#tony stark needs a nap

[buckysshampoo]

tony: kid, where did you get these from?

peter, softly: mr stark, they’re named floppy, quacky, sir-quacks-a-lot, and mr sharp beak. they’re my friends :)

tony: they should go back to their families, kid

peter, tearfully: i’m a kidnapper?

Peter has a soft spot for ducks and will always stop to feed them if he sees them at a pond. He once befriended an entire flock that followed him for six blocks because he had crackers in his backpack.

[camerica]

[amethystarachnid]

Requesting you for a really soul-shattering, heart breaking, ugly crying sad ending fic w tony & y/n. My depressed af brain needs it. (Make it like a really bad breakup or divorce but NOT death)

Pweaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 ofc only if u want to

RUSTED LOVE

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

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

ᯓ★ Genre: pure angst

ᯓ★ Word count: 3.7k

ᯓ★ Summary: you thought marrying Tony Stark would be a living fairy tale, and at first it was: perfect marriage and a perfect babyboy, until he started being more Iron Man than Tony

ᯓ★ TW(s): Emotional Neglect, Parental Absence, Divorce, Child Heartbreak, Abandonment Issues, Chronic Disappointment, Emotional Infidelity (prioritizing work over family), Parental Guilt (you said angst...)

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

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

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

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The penthouse is quiet when you wake up—too quiet. The space beside you in bed is cold, untouched. Tony didn’t come to bed again. You sit up, running a hand through your hair, and listen for any sign of him—the hum of the lab below, the distant clinking of tools, the low murmur of JARVIS responding to his commands. But there’s nothing. Just silence.

Luke’s soft voice drifts from the nursery, calling for you. “Mama? Mama, up!”

You force yourself to move, pushing back the heaviness in your chest. Luke is standing in his crib, arms outstretched, his big brown eyes—so much like Tony’s—bright with excitement. The second he sees you, his face lights up, and he bounces on his toes. “Mama! Up, up!”

You scoop him into your arms, breathing in the sweet, innocent scent of him—baby shampoo and warmth. He clings to you, pressing his face into your shoulder. “Where Daddy?” he mumbles, his words still clumsy, still learning.

Your throat tightens. “Daddy’s working, baby.”

Luke frowns, his little fingers playing with the collar of your shirt. “But… but Daddy said park.”

Your heart sinks. Tony had promised. Again.

You carry Luke to the kitchen, setting him in his high chair as you start breakfast. The penthouse feels too big, too empty, despite the two of you filling it with your presence. You try not to think about the days when Tony used to wake up with you, when he’d pull you into his arms before either of you even opened your eyes, whispering against your skin how lucky he was. When he’d make pancakes with Luke balanced on his hip, laughing as their son smeared syrup everywhere.

Now, the lab consumes him. Iron Man consumes him. And you—you’re left with the pieces of the man you married, the man who used to look at you like you were his entire world.

Luke babbles happily as he eats, telling you some story only a three-year-old could invent, full of half-formed words and wild gestures. You nod along, smiling when he giggles, but your mind is elsewhere—on Tony, on the growing distance between you, on the way he flinches when you touch him sometimes, like he’s already braced for disappointment.

You take Luke to the park alone. He runs ahead, squealing as he climbs the jungle gym, and you watch him with a hollow ache in your chest. Tony should be here. He promised.

When you get back, the penthouse is still empty. You put Luke down for his nap, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he drifts off, his tiny fingers curled around the stuffed Iron Man toy Tony gave him last Christmas.

You find Tony in the lab, bent over a gauntlet, his hands moving with mechanical precision. He doesn’t hear you at first, lost in his work. You stand there, arms crossed, watching him. He looks exhausted—dark circles under his eyes, his hair a mess, his shirt wrinkled.

“You missed the park,” you say quietly.

Tony startles, turning to face you. His eyes flicker with guilt before he schools his expression. “Shit. I—I lost track of time.”

“You always lose track of time.”

He runs a hand over his face. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to him—to both of you.”

“When, Tony?” Your voice cracks. “When will you make it up to us? Because it’s always later. It’s always next time. And Luke—he doesn’t understand. He just knows his daddy isn’t there.”

Tony’s jaw tightens. “I’m trying.”

“Are you?” The words spill out before you can stop them. “Because it feels like we’re not even part of your life anymore. It’s just you and the suits and the missions. We’re just—background noise.”

He flinches like you’ve struck him. “That’s not true.”

“Then prove it.” Your eyes burn. “Because I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep waiting for you to remember us.”

Tony stares at you, his expression raw. For a moment, you think he’ll say something—anything—to fix this. But then the console behind him beeps, an alert flashing red. His gaze darts toward it instinctively.

And that’s all the answer you need.

You turn and walk away before he can see you cry.

That night, you lie in bed alone again, listening to the silence. Luke stirs in his room, whimpering in his sleep, and you go to him, smoothing his hair until he settles. You stay there, watching him, wondering how much longer you can keep pretending this is enough.

Tony finally comes to bed hours later, slipping under the covers carefully, like he’s afraid to disturb you. He doesn’t reach for you. He doesn’t say a word.

And that—that hurts more than anything.

You close your eyes, aching for the man who used to love you without hesitation. But the bed feels too big, the distance between you too wide.

And for the first time, you wonder if love was ever enough to begin with.

---

Luke’s fever spikes in the middle of the night.

You jolt awake to the sound of his weak, pitiful cries—not the usual energetic whining, but something small and broken. Your heart lurches as you stumble into his room, flicking on the light to see him curled up in bed, his face flushed, sweat-damp hair sticking to his forehead.

“Mama,” he whimpers, his voice hoarse. “Mama, hurts.”

You press a hand to his forehead and your stomach drops. Burning up.

“Oh, baby,” you murmur, scooping him into your arms. He clings to you, his little body trembling, and you carry him to the bathroom, fumbling for the thermometer. The digital readout flashes red—103.2.

Your breath catches.

You call Tony first. It’s instinct, even though you know better by now. The phone rings and rings before going to voicemail. You try again. Nothing.

Luke whines against your shoulder, his fingers clutching your shirt. “Daddy?” he rasps, his big, glassy eyes searching your face. “Want Daddy.”

Your throat tightens. “Daddy’s… busy, sweetheart. But Mama’s here.”

You don’t bother calling again.

Instead, you move on autopilot—children’s Tylenol, a lukewarm bath, cool compresses pressed to his forehead. Luke cries the whole time, his tiny voice cracking as he calls for Tony between sobs. “Daddy come? Daddy help?”

You swallow back the lump in your throat. “Soon, baby.”

But Tony doesn’t come.

Hours pass. The fever dips slightly, then spikes again. Luke drifts in and out of restless sleep, his breaths shallow, his cheeks still too pink. You don’t sleep at all. You sit on the edge of his bed, stroking his hair, whispering reassurances you don’t feel.

Morning comes. The penthouse is still silent.

You check your phone—no missed calls, no texts. Nothing.

Luke wakes up crying again, his voice weak. “Daddy…?”

You close your eyes.

That’s when it hits you—the quiet, devastating truth.

You can’t do this anymore.

Not the empty promises, not the loneliness, not the way your son’s heart breaks every time his father chooses something—anything—over him. Over you.

You think of divorce. The word sits heavy in your chest, ugly and final. But for the first time, it doesn’t scare you. It feels like the only way to stop the bleeding.

You press a kiss to Luke’s forehead, your voice barely a whisper.

“It’s okay, baby. Mama’s here.”

----

The days pass in a blur of quiet heartbreak.

Luke’s fever breaks after two long days, but the ache in your chest doesn’t fade. You watch him play with his blocks on the living room floor, babbling to himself, his little voice still scratchy from being sick. He doesn’t ask for Tony as much anymore—not since that night. It’s like he’s already given up, too.

You kneel beside him, smoothing his hair back. “Hey, baby. What are you building?”

He grins up at you, holding up a lopsided tower. “For Daddy!”

Your stomach twists. Of course.

“You wanna show him when he gets home?” you ask carefully.

Luke’s smile dims. He shrugs, turning back to his blocks. “Daddy busy.”

The resignation in his tiny voice is what finally breaks you.

That night, when Tony finally drags himself up from the lab—hair disheveled, oil smudged on his cheek—you don’t greet him with silence like usual. You stand in the doorway of the bedroom, arms crossed, and say the words you’ve been dreading.

“We need to talk.”

Tony freezes. He knows that tone. His eyes flicker with something like fear before he schools his expression. “Yeah. Okay.”

You don’t sit. Neither does he. The space between you feels like a chasm.

“I’ve been thinking about divorce,” you say quietly.

Tony flinches like you’ve struck him. His mouth opens, then closes. For once, the genius who always has a quip, a solution, a way out—has nothing.

You continue before he can find his voice. “Luke doesn’t even ask for you anymore, Tony. He expectsyou not to be here. And I—I can’t keep doing this. Waiting for you to remember you have a family.”

Tony’s breathing is uneven. “I—I didn’t realize—”

“That’s the problem,” you whisper. “You don’t realize. Not until it’s too late.”

He looks gutted. Lost. For a second, you see the man you fell in love with—the one who promised you forever with shaking hands and stars in his eyes.

You take a shaky breath. “Luke’s birthday is in three weeks. I’m giving you one last chance. Be there.Not just physically—really be there. For him. For us. Or I’m done.”

Tony swallows hard. His voice is raw when he finally speaks. “I’ll fix this.”

You want to believe him.

But you’ve heard that before.

---

The days slip by, each one marked by Luke’s growing excitement—and the quiet, gnawing dread in your chest.

"Mama, can I have a dinosaur cake?" Luke asks one morning, swinging his legs at the kitchen counter as he scribbles on a piece of paper with a blue crayon. His tongue pokes out in concentration as he draws what might be a T-Rex—or possibly a very lumpy cloud.

You smooth his hair back, smiling despite the heaviness in your chest. "Of course, baby. A big one, with green frosting for the scales?"

Luke gasps, eyes wide. "And sparkles?"

You laugh softly. "And sparkles."

He cheers, kicking his feet, then pauses. His little face scrunches in thought. "Daddy like dinosaurs too?"

The question is innocent, but it stings. You hesitate, then choose your words carefully. "He does. But even if Daddy’s busy, we’ll still have the best cake, okay?"

Luke nods, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—disappointment, maybe, or just resignation. He doesn’t push. Doesn’t ask when Tony will be home. Just goes back to coloring, humming to himself.

That’s the worst part.

That he’s already stopped expecting him.

Later, while pushing him on the swings at the park, you test the waters again.

"Hey, bug," you say softly as he giggles, wind rushing through his hair. "What if… what if just Mama and you lived somewhere else one day? Like a new house?"

Luke slows his swinging, little brows furrowing. "No Daddy?"

Your stomach twists. "Daddy would visit. But it would just be you and me most days."

He thinks hard, tiny fingers gripping the swing chains. "Like… like Uncle Rhodey visits?"

You nod. "Yeah. Like that."

Luke is quiet for a long moment. Then, in a small voice: "Daddy not come home now anyway."

The words hit like a punch.

You stop the swing, pulling him into your arms, pressing a kiss to his temple. He doesn’t seem upset—just matter-of-fact. Like he’s already accepted it.

And that? That kills you.

Tony tries.

Sort of.

He comes up for dinner twice that week, though he’s distracted, checking his phone, his leg bouncing under the table. Luke beams the first time, chattering excitedly about his birthday plans, but when Tony blanks on the name of his favorite stuffed animal ("It’s Rex, Daddy," Luke says, crestfallen), the light in his eyes dims a little.

The second time, Tony makes it through the meal—but leaves halfway through Luke’s bath time when a call comes in from Pepper. You hear him murmur "It’s important" before the elevator doors close.

Luke doesn’t ask where he went. Just splashes listlessly in the tub, his dinosaur toys floating forgotten around him.

That night, as you tuck him in, he looks up at you with those big, too-knowing eyes.

"Mama?"

"Yeah, baby?"

He fiddles with the edge of his blanket. "If Daddy not come to my birthday… it’s okay." He says it like he’s trying to convince himself. "We still have sparkles."

Your vision blurs.

You kiss his forehead, lingering a second longer than usual. "Yeah, baby. We’ll still have sparkles."

But as you shut his door softly behind you, you know—

Three weeks won’t change anything.

And you’re done waiting for a miracle.

---

The morning of Luke’s birthday dawns bright and sunny, as if the universe is mocking you.

You wake up early, decorating the penthouse with colorful balloons and dinosaur banners while Luke still sleeps. The dinosaur cake—green frosting, edible sparkles, just like he wanted—sits proudly in the center of the table. You check your phone for the hundredth time.

No messages. No calls.

Tony had mumbled something about "finishing up a project" last night before disappearing back into the lab. You hadn’t even bothered arguing.

Luke comes padding out of his room, rubbing his eyes, his hair sticking up in every direction. The second he sees the decorations, his whole face lights up. "Mama! It’s my day!"

You scoop him up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "It’s your day, baby! Four years old—such a big boy!"

He giggles, squirming in your arms. "Where Daddy? He see my cake?"

Your smile falters for just a second. "Daddy’s… still working. But he’ll try to come up later, okay?"

Luke nods, but his excitement dims just a little. He doesn’t ask again.

The party is small—just a few of Luke’s friends from the playground and their parents. The kids shriek with laughter as they play pin the tail on the dinosaur and smash open a piñata. Luke runs around with a paper crown crooked on his head, his cheeks flushed with joy.

Every time the elevator dings, though, his head whips around.

Every time, it’s not Tony.

Halfway through cake, one of the little girls—Emma, with curly pigtails—tilts her head and asks, "Luke, where’s your daddy?"

Luke stuffs a huge bite of cake into his mouth, frosting smeared on his chin. "Daddy’s busy," he says, like it’s a normal fact, like saying the sky is blue. "He makes ‘ron Man suits. But Mama got me sparkles!" He points proudly at his cake like that explains everything.

The other kids just nod and move on, but your chest aches.

By bedtime, the penthouse is quiet again.

Luke is exhausted, half-asleep as you tuck him in, still wearing his party hat. He clutches Rex to his chest, his eyelids drooping.

"No Daddy?" he mumbles, barely audible.

Your throat tightens. "Not tonight, baby."

Luke nods, his lips trembling just a little before he buries his face in his stuffed dinosaur. "S’okay. Had best birthday."

You press a kiss to his forehead, blinking back tears. "I love you, Luke. More than anything."

He’s already asleep before you finish the sentence.

You find Tony in the lab at 1 AM, still hunched over a holographic blueprint.

He looks up when you enter, his face flickering with something like guilt when he sees your expression. "Shit. The party—"

"Was today," you say, your voice deadly calm. "Luke waited for you. Kept looking for you. And you didn’t even text."

Tony runs a hand through his hair. "I lost track of time—this new propulsion system—"

"You always lose track of time." The words come out sharp, brittle. "But not today, Tony. Not on his birthday."

He opens his mouth, then closes it. For once, he has no excuse.

You don’t wait for him to find one.

You turn and walk out, the weight of your decision settling over you like a shroud.

Tomorrow, you’ll call a lawyer.

Tonight, you’ll cry where Luke can’t see.

And Tony?

He’ll stay in the lab.

Just like always.

---

The papers arrive three days later.

You hold them in your hands, the weight of them heavier than any suit Tony’s ever built. You don’t cry. Not yet. There’s a strange numbness in your chest, like your heart already knew this was coming long before your mind caught up.

You find Tony in the kitchen, staring blankly at a cup of coffee he hasn’t touched. He looks up when you enter, and his eyes drop to the folder in your hands. His face goes pale.

"You really meant it," he says quietly.

You set the papers on the counter between you. "I did."

Tony doesn’t touch them. Just stares like they might burn him. "I know I screwed up. I know I—" His voice cracks. "But I don’t want this."

"Then why did you make it so easy?" The words come out harsher than you meant, sharp with months of bottled-up hurt.

Tony flinches. He looks down at his hands—the hands that built empires, that saved the world, that couldn’t hold onto his own family. "I thought I had more time."

"You didn’t," you whisper. "That’s the whole point, Tony. Time was the one thing you never gave us."

The silence that follows is suffocating.

Finally, Tony takes a shaky breath. "If this is what you need… I won’t stop you." His voice is raw. "But Luke—"

"He’ll still be yours," you say, softer now. "I’d never keep him from you. But he deserves better than waiting for a dad who never shows up."

Tony nods, jaw clenched like he’s fighting tears.

Explaining it to Luke is harder.

You wait until after breakfast, when he’s curled up on the couch with Rex, still in his pajamas. You sit beside him, running a hand through his messy hair.

"Baby, remember how we talked about maybe living somewhere new? Just you and me?"

Luke nods, clutching his dinosaur tighter. "No Daddy?"

"Daddy will still see you lots," you say carefully. "But we’re going to have a new house. Just us."

Luke is quiet for a long moment. Then, in a small voice: "Daddy not gonna come to my new house either?"

Your breath catches. "He’ll try, baby. But if he doesn’t… it’s not your fault. Okay? It’s never your fault."

Luke sniffles, pressing his face into Rex’s fur. "I wanna stay here."

You pull him into your lap, holding him tight. "I know, bug. But Mama needs this. We need this."

He doesn’t understand. Not really. But he wraps his little arms around your neck and holds on like he trusts you to fix it—even though you can’t.

Tony signs the papers that night.

He doesn’t fight. Doesn’t argue. Just stares at the divorce decree for a long, silent moment before picking up the pen.

When he hands it back to you, his fingers brush yours—just for a second—and his voice is barely above a whisper.

"Tell Luke… tell him I’m sorry."

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat.

And just like that, it’s over.

The fairy tale. The dream. The man who loved you but couldn’t choose you.

You walk away, clutching the papers to your chest.

This time, Tony doesn’t call you back.

---

The apartment is smaller. Quieter.

No lab humming beneath your feet. No JARVIS announcing Tony’s arrivals and departures. Just the sound of Luke’s toys scattered across the living room floor and the soft tapping of your laptop keys as you work from home.

It’s strange, this new life. But slowly, it starts to feel like yours.

Luke adjusts faster than you expected. He loves his new room—painted blue, with glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling—and the park down the street where he can run without FRIDAY reminding him not to scuff the floors. But sometimes, when the doorbell rings, he still perks up.

“Daddy?” he’ll ask, hope flickering in his big brown eyes.

Sometimes, it is Tony.

(Other times, it’s just the mailman.

Luke stops asking after a while.)

Tony’s visits are… inconsistent.

He shows up for the park one Saturday, sunglasses hiding tired eyes, and Luke sprints to him, nearly tripping over his own feet. Tony catches him, swinging him up into a hug, and for a moment, it’s like nothing changed.

But then Luke tugs on his sleeve. “Daddy, you stay for dinner?”

Tony hesitates. Glances at you.

You don’t say no.

(You should say no.)

But the way Luke’s face lights up when Tony nods is enough to make you bite your tongue.

Dinner is awkward. Tony tries too hard, asking Luke about preschool, about his toys, like he’s cramming for a test on his own son’s life. Luke doesn’t notice, babbling excitedly about his new dinosaur book.

When Tony leaves, Luke waves until the elevator doors close. Then he turns to you, grinning. “Daddy remembered!”

Your heart cracks a little.

Because it shouldn’t be a surprise when his father shows up.

Other times, Tony forgets.

Luke sits by the window in his tiny dinosaur backpack, waiting. And waiting.

“Maybe Daddy’s saving people,” he says after an hour, kicking his feet against the couch.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Maybe, baby.”

(You checked the news. There are no emergencies. No crises. Just Tony in his lab, ignoring the world.)

You take Luke to the park yourself. He doesn’t mention Tony again that day.

One night, as you tuck Luke into bed, he looks up at you with those too-old eyes.

“Mama?”

“Yeah, bug?”

He fiddles with Rex’s tail. “Daddy loves me?”

The question knocks the air from your lungs.

“Oh, baby.” You gather him close, pressing a kiss to his hair. “Daddy loves you so much. He’s just… bad at showing it sometimes.”

Luke nods, like he’s turning the words over in his head. Then, softly: “You show it enough for both.”

You hold him tighter, blinking back tears.

Maybe this isn’t the life you dreamed of.

But it’s yours. And you’ll make sure Luke never doubts he’s loved.

Not for a single second.

maybe it's not what you hoped for...but I hope you like it <3

[witchyverse]

All Systems Off

Pairing: Tony Stark × Reader Word Count: ~5.2k Warnings: Overworking, soft caretaking, stubborn Tony, kisses, fluff, mentions of insomnia, implied established relationship, sarcasm, domestic comfort Summary: Tony Stark has a bad habit of disappearing into the lab for days at a time. You have a worse habit of loving him enough to drag him out—every time. He doesn’t make it easy. But then again, neither do you. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The lab looked like a war zone.

Scratch that. The lab smelled like a war zone—burnt wiring, energy residue, and whatever the hell Tony had poured into his mug six hours ago.

You stood in the doorway in silence, watching him mutter to himself while adjusting the same component for the fifth time.

He hadn’t slept. You could tell by the slump in his shoulders and the fact that he was still wearing the same t-shirt from yesterday—wrinkled, inside out, with a streak of oil across the chest.

“You know,” you called, leaning against the doorframe, “there are easier ways to die than slow-cooking your own spinal cord over a workbench.”

Tony didn’t look up.

“I’m ignoring you on purpose,” he said.

“Sweetheart, I know. I just enjoy being a thorn in your side.”

He huffed, which you decided was his version of a greeting.

You crossed the room slowly, eyeing the mountain of tools, scrap metal, and three half-finished gauntlets scattered around his station.

“Whatever this is,” you said, poking the glowing circuit board with one finger, “it can wait.”

“No, it can’t,” he replied, snatching it away like you were some kind of hardware bandit. “This is delicate. It’s balancing plasma and kinetic regulation. You don’t just walk away from it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You also don’t just sit here for eighteen hours straight like you’re made of pure caffeine and bad decisions.”

“I am,” he muttered, then pointed a small screwdriver at you. “Don’t test me.”

You plucked it from his hand. “Okay, that’s enough.”

“I wasn’t finished—”

“You’re never finished,” you said, setting the tool down and folding your arms. “But that doesn’t mean you get to wreck yourself in the process.”

He leaned back in his chair and finally looked at you—hair messy, eyes tired, stubble catching the lab light. And yet, still stupidly handsome.

“You worry too much,” he said.

“And you don’t worry enough.”

He gave you a lazy grin. “That’s what makes us work, babe. You panic, I deflect—it’s a system.”

You stepped closer and leaned down, palms braced on either side of his chair.

“That system ends tonight. Come upstairs.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I’m a genius in the middle of a breakthrough—”

“You’re a man in the middle of a breakdown.”

He narrowed his eyes. “That was uncalled for.”

You raised a brow. “Was it, though?”

He stared at you for a second. “You’re really doing this, huh?”

“I brought the big guns,” you said, pulling his hoodie out from behind your back and holding it up. “Come upstairs, wear something warm, lay down for five minutes, and I promise I’ll let you tinker with your toys tomorrow.”

Tony crossed his arms. “You are manipulative.”

“Correct.”

“I don’t like it.”

“You love it.”

He squinted. “Five minutes?”

“Fifteen.”

“Ten.”

You smiled. “Deal.”

--------------------------------------------------------------

The tower was quiet when you got to the living room. You handed him the hoodie and watched with far too much fondness as he tugged it over his head.

It swallowed him whole. Not that he cared. He still looked unfairly good in it.

“I look ridiculous,” he muttered, flopping down on the couch.

“You look like someone I love who needs a nap.”

“That’s worse.”

You settled in next to him, and he immediately stretched out, head landing in your lap like gravity had made the choice for him.

You ran your fingers through his hair, gentle and rhythmic. He sighed, eyes fluttering shut.

“I hate how good this feels,” he mumbled.

“No, you don’t.”

“…Fine, I don’t. But I’m still not sleeping.”

“Sure,” you said, already smiling.

“I’m serious.”

“Mmhmm.”

He went quiet for a beat.

Then, softer: “I don’t know how to turn my brain off.”

You looked down, your hand pausing in his hair. “You don’t have to. Just let me be the volume knob.”

He laughed under his breath. “That’s the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said.”

“You liked it.”

“Unfortunately.”

You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his temple. “I’ll always be here to turn down the noise.”

He looked up at you, lashes low, smile barely there.

“You’re dangerously close to earning a forehead kiss.”

You grinned. “Bring it.”

He reached up lazily and kissed your forehead, then let his hand fall over your arm.

His voice was quieter now. “You know you’re the only person I let pull me out of the lab, right?”

You brushed his hair back from his face. “I know.”

