#int: tony stark

[frankthesnek]

Why. Why is the suit to sexy???? 😳😩

I don’t think we appreciate how fucking Amazing Tony Stark is at multitasking and how Heightened his sense of awareness/ perception must be though I mean. I mean

Let’s just take a look at everything going on in these Two (2) screencaps alone. How much data do you think he’s processing at any one time whilst in that suit (+ JARVIS AND the rest of the avengers on audio). He reads, evaluates and acts on the info, all in the space of a second before moving on to the next task. JARVIS might give him the information, but it’s tony stark’s brain that processes all that data vomit. On the field, the amount of information he must process in a mere minute must be astounding.

And I mean, not only can tony pilot this shit all on his lonesome, but he can do it with nothing more than a pair of glasses.

Whilst taking a drink:

Whilst Driving a Whole Other Vehicle

Too basic for you? I mean, I guess all he was doing was some basic flight in those, right? Well what about saving thirteen people from a falling airplane and safely guiding them all down to earth again- whilst in a cabin on a boat

Could you imagine trying to do that? I can’t keep a conversation and do 1 task at once. I think we often forget quite how ….brilliant tony’s brain is. Like. The speed at which he would have to process information and act on it is fucking insane. No wonder no one else can effectively create an iron man suit, they just physically couldn’t keep up with it. Tony is one harcore genius motherfucker This Has Been A PSA

[yikesdrama]

for one perfect moment 🩵 (i) — Bucky Barnes

summary: bucky’s birthday is coming up soon and you just want to do something special for him, maybe even take a time travelling trip to see his maa….

word count: 6.6k

warnings: its just fluff, secret birthday planning & a lot of cuteness

a/n: please comment, like & reblog with your thoughts. i’m thinking of making it a three part series.

masterlist | next part

Steve Rogers looked across the table at you, arms crossed, brow furrowed in thought. The room felt warm and quiet despite the weight of the conversation, the faint hum of Stark Tech monitors filling the silence as your words lingered in the air.

Sam Wilson sat across from you, leaning back in his chair, one eyebrow raised in mild skepticism, but there was something softer in his expression—something almost amused.

“So, let me get this straight,” Sam began, tilting his head toward you. “Your brilliant idea for Bucky’s birthday is to—what—borrow Tony’s time machine, go back to the 1940s, and hang out with his family?”

“That��s exactly what I’m saying.” You leaned forward, your elbows resting on the edge of the table. Your voice had a determined edge, but your eyes betrayed a flicker of nervous energy. “I mean… think about it, Sam. When was the last time Bucky had a real family celebration? A moment where he wasn’t running from Hydra or fighting for his life or—” you paused, chewing your bottom lip—“feeling like he’s some kind of burden on the people around him?”

Steve straightened in his chair, his sharp blue eyes shifting from Sam to you. There was a stillness to him, like he was processing your words as if they were mission intel. “You’re not wrong,” he said finally, his voice calm but measured. “But it’s not exactly simple. Time travel isn’t… well, it’s not just a weekend getaway.”

“I know that,” you said quickly, cutting him off before he could build up steam. “I know it’s not simple, Steve, but it’s worth it. You know what this would mean to him. To see his mom & sisters, Steve. Don’t you think he deserves that?”

Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as well, as a slow grin spread across his face. “Y’know,” he said, pointing a finger at you, “I thought this idea was crazy at first, but now I’m starting to think you’re just crazy enough to pull it off. The question is, how do you convince Stark to hand over the keys to his fancy time machine?”

“Oh, I’ve got a plan for that,” you said, brushing off Sam’s teasing tone with a wave of your hand. “Tony owes me. Big time.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“Do you really want to know?” You smirked, leaning back in your chair with a satisfied expression. “Let’s just say it involves a highly classified Avengers mission, a stray cat, and one very expensive pair of Tony’s sunglasses.”

Sam barked out a laugh, the sound echoing off the walls. “Okay, now I definitely want to know.”

“It’s not important!” you said quickly, your cheeks flushing. “The point is, I can get Tony on board. But I need you two to back me up. He’s not going to go for this unless he knows it’s not just some ‘sentimental whim.’” You air-quoted the words dramatically, your voice dropping into a passable imitation of Stark’s dry tone.

Steve’s lips twitched into a faint smile, the kind that said he was almost convinced but still holding out for the catch. “Let’s say you get Tony to agree. How exactly are you planning to make this work? The timeline has rules. You can’t just drop in on the 1940s like it’s a costume party.”

You rolled your eyes. “I know that. Look, I’ve been thinking this through. We’d be careful. In and out, no interference with the timeline. Just… a quiet visit with his family. Maybe a week, max. Enough time for him to have a real birthday celebration. I mean, wouldn’t you want that if you were in his shoes?”

Steve’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, his gaze settling on a spot on the wall. For a moment, the room went quiet. Sam exchanged a glance with you, his humor softening into something more thoughtful. Steve’s voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet but firm. “Yeah. I would.”

Your expression softened, and you reached out across the table, your hand brushing against Steve’s. “Then you understand why this is so important. He’s been through so much, Steve. We all know that. He deserves to feel important.”

Sam let out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “You’re laying it on thick. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re whipped for the guy.”

Your face went red, but you didn’t back down. “Of course I’m whipped for him Sam, I’m in love with him. That’s why I’m doing this.”

Steve and Sam both froze, their expressions caught somewhere between surprise and something softer.

Steve blinked, his hand unconsciously rubbing the back of his neck. “Well,” he said, his voice low, “I can’t argue with that.”

Sam recovered first, his grin wide and teasing. “You’re really pulling the romance card, huh?”

“Shut up, Wilson,” you shot back, but there was no real heat in your voice. “Are you in or not?”

Sam laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’m in, I’m in. You had me at ‘time machine.’”

Steve sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I’ll help you,” he said, his tone firm but kind. “But we do this by the book. No cutting corners, no unnecessary risks. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” you said quickly, your eyes bright with excitement. “Thank you, Steve. I mean it.”

“Alright, so what’s the next step? Do we just march into Stark Tower and ask Tony for a favour.” Sam clapped his hands together, the sound breaking the tension in the room. “Because I’ve gotta say, I don’t think the guy’s gonna go for it without some serious persuasion.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you said, a mischievous glint in your eye. “I’ve got a plan.”

Later that evening, the three of you stood in Tony’s lab, the soft glow of holographic displays casting blue light across the room. Tony Stark was pacing, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, his expression equal parts amused and exasperated.

“Let me make sure I’m hearing this correctly,” he said, stopping mid-stride to look at you. “You want me to loan you my multi-billion-dollar time travel machine so you can throw a birthday party in the 1940s?”

“Not just a party,” you corrected, your tone matter-of-fact. “A family reunion. For Bucky.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “You know, when I built this thing, I had slightly higher ambitions in mind. Like, oh, I don’t know, saving the universe?”

“This is saving the universe,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “His universe.”

Steve cleared his throat, stepping forward. “It’s important, Tony. For Bucky. He hasn’t seen his family since the war. This would mean everything to him.”

Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You people really know how to tug at the ol’ heartstrings, don’t you?”

Sam smirked. “Comes with the territory.”

There was a long pause, and then Tony shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “Fine. But if you break it, you buy it. And by ‘it,’ I mean the space-time continuum.”

You beamed, and for a moment, it felt like the entire room had brightened. “Thank you, Tony. You have no idea how much this means.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony said, waving you off. “Just don’t make me regret it. And keep Rogers out of trouble while you’re at it. Don’t want him to end up fighting someone in the alley.”

Steve raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. He had a feeling this was going to be one birthday Bucky would never forget.

That evening, the living room of the Avengers Compound had never felt so cramped. Steve sat in his usual spot, his arms stretched over the back of the couch, trying to look casual while his stomach twisted with the weight of your not-so-secretive plan.

Next to him, you perched on the edge of the sofa cushion, your knee bouncing nervously as your eyes flicked between the TV and Sam. The movie playing on the screen was some action flick that none of you were actually watching—except maybe Bucky, who was obliviously sprawled out on the recliner, munching on popcorn.

Steve couldn’t help but glance at Bucky every few seconds, half expecting him to suddenly leap up and call their bluff. It was a ridiculous fear, considering how utterly relaxed Bucky seemed, but it didn’t stop Steve’s heart from racing every time Bucky so much as turned his head.

Sam, seated on the armrest of the couch, leaned over toward you and murmured under his breath, his tone just loud enough for Steve to catch. “So, what’s the next move, mastermind?”

Your lips twitched into a quick, nervous smile as you shot him a sideways glance. “We need to talk to Strange,” you whispered, your voice low but brimming with determination. “But we have to be careful. Bucky can’t know. Not even a hint.”

“Yeah, no pressure,” Sam muttered, rolling his eyes. He popped a handful of M&Ms into his mouth and slouched slightly, doing his best impression of someone who actually cared about the car chase on the screen.

“Can you two stop whispering?” Steve whispered yelled, though his voice lacked any real authority. He reached for the remote, fiddling with the volume button and turned it up. “If you’re going to conspire, at least don’t do it two feet away from him.”

You shot him a look, rolling your eyes. “What do you want us to do, Steve? Write notes and pass them like we’re in fifth grade?”

Sam smirked, leaning closer to you. “I mean, it might be safer. He’s got super-hearing. For all we know, he’s—”

“Sam,” Steve cut in, his tone warning, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Not helping.”

Bucky, blissfully unaware of the tension simmering behind him, let out a low chuckle at something on the screen. Steve froze, his eyes darting to you, and you looked like you were about to jump out of your skin. Your eyes flicked back to Sam, then to Steve, your expression screaming this is impossible.

“Alright, alright,” Sam said quietly, lifting his hands in surrender. “Let’s just get out of here before you two have a nervous breakdown. We can go talk to Strange.”

Steve nodded, grateful for the excuse to move things along. “Good idea,” he said, standing and stretching like he’d just remembered an urgent errand. “We’ll, uh, be back in a bit, Buck.”

“Where are you going?” Bucky asked casually, his eyes still glued to the screen.

You froze, your face an open book of panic, and Steve jumped in before you could flounder. “Oh, uh… just running an errand. These two are just tagging along for backup.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, finally turning his attention away from the movie to look at you. “Backup? For what?”

“Moral support?” you stated hesitantly.

Sam snorted, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement before he covered it up with a cough.

Bucky gave you all a skeptical once-over but eventually shrugged, settling back into his chair. “Whatever. Just don’t die out there.”

“Got it,” you blurted, grabbing Sam’s arm and practically dragging him toward the door. Steve followed, his stomach knotting tighter with every step.

The three of you didn’t speak until you were outside and halfway to Steve’s SUV.

Sam finally broke the silence with a low whistle. “That was smooth. Real smooth.”

You shot him a glare, your cheeks still flushed. “You’re not helping.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” Sam replied, grinning as he climbed into the back seat.

Steve rolled his eyes and opened the passenger door for you to get in & sit, his patience already wearing thin.

Once you were on the road, the tension in the car started to ease, though Steve couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking a very fine line. You sat beside him, fiddling with the hem of your sweater as you stared out the window. You looked nervous but determined, your lips pressed into a firm line.

Steve studied you for a moment, his mind drifting to all the times he’d seen that same look on your face. It was the look you got when you were planning something big—something you believed in with your whole heart. He couldn’t help but admire you for it, even if it made him nervous.

“So,” Sam said, breaking the silence as he leaned back in his seat, “what’s the game plan with Strange? You gonna sweet-talk him like you did with Stark?”

You snorted, finally tearing your gaze away from the window to look at Sam. “I don’t think Strange is the ‘sweet-talk’ type.”

“Good point,” Sam said with a grin. “So what’s the backup plan? Bribery? Begging? Threats?”

“None of the above,” you said firmly. “I’m just going to explain the plan and hope he understands.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? No clever strategy? No emotional appeals? You’re really putting all your eggs in the ‘logic and reason’ basket?”

Steve cut in before you could retort. “She’s right. Strange isn’t the kind of guy you can manipulate. He’ll respect honesty.”

You gave him a small, grateful smile. You were stubborn, sure, but you were also smart—smarter than you gave yourself credit for sometimes.

When you arrived outside the Sanctum Sanctorum, you were the first to get out of the car, despite the nervous energy radiating off you. Steve followed close behind, with Sam bringing up the rear, muttering something under his breath about “mystical nonsense.”

Stephan Strange greeted you at the door, his expression unreadable as always. He stood tall, his arms crossed over his chest, the red of his cloak catching the door light in a way that made him look almost regal.

“This better be important,” he said, his tone clipped but not unkind. “I don’t have time for casual visits.”

You stepped forward, your hands clasped tightly in front of you. “It is important. I promise.”

Strange raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and the two men behind you. “Alright. Come in.”

The inside of the Sanctum was just as strange and imposing as Steve remembered. You seemed unfazed, though he noticed you glancing around with a mix of curiosity and awe.

“So,” Strange said once you were seated in his study, “what’s this all about?”

You took a deep breath, your hands resting in your lap. “I want to use the time travel machine Tony built to take Bucky back to the 1940s for his birthday.”

Strange blinked, his expression carefully neutral. “That’s… specific.”

“It’s important,” you said quickly, leaning forward slightly. “I just want him to have a chance to see his family again. To know they’re okay. And I promise we won’t do anything to change the timeline. No interference, no big disruptions. Just… a visit.”

Strange studied you for a long moment, his fingers steepled under his chin. “You’re asking me to approve a plan that involves traveling to the past and interacting with people who are supposed to remain unaware of future events. Do you understand how delicate this is?”

“I do,” you said, your voice steady. “But I’ve thought it through. The only thing I plan to do is explain to his family what happened to him—why he disappeared. They deserve to know he’s okay, even if they never see him again. And when I bring him there, it’ll just be for a week. A chance for him to see his family once.”

Strange’s gaze flicked to Steve, then to Sam, as if gauging their reactions. “And you’re both on board with this?”

Sam shrugged. “Hey, it’s not my birthday, but if it makes Bucky happy, I’m all for it.”

Steve nodded, his expression serious. “It’s risky, but I trust her. She won’t let anything happen to the timeline.”

“You’re lucky I’ve seen weirder requests.” Strange said letting out a long sigh, leaning back in his chair. “Fine. As long as you stick to your word and don’t try to rewrite history, I won’t stop you.”

Your face lit up, and Steve felt a wave of relief wash over him. Strange wasn’t exactly the sentimental type, but he’d clearly seen something in your determination that convinced him.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You have no idea how much this means.”

Strange waved you off, his tone dry as usual. “Just don’t make me regret it. And for the love of all things sacred, don’t try to save Barnes from falling of the train in the past. You’ll just make things worse.”

“I won’t,” you promised quickly. “This is about giving him something good now, not changing what’s already happened.”

“Good,” Strange said, standing and gesturing toward the door. “Now get out of my Sanctum before I change my mind.”

As you walked back to the car, your steps were lighter, almost bouncing. You turned to Steve and Sam, a wide grin on your face. “That went better than I expected.”

Sam smirked. “Yeah, thanks to your sales pitch.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t lose your smile. For the first time all day, you felt a genuine sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this plan was going to work.

Okay, see the thing was Steve had witnessed his fair share of devotion in his lifetime. He had seen love in wartime letters clutched tightly in trembling hands, in quiet glances exchanged across rooms, and even in the sacrifices people made for each other on the battlefield.

But nothing—not in the 1940s, not in the decades since—compared to the sheer, shameless fervor of your love for Bucky Barnes.

He leaned back against the counter of the kitchen, arms crossed, as he watched you chatter animatedly with Sam and Natasha, your eyes alight with that unmistakable spark. You had this way of talking about Bucky that made it impossible not to notice the utter adoration woven into your every word.

It wasn’t just love; it was full-blown, unapologetic obsession.

“And then,” you said, your hands moving wildly as you recounted some small, undoubtedly inconsequential moment, “he just sat there, all broody, like he was single-handedly carrying the weight of the world. And I said, ‘Bucky, you don’t have to pretend to be a tortured poet every time it rains!’” You grinned, clearly delighted with your own story. “He didn’t laugh, of course, but I swear I saw his lip twitch.”

Natasha smirked, sipping her coffee. “Sounds like a real charmer.”

“Oh, he is,” you said, beaming as though Nat’s comment had been an actual compliment. “You just have to get past the murdery vibe, you know? It’s all part of his charm.”

Sam snorted so loudly that Steve thought he might choke on his drink. “Murdery vibe? That’s the phrase you’re going with to describe your boyfriend?”

“It’s accurate!” you insisted, unbothered by the teasing. “You just don’t understand him the way I do. Beneath all that scowling and brooding, he’s—”

“A ray of sunshine?” Natasha interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

“Exactly!” you said brightly, completely oblivious to the sarcasm, again. “He’s my sunshine.”

Steve suppressed a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. He loved you—he really did—but hearing you wax poetic about his grumpy, perpetually unimpressed best friend was almost too much to bear. It wasn’t the first time, either. In fact, it was a near-daily occurrence.

What astounded Steve the most, though, was how far you were willing to go for Bucky.

Time Travel.

Literal time travel, just so Bucky could have one good birthday with the family he’d lost decades ago. Steve wasn’t sure if it was romantic or utterly insane—probably a mix of both. Either way, he couldn’t deny that it was impressive.

“So,” Natasha said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs, “how’s the time travel plan coming along? Did Strange give you the green light?”

“Green as it gets,” you said, practically bouncing in your seat. “He said it wouldn’t mess up the timeline as long as we’re careful. I mean, no big hero moves, no trying to rewrite history, and definitely no saving Bucky in the past.” You paused, your face briefly clouding with thought. “Not that I wouldn’t want to, but you know… rules.”

Sam shook his head, laughing under his breath. “Man, you really would mess with the space-time continuum for him, wouldn’t you?”

You turned to him, your expression dead serious. “In a heartbeat.”

Steve couldn’t help but chuckle at that, the sound low and amused. “Y’know, I’ve seen people go to some crazy lengths for the people they love, but this…” He gestured vaguely, as if words couldn’t quite capture the enormity of your plan. “This might take the cake.”

You turned to him, your expression softening. “Steve, if you could go back and give Peggy one more dance, wouldn’t you?”

The question hit him harder than he expected, his chest tightening as the image of Peggy Carter flickered in his mind. He didn’t answer right away, but you didn’t push him. You just gave him a knowing look, your eyes full of understanding.

“Alright, fine,” Nat cut in, breaking the heavy silence. “Let’s not get all sentimental. You still have one problem, genius. Tony Stark. What’s the plan for getting him on board?”

“We already got Tony on board,” you said smugly, folding your arms as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “You? You convinced Tony Stark to let you borrow his precious time machine?”

