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#iron man fanfiction
tonystarkissist · 7 hours ago
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Anybody up for another Uncle Tony fic??
I’m thinking the next installment should be expected some time this week... hopefully ;)
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breadqueen95 · 16 hours ago
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Comfort - Tony Stark
Tony Stark x fem!Reader
wc: 4k
plot: y/n is struggling, and insomnia is a constant. tony is there to help her through it. 
warnings: ptsd. trauma. mentions of torture and violence. nightmares. panic attacks. kidnapping and hostage situations. language. physical affection. age gap. 
a/n: i am nothing if not a tony stark simp. 
***
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“God fucking DAMN IT.” You nearly screamed, sitting bolt right up in your bed. Running a hand over your exhausted and flushed face, you tried to calm your racing heart for the hundredth time of the night.
The thousandth time that week.
The millionth time since you’d been back.
“Ma’am, you seem to be in distress,” JARVIS’ soothing voice echoed throughout your room, “shall I alert someone?”
The wonderful and surprisingly human AI asked you this several times a night. No matter how many times you’d said no, he always asked. Always checking in on you.
“No, it’s okay, I’ll be fine,” you murmured, “thank you, though. Will you open the blinds, please?”
“Of course, Ms. y/l/n.”
The opaque blinds drifted open, allowing the lights of New York City to flood your bedroom, illuminating the large space. You heaved yourself out of bed, stretching your tired and aching muscles, and meandered over to the windows. They were floor-to-ceiling; perfect for reminding you where you were, but also where you weren’t.
You weren’t strapped to that table in Russia.
You weren’t being tortured by nameless men with a vendetta you didn’t even understand, asking for things you didn’t have.
You were home. You were in Avengers Tower in New York City. Your teammates were sleeping soundly above and below you. They were safe, you were safe, the city was safe. You were all safe.
But safe was a relative term these days, wasn’t it? Ever since Russia, ever since the Battle of New York a year ago, nothing felt ‘safe’ anymore. Your own mind was a haven for turmoil. It never shut down, not even when you were running on three hours’ worth of sleep over a couple of days.
God, how many days had it gotten to this point? Three? Four? Too many to be healthy, that was for sure.
Usually when you hit this point of frustration, which was inevitable nearly every night, you put on an old tee shirt and some shorts and strolled down to the gym. You punched and kicked your anxiety and nightmares away until your body was screaming with exhaustion, and you could finally sleep for an hour or two.
Except that hadn’t been working, lately. And you’d pushed your body to your absolute limits last night, and today you could barely move without wincing. If you tried to pull that shit tonight, there was no way you’d walk away without some kind of injury. Then Natasha would have your ass. Then Steve, then Fury, basically anyone who gave a shit about you. And they were nothing compared to—
“Ms. Y/l/n, Mr. Stark would want to know that you’ve been struggling.”
Closing your eyes against the lights of the city, you leaned your forehead against the cool surface of the window.
“He’s got enough to deal with, JARVIS, you know that” you muttered, “Tony doesn’t need my shit on top of what he already has going on.”
“He worries about you already, you know.”
“Well, he doesn’t need to worry about me anymore than he already does,” You said with a tone of finality. JARVIS might be an AI, but he had been around humans enough to know when to stop. And stop he did, because he didn’t say anything else.
Tony had suffered after the Battle of New York. He already had so much trauma from his childhood to unpack, and everything that had happened, everything he had seen since becoming Iron Man…it tipped him right over the breaking point. He’d risked his life to get that nuclear bomb away from New York. He’d nearly died right in front of you, and he had been haunted by whatever he’d seen through the wormhole. Before you were sent to Russia, he’d been close to falling apart.
He seemed better, these days. But that might just be because you were closer to the edge than he was, you were never sure.
You needed sleep, and you didn’t know where to go to get it. Your apartment in the tower was too quiet. You’ve tried white noise, you’ve tried spa music, you’ve tried everything. Whenever you sleep, image after image of every awful thing from the past year blares in your mind until you wake up in a panic. When you’re in that quiet room, it take a moment to remember exactly when and where you are. The longer it takes, the worse it gets.
That’s how you learned to fear sleep.
So you needed to go find noise, right? Noise that reminded you what was real?
Resolving to do just that, you threw on a tank top over the sports bra you always went to bed in along with a pair of comfy shorts. You grabbed a blanket and pillow from your bed and padded out into the sitting room. Once again, way too quiet.
Okay, that was fine. This building was huge; there had to be somewhere that worked.
The gym, that was a good place to start. Your teammates had all sorts of weird sleep schedules. Some suffered from the same nightmares you did, and some were trying to readjust time zones after a mission abroad. Steve and Natasha usually unwind this way, and they might be there. If you could just hear them going at it, maybe that would be enough.
You rode the elevator down to the tenth floor, where the gym was. Stepping out into the huge room, the motion sensor lights lit up once the elevator doors opened completely. Shit, no luck here. No one was working out this late. Checking your phone, you saw it was 3:30am. You weren’t sure where else to go.
Thinking hard about your people (that’s what they were, really), you remembered that Bruce liked to stress bake at night sometimes. Thor did too when he was visiting, which he was. Okay cool; that would be your next try. You stepped back into the elevator and pressed the button for the fifteenth floor, where the communal kitchen was. You all had kitchens on your own floors, but you’ve all kind of nonverbally agreed that it was better to cook in the communal kitchen, especially at night. That way, if someone like you was looking for some support, they could find it there along with a good snack.
Once again, you stepped out into darkness. The room lit up once you walked in, but the counters and stovetops were spotless. The ovens seemed to have long since cooled from dinner. No one was baking tonight, it seemed. The refrigerator, unlike the quiet one in your own kitchen, let off a soft hum. It wasn’t perfect, but you honestly couldn’t think of where else to go.
You spread out my blanket on the floor right in front of the monstrous appliance, tossing your pillow down after it. You were getting to the point of sheer desperation. If you couldn’t get any sleep tonight, you’d have to talk to Dr. Schwarz, the psychologist on retainer for the team. You’d have to admit that something was wrong, and you’d have to take medication. You’d have to start processing.
That alone nearly sent you into a tailspin.
You tried to shove that particular feeling down and laid on the hard wooden floor. The hum of the fridge was definitely louder right next to it, but it wasn’t…quite enough. The quiet kept pressing in on your ears, leaving room for your brain to begin the gymnastics it always did.
Men beating your shins with a wooden board. Water boarding for hours. Screaming, demanding that you tell them where something was. Pulling out your fingernails, ripping your clothes off just to humiliate you--
You clapped your hands over your ears, trying to stifle the sounds that weren’t there. Making your eyes as wide as they would go, you focused on the small digital clock on the microwave. Without blinking, you homed in on those small numbers. There hadn’t been a clock in your cell; they wanted you as disoriented as possible.
You…you weren’t in your cell, right?
God, you was so sleep deprived. You were starting to hallucinate.
The shrieks of aliens as they careened down the sides of buildings. The terrified screams of innocent civilians as they tried to escape, get anywhere but where they were. The strange motors of their ships overhead in an endless cycle. The roar of the massive monsters as they circled and destroyed. And Tony, oh god, Tony going up into space—
Wait.
That was it.
Tony. Tony would almost definitely be in his lab, even this early in the morning. He was always there.
Clambering up off the floor on trembling legs, you bent down and grabbed your blanket and pillow. As you walked quickly toward the elevator, you asked, “JARVIS? Still there, buddy?”
“Of course, Ms. y/l/n. How can I assist you?”
“Is Tony down in the lab?”
“He is ma’am. Shall I tell him you’re coming?”
“No, don’t bother him if he’s busy. I’ll just wave. If he wants to let me in, he will.”
You swore, if JARVIS could sigh, he would. He was always insistent that Tony would want to see you. Even if he was right, you still didn’t want to bother him or guilt him into doing it if JARVIS happened to be wrong.
Tony and you had…an interesting relationship. You’d been part of the effort to assess him for the Avengers Initiative when Natasha had a last-minute mission, and you’d been part of his life ever since. He was older than you, but you felt closer to him than any of the other Avengers. Tony got you in a way that no one else did. You always, always felt safe with him. He was so unwilling to show anyone any kind of affection or trust, but he did so with you willingly and openly. Sarcasm was your method of communication, and your constant banter back and forth was the soundtrack of your friendship.
You didn’t trust anyone. But if you did, you’d start with him.  
There was the slight problem of your unreciprocated feelings for him. Fuck, why would he ever have any for you? You were a mess. Deception was in your job description, hell, that was how you’d first met. You was Julia Daniels then, not y/n y/l/n. There had been an instant attraction, at least on your part. He was so charming, so sarcastic, such an utter and complete asshole—
And you fell for him.
You had watched him change so much over the past few years, always for the better. Even still, he retained that sharp wit and sarcastic tone that you loved so much.
Even knowing he could never feel the same way for you, you knew he cared about you. You knew he wanted to help you, and that he worried about you. Like Tony, you hadn’t been the same since New York City, but you had been broken beyond repair after Russia. You were held captive for four months until the Avengers had found you. To this day you don’t know what they wanted from you.
Really, it had been Tony. He wouldn’t admit it, but Nat had told you he was a wreck. He was the one who managed to find you in the end, and then refused to stay home when everyone tried to tell him he was too close to you to make sound judgement.
But he had come anyway, and Tony carried you out of that hellhole in his arms.
The elevator dinged as it arrived on the basement level of the Tower, where Tony and Bruce’s lab was. Usually, no one else was allowed in here. But when it was just Tony, he usually made an exception for you.
The lights were on in the white entrance hall. Grinning despite yourself, you followed the glass walls to the sealed door down at the end. As soon as you were standing in front of those sliding doors, you saw him. He was sitting on a round stool, hunched over one of his many work tables, tinkering away on something or other. Tony hadn’t noticed you yet, and you took a minute just to admire him. He was wearing a black Queen tee shirt with dark jeans, completely at odds with the man he presented to the rest of the world. His dark brown hair was mussed, like he’d run his hands through it repeatedly while he was thinking.
This was Tony Stark. Your Tony.
Finally working up the courage, you knocked lightly on the door, trying not to scare him. It didn’t work, and he dropped his tools and jumped about ten feet. Whirling toward the door with wide brown eyes, he heaved a sigh of relief when he saw it was you. You waved, smirking a little. His lips moved in a silent command for JARVIS to open the door, the sound proofing doing its job. As soon as it opened, a blast of rock music nearly blew you off your feet.
Ah, noise. Thank GOD.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he said as he turned down the music, “I see you brought your overnight bag, didn’t know we were having a sleepover.” Even in the sarcastic way he said it, Tony stood and opened his arms in a silent invitation. Dropping your things, you stepped into them without even stopping. You buried your face in his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you securely to him.
You didn’t talk right away, just letting him hold you. You tried not to let the instantaneous relief of being there with him, of being in his arms, sweep you away completely. But he knew you better than anyone, of course he’d know you weren’t okay. He always knew.
“Hey, hey,” he whispered against your temple, “What’s going on?” With huge effort on your part, you stepped back and made yourself look up into his warm brown eyes.
“I haven’t slept, not in a few days,” You mumbled, “and I just…I needed…I need to remember I’m not…there.” You finished lamely, unsure of exactly how to explain it to him.
“Let me guess; room is too quiet?” Tony asked, reaching up with one hand to wrap his fingers in your hair. You nodded, so happy that he understood without your needing to go into anymore. “And…you ended up choosing my loud ass lab to try and sleep?”
“It was the noisiest place I could think of this late,” You said as you shrugged, trying to maintain a sense of nonchalance even through your desperation for sleep. “It was either you and your music or the fridge in the communal kitchen.”
“You…you were ready to sleep next to the fridge?”
“I tried, for a minute.” Pressing your lips together, you looked down at what he was working on. It looked like a piece of the suit. The same suit that was integral to keeping him safe and alive on missions. Damn it, you were completely interrupting. “Sorry, Tony. I know you’re busy, and I can go back upstairs, it would be fine—"
“Y/n, you’re not going anywhere,” he murmured as his hands slipped down to settle on your waist. “You look like you’ve got black designer bags under your eyes and you’re shaking so much I’m honestly worried you’re gonna keel over right here. Can’t have that, I kinda like having you around.”
“I just…I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”
“Contrary to that line of thinking, I don’t feel that way at all. If I can help you, I’m going to.” He tilted your chin to make you look back up at him. “I keep trying to get JARVIS to convince you to talk to me, you know.”
“What?” You asked, shocked. “That was you? I thought he was just—”
“Being nice? Being a pal? Sweetheart, he’s an AI.”
“Don’t knock JARVIS, he’s a good dude.” You quipped, punching him lightly on his arm. “But seriously Tony, that was you the whole time?”
Tony sighed, and this time it was him that looked down. His hands moved to rest on the small of your back, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you back into him. You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around him in turn, loving the feel of his body against yours. You buried your face into his shoulder again so he couldn’t see the tears threatening to fall, overwhelmed at this simple act of comfort.
“I thought I’d lost you. For months, I spent just about every second of every day looking for you. And now that you’re back, all I see is you falling apart. I …I can’t stand it. So yeah, I want to help you. In any way I can. That cool with you?”
You couldn’t even speak. God, he cared that much? Instead, you settled for nodding into his shirt, the tears finally slipping past your eyelashes.
“Honey, you’re getting my shirt wet.”
“Oh fuck,” You whispered, pulling away and furiously wiping at your cheeks. Tony gently grasped your hands, pulling them away. Then, ever so softly, he brushed the last few errant tears away with his thumbs as he cupped your face with his hands.
“Please,” he murmured, “let me help you from now on, okay?”
You couldn’t do anything but close your eyes and nod, letting the simple comfort of just being with your person sink in. The Avengers were your people, that much was clear, but Tony was your person. You were a disaster right now, that was obvious. But without Tony? You didn’t even want to think about where you’d be.  
Stepping past you, he bent over to grab your pillow and blanket. He spread out the blanket right by the bench he had been working at, dropping the pillow just past it.
“You’re sleeping right here, so plop on down,” he quipped.
“C’mon, Tony,” You muttered, “I thought I’d sleep out of the way, I don’t want to distract you.”
“See, here’s the thing,” he said, adopting a no-nonsense tone as he began to talk animatedly with his hands, “I’m going to be distracted beyond belief if I can’t see that beautiful face of yours. I need to be able to check on you, so no, you’re going to sleep right here.”