“Because I trust you.”

You froze, just a little. He never said that out loud.

“I know,” you said again, but gentler this time.

He closed his eyes.

You let the silence hold for a while. Just the two of you. The city below. His breathing evening out.

Then—

“You’re gonna fall asleep,” you whispered.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I’m thinking.”

“About what?”

“…How lucky I am.”

You blinked.

Then leaned down, just enough to kiss the bridge of his nose. “You’re soft when you’re tired.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” he murmured, already half-asleep again.

“Secrets safe with me, Iron Man.”

He didn’t respond.

And for the first time in days, he didn’t move. Didn’t reach for his tablet. Didn’t flinch at the silence.

He just stayed there, curled into you, hoodie sleeves too long, mouth parted slightly in sleep.

You rested your head back and closed your eyes, one hand still in his hair.

And for once, everything was quiet.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Finer Things 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, age gap, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your mom surprises you with a visit but has a lot more in store than you could ever imagine.

Characters: Tony Stark

Note: Another sexy silverfox.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Thor loves thunder. Take care. 💖

“It will be so good to see you, honey,” you mom’s buoyant voice rings in your ear drum and you move the cell away from your ear. You make a face and catch the eyes of passerby, cringing at yourself as you veer away from the coed and continue towards your residence. 

“You too, mom,” you reply as you keep to the edge of the walk, sure to keep out of the way of students and faculty alike. 

“I have a surprise too!” She rings out. 

“Mm, you do?” You frown. The last time she had a surprise, it wasn’t really for you. Her trip to the Caribbean had you alone for your sixteenth but that was like five years ago. 

Your eyes skim the rustic colours of the curling leaves as wind whips around the collar of your coat. You plug your other hear so you can hear her voice. 

“Oh yes! It’s all really exciting. Just make sure you wear something fancy. I looked up a few local spots and this one looks very upscale,” she trills. 

That’s your mom. She spends more than she should, or has. If she had access to your trust, you wouldn’t have tuition. It’s just another part of your life that makes you feel helpless. 

“Alright, I’m sure I have something...” 

“What about all those clothes I gave you when I cleaned out my closet?” She preens. 

“Mom, I couldn’t fit them in my suitcase.” You don’t mention that you didn’t fit into them either. Your short and rounder than her. 

“Do you need money? I could send you my credit card number... one of them.” 

“It’s fine. I’ll find something,” you assure her and dodge out of the way of a group of frats. You feel so invisible. It’s like no matter what you do, no one sees you, even standing right in front of them. “I should go. It’s windy.” 

“Okay, I guess you can go,” she whines. “But I’ll see you tonight. Oh, I’ll send you the address too. Should I send an uber?” 

“Mom, please, my tuition includes a bus pass--” 

“The bus? Oh, at night?” 

“Mom,” you grit again. “Please. I’ll get there. See ya then.” 

“Alright, alright. I love you. Buh-bye.”  

You hang up and tuck your phone away, keeping your hands in your pockets as the tails of your coat flap with another chilly gust. You slope your shoulders against the autumnal temperate and hide your cheeks against your scarf. You love this time of year for the apple cider and pumpkin everything but the weather isn’t always so pleasant. 

As you get to your building, you look up at the windows. There are signs decrying the latest political frenzy and flags with varying shades of rainbow, and some stickers stuck on the panes. Your own window is barren. Just like you, your living quarters are plain. 

You let yourself in through the front door with a flash of your fob and drag your feet up the stairs. Gabourey is in the kitchen on speaker phone. You often fall asleep listening to her conversations, though you try hard not to. Racquel would be working down at the bookstore, and most times you wonder where Virgie is, she’s in her room napping. 

Your entry goes unnoticed. You hide in your dorm and put your bag on the chair by the desk. You untie your boots and carry them back to the mat. Too late, you already soaked the small patch of carpet between your bed and the desk. 

You toss your coat on your bed and go to the wooden armoire next to the sink in the corner. It isn’t much space but it’s yours. You open the doors and stare down the garments hanging inside. You favour plaid, tweed, and muted colours. The plum turtleneck would go nice with your circle skirt but it feels so stuffy. Your mom said fancy, not uptight. 

Hm. A classic black dress. Everyone has one. Even you. It’s simple. A wrap with a bow at the hip. It emphasizes your curves but doesn’t make you look bigger. You can put a necklace on with it and fight your hair for some semblance of presentability. 

It doesn’t matter much anyway, it’s just your mom. You don’t really care what other people think. She’s the one so hung up on appearances. You’ll just enjoy the free meal, if her card isn’t declined. 

💎

Your mom texts as you shove your wallet in your purse. You put your glasses on over your fresh coat of mascara and read her message. ‘Uber on it’s way for you.’ 

You huff and key in your message, ‘mom, I told you not to worry.’ 

She sees it but doesn’t answer. She never listens to anyone. Ever. It’s why you haven’t seen your own grandparents since your graduation. What a lovely day that was. 

You shrug and grab your coat. Oh well. No use in arguing now. With how quick the app is, the driver’s probably right outside. Besides, you weren’t exactly looking forward to waiting for the bus in the bitter cold. 

As you come downstairs, you get another text. In the chat, you find a screenshot of your mom’s phone, but that’s not her phone number on the confirmation screen. Or yours. Hm. 

You match the license play before you approach the car. You get in and greet the driver. He doesn’t answer you. Wow, you’re in his back seat and you still can’t get a hello. Or maybe the music’s too loud. 

You clutch your bag in your lap and watch out the window. The tension rises to an awkward strangle and when at last you reach the restaurant, you thank him. He turns down the music before you can get the door open. 

“Thanks for the tip, lady,” he says brightly. “Awesome!” 

You smile and bid him ‘you’re welcome’, rather than correcting him. Even if it’s undeserved, you’ll take it. Your mom must already have ordered some wine. Her statement must be close to its limit. 

You get out and look up at the curvy cursive of the restaurant sign. It’s fancy for sure. You cross the pavement and enter warily. You might just convince her to go somewhere else. Somewhere affordable. 

You stand around in the lobby and stare at the hostess as her eyes cling to the tablet on her podium. She taps around on the screen and ignores you. Is she? Or does she just not know you’re there? You clear your throat and step up. 

“Um, hi, I’m meeting someone here. I think they’ve arrived but, er, yeah,” you grip your phone tight, “Joyce.” 

“Joyce,” she squints and checks her screen. You give your last name but she still can’t find it. 

“One second,” you back up as a couple enters and you pull up the chat. 

You frantically text your mom; ‘I’m here but they don’t have your name.’ 

The checkmark goes blue but she doesn’t answer. The bubble doesn’t even pop up to show she’s typing. Your stomach swirls and you look around. The couple is shown into the dining room by a server as the hostess looks at you. You can feel her judgement. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” a man appears in a suit, “I think my guest is here. Young thing--” 

The man pauses and you look up. Your heart picks up in recognition. It’s him. Tony Stark. The Tony Stark. Billionaire, engineer, generous donour to the university. He smirks at you. 

“There she is,” he heads for you and you shake your head. 

“Oh no, not me--” 

He says your name and you choke on your tongue. You touch your collar and shake your head. He chuckles. 

“Sorry, did I scare ya?” He beams at you. “Your mom’s holding the table.” 

“My mom--” you stammer. 

“Come on.” He beckons you with his hand, the flash of his expensive  

“Mr. Stark, did you need anything for the table?” The hostess asks. 

“I’m good, sweetheart,” he winks and keeps his arm extended to you. 

“Alright, well if you do, ask for Chelsea.” 

He laughs again and waves you close. You walk to him in shock. 

“Actually, Chelsea, her coat,” he says. 

He surprises you as he unbuttons your jacket himself. You just stand there. He pushes it back on your shoulders and you squeak. You turn to let him free your arms and he hands the wool over to the hostess. 

“There we go,” he purrs. 

You step away and cross your arms defensively. He bends his elbow and looks at you expectantly, “come on.” 

You hesitate but step forward. He grabs your wrist before you can react and hooks your arm through his. You still can’t believe it’s him. Or that he’s there with your mom. This is her surprise? How the hell does she wander into these things? 

You let him lead you into the dining room. Despite the lingering nip of the fall in your cheek, sweat forms on the back of your neck and speckles your scalp. You look around and find at least a dozen pairs of eyes watching you in turn. 

Stark leads you to a booth where your mom wiggles on the bench. She shimmies out from behind it and throws her arms up. Your escort releases you, brushing between your hand and your skirt, and your mom wraps you up in a hug. She rocks you with a squeal. 

“Honey! I missed you.” 

“Mom,” you groan. 

“Joyce, please, give the girl a moment,” Stark chuckles, “come on, let’s settle in. I’m getting a bit peckish.” 

You eagerly take his lead. You nod as your mom lets you go and you keep your eyes on the table. You slide in next to your mom as she sits. 

“Wine?” Stark offers as he lifts the bottle already on the table. 

“Erm, I don’t--” 

“She’d love some,” your mom answers, “don’t let me have all of that or I might regret it in the morning.” 

You force a smile at her joke. The undertone gives you an ick but you ignore it. Stark pours the glass. 

“We haven’t formally been introduced,” he says as he plunks the bottle down, “Tony Stark.” 

“Mr. Stark,” you take his hand as he offers it and shake it, “nice to meet you.” 

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he slithers the cliche and squeezes your hand before letting go. 

You retract and cradle your fingers in your lap. You’re burning with surprise and confusion still. You glance at your mom. 

“Your mom says you came straight from school, smartie pants,” he grins. “I’m honoured you came all this way.” 

“Um, not that far.” 

“You go to Keating,” he prompts. 

“Yes, er, you spoke there--” 

“I did,” he agrees quickly. “Back in the fall. You were there?” 

“Um, ha, yeah,” you twist your fist around your finger. “I-- It was busy, you probably don’t remember but me and my roommate came to the meet and greet. She got your signature.” 

“Oh, she did? But you didn’t?” 

“Erm, no, I didn’t have VIP,” you show your teeth sheepishly, “sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he waves off your apology. “You get a whole night with me.” 

Your mother giggles and puts her hand on his arm, “so, you like your surprise?” 

“Uh, surprise?” You echo thinly. “Sure, uh... I... feel like I’m crashing.” 

“Not at all.” Stark insists. 

“Thanks, Mr. Stark, er--” 

“Please, it’s Tony,” he says. “My father’s Mr. Stark and he’s a jackass at that.” 

You laugh, more nervous than amused. Your mom rubs his arm and leans into him, “you’re so funny, Ton.” 

“So I’ve been told,” he agrees but his eyes don’t leave you. 

You shift and peer around the restaurant. You already feel out of place here but with him, you’re even more uncertain. A clink brings your attention back to the table. 

“Come on, let’s loosen up,” he taps his glass against yours, “cheers.” 

“Cheers!” Your mother quickly scoops up her glass and knocks it against his. 

His smirk stays etched in his lips as he sips and you pick up your glass. You drink cautiously and squirm under his intense gaze. You wish he’d look away. Look at her! She’s the one you’re here for. 

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Our Christmas | Christmas Special 2024

PAIRING || Fiancé! Tony Stark x Fiancée! Female! Reader

WORDCOUNT || 7.6K

SUMMARY || You've been working on preparing the best Christmas celebration you have ever had with the Avengers and other loved ones, and tonight is the night that all your hard work will come to life. From a delicious dinner to the most fun game of Secret Santa you've ever seen, it will surely be a night that will go down in history as one to never forget.

RATING || Explicit (E)

WARNINGS/TAGS || Established relationship, former sugar relationship, age gap romance, lots of domestic fluff, lots of PDA, use of mistletoe, explicit sexual content.

SMUT || Teasing, hickeys/lovebites, quickie, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), fingering, spanking, hair pulling, cream pie, biting, begging, dirty talk, breeding kink, pregnancy kink.

A/N || Merry Christmas! I'm incredibly grateful for everything that my time on Tumblr has brought me this past year, and I'm happy to be able to share my stories with you all, too. I also want to give my special thanks and love to my best friend and the person I love the most on this earth - @ccbsrmsf1. I love you bestie, thank you for everything you have done for me this past year! 🤍

EVENTS @anyfandomfluffbingo || Edible underwear @fandom-free-bingo Book Night || (Catching) fire @fandom-free-bingo Pride || Queer cat parent @fandom-free-bingo Pride || Free space + “Be gay, do crime.”

@fictionaldelightsbingo Under The Sea || Finding safety at their lovers side + Free space + Gift exchange @julybreakbingo Post-JBB || Found family + “We shouldn’t do this.” @seasonaldelightsbingo Sweater Season || Cookies @tonystarkbingo Round 8 || Marriage

All the graphics are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

Main Masterlist || Tony Stark || Sugar Daddy! Tony Stark

“Can you hand me that ornament?” you ask your fiancé, Tony, as you’re standing on a step stool to decorate the Christmas tree in the communal living room you share with the Avengers. You might as well have been talking to a ghost because he is much busier ogling you than he is with paying attention to what he’s supposed to do until you snap him out of it.

“Tony, hey! My ornament, please?” You snap your fingers a couple of times in front of his face, a chuckle audible as he shakes his head to return to reality. He had drifted off into a daydream when he saw some skin on your back as your Christmas sweater had lifted, and he immediately thought back to the way his fingers grazed that spot earlier today as he had you bent over on the bed.

“I- uhm, sorry,” he says shyly, reaching for the red and gold ornament you’ve asked him twice for. His cheeks are flushed with a deep red color, making him look adorable as you take the ornament from his hand, your fingers brushing past one another as you do. Your lips curl into a smile as you take a moment to take in the sight before you - a shy Tony whose cheeks have turned redder than ever before, all because he got caught in the middle of a daydream.

“It’s okay, Handsome. Just don’t let it happen again, okay?” A wink follows your words, and Tony nods before quickly turning around and grabbing two more ornaments for you to use. Your two cats, Sun and Moon, are napping in one of the countless cat beds you have strewn all over your penthouse and communal living spaces, and he melts a little at the sight.

“Aren’t they adorable like this?” You come down from your step stool as you stand beside your fiancé. He hums in approval, and you two stand there for a few more moments before you grab one of the ornaments from his hands and return to decorating the tree because there’s still much to do before your Secret Santa tonight.

“Do you want to help me bake the cookies once this is done? I want to make a few different kinds, and I think they-” motioning at your cats “-will be napping for a while longer. She doesn’t need another bottle until dinner either, so I think it might be fun to make some Christmas cookies together.”

“Hmm, there’s nothing else I would love more than to help you, Sugar,” Tony says as he comes to stand behind you, his hand lying on your ass as he does.

“Can you two keep your hands to yourselves? Not everyone wants to see you two touching each other like that every time they walk into a room,” a familiar voice says. You laugh loudly, and Tony doesn’t move his hand as he turns his head.

“Careful, or I’ll tell Laura you’re staring at us while we’re having an intimate moment!” Tony quips back at Clint, who picked up one of his arrows that stayed behind after cleaning them earlier. The archer flips him off with a chuckle before leaving you two to what you were doing. You have gotten rather close with all of the Avengers, and it isn’t uncommon for Clint to call you two out during moments like this, but you don’t mind because you know it comes from a place of love.

After one more squeeze, Tony lets go of you to grab the last ornaments needed to finish decorating. When you’re done, you take a step back to admire your hard work in full. You feel your fiancé’s hands slipping onto your waist and his chest pressing against your back, and a flutter of butterflies goes wild in your stomach at the closeness.

“You did an amazing job as always, Sugar. ‘M so proud of you!” His words are emphasized by a few soft kisses on your head that have you smiling wide. As you’re standing here together, you take a moment to bask in the closeness, and Tony can’t help but do the same as he nuzzles his nose into your hair, your sweetly scented shampoo reminding him of some amazing things you’ve shared.

“I love you, Tony, but we’re on a bit of a tight schedule, so it’s time to bake cookies now!” you let him know, and he chuckles before letting you go, his cheeks still showing the flush from earlier when you turn around. Your hands cup his cheeks before standing on your tiptoes and kissing the tip of his nose, which warms his cheeks under your fingers.

“I love you too, Sugar. Thank you for brightening my days,” he whispers, and you smile at him before letting go and making your way to the kitchen. Tony gently picks up the bed that Sun and Moon are lying on. They don’t seem to be disturbed as he takes them to the kitchen where you’re getting some supplies ready, and the oven is already preheating.

Over the next two and a half hours, you and Tony spend some much-needed quality time in the kitchen - from preparing the different kinds of cookie dough to cutting them out, baking and decorating them, it’s like you two are a well oiled machine with the way you two are going at it.

“Ready for the last batch to go in?” you ask Tony as he’s finishing a few sugar cookies that are being piped to look like snowflakes. Never in a million years would you have guessed that someone like him would be good at decorating cookies, but in hindsight, you’re not surprised at all - he has very skilled hands after all.

“Absolutely! And when they’re in, I think it’s time we take a small break until they’re done!” The enthusiasm with which he says it has you raising your eyebrow in a questioning way, though you also can’t help but melt a little at how excited he is at the thought of taking a break with you.

“It’s not like I could every say no to you and your cute face,” you tell him with a chuckle, which makes a dark red flush appear on his cheeks. While he has the art of complimenting you down to perfection, he still has a long way to go when it comes to receiving compliments, and you can’t help but look at him in awe when he turns into the shy boy you’ve come to know and love, too.

As soon as the cookies are in the oven, Tony guides you to sit on the bit of space on the counter that he cleared. He steps between your legs before pulling you towards the edge.

“Much better,” he murmurs with a small smile before trailing some kisses over your jaw and down your neck, his teeth sometimes nipping at your sensitive spots as you moan only loud enough for the two of you to hear. His fingers dig into your thighs while yours are tugging gently on his chocolate brown locks, the moment making it feel like you’re floating and going to heaven.

“Tony,” you moan softly, his lips curling into a smirk as he nips at your jaw. Your entire body feels like it is on fire from the time he spent leaving his marks. Unfortunately, the moment is rudely interrupted by the dinging of the oven, letting you know that your last batch of gingerbread cookies is ready to be taken out.

As soon as your fiancé steps away, you feel like a piece of you is missing, and the room has turned significantly colder without him being this close to you. Thankfully, you don’t have to wait long for his return because as soon as the cookies are on the cooling rac, he’s back in his original spot, his hands now cupping your cheeks.

“Have I told you that you look beautiful today?” Even though it’s a relatively straightforward question, you can’t help but feel like your entire body is catching fire as he asks it. From the top of your head to the tips of your toes, every last bit feels like it’s blushing as you try to hide your face in his neck, but to no avail - he won’t let you hide that easily.

“Oh no, there’s no hiding from me, Sugar! Now that you’ve said yes to marrying me, I will tell you even more how much I love you and how beautiful you are. So I suggest you better get used to it while you can.” The smirk on his lips makes you melt in his hold, and you lean forward to kiss his lips gently. It’s followed by a kiss on the tip of your nose, and then Tony steps back, ready to help you off the counter.

As soon as your legs are steady again, Tony kisses your head, making you smile like an idiot, before turning around to get ready to do some more decorating of the cookies. Tonight, you’ll be doing Secret Santa with the Avengers and tasked to ensure there are plenty of snacks for everyone, and baking for them is a love language you’ll happily indulge in.

“If you continue the sugar cookies, I’ll do these gingerbread cookies while Sun’s bottle is warming up, okay? I saw she’s awake again, so I think I’m giving her an early bottle today,” you tell Tony, who wholeheartedly agrees. Soon after, the bottle for your kitten, Sun, is warming while she and Moon are playing with a toy already in their cat bed, making the most adorable of noises as they do.

Once all the cookies are done, you let out a sigh of relief as you look at them, pride flowing through your body as Tony places his hands on your shoulders while standing behind you. Neither of you can stop smiling as you let yourself melt into his touch for a moment, the warmth of his body welcomed more than ever.

“I’ll get our blanket ready if you get her bottle, okay? Then we can maybe watch a movie as we cuddle with our babies,” Tony offers, and you happily agree with his idea. Once you’re on the couch - both your and Tony’s legs are covered by a large blanket, Moon is in Tony’s arms, and Sun is in yours as she drinks from her bottle of milk - you feel a moment of peace come over you as you put your head on your husband-to-be’s shoulder.

“Where do you want to get married?” Tony asks, and for a moment, it’s completely silent. You’ve thought of many places where you could tie the knot, but lately, one place stands out when you think about it.

“Well, I have some thoughts, but you can always say no if you don’t want to do it, okay?” you ask, and he nods in agreement.

“It may sound silly, but ever since I proposed to you, I’ve been secretly doing some wedding planning on the side - nothing major, of course, just figuring out where I want to get married, what type of dress I like, things like that - and there’s one thing that I think will make our wedding day perfect. I’ve been going through many files and found out that your Mom and Dad got married in Italy, and I think it would be a beautiful honor to get married in the same place as them.”

Tony’s mouth is slightly agape as he looks at you with an adoring look, tears forming at his waterline as he lets the news settle in that you’ve thought about getting married in the same place as his parents, even though you never had the chance to meet them. Your thumb wipes away some of the tears trickling down his cheek, and he nods enthusiastically as he doesn’t trust his voice right now.

“Without them getting married there, I never would have had the chance to get to know and fall in love with you, Tony, so I think there’s nothing more fitting than the beginning of our marriage to be in the same place as theirs. It resulted in you, after all,” you tell him with a chuckle. He laughs loudly as he wipes the tears from his cheeks. Moon has shifted from his lap to his chest to comfort him as well.

“It’s okay, Buddy, Daddy’s not sad. Mommy just made him so happy he couldn’t hold back his tears,” Tony says gently as he kisses Moon between his ears, who purrs audibly. Your mouth curls into a smile as you look at them, and Tony looks at you before leaning over and kissing your cheek. You’ve been thinking about it for months, and now that you’ve finally told Tony about your idea, you’re even more excited to say yes to him one day.

“What do you think I should wear to dinner?” you ask Tony, holding up two dress options. One is a stunning black off-shoulder dress highlighting all your curves, and the other is a low-cut red velvet dress with gold accessories. While he gifted you both options not too long ago, you’ve been indecisive about what to wear, and you’re hoping that his choosing for you will make it easier, though there isn’t really a choice. You already know which one he’ll pick between these two.

“Hmm, while I know you will look beautiful in both, I think I’m choosing the burgundy for tonight and the black one for when we go out for dinner on New Year’s Eve,” he offers, and your mouth curls into a smile as this is exactly what you anticipated would happen. If there’s one thing Tony loves, it is you dressing in his colors, and the excited flush on his cheeks makes him even cuter than he already is.

“Thank you,” you whisper before pecking him on the lips and turning around, leaving him breathless as he discovers you were hiding some deep red lingerie behind the dresses you showed him. The sway of your hips immediately has him wanting more of you, and he can’t help but follow, the belt he was putting on now being discarded on his way into the large walk-in closet.

Before you’ve had a chance to properly hang up the black dress and lie the red one down, you feel your fiancé’s hands gently digging into your hips, his lips already on the sensitive spot in your neck as he groans softly, his pants growing tighter by the second.

“You’re such a little tease tonight, huh? First, showing me the red dress, knowing full well that’s the one I’d pick, and then revealing you’re only wearing some of your sluttiest lingerie for me? You’ve been serving yourself on a pretty platter for me to enjoy, right?”

His words come out in a breathy voice, his rapidly hardening length already poking against your lower back as your head falls to the side, giving him all the access he wants while your chest rises and falls quicker as your heart rate and breathing are faster than before.

“Tony, we- we shouldn’t do this right now,” you say with a giggle, as he’s already moving to unbutton his pants with one hand, his other hand kneading your breast as he looks over your shoulder at what he’s doing. He hums as an answer, knowing you want this just as much as he does right now. As your eyes slip shut, you can hear the distinct sound of the zipper being pulled down, which elicits a soft moan from you.

“Is that so? Well, I think that if I were to slip my fingers in your lacey little panties, your sweet pussy would tell me something different,” he says, and without missing a beat, he does exactly that. Your legs spread a little to make room for the thickness of his digits sliding through your soaked folds, an excited hum audible as he takes his time to play with your sensitive clit.

“Please!” The word comes out in a soft whine, your head falling against his shoulder as Tony’s cock throbs in excitement, his hand wrapped around it as he gently strokes himself. Without warning, he bends you over the large dresser that’s in the middle of the closet, your ass being beautifully exposed as he does. With the hand that’s now free, he lands two loud slaps on your ass, that have you moaning loudly.

“That’s it, moan for me like a good slut,” he encourages you before pulling your panties to the side and sliding his tip into your tight pussy, still well aware of the fact that even though you two don’t have much time, he doesn’t want to hurt you by giving you more than you can take, either. With clenched teeth, he takes the time to stretch you, your mind slowly going blank as you grab onto the dresser’s edge as he does.

