pacts, Brianna Sinclair and Meredith Camden had been best friends since their preschool days. We met briefly during freshman orientation, but it was first-semester theatre class when we really got close. Brianna and I were both huge theatre nerds and she was quick to sit at the desk next to mine. She was a redhead with the spirit to match the fiery hair. She loved performing and astrology, and she was definitely the epitome of an Aries. It wasn’t long before she introduced me to Meredith and we all became happy chums. 

Meredith Camden was perfect. She was the only freshman I knew who was already planning her senior year class presidency. And, she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, and I don’t even like girls. Meredith was a true stunner, from her long, silky coils to her perfectly smooth dark complexion. She was kind as well. Even though I met Brianna first, Meredith was the one who really made me feel welcome at Dalton. At first, I was apprehensive about making a trio out of an already tight-knit pair, but Meredith always made sure I felt included. And soon enough we were as thick as thieves. 

Post-test stress had kicked in while I waited for the girls. I used my thumb to rub circles into the centre of my palm, switching back and forth between my hands. When I caught a glimpse of red, my back straightened. 

“How bad was that?” I asked.

Brianna swung her ponytail over her shoulders. “That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done,” she huffed.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Meredith chimed in softly. “Everything that was on there was in our notes.”

“I was up until like three in the morning studying and I still think I failed,” I said as we began to walk towards the stairs to our next period. 

“Well studies do show that quality of sleep greatly impacts test performance, maybe next time you should prioritize getting a good night’s rest and study more in the morning.” 

Brianna rolled her eyes playfully at Meredith’s info dump. 

I smiled at her. “I’ll give that a try.” 

We squeezed through the flood of students walking around us and I slunk back behind the girls to give us some more room.

“So what are we doing today? Shop along Park? I think Madison Beaucard is having people over. Oh, we could go to the flower market, I have been dying to get my hands on fresh tulips now that they’re in season.” Brianna’s hands were flying around as she talked. 

“Right now?” I asked.

“No, stupid,” Brianna teased.  “After school.”

“Be nice,” Meredith chimed in. Brianna shot a playful look at the other girl.

“We finally, finally finished the renovations on the indoor pool yesterday so you guys could come over to test it out!” Meredith offered. Her family had been chipping away at that project for as long as I’d known her for. 

Brianna tugged on Meredith’s arm excitedly. “Oh my gosh, yes! We are so doing that.” She turned around to face me, still hanging off of Meredith. “You in, Laur?” 

I smiled but heaved a high. “Sorry Bri, I wish I could, but my family is gonna want me home right after school.”

“Of course, how silly of me,” Brianna feigned an English accent. “It’s Wednesday.” 

“Are you sure your Dad wouldn’t miss you just for one week?” Meredith pouted. 

“I’m sorry dude, it’s out of my hands.”

“Ugh, your parents are no fun.” 

I smiled inwardly. “You know I’d be hanging out with you guys in a heartbeat if I could.” 

To Meredith and Brianna, Wednesdays meant I had “family time” immediately after school each week. If it were any other day I would have happily tagged along for shopping or swimming or whatever new activity Brianna found on Instagram was. But Wednesdays were always signed off. 

The truth was that I had training at the compound. Although my dad was firm about pulling my involvement with S.H.I.E.L.D., he allowed me to go Upstate once a week to do drills with Nat. Natasha Romanoff had been training me in hand-to-hand combat since I was seven or eight. She said it was important that I knew how to protect myself. At first, it was just for fun, but with how defenceless I’d felt in the last few years,  I started to get more serious about it. 

There was also the small matter of superhuman powers that I had very little control over. They showed up when I was seven, pretty soon after my father was kidnapped and held hostage overseas. They say it was the trauma and intense emotionality that triggered my powers being awoken. But my knowledge of the powers ended there. My father absolutely refused to let Nick Fury or his team study me or study the things I could do. Which, if I was honest, was a good call on his part, but it did leave me living with a lot of questions. From what we could tell, it was some sort of gravitational and elemental manipulation; the product of experiments my birth mother ran on me as an infant. I tried not to think about that too much, though. I just knew that when I feel things too hard, the powers can get out of control. It was pretty scary, and really confusing as a kid. But thankfully the Avengers found an expert.

Wanda Maximoff has been a great help in the last few months. Training with Nat became also training with Wanda after Ultron and the destruction of Sokovia. Her powers are very different from mine, but she approached me after she moved into the compound to see if I wanted her help. I remember I had woken up in the middle of the night to my bedroom at the compound looking like a storm had passed through. I must have been having another nightmare and set myself off in my sleep. After I did my best to put the room back in order through tears, I found myself on the roof of the compound, looking out at the stars. Wanda found me sitting out there. Turned out she was having similar dreams. She asked me about my powers, I asked her about hers and soon enough she was offering skills and advice and suggesting I start honing in on training. It had been about a year since then and my control had gotten a lot better. But of course, this was all a humongous secret I was keeping from my friends. One secret wasn’t too bad though. 