You rolled your eyes but smiled, shuffling over to where he was waiting. Right when you were about to lay down, you paused to wrap your arms around him again. He wasted no time, holding you right back without hesitation.
“Thank you for caring, Tony.”
Pressing his lips to your forehead in the gentlest of ways, he whispered, “I’d do anything for you, y/n. Anything.”
You tried to ignore the swooping sensation in your stomach. This; the loving words, the easy way you held each other, the pet names, the kisses to the forehead…it was all normal. It was incredibly typical for you to interact in this way, but even so, it was so hard for you to stop reading into it. You tried in vain to remind yourself of who he was and who you were. He was Tony Stark, billionaire superhero genius, beloved by the world. He could have anyone he wanted. You might be one of his best friends, but you weren’t an option in that. No matter how much you wanted to be.
You smiled weakly at him, then clambered down to the hard floor. No bed had ever felt so comfortable. You shifted onto your side so that you faced where he would be sitting. You needed to be able to see him if you had a nightmare and woke up in a panic.
“How loud do you want the music?”
“Blast it.”
He settled over his workbench, grinning as JARVIS turned the music back up to a ridiculously loud level. Even with the bass thrumming through your entire body, you were able to close your eyes without too much of a fight.
With Led Zeppelin and Tony’s tinkering as your background noise, you were finally able to fall asleep.
***
Tony couldn’t help but look down at Y/n every now and then. Her face was so peaceful and relaxed, so different from the awful emptiness and exhaustion that he saw every day when he looked at her. He watched her move around the Tower like she was a fucking ghost, and he hated it. Those gorgeous y/e/c eyes of hers, so bright and expressive before, were dull and lifeless.
She was haunted. Her mind had gone to a place he couldn’t get to, and that was infuriating.
She was curled in on herself, hands folded under her face like the princess she is. He found himself smiling as he watched her. Tony was thrilled she had finally said something, finally asked for some kind of help. Now he just had to get her into therapy, get her talking to someone who could get her past this. The girl he knew was a fighter; she was still in there, and he knew she could get through this.
His smile fell when he felt a pang deep in his chest, remembering those months where she was missing. It was torture. Nothing compared to what she went through, but he tore himself apart everyday trying to find her. He knew there was nothing he could’ve done to protect her, but he blamed himself anyway. Y/n was…is…his favorite person in the world. She means more to him than he could ever properly explain.
Tony knew what her job required. She was like Natasha, an intelligence agent for SHIELD. She was truly one of the best, earning her a spot with the Avengers tenfold. Even without any kind of special powers, her wit, quick thinking, and superior skills with a knife made up for it. The bastards had sent her on an undercover op in Russia. He knew she’d go dark; it had happened a few times since he met her all those years ago. But when Fury had told him what had happened, that she had been compromised and taken, it was like the floor fell from under him.
He shook his head, trying to get rid of those awful memories. Tony talked about them enough in his weekly therapy sessions, he didn’t need to deal with them any more than that. Turning back to his project, he continued modifying the power source for the suit. Now that the arc reactor had been removed from his chest, Tony had been experimenting with an outer arc reactor. He’d nearly perfected it, but he still thought of adjustments he could make.
As he worked, Tony’s mind began to wander, once again drifting to the woman sleeping on the floor next to him. The terrorists that had taken her sent them videos every now and then, taunting the team and SHIELD. They hurt her in every single one. He could tell she tried not to give them a reaction; she was stubborn in that way, and it showed how strong she was. But she always ended up screaming. Those screams echoed and rattled around in his head every second of every day.
Y/n had screamed for him in some of the videos. And he couldn’t get to her.
All at once, Tony felt sick. He dropped his tools, burying his face in his hands. He hadn’t cried in years before that, but since then, he’d cried too many times to count. The tears prickled behind his eyelids now just thinking about everything that had happened just in this past year. It was too much for one person to handle, even the genius billionaire philanthropist he was.
“JARVIS, turn down the tunes a bit,” he called quietly. Y/n might’ve needed them to get to sleep, but now that she was finally there, he didn’t want to risk waking her up for anything. JARVIS, thankfully without question, turned down the music until it was soft background noise.
Running his hands through his hair again, Tony looked back down again at Y/n. He needed her, and he was scared she was slipping away.
That couldn’t happen. Not to the woman he loved so desperately.
***
a/n: will there be a part 2 to this? idk we’ll see
general tag list: @cherrybarzy @amourtentiaa @vogueweasley​ 
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my-tony-stark-drawings · 22 hours ago
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The Hero and the Mermaid - masterlist
Chap 1 - A surprising encounter
Chap 2 - Nice to meet you
Chap 3 - Tell me everything
Chap 4 - Tada!
Chap 5 - Sandwitches
Chap 6 - Heart
Chap 7 - Song
Chap 8 - Who's that?
Chap 9 - Swimming Pool
Chap 10 - Beach
Chap 11 - Mermaid
---
#BringBackTonyStarktolife
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my-tony-stark-drawings · 22 hours ago
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Chap 11 - Mermaid
The sun was now beginning to set over the sparkling sea.
The couple was lying in the warm sand against the rocks.
"We're good here, aren't we?" the mermaid said with a smile.
"Mmmh.." replied Tony as he entwined his fingers with the woman's.
She turned her head and looked at him tenderly. His hair fluttered in the wind and he had a sincere, soothing smile.
She laid her head against him as he wrapped his arms around her and gently caressed her arm.
"I'm happy," she confided.
"And you?"
"I'm happy." Tony smiled.
She turned again to look at him and he placed a hand on the back of her neck looking at her lips.
The woman moved in to kiss him and as she approached she already felt her mermaid tail sparkled of love again.
But Tony's phone suddenly rang and distracted them from what was about to happen.
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Tony looked on reluctantly. This could be an emergency and he was always ready to help.
He sighed. " the investors for my project, they tell me they're ready to close the deal tonight if I go with them to the village party. I have to go," Tony said, standing up slowly.
"Okay.." the mermaid replied with a small disappointed smile.
"It won't take long." Reassured Tony as he kissed the back of her hand before pulling on a shirt. "I can assure you that this evening will be more boring for me than for you."
"Are you going to be okay?" She asked
"Honey I've been dealing with boring people since I was born" he reply and she laughed.
Then he left for the other side of the beach, to the village, where the lights were already beginning to come on for the celebrations.
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As Tony walked along the beach, he couldn't help but think how much he would rather stay with Y/N than go there.
But this project could save the world and he wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice his happiness for it.
And he sincerely believed that Y/N would be good even without him.
He arrived at the meeting point. A pretty place half in the village, half on the beach, or was almost already installed all that it was necessary. Dance floor, tables, stage, and floral decorations.
They were children who played anf they stopped when they saw him.
"Iron Man!" said one of them, pointing at him with a big smile.
Tony smiled sincerely and gave him a little wave of the hand.
Then he walked a little further into the crowd, past the reporters who quickly began to surround him, taking pictures and asking him questions.
"Mr. Stark, are you still single?"
"I hear you're working on a new project?"
"Can we have more details?"
Tony gave a fake smile this time, one of those that looked real if you weren't paying attention, and struggled to get out.
He slid back to the bar where he looked for the two idiots who had snatched him from such a beautiful moment he was having with Y/N.
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Y/N had pulled herself up on top of one of the rocks that hid them, and with her head sticking out slightly, she watched Tony in the distance.
It was far away but she could see the women sticking to him and although she had full confidence in Tony, it made her sad that she couldn't be one of them.
She felt her heart ache. It was now so many times that she saw him walking away from her because she can't follow, so many times that she couldn't be around him.
The evening was long and the mermaid could not stop thinking. She couldn't spend her whole life like this. She would give everything to walk. Walk with Tony, run with him, dance with him.. as any human can do.
The mermaid wagged her tail for a few moments in the moonlight before she felt something on her cheeks.
She passed her hand and looked at her salt tears.
The mermaids wept tears of salt, and it was one more thing that reminded her who she was.
She looked at her mermaid tail.
"I'm sick of it!" she shouted, hitting the water that reflected the painful truth.
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She looked at the ocean as far as the eye could see and thought of the stories she was told as a child. Those fairy tales that said a mermaid could become human if she wishes, if she really want to, and if her heart is pure, but then she only had only a few days to find her soulmate among men, and for him to confess his love. Or she would die.
She knew Tony was her soul mate. But were her feelings mutual? She could see that he loved her, but was it that much?
She couldn't help but feel that Tony deserved better than her, that she was too uncultured of this world and naive and that it would be selfish to force him to stay with her out of guilt.
And were these stories even true? Children were told so many false stories that they thought it was the old days.
After some time of reflection, she decided to try.
Y/N placed herself in the water to connect to her element and closed her eyes.
She thought back to the first time she saw Tony. His eyes. His kind attentions, his humor, his heart, his way of seeing things and everything that made her heart beat.
And Y/N felt truly connected to the power of the ocean and this world before being interrupted by a threatening voice:
"What are you doing little sister?"
---
Masterlist
---
#BringBackTonyStarktolife ♡
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How about a smut prompt no. 7 with Tony Stark ? ❤❤❤❤
Love to lose
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A/N: Thanks for requesting this lovely! Hope you like it :))
Gif’s not mine! Credits to the owner
Prompts used: Oral sex & “First one to make a noise loses.”
Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader
Warnings: 18+ smut, it’s dirty okay...
Word count: 2k
Requests & Challenges
Tony Stark Taglist: @raspberrymama @boop-le-snoot @ladyeliot @make-a-memory-drink-it-up @loveisallyouneed1125 @ownsmyheart @anthonyjanthony666 @downeyreads @the-secret-thief @getlostsquidward @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @elemephstudies @mycosmicparadise @feetoffthetablee
Everything Taglist: @godofplumsandthunder @ladyacrasia @agustdowney @swaggysposts @suchababie @another-stark-sub @littlegasps @kahlanmars @supraveng @disappointmentofthefam @pandaxnienke @tom-hlover @just-the-hiddles @asmigurub @avantgardium-leviosa @imerdwarf @gladiosamicitias @fanofalltheficsx @ladyburberry
Taglists open! Send me an ask or DM if you wish to be in any of these ;))
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“First one to make a noise loses? Seriously?”
“Yeah!”
“No!”
“I honestly thought you’d be more adventurous Tony.”
“Honey you’ll get all the adventure you want once I’m done with this project. You remember the night of four times, don’t you?”
Tony raised an eyebrow and smirked as your eyes lit up with thoughts of the night he mentioned, cheeks growing warm as your mind flooded with memories of the aforementioned night.
That night you’d lost all sense of cognition and your legs were pure jelly from being utterly fucked out.
It was never a dull moment when it came to you and Stark in the bedroom. He knew all the right ways to drive you crazy and you had come to learn to push all the right buttons to drive him insane.
“Tony come on! I know you’re up for it.”
You pointed to the half-mast erection currently staring back at you.
He glanced down at it before shaking his head and returning to the screen, soon getting engrossed in the information displayed in front of him. Eyebrows knitting together in concentration while his fingers flew over the surface, probably in search of something you didn’t care about.
You scowled for a little while, arms crossed over your chest before walking towards him with a look of determination that hid unattended lust.
Tony didn’t mind you stepping in between his legs as he leaned against the table behind, until you ghosted your fingers over the button of his denims.
Once you popped it open and undid his fly, he shot you a warning look before his phone rang, giving you time to push the jeans and his boxers down just enough to let his erection bounce free.
“You’re free to do whatever you want only if you’re prepared for the consequences sweetheart.” He warned before answering Phil Coulson’s call.
Desire bloomed deep in your belly as his words sent tingles down your spine, knowing the punishment would either be really good or really bad, depending on Tony’s mood. But you were willing to take the risk, it was always worth it in the end.
Shrugging, you dropped down to your knees, his semi-erect cock waiting for your ministrations as you eyed it before gazing up at Tony through your eyelashes innocently.
He was deep in conversation on the phone but the tight grip of his free hand on the edge of the counter and tapping of fingers against the surface indicated he was waiting for you to make your move.
Tony exhaled a breath he was unconsciously holding as your hand wrapped around his length. Taking your time with it, your hand lazily stroked his cock, thumb brushing over the tip every now and then.
“Please I understand Agent, don’t bore me with those unnecessary details..oh!”
Glancing down, he suppressed the rest of his reaction as your tongue joined the party. Small kitten licks over the tip before you drew a strip all the way to the base, all the while watching his demeanour change from composed to flustered.
You took him in your mouth and began swirling your tongue around his length, smirking when he faltered and brought his hand down to move your hair out of your face.
“I’m going over the details n-now. Oh yes—yes I’ll call Fury once I’m—I’m almost done here.”
Tony didn’t wait for Coulson to answer before he cut the call and practically threw the phone away. Letting out a groan, he jerked his hips forward, pushing himself deeper in your mouth as he grabbed you by your hair roughly, guiding your mouth over his cock.
“You’re in so much trouble baby...”
You simply hummed in response, continuing to finish him off as you increased your speed, feeling him twitch against your lips already. The little grunts Tony uttered spurred you on to bring him closer and closer to climax. Your own arousal had turned your panties moist as you watched his lust-blown eyes shut and bite his lip.
“Ah shit! You want me to cum in your mouth?”
You nodded eagerly as Tony’s hips jolted forward and he cursed out loud before shooting spurts of cum down your throat, face contorted in pleasure as he emptied himself, the warm salty liquid travelling down your throat.
He grabbed you by the back of your neck, making you stand before crashing his lips to yours, tasting himself as you deepened the kiss. You moved your clothed core over his softened cock to get some friction, gaining another groan from Tony who felt how moist you were.
“So wet my dirty girl. Will you give me an hour? I promise I’ll make it worth it.” Tony whispered softly, grabbed your hips to stop your grinding. Reluctant to let you go but the urgency with which Phil had called left him with no other choice than to make you wait.
“Fine. But if you’re late…”
“Trust me babe. I’ll be there sooner than you think.”
“Whatever.” He pecked your pouted lips one last time as you pulled his pants back up, turning to walk upstairs to your shared bedroom.
“Don’t touch yourself.”
“You’re in no position to make demands Stark.”
“Am I not?” Even with your back to him, you could sense he was giving you ‘the look’. The one that screamed ‘no matter what, I’m always in charge’. The man was really going to be the death of you some day.