“Such a perfect girl, letting Daddy fuck her whenever his dick gets hard from you walking around like this.”

A brutal pace follows the words as he bends himself over your back, his hand being placed on your throat without squeezing, giving him enough leverage to fuck you senseless. Your moans turn louder and louder with every thrust, his thickness sliding in and out effortlessly as your pussy gushes around him constantly. As your orgasm quickly builds, you grab Tony’s hair to pull on it, which is followed by him biting down on your shoulder while the pleasure builds rapidly.

“D-Daddy, fuck- I’m c-close!” you tell him, your words barely audible as the pleasure is taking over every fiber of your being, your blood feeling like lava inside your veins as the pleasure takes you under until you’re clenching down on your fiancé’s cock, which is followed by his orgasm as he cums deep inside you with a loud groan of your name.

“Take it, fucking take my cum- You’ll get so fucking pregnant tonight, I’m sure of it,” he groans as he’s panting above you, a small layer of sweat on your skin as you’re coming down from your high. For a moment, you cannot say a single thing as you’re shaking and trembling in your future husband’s hold, his cock still nestled deep inside you despite him having gone soft and being overly sensitive.

“I love you, my sweet, beautiful, and amazing Sugar,” he whispers as he kisses the sensitive bite mark he left on your shoulder - it’s not enough to have drawn blood. Still, it definitely will bruise, and you’ll wear his mark with pride as you’re having dinner with the Avengers and all the others soon. With a dopey smile on your face, you get back up before putting your panties back in place, ensuring Tony’s cum will stay nestled inside you for as long as possible.

“Will you help zip me up, Handsome?” you ask Tony not long after you’ve slipped into the dress, though it took you quite some time to finally regain your composure without trembling on your legs like a baby deer. He’d done a real number on you and your body when he took you like he couldn’t wait any longer, but you wouldn’t change it for the world, especially after seeing his fucked out face when he tried to get himself looking decent again.

“Hmm, I’d rather help you get it off, not on,” his words followed by a chuckle as you roll your eyes at his comment, but he still does what you asked. As you take a moment to smooth out the fabric of your dress while looking at yourself in the mirror, he stands behind you, one of his hands sliding from your hip to your belly as he crosses your gaze.

“You’ll be the most beautiful woman ever when you carry my baby.” The words come out as more of a whisper, but they still set your cheeks on fire as you cover his large hand with your significantly smaller one. There’s a comfortable silence between you two as you bask in the closeness and the thought that Tony has thought about the way you look while pregnant. You two have discussed babies before but haven’t ever gotten too deep into it, so while it isn’t a huge surprise, it still makes your heart beat faster from excitement.

After a few more moments together, it’s finally time for you and Tony to go to the communal kitchen, where the dining table has already been set, and the private chefs Tony hired to prepare a delicious Christmas dinner have been working hard to make your evening unforgettable. However, before you two can head there, he has a small surprise for you.

“It might be a bit silly, but I hung up a surprise for us in the living room,” Tony tells you, his cheeks slightly red as he confesses to his actions. While you have a feeling you know what he did, you still go and check it out to be sure - and your hunch was correct. In your favorite spot - in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan - is a mistletoe, which makes you smile broadly. While it might be a simple gesture to most people, it’s a massive one to you as you stand underneath it, your hand outstretched for him to join.

“It appears a mistletoe has suddenly appeared, so it’s only fitting we honor the tradition that comes with it,” you say. Tony smiles brightly as he steps in front of you, his fingers intertwining with yours before he ducks his head slightly, kissing your lips softly, making the world around you feel like it’s fading. There’s nothing other than you and Tony, your lips on his, and your souls connecting right now.

You two are only pulled from your moment when you feel a familiar feeling against your leg as your cat Moon pushes his body against it, wanting some attention, too. He follows it with a few soft meows, and you can’t help but smile as you pull away from your fiancé’s lips. Your black cat, Moon, is known for interrupting moments like this when he feels like getting attention, and he’s too spoiled not to do it, seeing how you give in every time.

“I believe someone else might want some attention, too, don’t you, Moon?” You ask as you let your hand glide over his back, a soft purr audible as you do. Tony takes a step back to admire how you interact because even though he prefers to be with Tony most of the time, he also loves getting attention from you, and you’re more than happy to give it to him every time he asks for it. Your mind flashes back to when you first rescued him when he was a little kitten, and he has come from far to be where he is now - a spoiled, well-loved cat with all his heart desires and more.

“Shall we take you and your little sister to dinner with us? Maybe Bucky will bring Miss Alpine too, and all three of you can have some fun, too,” you ask, and Moon immediately meows in response. He always brings a smile to your face, making you fall in love with him more every day as you look at him and the cat he has become since you rescued him a few years ago.

“Let’s head to the kitchen, Sugar. I’m starting to get hungry after you’ve worn me out the way you did,” your fiancé says with a small smile, though you both know it was him who wore you out when he fucked you the way he did not too long ago. Still, you happily agree before taking his hand and leading him to the elevator, Moon following closely behind.

While you open the elevator doors, Tony picks up a cat bed from the couch, where Sun is napping. Moon is patiently waiting for his Dad to join you both. Your face splits into an excited smile as soon as he comes into sight, and as usual, your happiness cannot be contained as you look at how handsome he looks in his black suit. He often wears suits for work, but something about him wearing all black has you squeezing your thighs in excitement.

He pecks your lips softly as the elevator doors close, and soon, you find yourself getting the last things ready in the dining room, which is already lavishly decorated with every last bit of Christmas decoration known to man. Just as you’re about to light the last few candles on the table, you’re suddenly stopped by your best friend and Avenger, Natasha, as she puts a hand on your shoulder.

“I know you two have a thing for marking one another, but this…” Natasha says with a small smirk. “...I approve,” she follows with a wink, making your cheeks set on fire as she examined the bite mark Tony left earlier. It’s less red than before, but the bruising is already starting to happen, making it more evident than you thought. You still wear it with pride, showing your commitment to the man you love. It also gives you a mental note to mark him up like this at some point so he can walk around wearing your marks, too.

Once everything is ready, everyone slowly shows up. Steve and Bucky come in wearing simple black-and-white suits, their fingers intertwined, while Bucky carries Alpine in his free arm. Clint and Laura walk in looking beautiful in their matching purple dress and suit. Thor and Loki are dressed in the finest Asgardian clothing, making them look out of this world, and Bruce and Natasha have gone for classic black.

“Can I have everyone’s attention?” Tony asks as he stands up, the conversations between everyone slowly dying down before there’s nothing but silence - apart from the soft purring audible from the three cats that are having the time of their life during this Christmas dinner with all the attention they’re getting.

“I want to thank you all for being here tonight because it wouldn’t have been as fun if some of you were missing. If there is one thing that the past year has taught me, it’s nothing more important than being with the people you love, and I’m happy to see you all. Everyone here tonight has a special place in my heart, and I’m happy to say you’re all part of my big, found family. None of us would be here tonight without one another,” he says with a slight smile, and everyone agrees.

“One thing I don’t say nearly enough times is that even though some of us may have had our differences before, I love you all deeply. And I love the furry babies - Sun, Moon, and Alpine, too. They brighten everyone’s days in ways they’re probably unaware of, but they are playing a big role in our lives, and I can’t get enough of their silly moments.”

“But there’s one person who I want to mention especially. Without her, I wouldn’t have been able to believe I was worthy of being loved, and I wouldn’t have been able to love myself. Sugar, I cannot thank you enough for showing me every day what it is like to be loved and being with me throughout everything we’ve been through. It’s surely not been easy, but without you, I wouldn’t have gotten through it at all, and I’m thankful that you’re the love of my life. You have made me believe in love again, and I cannot wait to marry you in a few months. I love you,” he finishes his little speech, which has brought tears to your eyes as you smile up at your future husband.

“I love you too, Tony,” you whisper before getting up and kissing him, sealing his words with a promise of loving him for the rest of your lives together. He may be quite a few years older than you, but you’re still looking forward to spending your best years with him as you grow your family. And you know he’ll look very handsome as a silver fox. Applause slowly erupts around the table when you two pull each other into a tight embrace, and there is not a single dry eye in the room when you’re sitting down again, ready to finish dinner before getting ready for Secret Santa.

Once everyone is done having dinner, it’s finally time for the main event of the evening: a gift exchange in the form of Secret Santa. Everyone is spread out on different colored loveseats brought in from any place anyone could think of, ample chairs, and the floor around the fireplace, which burns in the communal living room area. There’s a comfortable atmosphere as everyone sips on a drink and converses until Tony grabs everyone’s attention again, wanting to get started.

“So, it’s only right that the first person to give their gift away will be this beautiful woman next to me, as she has graciously put this evening together for everyone. Will you do the honors, Sugar?” Tony asks softly. You nod before pecking him on the lips and getting up. The present is wrapped in a cylindrical package and topped with a large purple bow.

“Merry Christmas, Clint,” you say as you hand him the present, but you can’t get too far as he pulls you in for a hug while murmuring his thanks to you. With a large smile, you walk back to the loveseat you and Tony share before getting comfortable with his arm wrapped around your shoulder. Once seated, he kisses your cheek before looking at Clint, who’s quickly unwrapping his present.

“Oh my god-” is all he can bring out before he’s out of his seat and running over to you, pulling you in a hug while you’re still half in Tony’s hold. He uttered about a hundred thank yous as you two hugged. You have thought of the perfect gift, so make a mental note to thank Shuri when you speak to her again. When he finally lets you go, he cannot stop smiling as he looks at the Vibranium arrows he received from you, which were specially made by Shuri. He’s wanted some for a long time, and these will be perfect for taking on missions with him.

“Okay, now it’s my turn! Here you go,” he says to Bucky, who’s sitting one seat over. After a small thank you, he takes the tissue paper out of the bag he’s been given and pulls out two presents that make him laugh and nod in approval. He receives a mug with the text ‘Queer cat parent,’ as well as a shirt that reads ‘Be gay, do crime.’ It’s like they were made just for him.

After gently putting the presents to the side, he grabs a small package wrapped in black and gold paper and hands it to his oldest friend—other than Steve, of course—Natasha. She takes her time opening it, and when she finally does, she gasps loudly as she examines the set of custom Vibranium knives that Bucky has gifted her. The blades are of different lengths and all black, while the handles are deep red, resembling blood.

“I- wow. Thank you, Bucky,” she says as her cheeks turn dark red. While she would have been happy with any other type of knife, too, something about these has her appreciating him even more than she already did. They match her black widow aesthetic beautifully, and she’s either looking at them or doing tricks with them the rest of the night, showing off her expert knife skills.

“Before I give my gift away, I need to thank someone very special. Tony, thank you for helping me out with this present because, without you, I still would have been deciding what to give. You’re the best friend anyone could wish for, and Detka, you’re a pretty lucky lady with a man like yours,” she tells you, and then grabs her significantly sized gift from the pile in the middle of the circle you’re all sitting in.

“Merry Christmas!” Natasha practically drops the gift in Bruce’s lap because it is so heavy, a loud huff audible as it lands on his thighs. His glasses slide down his nose, and he quickly slides them back up before tearing the wrapping paper off to find a collection of science books he’s been dreaming of for years.

“I know you don’t like to spend money on yourself, so Tony figured it would be the perfect present-” is all she can say before her words are cut off with a kiss - it might not be the first one they’ve ever shared, but it is the first one they’re sharing in front of everyone. Other than you - Natasha told you as soon as they became official - no one knew that they’ve been secretly dating for a few months now, and tonight is the night they’re finally coming out with their secret, even if it wasn’t planned this way.

As you look at them with a smirk, Tony pulls you closer to him before whispering, “You knew about this, didn’t you?” With the same smirk on your face, you turn to him as you nod proudly, as you want nothing more than to see your best friend happy and in love. Then, when all the excitement in the room died down, it was Bruce’s turn to gift his present, and he got a beautiful pair of diamond earrings for Laura after Clint recommended that he get some.

“They’re lovely, Bruce. Thank you so much,” she says shyly, a blush on her cheeks as she takes in their beauty, almost forgetting that it’s now her turn to give someone their present. It turns out that now it is Tony’s turn, and he would never in a million years have been able to prepare for the gift he has gotten. Inside the bag is a set of edible underwear for you and him to enjoy as an engagement present, as well as two Santa hats - one for him and one for Moon - and a brooch with a matching tie pin in the form of a Sun, so you two can always carry your little girl close to your heart.

It doesn’t take long for Tony to put on the Santa hat and the one meant for Moon, even if he isn’t the biggest fan. Eventually, he warms up to the idea. Happily, he returns to his cuddle pile with Alpine and Sun while wearing it, which means everyone takes countless photos of the inseparable trio.

“Now that you’re wearing the Santa hat, does that mean I get to sit on your lap tonight and tell you what I want for Christmas?” you ask as you gently rake your nails over his chest, making goosebumps appear all over his body. He quickly nods in approval, not trusting the words that’ll come out of his mouth if he opens it. Then, as most drinks are now empty, you and Tony offer to fill up some drinks, and he quickly pulls you out of the room to get away for a moment.

“Tony?” you say as you’re in the kitchen, waiting for him to grab a few cartons of egg nog. He pokes his head around the fridge to look at you, his Santa hat swinging as he does. You smile as you look at his adorable expression.

“I know I asked you if I could tell you what I want for Christmas, but I already have everything and more right in front of me. I have an amazing future husband who takes care of every need and two amazing cats that are the light of my life,” you say, and Tony blushes deeply as you tell him. He’s still getting used to you saying things like this, even after being together for as long as you two have now.

“Aren’t you just the sweetest little thing?” he asks before closing the fridge door and walking over to where you’re standing. He leans in to kiss you softly, taking your breath away as he does. It’s a sweet, loving kiss that has your heart beating faster and the butterflies in your mind go wild. While you’re unsure if it’s possible, you love him even more than you did before, and his sweet words will melt your heart every time.

When he pulls away, you’re both standing there with wide grins on your faces, wanting the moment to last just a little longer as you intertwine your fingers with his.

“I love you so much, Tony. Thank you for choosing me every single day.”

“Thank you for being with me through my good and bad days. I love you more than I can ever describe.” His words make tears gather in your eyes as he pulls you in for a hug, sealing his words until it’s finally time to head back.

Before heading back to the gift exchange, you grab a few cartons of egg nog to ensure there is enough for everyone, and it is divided rapidly among everyone, allowing you to sit on the couch again. Tony pulls you to his side, where your fiancé feels safest. He knows he can always find safety at your side, and the ease with which he sinks into your body shows it.

“So, uhm- My turn?” Tony asks as he rakes his fingers through his dark brown locks, and everyone hums in agreement. He gets up with a small gift, but you know exactly what’s inside as you smile broadly. Thor is the recipient this time, and as he rips open the package, he finds a silver necklace with a thunder pendant on it and a voucher for a lifetime supply of his favorite pop-tarts.

“You two are the best, thank you!” he says, his Australian accent thickening as the night progresses. When he gets tired, it always gets more noticeable, and it never fails to make you smile. It’s Thor’s turn to give the gift he has gotten, and it is Steve’s turn to open it. Inside is an extensive palette of the most beautiful paints you have ever seen, and Steve can’t stop smiling as he examines every color with a careful eye.

“Thank you, Thor. These are amazing! I can’t wait to get some use out of them as I finish the portrait of Bucky I’ve been working on!” Steve says proudly, though his partner is less impressed as he turns bright red, knowing that Steve is working on a nude portrait of Bucky. Still, he smiles as he looks at the colors, too, and they’re some of the brightest, most beautiful colors he has ever seen.

“At this point, only two people are left to receive a gift, and I’m sorry to say you’ll have to wait a little longer, Y/N!” Steve says as he hands Loki a square package, which he graciously accepts. You smile in appreciation at Steve’s words, though you don’t mind being last because you enjoy everyone else opening their presents just as much as you love opening them yourself.

As Loki gently opens the package, he finds a large, handmade cloak with an emerald green lining, a black outside, and a beautiful pattern of swirls in thin gold thread. The clasp that keeps it closed is gold, which matches his other garments beautifully. He immediately tries it on, getting many nods and words of approval as the gold detailing shimmers in the light coming from the fireplace and Christmas tree lights.

“Now, I hope that I will have saved the best for last,” Loki says as he gifts you a square gift wrapped with emerald green paper, letting you know exactly who it came from.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he says as you take it from him, the anticipation nearly becoming too much as you’re excited to see what is inside. Once you open it, you immediately gasp at the sight. Inside is a customized stethoscope that has your initials on it, but instead of the initial of your maiden name, it’s an ‘S’ for Stark because you’ll soon be Mrs. Stark, of course.

“I am speechless,” you say as you pick it up to examine it closer, the silver shining back at you as you fight the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. It doesn’t often happen that someone gives you such a thoughtful gift, but it warms your heart to know Loki had it made for you to use in the long run, as it’ll proudly show the initial of Tony’s last name.

“Thank you, Loki. It means a lot that you got me this,” you say as you get up to hug him, too, wanting to give him an extra special thank you. He then whispers another Merry Christmas before letting you go and sitting back down, the stethoscope proudly hanging around your neck. Once everyone has opened their gifts, it’s time to thoroughly check them out until it’s time for everyone to call it a night and head to bed.

As soon as you’re back in your penthouse with Sun and Moon - vast asleep in their cat tower - Tony pulls you to the bedroom to get some much-needed cuddles. The past few days have been nothing but stress and running around to get everything ready on time, but now that you have had a successful Christmas dinner and Secret Santa, you can finally breathe a sigh of relief.

“I think I’m going to sleep the entire day tomorrow because I’m not getting up for anything or anyone after the days I’ve had,” you say with a chuckle as you take off the dress you’re wearing. Once you’re left in your lingerie, Tony unhooks the bra before you let it fall to the floor and walk over to the dresser, where you have your comfortable cotton panties, together with Tony’s shirts, waiting for you.

“Hmm, as long as you’ll be awake long enough for me to gift you one last present tomorrow, then we’re all good,” he says with a chuckle before disappearing into the en-suite bathroom, ready to do his nighttime routine. You follow shortly after, wearing nothing more than the panties and Tony’s shirt you picked out, ready to brush your teeth and call it a night.

“I think I’ll be able to manage that. But I don’t want to be awake before 10 AM, okay? A girl deserves to sleep in now and again.” He looks at you through your mirror, and you smile as he raises a brow in response. Still, he wouldn’t dare go against your wishes because he is always willing to give you everything you’ve ever asked for, and if sleeping in until 10 AM is what you want, then that’s what you’ll get.

Once you’re finally in bed and tucked away under the soft sheets, you quickly fall asleep with your future husband against your back, his large hand splayed over your belly and his face buried in your neck. The following day, Tony is up bright and early again, but he won’t wake you up before 10 AM, just like you asked, instead going to the kitchen to do some meal prep for you and the two long shifts you have ahead of you before New Year’s Eve, as well as making breakfast.

Then, at precisely the time you mentioned, Tony wakes you up as the smell of pancakes and coffee fills the air, and the sheets feel tighter by your feet, which means Sun and Moon have joined the two of you.

“Good morning, Sugar. It’s 10 AM, and I have one more surprise for you,” he says. You smile before nodding and getting comfortable in bed, your back against the headboard as a pillow supports your lower back. Soon, Tony is back on his side of the bed, with a present in his hand wrapped in gold and red wrapping paper, just like the colors of his Iron Man suit. After a whispered thank you, you quickly unwrap it to find a golden necklace with three charms. There’s a red ‘T,’ a small black Moon to represent your oldest cat, and an orange Sun to represent your kitten.

“Sadly, we can’t be together all the time due to me being gone for long missions sometimes, and you are working long shifts as the best surgeon SHIELD has ever known, but this way, you can carry us wherever you go, Sugar.”

“Tony… I love it. Thank you so much,” you say as your fingers glide over the beautiful charms, complementing each other perfectly. He has thought this gift through to the last little detail, and it’s the best present he has given you - apart from your engagement ring, of course. You lean in for a few kisses, his facial hair tickling your skin as he does, but you can’t stop smiling while holding the present.

“Would you like for me to put it on you?” You immediately nod, and it doesn’t take long for him to have the clasp closed, making it official. You’ll always be able to carry your husband-to-be and your cats with you, no matter where you’re going. While your Christmas was fantastic, it has become the perfect holiday. Now, you can finally look forward to being spoiled by your fiancé on New Year’s Eve, as it promises to be one never to forget.

[ozwriterchick]

Back to Us - Chapter 2

Summary: Y'/n wakes after an accident to her Avengers team-mates. But something isn't quite right and only Steve and Tony can see it.

Characters/Relationships: Steve Rogers x Reader; Tony Stark; Natasha Romanoff; Other Avengers Characters

Content warnings: Mentions of an accident (no details yet); If I missed any, let me know

Back to Us Masterlist

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Word count: 1142 (approx.)

Tony & Steve stood close together outside the hospital room in silence for a few minutes.

“So, that was strange, right Tony?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, I noticed somethings she said earlier too.  I think she’s got some kind of amnesia.  Let’s let the Doc do his tests and I’ll come back later this afternoon and talk to him to see what is going on.”

Back in the hospital room, the Doctor pulls a chair up and sits beside your bedside.  “Ok, let’s talk some more.  You’ve been in a coma for 10 days.  We’re going to send you off for an MRI, draw some blood and check the basics first and just make sure everything’s working the way it should. How does that sound?”

Y/n smiles at him tiredly “I’m getting really tired but I’ll try and stay awake for all the tests”

“Well, the MRI you’ll need to stay awake for cause there’ll be certain breathing exercises you’ll need to do during it, but that will all be told to you when you get to the imaging department.  And apart from that, we can always work around your naps, because you definitely need to rest as well.”

Later that day, you are back in your room after the first lot of tests have been completed.  Napping on and off while waiting for the next test and the results of the ones they have already completed.

The doctor comes into the room again with the computer that shows him the test results.  “Well, all of it looks good Y/n.  I can’t see anything concerning on the MRI and the blood tests have come back fine as well, so it looks like no permanent damage.”

“Well, that’s great news Doc” you said.

“Let’s do some memory test questions, okay?” As the Doctor asks this, Tony walks back into the room.

“Sorry doc, I just couldn’t stay away, but it looks like I got here just in time for the good stuff.  Hey Y/n, how are you feeling this afternoon?” he asked.

“Really tired tony.  But Doc has just said that the MRI and other tests have come back fine.  And hopefully if these memory questions go well, I can go home?” you look at the Doctor hopefully.

“Okay, first question – what is today’s date and do you know where you are?” the Doctor begins.

“Today is May 15th and I’m at Stark County Hospital” you proudly answer.

“Great, what is your full name, date of birth and parents names?” the doctor continues.

You smile because these are all easy questions in your opinion. “Easy.  My name is Y/fn Y/ln, Date of birth 22 June, my parents are Y/mn & Y/dn Y/ln”

“Alright, here comes the big one.  What is the last thing you remember before waking up here?”

“Well, I think I remember an impact, but I’m not sure if that’s a trick of my brain because I’ve been told there was an accident.  I do remember Steve, I mean Captain Rogers, Bucky, Nat and I were heading to a Hydra facility in Romania cause we had intel that there were some hostages being held there.”

“We split up, Nat and Cap went to the West and Bucky and I went to the East to make sure there weren’t any goons over and above the ones we anticipated would be guarding the facility.  Bucky and I dealt with the ones on our side and entered the building, clearing floors as we went.”

“We met Nat & Cap in the centre of the main floor, agreed they’d go up to the higher floors and Bucky and I would go down to the lower floors as we thought that’s likely where they’d hold the hostages.  The last thing I remember is being on maybe the 3rd floor down and entering a room with at least 6 people chained up to the walls, in cells.  Bucky started ripping the cell doors off their hinges so we could get into them, then there was a beeping and that’s about it. “

“Like I said, I think there was an explosion, but I’m not really sure if that’s just cause, you know..” you finished.

“Ok, get some more rest and I’ll be back later to see how you are.” The Doctor told you.  You nodded at him and Tony and closed your eyes.

“I’ll be right back Y/n” Tony smiles at you and you smile back, drifting into sleep.

Tony quickly caught up to the Doctor.  “Hey doc, so, what’s the latest?  That was particularly concerning to me?”

“She seems fine, there’s nothing wrong with any of her results.  What’s concerning you Tony?” he enquired.

“Well, that Hydra incident she says is the last thing she remembers, that was 4 years ago.  I was a bit worried today cause she didn’t seem to remember a few things, but this is the icing on the cake.” Tony conveyed his concern to your doctor.