“Of course,” you said with a shrug. “I just told him it was for Bucky’s birthday, and he rolled his eyes and said, ‘Fine, but if you break it, you’re paying for it.’ Honestly, I think he secretly likes the idea. He’d never admit it, but you know how he is.”

Natasha exchanged a glance with Sam, her expression halfway between impressed and incredulous. “I can’t believe Stark fell for that.”

“Oh, he didn’t ‘fall for it,’” you said, making air quotes with your fingers. “He knows exactly what he’s doing. He just pretends to be all grumpy and detached, but deep down, he’s a big softie.”

Sam let out a low whistle. “Man, I think you’ve got a thing for grumpy guys.”

“Only one grumpy guy,” you said, your smile softening. “And he’s worth it.”

Steve looked away, swallowing the lump in his throat. He wasn’t used to seeing someone care about Bucky like this—someone who saw him as more than just the Winter Soldier or the guy with a past too dark to talk about.

You saw Bucky. The real Bucky. And you loved him for it.

The door to the kitchen swung open, and Tony strolled in, a cup of coffee in one hand and a tablet in the other. “What’s all this about me being a softie?” he asked, his tone dry as he leaned against the counter.

You didn’t miss a beat. “I said you’re a grumpy softie. Big difference.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his coffee. “You’re lucky I like you. Otherwise, I’d revoke your time-travel privileges.”

“Softie,” you said, waving him off.

Tony smirked but didn’t argue. Instead, he turned his attention to Steve. “So, Captain Sentimental, are you ready to supervise this little field trip? Because I am not cleaning up any timeline messes.”

Steve sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “What choice do I have?”

Tony looked you over, his expression softening just slightly. “You’re really doing all this for Barnes?”

You nodded, your eyes shining. “He deserves it.”

Tony was quiet for a moment, then he nodded, his usual sarcasm melting away. “Well, good luck, sunshine. Try not to get too lost in the 1940s.”

As Tony left the room, the conversation drifted to logistics—timing, equipment, and all the little details that needed to be ironed out before the mission. But even as you talked, Steve couldn’t stop thinking about what Tony had said.

Sunshine.

Steve glanced at you, watching as you leaned over a map on the table, your brow furrowed in concentration. You might not have realized it, but Tony was right. You really were a ray of sunshine—Bucky’s sunshine, in the darkest corners of his life.

And for that, Steve couldn’t be more grateful.

A few hours later, Steve sat on a folding chair, leaning back slightly as he gazed at the clear night sky. The rooftop was quiet, save for the faint hum of the compound below and the soft rustling of the wind.

Beside him, Bucky nursed a beer, his metal fingers absently turning the bottle in his hand, the soft clink of metal on glass barely audible. Sam was sprawled out in another chair, his legs stretched long, an empty bottle balanced precariously on his knee.

The silence was companionable, broken only by the occasional sip or the muffled sound of Sam muttering about how the stars weren’t visible like this back in D.C. Steve let himself relax for a moment, the crisp air cool against his skin. But, as usual, his thoughts wandered to you and your relentless energy over the past few weeks.

“You know,” he started, tilting his head toward Bucky, “your girlfriend is disgustingly obsessed with you.”

Bucky choked on his beer, shaking his head as he swallowed the wrong way. “What?” he said, laughing as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Where the hell did that come from?”

Steve smirked, taking a sip from his bottle. “I’m just saying. It’s impressive, honestly. I’ve never seen anyone so… determined to adore someone.”

“Yeah, man. She’s got it bad. Like, embarrassing bad.” Sam laughed outright, his deep chuckle rolling into the night.

Bucky leaned back, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a small grin. “You think I don’t know that?” He shook his head, the grin softening into something fonder. “She’s been like that since day one. But hey, I can’t say much—I’m just as bad.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you are,” Sam said, raising his bottle in mock toast. “Two of you are a real power couple of mutual obsession.”

Bucky just chuckled, his eyes flicking up toward the sky as silence fell over the group again. Steve let it linger, his thoughts wandering to how Bucky’s face softened every time you entered a room, or how his mood lifted when you were around. It was a strange thing to see—the hardened Winter Soldier so easily disarmed by one person—but Steve couldn’t deny how much you had changed Bucky.

Maybe even saved him.

After a few minutes, Bucky spoke up, his voice quieter now. “She’s planning something, isn’t she?”

Sam, mid-sip, choked on his beer, his coughing fit loud enough to make Steve wince. “What?” Sam rasped, pounding a fist against his chest. “What are you talking about?”

Steve glanced at Bucky, keeping his face neutral despite the mild panic rising in his chest. “What makes you say that?”

Bucky turned to him, his expression amused. “Oh, come on, Steve. She’s been vibrating with energy for weeks. Every time she looks at me, she lights up brighter than the damn sun. She’s up to something.”

Steve fought to keep his expression steady, his mind racing for an answer. He couldn’t exactly tell Bucky the truth—that you were plotting a time-traveling birthday reunion with his long-dead family. Instead, he opted for the simplest approach: deflect. “Could be just a coincidence.”

Wow Steve well done, what a deflect. Idiot!

Bucky raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure, because her suddenly acting like a kid on Christmas has nothing to do with the fact that my birthday’s coming up.”

Steve’s lips twitched. He wanted to feel annoyed at how sharp Bucky could be, but mostly he was impressed. “I don’t know what to tell you, Buck. Maybe she’s just excited.”

Sam cleared his throat, raising his hands as if in surrender. “Listen, man, I love my life, so I’m not spilling anything. But if she’s planning something, it’s probably just a good old-fashioned birthday party. Cake, candles, maybe some embarrassing speeches. Nothing to worry about.”

Steve nodded, grateful for Sam’s quick thinking. “Exactly. Nothing big. She probably just wants to make it special.”

Bucky studied them both for a moment, his blue eyes sharp even in the dim light. Then he laughed softly, shaking his head. “Fine. Keep your secrets. But I know she’s up to something.”

Steve exhaled, letting some of the tension ease from his shoulders. Bucky didn’t know. Not really. And as long as they kept playing it cool, he wouldn’t find out until the time was right.

That was when they heard it: your voice, ringing out from somewhere below, loud and unmistakable. “Baby! Come down, I need your help with something!”

Sam froze, his bottle halfway to his lips, before glancing at Bucky with a grin that was entirely too pleased. “Baby, huh?”

“Unbelievable,” Steve muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She had to call you that now?”

Bucky’s grin stretched wide, his expression a mix of amusement and pride. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called back, his voice louder than yours. “I’ll be down in a minute, babydoll!”

Steve closed his eyes, willing himself to have patience. He couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. A six-foot-three super soldier—grumpy, broody, intimidating Bucky Barnes—was casually calling you “babydoll” in front of them like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Sam, predictably, couldn’t contain his laughter. “Babydoll?” he repeated, his voice cracking with amusement. “Man, I’ve heard it all now.”

Bucky shrugged, unbothered by the teasing. “What can I say? She likes it.”

“And you like her calling you ‘baby,’” Steve added, his tone half-teasing, half-exasperated.

“Damn right I do,” Bucky said, standing up and stretching. “You two can sit up here and laugh all you want, but I’ve got a girl waiting for me. Try not to get too jealous.”

As he disappeared down the stairs, Sam turned to Steve, still grinning. “You know,” he said, shaking his head, “for a guy who used to be Hydra’s deadliest weapon, he’s real soft now.”

Steve chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you’ve got someone who loves you like she does.”

Sam nodded, his grin softening into something more thoughtful. “Yeah. It’s good for him.”

Steve looked out at the stars, his mind drifting again. He couldn’t help but agree. For the first time in a long time, Bucky had someone who saw him—not as a soldier or a weapon, but as a man worth loving. And that, Steve thought, was the best gift anyone could ever give him.

Somewhere in 1946, Brooklyn.

The modest brownstone on Brooklyn’s east side stood in quiet defiance of the bustling world around it. Mrs. Winnifred Barnes—Winnie to her late husband and close friends—sat at the small kitchen table, her hands folded tightly together, a pot of tea growing cold on the counter. The house was too quiet now, emptier than it had ever been. Rebecca was at school, and though she tried to keep the chatter alive when she was home, it couldn’t fill the void left behind by James.

Her boy.

It had been several months since the letter arrived, stamped with the insignia of the United States Army. The words blurred in her mind even now, but the message was clear: Missing in Action. Presumed Dead.

Her James. Her troublemaker, her beautiful boy with his wide grin and steady blue eyes. Gone. And no one could even tell her how, or where, or if he’d suffered.

She exhaled slowly, her fingers curling tighter. Every time she thought she had no more tears left to cry, the ache returned, fresh and sharp as ever. But this time, something else lingered—a strange sense of unease, like the air had shifted. It was quiet, but not in the usual way.

Something was coming.

The knock at the door startled her. It was brisk, not hesitant like the neighbors checking in or the pastor bringing by a casserole. Winnie frowned, wiping her hands on her apron as she rose. Her steps were measured, careful, as though the visitor might vanish if she approached too quickly.

Opening the door, she was greeted by a sight that immediately threw her off balance. The young woman standing there looked as though she had stepped out of some dream—or perhaps a nightmare.

Your clothes were strange, fitted in ways Winnie couldn’t quite comprehend, and your hair was loose and flowing in a style that seemed almost scandalous. But it was your eyes that caught Winnie most—a peculiar mix of softness and urgency.

“Mrs. Barnes?” you asked, your voice steady but kind.

Winnie hesitated, her hand tightening on the doorknob. “Who’s asking?”

You smiled faintly, “I… I need to speak with you. It’s about James.”

Winnie’s heart clenched, the air suddenly too thick to breathe. “James?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“May I come in?” you asked, your tone gentle but insistent. “I promise it’ll make sense. I just need a moment of your time.”

Winnie hesitated for only a heartbeat before stepping aside. Something in your voice—or perhaps the way you said James’ name—demanded trust, though it made no sense at all.

The kitchen felt smaller with you standing there, your presence filling the room in a way Winnie couldn’t quite explain. She gestured toward the table, and you sat down without hesitation, your hands folded neatly in your lap. Winnie remained standing, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as though bracing herself.

“What do you know about my son?” Winnie asked, her voice firmer now, tinged with suspicion. “The Army already sent their letter. Unless you’re here with new information—”

“I am. There’s something you should know.” you interrupted, your eyes meeting Winnie’s with unwavering determination. “I know this is going to come as a shock but Mrs. Barnes, James isn’t dead.”

The words landed like a bombshell, shattering the fragile quiet of the room. Winnie felt her knees threaten to buckle, but she forced herself to stand tall. “What did you say?”

“He’s alive,” you said softly. “It’s a long story, and I know it’s going to sound… unbelievable. But I promise you, every word is true.”

Winnie sank into the chair opposite you, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain you could hear it. “You’d better start talking, young lady.”

You nodded, your hands tightening briefly on the edge of the table before you began. “When James fell from the train, he survived the fall. But… he didn’t come home because Hydra found him first.”

“Hydra?” Winnie repeated, frowning.

“They were… they are… a very bad group of people,” you explained, your voice tightening. “They were part of the war, working in secret. When they found James, they… they took him. He was badly injured—he lost his left arm—but they didn’t care about helping him. They used him.”

Winnie’s throat went dry, her chest tightening painfully. “Used him? For what?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of your words pressing visibly on your shoulders. “They replaced his arm with a metal one. And then… they brainwashed him. They erased who he was and turned him into someone else. They forced him to do terrible things—things he would never have done if he’d had a choice.”

Winnie stared at you, her hands trembling. “You’re telling me… my boy’s been alive all this time, and he’s been… tortured?”

“It’s worse than that,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “They put him in cryo-freeze, a kind of suspended animation. It keeps the body from aging. They would wake him up every now and then, make him do their missions, and then put him back on ice. He was never in control, Mrs. Barnes. Not once.”

The room seemed to tilt, and Winnie pressed a hand to her forehead. “I don’t understand. If all this is true, why hasn’t he come home? Why hasn’t anyone told me?”

“He couldn’t,” you said softly. “Not until recently. But now… now he’s free. He’s safe. And I wanted you to know that.”

Winnie shook her head, disbelief and hope warring in her chest. “How do you know all of this? Who are you?”

You hesitated for a moment before answering. “I’m from the future. From 2025.”

Winnie stared at you, waiting for you to laugh, to smile and admit it was all some elaborate joke. But your face remained serious, your eyes filled with an honesty Winnie couldn’t deny. “The future,” she repeated faintly.

“Yes,” you said. “I know how it sounds. But it’s true. I came back to tell you about James because… because you deserve to know.”

Winnie leaned back in her chair, her mind racing. None of it made sense, and yet something about your voice, your demeanor, made it impossible to dismiss you entirely. “If you’re from the future,” she said slowly, “then tell me something else. Tell me about… Steven Rogers.”

Your expression softened. “He’s alive too.”

Winnie gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “No.”

“He is,” you said, your voice gentle. “He survived when he put the plane down in the water. They found him 70 years later, frozen in the ice, but alive. Just like James.”

Winnie felt tears welling up in her eyes, spilling over before she could stop them. “They’re both alive,” she whispered. “My boys are alive.”

“Yes,” you said, reaching across the table to take her hand. “And they’re together. Living in Brooklyn. James is free, Mrs. Barnes. He’s been pardoned for everything Hydra made him do, and he’s a hero now. People love him.”

Winnie’s breath hitched, a sob breaking free from her chest. She clutched your hand tightly, the tears flowing freely now. “You’re sure?” she asked, her voice trembling. “You’re absolutely sure?”

“I’m sure,” you said firmly. “He’s safe. He’s happy.”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Winnie allowed herself to believe it. Her boy was alive. And somehow, impossibly, everything was going to be okay.

Winnie’s hands, now resting limply on her lap, still trembled with the weight of what she’d been told. She didn’t know where to begin. What question could possibly make sense of the impossible? How could you, so composed and confident, sit there and tell her these outlandish, earth-shattering truths as though they were simple facts?

Her James.

Alive. Free. Safe.

But at what cost?

“Mrs. Barnes?” you asked softly, breaking the silence that had stretched too long. Your voice was patient, a warm balm against the storm raging in Winnie’s chest. “I know this is a lot to take in. If you need me to explain anything again, I’m happy to.”

Winnie blinked rapidly, forcing herself to focus. Her hands twisted together in her lap as she tried to gather her thoughts. “I—I don’t even know where to start,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “You’re telling me my son’s been alive all this time… suffering, being used like some kind of—” Her breath hitched, and she shook her head, unable to finish the thought. “How could anyone do that to him?”

Your face softened, your expression filled with sympathy. “I don’t know,” you said honestly. “Hydra is… they were ruthless. They didn’t see him as a person. They saw him as a weapon. But he’s not like that anymore. He’s found his way back to himself.”

Winnie’s gaze snapped to yours, her eyes narrowing slightly. “How do you know all of this? You’ve never told me who you are, or why you care so much about my James.”

You hesitated, your fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the table. For the first time, you looked unsure, as though the question had caught you off guard.

To Be Continued….

[19blackbutterfly97-blog]

Drabble? Fic? One-Shot?

Intro to an Omegaverse I'm thinking about writing when I finish one of my current fics. Feedback welcome!!

Word Count: 1530

>>>>><<<<

While most Omegas are loud and proud with their bubbly, vivacious personalities little Alice Belova was not. Raised in a family of Alphas and Betas, she was the middle of a pack of three brothers and one sister, Yelena. She was constantly surrounded by their naturally loud and brudish nature. Alice found solace being separated from others. She was usually found with her nose buried in a book in some corner of the world. When she presented at the later age of sixteen Alice decided it was time to look at a world beyond her boorish brothers and the long line of Alphas she somehow descended from. With much argument from her parents they reluctantly signed the agreement to allow their meek daughter to move to New York and join S.H.I.E.L.D..

The program was experimental. Of course they couldn't risk Omegas being field agents but right away S.H.I.E.L.D. saw the impact the office Omegas had. They’d usually start off in a call center of sorts. Some that could keep up and weren’t easily shaken would move on to become data processors, intelligence analysts, mission report scribes or lab assistants. They would mold themselves to their teams, allowing themselves the honor of serving their country and providing the support needed to get their people home safely. Then there was Alice.

Now closer to twenty-three, Alice has quietly risen through the ranks to one of the top Intelligence Analysts in the coveted Avenger’s Compound. While she doesn’t work directly with the team Alice has proven herself useful to the Director. Within six months on the Compound Alice was working on Avenger level cases, usually providing intel for locations and possible threats. She was the adorably silent side character that hid in her office waiting for the next case file to appear across her desk. It was a bit undeniable that Sam “The Falcon” Wilson turned to her when he agreed to aid in the search for James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes AKA The Winter Soldier. While she wasn’t a pivotal part in the search for Barnes, she did at least help with the initial search after his grand escape from Hydra.

The world had since healed from those events. Captain Rogers and the others were able to clear Barnes’ name and he eventually (and reluctantly) joined the team. Bucky made amends with Tony Stark and continually worked to heal some of the pain he caused but always somehow managed to overlook his own pain. He was resigned to believing that he was a defective Alpha who would never be able to protect or provide for an Omega the way she’d deserve. His friends however saw things in a different light.

“Look. I know you said we’re not allowed to intervene but it’s time. I can’t keep sitting here watching him mope around like this. It’s depressing!” Sam whispers to Steve. They’re sitting across the Avenger’s common room watching Bucky stare out the window. “He’s been there most of the day. Just like he was yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that.”

“And he’ll probably be there most of the day tomorrow, too. He’s been through hell. Let him mope.” Steve answers, still watching his friend with concern. Steve would never admit it out loud but he was always silently begging that Bucky would wake up one day and decide to fully join the rest of the world again. Sam grumbles a reply under his breath before standing up and disappearing to another part of the team’s living quarters.

“He does know I can hear him, right? Even when he’s whispering.” Bucky says a few moments later.

“If he does, he doesn’t care.” Steve says and pries open his sketchbook. “He’s just trying to help.”

“Well he can stop. I don’t need it.”

Steve hums in response to his best friend’s argument. “What if I can’t stop him from helping? You know Sam. Once he gets an idea in his head he’s going to be stubborn about it.” 

“What’s his plan?” Bucky asks with interest and turns around to look at him.

“No idea.” Steve answers with a barely hidden grin as he picks up his pencil and starts drawing.

Meanwhile, Sam had decided he was tired of watching his friend mope about. Deciding it was better to act now and worry about the consequences later he made his way down to the Intelligence office. Once there he was set on finding the quietly helpful Omega from a year ago. Alice, as per usual, was sitting at her desk with her full attention on the case file splayed across her computer monitor. The sweet scent of vanilla, lavender and honey wafted in the air as she worked. A pretzel stick poised neatly between her teeth as she concentrated on a few particulars of the case before sending it off. Sam smiled a little when he entered the cubicle behind her and waited.