“Ugh. Fine. Hurry up.”
.
“Okay so we need to establish some ground rules first.”
Your eyes snapped up from the book you were pretending to read as Tony swung the bedroom door and got in, locking it before sliding in next to you, resting his back against the headboard.
You were celebrating your victory on the inside because just minutes ago he’d made fun of you for coming up with this game, only to now come up with modifications for the same.
Like a good girl you had behaved, controlled the urge to bring yourself to an orgasm after that little session downstairs. You were still wet, which meant he already had more chances of winning at your game.
This was a bad idea. Why hadn’t you thought this through?
“Hon?”
“Huh?”
“The rules?”
Mentally shaking yourself for zoning out, you sat up straight and faced him.
“Alright. Whines are allowed. Moans aren’t.”
“Fair enough.”
“No oral sex.”
“Not acceptable. You know I owe you for that amazing blow-job. Come on now..”
“Fine. But no fingering.”
Tony made a non-committal huff but agreed, knowing how much his fingers spurred you on.
You went back and forth discussing, rejecting and accepting the terms and conditions as if it were a legit deal.
Soon after you shook on it, there was a switch in the air and neither of you felt the need to say much else except get on with the game.
Climbing in Tony’s lap, you cupped the sides of his face and pressed your lips to his. Softly grazing against each other at first while you fingers teased the base of his neck.
He carded his hands through your hair before pulling you against his chest, hands now splayed across your back as he slanted his mouth over yours and deepened the kiss.
Maneuvering a little so his legs straightened out on the bed, Tony heard a tiny sigh escape your lips as your aroused core met with his growing bulge. Keeping those noises that threatened to leave your mouth turned out to be harder than you had both imagined. You two were quite vocal when it came to sex.
It was difficult, but all the more exciting.
After a while, the make-out session turned out to be insufficient and Tony had you on your back, your clothes removed and thrown carelessly somewhere behind as he settled between your legs.
You had to bite back a moan as Tony’s lips travelled down your neck, littering tiny kisses all over the skin before he found that junction where your neck met your shoulder, the pulse point which he so generously marked a spot on, sure to leave a purple bruise in its place. On cue, your head moved aside to grant him more access as your breaths turned to pants, finding it hard not to think about his bulge that was rubbing so deliciously against your heated core in slow but deliberate thrusts.
You had to push him away to make sure you didn’t lose so soon, that sure earned a chuckle from the genius. Moving further south, he latched onto one of your nipples and flicked his tongue along the bud all the while massaging and kneading the other in his hand. A sigh had involuntarily slipped out, it wasn’t breaking any rules but it sure made Tony gaze up with lust-blown eyes as a smirk appeared on that handsome face.
Trailing kisses along your navel, he reached between your legs and stopped. You shot him a warning look as you sat up on your elbows when his fingers teased along your wet folds, causing him to throw his hands up in surrender before diving in face first into your pussy.
Closing a hand over your mouth, you let your head fall back onto the pillows as Tony licked a fat strip along your wetness, his nose brushing against your bundle of nerves. It didn’t take long for you to feel your heartbeat on your throbbing clit, Tony leaving no stone unturned to make sure you were a needy mess below him.
“What was that baby girl?” He purred, facial hair glazed with your juices when he emerged, giving you a shit-eating grin after you shook your head.
You were so close.
Flipping you on your stomach, you heard him unbutton his jeans and drop them in a low thud on the ground. His hands pulled your ass up in the air, urging the cheeks apart before his cock met your entrance, gathering your wetness, your pussy aching for release at this point.
“Tony..”
“Giving up already?”
Instead of answering, you reached behind, grabbed his cock in your hand and lined him up at your entrance before pushing your hips back. Both of you swallowed your groans as he bottomed out, stretching your walls to the fullest before pulling all the way out and thrusting in.
Your knuckles turned white from gripping the sheets as you were almost ready to give up and accept defeat, until you felt his cock twitch inside you, a sign Tony wasn’t too far along from doing the same either.
Your walls clenched around his cock deliberately, hugging it in their wet warmth and eliciting an involuntary groan from the man.
“What was that honey?”
You teased, repeating the action only to have Tony pull out suddenly, turn you around once more and pull your legs over his shoulder before entering you again.
“You fucking tease..”
“You’re the one to talk. Now shut up and fuck me.”
Snapping his hips to yours at a furious pace, Tony gripped your legs roughly and bit your ankle. The silly little game long forgotten, you let out a pornographic moan as you felt the muscles in your belly contract, thighs tremble and mind turn into a fuzzy blur.
“Cum with me Tony..” you begged as he let go of your legs and buried his face in your neck, a hand snaking downward to rub your oversensitive clit.
“Do that thing again.”
His urgent whisper came out muffled by your hair but you knew what he was talking about. You granted his wish by pulling on his cock with your walls and felt his hips lose their rhythm. He came loud and hard, spilling inside you in spurts triggering your own orgasm as you cried out, digging your nails in his back as you shuddered.
Once you felt yourself float back down to reality, you brought your hands to caress Tony’s hair while he chuckled against the skin on your neck, repeatedly kissing you over there.
“It’s a draw then?” He mumbled.
“Yep.”
“You want a rematch?”
“Definitely.”
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iwritedumbshit · a day ago
Text
Comfort in My Shadow
Chapter 8: Forgiven
By @iwritedumbshit for @iron-mum
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Ned Leeds, James “Rhodey” Rhodes
Summary: Soulmates are definite in the universe. Nobody knows exactly why they exist, or what dictates who is bonded to who, the only thing known is that they are never wrong. But Peter’s not so sure about that.
Living at the group home had taught Peter a lot about laying low and how to stay alive when nobody cares. But he’d always clung to the hope of the shadow at his feet reflecting his soulmate that had watched over him for years.
Typical that his soulmate is actually a superhero that Peter is convinced shouldn’t want anything to do with him. Maybe, just this once, the Universe was wrong.
But Tony Stark is desperate to prove that it is right.
Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7
---
Peter wasn't quite sure how long he lay in the warm sand, his and Mr. Stark's hands lazily entwined while the vulture lay a few feet away, webbed to a crate, but he didn't really care. For the first time in days--months, really--he felt okay. He felt calm and safe, never mind the pain in his ribs and licking at his burnt skin, they didn't matter to the teenager. He'd heal. He always did.
After a few more minutes, there was the sound of sirens. Peter propped himself up, staring at the approaching red and blue lights, his heart dropping slightly. He guessed this was it. Mr. Stark would have to deal with the plane and Peter would have to deal with Mr. Fowler. He wasn't quite sure how mad the man was going to be at him being gone for two days, but glancing down at his soulmate, he didn't particularly care. He'd get to see Mr. Stark again soon, and that was all he really needed to push himself to his feet.
Mr. Stark glanced at him, picking himself up as well and placing a gentle hand on Peter's shoulder before turning to stare at where every emergency vehicle ever was arriving.
"Guess it's time for clean up," Mr. Stark said, whistling lowly. "Happy is not gonna be too please with me."
"I'm sure you'll be able to handle him, Mr. Stark," Peter responded, fishing his mask out of the sand and shaking it out.
"Eh. I'm not super up to it. However, if I tell him I'm taking care of a sick and injured child, I might get away with it for the night."
Peter laughed. "Better find an injured child first."
"I found one." Mr. Stark wrapped a loose arm over Peter's shoulder, corralling him forward. "Don't think you're getting out of this that easily. The Medbay at the compound is waiting for your burnt behind. C'mon, let's go."
"Mr. Stark, I gotta--"
"Get to medical, correct."
"No. Mr. Fowler--"
"Has already counted you as missing for two days. Your curfew is long broken," Mr. Stark countered, moving to say something else when a shiny black car slid to a halt in front of him. More cars and vehicles followed suit. Mr. Stark gave him a smirked glance. "Might want to put that mask on if your secret identity still matters to you."
Peter slipped the mask over his face, following the man as people poured out of the vehicles. Mr. Stark stepped up to a tall man with a surly face and a tightly wound posture, practically storming over to the billionaire. His first instinct was to step in front of Mr. Stark, but the mechanic didn't tense at all, instead slipping into a slightly strained smile.
"What the hell happened here, Tony?" the man asked, glancing over at Peter in confusion.
"Criminal mastermind. He's webbed up back there," Mr. Stark said. After a tired moment, the man shook his head.
"You look half-dead. Go see an ambulance. Call Pepper. I'll take care of this."
"No can do, Happy," Mr. Stark responded, gesturing to where Peter was standing uneasily. "We're gonna head to the Medbay. I'll see you at the compound."
Happy looked ready to argue, but with one last glance at Peter, he just shook his head again. He looked like he was about to burst from the stress. "Do you need my car?"
"Mine's still running."
"Good. Call me when you get there."
"Definitely, Mama Bear. Come on, kid."
Nervously, Peter circled around Happy, following Mr. Stark quickly to where the sleek car was waiting. The engine was still running, and he guessed that Mr. Stark had left the keys in in his mad dash to get onto the beach and help him out. He blinked in slightly dazed confusion, unused to being important. To being cared for.
The sound of the car door opening distracted Peter from his thoughts, drawing his attention to where Mr. Stark had opened the back door of the vehicle. The man gestured between it and Peter.
"Well? You getting in or not?"
"Am I being demoted from shotgun?" Peter snipped, but he got in nonetheless. Surprisingly, Mr. Stark slipped in after him.
"No. We're gonna make sure you're not dying," Mr. Stark said. "Friday. To the compound."
"Of course, sir," the cool robot voice responded, and the car started off, riding easily back onto the street. Peter finally took his sandy mask back off, grimacing at the grit that had slipped into the cuts on his face and watching with a sharp eye as Mr. Stark pulled out a first aid kit from underneath the seat. It was ridiculously big and, when he opened it, ridiculously well stocked.
"Okay. Suit off, Petey-Pie, let's see what we're working with."
"Hey! I just got you back on the nicknames!" he protested. Mr. Stark fixed him with a smile.
"Your AI came up with Peter-butter. My turn. Now: Suit please."
With a tired grumble, the teenager pressed the spider on his chest and peeled the suit from his skin coated in a thin layer of blood and dried sweat. He grimaced, blushing at the sight of his thin ribs. To his credit, Mr. Stark didn't say anything, didn't even stare at how gaunt he was, just poured some rubbing alcohol on a cloth and went for the nearest wound on Peter's chest.
He held back a pained hiss at the sting.
"Hold that in place," Mr. Stark ordered. Peter placed his own hand over where the cloth was, and Mr. Stark returned to grabbing more materials for more wounds. "Rate your pain. One to ten."
"Six."
"An eight, then."
"No one asked you, Doctor Stark." Mr. Stark glanced up at him from where he was wiping at a bloody slash on his shoulder, his eyes flashing. The teenager didn't notice that it was in humor and not in anger. Peter lowered his eyes, stomach churning and swallowing nervously. He had to force in a breath, remembering that the hand on his shoulder was gentle and friendly. Not Mr. Fowler. "Sorry."
"Don't apologize, Pete. You saved a lot of lives tonight. Saved my ass, too. Make fun of me as much as you want."
"Really?"
"This deal is limited. You have an hour."
"That's unfair!" Peter protested.
"Tough luck."
"But--" He was cut off by a hiss of pain as the car hit a bump in the road, jostling his bruised body. His ribs felt like shit now that the adrenaline was rubbing off. He couldn't remember being in this much pain, and it was all the teenager could do to blink back tears as his entire body burned.
"Drive carefully please, Friday," Mr. Stark called. "Are your ribs okay?"
Peter shrugged. "They'll heal. They always do."
"See, that's not really good enough for me. Friday'll scan you when we get to the compound and make sure all your organs weren't squished. We're not going to deal with internal bleeding."
Peter nodded dumbly, the world feeling like it was coming to a crashing halt around him. He so desperately want to lay down, to sleep and forget about Mr. Fowler or the group home and how badly he didn't want for Mr. Stark to go. But he didn't voice any of it, instead staying ramrod straight as Mr. Stark wrapped bandages around his shoulder and chest, the man mumbling about pain medicine that probably wouldn't work while Peter stared out the window with a tired blink.
After a few minutes, he mumbled, "How are we going to explain this to Mr. Fowler?"
Mr. Stark paused, glancing up at him before turning back to wrapping a thick layer of bandages around his chest. They were already turning a little red, but Peter wasn't worried, sure that they would stop soon. After a moment, the man patted the bandages into place and sat back in his seat with a tired sigh.
"See, I'm not really thinking we should."
Peter's neck cricked with how fast his head turned to look at the man from where he'd been shrugging on the tattered MIT hoodie, his eyes widening. "What? No--Mr. Stark I have to tell him something. I can't just--"
"You can't just go back to him, Peter."
His heart felt like it skipped a beat, his eyes narrowing defensively.
"...What? Mr. Stark, what the hell are you talking about?"
The man's finger thrummed against his thigh, brows furrowing as he clearly thought about what to say next. After nearly a minute, he turned back to Peter. "Kid...Fowler didn't file a missing person's report."
"...And?"
"And?" Mr. Stark repeated incredulously, "Pete, you've been missing for two days. With no reports to the police. No sort of search party or notifications that you're not okay. Nothing to keep you safe. And foster parents especially are expected to be on top of this kind of thing."
Peter stared at the man in confusion, stuffing his hands in the torn hoodie nervously. He shrugged nonchalantly, fumbling desperately for an excuse that didn't sound like shit. "Mr. Fowler's just--he probably didn't want to freak all the other kids out and--"
"Peter."
His jaw clamped shut with an audible click. Mr. Stark sighed, rubbing at his forehead.
"Look... My dad--my dad wasn't the best. He was mean and constantly disapproving, and he hit me when he was mad. I thought it was pretty normal growing up--not that I liked it in the slightest--but I was used to it. It was just what I expected." Mr. Stark paused, holding Peter's teary stare. "But that didn't mean it wasn't wrong. Adults should never hit a kid. Ever."
Peter tore his gaze away from Mr. Stark, staring at the seat back in front of him. He stuttered, "Mr. Fowler--he doesn't--he's never--"
"He took your card," Mr. Stark cut off gently. "He bought alcohol. A lot of it. I'm sure the following nights weren't very pleasant--believe me, I would know. And, I hate to tell you this, but you're thinner than a twig and jumpier than a grasshopper. And don't tell me that it's your superpowers, I know it's more than that. Kid, he's a bad foster parent, and you deserve better."