“Hmmmm, well, I guess we’ll run some more tests and I’ll keep you posted.” The Doctor told Tony, also showing some concern now that he knew this further information.

Over the next couple of days, the doctor and his team ran further tests, but couldn’t work out why you were missing the memories, except for the bump on your head.

Tony and the doctor decided it was time to tell you so they sat down with you on the day you were to be discharged.

“So Y/n” the doctor began “We’ve run a whole heap of tests and everything looks great, however there is one thing we need to let you know.”

“Oh. “you were concerned that there was something that looked ok but wasn’t. “Alright, lay it on me.”

Tony took over “The other day when you first woke up you said a few things that concerned Steve and I.  Then when the doctor was doing the memory test questions, you mentioned the Hydra mission in Romania as the last thing you remembered.”

“Right, that was my last conscious memory that I can recall.” You said.

“Yeah, well the thing is…” Tony started “that mission was not the last mission you went on.”

“Oh, so there’s another mission in the middle that I don’t remember?  How much time am I missing” you can’t think of how long ago it was but surely it was only a few days or a week or two.

“You know what, let’s just leave it at a gap in your memories for now?” Tony asked.

“And we shouldn’t force anything, the more you force this kind of thing, the more the brain can subconsciously rebel against remembering.  We need the memories to come back naturally to give you the best chance of having full recollection of whatever is missing.”

You sat back and wondered just how much you were missing.

Tag List: @wolfbeanpotion @vioplay19 @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @crazyunsexycool @zaraomarrogers @bitchy-bi-trash

[winterspiderpurrs]

Tony takes a long sip of his coffee as he eyes the domestic scene before him.

Bucky was cutting up some plums, Morgan; just 4 years old sitting at the counter top, a grilled cheese in one hand and an Captain America action figure in the other. You know the one. Where Steve was in his old suit riding a motorcycle.

"You know, I blame your influence on our daughter. I'm IRON MAN, yet she only wants to wear Spiderman shirts and play with Captain America dolls"

Bucky snorts, glancing up over at Morgan Rebecca Barnes Stark, he smiles a little as she moves the wheels of the bike across the table, making motorcycle sounds.

" I think she just likes the bike. But we could always take them away if you want? You can explain to Uncle Peter why his favorite niece isn't wearing her favorite shirt he got her."

" - But I'm Uncle Peters only niece Tate!"

" I know chipmunk."

Bucky slides the plate of cut up plums over to where Morgan is sitting before turning to look over at Tony.

Tony rolls his eyes.

" I know I know! I guess it can stay.... By the way have your heard from Peter lately? He hasn't been down to the lab in about two weeks."

" You would know more then me when it comes to him. Want me to make french toast for you?"

Bucky changes the topic. He doesn't want to lie to Tony. But omitting at least a few more days would be okay. Long enough for Steve to stop being a coward. He starts making Tony breakfast as he thinks back to a week ago.

Steve had come over just after Tony had left for a meeting, and he had put Morgan down for her nap.

" Hey Punk, whats been go-"

"I kissed Peter"

Bucky blinked and stared at Steve, trying to think back to when this developed. Then he thought about how Tony was going to feel about Steve putting moves on someone who is basically his kid.

" Okay. And then what happened?"

"I don't know I ... your not... mad?"

"Well that depends, did you force yourself on him?"

"No! I would never do that, to Peter or anyone else. Come on Buck. I'm serious here."

"Me to. Peter is Tony's kid, which mean he is like a....stepson...ish to me. So if you didn't force yourself on him, how did he react?"

"He kissed me back. And then asked me out to eat Indian."

"Okay. And what did you say?"

They stared at each other for a moment before Bucky sighed.

" You ran straight here in panic didn't you?"

"What was I suppose to do! I didn't realize I liked him! We were just sitting there going over the last mission, he made some type of joke and it was over my head but he was so delighted with himself, that smile on his face... I... Just kissed him. And he asked me to dinner and then I thought about Tony and... God. I don't need another thing for him to hold against me."

"Well.. considering he married his parents killer, I think you making out with Peter is forgivable"

"Bucky!"

"I'm just saying! Look Stevie. Just TALK to Peter. Let him know dating is serious for you. In it for the long haul. End game Marriage. If he just wants to get his rocks off, no biggie. But if you are wanting more you gotta tell him let him know. And if he WANTS to see where it goes... THEN you can talk to Tony."

"I.. Don't know if I can handle the spice of Indian food"

"Pretty sure Peter can help you order something Punk. Let me know how it goes. Start the buttering up early."

Bucky flips the bread over in the pan and smirks a little as he hears the door to the main floor open.

"Babe, I know like Tony is practically like my dad but you aren't asking me hand in marriage here."

"Yet"

"Okay... YET but we can just break it to him easy. Just a simple "Hey Mr. Stark! I just wanted to let you know that Steve and I got to know each other and we decided, like the adults we are, that we are gonna date. See simple as that!"

Tony spits out his coffee.

"YOUR DATING CAPSICLE!?"

"Uncle Peter! Uncle Steve!"

"Tony..."

" Hi! Princess! "

[innorogers]

Vigil

Steve Rogers x Reader (You / OFC)

Summary: For a man who has faced down gods, monsters, the end of the universe, this kind of fear is new to him. It’s not the enemy outside he fears—it’s the thought of losing you, of failing to protect you. Again.

Warning: Mention of sex / Fluff & Angst / Protective Steve / Jealous Steve /

Characters: OC, Tony Stark, Maria Hill, Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson, Sharon Carter, Natasha Romanoff / John Walker

Also: Thanks in advance for repost or any feedback ❤️ Let me know if you want to be included in the taglist (DM, comment, repost and tag, whatever works)❤️ You don't need to read the previous chapters but it will definitely enhance the experience if you do.

1: Insomnia | 2: Lucid | 3: Reverie | 4: Nightmare | 5: Awakening | 6: Dusk | 7: Hypnagogia | 8: Lull

It ended just as expected. Steve cummed twice in the shower—once in your mouth, because, damn, he tasted amazing after cleaning up, and again inside you, because you smelled just as irresistible with that jasmine scent in your hair.

So here you are, three cups of coffee later, and about to nap on your desk. The body Hydra gave you was strong, but you’ve been in a car chase, with the Iron Army hunting you down, fought in a nightclub, and probably had four or five rounds of sex with Steve. You honestly don’t know what was more exhausting. You’d guess the mission that had gone rogue, but honestly, the sex just left you breathless.

"Oh, rough night?" Robert handed you a fourth cup of coffee, eyeing the dark circles under your eyes. "Need the adrenaline shot?"

"Um…" You actually considered it for a moment. Your body metabolized stuff like that too fast, though—it would only last for a couple of hours, tops. "Nah, forget it.” You need your brain clear to process everything that happened. 

“I’ve heard…” Dr. Lin’s voice interrupted your thoughts as he leaned casually on your desk, his eyes scanning the room where your colleagues were clearly whispering about you. “That Captain America had quite the adventure yesterday. Right after leaving the UN, too.”

He tsked and pulled out his phone, showing you a few grainy clips. Footage from CCTVs and some shaky handhelds—probably from people who had their phones out at the right moment. “A broken bridge, streets on fire, and…a fight in a nightclub? You’re gonna need more than coffee to survive this shift, I think.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Too late for damage control, huh? Is it all over the news?” You could only imagine the hell Steve was going through with Commander Hill: ‘I gave you 1,278 security protocols, and you ignored them all?!’ Yeah, you weren’t setting foot in the command room today.

“Not quite all over the news yet—mostly social media.” Dr. Lin was clearly enjoying the UN’s PR disaster a bit too much. “I think they’re working overtime behind the scenes to sweep it under the rug. Captain America gets attacked his first time outside the compound during ‘The Reconciliation of the Century’? Yeah…someone’s having a bad day in PR.”

“Anyway…as I was saying…You’re gonna need more than coffee, we’ve got company today…”

“What? Company?” You were surprised. “They’re letting people in?!” After yesterday’s security breach?

“Seems the first New Era Project agent that the UN sent was a fraud or didn’t work. And since we visited them yesterday already, today, they’re sending some new guys.” Dr. Lin looked at you, lowering his glasses: “Yikes, right? So for today, we need to pretend we’re working. ‘Cause we’re not sharing our real stuff…which will make this day unbearable.”

Oh. You grimaced after Dr. Lin turned around and began “working.” Yeah, you knew everything about how the last agent went wrong. But actually, this ‘pretend to be working’ thing was good—you needed to analyze everything that had happened.

You opened a document connected to Tony’s hub and started typing, outlining the details for him in your usual style. (It was your private little system—documents stored in The Crib, or what the three of you called the ‘Geniuses’ Sticky Notes.’) You’d barely finished bullet point five when someone in a crisp military uniform appeared beside you, smiling next to your screen.

“Hi, Doctor—whose phone number is still confidential. Nice to see you again.” John Walker said smiling, quoting the line you’d once used to refuse giving him your number.

Oh dear Lord, he really should have taken a nap with you when he had the chance, instead of those three—no, four rounds of sex you had in the dressing room and the shower.

Steve thought after suppressing another yawn, trying to focus on the screen, where Thadeus Ross was losing his temper again, explaining why the UN had nothing to do with the attack he and you got yesterday.

But who was he kidding? Steve almost smiled. Nope, no way he’d have preferred the nap over the sex. That was exactly what he needed after being hard almost the entire afternoon. And four times weren’t enough—he would have gone on if you weren’t in the dressing room.

For fuck’s sake, when is this over? He couldn’t wait to get back to your private lab-slash-home, have a light dinner, and get in bed with you.

Oh, that’s a nice thought: a sex marathon for the weekend is all he needs after this hellish week. He started thinking of your intertwined bodies, your begging moans that sounded like heaven... Yeah, okay, he needs to focus. Maybe listen to what the Secretary has to say instead of thinking about your messy hair, your heavy breath, your skin that felt like silky sweet milk, and your mouth... Yup, stop. Let’s hear Ross, so he doesn’t get hard again in the middle of a full meeting room.

He felt a glare on him, so he looked around and saw Agent Sharon Carter staring with her eyebrows raised, as if saying, “Gotcha, pay attention.” Steve suppressed a smile and looked down. Oh boy, this was going to be a long day.

“I thought your super friends were going to be attending this meeting too.” Once the screen was off, Sharon smiled at him while picking up the folders and files.

“Well... Hill and Sam are still in Fraser’s interrogation. Tony and Bruce are tracking back the security breach. Natasha and Clint took over my place in training since I’m busy with other things. So...”

Basically, what happened was that when Tony asked who would be taking this mission, everyone stepped back, and I was the only idiot at the front. Steve shook his head internally.

“In that case.” Sharon gave him the usual confident wink. “I’m glad. It’s been forever since we shared a mission.” She grinned. “Last time almost cost me my career.”

“Yeah...um...lucky, things sorted out on that one...” He was a little embarrassed but still grateful for Sharon’s help during the Civil War chaos.

“I’m kidding with you, okay?” Sharon teased. “It’s not like I almost got into federal prison or anything.” She sighed a little, lowering her voice: “Although, I wouldn’t have minded if I had to.” She said with a soft voice and a sparkle in her eyes, looking at Steve with sincerity, which made him stiffen.

“So, how have you been?” Steve nodded and asked with a polite smile, pressing the elevator button for her as they headed to the cafeteria floor. “How does it feel to be at the UN? I heard the benefits are better than the CIA, though unfortunately, you’ll need to deal with us again.”

"Ah, I don’t know what you're talking about," Sharon said with a wink, grinning playfully. "Every agent’s dream, right? Dealing with the Avengers, working alongside the great Captain America... even if, well, my boss would rather face another alien army than deal with the politics of this initiative."

“Well, that’d make two of us.” Steve chuckled, and opened the cafeteria door for her.

The hum of chatter and the clinking of dishes filled the air. The compound’s cafeteria was large, efficient, and—much to Steve’s relief—quiet at this time of day. It was near lunchtime, but still a little early for food service, so the air was full of a coffee’s aroma that lingered from breakfast. They got in line for coffee and a quick snack, and Sharon gave him a sideways glance, her expression teasing as she grabbed a sandwich.

“Oh wow, you guys have affogato as dessert? I could consider getting back to work with you guys just for your catering service.” Sharon said, breaking the brief silence as they moved along the counter.

“Well, if you consider that, I could make my best effort to get your agent’s number back.” Steve grinned, grabbing just a cup of coffee.

“Oh yes, lucky number, huh?” She stopped for a second as she laughed and said, “Remember that place we went to… Venice? What was it called, the best affogato in the world.”

“Benicio’s?” Steve nodded. “Yeah… it’s closed now. I mean, gone during the Blip, hopefully reopened now.”

“You didn’t have the affogato, though,” Sharon said with a playful hint in her voice. “Mr. ‘I don’t know how to relax since I got into a fight with Stark and we’re on the run.’”

“Hey, I was the international most wanted. I think it was okay for me just to stay out of the loop. Imagine if I got caught because of ice cream. That would’ve been…”

“Funny? Quite a story to tell? Best date I’ve ever had?” Sharon shrugged.

“...Embarrassing.” Steve said with a smile. “Or awkward, or even humiliating.”

Sharon shook her head and laughed. They found a table by the window, where sunlight poured in, and Steve took a seat across from her. He could see the curiosity in Sharon’s eyes, the slight hesitation before she spoke again.

“It really was, actually. One of my top three dates.” Her smile turned more serious, her voice low enough that only Steve could hear over the ambient noise. “Too bad it ended so… abruptly.”

Steve wanted to say, "We would never have made it too far", but he only sighed.

He didn’t want to dismiss her feelings, and he couldn’t deny that something had existed between them. It was brief, but also real. A shared history they couldn’t quite forget or ignore.

Sharon was strong, smart, and capable—someone he admired deeply and cared about. He appreciated her confidence and her courage, but that connection, though meaningful, was nothing compared to what he felt for you now.

That had been a stream. With you, it was tides, waves, the entire ocean.

“We made a good team.” Steve said with a smile, being honest and looking directly into her eyes.

Something about it made Sharon hold her breath. 

She could remember moments in the past when Steve had the same effect on her. He would just gaze at her, and her heartbeat would skip or beat too fast.

Maybe that’s why she hadn’t pushed harder when it didn’t work. If she had fallen, completely and madly, as she’d wanted to, the power he held over her would have been overwhelming.

She had risked her entire career just to help him, and they were… nothing. Just a kiss, just some kisses or dates. So what would have happened if they’d continued? She couldn’t imagine a life where she had so little discipline about her feelings, mind, or heart.

“I know.” Sharon spoke softly, still holding his gaze. She was taking a leap of faith now. Cause she couldn’t help to wonder—could it have worked?

What if…they gave it another chance? They didn’t have the menace of the universe’s destruction now, the chances of Steve (or her) being a fugitive again were none after Thanos, so what… what if…?

“But…” She began, but Steve suddenly turned as something caught his attention.

It was lunchtime, and the employees began to arrive at the cafeteria, you among them, with Dr. Lin at your right and John Walker at your left.

“Captain Walker, I really don’t need a date. I have a boyfriend, no, um… fiancé.” You said as you picked up a tray and started serving lunch on your plate, remembering how Steve just highlighted this morning that the ring was indeed, a ring.

“It’s John.” Said a very cheerful John Walker, who was not stepping back from asking you out, even though you had been determined and clear about your “NO”s and reasons.

“Well, does this fiancé have a name? And where’s the ring?” he said while picking lunch and placing food, walking backward with a gracious wink.

“OH MY GOD!” You and Dr. Lin said at the same time, your eyes widening as you noticed the ring was missing from your finger.

“Where’s the ring? D…did you lose the ring?!” Robert was panicking. Did you just lose the engagement ring Captain America gave you?!

“I don’t know, it was on my finger...” You were looking in your lab coat pockets and in your clothes.

“It’s a tracking device, equipped with the last of Stark technology, how...how can you lose a tracking device?!” Dr. Lin couldn’t believe it. 

“Your boyfriend put a tracking device on you?” John hmph'd with a laugh. “What a douchebag!” He put a hand on his chest. “I promise, I would never do such a manipulative, controlling freak thing to you.” He winked. “I’ll look out for other guys who come close, of course, but that’s another level of jerkiness. Ugh...a tracking device, what is he, a psychopath?”

“It’s an engagement ring,” you replied, frowning, though you didn’t think of giving out too much information to him. You thought back to the last time you saw the ring, which was before you took it off when you entered the UN HQ.

You pulled out your phone, wanting to send a message to Steve just to confirm.

Some strands of hair curved in front of you when you looked down, and John, who was standing in front of you, couldn’t help but stretch out his hand and brush them to your shoulder. His fingers ran through your hair, and his fingertips touched your ear as he accommodated it for you.

Before you could react, a loud crash echoed through the cafeteria, like the sound of a broken cup or mug.

Sharon stood in shock as Steve slammed his cup down so hard the porcelain shattered. His face was livid, veins bulging in his neck, and his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white.

He abruptly stood, the chair scraping loudly behind him, and stormed in your direction.

"I've got it, babe." Steve said. He didn’t miss a moment of the interaction and was at your side in an instant. He took your hand, his eyes locked on John Walker, and carefully slid the ring back onto your finger. “It was in the pocket of your gear.” 

Both captains exchanged tense, serious looks. You could feel the sparks fly between them as they made eye contact, and after a long moment, Steve finally smiled.

“I’m guessing you're here as a representative of the New Era’s Project, Captain Walker?” He said, placing a firm hand on your waist, his grip tightening slightly.

“Yes.” John replied with a polite but sneering smile.

“The knowledge exchanges from R&D have been…quite enlightening. I can’t wait to see what the best of your team has to offer…to me.” He said as he raised his jaw and tilted his head toward you. You could feel Steve’s body tense, like a bow stretched to its full capacity and ready to snap back.

"Take whatever gear or armory you want, Walker," Steve said in a cold, measured voice, as the entire cafeteria fell silent, all eyes locked on the tension between the two men.

"But the best of this compound is far beyond your reach. And don’t think for a second that you could ever put a finger on that." His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, teeth clenched. Touch my girl’s hair again, and I’ll cut your arm off.

"Steve." A calm voice cut through the tension as Commander Hill appeared at the doorway. She walked in with steady confidence. "We’ve got news. I need you and Dr. Lancaster in the Command Room."

Steve didn’t immediately move. His gaze lingered on Walker for a few more seconds, with unspoken warnings in his eyes. Then, without a word, he turned to you, gently taking your hand in his, and led you out of the cafeteria. The weight of Walker’s stare followed behind you both, but your focus stayed fixed on your fiance's figure.

No one spoke in the hallway as you walked toward the Command Room. You could see Steve’s rigid expression. He was pissed, his jaw tight, shoulders tense as if holding back more words.

But you were… well, trying your best to hide the curve of your lips. Just like he had back in the car when you sobbed that you’d go to Wakanda and talk to plants for the rest of your life if he ever left you to go back to his gorgeous ex.

Oh, so he was this jealous? Even a little possessive? He got this mad just because a guy touched your hair? Now, if Steve were any other guy, maybe this would seem like a giant red flag, but this was the love of your life, so…

You slid your hand into his palm, pressing your skin to his, and intertwined your fingers with his. 

Steve’s expression softened, and he looked at you, letting out a quiet sigh. He smiled when you mouthed, I love you.

Commander Hill, however, wasn’t in the mood for your lovebird moments. Her face remained stern as she waited for the door to close behind you, sealing the room.

"Agent Frazer was found dead this morning."

The words hung in the air like a punch to the gut. Steve’s hand tightened around yours as his expression shifted from softened warmth to immediate alertness.

You lowered your sight.

Somehow, you had a feeling this was coming anytime soon. It was weird, though. Agent Frazer was not your brother; he just pretended to be for some time (and then actually tried to brainwash slash attack you). But for a moment, you wished that had been true, that your brother was alive, even if he had been turned against you. So now he is dead, and you feel strangely sad.

Your way of dealing with it? Throw yourself into the facts.

“How?” you asked, almost mechanically. “Was it because… his neural synapses overloaded, triggering an energy surge that short-circuited his cerebral cortex in under a millisecond? Like… like someone or something… wired his brain to self-destruct?”

Maria’s eyes widened, and she gave a quick, silent nod.

Steve’s grip tightened, haunted by your words. At that moment, he panicked, cold sweat through his shirt, fear dominating his senses when the possibility of losing you suddenly struck hard in his mind. So, could anyone do that? Snap their fingers and cause you a brain dead? 

His body was merely processing under this thought. He felt the urge to hug you, to feel your warmth and heartbeat under his skin, to feel you entirely safe in his arms. But you were in the command room, so he didn’t move.

“Can we make sure that…” His voice trembled slightly. “What happened to Frazer…” doesn’t happen to you?

Commander Hill noted his panic, so she gave him some time to process.

“Oh no.” You noticed too, so you reassured him, squeezing his hand back: “That won’t happen to me. I’ve only been through one brainwash. It takes more than that—multiple processes, open surgery. And Hydra… they didn’t have the tech to pull it off. Not back then.”

“But…” Your mind raced ahead, piecing things together. “Whoever did this? They’re desperate.”

You rubbed your forehead, and as your hands dropped, Maria noticed it: that look on your face.

The same intense, calculating look Steve wore when he was seeing things no one else could—analyzing every possibility, tracing out the most brilliant, cunning plan, whether on a battlefield or at a table of white collars and power brokers.

“Jarvis, any chance Bruce and Tony are in the crib?” You needed to process your ideas, but you also needed someone who could remember everything you’d said.

“They are on their way here, Dr. Lancaster.” answered the A.I. “Crossing the elevator’s door at this moment.” said Jarvis as both entered the room.

“Please tell me you already have a preliminary conclusion?” said Tony, stepping into the room.

“Okay…” You stood in the middle, your mind moving faster than words as you started laying out the analysis.

“They have access to Hydra files—there’s no other way to explain it. Clearance levels that aren’t just high for regulars; files that were locked, or used to be locked, behind old S.H.I.E.L.D. encryption. And the remains of my file? Only a few could access those after Hydra was dismantled.”

Tony leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, tracking your every movement. Bruce sat at the edge of a table, hands loosely folded, but his furrowed brow betrayed his concern.

“So, leftover Hydra goons or former S.H.I.E.L.D. agents?” Tony asked. He didn't want to say it aloud, but there was also another possibility: a breach, here, inside the Avengers.

“Or both.” Steve raised an eyebrow. “Ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives who went dark when Hydra fell. People who know how to stay hidden but had deep ties to the old Hydra infrastructure.”

“Even if they had the files, they’d need money. A lot of it, if they’re working with the kind of tech that got into Frazer’s head.” Bruce said, swiping through the files on the screen.

“Yeah, this doesn’t sound like some underground merc group.” Maria said, standing beside him as she watched the files on the main screen.

“This is serious, billionaire-level investment. Whoever’s backing them has access to bleeding-edge tech. Retinal implants, memory manipulation… that’s not standard black-market operation. The kind of power they’re throwing around is something only the Avengers or S.H.I.E.L.D. had access to—the old S.H.I.E.L.D. when they were still around.”

“So, they’re gearing up for something big, or they’re hitting a wall. What are they trying to accomplish? Why use Frazer as a puppet?” Tony followed the line of thought.

You hesitated: “I think… They’re close to something. A breakthrough, maybe. Or…” You stopped and narrowed your eyes, thinking aloud. “Or they’re failing. Desperate. They’re making bold moves because they need something critical. And that something is… me.”

Steve’s expression shifted. His fingers locked onto yours, tightly.

“The attack was directed at you. Frazer was pretending to be your brother. And to confirm your existence.” Tony sighed, frustrated and feeling a pang of guilt. He hid you all these years, thinking you would be safe. He should have let you out of the New Eras Project. The Avengers had so many ways of detecting enemies without using your powers. Fuck, he should have listened to Steve when he warned him to let you out of the Project.

“Of the twelve of you, you’re the only one with… those powers.” Steve murmured, almost clenching his teeth. He felt the urge to hug you, as if you were going to disappear or vanish in the next second.

“And a success case.” You said, not wanting to scare him but knowing you all needed the entire picture. “The only survivor, the only… prototype. Still alive. In my body is the source code for why these experiments or creations worked.”

“Wait…” Tony’s glare was fixed on you. “If the endgame is to copy your ability… What could they even use that for?” But it was a self-answering conversation. He was just thinking aloud: “…a soldier who could walk into a building and identify every weak point before the first shot is fired. Or worse, detect something we’ve built to be undetectable.”