“I was thinking we haven’t done our monthly movie marathon sleepover this month,” Meredith pointed out as we took our seats. The three of us had history and English class together this semester. “Laurie, is your place free?”

And there was the other shoe. Secret superhero shenanigans weren’t the only thing I kept from Meredith and Brianna. I was also under strict orders to pretend that I didn’t exist. Or rather, pretend that Laurie Stark didn’t exist. 

Sometime after the battle of New York, probably during all the stuff with the Mandarin, my dad asked Nick Fury to erase me from existence. It was a safety thing. Somewhere between aliens and terrorists attacking our house over and over, my dad decided he needed to take a more proactive role in my general safety. Hazards of the job, he called it. I understood, I guess, but it just meant there were even more secrets to keep. I was enrolled in school as Laurel Potts. My private social media accounts were under that same name, and I even carried a fake learner’s permit with the alias. I always felt really guilty when I had to turn down bringing friends over or lying about why they had never met my parents, but the secrets kept me safe. And they offered me freedom. Win some, lose some. 

“Sorry guys, our kitchen is undergoing a huge reno,” I blurted out the lie. “My dad has been super into…dutch ovens?”

I could tell they didn't believe me but they shrugged it off. Guilt panged at my heart and I rubbed at the centre of my palm again. When it was just me and my dad and our small world, I could be anything. And as much as I loved being out in society like a normal teenage girl, I wished I could live it authentically. 

The girls snuck a look at each other they thought I wouldn’t see. I could almost hear the best friend telepathy going off. They were definitely thinking I must not want them around. With their backs to me, I felt my shoulders begin to tense. My girls had never once made me feel out of place since starting at the Dalton, but I had never been oblivious to the fact that three was a crowd. 

I turned away from my friends when our English teacher pulled the class’s attention to the front of the room. We started our lesson on writing comparative analysis essays, but the only thing I was analyzing was the body language of the girls beside me. The pinch of my thumbnail against my palm was enough to bring me back to the present, and I forced myself to focus on worrying about that rotten history test instead…

[ronearoundblindly]

The Stark Legacy (25)

Tony Stark's daughter (OC) x Bucky Barnes epic slowburn

Compound, part of Book III: Power (see previous or series)

Summary: Samantha wakes to find new friends at Avengers HQ, but her uncontrolled abilities make things...awkward.

Warnings for illusions to nudity/suggestive language and some cursing. A/N: Tandy and Tyrone are around Samantha's age in this, so that's way younger than canon-MCU, but their backstory is closer to the original comics. Rated Teen/15+ ONLY, please. WC 3.7k

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE—April 2039

 “They called it Regulating,” Bruce announced, rewinding the faint footage from the second floor of the Wakandan Annex Lab, “according to the recovered video research from Aldrich Killian—well, the military, really.” He smirked, looking quickly back at Bucky, adding, “Tony thinks I wasn’t listening, which I wasn’t for part—you get it, he’s very long-winded.”

“He’s not the only one,” Bucky grumbled, eyes fixed on the screen. Bruce played it again.

Two grainy figures in the corner of the frame, Bucky and Samantha, scuffled as she tried to avoid riding the motorcycle. The light Sam emitted grew brighter until his own figure was blotted out and smack—the video fell gray. The moment passed, and the absolute white that replaced it lasted much longer. Eventually, the white faded to reveal Sam standing with her arm out, legs apart and planted. She remained standing only a few seconds longer before collapsing. Her body tumbled in the receding water, covering her in mud, Bucky’s legs slid into the top of frame before catching against the earth. The picture went blurry as the fog of the freshly evaporated sea descended. There was, however, a clearly visible, irregular line where the thick glass of the building’s window had melted in the bottom corner near Sam.

Bruce stopped the footage. “Except when Extremis soldiers couldn’t Regulate, their bodies incinerated themselves and anything around them. This—” he waved his arm through the projection, “—she’s controlling—well, aiming it, I think. And she survived obviously, which means this is something new.” The doctor, jumpy with unanswered questions, uneasy since Bucky first told him they were coming back with ‘complications,’ shuffled over to another desk to pull up a different file. “I keep trying to get a signal to Tony’s suit, but it’s always garbled so far. Shuri didn’t seem to know much about Sam’s physiological alterations.” Banner rubbed his temple. “We are gonna need more than a little—I mean, the bullshit this girl did to herself…”

Bucky turned towards Banner’s ominously lowering voice. He had not heard Hulk’s deeper octave come out of Bruce in years. Bucky watched his friend hold his breath as he willed the sickly green hue to bury itself deep inside again. Bucky could relate to the bloom of anger and the sting of helplessness when faced with the problem of Samantha Stark.

Banner slammed a flesh-colored fist down, rattling some equipment. “I shouldn’t have sent her to Wakanda.”

“Doc, I think she did part of this before we left.” And the rest is probably my fault, he added internally. “It’s not something you could control.”

Bruce peered up at Bucky over the thin rims of his glasses. “In which case, biologically speaking, Sam Stark has been gone for a while.”

Bucky swallowed hard.