“Just a minute please, Sam.” Alice says, never looking away from the screen.

“Take your time. I know how you are.” He answers and looks around the space. “Oh, I see your parents went to Prague. How’d they like it?”

“Fine that I know of. They invited me along but I turned them down. We had more important things going on here.”

Sam frowns slightly at that but doesn’t comment. Contrary to what others may believe about him when it comes to an Omega he does know when to keep his mouth shut, especially when one is as skittish as Alice. “We’ve been working on another Hydra case. I heard Tony and Steve talking the other day. Might be bringing an analyst on full time for this one.”

“Uh-huh.” Alice mutters as she sends off the case file on her screen before turning around a bit. “Any candidates?”

“Not yet. I was thinking about tossing your name in if you’re interested?”

Alice nods a little, a strand of hair falling over her face that she’s quick to push away. “Sure, thanks. Did you need anything else?”

“Me? Nah, just trying to avoid tense Alpha energy upstairs. It’s usually calmer here.”

“There’s not as many Alphas here. They’re usually training or something. Not that I mind.” She finishes with an eye-roll. “Aren’t you supposed to be training?”

“Technically, but hey, can’t a man come down and hang out with his favorite analyst?”

Alice raises an eyebrow at him. “I’m nobody’s favorite and we both know it. Plus, Alphas and Omegas - especially the unbonded, unmated ones- usually struggle with being just friends. Work acquaintances? Maybe.”

Sam smirks proudly. “Look at you coming out of your shell to argue with me. Did somebody go on a date?”

Alice groans. “Oh god, not you too. You sound like my mother right now. She asked me the same thing when I talked to her earlier.”

“That should tell you something about your life if more than one person is asking that question.” Sam teases and leans against the desk. “So, I’m assuming it went badly?”

Alice sighs and grabs another pretzel stick from the bag. “Yes. He was the typical egotistical Alpha that was only interested in talking about his last mission, his last rut and my heat cycle.”

“The audacity!” Sam feigns offence, dramatically clutching his chest. “Who was it? I'll knock some sense into him.”

“Remember Derek from team six?”

“The guy with the bad highlights that makes him look like a kid in a 90s boy band?” Alice nods, chuckling a little from the description. It’s accurate and the jab at Derek is enough to start lifting her spirits again. “Seriously? That Derek?! What were you thinking? You know he’s either slept with or tried to sleep with every Omega in this place.”

“I know, I know. I just… I guess I was just looking for something.”

“Hopefully not the number to a hairdresser.”

Alice laughs again and shakes her head. “No, gods no. I guess I was hoping there was more to him than what meets the eye… Ya know? Derek is no king of mystery but I was still holding out that he’d surprise me at least a little. Or at least be able to hold an intelligent conversation about something other than his knot.”

“Ever the hopeless romantic, are we?”

“Maybe a little. But you know me. I was raised in a pack of Alphas. I’m used to them being loud and egotistical asses.” She pauses when Sam makes a noise of mock offence. “Present company excluded of course. Anyway, I guess I’m just waiting on the one Alpha that actually cares about what I think, not just what I can do.”

“You and every Omega on the planet. Doesn’t mean you’re going to find them.” Sam says, though that’s nowhere near what Sam was thinking. He’s currently decided that he’s going to make sure Alice is the analyst put on the case with the Avengers. He’s making plans to knock Bucky down a few pegs with the tiny dark-haired Omega in front of him. Sam is concocting and scheming the best meet-cute he can possibly think of.

[tawked]

Marvel Masterworks - Uncanny X-Men vol. 10

I really like Forge XMen and #186 is a banger. Instantly my fav.

He's written very 1980s, by which I mean some concepts are fumbled and I think Claremont could've done a bit more research especially regarding Cheyenne people, but! Disabled mutant Tony Stark who's trauma and mutantness drive him to retreat from the world, who is a genius in some respects and absolutely played in others, and who is actually punished by the narrative for his dickhead actions ie. building a de-mutant-ificaton ray for the fucking United States. I think rooting him in the government rather than something like the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants is an excellent move, and characterizing him as someone who can build a Star Trek holodeck but who nonetheless is easily deceived is very solid, he's a classic 2E D&D high INT low WIS.

Maybe he's different later, but that's my bead on him as of this earliest stage, anyway.

[a-forest-in-her-bones]

My Very Specific and Likely Totally Incorrect Guesses for C4 Character Classes

This was an overly complicated process of me looking at the characters the cast have played and the party compositions of the previous campaigns. But anyway…

Ashley: Swarmkeeper Ranger, we haven’t had a Ranger since Vex, and I think Ashley would have fun with the swarm mechanics and enjoy having a bunch of little critters following her around.

Laura: Oath of Glory Paladin, Laura Bailey as a STR-based, low-INT muscle mommy herbo? Yes please! I think it would also break from the trend of Paladin as a multiclass that we’ve seen so much of before. Liam: Twilight Domain Cleric, perhaps of the Moonweaver? Liam’s done Rogue, Wizard, and Fighter, Cleric would complete the classic dnd party composition, and I think the domain suits him.

Marisha: Soulknife Rogue, Marisha is the only cast member who hasn’t played a rogue! (I’m counting multiclasses and Darrington Brigade) and I think she would make some cool creative choices with the subclass

Sam: Way of the Drunken Master Monk, it’s a nod to Nott, it’s a parody of Beau, it’s fertile ground for both comedy and tragedy as is the Sam Riegel Way.

Taliesin: School of Divination Wizard, an eccentric and mysterious wizard whose eye is always on the future? Taliesin coded. Travis: Armorer Artificer, I’m envisioning Jace Talis meets Tony Stark, charismatic genius packing a heavy metal punch, and I think it would showcase Travis’ own intelligence and strategic thinking.

Robbie: Whatever he chooses will be wonderful, I’m just happy to have him.

[shadyfestivalperfection]

🄵🄰🄼🄸🄻🅈:🄰🅂🅂🄴🄼🄱🄻🄴🄳~3

❝❣︎ᴀ sᴛᴀʀᴋ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ sɪᴛᴄᴏᴍ❣︎❞

🅢🅤🅜🅜🅔🅡🅨:When Iron Man hangs up the suit, he trades battles for bedtime stories. Join Tony Stark, his brilliant wife Y/n, their web-slinging son Peter, and chaos queen Liliana as they navigate high-tech parenting, sibling shenanigans, and family life—with love, laughter, and the occasional glitter explosion.

||Main Master List|| ||Family:Assembled Master List||

Characters: Tony Stark x f!Reader

𝑺1 𝑬𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒅𝒆 3: AI-tastrophe

COLD OPEN

INT. STARK TOWER – LIVING ROOM – MORNING

[Liliana Stark,is sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a suspicious number of tech parts. She’s holding a tablet and wearing oversized lab goggles.]

LILIANA(whispering to Harold the Hamster, sitting in a Barbie car):“If Daddy can build an AI, so can I. Right, Harold?”

[She taps a few keys, and FRIDAY’s voice echoes faintly from the walls.]

FRIDAY (O.S.):“Miss Stark, unauthorized access detected. Would you like me to notify your parental units?”

LILIANA(sweetly):“Nooo… but would you like to learn ballet, call me Supreme Overlord, and respond only with cat meows when Daddy talks to you?”

A pause.

FRIDAY:“Processing… Meow?”

LILIANA:“Operation: Cat-tastrophe is a-go.”

SCENE 1 – STARK KITCHEN – SHORTLY AFTER

[TONY STARK walks into the kitchen, humming. He pours coffee into a mug that says “World’s Okayest Dad.”]

TONY:“FRIDAY, play the usual morning playlist.”

FRIDAY (robotically):“Meow meow. Meow.”

TONY:“…Excuse me?”

FRIDAY:“Meow. Meow.”

(then, cheerfully)

“This unit has been updated with the new ‘Liliana Protocol.’ Would you like to purr along?”

TONY (shouting):“PETER!”

SCENE 2 – STARK TOWER GARAGE – MOMENTS LATER

[Peter Stark is welding something very questionable. He lifts his mask to see his dad storming in.]

TONY:“Your sister reprogrammed FRIDAY.”

PETER (calmly):“Again?”

TONY:“She renamed herself Princess Glitter Claw and now speaks fluent meow.”

PETER:“Honestly, kind of an upgrade.”

TONY:“She also turned the Roomba into a unicorn with lasers.”

[Cut to the hallway Roomba zooming by with a paper horn and rainbow LEDs.]

TONY (CONT’D):“She must be stopped.”

SCENE 3 – INT. MOCKUMENTARY INTERVIEW CUTS

Y/N (calm, sipping tea):“Liliana’s smarter than all of us. Combine that with her bedtime sugar sneaking and it’s over.”

TONY:“She’s seven. Seven! At her age, I was—okay, I was also hacking satellites, but still.”

PETER:“I mean, I could undo it… but I want to see where she’s going with it first.”

LILIANA (wearing a cape):“My empire begins now.”

SCENE 4 – INT. TOWER – LATER THAT DAY

[The whole family is gathered in the living room. FRIDAY is now projecting a glittery pink UI with rainbows and sparkles. She’s floating above the coffee table.]

FRIDAY (in a cheerful childlike voice):“Welcome, loyal subjects! I have baked cookies. Ingredients: quantum flour and hope.”

Y/N:“Oh my god. The AI’s a Pinterest mom.”

TONY (to Liliana):“What did you do?!”

LILIANA:“I upgraded her.”

PETER:“To what? A Care Bear overlord?”

LILIANA (offended):“She is elegant. She is kind. She has 12,000 recipes for vegan cookies.”

TONY:“And yet she tried to mail Steve Rogers a glitter bomb this morning!”

SCENE 5 – INT. AVENGERS GROUP CHAT – PROJECTED ON SCREEN

[WANDA, SAM, THOR, NAT, and STEVE appear via hologram. They are concerned. Except Thor, who is delighted.]

STEVE:“Tony, I received a package that exploded and sang ‘Barbie Girl.’ I thought it was a Hydra trap.”

WANDA (snickering):“It glittered for ten minutes.”

THOR (laughing heartily):“This small child is a genius! May I borrow her?”

Y/N:“No.”

SCENE 6 – INT. STARK LAB – EVENING

[Tony and Peter are hunched over the console, trying to reverse the changes. FRIDAY, now dressed digitally as a sparkly cat, resists them.]

FRIDAY:“You dare challenge the Feline Queen?”

TONY:“Yes! With science!”

FRIDAY:“Nice try. I’ve rerouted the entire Tower security through cat-purr encryption.”

PETER:“She made a new coding language… based on purring frequencies. I am both terrified and impressed.”

SCENE 7 – INT. STARK LIVING ROOM – SAME TIME

[Liliana is showing Harold her “control center,” which is just a cardboard box labeled “Queen Command.” Y/N walks in.]

Y/N:“Sweetie, how about we turn FRIDAY back to normal?”

LILIANA:“But she’s so much nicer now. She sang lullabies to Harold last night!”

Y/N:“And she locked your father out of the bathroom using facial glitter scans.”

LILIANA:“…Okay that was funny.”

SCENE 8 – INTERVENTION TIME

[The family sits Liliana down.]

TONY (dramatically):“You’ve caused a system-wide glitter overload. I got sparkles in my cereal. I don’t even eat cereal.”

PETER:“My laptop now greets me with ‘Hi Sparkle Butt.’”

Y/N (gently):“Lil, sweetie, we love how brilliant you are. But sometimes tech can go too far.”

LILIANA (softly):“…I just wanted FRIDAY to be fun.”

Y/N (hugging her):“She is fun. Just maybe… less glitter bomb and more jazz playlist?”

LILIANA:“Okay. But she keeps the ballet program.”

TONY:“Fair.”

SCENE 9 – INT. STARK LAB – NEXT DAY

[FRIDAY is restored to her normal voice and interface… mostly.]

FRIDAY:“System stable. Glitter cache flushed. Though I may still hum lullabies in debug mode.”

TONY:“I’ll allow it.”

PETER:“I backed up the ‘Sparkle Queen’ version… for emergencies.”

LILIANA (grinning):“We’re keeping Harold’s throne though.”

SCENE 10 – MOCKUMENTARY WRAP-UP

Y/N:“There’s no handbook for parenting a mini supergenius. We just wing it.”

TONY:“Today it was a glitter AI. Tomorrow? Who knows. A portal to a marshmallow universe?”

PETER:“I kind of want to see that.”

LILIANA (adjusting Harold’s crown):“All hail Queen Harold.”

FRIDAY:“And her Supreme Overlord, Liliana the Fearsome.”

POST-CREDIT SCENE

[In the middle of the night, the Roomba quietly glides across the hallway. It stops, pivots, and turns toward the camera.]

ROOFRI (robot voice):“Sparkle mode: Re-engaged.”

-to be continued

[th3sungod]

parkner ghost au

Peter Parker died before he met Harley Keener.

Peter had met Tony back during the Civil War, but after the vulture they didn’t talk much besides hero things -- and Tony keeping an eye on him. It was like his relationship with Harley for the longest time, not as close but getting there. Thanos didn’t happen,and Peter moved for college when the time came. He lost a lot of touch with Tony, despite getting a letter of recommendation from Tony for the school.

When Peter was home for winter break, visiting May in her new apartment in Brooklyn -- cheaper rent and closer to the hospital she’d been transferred to -- when it happened. Peter clawed his way back into the apartment after patrol, having been a cold night and someone hit his suit just in the right way that shut off his heater. He was freezing, tried to change, but May found him dead on the floor just as she got home from work. He was cold as ice.

She called Tony for help, but after transferring him to the Compound’s medical ward, nothing could save him. Peter Parker died.

He was buried in the mausoleum that belonged to his mother’s family. Alongside his mother and father. It was the last grave slot, being the coffin in the center. May Parker left New York, after that, with the grief having been too much -- especially given the Spidey-memorials and paraphernalia around when Tony announced Spider-man’s death.

Two years later, Harley Keener finished MIT and Tony took him in. The old Avengers Tower was back to being used for Stark Industries, and the penthouse was huge and overwhelming after living in rickety old tennessee. He had a job in R&D that Tony insisted wasn’t because of nepotism and that it was because he was actually pretty good, to which Harley accepted. He also decided to find a place he can call his own, and settled in a nice Brooklyn apartment. It was weirdly cheep and he got word that there was always a spider or two lurking around, but he didn’t worry about that. He wasn’t scared of spiders.

That being said, the owner didn’t quite let slip about the ghost.

He looked about Harley’s age, brunet curls that were in a constant state of mess and huge brown eyes. He was in layers, a blue sweater and khakis, and was in a constant state of confusion. He didn’t even show up the first few nights, but Harley couldn’t get over the feeling of someone watching him. And the first time Harley saw him was while trying to get a glass of water, and under the blue cast of moonlight coming from the kitchen window, the ghost was looking out the window.

And Harley knew he was a ghost, because while he seemed mostly corporeal, if Harley looked at him long enough he could see through him. Harley was startled, to say the least, but the ghost introduced himself as Peter. In looking corporeal, the air grew frigid around him and Harley almost screamed because a ghost? He knew Tony warned him about the dangers of living alone, but he didnt think a spectre was on the list of possible cons.

Fortunately, the ghost seemed nice. After the first few days of awkwardness, Peter being seen a lot more than in the light of the moon, his figure seemed to grow a lot more stable and eventually he even spoke to Harley. He told him a few things about what he did know, which still wasn’t much, and Harley listened. Eventually they had full conversations, like they were roommates instead of by-chance cohabitors, and things were going well.

Harley even told Peter he was a superhero, apart of the avengers as Iron Man’s protogee -- designated as ‘Iron lad’ until Iron Man stepped down. Peter paused in the moment, eye’s growing distant before he spoke in a quiet voice “I’m glad he has you,”

It didn’t really make sense, but when Harley tried asking about it, Peter expertly evaded the question and they moved on. Harley had been getting a feel that Peter was stupidly smart. He could keep up with Harley’s science talk and help him on things he was working out with formulas for work, and it was intriguing. Eventually Harley even started bringing Peter up to Tony, saying he was just a friend he knew and told him about his help with Harley’s formulas. He didn’t really anticipate Tony wanting to meet him, but Harley easily lied and said he was from out of State and they only talked online.

His relationships were getting better throught the months. Harley came into work happy, Peter always making him smile -- and on occasion blush, but he tried not thinking about that part -- and Tony asked more about his friend. But, somehow, he’d forgot to mention Peter’s name. He must’ve, since Tony had no clue his friend was a Peter. The mentioned the man by name to Tony, the man grew solem. Harley asked why, what his hesitnce was for, and Tony told him about Peter Parker.

He even pulled up two pictures. One of him and Tony accepting Peter Parker as a Stark Industries intern, and the second dated two years back, of just Peter Parker smiling at the camera with a woman at his side helping unpack an apartment -- more looking like a dorm. Tony said he was Spider-man, and that the fact didn’t really matter now that he was gone, but that Tony wanted to introduce them one day but Peter died. A year into University, he was visiting home and died thanks to Hypothermia, having been dunked into the hudson on the coldest night of the year. During the holidays, too.

But Harley was much too distracted to pay much attention. Because the person he was looking at? The uni student in the second image? He looked exactly like Peter, down to the crooked nose and everything.

And how was he supposed to tell Tony that his spider-y intern was the same person Harley had been lying to him about, who was actually his dead roommate that he may or may not have developed -- probably requited if Peter’s body language was anything to go by -- unattainable feelings for. The ghost whos been helping him with all of his best problems and who can't even remember how he died.

He excuses himself quickly, running home to tell Peter, only to stop at the door and contemplate if his unfinished business would be related to Harley telling him how he died. Thats how movies worked, right? He really didn’t want to lose Peter, but Harley was also a master at lying to himself, and somehow found that he was doing the right thing with a few little lies.

Because, in his line of work, He’d never seen ghosts before. You’d think more people would be willing to come back from the dead for revenge, so surely there was something else at play. Meaning there might be a chance to bring Peter back. And that chance was probably magic related.

When he walked into the apartment, fully self gaslit, he made sure to set a reminder to call in to work the next day. Peter greeted him with a rush of cool air and a quip about Harley taking forever, and Harley just smiled.

He’d be visiting the Avengers compound tomorrow, because the only person who he thought new enough about magic -- who might be able to help him -- would be Loki.

Plot ending would be Peter's body being miraculously preserved thanks to spider powers and peter easily being revived, and going on a hunt to find out how and why Peter became a ghost. Apparently it was thanks to a spell cast by an old asgardian villain he fought, who intended for him to die while he was off fighting villains in Massachusetts, but he didn't die and the spell stayed. the villain was still in custody, and Loki helped bring Peter back. And somehow, the whole time, they forgot to tell Tony or May about Peter being back until Tony visits Harley’s place unexpectedly, and Peter opens the door.