The teenager was silent for a solid minute, avoiding Mr. Stark's gaze as a feeling of frustrated helplessness bubbled up under his skin, threatening to spill from his eyes. He swallowed, wishing desperately he could curl his knees up to his stomach and hide himself in a ball underneath the red and torn hoodie.
"I don't, really. It's my fault I'm in foster care in the first place, and I was in a nicer home before I got sent to Mr. Fowler. They caught me sneaking out to patrol and I got sent away, so. Really it's just karma or whatever."
"Karma shmarma," Mr. Stark snapped. "You. Deserve. Better."
Those words didn't make sense, not to Peter. Why should he deserve better? Why should he be allowed to go on living comfortably and happily while May and Ben were in a place so dark their shadows no longer existed? It'd been his fault, and no one else's. If he'd just paid better attention. If he hadn't been so selfish. If he hadn't been so mad.
No. He didn't deserve better. Mr. Fowler had become exactly what Peter deserved. This guilt was exactly what Peter deserved. It bubbled underneath his skin, angry and hot and painful. Peter grit his teeth as regret reared its ugly head.
"It doesn't matter!" the teenager shouted. Mr. Stark stared at him in surprise, eyes dark. There was a silence following his outburst, stiflingly uncomfortable. The anger left him immediately, leaving him slumped against the sleep with a stressed sigh. "It doesn't matter... He can put whatever he wants in my file, he already has. He has everything he needs to ship me out of the state the next time I fuck up. Which might be now, to be honest."
The thought appeared the moment he said it. Peter didn't want to go to Jersey. He didn't want to leave New York, full of memories, both good and bad. Memories of dark nights and memories of comforting shadows. It was enough for a single tear to slip through his defense.
There was silence. Tiring and stifling and awkward.
There was a hand through his hair. Soft and gentle and soothing.
Peter leaned in unconsciously, turning the look at Mr. Stark through his flopped curls. The man had shifted to sit closer to him, brown eyes sad and tired and horribly heavy.
"You deserve better, Peter," he repeated, not an ounce of hesitation about him. "Whatever happened that made you think you deserve to live with a man who hurts you, it wasn't bad enough. Nothing ever could be. Because you're a good person, and good people make mistakes. They always do."
Peter shrugged. "Mr. Fowler can still do whatever he wants. He's my guardian."
Mr. Stark pressed his chin into Peter's messy hair. He could practically feel the mechanic thinking, solving a puzzle. A bit of his snappiness returned, the Tony Stark persona flaring up.
"I'll fix it."
"But--"
"I'll fix it. Just let me help, Pete."
"...Okay," he said after a moment, just desperate to let his eyes slip close. Desperate to forget. Mr. Stark tapped his cheek as his eyelashes fluttered close.
"Thank you for trusting me, but no sleeping. Just in case you have a concussion."
Peter groaned in annoyance, but he continued to slump against his soulmate's shoulder, lazily tracing the way their shadows flickered. He liked it better when they were normal, when he had Mr. Stark's shadow, but Mr. Stark's arm against his own was good enough that he could live with it until they got to the compound.
 ---
Tony kept a steadying hand on Peter's shoulder as they stumbled out of the Medbay together. The kid looked dead on his feet, ready to pass out on the nearest soft surface, but Tony needed to set just a few more things in motion.
Friday's scans in the Medbay hadn't revealed anything new or horribly life threatening, just a few cracked ribs and broken bones healing rapidly. The mechanic had splinted what he could and given the kid more wraps before declaring him fit to head over to the Avengers common hall. Tony himself was resisting a heavy limp, grimacing with every painful step, but he hadn't broken any bones and there were about a million things to do before he could get some bedrest.
The door to the Avengers hall slid open for the two as they approached, revealing the shiny and empty living room and kitchen. Always empty. He pushed the thought down with a tired swallow, giving Peter's shoulder a pat and leading him forward with a forced excitement.
"You're going to love it here," he started, rambling. "It's really nice. Watch out for Vision though when you meet him, he has a problem with walls. Here, sit down on the couch right here, I'll be right back."
Peter plopped down on the leather cushions, doe eyes following Tony in complete exhaustion as he walked away. Tony stepped over to the fridge, opening it and roaming over the food inside. He frowned. It was fresh, but most of it was basic ingredients and produce for bigger meals. Spinach, peppers, raw meat, hunks of cheese. Overall, nothing that would help the teen right now, save for a large carton of juice that he grabbed.
He closed the fridge, opening the pantry instead and pulling out bags of cookies, pretzels, and a random bag of obnoxiously healthy vegetable chips. His arms full, he tapped the door closed with his foot and headed back over to Peter on the couch, setting all the snacks next to him. Peter stared at it for a second, eyes heavy.
"Eat up. I know you're falling asleep on your feet, but you need calories to heal. So eat, sleep, hang out, and when I get back everything will be fine. Okay?"
There was that doubt again, lingering in Peter’s dark brown eyes. A tired reluctance that Tony remembered in his own eyes when he’d finally escaped home.
But then Peter’s eyes brightened when they clicked with Tony’s own. A sliver of trust.
There was a ghost of a smile on the kid’s face.
"Okay, Mr. Stark."
Tony smiled, ruffling Peter's hair. "Friday will lead you to a room when you're done eating. I'll see you later, kiddo."
As Tony walked away and towards his unused room in the compound, the corners of his mouth tugged, able to faintly make out the opening music to Star Wars.
  ---
Tony arrived at the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys while it was still dark, his torn and dirty suit replaced with a sharp blazer and a matching pair of slacks thrown over a random graphic tee he'd grabbed. Once he'd popped a few painkillers and made a few calls with Pepper and his lawyers, the man had grabbed a pair of car keys and left, but not before checking on Peter once more to find the kid already fast asleep. He'd draped a blanket over him as softly as possible and walked out the door.
Peter's tired face has stuck in his mind as he'd driven over. The sharpness of the cuts healing on his thin cheeks, the faint smattering of freckles and the curly hair dripping onto his forehead. The thought of anyone being okay with hurting that kid was dangerous in his mind. The Vulture, or, Adrian Toomes, as Happy had sent him, was already being dealt with, but Andrew Fowler had yet to face the consequences of his actions. And Tony didn't want to leave the other kids in his care for one more second.
Not even bothering the lock the door, Tony stepped out of the car and up the steps of the building. He rapped on the door furiously, his anger kneading into the wood. The number on the front trembled.
Tony knocked two more times before there was finally an answer. The door swung open, revealing the stale stench of beer and a grumbled man. His pale eyes widened only slightly at the sight of the billionaire in front of him before resetting to their original uncaring position. The man took a swig of the beer in his hand.
"What are you doing here? The brat hasn't been here in a couple of days."
Tony narrowed his eyes, clenching his jaw and resisting the urge to smack the bottle out of the man's hand. "You know I'm here for Peter?"
"Kid receives a mysterious letter with the initials 'TS' on it and the best excuse he can come up with is a school sponsored pen pal named Tony Smart? I'm not an idiot."
"I would beg to differ on that, but a let's agree to disagree and all that, shall we? I've got bigger fish to fry."
"Look, as long as I get a cut of the kid's pay, you can keep him as long as you want."
Tony paused from where he was pulling a folded up piece of paper out of his blazer, his eyes flashing and his stomaching sinking with an icy hatred. "Pay?"
"That shiny card must be part of his pay, right? Though I thought a sugar baby of yours would get more than three hundred dollars."
This time, Tony couldn't help himself from knocking the beer out of Fowler's hand. It smashed against the doorway into a thousand pieces, like the mechanic wished he could do to the man. Fowler opened his mouth to shout a protest, but Tony beat him to it. With an angry step forward and a dramatic flash of the papers hiding in his jacket, he cornered the man.
"You're disgusting. That is a child, that you were just willing to, what--pimp out?"
"Jeez, fine. Don't get your panties in a twist," Fowler said, but there was a drunken and fearful wobble in his voice. Still, he demanded, "You owe me a new beer."
"No. I owe you these."
Tony shoved the papers into the man's hands. Fowler spluttered in protest, but took them anyway with fumbling hands, squinting down at the paper. There was a hungry interest slowly replaced by confusion and then destroyed by horror.
"What the hell is this?" Fowler demanded. Tony managed a vengeful smile.
"A warrant and a signed court order," Tony said icily. "All of the children here will be placed in new homes and you will be placed in custody."
"You can't do that!"
"I think you'll find that I can. And I did. You did commit credit card theft after all. And being me did help. Just a little."
"I can--I have rights!"
"Oh, yes. I am arresting you. I guess I should read you your Miranda Rights, huh?" He cleared his throat. "You have the right to remain silent--and I would prefer if you did--anything you say may be used against you in a court of--"
"Shut up!" the man panted, clearly panicked. Tony let out a low whistle, not ashamed in the slightest to say that he was enjoying the way this man squirmed and sweat and fumbled.
"Well, now I have to start over. Legally, I do have to tell you this. Then again, I don't have any cuffs on me so I guess an NYPD officer could read them to you if you'd prefer."
"I can--this is fabricated! Whatever that kid told you, he's lying!" When Tony glared, a no nonsense stare of harsh anger lining his face, Fowler stumbled for a different approach. "I'll sue!! I can accuse you of shit too, Stark."
"I'm sure you can try," Tony said softly. "In fact, I invite you to try. Have fun with it. But know this--you messed with my shadow, and I don't take too lightly to people who do that."
"Your--"
Fowler was interrupted by the wailing of sirens. Tony straightened, pulling on his blazer. "Ah, that must be the police. I hope you have a good lawyer, though I'm sure they won't be better than any of mine. And--oh! Rot in hell if you would, please."
Tony patted the man on the shoulder just a little too harshly.
The billionaire left as soon as he could, but not before collected the belongings of Peter's left behind and doing his best to assure the frightened kids at the house that everything was going to be okay for them. That it was going to be better.
Everything was going to get better. Tony was sure of it.
  ---
  When Peter woke up, it was to quiet murmuring and the rifling of papers. He tensed immediately, his brain autopiloting to Mr. Fowler rifling through the morning mail, realizing horribly that he must have fallen asleep downstairs and--
"--all the paperwork's been filed," a low voice said, interrupting the teenager's panicked thoughts. "It's just waiting for the kid's signature."
Kid? Oh. Him. Peter was the kid, and Mr. Stark was the voice, the one mumbling about papers nearby. Peter kept his eyes closed, evening out his breaths as he tried dimly to remember what was happening.
It struck him without much effort that he was at the Avengers Compound, healing after having been kidnapped and then fighting the Vulture. He must have fallen asleep on the couch Mr. Stark had led him to, and judging by the soft warmth wrapped around him, someone had draped a blanket around the wounded boy. There was a dull pain that throbbed throughout his body, but it was easy to tell that most of his injuries were well on their way to being healed. The teenager guessed that all the bandages could be removed by midday. He wondered if he'd be removing them at the compound or if he'd already be back at the group home.
"Tones," came another mumbled voice, clearly doubtful and stressed. "Are you sure you're ready for this? I mean, I know he's your soulmate, but this is more than hanging out with or mentoring a kid. This is raising one."
Peter couldn't help the shock that made him tense and forced his eyes open. Thankfully, the two people talking were away from the couch and in the kitchen, unable to witness his small freak out. Raising? What the fuck???
Mr. Stark sighed, short and hot.
"I know, Rhodey, I know. The thing is, I could let him be placed back into the system, make sure he has a good home and let that be it, but I just... I mean, just looking at him is enough to tell me that that's the wrong move. I don't know what it is, but I see his face and I just--I just want to make sure he's okay. I want to keep him safe. It's--I don't know--it's like..."
"Like you were meant to be there?"
"Like I was made to protect him."
Peter flushed, fingers clenching around the blanket as he stared at his shadow, fixated on the tall shoulders and fluffy hair. He felt like he was choking on his own tongue, trying desperately to not say anything as he chewed on his cheek nervously.
"Maybe I was," Mr. Stark mused. "We still don't know why soulmates are soulmates anyway."
"Maybe," Colonel Rhodes responded. "If you believe in a higher purpose and whatnot."
"I don't. Usually. But for this, I think I do."
"I guess that all that's left is making sure Peter thinks you were made for it too."
"Yeah," Mr. Stark said. "Is it weird to be nervous? Like, this nervous? I've already sweat through my shirt."
Colonel Rhodes laughed. "I'll see you later, Tony. Good luck."
"Where are you going?"
"To put out fires for everything that happened last night. It happened right on Coney Island, Tones, every reporter in the city was there within ten minutes."
"Yikes. Hope you have fun, honey bear."
"You're an asshole."
"Love you too," Mr. Stark cooed. There was the sound of an elevator closing, and then it was just him and Mr. Stark. Peter wasn't sure whether to continue to pretend sleeping or not, not that he was sure he'd be able to properly fake it if Mr. Stark came over and looked up at him. He was practically frozen, stiff as a stick and staring ahead of him at his shadow with a fixed gaze.
Peter bit at his lip as he listened to Mr. Stark as he began to move around the kitchen, willing himself to sink into the cushions, relaxing with the clattering sounds of movement. He tuned into the notes of activity, listening intently as the billionaire softly clanged a pan on the stove, eggs cracked and cheese grated. There was the sizzle of cooking and the perfume of comfort. The teenager's mouth watered unwillingly at the smell of a hot breakfast.
So, of course, it was the grumble of his stomach that gave him away.
Peter winced at the loud noise, only worsened by the stifling of movement in the room for a long moment before it finally returned. He thought that maybe he'd gotten away with being awake when Mr. Stark called, "You up, kiddie?"
Seeing no point in lying, Peter pushed the blanket off of himself and peeked his head up over the back of the couch. Mr. Stark caught his eye immediately, overlooking the room from the stove in the kitchen area. The man smiled at him, and Peter tried for a small one back. It was weak, and he knew it. Mr. Stark probably knew it too.
"How're you feeling, Pete?" Mr. Stark asked.
"Ah, fine, fine," Peter said, getting off of the couch and stumbling over sleepily. After a moment of hesitation, he sat on a stool beside the kitchen counter, peeking over the polished marble to catch a glimpse of what Mr. Stark was cooking, pointedly ignoring the stack of papers on the other countertop. He was pretty sure that he was making an omelet. Just to double check, he asked, "Whatcha making?"