He knew that to be true, deep down, but he couldn’t shake Tony’s face, resigned to walk into an ocean with a king out for blood, all for hope that his daughter would remain safe. Bucky had already failed him because there was no Sam to protect, not the Sam Tony knew. Someone, something else lay in the infirmary, and it was his fault. It was Bucky’s choice to take her out before Shuri could come up with a plan. He took advantage of Sam’s interest in replacing his arm instead of her own health. He paid so little attention to her when she needed to be pulled back from the edge; Sam thought it more important to fix her scars then to live, thought fixing Bucky’s scars and self-confidence was worth what was left of her life. How could he have missed it? Bucky Barnes, the King of Self-Sacrifice, the epitome of a life forfeit, overlooked the signs of giving up. 

His gut coiled uncomfortably remembering his life after Hydra before Steve found him in Romania. Bucky spoke to no one unless absolutely necessary. He bartered to live in a shitty apartment by doing maintenance for the landlord. He helped tenants move their furniture and heavy boxes in and out for a little cash in order to buy food. He rotated between food stalls at different markets so that no one saw him enough to recognize him. Most of his downtime was consumed by writing in notebooks, writing everything he could remember about who he was and what he had done since. At night, he planned his escape if Hydra should find him. He even had three plans for his own termination, if the choice was be captured again or die. That life was what he had ‘woken’ up to, and it was barely a life at all.

Bucky tasted acid at the memory. Bruce remained hunched over the metallic table, steadying his breath.

“So,” Bucky tossed into the silence, “we wait until she wakes up?”

“Yeah,” Bruce threw up his hands, “then what?”

Bucky had no answer for the doctor this time.

Sam heard music in the darkness. Her mouth was unbearably dry, the fibers of her skin and muscle braided tight down the length of her throat. It wasn’t just her head that throbbed, but her whole body felt shrunken, clenched against her skeleton. Her brain was filled with fog and fire. 

Sam opened her eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. This was not the Palace.

“Hey,” Sam heard off to her right, turning to see a young blond woman rise from a chair against the other wall. “You’re ok.” The infirmary of New York Headquarters was quiet, as it was when she came to wake Sam Wilson, as it was when she recovered from glass cuts and electric burns when she was four. The music was much faster than those times, heavier, full of angst and screaming but at a low volume.

The air in the room: she could feel it flow across her forearms. The sheets beneath her calves: she could feel each fiber of thread. The input of feeling overwhelmed her, and Sam didn’t realize she was squirming until the voice put a firm hand against her stomach.

“Calm down,” the blond girl leaned over her to say, trying to catch her gaze as Sam’s focus shot to place after place in the room. “Samantha, I’m Tandy, and you’re safe here.” Her other hand touched Sam’s forehead.  

“Why—” was all Sam could push through her desert mouth. She gently tensed her abs to hint that she wanted to sit up. She kept looking around until staring only at each tiny feature of the new face. He used it, didn’t he? The words wouldn’t come out. Missy knew I would need it. Sam mimicked sticking a needle in her arm and pressing the plunger, hoping the question in her eyes made it clearer.

“Sam, slow,” Tandy tried, corralling her with skinny little arms. “Do you want me to get the nurse?” The girl stopped Sam before she could hop off the bed, trying to swat the restraining arms away before two lights stopped her.

Her own arm was red-orange and glowing. So he did use it, and I don’t feel sick anymore. Why do I feel so heavy? Why are her hands shining white? A gentle peace flowed from Tandy’s arms into Sam. The razor cuts of air and the scratch of her throat dulled.

“Are you Extremis, too?”

“No,” Tandy smiled, “something else did this to us.”

Sam’s mind went blank of her questions, filled with the warmth. How long has it been? A few days? How long did the proliferation take? Where’s my tablet? Phone? Where’s Missy?

“What do you remember?” Tandy asked calmly, her white hands growing brighter while Sam’s returned to beige.

“I—I fell in the forest.” The soothing touch smothered the fire in Sam’s mind and body, but the fog persisted. “I think…”

“You fought a ts-tsunami and won. That’s the coolest shit I’ve ever seen.” This was a different voice, deep and forceful, from a young man Sam hadn’t realized was in the corner by the door. He had dark skin that appeared to suck light from the air, out of focus; he smiled, eyeing Tandy and Sam in amusement. He reminded Sam of Lucas for a moment, but then, when the light faded from Tandy, he approached, and Sam saw genuine kindness.

“That’s Cloak,” Tandy said smiling.

“Tyrone,” the boy corrected, and his face came into focus without the odd bending of light. “She’s-s Dagger.”

Tandy stepped back towards the door, pausing her music. “Would you like to move to your room now? Or you wanna get some food with us?” 

Without Tandy’s soothing touch, Samantha felt her throat squeezing, parched. “Water,” she croaked out, “would be good.”

At a table in the large atrium outside the small, residence kitchen, Tandy regaled Sam with a slew of stories the rigorous training from Parker, Rogers, and Maximoff. They were nervous about training with Romanoff now that Nat had returned from China. Sam, for her part, noticed that the tables were no longer as shiny white as when she was very young, when the plastic was new, and there were some chips in the paint around the tall windows. The light seemed harsher, piercing. She sipped, gulped, then chugged four glasses of water before uttering a word. 