“Why stop there, Tony?” Maria’s expression was serious and cold. “Why would there be only one? Hydra made a dozen back then, and they didn’t even have half the tech we have now.”

Bruce frowned deeper, his voice low: “If they’re that close, then we’re on borrowed time. They’ve already brainwashed Frazer, and now they’re playing with neural implants and synaptic overrides.”

“Exactly.” You nodded. “And they are so desperate, they don’t care if we know they’re out there now, because they’re so close they can taste it. Once they succeed, they won’t even fear the Avengers’ powers anymore.”

Tony exhaled sharply, his glare cold. “So, they’re building something. A super soldier, or an army of them—enhanced with tech that would let them see through just about anything.”

“And they’re not far from getting there. But for now, I’m still the key to unlocking that power.”

The room went quiet for a moment as the weight of your words settled in.

“Well, isn’t that just fantastic.” Tony applauded, the whole thing giving him a headache. “We’ve got super soldiers with x-ray vision on the horizon. And they’ve got you in their crosshairs.”

“So basically, we need to see what triggered this sudden desperation.” Bruce leaned forward, and his mind began to analyze: “We could scan for energy centralization around the globe. Human creation needs vast electromagnetic fields to power high-level bioengineering, especially when manipulating neural pathways at this scale. We need to track when or where all this is happening. But…”

His voice was tense.

“I’ve got a feeling they’re at the door already. Because whatever they’re building… they’re almost done.”

The way back home was silent. You could feel the atmosphere heavy with unspoken tension. Steve hadn’t said much since you left the command room. His usual warmth and quiet strength seemed overshadowed by something deeper—fear and anxiety, clunging over him like a dark shadow, haunting him at his heels.

You wanted to speak, but your mind was processing too. You were trying to remember everything you knew about yourself and your siblings, every memory, every piece of paper you’d seen in Hydra labs, every layer of analysis they’d made you go through.

The ride home was silent, his jaw tight, his gaze fixed on the road, even your house slash lab was after all the securities protocols and protective layers Maria had put, he was still alert, as if there were something in the grass and trees of the compound that would attack anytime. You could feel the weight of his thoughts, pressing down like a storm waiting to break.

"Babe there's no need…" You said as Steve moved around the house once you've arrived.

He checked every window, every door, securing them with an almost obsessive care. He paused at the front door, his hand lingering on the lock as if it was the only thing standing between you and the threat he couldn’t control.

You watched him, knowing that this wasn’t just about protecting you—it was about the fear within him.

"Steve, I'm here." You stopped him. Placing your hand on his back: "I'm here. With you."

He turned to you, his face pale. His eyes were haunted, wide with the kind of fear you rarely saw in him. He’s worried.

No, not worried, he’s terrified.

Without a word, he pulls you into his arms, wrapping them tightly around you like you might disappear if he let go. His grip is firm, desperate, as trying to shield you from an invisible danger that only he can see.

His breath is uneven, and you can feel the tension radiating from him. For a man who has faced down gods, monsters, the end of the universe, this kind of fear is new to him. It’s not the enemy outside he fears—it’s the thought of losing you, of failing to protect you. Again.

You don’t say anything at first. Words won’t soothe him. So you just hold him back, resting your head against his chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart. Slowly, you lifted your hands to gently press them on his neck, cupping his face to make him look at you.

"I'm here. And we will be ok." You say softly.

These words made him tremble. Will you? How can you be sure? How could he know? What if…

He couldn’t imagine what he’d do if he lost you.

“I won’t let them take you.” He said, as a sacred oath, tatooed in his soul. “I’m going to set up more protocols.” He muttered, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression one of steely resolve beneath the worry. “More security. I’ll have Tony upgrade the system. I’ll have guards outside. I’ll—”

You stayed still in his arms, feeling the rawness of his fear. His body was tense, and you could feel the tremble in his muscles, the weight of his panic pressing against you. He wasn’t just holding you for comfort—he was holding you like you were the last solid thing in a world that was quickly unraveling.

“Steve,” you interrupted softly, placing a hand on his chest. “You can’t protect me from everything.”

His eyes locked onto yours. “I can try. And I will.”

"Babe…this is the Avengers compound. This is…the safest place on earth. Or even the universe."

"It took only one protocol. One permission. Approved by me." He said with teeth clenched. "I gave him clearance. One, to bring Frazer in front of you, I won't ever, ever let that happen again." He said with conviction, his expressions somber as he remembered everything you went through.

But beneath his determination, you could see the cracks: the anxiety gnawing away at him, the overwhelming fear that no matter what he did, it might not be enough.

"Steve…"

“You don’t understand…” His voice is strained, thick with the fear that he hasn’t been able to shake since the moment he realized you were being targeted. “I’ve seen too much. I’ve lost too many. If something happens to you—”

He pauses.

“I can’t lose you.” He whispered, his voice barely audible. He was a man made of iron will and conviction, but here he stood, vulnerable and raw, stripped bare of all his usual defenses.

“Hey, hey, hey…Listen.” You said, holding his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I’m here. Right here. I’m not going anywhere. I'm here, with you, I'm safe.”

He looks at you and feels a pang of pain to your innocent even naive words.

Safe? Were you safe when he was on the other side of the wall and couldn't do anything but watch as you almost fell under Frazer's brainwash? Were you safe when you pressed a tranquilizer to yourself?

The memory of you in his arms, unconcious and slipping away was so vivid.

His hands tightened around you again at that thought, his grip shaking slightly. “I just... I can’t stop thinking about it.” He admitted, his voice strained. “What if I can’t get to you in time? What if something happens and I’m not there? What if…”

“I can’t take that risk.” He mutters, more to himself than to you. “ I can't. I won’t let anything happen to you. Not again.”

You pull back just enough to look up at him, your hands resting on his chest. His blue eyes are filled with a vulnerability you’ve only seen in rare moments— when the weight of the world is too much, even for him.

“Steve.” You say soft but firmly: “We’ll get through this. Together.”

For a long moment, he just looks at you, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to find reassurance in the depths of your gaze. Slowly, he exhales, but he doesn’t let go. That deep-rooted terror of losing you, isn't going away anytime soon.

His arms remain wrapped around you, protective and unyielding, as though he’s made a silent vow that nothing—no person, no secret organization, no force on Earth or beyond—will ever take you away from him.

If only that could be true.

THE End but TBC

Continue to Chapter 10: Eclipse

Alright I'm SO SORRY I'm late!! 2 Full time jobs really is consuming me!! I hope you enjoyed it!! Sooooo I have a really serious question RN, could you doooo me the favor to lmk your thoughts!!

Tag list: @vioplay19 / @jamneuromain / @steviebbboi / @heletsmelovehim / @otterlycanadian / hisredheadedgoddess28

*can you let me know if I've missed anyone in the taglist? thanks <3

[spiderlinging]

WIP

“Shit! I mean—I’m sorry!” the frantic voice shouted at him as both men dropped to their knees to pick up all of the items that had fallen from the stranger crashing into the overfilled basket. Tony sighed in relief when he saw that the container of soup that was included in the parcel hadn’t spilled.

“I’m so sorry, I was just in a rush and I should’ve been paying more attention. I swear I’m not usually clum—” the younger man froze when the two of them finally looked at one another. “Mr. Stark,” he breathed out, deflating as if all the air had been wrung out of his lungs.

Tony thanked the universe for giving him the gift of observation so he could fully appreciate the view he was suddenly faced with. His eyes eagerly danced across each line of the boy’s face. A mess of curls sat atop his head that matched the warm tone of his wide, doe-like eyes. The pink parted lips complimented the rosiness of his cheeks that were darkening by the second.

Peter.

No, he didn’t know that. His face may have been beautiful, but it was unfamiliar and new to him. Plus, Amita had other neighbors. Like…umm…

Derek? He feels like there’s a Derek somewhere.

Regardless, his mind supplied him with the name Peter without a moment’s hesitation, almost as if it had a hand on a buzzer, eager to press the moment the opportunity arose. Memory of his conversation with Amita about Peter Parker had stayed locked behind its designated door since its inception. Now it had broken free and was causing mayhem followed by that same sinking feeling as before.

It made Tony uncomfortable not knowing things. And this was a mystery he had successfully hid until that moment.

Taking the items that Peter picked up from his hands, Tony continued to stare at the boy’s face. “Do I know you?” he asked skeptically.

After all, he did know Tony’s name.

Fuck, what was he thinking? That meant absolutely nothing. The whole world knew the name of Tony Stark. Babies emerged straight from the womb already pre-programmed knowing Tony Stark along with a plethora of future abhorrent Gen-B nomenclature.  He was fairly certain he had heard rumblings of a Stark religion picking up traction after his little resurrection deal, as if his ego needed it.

Point was, it would be stranger if the boy hadn’t recognized him. No, the name Mr. Stark had rolled so beautifully off his tongue without a moment hesitation. There was no hemming or hawing trying to play a game of “Name That Celebrity.”

Tony had never really had an authoritarian kink before, but god he could easily see that becoming a thing after hearing his name said like that. He idly thought about how the acoustics in his bedroom would perfectly amplify the sound of his name said in breathless ecstasy.

“I doubt it,” Peter (or whatever his name was) replied, snatching back Tony’s attention. The older man couldn’t help but notice the hint of cynicism in his response, leading him to  believe that they may have crossed paths in the past without Tony even realizing it. The number of baristas alone he hadn’t noticed over the years could easily fill a psychologist’s entire day with multiple group therapy sessions.

But had he missed that face? He would never claim that he noticed each and every attractive person in his proximity, but the likelihood is certainly up there.

Maybe it was years ago when “Peter” would have been walking jail bait. He may not have been a saint, but that was certainly a line he was not willing to toe. Despite his baby face, Tony clocked him to currently be in his early to mid-twenties. Unless they had encountered one another in the past 6 months since his return to the land of the living, there would have been 7 years he wasn’t around for, which would mean, prior to his dirt nap, the boy would have been—

Nope, he’s not doing that math.

“Sorry again—Hopefully I didn’t mess anything up with…that whole thing,” the neighbor gestured to the excessive amalgamation of cliché “Get Well Soon” trinkets haphazardly added back to the wicker basket. “Um—it was nice to meet you, sir,” he said bashfully before making a motion to continue down the steps.

“Wait,” Tony heard himself say, having no real plan prepared as to what words would come after. The boy stopped and waited, nervously readjusting the backpack that hung off his shoulder.

[shanastoryteller]

Merry Christmas Grandma!! Three faced goddess was so cool?!? I need to know what happens next!🎅🏻☃️

a continuations of 1 2

Tony thinks that it’s probably selfish of him (knows that it’s selfish of him) but he never wanted to be king.

It wasn’t even an option, really. Greg was so much older than him and hated him from the day he was born. He thought that a spare made him expendable and he’d always hated that, even though Tony was so clearly not planned.

He’d been right, in the end.

There should have been more of them, Tony should have grown up with plenty of siblings, because everyone says that the Starks rule by divine right and the lack of Starks really makes the devout nervous. But his mother had struggled to have Greg and ten years later they’d thought having Tony really would kill her.

Before the accident and he’d had a crown forced on his head, he’d thought that would be his real contribution to the kingdom. Marrying who he was told and having a half dozen or so kids to run through the castle so people would stop fretting.

Then he was the last Stark left alive and there was a war and even though he knew he had a duty to secure the line of succession, it just didn’t seem possible. Turning a foreign royal or one of his own ambitious nobles into a princess and mother of his children had sounded fine, had been something he’d discussed with Rhodey as they plotted and planned how to live their lives outside the constraints of propriety.

But making one of them his queen? Impossible.

He needs someone he can trust to rule, in case the worst should happen. He needs someone who he can trust to rule even if it shouldn’t, so he has the freedom to actually help with this war that he’s found himself in the middle of instead of staying safe and useless in the castle.

Rhodey could help manage his soldiers and plan their battles and would stay by his side every minute that he could, but Tony needed something more, something that he never would have needed if he’d simply stayed a prince.

He needed a wife he could trust.

He got so, so lucky with Pepper.

“I met your champion,” she says, curled into his side with her head on his chest. He always runs hot now with the star living under his skin. It’s a cold night but they’re only covered by a sheet, trapping the heat he gives off around them. “Very pretty.”

“Hey,” he says, but he’s smiling. “He is that. Does he seem like he’s doing okay? I feel bad having him fight so soon, but he insisted. I guess it’s familiar.”

“War is war,” she agrees. “Yes. He spoke fondly of you.”

He blinks down at her, perplexed. “He did?”

Pepper’s lips twitch. “Edward you. He did make a pointed comment about the king’s absence that I graciously ignored.”

He saw Steve literally two days ago! But he is missing some important information. “It’s not my fault I met him as Edward first! You know they found him at the edge of the North border and he literally fought his way through battle that was in his way? Who does that? If I showed up seventy years in the future I’d need a stiff drink and a nap before anything else not to jump into work.”

“You know he needs the distraction,” she says. He’s trying to work on that but it’s hard when there’s a literal war going on. When it’s over, they’ll all get a chance to rest. “You could tell him the truth.”

No one knows the truth, not all of it, except for Rhodey and Pepper. “He already worries about me too much – both as Edward and the Iron Mage. If he knows not only are they same person, but also the king he’s duty bound to serve and protect, it’ll make things complicated. Too many conflicting orders.”

“Yeah,” Pepper says, soft and teasing, “that will make things complicated.”

[amethystarachnid]

I know your requests are closed, but daaaamn, I need another part of "Forced Marriage" 😭😭😭😭😭 a late honeymoon, oh, to Italy, I love Italy 😭 and more of Tony being the cutest, sweetest and the most loving and devoted husband EVER!!!! 🤧 also, KIDS 🥹 what about twins? One of each? Let the girl dream 😭 but Tony taking care of a pregnant wife and dad!Tony is the best thing ever, especially yours 🩷🩷

Again, I know your requests are closed, I 100% respect that, don't mind me 🫠

FORCED MARRIAGE - part 2

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

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

ᯓ★ Genre romance, fluff and spicy

ᯓ★ Word count: 8.3k

ᯓ★ Summary:what the asks said lol

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing I think, just a little spicy scene

ᯓ★ Part 1

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

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

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

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

Italy is your idea, but Tony’s the one who makes it perfect.

He books everything before you can blink—private jet, villa in Tuscany, romantic dinners lined up for a week straight. “If we’re finally doing this,” he says, tossing you a smirk as he flips his phone shut, “we’re doing it the right way. No boardrooms, no cameras, no press. Just you and me.”

You glance at him over the top of your coffee mug. “So, no suitcases filled with arc reactors and gadgets?”

He lifts a brow. “I only packed one suit of armor, thank you very much.”

He’s joking—mostly—but the truth is, Tony’s been different. Since the gala, since that bathroom, since everything... he’s been present. He makes time. He listens. He loves you, openly and without shame, and you can feel it in everything he does. He doesn’t need to say it every day, though he does, in little ways:

In the way he brushes hair behind your ear without thinking.

In the way he sets an extra pillow where your knee gets sore sometimes.

In the way he kisses your shoulder in the morning and whispers, “Still here.”

The flight to Italy is quiet and calm. For once, neither of you needs to pretend. You fall asleep with your head on his shoulder, and when you wake up, he’s still holding your hand.

The villa he’s chosen is perched on a hillside, surrounded by vineyards and olive groves. The air smells like rosemary and warm stone and blooming flowers. The sky is impossibly blue.

You walk through the stone archway into the sun-drenched villa, and Tony whistles, impressed—even though he’s the one who bought the place for the week.

“Okay,” he says, dropping your bags inside the doorway. “I have a checklist.”

You give him a look. “A checklist? You?”

“Oh, don’t act surprised. I can be organized. Sometimes.” He clears his throat. “Item one: kiss wife in Tuscany.”

You arch a brow. “That’s oddly specific.”

“I’m a man of taste.” He walks over, grabs your waist, and kisses you slow and deep until your knees nearly give out. When he finally pulls back, he’s smiling like an idiot. “Check.”

You laugh against his mouth. “What’s item two?”

“Make pasta. Badly. Burn things. Throw flour at each other. Rom-com level disaster.”

And he’s not wrong.

Later that afternoon, after a lazy nap wrapped in crisp linen sheets and a warm breeze drifting through the open balcony, Tony insists on making fresh pasta from scratch, despite the fact that neither of you really knows what you’re doing.

It starts with enthusiasm and ends in chaos. Flour coats the kitchen, your hair, Tony’s face. A cracked egg drips off the counter. You accidentally launch a handful of dough across the room, and Tony dramatically declares war by smearing tomato sauce on your cheek.

You shriek, lunging at him, but he catches you around the waist and lifts you up onto the counter, kissing you like it’s the only thing that matters in the world.

And maybe it is.

Dinner is a slightly undercooked mess. You both eat every bite anyway.

Afterward, barefoot and tipsy on a bottle of red wine Tony opened with too much force, you sit outside under a canopy of fairy lights, the stars just beginning to show.

Tony has his arm around your shoulders. You’re wearing one of his loose t-shirts, and he’s in soft linen pants and nothing else. The warm wind rustles through the cypress trees, and there’s music playing from a small speaker nearby—some classic Italian tune Tony insisted was necessary for the vibe.

You lean your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.

“I like this version of us,” you murmur.

Tony presses a kiss to your hair. “Me too.”

“Why’d it take us so long to get here?”

He exhales slowly, like he’s been thinking about that a lot too. “Because I was a coward,” he admits. “And I didn’t deserve you. But I’m not letting you go now.”

You lift your eyes to his, studying the way the firelight flickers in them. “I’m not planning to leave.”

His smile is soft, nothing like the smirks he used to give you. “Good.”

The first day of your honeymoon ends with you curled up in his lap, the air filled with the scent of wine and rosemary, your laughter echoing in the hills.

And for once, there’s no bitterness. No tension. No fear.

Just love. And peace. And Tony Stark, holding you like he never wants to let you go.

---

The next morning starts off peaceful—until it doesn’t.

You wake before Tony, sunlight streaming in through the sheer curtains, birds chirping somewhere outside. You stretch, a sleepy smile playing on your lips as you take in the soft warmth of the sheets, the way Tony’s hand is still resting on your hip even in his sleep.

But then your stomach lurches.

Suddenly. Violently.

You barely make it to the bathroom before you're on your knees, heaving into the toilet.

Tony stumbles in moments later, his hair a disaster, shirtless and wide-eyed. “Sweetheart?”

You wave him off weakly, spitting out the last of the bile. “M’fine.”

“You’re not fine,” he says, kneeling beside you like he’s ready to call in a full emergency medical team. “Are you sick? Food poisoning? Was it the undercooked pasta? I knew we shouldn’t have eaten that. I swear if this is salmonella, I’m buying the entire food safety board of Italy.”

You groan and slump against the cool tile, resting your head against the wall. “Tony, calm down. It’s probably nothing.”

“Nothing?” His voice goes up an octave. “You were throwing up! That’s literally something. That's a huge, very alarming something!”

“I’m okay,” you mumble. “Just… nauseous.”

Tony’s already pulling his phone out, muttering to himself. “We need a doctor. Maybe two doctors. No, we’ll fly one in from Switzerland. Private jet. I’ll—”

“Tony!” you cut him off, grabbing his wrist. “Let’s just go to a pharmacy first, okay? It might just be… something simple.”

He pauses, looking at you with deep concern. “Fine. But if they don’t have what you need, I will buy the village. Just saying.”

—

The pharmacy is small and rustic, nestled between two cafes in the heart of the nearby town. It smells like lavender and lemons, with shelves stacked high with herbal remedies and charmingly mismatched bottles.

Tony sticks out like a sore thumb in his expensive sunglasses and hoodie, hovering behind you like a nervous bodyguard.

An elderly Italian woman emerges from the back, dressed in a floral blouse and bold red lipstick. Her silver hair is piled high, and she eyes you both with a mischievous glint.

“Americani?” she guesses immediately, grinning. “Luna di miele?”

“Honeymoon,” Tony murmurs, leaning toward you. “She knows we’re newlyweds.”

The woman winks. “Amore è nel’aria.” Love is in the air. She shuffles closer. “Come posso aiutarti, cara?”

You point to your stomach, trying to mime nausea. “I woke up feeling sick—stomach… blegh.”

The woman squints, then gives you a long, appraising look. She glances at Tony. Then back at you.

And with a delighted little “Ah-ha!”, she reaches behind the counter… and slaps a box onto the counter with a proud flourish.

Tony leans in to read the label.

Then blinks.

Then blinks again.

“A pregnancy test?” he says, voice cracking slightly.

The woman beams. “Sì! Congratulazioni!”

You stare at the box. Then at her. Then at Tony.

“Wait,” you whisper. “She thinks I’m pregnant?”

Tony looks at you, visibly pale. “Are you…?”

“I don’t know!” you hiss.

The woman pushes the box closer to you, her voice cheery and loud. “Due linee rosa! Pink lines, baby!”

You awkwardly thank her, pay for the test, and practically drag Tony out of the pharmacy, the woman shouting behind you, “Felicità! Fate una femmina, è meglio!” Make a girl—it’s better!

Tony’s quiet the entire way back to the villa.

You are too.

The test sits on the bathroom counter like a bomb.

You stare at it. He stares at you.

And finally, with shaking hands, you take the test and close the door.

Minutes pass.

Tony paces outside, muttering under his breath. “Okay. Okay, if it’s positive, we’ll handle it. We’ve got this. I mean—what even is a crib, really? Just a fancy baby cage, right?”

You open the door.

You’re holding the test.

Two pink lines.

You don’t say anything. You don’t have to.

Tony sees it.

His face goes blank. Then slowly, slowly, the emotion starts to flood in—shock, disbelief, and something so soft it nearly makes your knees give out.

He swallows hard. “We’re… gonna have a baby?”

You nod, lip trembling. “Yeah.”

Tony doesn’t move at first.

Then, suddenly, he’s got you in his arms, lifting you off the floor and spinning you around in the hallway.

“Holy hell,” he breathes, kissing your forehead, your cheeks, your mouth. “We’re having a baby.”

You laugh, half-crying, clutching the front of his shirt. “I guess we really are on our honeymoon now.”

“Guess we are.”

He sets you down gently, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I love you,” he whispers. “And I already love this little person we made. And I swear, I’m gonna do this right. No matter what.”

You nod, wiping tears off your cheeks. “I know.”

And when he kisses you again, slow and full of awe, the world seems to stand still—just the two of you, your hearts beating in sync, in a tiny villa in Italy, already beginning the next chapter of your life.

---

The rest of the honeymoon is nothing like you expected—because now, everything is different.

Tony doesn’t let you lift a finger. Not even a coffee cup.

You try to protest—at first. “Tony, I’m pregnant, not fragile.”

But he just lifts a brow, gently takes the mug from your hand, and says, “You’re carrying my child. Which means you’re now a VIP-class spaceship. No turbulence. No sudden movements. Maximum comfort only.”

He’s serious, too.

He adds extra pillows to the bed, orders decaf espresso—grudgingly—for you every morning, and Googles every possible fruit, cheese, and spice to make sure you’re not eating anything “even remotely suspicious.” He downloads four pregnancy tracking apps and cross-references them.

Tony Stark is in full dad mode.

One evening, when you go to watch the sunset with him and try to sit on the stone ledge around the patio, he nearly has a heart attack.

“Nope,” he says, scooping you up like you're made of glass. “You’re not breaking any part of your body before this kid is born.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s like a two-foot drop, Tony.”

“I’ve seen ankles snap for less. Google ‘cobblestone hazards in Tuscany.’ I dare you.”

He makes everything dramatic, but it’s not just nerves—it’s adoration.

He touches your belly like it’s already precious. Talks to it when he thinks you’re asleep. Whispers things like, “You’re gonna love your mom,” or “We’ll start with science toys and then move to building suits,” or, “If you’re a girl, don’t even look at boys until you’re thirty.”

You hear it all.

And your heart falls for him a little more every day.

—

Three days after the pregnancy test, you decide to return to the pharmacy. You owe her—Nonna Rosa, as you find out—for the moment that changed everything.

Tony insists on carrying a bouquet of bright flowers and a bottle of fancy wine.

“I don’t care if she’s probably against drinking because she’s old-school and religious,” he says, adjusting his sunglasses. “She deserves something expensive.”

When you walk into the little shop again, she spots you instantly.

“Ahhhh! La bambina!” she cries, throwing up her hands.

Tony laughs. “Told you. Psychic.”

She rushes over, pulls you into a firm hug, then plants both hands on your cheeks and stares. “Si vede negli occhi! I can see it in your eyes.”

“You really knew,” you say in disbelief. “I hadn’t even missed a period yet.”