"Breakfast," Mr. Stark answered. So, not that helpful, but Peter didn't push. Instead, the teenager tried to sit back and make his shoulders relax. "We should check your bandages after we eat, okay?"
Peter nodded. "Yeah, sure. That's good. Real good."
"And...I have something I want to talk to you about."
Peter couldn't help the way he froze, tensing so tightly he could probably make diamonds. Terrorizing anxiety coursed through the teenager in a way that he hated with every fiber of his being. He didn't know why he was freaking out so bad, why he felt like his soul was about to leave his body and take every rational thought with it.
"Yeah. Sure, sure. Okay," he managed to say. Mr. Stark gave him a look, but thankfully didn't pry, instead grabbing a spatula and tediously flipping the bright yellow omelet. Once that was finished cooking, Mr. Stark placed it on a plate a little messily and handed it to Peter along with a tall glass of orange juice. He thanked the mechanic quietly, quickly moving to eat the food.
Mr. Stark grabbed a piece of toast with jam on it and sat on a stool next to Peter. The two sat in tired silence while they ate, nothing breaking the lull save for the slight chewing of food and scraping of utensils. Mr. Stark finished his piece of toast before Peter finished his omelet, but only barely as the teenager polished it off ravenously. He could tell that Mr. Stark was anxious to get to that talk, but the man allowed for him to finish his glass of orange juice before beginning to talk again.
"So," Mr. Stark started, tapping on the counter nervously. Peter watched him anxiously as the man stepped off the stool, continuing to talk as he walked into the kitchen. "How much of our conversation do you remember while you were concussed last night?"
"Ah, most of it. I think," Peter said.
"Do you remember when I told you you couldn't go back to Fowler? And that I'd fix it?"
Peter nodded. "Yeah..."
"Well, I've got a solution." Mr. Stark stopped, his back to Peter, in front of where the stack of papers had been sitting. There was a moment of silent hesitation before the man picked it up, turning back around to face the teenager. "It's--if you don't like it, I can figure something else out, it's all up to you. But I'm completely willing to become your legal guardian."
Peter just stared, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. Shock overtook his bruised body, leaving him a restless shell that was reduced to do nothing but stare. Mr. Stark hurried on in a slight panic.
"Of course, nothing's been finalized. My topnotch lawyers and the pulling of a couple of strings got me these" he gestured to the papers, "pretty quickly. They've all been notarized and signed, but nothing's official until you agree. It's your choice, kid."
Swallowing felt like the hardest thing he'd ever done as the teenager tried desperately to reset his glitching brain.
"My... You're going to be my guardian?" was all that he could say. It came out as a squeak, barely audible even to his ears.
Mr. Stark nodded. "Only if you're okay with it."
Peter could only gape at him for a moment before sputtering, "Wha--I don't-I don't---are you okay with it??"
Mr. Stark's face, contorted into confusion and slight apprehension, relaxed as the teenager finally managed to spit out his confusedly stuttered question. The smile that appeared was a little tired, a little exasperated, but no less warm.
"I'm five thousand percent okay with it," the man said. "I've never been more okay with anything in my life."
Peter stared up at him, swallowing forcefully. He wanted to say yes, to agree and finally be safe and okay, but hope was something hard to hold onto. This kind of trusting optimism, it was horribly unfamiliar to the teenager. It had been months since a hand on his shoulder had meant the friendly guidance of a caring parent rather than the controlling demand of Mr. Fowler. Since hugs had been constant and loving and Peter hadn't had to wonder about his place or his next meal. All those months had festered up so easily, and even the thought of trusting that everything would be okay with Mr. Stark was daring.
"Are you sure? Like, really sure? Because, I know-I know I can cause a lot of trouble and I still want to stay at my school in Queens and--"
"Then we'll stay in Queens," Mr. Stark interrupted. "And I'll keep up with you and your 'trouble.' I want to. I want to take care of you." When Peter was silent, Mr. Stark chewed at his cheek and then started, "You know what they say about soulmates? And their purpose?"
"That depends on who you ask, Mr. Stark," Peter managed to mutter. Mr. Stark huffed a laugh.
"Fine. What's the oldest, craziest, old wive-i-est tale about soulmates and destiny you can think of?"
Peter thought for a moment, searching in his mind desperately for what his Aunt and Uncle had used to tell him whenever he'd asked about soulmates. About when he'd meet his shadow and what it would be like.
"That souls were attached to each other for a reason?" he suggested with a shrug. "I don't know. Aunt May used to say that we were part of the same soul, but Uncle Ben wouldn't hear a word against soulmates being different souls that were, like, perfectly matched to support each other. He believed more in the destiny part."
Mr. Stark smiled.
"They sound like they knew what they were talking about."
Peter nodded, rubbing at his nose and sniffing tearfully, "Yeah. Yeah, they were pretty great."
"Well, I've never been one for the whole destiny thing, but I can't deny what it feels like to be around my soulmate. Like a purpose just dropped on my doorstep. Which is how I know that I'm more sure than sure that I want to take care of you."
"You think that that's your purpose?"
It sounded ludicrous to the teenager's ears. This was Tony Stark. Iron Man. He saved lives and the world and he'd fought aliens. He provided affordable and clean energy for the world. He ended wars and funded charities and he was important. And Peter...Peter was just himself.
"I know it is."
Peter let that sit, eyes glancing for a moment. Something finally clicked. After what felt like years and no time at all he choked out a teary, "Yeah. Yeah, I wanna stay."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Suddenly Mr. Stark was by his side, a hand draped over his shoulder and his chin pressed into the boy's hair. Peter couldn't help the tears then, silent and staining his cheeks a flushed red. He sniffled with the relieved tears, his nose beginning to run. Mr. Stark only wrapped him in a tighter hug, soothing circles rubbed into the teen's bony back.
"It's okay, Peter. I've got you."
  ---
  After Peter signed the papers, Tony had broken out two specially ordered cupcakes, his heart practically cracking in two at the way the teenager's eyes had lit up with unbelievable excitement. The mechanic had expected for the kid to gobble up the dessert in less than a second flat, but instead, Peter savored it slowly, as if afraid that it would disappear if he took his eyes off of it.
Peter later admitted the truth about mealtimes at the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys. The same meals every day (cereal for breakfast, PB&J's for lunch and dinner). One snack. No sweets.
No wonder the kid was nothing but skin and bones.
Tony kept Peter in the compound for another few days after the Vulture incident, putting out fires and making sure the kid, and himself, had both fully healed. As well as narrowing down some apartments in Queens. He and Pepper had already been picking between them for days beforehand anyway, so he'd taken the last options to Peter, not that the kid had really voiced an opinion.
Tony ended up going with the most expensive one. They moved in after three days in the compound. A small suitcase filled with Peter's meager belongings that Happy had recovered from the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys was the only thing the kid ended up bringing with him. If Tony had to guess, he would say that the teenager had maybe three pairs of clothes.
The kid kept huddled next to him, painfully close the entire time as Tony swiped the card to the building, as they walked through the lobby and into the elevator, and when they finally walked through the door. Not that he minded in the slightest, enjoying the bewildered look on Peter's face as they stepped into the apartment. There was still plenty of unboxing to do and furniture to move around, with Pepper's supervision of course, but the teenager was clearly losing his mind with the high-rise.
"Whoa..." Peter muttered under his breath. Tony hummed in agreement.
"Pretty nice, right? Of course, Friday hasn't been installed yet, and there's a few changes to be made, but I think this is good."
"Changes?"
"This building didn't come pre-stocked with a state of the art lab, y'know. I was thinking about transforming the floor below."
"This apartment has three floors?" Peter asked, his eyes widening as he turned away from the glass stairs leading up to where Tony was pretty sure a couple of bedrooms were.
"No, just two. I bought the building."
"You... What?"
"I bought the building," Tony repeated offhandedly, moving to explore the new kitchen. "We still have neighbors downstairs, of course, but I wasn't about to have a landlord tell me what to do. Besides, better for insurance."
"I don't like that that's what you're concerned about," entered a new voice. Tony turned and smiled brightly at the sight of his girlfriend stepping into the apartment. She was clearly tired from all the fallout from the plane crashing, but she held a genuine smile on her face nonetheless.
"Pep!" Tony called. "You're just in time to unpack."
Pepper rolled her eyes at him, instead turning to greet Peter, who was staring at the woman like she was God herself. When she held out a hand, it took Peter a few moments to fumble out a response and shake her hand.
"Hi--hello, Ms. Potts," the kid stuttered. "I'm--I'm Peter."
"Hi, Peter. You can call me Pepper."
"Okay. Pepper."
Tony made a buzzer noise. "Excuse me? I'm still Mr. Stark? Who's your soulmate here?"
"That's your name, Mr. Stark," Peter smiled. Tony ruffled his hair as embarrassingly as possible.
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Peter-butter."
If looks could kill, he would say that Peter was trying to kill him. However, the flushed cheeks and baby doe eyes did nothing but make Tony's heart wiggle in amusement and Pepper stifle an coo.
"Stop terrorizing the kid," Pepper reprimanded. "Especially when we've got work to do. Once Peter's stuff gets here we can begin moving that into you room, but for now we'll work on the main area."
"Oh, uh, my stuff is here, Ms. Potts," Peter mumbled. Eyes strayed to the beaten up bag. Tony and Pepper exchanged a glance.
"New plan," Tony announced. "Online shopping. C'mon."
"But--"
"Nope," Pepper cut across. "You're a part of the family now, Peter. We get to splurge on gifts."
Together, the two grabbed Peter's arms, leading him over to the steadiest pile of boxes and sitting down. Tony pulled out his phone and placed it in front of Peter, who didn't even touch the phone now balanced on his leg, just stared at it in confusion.
"I--what?"
Making a face, the mechanic tapped Peter's head. "C'mon, Petey-Pie. You know how to work a phone. Whadda ya want first?"
"I don't--I don't know? I don't really care."
Tony glanced over at Pepper once more, a little bit at a loss. He would be lying if he said he knew exactly how to connect with Peter. He felt like he'd been doing a good job thus far, but not everything made sense to him about their relationship, and a teenager given basically an infinite amount of resources to get whatever he wanted and wanting nothing was confusing him more than anything ever had.
With a look that clearly said, 'Let me take the lead,' Pepper picked up the phone, drawing Peter's attention.
"How about we just start simple? We'll start on your room now, and then go shopping later for clothes, okay?"
"O-okay," Peter mumbled. Tony gave him a comforting pat on the back.
"Great," Pepper said. "What kind of bed do you want? Queen? King? Bunk bed?"
"Bunk bed," Peter said after a moment.
"Great. What sheets?" Tony asked. Peter shrugged, but Tony shook him playfully. "C'mon, my little shadow. I know you're a nerd deep down, and on the surface too. What sheets do your geeky little teenager heart desire?"
"Star Wars?"
"Star Wars it is," Pepper declared.
Peter smiled, his cheeks cherry red. Tony grinned. Now they were getting somewhere.
    Ten Months Later
    "Boss, Mr. Parker is back."
Tony glanced up from where he was working in the lab, looking away from his newest project to smile brightly at the ceiling. He stood up, wiping his oily hands off on his equally oily pants, finally conceding to grab a cloth and rub the slick grease from his fingers. The mechanic gave the new project one last glance before throwing the cloth down on the nearest table and stepping toward the elevator.
"Great. Tell him I'm on my--"
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Tony turned, a confused expression turning into a small smile as he caught sight of the red and blue figure stuck on the window, waving at the mechanic in excitement. He rolled his eyes, walking over and undoing the latch on the window to let the teenager finally at a healthy weight roll into the room.
"I'm gonna start putting bug spray around the apartment until you learn to use a door," Tony warned. Peter pulled his mask off, revealing hair pulled down by sweat and a bright smile. They grew brighter and brighter every day. The teenager rammed a shoulder into Tony's playfully.
"Why can't a window be a door?"
"Because it's a window."
"Old houses in the south used to be able to transform between windows and doors to evade taxes."
Tony considered him. "How do you know this?"
"Decathlon."
Tony rolled his eyes, unsure of how he hadn't guessed that. He was going to the kid's competition next week for heaven's sake!
"Well, this is not the old south. We use doors here."
"That's less fun."
"Yeah, yeah. Go wash up for dinner."
"But it's barely five! I was going to go out again."
"Should've thought about that earlier," Tony teased. "It's family dinner night. And don't you have an essay due?"
Peter mumbled, but listened nonetheless, beginning to pad away towards the elevator to go up to their apartment suite, when there was the ringing of an oncoming call. Both of their heads turned as a screen popped up, displaying an unknown number, untraceable too. Tony and Peter exchanged raised eyebrows as the kid walked back over.
"What is this, Fri?"
"It is an incoming call from the phone Captain Rogers sent you."
Peter glanced between him and the screen warily. "That means there's a problem, doesn't it?"
"Probably," Tony admitted.
He turned to the kid, patting the kid's back and fixing him with a steady stare. Peter's doe eyes attached to his, trusting in a way that had been growing exponentially recently. Tony hadn't known it was possible to look at someone with that much trust. That much love. Especially from a kid whose first interaction with Tony had ended up in him running away, but life had become steadily calm, steadily trusting, as the days had gone by. As the months had. A few bumps in the road and a couple of mishaps, some bigger than others along the way, but good nonetheless. Yeah, life was good.
Tony liked to think he was right most of the time, but even he knew he was pretty hit or miss on how to remain any kind of relationship. But this--Tony knew he'd been right. His purpose was to protect Peter. And he loved every second of it.
"But if it is, I'll keep you safe. We'll fix it together."
Peter's lips tugged in a trusting smile. He held out a fist. "Together. MacaTony--"
Tony returned the fist bump lightly with a roll of his eyes, grinning as he caught sight of their shadows switching, "--And Peter-butter."
Whatever Steve was calling for, neither would be going in alone. They were never alone.
Their shadows made sure of it.
Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7
@annabanannabeth​
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buckybeardreams · a day ago
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Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Captain America (Movies)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Relationships: James “Bucky” Barnes/Steve Rogers, James “Bucky” Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, James “Bucky” Barnes/Tony Stark Additional Tags: Top Bucky Barnes, Bottom Steve Rogers, Switch Tony Stark, Daddy Kink, Dom Bucky Barnes, Sub Steve Rogers, Sub Tony Stark, Masochist Steve Rogers, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, eventual stuckony, Somnophilia, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Dom/sub, Aftercare, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Daddy Bucky, Dubious Consent
Summary:
Bucky loves Steve so much, he can’t help but spoil his boy. He only wishes he could spoil Tony too.
Tony wants to play, but he wants to make the rules. Bucky’s willing to indulge him, and let him play daddy, but daddies can only be so indulgent.
Tony’s so touched starve he’s practically begging to be loved, but he’s terrified to let himself go. He needs a firm, but loving daddy to put him in his place.
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revengewitch · a day ago
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Chapters: 5/? Fandom: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker Characters: Tony Stark, Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man), Ned Leeds, Happy Hogan Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe, Dark Tony Stark, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, dark!Irondad, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Emotional Manipulation, Manipulation, Trust Issues, Peter Parker Whump, Codependency Summary:
Peter falls asleep in a park while waiting for Ned to arrive and meets a man named Tony Stark, who seems harmless enough. Coincidence after coincidence they gradually start to form a friendship.
While Peter has only good things in his mind, Tony Stark only dreams of having one thing.
And he will have it one way or another.
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loonyloopylupxn · 2 days ago
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Flamingo's and Spiders.
part one / part two / part three /
“Do you think I should change my uniform?” Y/N looked up at Natasha and narrowed her eyes, appraisingly. “Clint said it’s basic.”
“Well standing out isn’t going to help the whole stealthy spy thing.” Y/N pointed out. Natasha nodded to herself. “And it has pockets.”
“Yes! My point exactly. Clint didn’t get it.” Natasha sighed.
“Men and their pockets.” Y/N said, patting her own suit and wishing again for the pockets Natasha got.
“Ladies, if you’re done with this week’s Vogue, maybe we could get some help.” Tony spoke through the com’s and the pair shared a look.
“Men.” Natasha sighed, echoing Y/N’s earlier statement.
“Tony, we’re a little busy.” Both women were zipping between computer screens, doing their best to download the villain of the week’s search history. It was pretty grim.
“We’re getting swamped down here. An extra pair of hands wouldn’t hurt.” Steve grunted, clearly taking a hit.
“Geddit, swamped.” Clint huffed a laugh before groaning. “Cause they’re alligators.”
“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.” Natasha and Y/N spoke in sync, Y/N groaning soon after looking at Natasha’s rock and her scissors.
“You ever seen an alligator, Clint?” Y/N asked.
“Nope, I’ve seen a flamingo though and that’s almost the same thing.” Y/N frowned when she reached the ground floor of the compound, bursting into the lobby guns blazing.
“Not even remotely, what the hell do you think a flamingo is?” Tony asked. He was flying around the ceiling height, blasting the suckers from above.
“The little, baby lizards.” Clint sounded unsure suddenly. His aim was more sure, arrow after arrow nothing into the scaled creatures.
“Thats a gecko. Flamingo’s are pink birds with the long legs.” Steve explained patiently, hurtling the shield through the air. Y/N tried her best not to laugh, Clint had been raised in a circus after all, but it was so funny to her that he had no clue about the wider world, despite how well travelled he was. Just yesterday they’d watched a movie set in Ireland and he’d told her it was his favourite made-up place, right after Atlantis.
“Pink birds? You guys are kidding me!” Clint exclaimed in shock.
“You know, I thought you’d be better read up on your fellow species.” Y/N wasn’t impressed when no one laughed at her joke, grumbling to herself as she used her garrotte wire to strangle one of the scaled-lizard-people-that-weren’t-people-but-definitely-were-not-alligator-type things. The thick scales weren’t being cut with the wire so strangulation was her back up plan. Always good to have one of those. It threw itself back, slamming her head off a wall and she grunted, pulling the wire tighter. She had a vague thought that maybe these things didn’t need to breath before it collapsed.
She surveyed the scene, noticing that for every one of these things they killed more seemed to spawn from all entrance and exit points.
“We might have to call a Code Green.” Steve took out two of the scaled beings and caught the shield on its rebound. Y/N made her way through the mess to stand with her back to his, surveying the mess. Tony and Clint had the advantage of height to protect them but Steve and Y/N were on the floor with these things.
“You think he’ll let me off not turning in my chemistry homework if he’s recovering?” Y/N asked and Steve huffed a laugh she could feel from where his back was against hers.
“Not likely kid, either will any of your other teachers. Stop putting off homework or you’ll get grounded by Hill again.” Tony told her, shooting through one scaled thing and hitting another.
“Damn, double homicide.” Y/N muttered, shooting one after the other. No one laughed again and she sighed, wondering why she bothered with all the old folks.
“I’ve got a back up plan.” Tony told them. Y/N nodded when Tony backed up her earlier thought. A back up plan was always good to have. Plan A-Z in her case. She had a lot of bad ideas. “He should be here soon.”
“Is he cute?” Natasha asked, joining the fight. She was shocking the lizardy things which seemed to be working a lot better than anything else.
“The one time Thor is off-planet and lightning would’ve been actually useful.” Tony muttered, blasting each of them as quick as possible.
“Can we get Chinese tonight?” Y/N asked and everyone groaned in-sync making her roll her eyes. “I’m so sick of all you old people.”
“I take offence to that.” Natasha spared time to glare at Y/N before returning to shocking the monsters.
“I have no idea how old you are but I know it’s more than 25 and so you’re ancient- what the fuck was that?” Something or someone was swinging between rafters shooting something white at the monsters like a giant net, in her distraction she got pinned by one of them and then caught under whatever the hell the white stuff was.
“That’s my back up plan.” Tony sounded proud but Y/N was busy glaring into the jaws of death. Quite literally. She shoved her gun in its mouth and emptied all her bullets into it. It stopped wriggling and she groaned at the blue blood that spattered her face in disgust.
“A little help. What is this stuff?” The new person didn’t have a com, at least not one that was directly linked to the rest of the team so Steve answered her request, attempting to pull her out but she was well and truly stuck.
“Uh kid, maybe you could help us over here.” The masked man laughed awkwardly and managed to free both her and Steve who had gotten tangled up in the webs trying to help.
“Sorry about that, I’m-“
“Spiderman!” Y/N answered in excitement when she figured out the suit. “I showed Tony videos of you!”
“Stop taking the credit for what was my discovery and awesome back up plan.” Tony landed next to them and shot one of the things that snapped at his feet from where it was stuck under the web.
“Well I’m-“
“Y/N, I know. I saw your videos.” Y/N flicked her hair back over her shoulder and shrugged.
“I am pretty great.” She joked and Tony rolled his eyes at her before sighing.
“Uh guys, how’s it going in there?” Bruce cut into their comms and everyone smiled at his nervous tone. He hated check in because he hated being called in for a Code Green.
“Bad, I’m going to need an extension on my chemistry-“
“Not a hope. Get back on this quinjet and we’ll be home in time for you to get it finished.” Y/N grumbled when everyone laughed. Oh now they had a sense of humour! She was so annoyed she didn’t even think to say goodbye to Spiderman.
She didn’t get her chemistry done and Hill did in fact ground her again.
this is a maybe part one? if people like it I guess?
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marvelandtea · 2 days ago
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In Control
Summary: After losing control and revealing your powers to your classmates, the world starts to discover who you are.
Note: Reader is young Wanda - has her powers, lives a normal university life with her friends. You might also notice a bit of a Frozen theme in this - read carefully and you’ll see. This is my first fanfiction I’ve written - constructive critics is always appreciated!
—————
You still hadn’t learnt to control your powers. Not fully, anyway. Each day was another chapter of worry and anxiety. You didn’t know how much longer you would be able to keep this charade up. With your new Avenger status, the world was soon coming to know of the Scarlet Witch. Your telepathic and telekinetic abilities only grew from day to day.
You had managed to keep you identity hidden so far. Thanks to the special suit Shuri and Tony had put together for you, no one could find out.
The only thing that was protecting you from your identity being revealed was the intricate bracelets Shuri had made for you. Each one a mesmerising twist of a silver vine intertwining, they contained fragments of the Soul Stone. The very matter that made you who you were. They could absorb the energy from your powers in case you were unable to control them. Until then, it was the least you could do to wear them.
—————
Day after day ensued as normal. You led a relatively normal life as a university student.
You went to your classroom, as normal, laughing and chatting with your friends. The classroom was nothing special, just a plain university classroom with posters and papers up on the walls.The day seemed to fly by because before you knew it you were at lunch again. You and your friends sat on a table near the back; far enough away from the teacher so you could talk without being noticed.
You were deep in conversation, when your friends started arguing. You joined in, and, before you knew, you and your friends were in a heated argument. Soon you were shouting at each other and raising voices. You checked the bracelets on your wrists, knowing that you had nothing to worry about.
You made your way to the front open space of the room, wanting to escape the chaos and loudness. Unsurprisingly though, you were followed by most of your friends. Chloe grabbed your wrist from behind, stopping you in your tracks. You must not have secured one of your bracelets properly because as you yanked your hand away, one of the bracelets came off in her hand.
Oh no.
‘What’s this?’ She asked, bringing it up to her face and examining it.
‘It’s just a bracelet. Give it back.’
‘You always wear these,’ she said ignoring what you just said ‘what’s so special about them?
You stepped towards her and tried to grab it out of her hand. You chest started heaving and you knew you were getting angry. Tucking your unprotected hand under your other arm, you turned and started walking away from her. You had to get out.
‘Why do you always wear these?’
‘Enough, Chloe.’
‘No, Wanda, no! What are you hiding? What are you so afraid of?’
‘I said ENOUGH!’
You couldn’t hold it in any longer. Your eyes glowed scarlet, and, turning around, you sent a red blast of energy out of you, knocking your friends in front of you to the ground.
‘No...no.’ You whispered, aghast at what you’d just done.
You used your powers to take the bracelet out of Chloe’s hand.
She sat up, rubbing her eyes.
‘You....are the Scarlet Witch.’
Wordlessly, you turned and fled.
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queen-ofsunflowers · 2 days ago
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When you have a new fanfic idea in your head, but you already have more than one WIP you’re currently working on.
But the new idea is so tempting.
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huffle-pissed · 2 days ago
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Mother’s Day
Summary: When your Dad, Tony Stark, proposes to the one maternal figure you’ve ever had, you can’t contain your excitement. But when the blip happens, your plans for Mother’s Day are put on hold.
Pairing: Stark!Reader x Pepper Potts, Pepper x Tony, Dad!Tony x Daughter!Reader
Words: 3155
Warnings: fluff, angst, the blip/snap
Part 5 of my 2021 Holiday Series
Series Masterlist here
Feedback fuels me!
Special thanks to @that-one-gay-girl​ for beta-ing this fic! 
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Growing up was supposed to be easy. Kids have a Mom and a Dad who love them, you grow up and learn while supported, and life is great. Sadly, you had never fully experienced that life, for two reasons.
First, your mother left you at birth. You had been an accident after a one-night stand, and as soon as you were born your mother dropped you on your father’s doorstep and left, never to be heard from again. So no Mother made the calculation for a “great life” already difficult.
Second, you weren’t a normal kid in a normal family, you were a Stark. The one and only Tony Stark was your father, and that tended to make life a little difficult. Now, you knew your father loved you with all his heart, he proved it to you daily. He did anything for you and made sure you had the best life possible; a good school, the best toys (half of them ones he made himself), and a comfortable lifestyle. But being rich, and being the only daughter of one of the richest men in the world, made making friends hard.
Life only grew more difficult once your father had announced he was Iron Man. You both got even more attention and were always in some sort of danger. That only grew more true once your father started a relationship with Pepper Potts.
Pepper had always been a large part of your life, just like Happy. They had both been hired when you were young and had stuck around all your life. Pepper was nice, helpful, sweet, and caring. She was the rock of sanity in your life, she always had been. And on top of that, you knew she loved you, as well as your father. She was by your side as fast as your father if something was wrong, she talked to you when you needed “feminine” help. And the closer she grew to your father, the more she meant to you.
---
You set down your pencil as Dad approached you, smiling as he fell into the chair beside you. His arm slid around your shoulders and you leaned into him instantly, cuddling into him as his other arm wrapped around you.
You both sat in silence for a moment, enjoying the comfort of your father. “...you know I love you, right?” he muttered.
“Of course I do, Dad,” you replied, glancing up at him. “Why?”
He took a deep breath before asking, “You like Pepper, right?”
You nodded, smiling. “She’s amazing, she always has been. Why? What’s going on?”
Dad glanced around the room, asking, “Friday, where’s Pepper?”
“She’s down in the kitchen, boss,” FRIDAY responded. “She can’t hear you.”
His smile grew at that, and he dug around in his pocket, pulling out a simple gold ring, one diamond on it. “I’m going to ask Pepper to marry me.”
You gasped, your smile growing. “Dad, that’s amazing!! She’ll love it!”
“You’re...okay with her being your stepmom?” he asked, studying your face.
“She’s practically been my step-mom since she was hired, Dad,” you answered, rolling your eyes. “I think it’s about time she gets the actual title.”
Dad chuckled, kissing your forehead. “True, true. Thank’s kiddo.”
---
You had been so excited at the idea of Pepper becoming a Stark, becoming your step-mom officially. It was about time, and it was going to be great if you had anything to say about it.
Until the blip happened.
Half of the population suddenly disappeared, no one knowing what happened. Everyone at school was panicking, teachers and students alike. And your only thought was Dad and Pepper; they needed to be okay, you needed them, they had to be okay.
Luckily, the adults still present at the school were too panicked to fully stop kids from leaving, and that included you. You jumped into your car (courtesy of your father) and sped off towards home, trying all the lines and numbers you could think of. Just your luck, all the lines were busy or the phone towers down or some bullshit like that.
Giving up on calling Dad, Pepper, Happy, or Uncle Rhodey, you skidded to a halt in front of the house, throwing yourself out of the car and darting up the steps. The door unlocked automatically thanks to FRIDAY, and you screamed, “PEPPER?! DAD?!”
Moving farther into the room, you spun around, trying to listen for anything. Your heartbeat echoed in your ears, and you could only feel your stomach tighten more and your hands shake as the thought of you being truly alone grew more and more in your mind.
Realizing you had an easy way to check on your loved ones, you called out, “FRIDAY?”