Tandy could control emotions with direct physical contact, which is what she did to Sam in the infirmary, and was working on throwing, aiming, what she described as Light Daggers. Sam could practically hear Uncle Peter’s exclamations of awe; he still called things ‘lit’ from time to time, so he was likely having a field day commenting on his young protege’s power. ‘Cloak’ referenced Tyrone’s ability to teleport inside a cloud of darkness, absorbing light and energy from around him. This was why he appeared darker and out of focus in a well-lit room; he could legitimately hide in the smallest shadow. Tandy described him as ‘the ultimate stealth operative.’ Tyrone said nothing of this himself and watched Sam for a long while before turning to listen to Tandy, a girl alive with excitement.

When they started discussing ‘the wave’ and what that meant Sam could do, however, his interest became apparent with his sudden focus on Sam’s response.

“I don’t remember,” Sam shrugged, aware of Tyrone deflating in disappointment. “I’m not kidding. The last thing I remember is falling over in the woods. Pretty sure that was…March first?” She didn’t say why she was in the woods, or what she did to Bucky’s arm on February 28th to sear the date in her mind. She thought she could see a sunset, or a sunrise, when she closed her eyes to think about it, but beyond a flash of sky behind leaves was a horrible ringing in her ears. Sam wanted Missy, who would have wiped her drives by now and scattered. She had to find her.

“Well, today is the sixteenth,” Tandy bubbled.

“Jeez, was I in a coma? Did my body try to reject Extremis?” There was a general clearing of throats in response, as if Sam’s dry mouth had spread.

“Of April.”

Tyrone assessed Sam again. It made her feel as if she were expected to break apart in front of him. Sam defied Tyrone’s expectations by remaining calm on the outside. She blinked but didn’t speak right away.

After her pause, Sam took a deep breath and sighed. “Well, I’m in wild need of a coffee then.” And a couple of shots of whisky couldn’t hurt…

Tandy laughed, jumping up to get Sam whatever she wanted.

These new friends were like nothing Samantha had ever known. They were close to her age, closer than any of the Bartons; they were being trained as Avengers, so they didn’t need Sam’s name to gain anything; and they never judged her for what she didn’t know. Because this whole ‘world of the professional Avengers’ was new to all three, everything was a bonding experience. Sam didn’t recognize most of the music they played or movies and shows they loved, but she was open to whatever they wanted to do. She knew zero celebrities, except for her obvious uncles and aunts.

After that first day, they never mentioned Tony Stark unless Sam did first, which was rare. Sam usually went very quiet when she was about to recount a story involving her dad, a mixed look rolling over her features then vanishing. She wanted to talk about him, but when she tried, Sam suddenly became a twelve-year-old girl again, the great Iron Man awkwardly standing over her, uninterested in anything she said. Sam wanted to feel good when she spoke of her father which meant she didn’t speak of him.

Luckily, Tandy and Tyrone favored making new memories, too, so her jealous, aging beauty queen mother, and his best friend shot by a Boston cop were also not discussed, nor how they became…special. Sam only found out those tidbits of their pasts while she searched for traces of Missy online. She searched as secretly and thoroughly as she could but had found nothing after weeks. It was a long process to hide what she was doing amongst genuine searches related to her training. 

Sam was tentatively mapping server locations where Missy may have pinged when her friend blurted, “can I cut your hair?” Tandy idly messed with Sam’s unkept regrowth. She hadn’t touched it since waking on the floor in Massachussetts after first injecting herself. “You’ve got a ducktail going back here, and it’s not exactly flattering,” the blond coaxed.

“Whatever you want, Dee,” Sam mumbled, lulled by the gentle touch in her hair. She hadn’t had a haircut in over a year, back when Annie insisted on a salon day for her bridesmaids. The incessant, high-pitched laughter, the gossip, and the roar of a dozen dryers had taken all of the pleasure out of someone massaging her scalp.

“Hear that, Ty? Sam trusts me with her hair.”

“You’re s-s-still not touching mu-mine.” Tyrone flipped through some news articles while eating cereal, his favorite afternoon snack. They also didn’t discuss his stutter.

Tandy’s frown was audible, even from behind Sam’s head, and Sam smirked. She enjoyed their banter, all day, everyday.

“Sam, you wanna wet your hair for me? I’ll get scissors,” Tandy said to perk herself back up. “Come on.” Her gaze shot back playfully to Tyrone. “Don’t choke on your Fruit Loops while we’re gone. No one will save you.”

Tyrone brandished his middle finger on his spoon hand. He didn’t look up.

The girls headed off to Sam’s room, since Tandy’s was farther down the hall.

“Not that you have to,” Tandy started as they bounced along, “but you might want to take a full shower. You’re a bit ripe after today’s training.”

Sam laughed anyway. Only Tandy could critique her while making Sam happier. “Yeah, you don’t have to be a jerk about it.”