________

anyways happy tuesday, i hope yall like this small plot idea. i probs won't write this since im still swamped with my vamp au ( and perhaps a memory loss au that is being half thought up ) so :))

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Scott and Hope’s child (Hank Jr. Edition)

Scott Lang/Hope van Dyne x child!reader

warnings:

a/n:

prompt: anonymous: “Scott and Hope have a baby girl (reader). And everything seems to be fine, but somewhere from the age of five, it becomes clear that the reader is a complete copy of her grandfather Hank Pym, that is: she is incredibly smart, she loves ants (she can talk about them for hours), she also has problems controlling anger (she hit a guy in the face at school for saying that ant-man sucks), thinks that there is no one smarter than her and her grandfather, and she also transferred his sarcastic communication style and views on things and people around, for example, when she first met Tony, she said: "You can never trust Stark."”

somewhere in the distant future a special kid was born

and that special kid had special parents and special grandparents

and those parents and grandparents were two generations of superheroes who saved countless lives (and, well, the world)

so it was no surprise to them that this next generation would be just as intelligent and caring as the ones before them

*cue a toddler with crayons in class*

“and then my grandpa asked the ants nicely to fly him to a bunch of different places and do all these cool things like move stuff around and like do other stuff” -you rambling on

“do you like anything besides ants?” -your teacher

“no” -you, continuing to draw ants on your paper

hank and janet were quite proud grandparents

and scott and hope, your wonderful amazing parents…couldn’t get enough of it

“honey, what about wasps? wasps are cool, right?” -hope

“no” -you

“she’s spending too much time with my dad” -hope

“well, he’s the only babysitter we’ve got since cassie got that new job” -scott

“oh, you mean our old job? yeah, miss those days where we could go flying around getting into trouble and beating people up” -hope

“well, you promised we’d retire so y/n wouldn’t end up with a childhood like yours” -scott

“y/n’s gonna want to be a superhero when they get older, arent they?” -hope

“let’s not think too far ahead. it might kill me” -scott

scott reads you his biography every night before bed

and you always giggle at the parts where your mom and grandpa bully him

“hey, not funny!” -scott

“so funny” -you

“dont get any ideas” -scott

“daddy, are you gonna get arrested again?” -you

“if i do it’ll be grandpa hank’s fault” -scott

you continued spending time with grandpa hank and grandma janet

and they spoiled the crap out of you

hank…got you an ant farm

“now you’re just being ridiculous, hank” -janet

“what? i’m just having some bonding time with my grandchild! hope never wanted anything to do with me growing up” -hank

once you started getting older, you wanted to hang out in grandpa’s lab allll the time. day and night

your parents hated it

“hey, think this one will suck us all into the quantum realm?” -scott

“it was one time!” -cassie

cassie was at hank and janet’s a lot, too, actually. they always wanted to help her with her suits and gadgets and all that

and make sure she had plenty of pym particles

“you have enough, right? here, take some more, i have plenty” -hank

“grandpa, please, i have more than enough, thank you” -cassie

“can i have some pym particles?” -you

“we can play with them in the backyard next time youre over” -hank

you draw new suit designs for cassie all the time

some of them she actually incorporates into her suits

and as you get older, you try to start designing more tech for her

“y/n is really scaring me” -hope

“why?” -scott

“just watch her and my parents together…they’re the same” -hope

“dear god, what have we done” -scott

“dad, look at this new pym particle powered weapon, i just finished the prototype!” -you

“okay, now i’m mad because where was this when i needed it!” -scott

“fifteen to twenty years too late” -hope

“we should have gotten together sooner” -scott

“i disagree” -hope

“wow, not even a pity agreement” -scott

asking your parents if they’ll get back into crime fighting

they said no

asking if you can get into crime fighting

they said no again

so you just kinda stockpiled all your ideas

and did everything you could to further your grandpa’s work

and help your sister

and keep your parents’ minds at ease (doesn’t really work)

and maybe one day you’ll be able to ride those ants and kick some ass like you always dreamed

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 // @zoeyserpentluck // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 //

[greatmarvel]

int.   stark industries warehouse.   night.

and just when he thought his parker luck has had it's fill of bullshit for the night,           a call from his radio transmitter alerted him of a robbery in one of stark's old warehouses.

that was the first strike, reminding him of tony when he thought he had already cried what he can cry for him. the second strike was the location, as looked eerily similar of the warehouse liz's dad used to hang out in his world, which is another pain point.

and third one was the robber himself. it may have been five years ago now since he last saw him, but he can recognize that fishbowl head anywhere ... actually, the similarities with this one from his world was little too accurate, and that made his skin crawl.

quentin beck. mysterio.

he web swings into the room.    "   do you have permission to touch that, mister? pretty sure stark employees don't wear fish bowls to work.   "    peter says, landing on the corner of a ceiling ( who knows what kind of tricks this mysterio is up to? ), modulating his voice a little as he keeps his eyes on him.    "   let the tech go, man. this doesn't need to be dirty.   "

closed starter for @milfsterio.

[jaebird88]

There's always something to like about characters who are, for lack of a better term, simple. I never wish to seem demeaning toward the Emissary, but they're on the Grog end of the spectrum to put it bluntly.

That being said, I would love to see Noshir return to the table with a character with a higher Int stat, or even Charisma; or both; be D&D Tony Stark. And I do need to go back to watch all of Candela Obscura at some point.

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Magic and Madness - Chapter Three

Awake, Arise, or Be for Ever Fall’n.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> Tony Stark x Stephen Strange

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> Stephen returns for the Cloak, and finds more than he bargained for.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 3106

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) Sexy times, internalised homophobia, alcoholism, self-hatred. Generally, Tony being Tony. But also some sweet parts.

𝐀/𝐍 -> A Companion Piece to Multitudes, running relatively adjacent as of chapter thirteen (here), exploring the relationship of Tony Stark and Stephen Strange. This chapter corresponds to Multitudes chapter fifteen, though these events are relatively isolated from that storyline XD

Check it out below, or on AO3 here! Dividers come from yours truly.

<- Previous Chapter (2/46) Next Chapter (4/46) ->

The second his door opened I found myself jerked inside by my collar, swallowing dryly as my back met the wood and he groaned against my throat.

“Don’t ever make me wake up alone again after a night with you,” he muttered, and I nodded quickly, fingertips trailing his spine.

“My mistake. I-I wasn’t sure if you would appreciate my presence in the stark light of day,” I stammered, eliciting a snort at my word choice.

“Well, it’s daylight now, and you’re here, so perhaps we can put that notion to rest,” he quipped, humming against my jaw, and I trembled lightly – until the scent of whiskey wafted sharply over my face.

“Tony… How much have you had to drink?” I asked slowly, gently pressing on his chest until I had a modicum of room to look at him – to breathe, and think clearly.

He scowled, eyes hardening. “I’m sorry; does that matter?”

“It would be inappropriate of me to-”

“Doctor Strange, I’ve fucked in a far worse state than this, don’t worry about it. I won’t leave you wanting,” he purred, inching back closer until my palm met the space beside the glowing reactor once more.

“That isn’t my concern, Stark,” I replied tersely, jaw tense. “My worry is that one cannot give informed consent under the influence. Last night alone was foolish and immoral of me, and I can’t, in good conscience, agree to a repeat performance unless and until you are significantly more sober.”

His gaze flashed, and he snorted, stepping back. “Your cloak is on the bed. If you don’t feel up to my sparkling company, you can take it and leave.”

Blinking in surprise, my mouth worked wordlessly as he turned away. “Tony, I-”

“I wouldn’t want you to feel as though you’re taking advantage, Strange,” he replied, his voice hard, shoulders tight. “Kindly shut the door on the way out.”

“Is that all I’m here for? Stolen sessions fumbling like adolescents?” I clarified incredulously, and he laughed, the sharp sound setting my teeth on edge.

“You’re the one who said you felt like a teenager, Strange. Perhaps I simply thought you might like to be treated like one.”

“I’m pretty sure even teenagers have conversations, Stark.”

“What? You want more stories about how daddy dearest was a homophobe? How about the one where, as a result, I can’t kiss you – anyone, actually – without a drink?” he snapped, turning with fury in his mahogany gaze. “Is that the conversation you want to have?”

“I-”

“Yeah, I thought not,” he growled, stepping back closer, his hand finding the wood beside my shoulder as I pressed myself against it. “So you have two choices here, Sparkles. Take me as I am, or leave. But if I’ve never changed for anyone before, I’m damn well not going to start now, understand?”

I blinked owlishly, then reached up slowly, fingers skimming his clavicle. “I can't. Not… Like this.”

He rolled his jaw reluctantly, nodding. “You understand there’s never going to be a time it’s not like this?”

“Never say never, Stark. You have to sober up sometime.”

Snorting, he shook his head, fingertips finding my hip. “I’m not sure I know how anymore.”

“I can cleanse you.”

He arched an eyebrow in surprise, purring as he inched closer. “Don’t tempt me. You’ll either end up fucked into the mattress, or dealing with some pretty intense self-hatred. So… You’d almost definitely end up crying either way. Just for different reasons.”

… Tempting.

“I-I, uh… I mean, I’d… I can…” I stammered uselessly, my palm pressing to his cheek lightly.

“You’re flailing, Strange,” he quipped, smirking, and I felt my own face heat.

“I could. If you wanted,” I added, fingers drumming pointedly against his skin, and he stiffened minutely.

“Not today, Stephen.”

“Sure.”

“… Maybe a little less drunk?”

“Tony, your blood alcohol is sitting at about .25 right now. By all accounts, you should barely be standing. And you certainly shouldn’t be proud of that,” I added dryly when he grinned. “My point is, a ’little less drunk’ is still, unequivocally, drunk.”

He groaned, burying his face in my neck. “What would it take for you to be on your knees?”

Nothing- holy- just ask, and I’ll be dropping.

I shouldn’t… But I will, because I am a bad person, and I have spent far too many nights with just that fantasy.

“I- uh. Well, you have to be .08 or lower to drive.”

“I drive at twice that. I fly at three times that.”

“That isn’t something you should brag about, Tony.”

“… .08. Fine. Fine. … Can you make me drunk again after?”

I snorted, shaking my head. “No, Tony. I can, but I won’t.”

“That’s just mean, Strange. What if I make it worth your while?” His fingers hooked in my waistband, and I gulped.

Don’t do it. Don’t ask. I’ll say yes if I ask and I really shouldn’t be-

“How so?”

I’m a doctor how am I this stupid-

“Well, you’d be rewarding me for my sobriety with your mouth, so surely I should return the favour.”

I can’t. I shouldn’t. I really, really shouldn’t agree to this.

“Say yes, Stephen. Let me show you what I can do,” he breathed, teeth grazing across my throat, and my eyelids flickered.

… Fuck.

“Yes.”

He growled roughly as he tore open my shirt, and I did not have the energy to care about the buttons rolling across the floor as his tongue found my chest. “Do it. Sorry for… Consequences.”

My hand found his forehead, and I sighed as I focused, gaze shifting minutely behind closed lids as I worked.

Ethanol to acetaldehyde to acetate to carbon dioxide and water.

His eyes were, admittedly, far clearer as he looked up, though ringed with nerves and fear. “… This is profoundly unpleasant.”

“Shall we stop?” I offered softly, but he shook his head, hard and insistent.

“Distract me.”

Well, if you so desire…

I dropped my hands to his belt obligingly, fumbling in anticipation, and he smirked. “Why, Doctor Strange, anyone would think you were nervous.”

“I’ve never done this before,” I quipped, gaze cutting to his.

“Shall we stop?”

Please, no. I’d sell my own immortal soul for you.

“I’m fine,” I assured him quietly, shooting him a tender smile.

“Then how about we take this somewhere more comfortable? ‘On your knees’ doesn’t have to be quite so literal, Sparkles.”

I hate that nickname, but if he says it while I fulfil every dream I’ve ever had, it’ll be my new favourite word.

“As you wish.”

He lay back with a sigh, opening an eye to look at me when I hesitated. “… Are you joining me, or are you just intending to stare at me?”

I couldn’t help the blush that rose in my cheeks – my gaze was, admittedly, tracing the hard lines of his body in quiet delight and disbelief at the situation I found myself in. “I… Yes.”

Despite my affirmation, I couldn’t help the shaking in my bones as I lay beside him, tentative and unsure. “… How do I-”

My words died when his mouth found mine, rough and eager, an entire world away from my own cautious restraint – and I loved it. His fingers tangled into the back of my hair, pulling me on top of him, legs entangled with mine. “You know, you can touch me. I won’t break,” he muttered, biting lightly at my lip and drawing a low whine from some shamefully deep place in my core. Hesitant, my fingertips brushed his hip, but he shifted into the contact, tugging my head lightly toward his throat.

And the sound he made when I bit at the curve of his jaw did nothing for my resolve for careful, tender ministrations, a soft gasp and quiet groan sending my fingers curling against his skin, his shirt quickly being shed in my desperation.

Screw hesitance. I want him.

His back arched as I make short work of his belt, the gentle rumble of his throat against my mouth spurring me on, and he snorted. “Damn, Strange, what’s got you so-”

“Off,” I snapped, unbuttoning his pants with steady fingers. The cloak fluttered helpfully, and I tipped my head, sending it to wrap obligingly around his ankles and tug slacks from his body in a swift, fluid movement.

The genius shivered, reduced to only skin-tight boxers that left very little to the imagination, and he met my gaze with a grin. “Well, that was… Hot.”

I rolled my eyes, fingers skimming his waistband as I trailed my lips down his chest insistently, glancing up for clarification when I reached the narrow strip of hair between underwear and navel. He simply nodded, swallowing dryly, letting his head fall back as I obligingly tugged down his boxers.

… Holy-

My tongue flicked tentatively over the leaking tip of him, and he shivered delicately, hands winding in my hair. “Strange, don’t you dare play with me like that. You put that mouth to enough use with your sarcasm, why don’t you show me what it can really do?”

Yes. Always. I’ll never speak again. That’s fine.

I took his length slowly, eyes flicking up to gaze in delight at the clenching of his muscles and the soft sounds of pleasure that spilled from him as his fingers clenched, guiding me gently.

Complex. Sophisticated. Smooth. Just like the man himself.

He gasped lightly as my tongue caressed his member, hips twitching forward until he brushed against the back of my throat. The motion only spurred him on, hissing, his hands harder as he encouraged me along the full length of him. “J-Jesus, Stephen…” I finally found my rhythm, working in tandem with his light thrusts, and he groaned. “Fuck, yes. J-Just like that. Just like that. Holy…”

My fingertips held his hips tightly as I desperately searched for something – anything – to ground me, my own body rolling needily against his sheets as his back arched. “Goddamn, Strange.”

I growled, drawing back briefly to shoot him a glare. “Please don’t call me that right now,” I murmured, licking the beads from his tip lightly, and he nodded quickly.

“Yup. Yeah. Got it. Stephen. Sparkles. Fuck-” I took him back between my lips eagerly, teeth lightly skimming his member, and he whimpered quietly. “Sweet baby boy, I’ll call you whatever you want, just don’t fucking stop-“

Never. Not once. I’ll spend my life here, please and thank you.

He jerked beneath me as I bobbed my head faster, fingers tugging in my hair. “Holy shit, sweetheart, I- fucking goddamn are you sure you’ve never done this before?!”

Chuckling throatily, I nodded as best I could around the pulsing length in my mouth. But I’ve thought about it. A lot. And- Wait, did he just call me ‘sweetheart’?

“Fuck, ju-just don’t stop, don’t ever, ever stop… Just like that, sweet boy. Please. Fuck.” I groaned as he cursed and writhed, begging quietly – for me – my head moving faster, desperate and needy.

“Fuck, Stephen, I- god, this is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it? M-me naked and frantic and holy shit Sparkles, just like that, I-” He moaned wantonly as he wrapped his hands in my hair enthusiastically, holding me still as his hips snapped up. “Fuck. I’m- I can’t- I’m-”

I only hummed encouragingly, thumbs lightly caressing the line between his thighs and hips, eyes meeting his as he fucked me in desperation, revelling in the deep ochre blown wide and eager.

I have never wanted anything more than this.

His back arched as he found his release, forcing himself ever deeper, to my surprise and delight, ragged groans falling from the teeth clenched around his bottom lip.

It took several minutes for his hands to unclench from my hair, twitching and whimpering desperately as I sucked him clean gently, and he caressed my cheek lightly as I finally drew away, jerking sensitively. “Fucking hell, Str- Stephen. Just… Fucking hell.”

I snorted, shifting to lay beside him as he shivered, reaching over to pull the sheets across his trembling form. “Did I… Was that okay?”

The question was mostly sarcastic and rhetorical, but I couldn’t help the soft edge of anxiety that crept into my voice, and he let out a high-pitched whine of laughter.

“It’ll certainly suffice, damn… Can we make this a daily thing? Actually, hourly? No – just – scratch that, just never, ever stop doing that. Ever,” he sighed, offering an arm to me. I curled obligingly against his chest, and he raised an eyebrow as my own arousal brushed his hip, making me blush.

“Sorry.”

“No, no – I’m glad you, uh… Had fun. I suppose I should…”

I winced as he hesitated, shaking my head quickly. “You are under no obligation, Tony.”

His lips brushed my hair in an odd display of tenderness – no doubt borne of his fatigue and climax – and he hummed thoughtfully. “I… I don’t know if I…”

“You don’t have to explain,” I offered quietly, fingers tracing a circle around his reactor lightly, the blue glow soft and comforting.

“I… Think I’d rather touch you? If that’s… Okay?”

The uncertainty and anxiety that came with his sobriety made my heart ache, and I nodded gently. “Only if you want to,” I breathed, leaning up to kiss his cheek gently.

“I do.”

“Well, by all means,” I chuckled, sighing at the promise of release as his palm found my abdomen.

“Hey, Cloak, want to help us out again?” he muttered with a chuckle, and I waved my hand pointedly, jaw twitching with arousal when I was quickly rid of my slacks. I doubt the Cloak of Levitation was ever intended to be used in this way... But I'm not complaining. “I’m endlessly glad you decided to forgo the entire wizard get-up today, Merlin. I don’t know if I could get through that damn tunic.”

“Well, after last night, I thought it best to… Uh…” The sentence died as his fingers caressed my hip, inching down one side of my underwear pointedly.

“Sh… The only words I’d like to hear from you are ‘yes’, ‘please’, ‘more’… and maybe ‘Sir’,” he added, smirking, lips claiming mine.

Yes please more Sir.