It took a moment before the AI responded. “Yes, Y/N?”
“Where’s-”
Before you could finish your question the door swung open and Pepper ran inside. “Y/N!”
“Pepper!” you cried, tears instantly filling your eyes as you darted towards her.
She caught you easily, wrapping her arms around you tightly. “Oh thank god, I was so worried,” she muttered into your hair.
You could feel her hands shaking as they gripped your jacket, and you knew yours were shaking too, the anxiety in you only slowly lowering.
The door swung open again and Happy moved inside, sighing in relief at the sight of you both. “Oh thank god,” he muttered, before looking back outside to the driveway. “FRIDAY, where’s Tony?”
All three of you held your breaths as the AI took a minute to respond; you could feel the shaking through your body continue at the tension, the unknown if he was okay or not. “Unknown. He is off-world, I’ve lost connection.”
You sobbed and buried your face in Pepper’s jacket, the woman running her hands through your hair and muttering, “It’s okay, it’ll be okay, sweetie. We’ll find him, we’ll find him.” She spoke louder then, asking. “FRIDAY, call...anyone!”
“On it,” the voice responded.
Happy nodded and shut the front doors, ushering you both further inside. “Come on, let’s sit down and take a breath.”
You lifted our head, looking to him. “Wait, but-”
“We’ll do all we can, Y/N, but panicking isn’t going to help,” Pepper muttered, keeping her arms around you. “We’ll figure it out.”
You bit your lip but nodded, letting her lead you away from the door.
---
You sat curled up on the sofa at the Avenger’s Compound, Happy instantly driving the three of you there once Bruce had called you back. Pepper was talking animatedly with Steve and Carol across the room, Happy talking with Bruce and Uncle Rhodey a few feet away.
Natasha slowly sat beside you, rubbing your back gently. “...you okay, kid?” she asked.
You broke your gaze from the window, looking to the woman you looked to as an Aunt. “....he needs to be okay,” you whispered, tears filling your eyes. “He-I-”
She quickly wrapped you up in a hug, stroking your back. You tried to hold back the tears, accepting the comfort from her, but you grew confused as her arms disappeared a moment later. You looked up to see Natasha stepped back, Pepper sitting down in her place and hugging you instead.
You quickly hugged her back, crying into her shoulder for the twentieth time in two days. She looked to the others in the room, her gaze hard, “You need to find him, you-” Her voice broke and she took a deep breath, before finishing, “‘Y/N’s needs her father.”
---
You turned in your bed, opening your eyes slowly as you accepted that, once again, you would not be sleeping tonight. You had tried to let sleep claim you for so long like you did every night. But like it had the past two weeks, the thought of your father dying alone or being already dead plagued your mind, and sleep or rest of any kind...didn’t come.
Looking out over the dark horizon and the sparkling stars, you hoped he was okay, you always did. But being without him for so long hurt. It hurt as much as it had when he had been kidnapped and almost killed, before becoming Iron Man. This time though, you didn’t even know if he was on the planet, aliens now a large threat.
You glanced back at your door as it creaked softly, relaxing instantly as Pepper stepped through, her simple pajamas on. “Nightmares again?” she whispered, sitting on the edge of your bed closest to you.
You closed your eyes as her hand ran through your hair slowly. “No,” you muttered back. “...couldn’t fall asleep at all.”
Pepper, Happy, and Uncle Rhodey were all using FRIDAY to their advantage, staying in close contact with each other, and keeping a close eye on you. Pepper most of all; she got an alert every time you woke up at night, started crying during the day, or weren’t eating.
It seemed cruel to say, but your father being away was bringing you even closer to Pepper.
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” she replied, continuing to brush your hair with her fingers. “...do you want me to lay down with you?”
Pepper, over these two weeks, was the only reason you could really sleep at all, and you had a feeling it was the same for her. It was rare for you two to be apart for more than an hour these days, the fear and dread stuck in your hearts.
Nodding, you scooted back and let her slide under the covers, instantly sliding into her arms as she opened them. She seemed to let out a small breath of relief at the closeness of you both, kissing your forehead. “I love you, Y/N,” she whispered, almost as if speaking at a normal volume would ruin the night.
“I love you too, Pep,” you replied, letting sleep finally come as you basked in the comfort and safety that Pepper gave you.
---
Hearing that your father was alive, had been found alive and returned to Earth, had made you cry harder than you thought possible; you thought after the 22 days without him you had no more tears to dry, but you were wrong.
Carol Danvers, a new superhero, had found him and saved him, bringing him back to you and Pepper. You knew you would never be able to thank her enough, no matter what she said.
The relief of seeing him, holding his hand again, hearing his voice again, had let you relax and break more than ever before. And while Uncle Rhodey and Happy both had tried to comfort you, Pepper’s arms were the only ones you were able to find any true comfort in.
It had been a slight struggle to get your father to calm down, rest, and heal, but you and Pepper had been able to do it. And once he was asleep in the bed in the Med Bay, you both promised not to leave him alone at all, deciding to trade off sleeping, getting food, anything. Neither of you left his side or let go of his hand unless it was necessary.
Glancing at the clock in your bathroom as you stepped out of the shower, you sighed in relief as you saw it hadn’t even been ten minutes. Today was your usual shower day, and it needed to be short so you could grab food for yourself and Pepper before making it back to the room, back to Dad.
Seeing the date, a Sunday in May, your eyebrows furrowed. “FRIDAY?” you asked, the screen on your mirror popping up instantly, knowing the AI was listening. “When’s Mother’s Day?”
“That would be today, Y/N,” FRIDAY replied.
At that response, you had two reactions. The first was joy; you had been planning something special for Mother’s day for Pepper ever since Dad had proposed to her, and the day was finally here. The second emotion though was heartbreak; you had something big and special planned, but Dad’s time away and his fragile condition meant the plan needed to be small, and that the focus would probably still be on him. It was needed and understandable, but you felt bad that she wouldn’t be able to have this day fully.
“Thank you,” you stated softly.
Taking a deep breath, you thought over your original idea, how Happy had encouraged you fully, how Uncle Rhodey had taken you out and helped you pick out the gift itself...how happy Dad would be to know what you wanted to do.
Feeling that joy and hope in you, you hung the towel up and moved into your room, opening the bottom dresser drawer and grabbing the small jewelry box. Taking a deep breath, you slid it into your back pocket and moved towards the kitchen. You grabbed the snacks you wanted and Pepper requested, as well as more water bottles before moving back to Med Bay.
The walk was one you knew well now, as much as it pained you to say that. Your feet made little sound on the white tile, and the door slid open automatically as you approached, closing behind you as you set the snacks on the table.
Pepper glanced up from the left side of the bed, smiling softly. “Thank you, Y/N.”
“Of course,” you replied, smiling back at the slight of her holding Dad’s hand. Even though it was thin and clearly fragile, and IV needle sticking out of the back, she felt calmer holding it still, and you didn’t blame her. “Um…” She turned towards you slightly as you spoke, your hands twisting and fidgeting. “...I have something for you, for today.”
You tried not to let the nerves that had started grow further as Pepper furrowed her eyebrows. “For today?” she echoed. “What’s today?”
You bit your lip and reached into your back pocket, holding out the thin jewelry box to her. “...it’s Mother’s Day,” you stated softly.
It took a moment, but she slowly reached out and took the box from you. You moved one of the chairs closer to her, now at the foot of Dad’s bed as she untied the bow and took off the lid.
Pepper gasped as she saw the necklace inside, a simple bar necklace nestled in the tissue paper. Carved into the bar was one word, Mama. She looked up and met your eyes, tears filling her own. “Y/N, I…”
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“You’ve always been a mother to be,” you told her, shrugging slightly. “Since I can remember, no other woman could be as good as you, and no woman will ever be as important as you are to me. I-I know it’s not official yet, but I’ve looked at you as my mom for so long, and I’d like you to be my mom fully...if that’s okay.”
Pepper’s brown eyes flashed between the box and your face for a moment, your stomach twisting tighter and tighter as the silence continued. “Y/N, I…”
“If you don’t want to right now, that’s okay!” you blurted out, your anxiety getting the better of you. “I know there’s a lot going on, and I-”
You froze as Pepper leaned forward and hugged you tightly, almost pulling you out of your chair. You could feel tears dripping onto your shoulder as you slowly hugged her back, relaxing slightly but still anxious.
“Sweetie, I would...love, with all my heart, to be your mother,” she whispered, her voice cracking.
You let out a breath of relief and buried your face in her shoulder. “...thank you.”
You both stayed in that position for a moment, happy to have a hug with Pepper that was happy, instead of the sad and mournful ones weeks ago. The silence was broken though, as a rough male voice said, “There’s my girls.”
You and Pepper split instantly, turning towards the bed to see Dad smiling at you both, her eyes open. “Dad!” you cried, rushing to the right side of the bed as Pepper called his name, holding his left hand.
You took his right hand as Pepper sighed, “You’re awake, how do you feel?”
“Tired, but good,” he replied, squeezing her hand. She squeezed back and kissed the back of his hand, Dad turning to look at you then. “Did you take care of your Mom for me?”
You and Pepper laughed softly, knowing he had clearly been awake for the whole conversation. “We took care of each other, promise.”
“Good,” he muttered, closing his eyes slowly. “You two always have.”
---
- 4 years later -
Dad held up the necklace in front of you and Morgan, your little sister perched on your hip. “So? What do we think?” he asked, glancing at you both.
It was Mother’s Day once again, and you had come up with a brilliant idea for a gift for Mom. Dad had been more than willing to help, Morgan giving input on the color and font of the design.
You exchanged a look with Morgan, nodding together before looking back to Dad. “It’s perfect,” you two said in unison.
He chuckled and set the necklace into the gift box before stepping forward and kissing Morgan’s forehead, then yours. “Just like my two beautiful children.”
You kissed his cheek in response, Morgan giggling at you both when a soft creak sounded from the staircase. “Mama!” Morgan cried, rushing to Mom as soon as you set her down, Dad quickly sliding the lid on the box and handing it to you as the youngest Stark distracted Mom.
Mom moved over to you and Dad after greeting Morgan, the toddler on her hip as Mom kissed your forehead then kissed Dad (you and Morgan exchanging looks of “yuck” at the movement).
“Good morning,” Mom greeted. “What trouble are you three causing this early?”
“We had to finish your gift for Mother’s Day!” Morgan cried, her smile growing.
Mom laughed softly, her smile growing. “I forgot that was today.”
“Well good thing we reminded you,” Dad responded, reaching over and taking Morgan as you held out the jewelry box.
Morgan rested her head on Dad’s chest as Pepper exchanged a secret smile with you. “We’ve been here before,” she muttered.
“Why mess with a good thing?” you replied as she slid off the lid. Sitting on the tissue paper was a pillar necklace this time, and on each side, there was a name carved, including her own.
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She held up the necklace and let it twirl to see the names as Dad commented, “So your whole family is close to your heart.”
Mom’s smile grew, and she slid it on before hugging you all. “I love you so much,” she muttered.
“I love you too, Mom,” you replied.
“Me three!” Morgan added, giggling.
Dad laughed and commented, “Me four.”
You all laughed before moving to the kitchen, ready to relax and celebrate your wonderful mother.
-----
Forever tags: @downanddirtydean @katelynw93 @that-one-gay-girl @wonder-cole
Marvel tags: @superfanficnatural @mrspeacem1nusone @bubbles2300
2021 Holiday Series: no one yet...
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iwritedumbshit · 2 days ago
Text
Comfort in My Shadow
Chapter 7: Perfect
By @iwritedumbshit for @iron-mum
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Ned Leeds, James “Rhodey” Rhodes
Summary: Soulmates are definite in the universe. Nobody knows exactly why they exist, or what dictates who is bonded to who, the only thing known is that they are never wrong. But Peter’s not so sure about that.
Living at the group home had taught Peter a lot about laying low and how to stay alive when nobody cares. But he’d always clung to the hope of the shadow at his feet reflecting his soulmate that had watched over him for years.
Typical that his soulmate is actually a superhero that Peter is convinced shouldn’t want anything to do with him. Maybe, just this once, the Universe was wrong.
But Tony Stark is desperate to prove that it is right.
Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 8
---
Everything went black. Not because Tony had passed out, but because the world had been consumed by thick piles of dust and a dozen layers of crumpled concrete. A ringing silence pursued after the ceiling had collapsed, leaving him unable to hear anything but the aftereffects of the explosions that he'd attempted desperately to shield Peter from. Not that it had gone very well.
Tony tried to move, gritting his teeth at the pain in the lower half of his body, pinned against the floor by what was probably hundreds, if not thousands, of pounds of concrete and metal. He was unsuccessful in even moving an inch, reduced to only wiggling under the smothering weight. At least his head and upper body had managed to avoid being hit. But he didn't know the same for Peter.
"Kid?" he called, his voice raspy. He coughed a few times, sucking in gritty air and blinking rapidly, trying to find the teenager in the low light. "Peter? Where are you, bud?"
There was a grunt, and then the grating of concrete shifting. Tony turned his head in the direction of the noise, squinting. He swallowed down a gasp as he finally caught sight of the kid.
He was not too far from Tony, his entire body crushed between two slabs of rough concrete. Only his head and a shoulder poked out, the material crumbling as the boy shifted. The two were separated by a wall of rebars, snapped and sharpened from the collapse of the ceiling. Whatever Peter had done in the chaos as the roof had fallen, it had saved Tony from the worst of it and left the kid there instead.
"Peter?" he tried again.
There was a whined groan in response, followed by the rumbled grinding of concrete and the clatter of stone falling. It was hard to make out through the darkness, but the kid's head picked up at his call. He could barely distinguish his bloodied and dirtied face, only his swimming eyes broke out from the oppressive darkness.
"Mr...Mr. Stark?" Peter rasped, his voice croaky and strained. His eyes picked the mechanic out in the darkness, settling on him easily.
"Right here, kid," he responded. "Can you move?"
There was a scrabble and the sound of primitive rustling. Tony squinted harder, trying desperately to make out the kid. He could see the movement of limbs scraping against the floor and the flurried panic of a tired struggle. He expected it to die down after a few moments once the teenager realized he was trapped, but, if anything, the scraped movement only picked up in its furor.
And then there was the gasping of wheezed breaths.