“But you’re a punk who needs my help,” Tandy saluted Sam and excitedly trotted down the hall.

The door took her handprint, a newer feature. The tiny twin bed inside cradled the same watercolor blotched comforter Sam slept under since she was four. She took it to the Barton’s originally, but by eight years old, she abandoned it here at Christmas. Thirteen, the year after Sam chose Mistress as a present, that was the year Nat stopped decorating her room with lights. True to form, no one had touched it but her since. The comforter was worn thin, the corners threadbare, but it felt familiar when nothing else, not even her own body, did. 

Sam kept the habit of owning little clothing from her time in Wakanda, though the clothes were not as baggy on her now that she ate whole foods.

She’d never exercised so much in her life.

Since no fighter in the building trusted her to attempt using her new abilities, Bruce proposed Samantha’s more ‘human’ strengths be developed and tested. She spent her mornings running while Big Sam watched and timed her increasing speed and endurance. It didn’t matter that she could do it; she hated running all the same.

Afternoons were hand-to-hand combat with Natasha, a particularly humbling experience since Sam could not think of anyone she was more afraid to hit. Nat may have stopped visiting her in the hospital three years ago, but that anger did not translate to stupidity. They don’t name you Black Widow for nothing. 

Sam flopped a change of clothes onto the bed and popped into the shower, leaving the bedroom door open for Tandy to come back in. She hap hazardously scrubbed and rinsed, never much caring about the relaxing effects of washing. Sam had spent so many hours ‘relaxing’ in a regeneration cradle full of nutrient gel, she could do with never relaxing again. She was quick to throw on a towel and swing open the bathroom door simply to move on to fun with Tandy, but she was no longer alone.

It wasn’t Tandy who’d come in though.

“I knocked, but the door…” Bucky Barnes stood looking around her room, and while she’d seen him since waking up, he had never been inside her personal living space. 

Sam stumbled over the small lip at the bathroom threshold, knocking her shoulder on the doorframe. A corner of her towel fell, and in her attempt to grab the falling fabric, she clenched the wrong end, lifting the bottom of her towel up high enough for half of her backside and chest to hang out.

“Holy shit,” she exclaimed, shutting her eyes as hard as she could pinch them, awkwardly hunching to push as much fabric over her as possible.

She thought she heard him say “you’re okay,” but the damage was already done.

Sam’s glow of shame spread to her left arm—the only appendage not reinforced with vibranium—igniting the terry cloth towel she held tight. She tried not to pay attention, to hum something soothing and back into the bathroom with some semblance of dignity, but to no avail.

Her unexpected guest ripped the smoking fabric from her body and started stamping it out on her bedroom floor.

Bucky pressed something silky against her shoulder. Sam clamped her arms across herself and cracked a single eye open, hoping she wouldn’t light the whole room on fire. 

“Brought you something. Figured you’d need it.” Bucky’s eyes were glued to the floor. He held out a slinky looking jumper of navy blue material. It touched her skin but still felt cool. 

Sam snatched it, slamming the door between them. 

“Banner found this fabric in the Baxter building after the Four…” he yelled through the wall before clearing his throat. “Human Torch needed clothing that wouldn’t burn up, and Bruce figured so do you.”

She took the time she spent squeezing into the legs of the leotard to calm down. “Does this mean I get to train for real? Seriously?” Excitement replaced embarrassment until she had a thought.  “Wait—you knew I’d burn my…”

“Yes, but I didn’t see anything.” When Sam threw open the door again, he rushed to the hallway door, eyes still turned down.

“What?” The elephant sitting on Sam’s chest shifted pressure to her stomach. She felt a little sick.

Bucky didn’t turn around but must have felt guilty enough to offer his best attempt at an explanation. “Bruce knows the temperature you can reach when you—he calls it Deregulate, but I—you were covered in mud. I saw nothing in Wakanda. Promise.”

In her terror, Sam sensed more was required to embarrass the Winter Soldier. “But…”

“But…I had to carry you back,” he softly admitted. Then Bucky changed the subject abruptly, adding, “your training starts with me tomorrow, and we’re going out. We’re starting slow.”

Sam’s cheeks caught fire, or might as well have. She was grateful Bucky still faced away. The tall, dark haired behemoth at her bedroom door just admitted to carrying her around naked while she was unconscious, then he chose the worst possible wording for his follow-up statement. She couldn’t process all the implications at that moment.

“Meet at the garage at six,” Bucky said, opening the door. “I know you’re not a morning person, but we have a ways to drive.” With one last look directly at Sam, he added with a smirk, “no bikes. Promise.” 

Sam vaguely recognized the Boy Scout’s honor sign in the hand he raised but was too shocked to care. Tandy stood outside, eyes indiscreetly wide.

The blond giggled before she shut the door. “Oh, there’s a story there,” she squeaked, eyes landed on Sam’s new outfit, adding, “and this is…hideous.” Tandy’s immense disappointment released in a dramatic sigh. “At least Ty has some fashion sense. He would never give you this to wear. Why the hell would you need something so unflattering?” Tandy tossed her own hair back in distain before brandished her comb and scissors, smiling.