She shrugs like it’s nothing. “È l’istinto. It’s instinct. And the glow. And the way he looked at you.”

Tony smirks. “What glow? I was a nervous wreck.”

“You were in love,” she corrects him.

He goes quiet, squeezing your hand.

Nonna Rosa spends the next half hour giving you tea samples for nausea, a handmade charm bracelet for “protection of la madre e il bambino,” and instructions on what herbs to steep at different stages of pregnancy. You leave the shop with two bags of supplies, your stomach sore from laughing, your heart warm.

Before you go, she hugs you both again, then whispers in your ear, “He will be a good papa. You are already a good mama.”

You blink back tears. “Thank you.”

—

Back at the villa, Tony’s affection only deepens.

When you get emotional watching a commercial about olive oil, he doesn’t laugh—he just pulls you into his arms, rubbing your back until the tears pass.

When you mention feeling bloated, he books a private massage therapist who specializes in prenatal care and says, “I’ll tip her enough to pay her rent for a year.”

When you start craving fresh mozzarella and figs at midnight, he drives an hour to the next town to find it.

You fall asleep with his hand resting on your belly every night.

You wake up to forehead kisses and whispered I-love-yous every morning.

And somewhere in between all of that, it finally clicks: This isn’t just a changed man.

This is a man who wants to build something with you.

A life. A family. A future.

—

On the last night of the honeymoon, you stand on the balcony with him, watching the Tuscan sky fade into stars. He wraps his arms around you from behind, hands resting just under your growing waistline.

“You know,” he murmurs against your ear, “I used to think love was a weakness.”

You tilt your head slightly. “And now?”

He presses a kiss to your temple. “Now I know it’s the only thing worth fighting for.”

You cover his hands with yours. “You’re going to be a great dad, Tony.”

He swallows hard, voice a little rough when he answers. “Only because you’re going to be the heart of this family.”

---

Coming back home feels different this time—like you’re stepping into a new chapter. One that hums quietly with anticipation and change.

Tony doesn’t let you carry a single bag off the plane, despite the fact that you’re still barely showing. “You’re carrying everything that matters,” he says, snapping his fingers at Happy, who takes your suitcase with a nod. “She gets airport princess treatment now.”

The Stark penthouse has been dusted, prepped, and stocked—Tony made sure of it before you even landed. There’s already a room cleared out across from your bedroom, not quite a nursery yet, but he looks at it with this strange sort of awe every time he walks by.

The next morning, he’s up at 6 a.m., pacing, already dressed and muttering to himself as he taps anxiously at his StarkPad.

You’re still brushing your teeth when he pokes his head into the bathroom. “Are you ready? We should leave in ten. Maybe fifteen, if we account for traffic. I already paid off three guys to clear the garage so Happy can pull the car around faster. Also—I downloaded the entire obstetrics textbook from Harvard Medical School and cross-checked it with six blogs. I’m ready for this.”

You spit into the sink and blink at him. “Tony. We’re just getting an ultrasound.”

“Exactly!” he says, eyes wide like you’ve just missed the apocalypse. “An ultrasound. Our baby. Who, by the way, has not responded to any of my nightly pep talks. I think they’re already ignoring me.”

You stifle a laugh and wipe your mouth. “It’s the size of a lime, Tony. It doesn’t know you’re talking to it.”

He scoffs. “Rude. I’m extremely charming.”

You roll your eyes and walk out to grab your coat, and he immediately follows, already fretting. “Do you want snacks? Water? What if you get cold in the waiting room? Should I bring a backup sweater for you? And backup for the backup?”

“Tony.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you. But if you don’t stop panicking, I’m going to need medical attention.”

He stops in his tracks. Blinks. Then smiles sheepishly. “Right. Sorry. I’m chill. Totally chill.” He takes a deep breath. “Super chill.”

—

He’s not chill.

Not at the clinic. Not even a little bit.

The poor nurse tries to ask you your name, and Tony blurts it out before you can. “Y/N Stark. She’s my wife. We're having a baby. We're very in love. Also, she's been nauseous, but not today, which I think is progress.”

The nurse gives you a knowing look. You just squeeze Tony’s hand and smile. “We’re here for the first ultrasound.”

They lead you into a cozy, softly lit room with pale blue walls and framed photos of smiling families. Tony paces while you settle onto the exam table, fidgeting as the tech preps the machine.

When the image appears on the screen, the room goes quiet.

There, nestled in the grainy black-and-white blur, is a tiny flicker.

A heartbeat.

Tony’s breath catches audibly. He reaches for your hand, slowly, as if afraid the image might vanish if he moves too fast.

“That’s… them?” he asks softly.

The tech nods, smiling. “That’s your baby.”

Tony doesn’t speak for a full minute. He just stares.

Then, very quietly, he whispers, “Hi, little one.”

You watch him fall in love in real time.

And you know—it’s not just the baby. It’s everything.

You. This life. What you’ve built together.

—

The decision to go public happens faster than you expect.

Tony insists on it.

“No secrets,” he says, pacing in front of the kitchen counter one evening. “I want the world to know. I want them to know. This kid is already the best thing I’ve ever done, and I haven’t even taught them quantum physics yet.”

You raise a brow from the couch. “Tony. I’m barely out of the first trimester.”

He walks over and kneels in front of you, hands on your knees, eyes uncharacteristically serious. “Let me tell them. Let me tell the world how proud I am of you. Of us.”

How can you say no to that?

The announcement goes live two days later: a candid photo of you and Tony on the villa balcony in Italy, your hand resting on your still-flat belly, his arms wrapped around you, both of you laughing like the world doesn’t matter.

The caption reads:

“Coming soon: Baby Stark. And yes, I’ll be building them their first lab by age two. Sorry not sorry.”

The internet breaks.

The press explodes.

Everyone—Avengers, friends, even business rivals—starts reaching out with congratulations.

Even Fury sends a one-word text: Finally.

But none of it compares to the way Tony wraps his arms around you that night, resting his chin on your shoulder as you both scroll through the comments and messages.

“Do you think the baby knows?” you ask softly.

Tony kisses your cheek. “They will. They’ll know they’re loved. Every second. Every minute. Every breath.”

---

Designing the nursery becomes Tony’s newest obsession—something he throws himself into with the same intensity he once reserved for building Iron Man suits and revolutionizing energy.

“We’re not doing boring pastel zoo animals,” he declares one morning, pushing open a tablet full of sleek digital mockups. “This kid’s getting a lab-themed nursery. Chrome mobiles, circuit-board wallpaper, floating shelves for STEM-themed books… I already made a list.”

You arch an eyebrow from where you’re sitting on the couch with swollen ankles and a glass of juice. “They’re going to be born, not code an AI straight out of the womb.”

Tony smirks, sitting beside you and gently lifting your feet into his lap to massage them. “Hey, never underestimate Stark genetics.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help smiling. “Fine. But I want warm tones. Something cozy, not just… titanium chic.”

He nods thoughtfully. “Cozy, but genius. I can work with that.”

And he does. Every evening, you both find yourselves in what was once the empty guest room, standing in the center and imagining your future together.

Color palettes are tested. Tony builds a crib from scratch—out of wood, not metal, because you insisted. He even softens enough to let you choose plush animals for the shelves, despite his comments like, “That bunny’s IQ looks suspiciously low.”

You spend hours hand-painting little constellations across one wall, while he hooks up a night light system that projects stars onto the ceiling.

He reads to your belly at night.

And with every laugh, every tiny kick, every moment you catch him staring at you like you hung the moon—you feel safer. Stronger.

But as weeks stretch into months, something begins to feel… different.

It starts small. You notice that your belly seems to be expanding faster than you expected. You chalk it up to genetics, maybe even water retention, but at your next prenatal yoga class, a woman due at the same time gives you a sideways glance.

“How far along are you again?” she asks, trying to sound casual.

“Twenty-four weeks,” you answer, wiping your forehead.

Her brows lift. “Wow. You’re carrying… a lot.”

You try to brush it off. But later, while Tony’s measuring a bookshelf he’s installing in the nursery, you find yourself tugging down your maternity shirt, eyes lingering on the mirror.

Your belly looks… big.

Bigger than the books say it should be.

That night, lying beside Tony with your hand resting over your belly, you whisper, “Do you think it looks… too big?”

He immediately looks over, concerned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean compared to other women this far along. I saw someone today—same week. She looked half my size.”

Tony sits up a little, his expression sobering. “Are you uncomfortable? Is something hurting?”

“No,” you admit. “Just… wondering.”

He rubs your arm gently. “Well, there’s a million variables. Body type, position of the baby, fluid levels. Maybe our kid just takes after me—big head, big brain, huge personality.”

You smile, but it doesn't quite reach your eyes.

“Let’s call the doctor tomorrow,” he says softly. “Just to check.”

You nod, heart beating a little faster.

And that night, even as he wraps his arms around you and rubs soothing circles against your side, you can’t help feeling something stirring inside you—more than just kicks and flutters.

A question.

A feeling.

Like your body’s holding more than it’s letting on.

---

The next morning, Tony insists on clearing his entire schedule—even cancelling a meeting with the UN tech board—so he can come with you to the OB-GYN.

He doesn’t pace this time. He just holds your hand the entire ride over, thumb tracing slow circles over your knuckles, lips pressed tight in a line he only wears when something's tugging at his heart.

You’re nervous, but not scared. Not really. You just… need to know.

The waiting room is quiet. The exam room colder than usual. And when the gel hits your belly and the ultrasound machine hums to life, your breath catches in your throat.

The doctor’s eyes narrow slightly at the screen, her lips parting. But she doesn’t look alarmed. Just surprised.

Tony notices immediately.

“Okay,” he says, his voice already loaded with anxiety, “that’s not your standard everything’s fine face. What’s going on?”

The doctor smiles, calm and steady.

“Well,” she says, turning the screen toward you both, “you were right about the belly size. Because you're not carrying one baby, Mrs. Stark. You're carrying two.”

You blink. Your brain stutters.

Tony's mouth falls open. “Twins?”

The doctor nods. “Fraternal. Two separate amniotic sacs. One girl…” She moves the probe slightly, points to one side of the screen. “And one boy.” She points to the other.

You stare, heart suddenly thudding so loudly you swear it echoes in the room.

Tony’s breath leaves him in one long exhale. “You’re kidding.”

“Not even a little,” the doctor chuckles. “Congratulations.”

He doesn’t speak right away. He just looks at the screen, wide-eyed, hands slowly releasing yours only so he can press his fingers to the monitor, as if touching it would make it more real.

Then he whispers, so soft it almost breaks you: “A daughter and a son.”

You’re too stunned to say anything for a few seconds.

Then your eyes fill with tears. Not panic. Not fear.

Overwhelmed joy.

Tony turns to you like he’s seeing you all over again.

“You’re incredible,” he says, voice shaking. “You’re actually growing two little humans in there. We made two.” He laughs—a little wild, a little breathless—and swipes his hands down his face. “I need to sit down.”

The doctor smiles. “I’ll give you a few minutes. We’ll go over all the details shortly. Everything looks perfect so far.”

The door clicks closed behind her.

Tony still hasn’t moved. He sits down beside you slowly, as if his knees have given out, and then pulls your hand into his lap. His eyes are shining now, and when he looks at you, it’s like you’re the only thing holding him to the earth.

“Twins,” you say, still not believing it. “I knew I was getting bigger faster but I thought maybe it was just… I don’t know. Pizza.”

He laughs, head falling forward to rest against your shoulder. “We’re gonna need a bigger house.”

You run your fingers through his hair, still blinking away tears. “We already have a whole building.”

“Okay, then we need a wing.”

He lifts his head again, and you both look at the screen once more. Two tiny flickers. Two little lives.

“You okay?” he asks softly.

You nod. “Yeah. Are you?”

Tony doesn’t answer with words. He leans forward and kisses you—slowly, reverently, like you’re made of starlight and safety and everything good he’s ever wanted but never believed he deserved.

“I didn’t think I could love you more,” he says against your lips. “But I do.”

And just like that, the weight of the world becomes something warm. Something shared. Something beautiful.

Later, in the car, he announces: “We’re going public. Today. No waiting.”

“Tony…”

“Nope,” he cuts in. “The people deserve to know. And by people, I mean everyone I’ve ever met, looked at, or cyberstalked.”

The new post goes up before the elevator even opens at the penthouse:

“Plot twist: there are TWO Starklings incoming. Yes, I’m panicking. No, I won’t be sleeping for the next 18 years.”

It takes 10 minutes for #StarkTwins to trend worldwide.

And somehow, despite the chaos, despite the double-shock, despite the massive life shift ahead…

You feel calm.

Because he’s right here.

And for the first time, so are they.

---

Shopping for one baby had already been a bit overwhelming. Shopping for two?

That’s a whole new kind of madness—and Tony, of course, leans into it with full-throttle Stark intensity.

“Two of everything,” he declares the morning after the appointment, standing at the foot of your bed with a stylus in one hand and a digital checklist hovering in midair. “Cribs, monitors, sound machines, swaddles—God help me, even diapers. Y/N, do you know how many diapers twins go through?”

You blink blearily up at him, still nestled under the covers. “Please don’t start our day with horror stories.”

“I’ve done the math,” he says gravely, eyes scanning the list like it’s a mission report. “We’ll need at least 9,000 in the first year. That’s not a joke.”

You groan into your pillow. “Don’t say things like that before coffee.”

“Already brewing,” he says, flashing a charming grin. “Also, I hired a twin consultant.”

You sit up, eyes wide. “That’s a thing?”

“It is now,” Tony says, smug as ever. “She’s flying in from Copenhagen. Best in the field. She’s helping with layout optimization and efficiency training. No chaos. Only balance.”

You can't help but laugh. “You act like we’re launching a small army.”

“Babies are a small army,” he replies. “Except they cry, poop, and will destroy your sleep schedule for the foreseeable future.”

—

You visit every boutique in the city—and a few in Paris and Milan via video call. Tony buys out entire sections of one shop in SoHo and has a luxury baby furniture company build two matching custom cribs, one with silver inlay and the other with a star-and-moon motif to match the constellation wall you painted.

The nursery becomes a shared haven—one room for both babies. You and Tony stand in the center of it often now, surrounded by soft creams, deep navy, gold accents, and the twinkling of projected stars overhead.

“Think they’ll like sharing?” you ask one night, brushing your fingers along the edge of one of the cribs.

Tony comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, now fully rounded and glowing with life.

“They’ll be born into the same chaos,” he murmurs, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Might as well share a room and plot world domination together.”

You laugh, leaning into him. “They’ll be a team.”

He presses a kiss to your temple. “Like us.”

—

The names come slowly—weeks of gentle debates, late-night whispers, and quiet moments with your hands joined over your belly.

You go through everything from classic to avant-garde. Tony suggests “Nova” at one point; you counter with “Juliet.” He proposes “JARVIS Jr.” and you tell him he’s banned from naming privileges for 48 hours.

But one evening, long after the sun’s gone down and you’re curled together in bed, you whisper something that changes everything.

“Lyra,” you say softly, fingers resting just left of your navel. “Like the constellation.”

Tony’s silent for a moment. Then he nods slowly, thoughtfully. “Lyra Stark.”

You glance at him. “Too much?”

He shakes his head. “No. It’s beautiful. Poetic. Strong.”

You both look at your belly. She kicks gently, as if in approval.

“And for him?” you ask.

Tony turns his head to look at you. “Kyle.”

“Kyle?”

“Yeah.” He brushes a lock of hair away from your forehead. “Simple. Strong. Doesn’t sound like he’ll invent a killer AI. I like it.”

You smile. “Lyra and Kyle.”

He leans in to kiss you, slow and soft. “Perfect.”

From that moment on, they’re no longer just “the twins.” They’re Lyra and Kyle.

—

As the months pass, their room transforms into a blend of art and innovation—one side with celestial details, soft blues and silvers for Lyra, and the other in calm earth tones, burnt oranges and forest greens for Kyle.

The cribs stand side-by-side beneath a floating mobile of glowing planets and stars Tony designed himself.

Two nameplates hang above the cribs now—crafted from brushed gold and reclaimed oak.

You catch Tony staring at them often. Not with fear. Not with panic.

But with awe.

“They’re really coming,” he says one night, hands cradling your belly, now round and firm beneath your shirt. “I still can’t believe it.”

“They’re lucky,” you whisper, brushing his hair back. “They’ll have you.”

He looks at you, eyes tender. “No. They’ll have us. And they’ll know they were wanted. Every heartbeat. Every breath.”

And that night, curled against him, you feel them kick together for the first time—one, then the other. Strong. Sure.

A team already.

----

The gala is one of those high-profile events that Tony would normally glide through with ease—press, flashing cameras, board members with tight handshakes and tighter smiles. And normally, you’d stand by his side with calm grace, fingers looped through his arm, chin held high.

But tonight feels different.

You’re in your final weeks now. Your belly is undeniably big—so big you had to be sewn into your custom gown while standing because sitting was temporarily off the table. The dark green silk flows beautifully around your curves, but it doesn’t hide anything. Lyra and Kyle are front and center, snug inside you, and moving constantly like they know they’re being paraded through the public eye.

You adjust the shawl around your shoulders for what feels like the fifth time as Tony finishes shaking hands with a Stark Industries partner near the entrance. You shift your weight carefully, not wanting to put too much pressure on your back or feet, which have been swelling lately.

You feel eyes on you—discreet glances from women in body-hugging gowns and men in tailored suits, some with raised brows, others with polite smiles that barely mask surprise.

You try to ignore it.

But you still feel awkward. Huge. And far too visible.

Tony notices the moment your smile dims.

He excuses himself mid-conversation and makes a beeline straight to you, hands immediately landing on your waist and back, steadying you, grounding you.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, scanning your face. “Too much?”

You give him a half-smile, trying to sound lighter than you feel. “Just a little… self-conscious.”

His expression softens instantly, like someone flipped a switch inside his chest.

“Hey,” he murmurs, tipping your chin up with two fingers. “You are glowing. I mean it. You look like a goddamn goddess.”

You snort softly. “A swollen goddess.”

“An unstoppable goddess,” he corrects, kissing your forehead. “Who’s literally growing two new Starks inside her body and still managing to look like the cover of Vogue.”

You roll your eyes, but it helps. His hands don't leave your body for the rest of the night. Every step, every moment, he’s there—offering your hand to lean on, reminding you to sit every twenty minutes, checking that the event staff remembered your water and low-sodium snacks. He even shoos off the press photographers after ten minutes so you don’t have to stand for long.

“You're carrying my entire legacy,” he murmurs once when he helps you into a velvet-lined seat. “The least I can do is keep you off your feet.”

He doesn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the night.

—

Three days later, everything changes.

It starts at dawn. The sky is still painted soft blue and orange when you wake to a strange, warm pressure low in your belly. Not a kick. Not a cramp.

Something else.

You try to stand, and that's when it hits you—sharp and low, then easing into a dull, pulsing wave. You gasp, holding your stomach. Your water breaks seconds later.

Tony is at your side before you can even call for him. He stumbles out of bed in a flurry of blankets and panic.

“What? What? Was that a real gasp? Did something—?”

“My water broke,” you say breathlessly. “It’s happening.”

He stares at you, frozen.

Then: “Holy sh—okay. Okay, yeah. You’re fine. We’re fine. We practiced for this.” He’s already grabbing the go-bag, the phone, barking orders to FRIDAY to call the doctor and alert the hospital.

By the time you’re in the car, gripping his hand and trying to breathe through another contraction, Tony’s all business—but his other hand never stops stroking your back.

“You’re doing amazing,” he says, over and over. “You’ve got this. We’ve got this.”

Labor is long. Hours stretch by, filled with pain and sweat and exhaustion. But he never leaves your side.

Not when you scream through the harder contractions.

Not when you cry from the pressure and the fear.

Not when you beg for it to be over.

And when your body finally gives in and the room is filled with the high, wailing cries of not one—but two—new lives, Tony’s the first to cry.

A nurse lays your daughter on your chest—tiny, pink, with a shock of dark hair and fists curled tight. You barely have time to kiss her head before they bring your son, his cry a little softer but just as strong, his fingers already clutching at your gown.

Tony’s beside you, eyes full of awe and wet with tears. His hands shake as he touches them for the first time.

“They’re here,” he whispers. “Lyra and Kyle. They’re real.”

You manage a tired laugh, voice cracked. “They’re perfect.”

He kisses you hard and long and trembling.

----

Bringing Lyra and Kyle home is like stepping into a dream you didn’t know your heart had written.

But it’s not quiet.

And it’s definitely not restful.

The moment the elevator opens into the penthouse, the real chaos begins.

Lyra starts crying first—sharp and commanding, as if announcing her reign as the older sibling (by two minutes). Kyle follows almost immediately, softer but no less insistent. The sound echoes off the marble floors and sleek walls as if bouncing from every corner of the building.

Tony, still in a soft gray hoodie and cradling the car seat with Kyle, looks at you with eyes wide and shell-shocked. “Did anyone install a mute button? No? Cool. I’ll look into that.”

You’re too exhausted to laugh, but your hand reaches for his anyway, grounding yourself.

The nursery—your carefully designed sanctuary—suddenly feels smaller and louder and much less serene. You gently lay Lyra into her crib, her tiny arms flailing in protest, and immediately Kyle decides he does not want to be separated. His cries ramp up to what Tony calls “critical red alert levels.”

“Okay, okay, he needs backup,” Tony murmurs, scooping him up again with a gentleness that nearly breaks your heart. “Come on, little guy. It’s not that bad. You’re not even paying rent.”

The next 72 hours pass in a blur of feedings, burp cloths, diaper changes, and the faint sound of your sanity unraveling thread by thread.

You barely sleep—maybe an hour at a time. Your body aches. Your hormones are crashing like tidal waves. You cry for no reason sometimes, holding Lyra against your chest in the dark while Tony rubs your back and doesn’t ask questions.

But through it all, he’s there.

Tony Stark, billionaire genius playboy-turned-husband and father, rises to every occasion like he’s been preparing his whole life for this. He’s in the nursery before you even wake to the monitor’s buzz. He handles diaper duty without complaint—even when Kyle somehow manages to get him twice in one change.

He rocks Lyra for hours when she won’t settle, singing her old ‘80s rock ballads off-key, whispering jokes she’ll never remember.

He lets you nap uninterrupted by lying to the entire world that you’re “in a meeting” when reporters start requesting statements and the board tries to reschedule him for “important discussions.”

“The most important discussion I’m having today,” he says firmly into the phone, “is with two humans who weigh less than a cantaloupe and poop like it’s a competitive sport. So unless the building is on fire—no, you know what? Even if it’s on fire, deal with it without me.”

And then he silences his phone and lays beside you while the twins nap, his arm draped protectively across your waist, both of you catching a precious thirty minutes of sleep.

When you wake from one of those naps to the scent of warm food, you shuffle groggily into the kitchen to find him with Lyra strapped to his chest in a baby wrap and a pan of eggs cooking in front of him.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says with a grin. “Lyra says she likes her eggs over easy. She also says I’m her favorite. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

You smile so hard you almost cry again.

Later that night, when both babies are miraculously sleeping in their cribs at the same time—tiny arms thrown up in near-identical poses—you lean against the nursery doorway, arms crossed gently over your chest, and watch Tony fuss quietly over the room.

He’s rearranging things that don’t need rearranging. Checking the monitor angle. Adjusting the blanket placement in the cribs.

You walk over and wrap your arms around his waist from behind.

He leans back into your touch immediately. “Can’t believe they’re real.”

“I can’t believe we made them.”

He turns in your arms, eyes soft. “You did most of the work, let’s be honest. I just—”

“You’ve been amazing,” you interrupt gently. “Really.”

He smiles—crooked, a little tired, a little emotional. “I don’t want you to do any of this alone. Ever.”

You pull him down into a kiss. It’s quiet. It tastes like sleep deprivation and love.

---

Life with twins becomes a mosaic of moments—some loud and chaotic, others quiet and golden.

Lyra and Kyle grow faster than you ever thought possible. One moment they’re impossibly small, sleeping curled against your chest, and the next they’re crawling in opposite directions at alarming speeds while Tony frantically tries to babyproof a Stark-level security system from the babies themselves.

“They’re teaming up,” he says one evening, watching as Kyle opens the bottom drawer in the kitchen and hands a spoon to Lyra. “They’re forming a hive mind. You see this, right?”

You’re laughing, even as you pluck the spoon from Lyra’s grip and gently redirect her back toward her soft play area. “They're not a hive. They're siblings.”

“They’re mutinous,” he mutters, but his grin betrays his pride. “Tiny, adorable rebels.”

—

Their first steps come unexpectedly, of course.