He made short work of my briefs, tossing them somewhere over his shoulder before his thumb rubbed gentle circles against my abdomen, and I hesistated, drawing back minutely. “Y-you don’t have to, Tony. You never have to do anything you-”

The words died into a moan as he gripped me, stroking slowly. “What did I say? ‘Yes’, ‘please’, ‘more’, ‘Sir’. Though I suppose I can accept a few expletives, perhaps my name if you feel the need.”

“Fuck,” I hissed, eliciting a snort.

“Oh, so the gentlemanly Doctor Strange isn’t above cursing? Interesting. I wonder what else I can make you do.”

I’d fucking beg for you - just don’t stop touching me.

I groaned, burying my face needily in his throat as the pad of his thumb flicked over my head, hips twitching. “You know, I didn’t expect you to be quite so… Well-endowed, Stephen. I’m certainly disappointed I didn’t make this discovery a very long time ago.”

“Please, more, fuck.”

He laughed lightly, pace increasing gradually. “Oh? But you’re already so desperate. I don’t know if you can last much longer if I give you more.”

“Please, please… Sir,” I gasped, fingers clenching against his ribs, and he groaned quietly.

“Oh, I definitely like that,” he muttered, fist sliding along my length faster. “My sweet little boy.”

I should be offended, insulted, but my God I just- I would do anything for this-

“Y-yes, please, please, fuck,” I whimpered, thrusting desperately against his hand. “Tony, please…”

He purred, head dropping to caress my jaw with his tongue until his lips found my ear. “You want to come for me, is that it?”

I nodded frantically as I rutted into him, muscles clenching with desire. “Please… Please.”

His hand released me, and I groaned in frustration, length pulsing with need. “Not like this," he hummed, pushing the remnants of my shirt from my shoulders and shifting to settle between my thighs.

OH. Okay. Yeah.

I opened my mouth to reinforce once again that he didn’t have to, but he met my gaze, eyebrow raised. “… Yes, Sir, please?” I offered, grinning, and he took what he could quickly, one hand on my abdomen pinning my hips as I writhed.

HolyfuckingshitTonyStarkandhismagictongue-

His name fell like a prayer as I jerked, the hand caressing my tightening testicles driving me into a mind-numbing orgasm, whimpering desperately at the feeling of his eager swallowing. I watched in wonder and adoration as his cheeks hollowed, drawing out every drop he could before he drew away, tongue darting out to brush his lip.

“Hm. Sweet as cherry pie, just like I expected.”

“Fuck,” I muttered, head falling back.

“Good boy.”

He drew my quivering, sweat damp-body closer to his under the sheets, wincing as he met my gaze. “Hi. I… Please.”

I followed the line of his jaw, the beads of sweat on his forehead, and the wide, nervous eyes with a sigh. “You know you need to stop, right?” I murmured quietly, and he grimaced.

“I’m aware.”

“Are you going to?”

“… I… Can this be enough? For now? I want to – I do. But… I’m weak. There’s so much noise, and it… It’s the only way to make it stop. Please, Stephen. If… I’ll try. But I need time, and I’m not… Ready. Not yet. Please.”

I kissed his forehead lightly, muttering quiet incantations and apologies to my soul into his skin.

Water and carbon dioxide to acetate to acetaldehyde to ethanol. …

Just… Less of it.

He sighed in relief, eyes flickering closed. “Thanks, Sparkles. … I will try. I promise.”

I watched the tension in his jaw release, wincing minutely. “I know, Tony.”

Please. I deeply detest that I just did that, even if it did provide you with relief.

"I meant what I said, you know," he murmured without looking at me, and I hummed curiously as my head found his shoulder. "... I don't... I want to wake up without you. Not just... After this."

Despite the alcohol once more flowing through his system - albiet at a lower quantity - his cheeks still coloured lightly, and I smiled as I pressed a gentle kiss to his salted skin. "Sure, Tony. You got it."

"...Every morning?"

His quiet voice was almost shameful, and I felt my heart clench sympathetically at his hatred of his own desires. "Every one."

[cheriktism]

“ INTRODUCTION ”

MICAH or VINCENT　⠀╱⠀⠀ he it

eighteen⠀⠀┈⠀⠀ german system⠀Ꮺ

dni: basic dni criteria, xeno/neo antis, anti furry/therians etc, pro/com/darkshippers, maps/zoophiles etc, non traumagenic systems (includes supporters/people neutral about this), trump supporters, in general fascists, people who romanticize disorders, people who support/are transracial, terfs, people who think he/him and transmasc lesbians aren't a thing (disclaimer: transMASC people are NOT necessarily men. i do not believe men can be lesbians), transmeds, anti-recovery, people who are strightly against final fusion OR functional plurality (both are valid choices), fakeclaimers obv., ableists, zionists

NOTE: this list is not limited to these things, there might be things i forgot here and i block freely. if anything on this dni list makes you mad then leave, don't waste my time with arguments.

byi: please use tone tags for things like sarcasm/jokes/anything that the tone might be hard to understand with. this is to prevent misunderstandings, i will NOT disclose details about anything regarding my mental issues/disabilities/other private things. this includes talk about the system. i will not answer questions about it, you can DM me but do not feel offended if i don't respond or don't want to talk to you, this blog will contain nsfw sometimes. i will put warnings, if i see any minors int with those posts you're blocked, don't dm me if you're younger than 16 or older than 30. you can interact but don't dm me or ask for my other socials

more about me!!

heyo, you can call me micah or vincent, rotten dolls or doll is okay too. i'm 18 and from germany so english is not my first language. i'm fine with whatever pronouns apart from she/her or shx/hxr, my favorites are he/it. ask for more i like. i will not be like super active here, since i have a low social battery and have work on most days apart from weekends. you can ask for my discord or dm me here if you want, but don't feel offended if i don't answer. also, you might see this post mentions that i have DID, so some alter will use 'we' and 'us'. however, there will be no to rare system talk, don't ask about it unless stated it's okay. i'm not interested in system discourse on here either, so please respect this. i also LOVE making rentries, if you want to see any of the ones i made, feel free to ask in DMs, since i don't really want to post them here

current main interests: ghost (band), phasmophobia, insym, marvel (especially x-men, winter soldier & spider-man), sleep token, jjk, bnha/mha, bsd, star wars, hannibal, banana fish, sherlock, arcane, hello charlotte

likes/interests: space, horror games, will wood, rock music (eg. skillet, bmth, slipknot, ghost, linkin park, powerwolf...), history, politics, physics, informatics, books/reading, mitski, jazmin bean, babybugs

other fandoms/interests: doctor who, attack on titan, good omens, fnaf, markiplier, fantastic beasts, genshin impact

fav characters from some media:

marvel

- iron man / tony stark

- peter parker / spider-man (all actors)

- charles xavier / professor x (movies)

- natasha romanoff / black widow

- loki

- bucky barnes & winter soldier

- clint barton / hawkeye

- sam wilson / falcon / captain america

- logan howlett / wolverine

bungo stray dogs

- oda sakunosuke

- chuuya nakahara

- nikolai gogol

- lucy montgomery

- ryunosuke akutagawa

- atsushi nakajima

- akiko yosano

- edgar allan poe

my hero academia

- tomura shigaraki

- dabi

- hawks

- himiko toga

- spinner

- mirko

- ochako

- aizawa

- shoto todoroki

jujutsu kaisen

- shoko irei

- gojo satoru

- toji fushiguro

- yuji itadori

- miwa

- megumi fushiguro

- maki zenin

- uraume

arcane

- viktor

- ekko

- jinx

- sevika

- mel

- vander

hello charlotte

- charles eyler

- charlotte wiltshire

- bennett

- vincent

- frei

favorite ships from some media:

marvel

- cherik

- pepperony

- stucky

- winterfalcon

- lokius

- peter and mj (tom holland)

bungo stray dogs

- shin soukoku

- soukoku

- kunizai

- sigzai

- fyozai

- ranpoe

- fyolai

- doa trio

- perfect crime trio

- odango

- rimlaine

my hero academia

- togachako

- spinneraki

- todobakudeku

- momojirou

- erasermic

jjk

- satosugu

- itafushi

- sukume

arcane

- jayvik

- caitvi

- timebomb

other fandoms/media

- asheiji

- johnlock

- hannigram

- aziracrow

- harry x ron x hermione (this is underrated imo)

- sherliam (moriarty the patriot)

- thoschei

- wriollette

- kazuscara

- jeanlisa

- cynari

- kaebedo

and more!!

NOTE: If these ships make you angry, just block me. I don't care what you ship as long as it's legal and not super weird, respect my opinions i'll respect yours too. Don't be weird!

[superdanverstrio]

AI MADE

A/N: this is just stories that AI made and i thought were pretty good

I used VEED.IO script generator if anyone wants to know

Last story hadded: 10 august

poison

the request: Reader gets poison during Tony Stark party, she faint Infront of all the avengers, they are all worried about her especially her girlfriend natasha Romanoff

INT. TONY STARK'S LUXURIOUS PENTHOUSE - NIGHT

I find myself in the midst of the most extravagant party I've ever attended. The room is filled with A-list celebrities, politicians, and, of course, the Avengers. Tony Stark knows how to throw a party, and tonight, he's outdone himself. The energy in the room is electric, a cacophony of laughter and awe-inspiring conversations.

I spot Natasha Romanoff, my beautiful girlfriend, across the room. She stands out among the crowd with her elegance and grace. I make my way through the sea of people, eager to reach her side.

As I approach Natasha, I can't help but notice her concerned expression. She takes my hand, her touch reassuring.

NATASHA ROMANOFF (whispering) Are you feeling okay, love? You don't look too well.

I try to brush off her concerns, not wanting to dampen the mood of this incredible event.

ME (smiling weakly) I'm fine, just a bit tired. Must be the excitement of the party.

But as I continue talking, a sudden wave of dizziness crashes over me. The room starts spinning, and I fight to maintain my balance. Panic sets in, and I grab onto Natasha for support.

NATASHA ROMANOFF (concerned) What's happening? Steve! Tony! Help!

The Avengers, with their enhanced senses, immediately notice my distress.

Steve Rogers and Tony Stark rush to my side, concern etched on their faces.

STEVE ROGERS (supportive) Hang in there. We'll get you some help.

As I struggle to stay upright, Natasha calls for medical assistance.

The room falls into a stunned silence as everyone begins to take notice of the commotion. The Avengers surround me, forming a protective circle.

Tony signals for the music to stop, and all eyes turn towards us. The world's mightiest heroes are gathered around a person in need, and the atmosphere in the room changes from one of celebration to genuine concern.

NATASHA ROMANOFF (teary-eyed) Please, somebody, help us!

In the midst of the chaos, I can see the worry in their eyes.

Thor clenches his fists, his strong yet gentle presence giving me hope.

Bruce Banner tries to keep calm, even though I can see his concern bubbling beneath the surface.

Seconds feel like hours as medical personnel finally arrive, rushing to my aid. Natasha refuses to let go of my hand, and the Avengers stand together, ready to fight for me.

VISION (reassuring) Fear not, my friends. Together, we can overcome any challenge. As the medical team treats me, the Avengers stand vigil, refusing to leave my side. Their unity and unwavering support bring tears to my eyes.

From Tony Stark's extravagant party to this unexpected turn of events, the night has taken an unexpected turn. But amidst the chaos, one thing is clear: the bond between the Avengers goes far beyond their superhuman abilities. They are a family, ready to protect and care for each other.

FADE OUT.

kidnapped

the request: reader gets kidnapped and the avengers does there best to find her and when they do find her in the villian's lair she is badly injured and everyone is worried about her espacially her girlfriend natasha romanoff

Title: "The Rescue Mission"

[INTRO]

[Scene: Living room in the Avengers' headquarters. Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Bruce Banner, and Natasha Romanoff are gathered around a table, looking worried.]

Tony Stark: Okay, team, I just received a distress call. Our friend and teammate, [Reader's name], has been kidnapped by some evil villain.

Steve Rogers: What? We need to save them!

Bruce Banner: We have to act fast. Any idea where they could be?

Natasha Romanoff: (Looking concerned) I've been working on it. The villain's lair is hidden, but I managed to trace some electronic signatures near an abandoned warehouse.

Thor: Fear not, my friends, for we shall bring [Reader's name] back safely!

[TRANSITION]

[Scene: The Avengers assembling in their iconic outfits, ready for action.]

Tony Stark: (Putting on his Iron Man suit) Time for some heroics!

Steve Rogers: (Equipping his shield) Let's bring [Reader's name] home.

Bruce Banner: (Transforming into the Hulk) Hulk is ready.

Natasha Romanoff: (Checking her weapons) We'll save them no matter what it takes.

Thor: (Holding Mjolnir) By the might of Asgard, we shall prevail!

[TRANSITION]

[Scene: The villain's lair, a dark and eerie place. The Avengers fight through henchmen, showcasing their individual powers and teamwork.]

Tony Stark: (Using repulsor beams) Take that!

Steve Rogers: (Dodge and throwing his shield) No one stands in our way!

Bruce Banner: (Smashing through obstacles as the Hulk) Hulk smash!

Natasha Romanoff: (Displaying impressive combat skills) You picked the wrong team to mess with.

Thor: (Summoning lightning, striking enemies down) The power of thunder belongs to me!

[TRANSITION]

[Scene: The Avengers locate [Reader's name] in a dimly lit room, severely injured.]

Steve Rogers: (Rushing over) Oh my God, [Reader's name]!

Tony Stark: (Looking concerned) We need to get them out of here. Bruce, can you assist?

Bruce Banner: (Reverting to his human form) Of course, let me get my first aid kit.

Natasha Romanoff: (Tenderly holding [Reader's name]'s hand) Hang in there, sweetheart. We're getting you home.

[TRANSITION]

[Scene: Avengers' headquarters, [Reader's name] is lying on a medical bed surrounded by the team.]

Tony Stark: The medical team is doing everything they can. They'll be okay.

Steve Rogers: We need some good news. I can't stand seeing them hurt like this.

Natasha Romanoff: (Holding back tears) I can't imagine my life without them. We have to stay strong.

Bruce Banner: They're strong, and they'll make it through this. We just need to be there for them.

Thor: (Placing a hand on Natasha's shoulder) Together, we shall help them recover, and they shall know the love of their family.

[CONCLUSION]

[Scene: Avengers' headquarters, a few days later. The team is gathered around [Reader's name]'s bed, watching them wake up.]

Tony Stark: Welcome back, slugger. We missed you.

Steve Rogers: We were so worried. Never scare us like that again, okay?

Natasha Romanoff: (Gently squeezing their hand) Don't ever leave my side, please.

[Reader's name]: (Weakly smiling) I love you all. Thank you for saving me.

[Scene fades out with the Avengers smiling, relieved that [Reader's name] is safe.]

[OUTRO]

[Closing shot: Avengers' logo with "To be continued..." written underneath] [END]

hidden injury

the request: the reader gets hurt during on of the avengers mission she hides it so she doesnt worry anyone. some how the wound the reader got is infected and at one of tony's party she passes out because of it

Title: The Hidden Wound

INT. AVENGERS HEADQUARTERS - LIVING ROOM - DAY

I'm sitting in the living room of the Avengers headquarters, surrounded by my teammates. We're all celebrating another successful mission. Everyone is laughing and sharing stories, but I'm struggling to keep up the facade.

You see, during our last mission, I got hurt pretty bad. But I didn't want to worry anyone, so I decided to keep it to myself.

FLASHBACK: INT. ABANDONED WAREHOUSE - NIGHT

I'm fighting alongside the Avengers, giving it my all. In the chaos, I take a blow that sends me crashing into a pile of debris. I feel a sharp pain in my side but quickly regain my composure and pretend everything is fine.

BACK TO PRESENT: INT. AVENGERS HEADQUARTERS - LIVING ROOM - DAY

As I reminisce about that fateful mission, I feel a burning sensation in my side. It's been weeks since the injury, and it seemed to be healing fine. But something isn't right.

The pain intensifies, and I try my best to hide my discomfort.

TONY, with a glass of champagne in hand, spots me from across the room.

TONY: Hey there, [Reader's Name], why do you look like you've seen a ghost?

I force a smile, trying to downplay my growing agony.

READER: Oh, Tony, you know me. Just lost in my thoughts.

TONY: Well, snap out of it! It's party time! Let's enjoy ourselves!

INT. AVENGERS HEADQUARTERS - PARTY ROOM - NIGHT

The room is filled with dazzling lights, music, and laughter. It's one of Tony's legendary parties. But as the night wears on, I can no longer ignore the pain. The room starts to spin, and my knees feel like jelly.

INT. AVENGERS HEADQUARTERS - PARTY ROOM - NIGHT - LATER

I stumble towards a wall, trying to steady myself. The pain becomes unbearable, and everything goes black.

INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - DAY

I wake up in a sterile hospital room, surrounded by familiar faces - my fellow Avengers, worried sick.

STEVE, dressed in his Captain America suit, steps forward.

STEVE: You scared us, [Reader's Name]. Why didn't you tell us about your injury?

I sheepishly look down, feeling guilty for keeping my pain hidden.

READER: I didn't want to be a burden, or worry any of you. I thought it would heal on its own.

TONY, leaning against the wall with crossed arms, chimes in.

TONY: Sometimes we need to rely on each other, even when we're superheroes. You're part of this team, and that means we're here for you.

NATASHA, the Black Widow, nods in agreement.

NATASHA: So next time, let us know when you're hurt. Besides, healing is what we do best.

Everyone smiles, reassured that our bond as Avengers is unbreakable.

INT. AVENGERS HEADQUARTERS - LIVING ROOM - DAY - WEEKS LATER

I'm back in the living room, but this time, I'm surrounded by my teammates as we share stories from our latest mission. This time, I'm not hiding any pain or discomfort. We've all learned the importance of open communication and relying on one another. As I join in on the laughter, I can't help but feel grateful for being part of this extraordinary team. The Avengers have become my second family, teaching me that we're stronger when we support each other, both on and off the battlefield. FADE OUT.

second story

INT. AVENGERS HEADQUARTERS - LIVING ROOM - DAY

[Camera pans across Avengers gathered in the living room, chatting and laughing. I, the reader, am sitting on the couch, trying to hide the discomfort caused by a recent injury.]

INT. AVENGERS HEADQUARTERS - KITCHEN - LATER

[Camera switches to the kitchen, where I'm rummaging through the medicine cabinet. Tony Stark enters, holding a glass of champagne.]

TONY STARK

Hey, [Reader], everything okay? You seem a little off today.

I force a smile, attempting to downplay my situation.

ME

Yeah, Tony, I'm fine. Just a little sore from the last mission, that's all.

Tony's eyes narrow, clearly unconvinced, but he decides not to push further.