Sam stood slack-jawed, unable to answer. Her mind raced to recall any poorly worded comments she might have let slip in subsequent conversations she and Captain Barnes had since their return stateside, but nothing stood out. He was perfectly friendly, he never looked at her strangely, and so it seemed to matter very little to Bucky personally that he had…done that. Sam concluded he was mostly sparing her the embarrassment of flaring off her clothing again, this time in front of people who might not be as indifferent. That’s…nice, I suppose. He’s a nice guy…to everyone.

“Sam, you ok? You look pretty pale.” Tandy handed her the fresh clothes she’d set on her bed, subtly nudging her to get out of the fashion faux-pas of the tight onesie.

Certainly not alright. “Yup, just tired from the run.” She strategically layered the regular clothes over the flame-retardant fabric. She no longer questioned why they had babied her interactions so far; Sam was a hazard until she could properly control herself.

“Sit down,” Tandy demanded happily, “we’ll get coffee and show you off after.”

Not nearly as much as I just showed off. Sam lamented no longer having Missy as her personal security system. Missy would never have let this happen.

[Chapter 26: Capacity]

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[srslyblvck]

daddy issues, tony stark [ part II ] [requested]

pairing: tony stark x daughter!reader

synopsis: tony might've been a great superhero but he wasn't a great father.

genre: angst

word count: 2.9k

Part I

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ YOU HELD THE INVITATION out to him, hands trembling slightly with excitement. “It’s this Saturday,” you said, voice soft but eager. “It’s a science fair, and I’ve been working really hard on this project. I thought… maybe you’d like to come?”

Tony barely looked up, the usual hum of his holographic screens reflecting in his tired eyes. But then he caught sight of the hope in your gaze, and he finally nodded, taking the invitation with a small smile. “Yeah, sure, kiddo,” he said. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

That simple promise was enough for you. Every evening that week, you stayed up late perfecting each part of the project, tweaking every detail. You didn’t want to win the science fair; you just wanted Tony to see it, to see you, and to feel proud.

When Saturday arrived, you were nervous but excited. You set up your stall carefully, double-checking each piece of the project display, hoping it would be something that would catch his eye. As people wandered through the fair, they stopped by your booth, impressed by the level of detail and precision in your work.

But every time you scanned the crowd, you didn’t see him. Your heart sank as parents, teachers, and students came and went, praising your project. The minutes slipped by, and the fair began to wind down. The chair beside you remained empty.

Finally, the awards were announced. They called your name, and a polite round of applause filled the room as you accepted the medal and certificate, trying to smile as people congratulated you. You told yourself it didn’t matter. It was just another award, another paper. But deep down, you felt the disappointment settle like a weight in your chest. You didn’t want the medal—you wanted him to be there, even just to see you in the crowd.

Later that night, Tony stepped out of his workshop, exhausted but satisfied with his work. He made his way to the kitchen, grabbing a drink and mindlessly sipping when his gaze fell on something bright and familiar—the invitation you’d given him, stuck to the fridge door.

The words “Science Fair” stood out in big, hopeful letters.

He froze, feeling his stomach twist with guilt as he read the details: Saturday, 2 PM. It was hours past now. He’d missed it. And you’d been waiting, hoping he’d show.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, setting his glass down hard enough to make the ice clink. Panic flickered in his chest as he wondered if he could still make it. He’d go, tell you he was sorry, anything to make up for it. He was about to leave when he heard footsteps behind him.

“Tony,” Natasha’s voice was low but carried a weight of disappointment. She stood at the kitchen entrance, her arms crossed as she looked at him with a quiet, disappointed frown. “I picked her up an hour ago.”

Her words hit him harder than he’d expected, and his shoulders sagged. He had missed it, and not just by a few minutes. He’d missed you showing your project, your moment, everything.

Without another word, he made his way to your room, heart heavy with regret. He stopped in front of your door, hesitating. A soft knock, and he waited. When no response came, he opened the door quietly, stepping inside.

The sight made his chest tighten. You were asleep on the floor, curled up against the bed, your cheeks stained with dried tears. Next to you, the medal and certificate were tossed aside, the project itself lying on its side, carelessly left where you must’ve dropped it. His heart clenched seeing the once carefully crafted project in pieces, as if it were something you no longer cared about, just like you must have felt he didn’t care.

Tony crouched down, lifting the project gently and turning it over in his hands. His eyes widened as he realized what you’d been working on—an arc reactor prototype, similar to his own designs, with an ingenious twist on the core structure. It was something he’d been experimenting with in his own work, but you’d done it independently. Quietly. He could see the hours you’d poured into it, the dedication in every small piece.

His gaze shifted to the medal and certificate, his thumb brushing over the engraved words: First Place, Science Fair.

He picked up the project, medal, and certificate, gently placing them on your desk, handling them with the care you’d given them in the first place. After a moment’s thought, he walked down the hall to the room where his collection of awards and trophies sat, things he’d earned and displayed with pride. He added your certificate and medal to the shelf among them, a quiet acknowledgment of your accomplishment, and of the pride he should’ve shown you himself.