You and Tony are both in the nursery one late afternoon, folding laundry together on the floor while the twins babble nonsense to their stuffed animals. Kyle is focused on his favorite one—a green plush dinosaur with a snagged eye—while Lyra, ever observant, is watching you.

You catch her gaze just as she starts to push herself upright.

Tony notices first. “Oh,” he whispers. “Oh-oh-oh.”

She wobbles—one foot, then the other, barely stable—and then she walks.

Three full steps.

Straight into your arms.

You burst into tears, laughing and holding her tight. “You did it, baby!”

Kyle, not to be outdone, immediately lets go of his toy and tries the same thing. He takes two steps, then falls dramatically onto his padded backside, completely unbothered.

Tony claps like he’s just witnessed a world record. “You guys! You guys! You’re walking now? We need helmets. We need security.”

From that day forward, it’s chaos all over again. Mobility changes everything. They explore every room. Open every drawer. Kyle develops a fascination with Tony’s gadgets, and Lyra becomes obsessed with books—she likes to flip through them, point at the pages, and babble nonsense words that sound oddly like commands.

“Mini CEO,” Tony says proudly, watching her point at the same picture of a rocket over and over again.

—

Their words start coming around the same time.

But they’re not exactly dictionary-ready.

Lyra says “muh-muh” when she wants milk and “dah-dee” when she sees Tony walk into the room. Kyle invents his own phrases—“boo-moo” for blanket, “wah-wah” for water, and something that sounds like “da-blurf” that could mean literally anything depending on the tone.

To outsiders, it’s pure chaos.

To you and Tony, it’s a fluent second language.

You translate with ease at the park, at brunches, at family gatherings.

“She wants her bunny,” you say when Lyra looks up at you with big eyes and says “bun-yah-nah.”

“He dropped his truck in the fountain,” Tony explains, deadpan, when Kyle starts shouting “wuh-bloop!” repeatedly and pointing furiously at the edge of the garden.

It becomes a running joke among your friends and staff that only the two of you can understand them.

“You’re like their personal interpreters,” Rhodey says one afternoon, watching the twins toddle around the tower’s rec room.

“More like their unpaid assistants,” Tony mutters, grinning as he catches Kyle mid-wobble and swings him onto his hip. “Bilingual in toddler and fluent in chaos.”

—

By the time Lyra and Kyle are two, your lives are unrecognizable from the ones you had before them. Your house is a blend of elegance and mess—designer furniture paired with foam corner guards, baby gates guarding arc reactors, and a fridge covered in crayon masterpieces you can’t bring yourself to take down.

You and Tony barely sleep some nights, but when you do, it’s together—your bodies curled protectively around each other in a house that now echoes with tiny feet and sweeter-than-anything laughter.

The twins babble to each other constantly—words and sounds you don’t always catch, but that clearly mean something to them. A private language. A world of their own.

Sometimes you watch them from the doorway as they sit together with books or blocks or their favorite stuffed toys, heads close, trading secrets.

“Do you think they know?” you ask Tony one night, as Lyra pats Kyle’s head before handing him her bunny.

“Know what?”

“That they changed everything.”

Tony wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close as the sunlight glows through the window and warms the nursery floor.

“They are everything,” he says softly.

---

Mornings in the Stark household now begin with chaos.

Not a metaphorical kind. No—this is toddler-level bedlam.

The twins wake up at exactly 6:14 AM every single day like little precision alarm clocks forged in the fires of mischief. Today is no different.

You're jolted awake by the sudden crackle of the baby monitor, followed by a loud—and completely unintelligible—battle cry.

"MAH-DEE BEEPBOOP!" Kyle shouts, his voice shrill and dramatic.

"NOOO KAH-LOOO! DABBA ME!" Lyra wails immediately after, and the sound of what might be a plush bunny hitting the crib bars echoes through the monitor.

You groan softly into your pillow. “They’re fighting over Beepboop again.”

Tony, face smushed into the pillow, mumbles, “I’ll give you two million dollars if you go get them.”

“Make it three and coffee.”

He sighs, rolls out of bed, and limps toward the nursery in pajama pants and a shirt that says “World’s Okayest Dad.”

You follow moments later to find him kneeling between two cribs, holding up the infamous Beepboop—a lumpy stuffed robot with one missing arm.

Kyle points with all the moral authority of a tiny Supreme Court judge. “BEEPBOOP me, Dadda. Me say dib-dib-dib! Lyyyyra cheat!”

Lyra scowls, pigtails wild. “NO! Bepbop NO dib-dib! Me hug Beepboop ALL night! Me! Me! Me! MAAAAAA!”

Tony’s trying not to laugh. “Okay, okay. Court is in session. Both plaintiffs, present your evidence.”

You squat down beside him and gently take Beepboop. “What if Beepboop gets two turns today? Lyra can have him during story time, and Kyle during nap time?”

They both squint at you like suspicious diplomats.

Kyle crosses his arms. “Hmph. Nap boring. Bepbop NO nap.”

Lyra’s lip quivers. “But me hug him! Hug like—like foreber!”

You hold Beepboop up and look between them. “Teamwork or timeout?”

A long beat.

Then—both toddlers sigh in unison, as if burdened by the unbearable injustice of compromise.

“Fiiiine,” Kyle mutters.

“Me HUG first,” Lyra insists one last time.

—

Breakfast is…something.

Tony makes pancakes, but Kyle insists on helping, which really means slapping the counter with flour-covered hands and taste-testing raw batter with his fingers.

“NOOOO EGGY!” he yells dramatically as Tony cracks one into the bowl.

Tony raises a brow. “What do you mean ‘no eggy’? It’s a pancake. Pancakes need eggs.”

“No eggy, no eggy, NOOOO!” Kyle insists, absolutely scandalized.

Meanwhile, Lyra has decided her only utensil today is a measuring cup, which she is currently using to ladle syrup from the bottle directly onto her pancake. The pancake is now more syrup than food.

You sit with your mug of tea and watch, amazed that these tiny humans are somehow so much like you and Tony and yet such chaotic goblins.

“Banana?” Lyra asks, holding up a pancake completely drowning in syrup.

“You want banana on that?” you ask.

She nods like it’s obvious. “Banana IN pancake. Like brrrrr-BAM. ‘Splode banana.���

Tony stares. “Okay… That’s actually a genius idea. Banana explosion pancakes. Trademark pending.”

—

Midday is supposed to be calm.

Supposed to be.

But then there’s the puzzle incident.

Lyra wants to complete a big animal puzzle. Kyle wants to climb on it like Godzilla.

Lyra screeches, “NO SMOOSH ELEFAMP!” as Kyle lays across the puzzle dramatically.

You’re folding laundry when she marches into the living room with two chunky toddler fists clenched and fire in her eyes. “MOM-MEEE. Bubba make puzzle DEAD. Him SMASH elefamp.”

Kyle shouts from the floor behind her, “HIM NAP with effa-famp! Nap! It cuddly!”

Tony watches the scene like a referee between tiny wrestlers.

“I have no idea what’s happening,” he mutters. “They both sound right.”

You lean over and whisper, “He’s cuddling the elephant piece. She thinks he’s committing puzzle war crimes.”

Tony nods solemnly. “That tracks.”

—

Nap time is sacred.

Except no one wants to sleep today.

Tony’s strategy involves lying between their little toddler beds and making spaceship noises. “The sleep ship is docking. Commander Kyle, permission to close eyes.”

Kyle blinks at him and deadpans, “Me NO commander. Me banana.”

Lyra giggles. “Commander Nana!”

Tony puts a hand over his heart. “You’re right. Commander Banana, lead the sleepy fleet.”

You stifle laughter from the doorway as he drones on: “Fueling dreams… activating nap boosters…”

By some miracle, both fall asleep fifteen minutes later. You and Tony high-five silently and collapse onto the couch.

“Remember when we thought we were tired before we had kids?” you whisper.

Tony nods, eyes already closing. “Fools. Arrogant, well-rested fools.”

—

Bath time is wet, splashy, and full of giggles.

Kyle babbles a long, incomprehensible monologue involving “tub-fish” and “soap army,” while Lyra insists the shampoo bottle is “Prince Bubble” and must not be harmed.

By the time they're in pajamas and tucked in, you and Tony are damp, exhausted, and laughing under your breath.

“Me lub you, Dadda,” Kyle whispers as his eyes flutter closed.

“Me lub you, Momma,” Lyra echoes.

You and Tony freeze.

Those are the clearest words they’ve spoken all day.

Your throat catches. Tony blinks rapidly, lips curving.

“I love you both more than the whole world,” you whisper, smoothing back Lyra’s hair.

Tony leans in and kisses their foreheads gently. “Even more than my vintage car collection. And that’s saying something.”

[upon-a-starry-night]

Number Neighbors Pt.23

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

You were right that your coworker had wanted to introduce you to the group of people she’d been having a conversation with, but in their defense, they were incredibly friendly and hilarious. You felt good when they all asked for your number so you could keep in contact. 

This is exactly what you’d been hoping for when you decided to come, although you’ve already gotten more than you bargained for. Your gaze drifted over to the bar for the thousandth time that night. The redhead had long left to go socialize with the other party go-ers but you’d been replaying your interaction over and over. 

It was far from the kind of interaction you’d expected to have with her, and once your heart had finally had time to calm down you realized that you forgot to thank her for saving your life. 

But she wanted to see you again. She told you to find her. You still had the chance.

The room was beginning to get a bit stuffy and warm and you weren’t sure whether it was from the bodies or the alcohol, probably both. Either way, it made you crave fresh air so the second there was a break in the conversation you excused yourself. Your friend tossed you a concerned glance but you shook your head with a smile, assuring her that you were just needing some air.

The cool night air was a refreshing welcome compared to inside and you were glad to see you were the only one out there. 

You leaned against the wall and let the sounds of busy nighttime New York wash over you. The non-stop honking of cars and loud exclamations of drunk bar hoppers were a constant you were long familiar with. It was baseless noise for some but for you it was familiar. 

The view from the balcony was by far the best you’d ever experienced as well. Avengers Tower was one of the tallest buildings in New York and you could see why people were desperate to be invited. You’d pay good money just to see your city from this spot every night. 

You're caught up in your silent admiration when a figure appears next to you, taking up the wall space as they copy your body language and lean against the cool material with their arms crossed.

You look up at the figure, surprised to see Natasha’s soft smile peering down at you. She told you to find her later and yet here she was finding you. You hadn’t even heard her come outside.

You smile back at her, glad that the two of you got another chance to talk, this time in a more private location. You honestly weren’t sure if you were going to be able to see her again, it was nearing 1 AM and the party guests who hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to Tony yet were stubbornly determined to meet him despite their obvious exhaustion.

Even you were on the verge of slumping onto a very expensive couch and taking a nap but that didn’t seem very socially acceptable right now. But your energy has been fully renewed just by Nat’s presence. Nobody could ever say Nat didn’t have a superpower ever again.

Despite your exhaustion, Natasha doesn’t even look fazed despite having to make drinks and network all night. 

“You do this whole party thing too often don’t you?” 

She smirks at you, a look you’re much more familiar with than the soft smile she was giving you a second ago. 

“You have no idea” There’s an uproar of laughter from inside, coming from the crowd surrounding Stark, and Nat rolls her eyes as if proving her point.

A chill runs through your body when a strong breeze catches the wind. There were pros and cons to being up this high. It makes you remember when you were younger, everything was so tall compared to you. You used to have a fear of heights. You wondered if Natasha had a fear of heights when she was young. If she’s ever had a fear of anything or if she was always as fearless as the first time you saw her, defending the world from aliens.

The memory brings a soft smile to your face as you stare out at the city in silence. It was a shock to both you and your therapist when you’d smiled at the memory. Everything else from that day had been- awful. Months of sessions and breathing exercises and crying and you hadn’t been able to genuinely smile until you remembered her.

You supposed it was the way she carried herself, like nothing could touch her. Not even aliens. You’d laughed at that and your therapist stared at you wide-eyed like you were in the middle of a mental breakdown. She told you it had been a while since she’d heard someone laugh in her sessions- the world was so quiet for weeks after that terrifying day. You were too- until her.

Natasha Romanoff was your guiding light. For a while, she might’ve even been your obsession but the more mainstream the Avengers became the more you realized you just admired her as a woman. You were nothing like the fans who followed her every move- you just wanted a chance to thank her. And now you have it.

Turning to her, the hundreds of versions of thank yous that you’d written ran through your head and then filtered away just as you opened your mouth to speak. Nothing seemed grand enough to express how grateful you were, but maybe you didn’t need grand, maybe she didn’t need grand. Maybe all she needed was something simple- woman to woman.

“You know uhm- I actually kind of owe you my life” Her attention turns back on you, her head tilting as she gives you her full attention. 

“Oh?”

You nod, swallowing your nerves as you try to talk about a situation you’ve only ever talked about with your therapist.

“Yeah, you probably don’t remember because it was super crazy and I don’t even think you saw me honestly but you saved me from an alien a few years ago and wow that’s crazy to say out loud-” You stopped your rambling and resisted the urge to bite your thumb, she was looking at you with an expression you couldn’t read. It gave you the chance to admire her up close. 

You’d seen her in person and on the news but she was different up close. Despite her intimidating persona she almost seemed…softer. You noticed the little freckles that dotted her face, the way her hair brushed her shoulders elegantly, the way she chewed the side of her lip lightly. Who knew the famous black widow had a nervous tick? You internally shook your head- you had to stop idolizing her and regard her as the person she was. 

You let understanding wash over you as you began to take in the tiredness behind her eyes, the way her shoulders never fully relaxed, the way her posture and movements were so perfectly practiced. It must be exhausting to always appear like the strongest woman in the room. Was she ever able to be vulnerable? Did she ever take a break?

Shaking your head, you let out a small chuckle “ -actually it doesn’t really matter what happened. I just wanted to say Thank you, for what you did all those years ago. You saved so many lives on that day but you saved me for months afterwards.” This is the longest amount of time you’ve held eye contact with anyone and you resist the urge to look away when you feel tears start to form. “ I hope you know how incredible you are”

She sucks in a sharp breath and looks away from you, her gaze going to the ever-dwindling party inside. You worry for a second that you’ve said something you shouldn’t have, or unintentionally reminded her of a painful memory but after a while her gaze turns back to you. 

She’s looking at you with that same look from earlier, her eyes shining with recognition and what you can now pinpoint as admiration. Natasha Romanoff admires you. 

“Y/n-” Your phone rings and you scramble to answer it, giving Nat an apologetic look that she dismisses with an understanding shake of her head. Eager to get back to whatever Nat was about to tell you your finger quickly swipes over the answer call button.

“Hello?” 

“Y/n! Where are you? You’re missing this great story-” Your friend seems significantly drunker than when you left her and you wonder what she got herself into in the short while you were away. You should probably go back and join her but…

“I’m on the balcony, remember?” 

“Oh..” You can practically feel her pout. “ That’s so funny I could’ve sworn I saw Natasha Romanoff go out there- Hey! Is she with you? Oh my god, she totally is! Are you hanging out? Did you tell her about your big fat crush-” You swiftly end the call.

You seriously hope Natasha didn’t hear that and that she can’t see the blush currently taking over your whole face but the sight of her smirking at you is definitely not a good sign. 

You’re absolutely mortified.

“You didn’t hear anything” You accusingly point at her and she raises her hands in a mock surrender. It’s the first time you’ve seen her surrender to anyone and you’re afraid of what it does to your insides. 

Whatever she was going to say to you seems to have gone, the moment sufficiently ended you figure it’s probably best if you head back to your friend and stop her from drinking more free alcohol and potentially spilling your embarrassing work stories. 

Nat seems to sense your plan to leave as she straightens up and you preen at the fact that she’d been comfortable enough to relax a bit in your presence. 

Smile still prominent, you rub your arm from the cold as you prepare to say goodbye to someone you’re not sure you’ll ever get the chance to talk like this with again.

“Well- It was nice getting to talk with you but I should probably get going” Nat looks like she wants to say something, her jaw ticks, and her eyes take in your face but when her eyes catch your injured shoulder she stops herself. “ Also thank you for that drink it was unfairly good and I’ll probably never have another like it” 

That gets her to laugh and you find yourself chuckling with her. A car honks in the distance and the party's still going on like nothing has happened but for you, everything has changed. This moment will be ingrained in your memory forever.

You make a move to leave but the sound of your name makes you turn back to her, a questioning look on your face. 

“You know you can always call me” The statement catches you off guard. You know the Avengers hotline is always open but they were usually busy dealing with prank calls and petty crimes. You weren’t sure they’d believe you if you called and told them Natasha Romanoff said you could call her and ask her to make you another drink.

The humor of the situation has you returning the gesture with your own proposition “Same to you. If you need anyone to talk to or just someone to give you compliments” She chuckles and you’re sure she gets that you’re joking but she still tilts her head in a tease

“I don’t have your number”

You let yourself indulge in the joke, seeing no harm in making your friend wait a minute longer “You have my name, I’m sure you won’t have trouble finding it”

A sort of mirth sparkled in her eyes as she spoke her next sentence “Well I’m no FBI agent” It feels like an inside joke and you're trying to pinpoint where you remember it from but after a few seconds you shake it off and blame it on the alcohol. 

You laugh and give her a wave as you make your way to the door back inside. Just as your fingers grip the handle Natasha’s voice calls out to you one more time 

“Take care of yourself, Y/n.”

You smile at her as you open the door “You too, Nat.” 

It’s odd how a few minutes of interaction will make the taste of her name feel so familiar

~~

Later when you're home warm in your pj’s and settling into bed, your phone pings with a notification and you open it to see a text from Nat-

       Nat🔪:

Nat🔪: 

I'm guessing from your lack of texts 

that you’re having a good night?

You smile as you type out your response, excited to tell her all of the details in the morning

Y/n🍦:

The Best❤

Pt.24

A/n: Nat seems to have hesitated- what do you think she was going to tell Y/n? ~ Starry

---Taglist--

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat @toouncreativeforausername @ordelixx @autorasexy @blacklightsposts @vmpnano @jono723 @sylencr @saraaahsstuff @autorasexy @gay4hotmilfs @tofu9162 @dyslexic-dreamer @graniairish @colettehope @kosmichs1 @nmhlver

[shadyfestivalperfection]

🄵🄰🄼🄸🄻🅈:🄰🅂🅂🄴🄼🄱🄻🄴🄳

❝❣︎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

(This is not the first episode, it’s an introduction.)✨Escaping From hell on…21st April✨

❝𝕎𝔼𝕃ℂ𝕆𝕄𝔼 𝕋𝕆 𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝕊𝕋𝔸ℝ𝕂 𝔽𝔸𝕄𝕀𝕃𝕐❞

Meet the Starks: A Totally Normal Family (Not Really)

1. Tony Stark – The Dad (aka Iron Man, aka Chaos with a Credit Card)

Genius. Billionaire. Former playboy. Still a philanthropist.

Now a full-time dad who once built a suit of armor to keep his daughter’s teddy bear warm. He’s the kind of parent who says “no” while actively enabling the chaos. Has a habit of turning household appliances into potential death traps “for science.”

Favorite phrase: “What could possibly go wrong?”

2. Y/n Stark – The Mom (aka Sanity in Human Form)

Sharp, witty, and somehow still sane despite being married to Tony. A former field agent with a black belt in sarcasm and multitasking. She’s the glue that holds the family together—and occasionally the one that duct tapes it when it falls apart.

Can make pancakes, dodge flying armor parts, and shut down Stark Tower’s power grid in heels.

Favorite phrase: “I swear, if something explodes before 9 a.m…”

3. Peter Parker-Stark – The Son (aka Spider-Bro)

The neighborhood Spider-Man and certified science nerd. Adopted by Tony after a rollercoaster of mentorship, emotional bonding, and about 18 near-death experiences. Now part of the family, and completely regretting introducing Liliana to web shooters.

Lives in a constant state of “Please don’t tell Mom” and “Why is there glitter in my backpack?”

Favorite phrase: “I didn’t mean to blow it up this time, I swear!”

4. Liliana Stark – The Daughter (aka Iron Princess)

Seven years old and already more dangerous than half the Avengers.

Loves pink, sparkles, tea parties, and building things that shouldn’t legally exist. Wears Iron Man gauntlets over her Elsa dress and once hacked FRIDAY to only respond to “Your Royal Highness.”

Favorite phrase: “Activate glitter missiles!”

Together, they’re the Stark family.

One genius. One goddess of patience.

One spider-kid. One glitter-wielding war machine.

And more chaos than any universe can handle.

[Scene: Stark Tower Penthouse – Saturday Morning Chaos]

[The camera focuses across a kitchen filled with smoke, glitter, web fluid, and half-cooked pancakes.]

Tony (yelling over sparks):“Okay, note to self: Toasters should not be upgraded with arc reactor tech!”

Y/n (fanning smoke with a plate):“Note to you, you’re banned from the kitchen. Again.”

Peter (stuck to the fridge with webbing):“Uhh… help? I was just trying a new formula—”

Liliana (wearing Iron Man boots and a tutu):“I told you not to mess with the glitter serum! That’s my invention!”

Tony (grabbing Liliana’s helmet):“Kiddo, are you wearing my Mark 42 helmet as a cereal bowl?”

Liliana (proudly):“Yeah! It keeps the milk cool AND makes me sound like a robot!”

Y/n:“It’s 8:12 a.m. and I already need a nap.”

Peter (struggling):“I’m losing circulation in my webbed leg…”

Tony (grinning):“Just another normal day with the most perfect family in existence.”

Y/n (deadpan):“‘Perfect’ is doing a lot of heavy lifting in that sentence.”

Liliana (pressing a button on her gauntlet):“GLITTER MISSILES DEPLOYED!”

Peter (screaming):“NOOOOO—!”

[BOOM. A puff of glitter explodes across the kitchen. Everyone coughs. FRIDAY sighs in defeat.]

FRIDAY:“Would anyone like me to call emergency services… or just a therapist?”

[Scene: Stark Tower – Kitchen after the glitter explosion. Everyone is covered in sparkles. Cut to individual interviews, talking to the “camera.”]

[TONY – sitting in front of a workbench, wearing safety goggles and drinking coffee from a “#1 Genius Dad” mug]

Tony:“Hi. I’m Tony Stark. Genius. Billionaire. Inventor of cool things. Father of chaos goblins.Used to save the world—now I spend most of my days fixing Liliana’s robotic pets and trying to stop Peter from blowing up the lab.Honestly? Retirement’s… terrifying.”

[Y/N – sitting on the couch with a mug labeled “Too Tired for This”]

Y/n:“I’m Y/n Stark. Wife of the genius. Mother of two. Referee of every sibling battle, food fight, and glitter war.I love my family, I really do.But if someone doesn’t de-glitter the couch, I will start throwing people off the balcony. Lovingly.”

[PETER – still webbed to a fridge, trying to act cool]

Peter:“Peter Parker. Technically adopted, emotionally scarred.Being a Stark means unlimited tech, endless sarcasm, and very little peace and quiet.Also, Liliana made me pink armor once. I wore it. There are pictures. Please don’t ask.”

[LILIANA – wearing a cape, goggles, and a jetpack she built out of juice boxes]

Liliana:“I’m Liliana Stark. Seven. Scientist. Princess of Doom.Dad says I’m a genius. Mom says I’m exhausting. I say—activate glitter missiles!”

[She presses a button. Confetti explodes behind her.]

Liliana (grinning):“Perfection.”

[Back to group shot – all sitting on the couch, covered in glitter, eating pancakes.]

Tony:“So yeah. This is us.”

Peter:“Some people play board games. We battle murder-bots.”

Y/n:“And clean up glitter. Always the glitter.”

Liliana:“And next week, we’re building a rocket to the moon!”

Tony (whispering):“She’s not kidding.”

[They all look into the camera, smiling like the most chaotic, loving family in the universe.]

ALL TOGETHER:

“Welcome to the Stark family.”

-Season 1 Episode 1 Coming soon!