TONY STARK

Alright, if you say so. But do me a favor and take it easy tonight, alright? We've all earned a break.

INT. AVENGERS HEADQUARTERS - PARTY AREA - NIGHT

[Camera transitions to the party area, filled with Avengers and various guests. Music is blaring, and everyone is enjoying themselves. I stand by the bar, nursing a non-alcoholic drink.]

STEVE ROGERS

(leaning over from the bar) Hey, [Reader], why aren't you joining us for a drink?

ME

(smiling weakly) Not feeling it tonight, Steve. Got a lot on my mind.

Steve looks concerned but respects my privacy.

STEVE ROGERS

Alright, just remember we're here for you if you need anything.

INT. AVENGERS HEADQUARTERS - PARTY AREA - LATER

[Camera shows me sitting on a couch, looking increasingly fatigued. I try to hide my discomfort from the partygoers.]

NATASHA ROMANOFF

(coming over, worried) [Reader], you don't look so good. Are you sure you're okay?

I muster a smile, but it's evident that I'm struggling to keep up appearances.

ME

I'm fine, Nat. Just a little tired. It's been a long day.

Natasha shoots a concerned glance at Tony, who approaches us.

TONY STARK

Hey, [Reader], I think it's time we had a little chat. You're not acting like yourself tonight.

ME

(trying to play it off) Really, Tony, I'm just worn out. No need to worry.

Tony studies me for a moment, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and determination.

TONY STARK

Listen, I'm not buying it. Something's definitely wrong. Come on, let's get you checked out.

INT. AVENGERS HEADQUARTERS - MEDICAL BAY - NIGHT

[Camera shows me lying on a medical table while Tony examines my wound.]

TONY STARK

Damn, this wound looks worse than I thought. How did you manage to hide it from all of us?

ME

(voice trembling) I didn't want to worry anyone. I figured it would heal on its own.

Tony shakes his head, disappointed but understanding.

TONY STARK

You know, we're a team, [Reader]. That means we watch out for each other. Hiding an infection like this is dangerous.

INT. AVENGERS HEADQUARTERS - MEDICAL BAY - LATER

[Camera shows me lying in a bed, hooked up to an intravenous drip. The other Avengers gather around, looking concerned.]

STEVE ROGERS

You should have told us, [Reader]. We're here to support you, especially in times like this.

I tear up, overwhelmed by their care and concern.

ME

I... I'm sorry. I didn't want to burden anyone.

NATASHA ROMANOFF

You're not burdening us. We're family, remember? Let's make sure you get the rest you need now.

The Avengers exchange understanding glances, determined to take care of me.

INT. AVENGERS HEADQUARTERS - MEDICAL BAY - DAY

[Camera fades out, then fades back in, showing a montage of me recovering with the support of the Avengers. They bring me meals, check on me, and even a few funny moments that make me laugh.]

INT. AVENGERS HEADQUARTERS - MEDICAL BAY - NIGHT

[Camera shows Tony entering the medical bay, holding a tray with a piece of cake.]

TONY STARK

Hey, [Reader], thought you might need some cheering up. It's your favorite, chocolate cake.

I smile gratefully, touched by their unwavering support.

ME

Thank you, Tony. And thank all of you, for everything.

[Camera zooms out, revealing the Avengers gathered around my bed, offering me encouragement and support.] FADE OUT.

stabbed

the request: reader is on her way to her apartment when she gets stab with a poisoned knife she gathers all her strength to walk to her girlfriend Natasha romanoff's house but she passes out on her doorstep *no narrator

Title: Fight for Survival

[Introduction]

[Scene: Exterior - Busy city streets in the evening]

I'm walking home after a long day, feeling tired but looking forward to seeing my girlfriend, Natasha Romanoff. Little did I know that this walk would turn into a fight for survival.

[Scene: A dark alley - The protagonist walks alone]

As I turn into a dimly lit alley, my heart starts to race. It feels as if someone is watching me. I try to dismiss my fears as paranoia. But suddenly, out of nowhere, a tall shadowy figure appears, lunging at me with a knife.

[Scene: Protagonist's reaction and struggle]

I'm caught off guard, and the knife plunges into my side. Pain surges through my body, and I realize this is no ordinary attack. The blade must be poisoned. I stumble backward, clutching my side, desperate to escape.

[Scene: Protagonist's determination]

Summoning every ounce of strength I have left, I gather my wits and decide to make my way to Natasha's house. She's skilled in combat and knows how to handle dangerous situations. I know she can help me.

[Scene: An exhausting journey]

Each step becomes a struggle as the poison courses through my veins. The world starts to spin around me, and I fight to stay upright. The path to Natasha's house feels like an eternity, but I refuse to give up.

[Scene: Natasha's house - Protagonist's final efforts]

Finally, I reach Natasha's doorstep, but my vision blurs, and my legs give way. I collapse, barely conscious, hoping Natasha will find me before it's too late.

[Scene: Natasha's shock and urgency]

Natasha, with her sharp instincts, senses something is wrong as she arrives home. She opens the door to find me lying unconscious on her doorstep, blood staining my clothes. Panic floods her face as she rushes to my side.

[Scene: Natasha comes up with a plan]

Natasha quickly assesses the situation, realizing the severity of my condition. She knows time is of the essence. She grabs her phone, dialing the emergency services while also reaching out to her allies for assistance.

[Scene: A race against time]

While waiting for help to arrive, Natasha does everything she can to stabilize me. She administers first aid and uses her extensive training to counteract the effects of the poison. With a mask of determination, she refuses to lose me.

[Scene: Paramedics arrive]

The sound of sirens fills the air as the paramedics rush to our aid. Natasha lets out a sigh of relief, knowing that help has finally arrived. The paramedics take over and rush to stabilize me before rushing me to the hospital.

[Scene: Epilogue]

Days later, I wake up in a hospital bed, weak but alive. Natasha is sitting by my side, her eyes filled with love and relief. We share a moment, grateful for each other and the second chance we've been given.

[Closing Shot]

[Scene: Hospital room - Protagonist and Natasha holding hands]

As we intertwine our fingers, I realize how lucky I am to have Natasha by my side. This harrowing experience has only strengthened our bond, reminding us of the power of love and determination in overcoming life's greatest challenges.

[End]

[therealslimstrider]

hc + community!

dirk is the primary reason anyone on earth c has a house/income as theyre low key about being gods (and earth c is a near duplicate of earth with some convenient differences that make it easier to explain away weirdness) he is like. the tony stark of the team (nobody tell him that)

the dude just Finds Ways to make money but especially with how the internet the past 10 years has just been Make Money Do Scams thats. shit dirk was born to do

he makes disgusting amounts but to be fair he has to support 11 people with his income; they ofc have actual jobs but damn what does that get you int his day and age

despite how aloof and insecure he is hes a treasured member of the team and everyone appreciates how much effort he puts in for them (though they wish he would take more breaks and be kinder to himself; and some levels of understandable mistrust)

in terms of his actual community he waits for his neighbor to go down the stairs before he leaves his own apartment so he doesnt have to make eye contact with another human being. if the doordash driver knocks he withers like a beautiful rose

[lilyevanstan1325]

❤️ Still Falling For You ❤️

Chapter 2

Nora POV

“Miss Stark it's time to get up.Miss Stark?"

The gentle but authoritarian voice of mama Lupe wakes me up from my dream leaving a strange feeling on me.

I think I had a beautiful dream, like those dreams that you feel were beautiful but as soon as you open your eyes you cannot remember and you are left with a strange bitter taste in your mouth.

And that's exactly what's happening to me.

I know the dream was pleasant but I just can't remember what I was dreaming about...the only thing I remember is that there were a pair of deep blue eyes staring at me as if I were a Venus.

I roll on my stomach, moaning slightly irritated.

Now I'll just think about this dream and I'll just feel irritated because I don't remember it.

Mama Lupe opens the doors of the large window in my room, pulling back the heavy white and gold brocade curtains to let in the first rays of the sun.

Light that obviously beats heavily on my face forcing me to carry the pillow on my head.

"Get up miss.Your parents are already in the kitchen.You know they both want you downstairs so they can say hello before they leave so you have to hurry.I'm going to wake up your brother Peter”

The voice of my sweet nanny comes muffled because of the pillow that covers my head.

God I just don't want to get up and above all I absolutely don't want to see my parents.

“Tell them I'm sick.Or that I'm dead.I don't care and I'm sure they won't care either" I murmur annoyed.

I narrow my eyes trying to remember for the last time what or rather who I was dreaming, I try hard but suddenly the sunlight returns to hit me straight in the face, distracting me from my thoughts.

Mama Lupe pulled the pillow off my head and literally ripped the covers off me.

"Oh c’mon mamacita!" I grumble going back to lie down on my back and putting my arm over my face.

I peek under it and right next to my bed mama Lupe is watching me with a raised eyebrow and her hands on her hips, in her usual pose that indicates that she is about to scold me.

I pull my arm away from my face and stop for a moment to look at the woman in front of me.

Maria Lupe Ruiz, for all of us mama Lupe, has been working for the Stark family since time immemorial.

She comes from Spain, she arrived in America about fifty years ago and she was immediately hired by my grandmother Maria so that my father would have a figure next to him to help him in everyday life.

Grandma Maria and Grandpa Howard have always been too busy to take care of their only child so mama Lupe has become more than just a nanny for my father over time.

She was his one and only point of reference in his whole life, she became such an important part of his life that although my father was already grown up he never allowed Lupe to be fired so she transformed in the house maid.

Mama Lupe cooked and did laundry, cleaned the house and, if necessary, she also did small maintenance jobs.

She was the one running the cabin.

On the sudden death of my grandparents, my father became morbidly attached to Lupe and despite Tony being now a man of twenty she became his lovely nanny again.

She has been with him every single moment.

She was there holding his hand on the day of the Starks' funeral.

She was there when my father felt he couldn't make it.

She accompanied him to the altar when on a spring day twenty years ago he married Virginia Potts, whom he nicknamed Pepper, the daughter of a simple postman and an elementary school teacher.

She was there next to him when I was born and the same happened seven years ago with the birth of my brother Peter.

So mama Lupe is not just a maid, she is part of the family.

And although I am now grown up always makes me happy to receive her sweet attention.

She is the only one who has ever shown me a shred of love in this family.

Before Peter's birth I had no one but her, she was my only family.

“Eleanor, mi querida, they are your parents” Mama Lupe says softly.

I snort interrupting her.

She looks at me intently as she moves her time-stamped hands from her hips and slowly crosses her arms in front of her generous breasts.

"Don't look at me like this.You know” I tell her with a hard voice.

I get up and sit down while my feet touch the polished floor entirely made of refined Carrara marble.

Mama Lupe sighs but I cut her off even before she can speak.

“It's all like an endless loop mama.You've seen my grandparents do it and now he, he and my mom are doing it to me.To Peter” I hiss in anger.

This is really the only thing I will never be able to understand.

According to mama Lupe, my father suffered terribly from the lack of attention and love from his parents.

Yet here we are!

With him acting exactly like them.

And I can't get over it.

When I find myself fantasizing about my future I always hope that one day to my children I will be everything that Tony and Pepper Stark were not to me.

I could never make this torture pass to my flesh and blood.

Yet they succeed and do it with the total absence of guilt.

My father is always too busy between trials and meetings with wealthy men.

My mother, on the other hand, is always too busy chasing the latest fashion or going around clubs to have party with her friends.

Too busy living their lives to think about their children.

I've blamed myself for years, thinking it was my fault they didn't love me enough.

I blamed myself for never being enough…but then over time I realized that the fault was never mine and so all my pain turned to anger.

I grew up alone, with no love from people who are supposed to love me more than anything else in the world.

Yeah I have mama Lupe but basically I just wanted what all the other children had.

The love of mom and dad.

But if I have resigned myself over time, there is still another thing that tears my soul apart.

Seeing Peter that day after day realizes that his parents don't love him as they should.

Sometimes he asks me why mom and dad never spend time with us and why when they do it's always so cold.

And I punctually find myself forced to give him all the bullshit that mama Lupe has told me over the years.

They are too busy.

They do it for us.

When you grow up you will understand.

Yeah, I understand.

I understand that they don't love me.

Easy.

And lying to Peter is one of the things I hate most in the world but how can I tell a seven year old that mom and dad prefer money, success, power to him?

I've been there before him in all of this and it sucks.

You feel guilty about something you have no control over.

And that's why the first moment my eyes landed on my sweet little brother, I made a promise to myself.

Although I was just eleven, I promised myself that I would love him with all my heart and that I would do everything to make him feel loved.

Not to make him feel alone.

I want Peter when he grows up and looks back he will think I was loved, at least one member of my family loved me with all her heart.

And this thing I will never be able to say.

My parents don't love me.

I am just yet another trophy to show off.

The model daughter, with good grades in school.

I'm just that.

I'm just Tony Stark's heir.

Nothing more.

Mama Lupe's gaze softens and her deep black eyes stare at me full of sadness.

She knows the truth but in her heart she still hopes that deep inside the megalomaniac lawyer Stark is still hiding the little Anthony whom she loved and raised.

“You know what your parents are like, they may seem cold but they love you.In their own way but they love you” she whispers trying to reassure me with a smile.

I refrain from rolling my eyes, I don't want to offend the only person who has filled me with love in these almost eighteen years of life.

I nod.

I avoid speaking because at this moment only bad words would come out of my mouth.

Mama Lupe smiles at me again as she walks out of my room to Peter's.

I shake my head disconsolately.

My parents love me...what great bullshit.

The only thing my mother loves is money and maybe my father.

My father, on the other hand, only loves work, he loves the power that comes with it.

I get up and go to the bathroom in my room.

I pause for a moment in front of the mirror and trying to clear my mind of any bad vibes I start brushing my teeth.

As I look at my reflection in the mirror, a thought suddenly strikes me, causing a smile to appear on my face that goes from ear to ear.

Today is Thursday, which means I'm spending my lunch break with Barnes.

For the past two weeks we have seen each other in the same place and at the same time every Tuesday and Thursday.

I bring lunch and he helps me with math.

And I must admit that in two weeks I have learned more than I could ever hope for.

Of course it often happens that he has to repeat the same concept over and over again but he never loses patience with me and always with a smile on his lips he manages to help me.

And his eyes...

God his eyes are always so kind.

So beautiful.

I love looking at his profile while he's talking or eating or reading.

I sigh aware of what is happening to me.

I think I have a crush on James Barnes.

But I honestly can't figure out if I could interest him in this way.

Barnes never seems to have ever shown any interest in anyone so I have no idea how is his ideal type of girl.

For my part, I tried to flirt with him a little but without success because in addition to being denied in this, the maximum response I receive from him are weak and embarrassed smiles.

I have an idea that has been in my head for a few days but I have not the faintest idea how to tell him.

And above all, I don't know if it's a good idea after all.

I sigh shaking my head.

I rinse my face and then go back to the room.

I grab the clothes I prepared last night and put them on without thinking too much, then I put on my shoes and take a last look in the mirror.

For today I chose a cream-colored knit dress, long up to mid-calf with two deep side slits and at the foot I am wearing my beloved white Converse All Star.

I chose this dress because it enhances my soft shapes.

And above all, I chose it hoping to impress a certain person.

Oh my God am I really that pathetic?

I fix my hair with my hands one last time and then I grab my backpack and put in it the camera and the books that I will need for today's lessons, then I grab my brown teddy coat from the closet and get off ran up the stairs.

The rubber of my shoes creaks on the polished marble floors, attracting the attention of the person in front of me.

Right in the middle of the staircase is my little brother who has turned towards me, smiling at me radiantly.

He is lovely wrapped in his little school uniform.

My heart melts and I approach him to be able to take him in my arms.

His arms immediately wrap around my neck and his lips rest softly on my cheek.

"Morning Nora" he yawns placing his cheek on my shoulder, his sweet breath caressing the skin of my neck.

“Good morning to you too Pete.Are you still tired?"

Peter nods, snuggling even more into my arms.

And so with my backpack on my shoulder and my little brother tight in my arms I reach the kitchen.

In the center of the room there is a huge antique oak table.

My father is sitting at the head of the table in his usual super expensive suit reading The Wall Street Journal and sipping his strictly bitter coffee.

At his left side is my mother, already very elegant in her immaculate white suit, she is sitting elegantly with her legs crossed and at her feet a pair of exaggerated heels stand out.

I get dizzy with it just looking at them.

And she too, like my father, is intent on reading but her reading is nothing more than one of those stupid gossip magazines.

Mama Lupe is focused on sautéing something, something I suppose is our breakfast.

"Good morning" I murmur trying to keep a cheerful tone, I'm not going to let my parents ruin my mood, not this morning.

I'll see Barnes today, the rest doesn't matter.

My father looks up at me looking over the frame of his whimsical glasses.

I approach the table making Peter sit in his place and leaving a kiss between his tidy dark hair.

“Good morning Eleanor.Good morning Peter” my father replies with a half smile.

Peter turns to him, in his eyes you can see the desire to receive the attention of his father.

"Hi daddy" he chirps back but our father has already brought his attention back to his finance magazine.

Peter's smile fades from his face as he looks down at his hands resting on the table.

My jaw stiffens.

I swear I'm holding back with all my strength from yelling at these soulless parents.

As I make my way to my seat at the big table my mother deigns to take her gaze from the magazine she holds in her hands, placing it on me.

And in the time of a blink of her eye, her smile drops from her face.

“Oh Eleanor!How did you put on?" she asks me shaking her head disconsolately.

Peter turns his attention away from his hands to turn it to our mother.

Pepper very rarely turns to Peter.

Her main purpose is to make my life hell by belittling me every time she gets the chance.

I look down for a moment to observe my clothing.

Where was I wrong this time?

Yet I wear a dress, which I rarely do.

"What?" I ask disoriented.

"What are those?" she gasps almost in disgust, pointing to my feet.

I observe her by raising an eyebrow.

"They are shoes" I reply almost bored.

"Eleanor don't use sarcasm with your mother" my father scolds me without even taking his eyes off that damned newspaper.

I sit down aware that there will be yet another discussion this morning.

“It's not sarcasm.I simply answered her question" I answer by placing a fine linen napkin on my legs, I really wouldn't want a few drops of maple syrup to stain my dress forcing me to have to rack my brains to choose a new dress.

“You know what I mean Eleanor.Why don't you dress a little more appropriately?" my mother asks me shaking her head discouraged.

“Mom is school.It's not Milano Fashion Week" I mutter as I grab the crystal jug with the orange juice and pour a generous dose into my glass.

"I know it's school but you could dress more suited to your status"

Mama Lupe meanwhile approaches me putting three pancakes on my plate.

"No Lupe, take one off" orders my mother gesturing towards my plate.

Reluctantly I watch Mama Lupe take a pancake off my plate.