Returning to your room, he leaned down and carefully gathered you in his arms, lifting you from the floor. You shifted slightly in his hold, but you didn’t wake. He gently placed you on your bed, pulling a blanket over you and brushing a few strands of hair from your face. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m so, so sorry, kiddo.”

He pulled back, watching you with a mix of regret and sadness. You deserved a father who showed up, a father who was there to tell you how proud he was. He’d promised you once before, and he’d broken that promise again. But seeing the tear stains on your cheeks and the way you’d fallen asleep waiting, he vowed, right then and there, to make things right.

After the science fair, something inside you changed. You had spent years hoping, wishing for Tony’s attention, his presence. But that day, sitting alone as he’d failed to show up yet again, you felt something break. Maybe it was the last piece of hope you’d held onto, or maybe it was the realization that you couldn’t keep waiting for him.

The disappointment was too much, and you decided you were done.

From that day on, you stopped seeking him out, stopped waiting for the promises he never kept. You didn’t make him coffee in the mornings, didn’t check if he’d eaten. You stopped wandering into his lab, hoping he might turn around and finally see you. Instead, you kept to yourself, focusing on school, friends, and the occasional training session with the Avengers. When you did cross paths with Tony, you barely said a word, nodding politely before walking away.

At first, Tony didn’t notice, assuming you were just busy. But after a few days, he realized that he hadn’t seen you come by the workshop. You hadn’t shown up with coffee, hadn’t peeked into his lab to see what he was working on. He started to notice the quiet absence of your presence, the hollow ache that settled in his chest when he realized that you were no longer there, waiting for him.

He began trying to find ways to pull you back. He left notes on your door, asking if you wanted to join him for a quick meal, but you didn’t respond. He tried to catch you before school, only to find you’d already left early. Once or twice, he even came into the kitchen to find you already grabbing your things to head out, barely looking his way as you passed him.

The tables had turned, and now he was the one chasing your attention. And each time you walked past him, it was a reminder of the countless times he’d done the same to you.

Tony tried harder, desperate to reach you. He’d show up at your school events unannounced, hovering at the back of the room, hoping to catch you. When he did manage to see you, he’d smile, wave, but you’d turn away before he could approach.

One day, he waited for you in the kitchen after school, hoping you’d talk to him. “Hey, kid,” he greeted, trying to keep his tone casual.

You barely nodded, giving him a half-hearted wave before turning away, as if he were just another face in the tower.

The realization stung—he was a stranger to you now, a shadow in the very place he’d thought he’d always be the brightest.

You’d always had a habit of fussing over Tony before missions, even though he brushed it off with a laugh or a smirk every time. You’d run over to him, throwing your arms around him in a quick hug, muttering a soft “Be safe. Don’t do anything stupid, okay?” It was something he’d come to expect—a ritual, in a way. But this time, as he and the Avengers prepared to head out, you were nowhere near him.

He waited, lingering by the Quinjet, scanning the hallways for you. The other Avengers gave him a curious glance, noticing his rare display of hesitation.

But you didn’t come to him. You were busy talking to Steve, listening to Natasha’s quick pointers on handling herself if anything went wrong in the tower, and as you stood there, you didn’t even glance his way.

Tony tried to brush off the pang of disappointment that settled in his chest. It was strange, seeing you so distant, so unaffected as if he was just another face in the tower. He had known you’d started pulling away, but this—this was different. He’d started to miss you in a way he hadn’t anticipated, and the absence of your hug and your quiet words lingered with him as the Quinjet door closed, and they headed off to the mission.

Hours passed, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Normally, you’d distract yourself while they were away, maybe even work on a project in the workshop or catch up on schoolwork. But today, that feeling of unease was stronger than ever, gnawing at you with a persistence you couldn’t ignore.

You paced the hallways, glancing at the clock every few minutes. The quiet tower felt unbearably heavy, each minute stretching on endlessly. And then, finally, the faint roar of the Quinjet’s engines filled the air, signaling their return.

You hurried down to the landing bay, expecting to see Tony strutting out, cracking some half-baked joke about the mission, brushing off any bruises like they were nothing.

But as the jet doors opened, your heart plummeted.

The first figure to emerge was Steve, his face drawn with worry. And behind him, there was Tony—lying still on a stretcher, his armor dented, his face pale, and his shirt soaked through with blood.

“Dad!” you screamed, running over as the medics began wheeling him out. You reached for his hand, gripping it tightly as you matched the pace of the stretcher. “Dad, can you hear me?”

Hearing your voice, Tony’s eyes flickered open, and he gave you a faint, almost dazed smile, his lips twitching up as if this were all just another routine day. “Hey, kiddo,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, his usual grin so painfully out of place as blood seeped through his clothes. He looked like he was moments from passing out, yet here he was, trying to smile at you as if he weren’t literally dying.