[distracted-milkshake]

Tony Stark A-Z Cuddling Headcanons:

Warnings: mentions of sex adjacent things (aftercare), literally nothing else

A. Apart. If they really like cuddling, how do they feel when the can't? Do they substitute pillows? He doesn’t like to admit it, but he gets used to it and feels deprived to the point of having trouble falling asleep when he can’t. He gets fidgety, but won’t bring himself to make do with pillows or anything else, that’s not what does it for him

B. Breathing. Does their breathing slow down, speed up or stay the same when they're really close to someone else? It slows down noticeably, something that’s been difficult to get into with him is how no matter what’s happening, he’s always just that bit stressed. It’s more evident when he’s actual able to relax, just how tense and controlled he usually is looks like a different person in comparison

C. Contact. Is skin-to-skin uncomfortable for them? To start? Oh yeah. Any skin on skin that wasn’t sexual just felt off, but after some time he started wanting to be able to feel your bare arms, chest or back against him

D. Daytime. Morning, evening, midday or night, when do they prefer and when do they cuddle better? He cuddles best in the evenings, after everything else has been officially put aside for bed

E. Efficiency. Are they utilitarian about it? Do they have to be able to get something done while cuddling or can they get completely lost in it? He needs it to manage to take his mind off everything for even a minute, it’s one of few things he can convince himself is more about you than him, and therefore not a waste of time to not be getting anything else done in the meanwhile. Doesn’t mean he hasn’t tried

F. Frequency. How often do they like to cuddle? If he could, it would be for hours every other day and twice on Sundays. He absolutely refuses to beg or even ask more than once a week, however, so he makes do with just every now and then

G. Generally. Are they more of an active snuggler or a passive holder? Are they delicate and slow or more rough and nuzzly? Fully on the fucking little spoon Tony, you cannot tell me this man has the emotional wherewithal to give much more than a stiff hug. He needs to be held to even realize he wants it

H. Height. Do they prefer to be above or below or right at their partner's eye level? Below, he likes to be able to bury his face against you and feel your heartbeat

I. Irritated. Does it come naturally? Are they upset they aren't good at it? Is there anything that really annoys them? It’s always gotta end, whether it’s work or calls or just plain discomfort, he can’t just rest with you forever and sometimes he really, really wants to

J. Jittering. How good are they at holding still and not elbowing/kneeing their partner? Once he gets into it he’s pretty good about that, but before getting settled he can be unbearable

K. Kissing. Is cuddling inherently romantic for them? The question sort of lacks application. You’re inherently the romance of his life, and he thinks of you that way, but you’re also his best friend, so split the difference? Cuddling is an expression of love for you, in all the ways he feels it

L. Location. Pretty self explanatory; couch, bed, grass, bench, floor, etc... Where's the snuggling getting down at? Literally anywhere, if you’ve got a minute, and he’s tired, or drunk, or down, he will cuddle up to you without any preamble, with or without reciprocation

M. Meaning. What does cuddling mean to them, like, does it make them feel loved? Is it a reminder of relationships past in a good or bad way? He’s never really been close in that way to anyone, so it feels very special to share it with you

N. Nest. Are they That Person™ who likes to make a whole piling pallet of pillows and blankets and plushies that uses every soft object within a quarter-mile radius? Nope! Not the nesting, but the nestling type, your the best pillow in the whole world as far as he’s concerned, and he would gladly nap on concrete if you were next to him

O. Opinion. Do they even like cuddling? Are they open to it? Would they prefer to show affection some other way? He loves it. It’s easier than talking, and it shows he loves you without having to get into anything all that difficult

P. Positions. (First person to make a sex joke gets it) This article is incredibly helpful. He really likes to face you. Anything with him on your chest, lap, or in your arms is ideal

Q. Questions. Do they feel like talking in ways they otherwise wouldn't when cuddling? Does it help them open up? Depending on the context, it absolutely can help him get to deeper feelings express himself in less extravagant and more meaningful ways

R. Response. If they haven't cuddled with their partner at all before, how do they react when first asked? He was by no means against it, it just felt like a weird, kind of juvenile thing to him, especially outside of the context of aftercare or falling asleep

S. Spooning. You knew it was coming. Who's the big/little spoon? Or knife. Fork? Spork...? (are they neither a spoon nor a spooned?) As already established, Tony is the little spoon I will die on this damn hill, that waist was made to be held

T. Temperature. Assuming it's already a comfortable for them temperature in the house/room/place, do they want to be warmer or cooler cuddling? Blankets are a no unless your looking for him to fall asleep, he prefers to have airflow and not build up a lot of body heat while cuddling

U. Under. Assuming they don't exclusively cuddle sideways, do they want the other person on top of them or vice versa? He loves feeling supported by you, he tends to get a little uncomfortable with your weight on top of him for too long, unless it’s any of his limbs in which case he’ll let them fall asleep and not notice till you move

V. Volume. Do they need silence or can other things be going on? It isn’t necessary, but it is preferable for him that other things are nonexistent or at least stalled

W. Wallowing. Is it emotional for them, and if so in a good way or a bad way? The first time Tony cried in front of you was when you were cuddling. The worst part was how much he thought he’d messed up, trying to deny or justify why, the reason wasn’t as heartbreaking as his inability to accept that it was okay. He’s still working up to letting himself feel things that intensely, and knowing he’s allowed to

X. eXplaining. Would they feel embarrassed if someone else walked in on them and their s/o cuddling? He has no shame, so pretty much no, but he would feel the need to explain himself

Y. Yours. Are they generous or do they kinda take what they want? Usually a pretty selfish partner in general, but he’s been getting better at it

Z. Zzz.... Does almost none of this matter if it just puts them to sleep...? Tony sleeps an absolute rock, but the good news that makes him a great sleep cuddler, and an even better weighted blanket

He just loves being physically close to you, whether cuddling or not

Blank List

[19blackbutterfly97-blog]

Twisted Bonds - Part 6

Word Count: 4,191

Warnings: language, drinking/being drunk, mutual pining

A.N.: Wow, so I know this part is so long but I just couldn't stop! Also, I'm working on an actual Masterlist for my other fics and drabbles I've posted. BTW, I'm cross-posting this on A03 so let me know if you want the link for it. Okay, I think I'm done now. Thank you for the likes, comments& reblogs!! Ya'll are the best!!!!

>>>><<<<

Twisted Bonds Masterlist

>>>><<<<

“What the…” Alice trails off, the pretzel stick that was precariously perched between her teeth fell unceremoniously to the desk as she stared at her computer screen. “Stark tech this, Stark tech that. Blech!” She mumbled and wrote a few things down before forcing the device to restart again. This was the third time this morning that the “new and improved” computer Tony provided to her needed to be restarted because of its seemingly habitual freezing habit. She was already tired from not getting a full night’s sleep and now she’s frustrated beyond belief.

“What’s the word, little bird?” Sam asks as he leans against the doorframe.

“Have I ever told you how much I hate that nickname? It doesn’t even make sense.” Alice grumbles and starts dusting crumbs off the desk.

“Yes, which is exactly why I keep using it.” He chuckles and walks further in the room. “Whatcha working on?”

“I’m trying to get the intel Stark asked for about this potential threat but his damn computer keeps freezing up on me anytime I open more than one program.”

“Sounds about right. Genius tech guy but a simple computer is a challenge.”

“I swear he did it on purpose just so I’d have to track him down and be stuck around him.”

“Are you complaining?” Sam teases, “what’s wrong? You had only one Alpha fawning over you this morning?”

“That’s not funny.” Alice snaps back which causes Sam to laugh.

“It is, you’re just too close to the situation to appreciate it.” She rolls her eyes and focuses on the screen again. Sam silently chuckles and continues talking, totally unbothered by the death glare Alice attempts when he speaks. “In other news, Stark is having a party tonight. All Avengers are required to attend.”

“Cool, you guys have fun.”

“Wrong! You’re an Avenger now too, you’re going.”

“I’m an analyst not an Avenger.”

“You’re working a case with us that makes you an Avenger temporarily, and before you start trying to get out of it: Nat has a dress you can borrow, Wanda offered to do your hair, Tony has you on the guest list and I’m assigning myself as your escort for the night.” Alice stares at him in disbelief as he throws out every single complaint or excuse she could muster up. “You’re going. No complaints.”

“Fine, but the dress better not be flashy or show anything off and I get at least one drink.”

“Ooooh, you drive such a hard bargain… you can drink as much as you want because the dress will probably show off more than you’d like.” Sam says with a knowing smirk before spinning and rushing out of the room.

“Sam? Sam! What does that mean Sam?!” Alice yells after him in a slightly panicked voice. She plops back down in her plush office chair and drops her head in her hands with a groan. “Do they ever actually work? This place is like a damn frat house half the time…” She glances up at the computer screen and sighs, “this is going to be a long night.”

A few hours later Alice had abandoned her office with a promise from Tony that her computer would be fixed by morning. She was trying her hardest to sneak through the living room to go take a nap and hopefully avoid everyone else. It was a nice thought that was thrown out the huge bay windows when a super soldier spoke up. “They forcing you to dress up tonight, too?”

Alice freezes mid-step and looks at Bucky. “Yeah, you?”

“Yep. Suit jacket and everything.”

“Natasha picked out my dress.” It was strange how the conversation was so casual after two weeks of avoiding each other and Bucky only talking to her when totally necessary.

“Oh, that’ll work out for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. ‘M sure you’ll look great.” Bucky mumbles before turning his attention back to the windows and the cityscape outside. What Bucky meant to say was that she could show up in a burlap sack and she’d still be the most mouthwatering, gorgeous thing on the planet. Alice of course took offence to the comment, huffed and continued her stealthy mission upstairs. After that she was even more desperate for a nap but again, the universe had other plans for her.

“Please tell me you washed your hair this morning?” Wanda asks as soon as Alice steps in her den.

“OH, COME ON!” Alice groans loudly. “If it’s not one of them it’s one of you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Natasha chuckles and sits up on the loveseat in the corner of the room. “It means that the Alpha males around here are getting to be too much for our favorite analyst.”

“Do either of you know how to knock? Or at least wait outside?”

“Why? You don’t have a nest or anything.” Wanda huffs.

“Not really the point. This is still my den. My space.” Alice explains and kicks off her shoes before crawling into her bed. She starts shoving the few pillows and blankets she has around, almost like she’s looking for something. “The one place in the entire compound Alphas can’t get to me unless I ask them to.”

“How well is that working out for you?” Nat asks with amusement.

“Was working out fine until now apparently.” She mumbles back. After a moment Alice resorts to tossing the soft materials out of the bed, still in search of something. “Do you guys smell that? Smells like oil and leather.”

Nat and Wanda exchange a glance then smirk. “So, it smells like Bucky?” Wanda finally asks. “Why would anything in here smell like him?” Alice sighs and dramatically falls back to the mattress causing the others to laugh and move to hover over her. “So… you’re deciding already, huh?”

“No, I’m not deciding anything. I’m here to work, not to find a mate.”

“Right, right, but you’re the only one that can smell Bucky in here at all. Which is weird considering how much time you’ve been spending with Steve.”

“Don’t start, Nat. I have enough going on right now without having two alphas absentmindedly fighting over me.”

“Mutual pining and love triangle.” Wanda teases in a sing-song voice. Nat and Alice both glare at her. “What? They’re classic tropes.”

“I’m not pinning and I’m non in a love triangle.”

“If you say so but between you and me? Bucky likes you.”

“And Steve takes care of you.” Nat adds.

“I’m not here to find a mate.”

“Maybe not, but two potential mates found you.” Nat chuckles and bends down to pull Alice off the mattress. "C'mon, we've gotta get you ready for your big debut."

"It's not a debut."

"It totally is." Wanda laughs as they usher her into the bathroom. "Alright, we're gonna see about getting this mess under control, then worry about make-up, then we'll get you dressed."

Alice glanced at the dress hanging on the back of her bathroom door. It's a gold sequin dress with a U-shaped neckline, if you look a little closer it's similar to the one Taylor Swift wore for Fearless. She smiled a little and let herself be guided to the edge of the tub to sit and give Wanda room to work on her hair. Wanda grumbles as she brushes out the knots and tangles and Nat got started on her make-up.

After a while and a short debacle about Alice's preference for inner corner versus Nat's love for a cat eye, which Nat ultimately won, she was staring at herself in the mirror. The golden dress hugged Alice's tiny curves almost perfectly, strands of fringe cascaded from the fabric making her look like a doll shaped bar of gold. Her loose curls were tamed down and pulled into a twisted half up, her dark bangs framing her face and eyes, the whole thing adorned with a sunflower hair clip. Now, it should have been obvious at this point that Natasha and Wanda were playing their own game of matchmaker but Alice stayed oblivious. A small smile continued to tug the corner of her lips, she looked like a real Omega for once in her life. Her natural beauty highlighted by Natasha's makeup skills and Wanda's special gift for haircare. She wasn't sure how long she'd been standing there staring at herself before the girls dragged her away to the party. She walked in behind them and went on edge feeling open, exposed and vulnerable without the usual comfort of a chunky cardigan.

To say she drew attention would be an understatement. As the group brisked through the crowd Alice was far too aware of the unusual amount of Alphas staring at her like she was a piece of meat on display for them. Bucky however didn't see it that way. To him, she was a gorgeous drop of sunshine put on the planet just for him. The sight of any other Alpha even glancing her way was almost enough to set him off on a rampage. He fought hard against his instincts to stay put next to Steve, reminding himself again that she wasn't his. Bucky's swirling territorial tendencies didn't calm down until he saw Sam walk over and put his hand on Alice's back to lead her through the crowd. He didn't see the Beta as a threat and he already knew Sam took it upon himself to look after Alice for the night. It was a short lived relief when he realized that Sam guided her to the bar.

Omegas didn't usually drink, Alice was no exception. She didn't like beer or wine, claiming both carry an odd flavor no matter which brand or type. She would usually opt to have an occasional mixed drink or nothing at all. Bucky already knew that, hence his growing irritation when she was handed a glass with a swirling pink drink topped with a few strawberry slices. Of course she'd go for something sickly sweet to match her well-hidden personality.

Bucky's eyes tracked her every move through the crowd. His jaw clenched and lips pressed in a thin line. He ignored the group around him as they laughed and joked. Bucky watched Alice like his life depended on it. Okay, maybe not his life but quite possibly his rut judging by the growing ache between his legs.

She looked even more beautiful than usual and he was convinced that the last bits of his mind were in jeopardy by the time Sam had directed her over to the group of Avengers. She stood next to him, almost pressed to his side as she quietly sipped her drink. Alice's eyes flickered up to his for a moment then back to Natasha and Clint. For once, she was thankful for his close proximity. She could subtly take in plenty of his scent and calm her nerves as much as she needed. Bucky's unique mix of Oil and thunderstorms started to be tainted with apple pie and seawater as Steve moved to stand on her other side. Both scents were comforting but in different ways. Steve reminded her of an overprotective older brother meanwhile Bucky's was a scent that she wanted to burrow in. She subtly shifted closer to Bucky, brushing back against him slightly. Bucky's entire being went on alert, his Alpha hindbrain trying to take over: Mine. He shook his head and the thought away and forced himself to focus on the conversation around him.

"I've said it once and I'll say it again; we remember Budapest very differently." Clint says with a laugh while Nat rolled her eyes. Bucky noticed that something about that peeked Alice's interest. She slowly lowered her glass from her lips and looked at the pair expectantly.

"What's going through your head, Lil Bit?" Bucky asked, nudging her lightly.

"The files on their Budapest mission are mostly redacted."

"Okay?"

"Nobody but them know the whole story and they each have different accounts for what happened."

"And that's interesting to you?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Yeah, I guess it is..." She answers sheepishly. "Not to sound like a creep or anything but I kind of looked into everyone a bit when I got the job. I just wanted to know what I had gotten myself into before I started."

That didn't surprise Bucky as much as it should have. Nearly everyone knew about the Avengers, or the cliff notes version of them at least. Alice was just fortunate to have the clearance and resources available to do find a bit more information than what an average Google search would allow. If anything, he was pleased that she had the foresight to not take this job on totally blind at least that was until he realized that meant that she probably knew his past as well. His chronic self doubt kicked in again and he took a micro step back, his carefully built walls starting to rebuild again.

"So, you know about the Soldier?" He asked in a timid voice that caught Alice off guard. Apparently even the great Bucky Barnes was capable of feeling something.

"I read a few things." She admits, "then I sealed your file."

Now it was Bucky's turn to be off guard. "You did what?"

"I sealed it. Tony, Steve, Fury and I are the only ones with the clearance to open it."

"Why?"

Alice set her drink down on the high-top table in front of them before turning to look at him fully. She tilted her head back just enough for him to see the genuine look of care and concern in her eyes. "You've been exploited enough for one lifetime. I know it doesn't make sense, honestly it didn't make sense to me when I did it but I wanted to make sure that nobody could ever use that against you again. The only information anybody can access about you is the basics. A short bio, specs on your arm, and a limited medical history."

Bucky was sure that his heart was going to bust through his ribcage, jump out of his chest and nestle itself in her hands. He wasn't used to people taking that kind of protective approach to his past, even Steve. He was used to people finding out his name and instantly start shaking in their boots. Not Alice. When he thought back on it, she only ever acted scared of him once when they first met and in her defense, he sort of forced that reaction from her. Now, after only a couple of weeks, he felt guilty for even trying to push her away but he also felt guilty for wanting her as badly as he does.

"You're not upset are you? I can put it back the way it was if you want. I ju-"

"Don't you ever think I'm ever upset with you, Lil Bit." He cuts her off, his flesh hand reaching up to push a stray hair from her eyes. It's a soft, gentle motion but one that send butterflies fluttering in her stomach. "Thank you. I literally can't tell you how much that means to me."

"You deserve a clean slate. I would've done it for anyone."

He smirks a little, his hand still hovering over her cheek. "Yea? You'd wipe our good Cap's slate too?"

"Maybe. If he did something worth hiding at least." She teases back.

"Who did something worth hiding?" Sam asks, placing another drink in Alice's hand. The grating sound of his friend's voice makes Bucky drop his hand and an almost guilty look to take residence on his face.

"Nobody." She giggles and sips her drink. "We were talking hypotheticals."

"Oh, fun. You got a minute? I want to introduce you to some of our mission coordinators." 

Alice glances at Bucky for a moment before taking Sam's arm and following him across the room. For the next hour and a half, Bucky watched longingly as Alice was led around the party by Sam. His adoration for her never faltering but giving way to annoyance then anger as Sam placed drink after drink in her hands until she was a stumbling mess. Her perfectly placed hair was starting to fall slightly and she had to lean against Sam to stay upright. He glanced at Steve, expecting him to be just as pissed about it only to find him oblivious to the situation while he flirts with Sharon. That again had Bucky almost raging. He never considered himself the king of morals but Steve put himself in charge of the Omega; he should be acting like it.

The pop music that was previously blasting from the speakers overhead gave way to the opening jazzy tune to Polka-dots and Moonbeams by Tommy Dorsey and Frank Sinatra. The song wasn't out when Bucky was a young man in the 1940s but it had a similar vibe and he genuinely enjoyed it. He could tell that apparently Alice did too, judging by her excited expression as Sam led her to the dance floor. Tony, Pepper, and Peter watched from the corner of the room while the super soldier made his way to the pair and tapped Sam on the shoulder.

"Training stuff." Bucky gruffed out when Sam turned to look at him, his eyes never leaving Alice's smile. A smile of his own graced Sam's face as he ceded to the Alpha. He knew what was up, no matter what excuse he was going to use.

Bucky mustered up some charm and courage he had hidden away as he took Alice's hand in his own and pulled her close. "This hand doesn't leave mine." He said and moved her other to rest on his shoulder. "And this one stays here. Got me, Lil Bit?"

"Got it, Bucky." Alice breathes out when he gently places his metal hand on her waist. She drunkenly smiles up at him. The rhythm of the song guides their movements to a gentle sway. Their eyes locked onto each other, the contact never breaking. It's said that music connects souls to each other and in this case that opinion is proven to be fact.

Alice and Bucky swayed in a carefully constructed bubble just big enough for the pair, unaware or uncaring of the eyes watching their every move as a bond of some sort formed between them. They weren't strangers. They weren't Mates. They weren't even friends, but a bond had formed nonetheless. Any annoyance or anger Bucky had melted away as the comforting scent of vanilla, lavender and coffee wafted in his nose. Any fear or insecurity Alice harbored was taken from her when Bucky guided her head to rest on his shoulder.

"Trust in your partner, right?" He murmured just loud enough for Alice to hear but no one else. This was their moment and he'd be dead before anyone took it from him.

"We're not partners, remember?" She slurred in response.

"Maybe not, but you're still my Lil Bit." Bucky says with a small smile that's so genuine even he can't believe it. The confession makes Alice's heart flutter. She purrs a little and leans against Bucky more; between the day's stress, the alcohol and the late night, she was exhausted. "All tuckered out, Omega?"

"Mhm, starting to." She mumbles and nuzzles her cheek against his shoulder.

Bucky smiles again and wraps his arm tighter around and starts to lead her off the dance floor. "C'mon, Lil Bit. Let's get you to bed."

Not even five minutes later Bucky was struggling through the door of his suite with Alice tucked against his chest, her pretty face nuzzled against his neck. He's fairly certain she's half asleep as he walks closer to his bed, trying to work out how to climb down without disturbing her. He kicks his boots off and nudges them to the side, jostling Alice a little. She giggles and pulls her head away to look around.

"This isn't my den." She slurs sleepily.

"You have security protocols in place. I wouldn't be able to get in and you aren't in the right mind to argue with F.R.I.D.A.Y.." He answers, slowly lowering to sit on the ledge of his bed. He looks down at his carefully constructed nest and a wave of anxiousness hits him. How is she going to react to this? Will she even notice? If she does, is she going to freak out? Maybe she'll take it as the grand gesture he means it to be and she'll reward him by taking care of the growing problem in his dress slacks. Nope. Can't go for that right now, she's drunk.

"Aww, it's so cute!" Alice coos and slips out of his lap and to the pile of blankets just below them. She crawls over and picks up the stuffed bunny he'd perfectly placed just for her. "Who's this little guy?"

Bucky bites his lip and slides down into the nest with her. Yes, this- THIS is right. My bed. My nest. My Omega. Mine. "He doesn't have a name."

"Why not?"

"Don't have an Omega to worry about that... technically." He mumbles the last bit under his breath.

"Then why'd you build a nest?" Alice asks, stroking her fingers over the bunny's ears.

"Just because I don't have an Omega officially doesn't mean I don't have my eyes on one." He says, laying down on his side. He's careful to keep space between them but he's still close enough to reach out and rest his hand on her side. With Alice now safely tucked away in the solitude of his room Bucky was finally comfortable enough to open up with her. He'd decided from the moment she put her hand in his earlier that he was going to admit his feelings to her. He didn't care if she would remember it in the morning or not. He had to get the words out.

"Who's the lucky girl?" Alice asks, her wide eyes focusing on Bucky again.

He smirks a little. "Depends, what do you think about my nest?"

"Why're you asking me?"

"I'd like an opinion from an Omega before I take my chances here."

Alice smiles again and looks around the nest. Bright, vibrant colored blankets surrounded her, paired perfectly with soft, plush pillows. The fabrics are a little disheveled from the pair nestles down but still mostly in place. Her fingers continue their soft strokes on the stuffie in her hands as she speaks. "It's nice. Comfy. She'll be happy."

The somber response wasn't quite what Bucky was looking for but it did stroke his ego just enough to feel emboldened to pull her closer. She smelled so sweet and it went straight to his groin. "Glad you like it, 'Mega."

Alice lays down next to him. She wasn't sure why, but it felt right. "When are you going to show it to her?"

The question causes Bucky to pause for a moment. "I already did."

She smiles again and wiggles around to get closer to him. Her emerald eyes practically shined in the dark as she gave him a hopeful look before leaning in. She wasn't sure if it was her real feelings, her instincts or the alcohol but before she knew it she was pressing her slightly chapped lips to his soft ones.

Noble intentions, Bucky. Don't fuck this up. Bucky reminded himself as his metal hand tentatively reached up and tangled in her hair, keeping her lips to his. Alice's hands abandoned the bunny in favor of trailing them up his chest. Her fingers curled into his shirt at his shoulders. Bucky's flesh hand snaked underneath her and wrapped around her waist. The kiss had started off slow and gentle but was quickly turning more feral with each shared breath. He knew the moment she started grinding against him that he had to break the kiss before he crossed a line. Consent is key and he won't take advantage of her in this condition.

"You're drunk Lil Bit." He husked out, pulling away just enough to look at the little Omega in his arms. She could only respond with a soft whine as she tried to kiss him again but he turned his head to the side. "Can't do it, babydoll. Not tonight... Just let me hold you."

He wasn't sure how he managed to convince Alice to settle down again but he did. A short while later, she was laying across his chest. Her head right over his pounding heart with a sleepy smile on her face. The shimmery gold dress she wore looked uncomfortable and that wouldn't do. He eventually changed her into his Red Henley, but only after he was sure she was totally asleep. She was too precious to wake up right now. He smiled to himself as he nuzzled his face against her neck, letting the scent of vanilla, lavender and honey lull him to a peaceful sleep.

This is bliss, and he was in love.