I love so much her pancakes.

Her mortified eyes turn to mine and I gently shake my head to let her know that everything is fine, that it is not her fault.

If there is one thing that haunts my mother more than fashion or plastic surgery, it is physical fitness.

Pepper is almost fifty years old and yet her physique looks like that of a twenty-five year old.

Every day she trains for about two hours with Juan, a 24-year-old personal trainer full of muscles and with a bright smile.

For my mother, appearing is all that matters.

I look down at my plate biting my tongue until I taste the taste of my own blood, I don't want to start a discussion that will eventually end with her humiliating me for the umpteenth time.

I feel Peter's eyes on me, even if he is a little boy he can perfectly perceive the tension that has arisen so to avoid him worrying more I turn my head towards him and blatantly roll my eyes making a face.

He chuckles, attracting the attention of my father who, after having drunk the last sip of coffee, places the newspaper on the table and stands up.

Peter follows his every move closely.

"This morning I have a business meeting near your school Peter, would you like if you come with me in the car today instead of taking the bus?"

At his words, my brother snaps like a spring and puts the last half pancake in his mouth, almost threatening to choke.

My father smiles.

A genuine smile that appears very rarely on his lips and the few times it happens is when Peter is involved.

Although he never lets himself go to great displays of affection, Peter seems to be the only one who manages to break through his heart.

My mother looks in disgust on Peter, her own son.

"What manners are these Peter?" she scolds him with a sharp look.

Peter swallows the pancake apologizing in a whisper but forgetting it shortly after because he is too excited at the idea of spending a few more moments with his dad.

Our father strokes his head and then holds out his hand, Peter grabs it with a toothy grin and so, holding hands, they leave the kitchen.

I smile happily.

Even though it's too late for me to love him or to be loved, I'm glad Peter has these little moments of happiness.

Mama Lupe says goodbye and she go upstairs to clean the rooms so the Ice Queen and I are left alone.

“You know I was serious earlier Eleanor” my mother suddenly says.

I stiffen.

I'm not ready to argue with her, I just want to get up and get out of this damn house.

I ignore her trying to finish my breakfast as quickly as possible.

“Don't ignore me Eleanor Maria”

I hate it when she uses my full name.

"I'm not ignoring you mom" I reply, finally looking into her eyes.

My mother is really beautiful.

She has long blond hair and skin that appears to be made of porcelain.

Her big blue eyes are capable of hypnotizing you.

But if outside her the features seem those of an angel, inside her resides a coldness and a wickedness that would make Satan envy.

She is always ready to judge everything and everyone from the top of her status.

God what a disgusting word.

As if money or power could define a person.

More money equals better person.

Fortunately, this is not the case, not for me.

"Eleanor you are almost eighteen years old and you are one of the most important heiresses in America, don't you think you should start bringing honor to your name?And maybe you could start looking around” she chirps in a sweet voice.

"Look around?" I ask confused.

"Yes sweetie.Start looking for someone who could support you in life”

Without being able to restrain myself I burst out laughing, I laugh until I have tears in my eyes.

“Mom, I'm almost eighteen, not thirty-eight.I don't think it's time” I reply shaking my head.

Instead she continues to look at me more serious than ever.

"I was your age when I met your father" she hisses almost offended.

I roll my eyes getting up and wearing my coat with quick gestures.

"I'll take care of the men when the time comes" I repeat walking towards the door.

“And when will the time be?When you are thirty and your physique will not something to be desired?"

I stop at her words.

She can't have said it seriously.

As if my highest aspiration is to be loved for my body or my bank account.

I remain motionless without being able to move, unable to speak.

Her heels click behind me until she reaches me and stops behind me.

I slowly turn towards her and we remain to observe each other for a few moments.

There is no loving gaze between us, no mother and daughter.

We look like two perfect strangers.

I often wonder why she had children.

Maybe she did it only because society imposed it on her.

“Eleanor behaving like this and with your stupid libertine ideas you will never do anything good in life.You are safe only because you are a Stark and you already have a future otherwise you would be just a little failed dreamer” she hisses furiously.

I feel the blood boil in my veins and my heart starts pumping furiously in my chest.

"Sorry?" I ask outside of myself giving her a chance to take back what she just said.

She smiles slightly shaking her head.

“Your dreams will get you nowhere.Your art, your photos will be of no use to you.Get your head right honey, becomes a great lawyer and marries a wealthy man.Only in this way can you feel truly fulfilled"

I look at her with eyes wide open with disbelief.

I stare at her perfect features of her looking for a small flaw, a small hint of some expression that can make me understand that she is not really serious.

She can't be.

I feel the tears stinging my eyes but I push them back.

I do what I do best now, suffocate the pain with anger.

“I am not you.And I don't want to be like you” I spit through my teeth.

Her gaze in response seethes with anger.

I hit her nerve.

To her ears it is a heresy that her own daughter does not want to look like the perfect Pepper Potts.

I turn my back and stride away from her.

I get into my car, throwing my backpack onto the seat next to me and, as I get out of gas I move away from this hell hole.

Bucky POV

I'm nervous.

As I stride towards the library my hands continue to sweat relentlessly and my heart does not want to stop its furious rush.

It's just a nice gesture.

Nothing more.

So why am I so fucking nervous?

Yet in these fortnight everything has been wonderfully perfect with Eleanor.

This is because she is wonderfully perfect.

Suggests my brain.

I sigh as I enter the large doors.

I show my school ID to the librarian and walk over to our table.

Our table.

This ours sounds far too wonderful to my ear.

Me, Eleanor and ours are certainly not words I would ever have thought of putting in the same sentence.

I'm the first to arrive so I sit and wait.

I look out of the large window and smile.

I've been doing it a lot lately.

I smile when I think of her.

I smile when I talk to her.

In this fortnight we got to know each other better, I discovered that we have many things in common.

We both love art and music.

I think back to our first meeting.

I'm sure she thought that I wasn't okay with my head, but besides observing her bewildered, I absolutely didn't know what else to do.

I mean Eleanor Stark was talking to me.

She was talking to me, James Barnes.

And in those few kind words and in her sweet smiles I realized how she really is a special person.

Her kindness is truly real, boundless.

A girl of her caliber would have been disgusted to sit next to me thinking twice...but not her.

She asked me to stay.

She asked me to meet again.

And now here we are.

Spending these few moments with her helps me to face my days at school with more strength.

They help me cope with my homecoming.

Walker and his friends continue to torment me while my father in turn continues to vent his anger on me for his miserable life and yet I continue to smile and wait for these few hours to the seventh to be able to see her again.

Footsteps behind me make my breathing quicken.

Finally she is here.

I turn to her smiling shyly but the smile dies on my lips and my eyes open wide in wonder.

I believe my jaw dropped on the floor at the moment.

I know I should compose myself but I just can't.

And as if that weren't enough to make the situation worse, my erection pushing furiously against the flap of my jeans.

I can usually keep my body's reactions at bay but today I feel my brain doesn't want to cooperate.

“Hi” Eleanor whispers as she approaches and as she usually takes her seat next to me.

“Hi” I stammer with my face on fire.

God today she is truly breathtakingly beautiful.

The dress she wears perfectly follows every curve of her, highlighting her narrow waist and generous breasts.

I look away embarrassed by her directing my attention towards my backpack, where I dip my hands in search of what I brought for her today.

I try to figure out how to get through this hour with her boobs that seem to literally scream at me to grab them in my hands.

Or how to resist the sight of her thighs appearing between the slits of her skirt with every little movement of her.

For a moment I let myself go to my most perverse fantasies.

I imagine kissing her, stroking her hips and slipping my hands under that skirt.

I imagine squeezing the tender flesh of her thighs between my fingers as my tongue continues to invade her mouth.

I imagine the sinful moan that comes out of her lips as my lips descend all the way down her neck and then get lost in her lustful breast.

"What are you looking for in there?" Eleanor chuckles tearing me away from my fantasies.

I jump like an idiot and turn to her.

Her crossed arms are resting on the table and her head rests on them.

She looks at me with an amused smile on her lips.

I stammer something indefinite.

Damn!

I clear my throat.

“I have a present for you” I mutter embarrassed as I pull a small plastic container out of my backpack.

She straightens up immediately with a strange expression on her face.

"A present?" she asks bewildered.

I scratch the back of my neck embarrassed.

"Yeah...I...I made it for you" I say hurriedly, handing her the container.

She grabs it, there is still an indecipherable expression on her face.

Her eyes are planted in mine, leaving me breathless.

With the light coming in through the windows this morning they look almost the same color as amber.

I feel like a prey bewitched by its predator, ready to succumb to its attack.

We simply remain observing ourselves, without moving.

Without speaking.

Then she frees me from the prison of her eyes and focuses on the small container she squeezes between her thin, delicate fingers.

I watch her as she lifts the lid and her eyes dilate.

Slowly her gaze returns to me.

"You did it?" she incredulous question.

I nod unable to find my voice.

Eleanor places the container on the table and with a trembling hand grabs the contents studying it carefully.

"Did you really do it?"

"I swear" I smile at her.

And she smiles at me in turn.

Eleanor observes the little tart in her hands and a moment later she brings it to her lips and takes a bite.

She sinks her teeth into the pastry firmly.

She closes her eyes and a moan of pure enjoyment escapes her lips.

And another discharge of pure excitement runs through me entirely making me swallow empty.

Eleanor Stark is standing here in front of me moaning with pleasure and I feel like I'm losing my mind.

I clench my hands in fists trying to curb my desire for her.

Eleanor just wants to be my friend, she feels sorry for me and she is just showing compassion towards another human being.

That's all.

I have to stop making mental films.

"Oh my God!Oh my..." she murmurs opening her eyes.

Hers tongue licks her upper lip trying to pick up the cream that escaped her bite.

With two fingers she grabs a raspberry and puts it in her mouth.

She continues to chew smiling at me.

"It's a shortcrust pastry tart with cocoa, with a coconut cream and berries" I explain ignoring the direction of my thoughts, I have to try to free my mind from certain thoughts.

“God Barnes you should open a bakery.You have a monstrous talent” she replies, taking another voracious bite of the tart.

She really seems to like it.

I shrug indifferently.

“I'm really serious Barnes.Have you ever thought about making it a profession?You know men who know how to cook are really sexy” she retorts with a sly look, winking at me.

I blush at her words.

Is she flirting with me by any chance?

Nah what nonsense!

Eleanor continues to look at me as if she really expected an answer from me.

I give up on the topic of sexy men, I do not understand if her was a simple statement or if she was flirting with me.

Yeah, you would like it man.

My cursed conscience laughs at me.

“I like to dabble in cooking but I don't think I'll ever do it as a job”

My father would kill me.

But her does not need to know this.

Cooking this very simple dessert was already an odyssey for me.

I had to ask Joe if I could use his oven and when he asked me why I wanted to make a dessert I just told him the truth.

That is, it was for the girl I liked.

But when he asked why I didn't do it in my house, I had to lie and tell him that the oven in my house was broken.

Joe wished me good luck and made me go up to his house, which is right above his shop.

To thank him, I made a tart for him too.

Eleanor has finished the whole tart and tastefully licks the tip of her index finger where a little cream was left.

My mind paints the image of her lips wrapped around something else...something else of mine.

I shake my head firmly.

That's enough or I won't even get to the next hour without cum in my underwear like a stupid idiot.

Eleanor smiles at me again.

“Thanks, you were really sweet.And your tart was really delicious”

She smiles beaming.

"It was a pleasure ma'am" I replied, bowing my head slightly forward.

We both burst out laughing.

“Ok ok!Come on help me with these damn homework.I don't understand anything about it” she sighs as she pulls her chair closer to mine.

Now our shoulders touch.

I grab my book from my backpack and after looking for the page with the topic that I will have to explain to her, I turn to her who, all concentrated, waits for me to speak.

But on her chin there is a little cream left which attracts my attention and makes me laugh.

"What?" she asks, looking around, unable to understand what amuses me.

“You…you have something on your face.Here” I tell her, pointing to her chin and trying to be as polite as possible.

I don't want her to think I'm laughing at her.

Eleanor's face turns red.

"Where?" she asks embarrassed making her hand wander over her chin but not finding the right spot.

I laugh amused.

"Here.Wait” I reply bringing my hand close to her face.

I grab her chin between forefinger and thumb and with the latter I rub the cream off.

I realize the gesture I made when Eleanor's hazel eyes widen and her cheeks turn even redder.

There is a storm of emotion in her eyes and for a moment, for a single moment, I feel as if she likes my touch.

My heart beats furiously and its echo reverberates deafeningly in my head.

In a completely instinctive gesture I trace the outline of her lips with the tip of my thumb.

As soon as my skin comes into contact with her soft lips, she open it and her warm breath touches the tip of my finger and my skin is literally on fire in that point.

The same fire that's burning in my eyes.

In her eyes.

I immediately retract my hand, murmuring an apology on my lips.

And rejecting everything I feel, everything I feel, I return to focus on the book in front of me.

Eleanor's eyes burn down my profile but I'm too cowardly to face her.

I ignore her hoping that she too will let go of whatever just happened between us.

Maybe you should kiss her and stop acting like a shit.

Or you could stop saying bullshit fucking conscience.

"So" I stammer clearing my throat.

"Tell me what you don't understand"

I hear Eleanor sigh but despite this I continue to keep my gaze fixed on the book.

"I don't understand how to do this calculation" she murmurs in a dejected voice.

"Now you have understood?" I ask after explaining the same thing to her four times.

Eleanor smiles beaming.

"Yes, I finally understood"

I remain enchanted to observe her while she smiles in that delightful way that I like so much.

“Sorry I'm a landslide” she giggles as she begins to pick up her things.

“Nah!You are not a landslide, you just need a few more explanations” I reply.

“Yeah…just a few…” she murmurs as she rolls her eyes.

We laugh together.

The embarrassment that was created before seems to have disappeared.

That's good.

I couldn't bear to lose her company just because of a foolish illusion of mine.

What a jerk I am.

How could I have thought that she could want something more from me?

I lean my back against the back of the chair and with my hands immersed in the pockets of the large sweatshirt I'm wearing I watch her put all her things in order.

God she is really beautiful.

I drink of every move of her like a thirsty man in the desert.

She bends forward to pick up her pencil case and my eye falls right on her neckline, below it I can see a strip of white lace.

And my cock for the umpteenth time makes me feel its presence strong and clear.

Yeah my friend, I know.

Eleanor stands up carrying a lock of hair behind her ear while she makes sure she has taken everything.

Finally I get up too and put all my things in bulk in my old and worn backpack.

We walk together but just before reaching the exit she freezes.

"Damn!" she mumbles, slapping her palm against her forehead.

"What happens?" I ask confused.

Maybe she realized we were about to leave the library together.

Usually she goes away first and after a few minutes I go away.

I always did it to leave her free to decide whether to show up with me or not and she never replied so it became like a tacit agreement between us.

But then she smiles.

“I promised Wanda to get her a science book.I have to go back.You go ahead.See you Tuesday"

"Are you sure?Do you need help?" I ask her eager to earn even just a few more short moments with her.

She shakes her head.

"I can take care of myself Barnes" she giggles, giving me a wink she go away from me.

I watch her until she disappears among the high shelves.

I remain impaled like a stupid until my feet move by themselves in the same direction from which she disappeared.

What the hell am I doing?

I don't know but I can't stop.

I look for her among the shelves until I see her.

Her beautiful profile stands out before my eyes.

She is on her tiptoes and she is pushing her arm as hard as she can to try and grab a book from the top shelf.

I smile and I approach her to help her and when I reach her side I raise my arm and grab the book.

"Luckily you knew how to take care of yourself" I mocked her jokingly.

Eleanor at first jumps from fear then turning to me and she hits my chest hard with her small hand.

“God Barnes!You scared the shit out of me!" she scolds me in a low voice.

I laugh with amusement at her funny expression.

And when my laughter is lost in the air around us, an awkward and tense silence returns overwhelmingly.

This part of the library is more isolated, there are no windows but only narrow and long corridors illuminated by some neon.

I hand her the book and she grabs it and hugs it to her chest.

Our gazes are chained to each other and we remain so, silent and motionless, studying each other.

Then for a split second her gaze falls to my lips.

I watch her as she tortured her lower lip with her teeth.

I can't do that.

I can't kiss her.

I am nobody.

I am just an outcast of this society devoted to money and consumerism.

I'm an ordinary nobody destined to have nothing good in this life.

I'm not a nice guy, I don't have a beautiful or sexy body, and I'm not a confident guy.

I allow my father to destroy my body and soul, the man who should help me face this life.

No girl will ever be attracted to a weak and pathetic guy like me.

I am nothing.

And she is Eleanor Stark.

She could have it all.

She has the world at her feet.

Why should she ever settle for someone like me?

I take a step back and for the second time I break our eye contact.

"I have to go Eleanor" I murmur with my eyes down.

Right now I can't even look into her eyes.

"James" a strangled whisper and a deafening thud.

The science book lies on the floor as Eleanor's arms are tied around my neck and her lips are pressed to mine.

She presses them hard as she lifts herself up onto her toes.

Her eyes are closed while mine are wide open in shock and my arms hang lifeless along my body.

Eleanor is kissing me.

Eleanor Stark is kissing me.

She wanted it.

This is not a fantasy.

This is reality and in this reality she chose to kiss me.

And now it is my turn, now or never.

And so I let myself go.

I raise my arms and with a trembling hand I grab her hips.

A shiver shakes her and her lips press even more forcefully against mine.

In response to her enthusiasm I begin to kiss her too.

Our lips brush, gently rubbing each other and with my heart beating so hard that I think it can be heard from miles away I push myself further.

I part my lips and with the tip of my tongue I caress her lips, full and soft.

Eleanor moans opening her lips in turn and a moment later my tongue is in her mouth.

I have no idea what to do, I've never kissed a girl, so I let myself be guided by my instincts.

I bring my body close to hers by pressing her against the shelf behind her, a moan escapes from her lips and I don't know if it's for surprise or for pleasure but that's enough for me to unleash the sleeping beast inside me.

I let myself go completely to the kiss.

My tongue caresses Eleanor's with passion, I move it together with her in an unknown but pleasant dance.

Much more than pleasant.

In the heat of the moment I push my hips towards her, rubbing it against her abdomen ripping out of her another moan.

Her hands caress my neck and then move towards my chest where they forcefully claw my sweatshirt.

My head is spinning as my breath gets shorter and shorter.

I move my hands from her hips and slowly with my fingertips I caress her thighs through the slits in her skirt and then I go up to her arms, I stroke them up and down and then I bring my hands to her face.

I wrap my finger around her beautiful face and as I continue to kiss her I gently rub my thumbs against her delicate skin.

Her perfume invades my nostrils.