Dr. Cho appeared at that moment, taking control as she and the med team rushed him toward the med bay. You clung to his hand, following until Dr. Cho gently but firmly urged you to let go so they could begin.

Your grip slipped reluctantly, your hand falling back to your side as they wheeled him away. You felt helpless, watching as they disappeared through the doors, the weight of everything settling heavily on your chest. Had he been injured because he’d been waiting for you to say goodbye? Was it your fault for not showing him you still cared?

You sank against the wall outside the med bay, waiting, your heart pounding as guilt and worry tangled together. You could barely breathe, the fear settling into your bones as the minutes stretched into hours.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Dr. Cho came out, a tired but gentle smile on her face.

“He’s stable,” she said, her voice reassuring. “The wound was deep, but we managed to stop the bleeding. He’ll need rest and shouldn’t move around much, but he’s going to be okay.”

Relief flooded through you, a weight lifting off your chest as you let out a shaky breath. You thanked her, your voice choked with emotion as you entered the med bay, your eyes immediately finding Tony’s sleeping form.

He looked peaceful, a rare stillness on his face as he rested. You pulled a chair close to the bed, sitting down and taking his hand in yours, your fingers brushing over the cuts and bruises along his knuckles. You stared at his hand, a lump forming in your throat as everything you’d been bottling up began to spill over.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, barely audible, as you traced the faint lines of scars on his hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye.”

Tears pricked at your eyes as the realization sank in, the guilt pressing down on you like a heavy weight. You hadn’t been there, hadn’t told him to be safe, and the thought that he’d gone into danger without knowing you cared made your heart ache.

From that moment, you didn’t leave his side, staying by his bed for days, watching over him, holding his hand, making sure he knew you were there. The other Avengers came by, offering words of comfort, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave unless it was absolutely necessary.

Days passed, and one morning, as you sat by his bed, your head resting on your arms, exhaustion finally caught up with you. You’d fallen asleep, Tony’s hand still cradled in yours as you dozed off at his bedside.

When Tony stirred awake, blinking blearily at the room around him, he felt a warmth against his hand. Glancing over, he saw you, your head resting on the edge of the bed, your eyes closed, your grip on his hand firm even in sleep. A small, tired smile spread across his face as he took in the sight of you, his chest tightening with a mix of relief and gratitude.

Dr. Cho entered quietly, offering him a knowing smile as she did her routine check. “She’s barely left your side,” she whispered, nodding toward you. “You’re lucky to have her.”

Tony’s gaze softened, his smile lingering as he looked at you, memories of the past few weeks flashing through his mind. When Dr. Cho finished and quietly left, he shifted slightly, trying to move without disturbing you. But the small movement was enough to make you stir, your eyes fluttering open as you lifted your head, immediately reaching out to steady him.

“Hey, careful,” you murmured, your voice thick with sleep. “Don’t move too much. Dr. Cho said you need rest.”

Tony chuckled softly, his voice weak but filled with warmth. “Guess I’m not used to lying around doing nothing,” he replied, squeezing your hand gently

You frowned at him, though your expression softened with relief. “Are you in pain? Do you need anything? Water? Or maybe some food? Can’t get you alcohol, obviously…”

You rambled on, the questions pouring out in rapid succession, not giving him a chance to respond. “How are you feeling now? Do you want me to—”

“Whoa, slow down,” Tony interrupted with a soft laugh, his eyes glimmering with amusement. “I’m fine, kid. Really. You don’t have to worry.”

You let out a shaky breath, the weight of everything you’d been holding in finally pressing down on you. Silence settled between you, thick with unspoken words and lingering emotions, until finally, both of you spoke at the same time.

“I’m sorry.”

Tony looked at you, his brow furrowing with confusion. “Why are you sorry?” he asked gently. “I’m the one who’s messed up, not you.”

You shook your head, your gaze falling as you fiddled with the edge of the bed sheet. “I should’ve said goodbye, like I always do. I was upset, and I thought… maybe if I didn’t care, it wouldn’t hurt so much. But I do care, and I’m sorry I let my pride get in the way.”

Tony’s hand tightened around yours, his expression softening as he watched you. “Hey, listen to me,” he said, his voice firm but tender. “This is on me. I know I’ve let you down, more times than I can count. And I know I haven’t been the dad you deserve. But I’m here now, and I’m… I’m done screwing this up.”

He looked at you, his gaze steady, a rare sincerity in his eyes. “I know it’s going to take time to fix things, but I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’m going to be there for you. I swear it.”

You blinked, tears welling up in your eyes as his words sank in, the honesty and determination in his voice breaking down the walls you’d built around yourself. You reached out, gripping his hand tightly, the weight of all the years of waiting and hoping finally easing.

“Just… show up, okay?” you whispered, a tear slipping down your cheek as you held his gaze. “That’s all I need.”

He nodded, a small, heartfelt smile on his face as he leaned back, squeezing your hand. “Then consider it done, kiddo.”

And in that moment, surrounded by the quiet hum of the medbay and the warmth of his hand in yours, you allowed yourself to believe him, feeling a glimmer of hope