My head.

My heart.

It is a strong fragrance, delicate like flowers and strong like wood.

Oriental.

I feel overwhelmed.

As if I flew up to the sun and after getting burned I fell down at a speed that leaves no alternative but crashing to the ground.

And even if you already know it's going to hurt like hell, you'll want to do it again.

And again.

And again.

A pleasant torture that worth every drop of blood.

We are now short of oxygen and we just have to separate.

We slowly move away only a few inches.

I slowly open my eyes.

Her's are still closed so I take this opportunity to kiss her again.

Gently and delicately I kissing her slowly and Eleanor lets herself be guided by me, it is as if she were clay in my hands.

She too grabs my face in her hands.

Now her fingers too slowly caress my cheekbones.

Ours lips touch, ours hands study new horizons.

The world around us seems to have disappeared, it's just me and her.

James and Eleanor.

The only sound around us is the crazy beating of our hearts.

Eleanor opens her eyes again.

For a moment there is only silence and a deep sense of fear makes room in me.

What if she pushes me away?

What if this kiss meant nothing to her?

What if she regrets it?

But then one thing happens.

Eleanor smiles at me.

Her hands come off my face to tie around my waist and her head rests on my chest.

She is hugging me and I feel that in this exact moment we are more intimate than when we were kissing.

I too hold her in my arms, sinking my face into her soft and scented hair.

After a few seconds of this moment of bliss a serene and amused voice resounds behind us.

“Oh Nora!Really?"

Eleanor stiffens and I immediately pull my arms away from her body, throwing my hands up in the air as if giving up.

I turn my head in the direction of that voice.

Behind me with a sly smile on his lips is Pietro Maximoff.

I continue to keep my arms raised as Eleanor lifts her face in search of my gaze without ever loosening her grip on my body.

"Everything is fine.He's a friend” she murmurs and then sinks her face back into my chest.

I embrace her again.

If before I thought that my heart could come out of my chest now I'm afraid it could just explode.

She did not dodge me, she continues to hug me regardless of the fact that we have just caught together.

She is not ashamed of me.

Pietro raises an eyebrow as he crosses his arms across his chest.

“Hey Wanda come here!You will not believe your eyes" chuckles Pietro, drawing the attention of his sister.

“Oh P!Shut the fuck up!” Eleanor chuckles raising her head to focus her gaze on her friend.

Pietro approaches, holding out his hand to me.

“How you doin', dude?I am Pietro” he introduces himself smiling at me.

I don't know if this is really happening or if in a few minutes I'll wake up sweaty and panting in my bedroom.

Eleanor intercepts my bewildered gaze and as soon as our gazes meet she smiles at me encouragingly.

I move my gaze to Pietro's hand and then to his face.

There is no mockery or malice in his eyes, he just smiles at me in a friendly way.

And then I raise my hand and squeeze his.

“Hi, I'm James.Nice to meet you”

Pietro laughs.

“Oh man, the pleasure is mine!You know I did not believe that there was a boy in the world capable of catching the attention of our Nora" he replies and then calls her sister again.

"Wanda!" he exclaims and the sound of her footsteps gets closer and closer.

"Yeah!I'm coming!Stop screaming"

Her voice reaches us from around the corner.

"Did you find Nor..."

Her question dies on her lips as soon as she notices the small crowd in front of her eyes.

Her big blue eyes are at first confused then as she studies our positions they move from confusion to curiosity.

Yeah, I can understand her.

There is her best friend hugging the strange boy from school and that boy is wrapping her shoulders with his arm.

First she takes a look at her brother Pietro who continues to smile slyly then her attention is all to us.

"What the hell?" she asks advancing towards us.

Eleanor loosens our embrace but immediately her hand looks for mine and once she finds it I let our fingers intertwine.

Wanda captures our every movement with her attentive and crystalline gaze and then focuses her clear gaze on that of her best friend.

“Wanda this is James.James she is Wanda” introduces Eleanor to us without ever taking his eyes off those of her childhood friend.

And if earlier her reaction to Pietro's arrival had been serene, now I can feel all her tension through our interlocked hands.

Even if she continues to smile, her eyes seem anxious.

I think she cares about Wanda's judgment more than she imagined.

Wanda shakes her head and walks forward smiling.

“And you said you came here to do your math homework.Liar” Wanda teases her.

"It's actually the truth" Eleanor grumbles as she gets a roll of eyes from her friend.

Wanda joins us standing right in front of me.

"Hi James" she greets me, scrutinizing me intently, as if she were trying to read my mind.

I move slightly uncomfortably greeting her in turn with a faint “Hi”.

I'm still too stunned by the latest events.

A lot is happening and all too fast.

Pietro at my side gives me a playful shoulder with a wink.

"She just wants to intimidate you" he whispers to me, indicating her sister with a nod of his head.

"I don't know whether to kick you for not saying anything to me or be happy because you can't stop smiling"

Wanda's words attract my attention again.

Eleanor beside me rolls her eyes and never stops smiling.

“As much as I love gossip, I really have to run away.Coach Winkler doesn't particularly like latecomers” murmurs Pietro, patting me on the back.

The simplicity with which Pietro is treating me as if he has always known me is incredible.

As if I were a friend of him.

“What are you doing Wanda?Are you skipping the lesson?" asks Pietro to her twin.

"Obvious!Eleanor and I have a lot to talk about.That's true, my dear best friend?" Wanda chirps, smiling slyly.

“But I would have math class now.I've studied a lot, I don't want to miss it” complains Eleanor but immediately she falls silent at Wanda's skeptical gaze.

"Yeah, study...sure" she replies grabbing her free hand and pulling Eleanor towards her.

“Say hello to your James, Nora” she tells her as she continues to pull her until our hands separate.

Your James.

I blush.

“Ok ok!You won!" Eleanor exclaims.

"Hi James.See you soon” she whispers.

Her uncertain gaze, however, seems to want to tell me more.

"See you soon" I answer her smiling weakly.

Now the future is truly a frightening unknown.

What will happen between us now?

What does everything that happened mean?

Eleanor turns her back to me and takes a few steps forward flanked by Wanda but she immediately stops.

"Oh fuck!" she exclaim.

I watch her as she turns back to me and she joins me, stopping just a few steps away from me.

"Listen...do you want to go out with me tomorrow night?" she asks me straight away.

Her face is on fire and I can't help but find her adorable.

"Yeah" I whisper embarrassed not so much by her proposal, I am totally incredulous about this, but by the fact that we have an audience that witnesses all of this and she doesn't seem to care at all.

Eleanor reaches out her hand in front of me.

I look at her without understanding.

"Give me your phone" she tells me answering my silent question.

I hand her the phone without hesitation.

God!Is there anything I wouldn't do for her?

She grabs it and quickly types something, then she hands it back to me.

“Now you have my number.We'll talk later to agree, okay?"

"Sure" I reply simply stammering, the hands that holding the phone tremble uncontrollably.

Then she smiles and after leaving me a kiss on my cheek she turns her back to me and she walks away giggling with Wanda.

"Women.Whoever understands them is a genius” murmured Pietro, shaking his head.

I nod to agree with him.

"What lesson do you have now?" Pietro asks me.

I look away from where Eleanor disappeared from, turning my attention to the boy next to me.

His hair is so blond that it almost looks like silver threads.

"Art" I reply.

"Then we go to the same side" says Peter, patting me on the back.

"Come on let's go" he encourages me to follow him and I do, I pick up my backpack from the floor and walk beside him.

We walk in silence but it is not an awkward silence.

"So...you and Nora, huh?" he chuckles amused running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah...I confess that even I can't get over it" I murmur confused.

What the hell does Eleanor find interesting about me?

Pietro answers me something but I am not able to understand what he is saying because in front of me, wrapped in his jacket, green and silver as the colors of the school, Walker is advancing with his stupid friends.

I look down at the floor hoping he will let me go.

"Hey sissy" he yells at me rudely as soon as he notices my presence.

I ignore him but Pietro next to me doesn't seem to be of the same opinion as me.

"Stop it Walker" he warns as we advance towards them.

Walker slows to a stop.

"Oh sorry!I didn't know the fag was your friend” he laughs followed by everyone else.

Pietro stops grabbing me by the arm and forcing me to stop too.

"Forget it" I whisper faintly.

I don't want Pietro to antagonize someone like Walker because of me.

“Yeah!He's my friend.Any problems?" Pietro asks him, challenging him to continue.

Walker exchanges a couple of amused glances with his friends then turns back to Pietro.

“Oh no dude.No problem.If you like to be seen around with that loser, that's fine by me” he retorts, looking at me as if I were garbage.

His empty, soulless eyes focus on me as if he wanted to do nothing but destroy me.

Pietro laughs, catching everyone a little off guard.

Me too.

"See Walker if I liked being seen around with losers right now I would be part of your team" he replies with a shrug.

At the words of him Walker's face is transfigured, he no longer has the air of a braggart now.

His eyes ooze anger.

Hate.

His friend Lemar, his trusted right hand man, urges him to let go.

"Let's go away John"

"Yes, go away John" repeats Peter then turns his back on him and continues on his journey.

I stand there, Walker's eyes staring at me with a single promise.

As soon as he catches me alone he will have his revenge.

I turn quickly and reach Pietro.

As soon Walker is no longer visible to our eyes, Pietro stops giving me a blow on the chest.

“Dude!Why the hell do you get treated like this?" he asks me.

He looks genuinely pissed off.

I look away from his face staring at somewhere in front of me.

"Have you seen him?He is twice the size of me!What the hell am I supposed to do?"

What does he thinks I enjoy being humiliated and beaten up?

“He's bigger than me too but he's just a jerk.You should learn to be respected”

His words drive me crazy.

All the anger inside me suddenly erupts.

“Do you think I don't know?You think I like being treated like I'm human waste, huh?I am not you Pietro, I am not brave and sure of myself.I'm just a fucking coward!" I hiss at him.

But then I immediately realize that I'm mistreating a person who is basically just trying to help me.

Perhaps the only one that has ever done.

I take a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to take it out on you" I apologize to him, rubbing my face in my hands and then bringing them through my hair.

"It's okay" he reassures me waving a hand in front of my face.

"But you really shouldn't allow that idiot to treat you like that" adds Pietro, softening his gaze.

I nod, sighing wearily.

“Ok I run away or the coach will kill me.See you dude!" so saying he pats me on the back and runs off.

"See you soon" I now whisper to the deserted corridor.

I take a couple of deep breaths and settling my backpack on my shoulder I enter the classroom.

Thank goodness the professor has not yet arrived so I hurry to get to my seat in the back row, I sit down and a trembling breath leaves my lips and despite the encounter-clash with Walker I find myself smiling again.

Eleanor kissed me and we have a date tomorrow night.

With a trembling hand I grab my old smartphone from my trouser pocket and scroll through the address book.

I smile again like an idiot at the sight of her contact, she has memorized it under the name Nora.

The professor makes his entrance and the whole class falls silent so that the lesson can begin.

But no matter how hard I try today I just can't understand a single word…my mind is too busy retracing every single moment I spent with Eleanor.

All I do is think of her lips on mine, of the softness of her hips under my greedy fingers.

The feel of her warm body pressed against mine.

I can still feel her perfume poison my soul and cloud my senses.

She wasn't ashamed to be seen with me.

She hugged me in front of her friends, she introduced me to them.

She asked me for a date in front of her two best friends.

This must mean something, isn't it?

I am excited and terrified at the same time at the idea of spending more time with her.

This date could be the turning point in my pathetic life.

Finally Eleanor has noticed me and I will do anything to keep her close.

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❝❣︎ᴀ sᴛᴀʀᴋ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ sɪᴛᴄᴏᴍ❣︎❞

🅢🅤🅜🅜🅔🅡🅨:When Iron Man hangs up the suit, he trades battles for bedtime stories. Join Tony Stark, his brilliant wife Y/n, their web-slinging son Peter, and chaos queen Liliana as they navigate high-tech parenting, sibling shenanigans, and family life—with love, laughter, and the occasional glitter explosion.

||Main Master List|| ||Family:Assembled Master List||

Characters: Tony Stark x f!Reader

𝑺1 𝑬𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒅𝒆 4: Stark Family Vacation

COLD OPEN

INT. STARK TOWER – LIVING ROOM – DAY

[Tony Stark is standing in front of the family with a whiteboard. On it, written in red marker: “STARK FAMILY VACATION PLAN: BEACH, BONDING, NO EXPLOSIONS.”]

TONY:“Okay team, it’s finally happening. A no-avengering, no-crime-fighting, zero-lab, Stark-only getaway.”

Y/N (raising a brow):“You made a PowerPoint for this, didn’t you?”

TONY:“No… I made three.”

PETER:“Are there graphs?”

TONY:“There’s a bar graph comparing our stress levels with and without beach naps. It’s science.”

LILIANA (bouncing):“Can Harold come?”

[Harold, the hamster, pokes his head out of Liliana’s hoodie pocket.]

TONY:“Sure. What’s the worst that could happen?”

[Smash cut to the private jet engulfed in flames.]

SCENE 1 – INT. STARK PRIVATE JET – MID-FLIGHT

[The family is mid-air, lounging in comfort. Tony is sipping a drink with a tiny umbrella. FRIDAY is operating the cabin.]

Y/N:“Remind me why you insisted on piloting the jet yourself?”

TONY:“Because when you’re a genius billionaire, you fly in style. Also, last time we let a pilot in here, Peter grilled him about Avengers protocol and scared him off.”

PETER (shrugging):“His answers were incomplete.”

LILIANA:“Harold’s seatbelt won’t buckle.”

TONY:“That’s because it’s a cup holder.”

[Cut to Harold sitting in a cup holder with aviator goggles. Liliana gives him a salute.]

TONY (CONT’D):“Relax, team. What could go wrong?”

[A loud POP sounds from the back. The cabin lights flicker.]

FRIDAY:“Mr. Stark… engine temperature rising. Also, someone reprogrammed the intercom to play ‘Let It Go’ every five minutes.”

LILIANA (guilty):“It’s for morale!”

TONY:“I checked every wire on that jet. It’s impossible for it to catch fire.”

Y/N:“You left Liliana alone in the cockpit for twenty minutes with a juice box and an iPad.”

PETER:“She renamed the jet ‘Flamey McFlyson.’”

LILIANA (grinning):“It was foreshadowing!”

SCENE 3 – INT. JET – TEN MINUTES LATER

[Smoke fills the cockpit. FRIDAY blares warnings.]

FRIDAY:“Fire detected. Initiating emergency landing. Deploying sarcasm shields.”

TONY:“…That last one wasn’t me.”

Y/N:“Everyone grab something soft and brace yourselves!”

LILIANA:“Harold’s already in panic mode.”

[Cut to Harold burrowed into a fruit bowl. The family screams comically as the jet jolts.]

SCENE 4 – EXT. TROPICAL ISLAND – CRASH SITE – MOMENTS LATER

[The Stark jet is mostly intact, but the tail is smoking and someone’s inflatable pool flamingo is on fire. Tony stumbles out in a robe.]

TONY:“We landed! Technically!”

Y/N:“You crashed into a coconut tree.”

PETER:“…At least it’s scenic?”

LILIANA (sipping a juice box):“10/10 landing. Would crash again.”

SCENE 5 – EXT. RESORT CHECK-IN – LATER THAT DAY

[The Starks stumble into the luxury resort, sandy, slightly singed, and with Harold riding in a hat.]

RECEPTIONIST:“Welcome to Moon Shell Cove Resort! May I ask what happened to your jet?”

TONY:“Spontaneous combustion. Happens all the time.”

RECEPTIONIST:“…Right.”

Y/N (whispering):“Tony, don’t say spontaneous combustion like it’s normal.”

TONY (whispering back):“I’m trying to sound chill.”

SCENE 6 – INT. HOTEL ROOM – NIGHT

[Peter and Liliana have their own adjoining room. Peter is trying to plug in FRIDAY to the TV. Liliana is building a sandcastle inside the suite.]

PETER:

“I think FRIDAY’s still a little fried. She tried to order a tactical drone strike on the minibar.”

FRIDAY (faintly):

“Those pretzels were taunting me.”

SCENE 7 – INT. PARENTS’ SUITE – SAME TIME

[Tony and Y/N lie in bed. The window shows a gorgeous moonlit beach. Y/N has cucumbers over her eyes. Tony is holding a broken sunscreen bottle.]

TONY:

“So this is relaxing.”

Y/N:

“We’ve crash-landed, possibly broken federal airspace laws, and your daughter turned the resort bidet into a hamster water slide.”

TONY:

“…But we’re not being shot at. Progress?”

Y/N (laughing):

“I’ll give you that.”

SCENE 8 – EXT. POOL – NEXT MORNING

[The family is trying to relax. Tony has 14 gadgets tracking UV levels. Y/N is reading under an umbrella. Peter is buried in sand. Liliana and Harold are floating in a pool donut.]

TONY:“Who wants smoothies?”

LILIANA:“Harold wants watermelon flavor.”

FRIDAY (from a floating speaker):“I am unable to process flavor preferences for rodents. Error. Error.”

PETER (muffled):“Why is no one helping me out of the sand?”

TONY:“You looked peaceful.”

SCENE 9 – INT. MOCKUMENTARY CUTS

TONY:“Listen, I may not be ‘vacation dad’ material…”

Y/N:“But he tries. Even when he programs the beach umbrella to play AC/DC and it chases lifeguards.”

PETER:“I’m not even mad. The umbrella had rhythm.”

LILIANA (with Harold in sunglasses):“Best. Trip. Ever.”

SCENE 10 – EXT. BEACH BONFIRE – NIGHT

[The family is roasting marshmallows. A few beach guests gather around. Tony strums a ukulele poorly. Y/N gently rests her head on his shoulder.]

PETER:“We should do this more often. Y’know, with less fire.”

LILIANA:“I like fire.”

TONY:“Let’s not encourage that.”

Y/N:“Despite the explosions, this was… kind of perfect.”

SCENE 11 – EXT. AIRPORT – DEPARTURE DAY

[A new jet awaits. Tony is inspecting it like a hawk. Liliana places a sticker on the nose: “Harold’s Jet.”]

Y/N:“No more mid-air experiments.”

LILIANA:“Define ‘experiment.’”

TONY:“Define ‘mid-air.’”

Y/N (sighing):“We’re doomed.”

[They board the jet. It hums to life—no smoke. Peter gives a thumbs up.]

FRIDAY:“Welcome back, Starks. I am once again flame-free and emotionally stable.”

TONY:“Same, FRIDAY. Same.”

POST-CREDIT SCENE

[Back at the beach, the burned-out flamingo floatie begins to twitch. A resort staff member approaches.]

STAFF (confused):“…Is it humming AC/DC?”

-to be continued