"Kid, you gotta calm down." There was no response. "Peter--"
"Mr. Stark!! Please, please, please. I’m stuck, I’m stuck. I can’t move. I can’t..."
"I'm right here, kid. Right here," he tried to assure. "It's okay, kid. It's gonna be okay, you can relax."
Peter shook his head. "No. No, no, I should've--I've got these powers and I couldn't even...I can't even get us out... You were right about the suit, Mr. Stark."
Tony stared at the kid who was keeping his head down, shoulders slumped. He swallowed.
"Maybe I was." Peter flinched, head picking up to stare at him through the maze of rebars, eyes wet. "But you're more than a suit, Peter."
"No I'm not," Peter muttered. "I couldn't even take down the vulture guy with the suit, and I've been here for two days. I should've been able to escape."
"I was in Afghanistan for three months, in an admittedly pretty shitty situation, but with access to materials. Nobody would've expected you to get out from here, kid. I didn't." Peter glanced away from him. Tony dragged in a rugged breath, thinking back to everything horrible that Peter had told him before the ceiling had collapsed. "I said later, but now's as good a time as ever I guess. You're my soulmate. And I'm proud of that."
"But--"
"I don't want to hear any 'buts' on that. Not one. I have waited my entire life just to meet you, and I am not disappointed in the slightest. I never even thought of that as a possibility." A pause as he let that sink in. "You asked after the ferry why I cared. I think that's a ridiculous question, but I'll answer it now anyway: You're my soulmate. The little shadow I've been dreaming of meeting for fifteen years. And let me tell you, kid, dreams don't measure up to you.”
He could see glistening tears running down Peter's face, a confused expression scrunching up the boy's features. Piecing together a puzzle impossible to do alone.
"What's eating at you? Let me fix it." A moment of pure desperation. "Please."
There was a moment, a teary sniff, and then, "You said, "forever," and--I thought you didn't want to see me again."
Tony flinched, jostling the pain spiking his trapped legs. But whatever level the pain was, he deserved it for causing this good and kind kid. He forced out a harsh sigh.
"I...I didn't mean it. Not like that. Never like that, Peter. There is nothing you could've done that would have made me never want to see you again... What I said that day--I was scared. I was scared for all those people and I was scared for you." He took in a deep breath, unused to being this vulnerable. For just tearing down his walls like this. But Peter needed him. Peter needed Tony to be honest and open. "I was scared of losing you, and I freaked out and I didn't handle it great and...and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Peter."
"Not forever then?"
"No. Not forever." He tried for a smile. "I was going to call you tonight actually, to make sure we were still on for Friday. I didn't realize you'd put your phone in your mask. Or your other stuff. You're getting all of it back when we get out of here, by the way."
"How are we getting out of here?" Peter asked. "I can barely move."
Tony twisted as far as he could, squinting into the darkness. "We need some leverage. If I can get this off of me, I might be able to call for help. Oh, and stop Mr. Vulture from stealing my whole plane."
"What?"
"Later. Anything near you that could give us a good purchase on this shit?"
  ---
Peter searched around at Mr. Stark's request, looking desperately for something that might free the man. His lower half was trapped underneath a concrete slab, so he just needed something that could let him reach it. Maybe dislodge it a little so that they could hope his phone wasn't broken.
After a few seconds, Peter's eyes landed on the wall of broken rebars between him and Mr. Stark. There were a few long ones, easy enough for him to reach and long enough for Mr. Stark to use. He grunted, reaching out and gritting his teeth in pain as the concrete and metal clamped down around his ribs.
Mr. Stark turned to look at him from where he'd been searching in his area, eyes narrowing as he caught sight of Peter finally wrapping a hand around a rusted rebar. With a grunt, a snap, and a tear, the skewered metal was free, the end he was holding slowly being covered in blood from where it had cut at his hand. But it was free.
"Here," he said, pushing it through the wall of rebar. Mr. Stark grabbed it immediately, pulling it over to his side.
"Good work, kid," the man complimented. Peter watched with sharp eyes through the dark as he twisted, jabbing the metal underneath the slab and heaving. Pushing the rebar back and forth, the concrete began to shift, wiggling backwards. After a few minutes, Mr. Stark was, well, he was still trapped, but he was allowed much better movement now.
The man dug into his now free pockets, pulling out a phone, grimacing, and then grabbing another phone. Another grimace. "Phones don't work. All broken."
"Nothing else in your bag of tricks?" Peter asked. Mr. Stark shook his head.
"I've got plenty of trackers on me, but there's nothing to do until someone realizes we're missing."
That you're missing, not me, Peter thought, but he didn't voice aloud. Instead, he stared down at the ground, wheezing in rattled and wet breaths. Vulture guy was going after the plane, filled to the brim with Avengers stuff and Mr. Stark's inventions and all sorts of dangerous weapons. The guy had built a business on scraps, the thought of what he could do with all of that other stuff was terrifying. And he couldn't let it happen.
Peter grit his teeth, sucking in a deep breath as he braced his shoulders, tensing them up against the concrete. It began to shift above him, grating and scraping and tearing at his still ringing ears. He couldn't help the pained grunt, but it was working. There was enough free space that he could twist his arms, shifting the weight.
He was aware of Mr. Stark staring at him, but only dimly, as he raised onto his knees and then his feet, flinching at every piece of concrete that crashed down around him. He bit down on every scream that tried to tear its way through his throat, but he couldn't completely keep them in. Short outbursts of pain escaped, but then the weight and the pain was gone. There was a deafening crash as it tumbled behind him, stirring up a cloud of dust and dirt so thick he couldn't see a thing as he dropped onto his knees, coughing violently.
"Kid?" Mr. Stark called.
Peter wheezed in a shaky breath, forcing himself back to his feet. "Here! I'm okay, Mr. Stark."
There was a relieved sigh as Peter jumped shakily over the pile of rubble, gripping onto the top and then dropping onto the ground right next to where Mr. Stark was still trapped. The man stared up at him, a proud smile on his face.
"That was impressive, kid. You did good."
Peter grabbed the concrete slab, lifting it easily. His ears burned at the praise.
"Thanks." He held out a hand, which Mr. Stark accepted, pulling the man up. He stumbled for a moment, a hand resting on Peter's shoulder for support. The teenager thought back to the fingers that had curled into his skin and left dark bruises and darker nightmares. But this hand was soft, strong and everything Mr. Fowler wasn't. Peter was okay. "Okay, let's go find the vulture guy. He can't have gotten too--"
Peter was cut off as Mr. Stark wrapped him in a hug. The teenager stood stiffly, confused as gentle arms bundled around him and Mr. Stark's head pressed against his own. After a hesitant moment, he raised his own arms and, after not knowing how long it had been since he'd had a hug, his arms grasped around Mr. Stark. Tight and tired and desperate. He closed his eyes.
Safe.
With a pat on his back, Mr. Stark let go.
"C'mon, let's get moving. We've got a plane to catch."
Peter followed his soulmate quickly, stumbling after the man and out of the broken rubble, his legs more than a little sore. "How? Aren't your armors on the plane?"
"They are, but they'll be good for something else other than fighting tonight."
Peter blinked, more than a little confused, but he followed Mr. Stark out of the building nevertheless. There was a sleek car waiting, still rumbling with the keys in and the door flung wide open. Mr. Stark slipped into the driver's seat and, after a moment of hesitation, Peter got in the shotgun.
"Hello, sir, glad to see you're still alive," greeted a cool voice. Peter flinched in surprise.
"Yeah, yeah. Can it, Fri, I need the plane's location right now."
"It is currently twenty minutes out from the compound on its projected course."
A screen popped up in the car, showing the path of the plane. Both the man and the teenager's brows furrowed, glancing at each other. That wasn't right.
"Okay, I want you to keep an eye on it and see if anything's tampered with it," Mr. Stark started, grabbing a pair of glasses from the glovebox and slipping them on. "And track Mark Forty-Nine while you're at it. Let's see where these bastards really are." A second dot appeared on the screen, veering off from the projected course of the plane. "Gotcha."
"But how are we going to get there?" Peter asked. Mr. Stark thought for a moment.
"Rhodey's got the only other suit right now, but he's in DC. And Vision's in Europe for a little honeymoon or whatever, so that just leaves us."
"A man with a heart condition and a teenager."
"A teenager who just lifted several thousand pounds while trapped. And my heart's fine, thank you," Mr. Stark countered. Peter gave him a look but it fell as he took in the man's expression, clearly warring with himself. Fear and apprehension and scary determination. After a moment, Mr. Stark sighed, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a familiar red fabric. It was placed on the console in between them. "You're our best bet right now, kid. Lives are going to be lost if we don't get that stuff back before they can start selling it."
Peter grabbed the scarlet mask hesitantly, glancing between the narrowed eyes and Mr. Stark. There was a shake in his hand, accompanied by murky brown eyes and the stench of overpowering beer. Of a hand on his shoulder and the horrible inability to fight back. The teenager shook away the memories flooding him as subtly as he could. He voice shook as he said, "I don't think I'm ready."
Mr. Stark fixed him with a steady stare. These brown eyes weren't murky, they were bright and strong. He didn't smell of rank beer, instead roasted coffee and faint motor oil. The lines on his face weren't fixed in anger and worn away by the harm he'd caused, but rather a comforting mix of laugh lines and memories of regret.
As if against his will, Peter was instantly soothed, his racing heart calming and his nerves quieting. Mr. Stark's words only amplified the safety that had cocooned the teenager ever since gentle arms had wrapped around him.
"We never are, kid. But the world doesn't wait." Peter ducked his head, brow furrowing and mouth frowning. Confusion and fear and doubt all warring and showing clearly on his face. At his silence, Mr. Stark added, "You can do it, Peter, I know you can. You're going to be the best of all of us one day."
Peter's face burned. His heart swelled. His resolve hardened. With a sharp nod, Peter gathered up the suit and hopped into the back of the car. It began to speed off immediately, but Peter stuck himself to the car floor easily, beginning to pull on the suit.
"How are we going to catch up?" he asked. A horn blared and Peter looked back to see someone honking at them as they cut them off.
"If they stay on their course, they'll be going over Jersey in ten."
"We can't make it to Jersey in ten."
"How fast can you swing to Jersey?"
"From here? Not fast enough."
Mr. Stark thought for a moment, eyes focused on the road. "Friday, are the drones still ready to be deployed from the compound?"
"Yes, sir."
"Get one over here, and then attach it to the plane's coordinates."
"Done."
Peter leaned up front, his mask pulled up over his hair. Mr. Stark glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "What's the drone for?"
"Much faster than a car," he answered. "Get on the hood, it'll take you to the plane in time. I'll try to catch up and keep under you, but right now, it's up to you."
The window rolled down for him. Peter glanced between Mr. Stark and the opening. He gave the man a smile, pulling the mask down. "I won't disappoint you, Mr. Stark."
"You never could, Peter-butter."
Peter, already out the window, peaked his head back in. "I'll be back with an embarrassing nickname for you. Just you wait."
"I don't doubt it."
  ---
The drone arrived quickly. Peter's spider sense picked up on it quickly, barreling in from behind him. He narrowed his eyes at it, unfurling from his crouch on the car. With a perfectly timed leap, he jumped off of the car's hood, attaching himself to the drone and holding on as it climbed higher. He swallowed nervously. Heights were kind of his thing, but flying and swinging were very different.
"Incoming call from Tony Stark," Karen said in his ear.
"Connect him," Peter said, nervously readjusting his grip on the drone. A closer look revealed it was the same model as the one that had helped piece the ferry back together. It was pretty cool, actually, able to contort itself to be just a little bigger for Peter to hold onto.
"Hey, kiddo. How's it hanging?"
"Do not joke about this, Mr. Stark."
"Don't tell me you're afraid of heights."
"I swing, I don't fly, Mr. Stark."
"Same difference," Mr. Stark said. Peter grumbled, immediately planning a time to swing the man around. He'd get his revenge one day. "Okay, the cameras on the plane are playing on a loop, so I can't see what's going on over there. You're going to go in blind."
"Okay, okay. Plan. We need a plan. Right?"
"I've got one. I'm gonna stay on the phone with you. When you get in, I'll walk you through resetting the plane's route and activating the Iron Man armors. They'll take it from there."
"Okay, okay, okay. Solid--solid plan."
"Eyes on the prize, kid. ETA in five minutes."
Peter nodded.
Five minutes came and went too quickly and too slowly. Either way, the teenager wasn't quite prepared when he broke through the clouds, the screen in his mask picking the reflective plane out of the air. He squinted at the strange lump poking out of it, realizing after a moment that it was the vulture's wings.
"I see the plane, Mr. Stark," Peter reported as the drone flew him closer. Once he was underneath, he let go, sticking himself to the plane and attaching a securing web just in front of him. The drone flew off, but he could still hear it buzzing around. "I don't see anyone, but the guy's wings are here. I think it's covering his entrance."
"Do you think you can move it?"
Peter crawled over the metal, getting on the other side and securing himself once more. He gave it a heavy kick. It moved, but not much. "I think so, yeah."
"Okay, get to working on that."
Spider-Man kicked again, pushing with all of his available strength at the metal encasing in front of him. A jolt of pain shot up his leg with every movement, but he didn't stop. He kicked and kicked and kicked until--
It moved.
Alarms rang inside the plane, and Peter couldn't help the way he flinched.
"Okay, so uh, it moved, but not enough and I think he knows," Peter reported.
"Are you sure?"
The wings opened, revealing a flash of bright green eyes that he only saw for a second before they were lost in the clouds.
"Uh, yeah. Yep. Pretty sure, Mr. Stark. Pretty sure." Peter glanced up at where the wings had been, disappointed to see no opening for him. He began to climb up the side to where the door should be. "Uh, his opening is gone."
"Can you still get in?"
The wind swept Peter back when he reached for the door, making him grunt in pain as his bruised back was slapped against the metal. He opened his mouth to answer when his senses spiked. He whipped his head around, letting out a yell of surprise as wings broke through the clouds. He shot out two webs on instinct, hitting the metal wings that he barely had time to dodge before they slashed through the metal just inches above his head. The vulture continued flying, pulling him and his web along. He shot another one at the plane, suspending him in air.
"What the hell was that?" Mr. Stark. Peter grunted.
The web snapped.
Peter was trapped in air for a fleeting second before he was shot through the air, the plane still moving ever forward. The jet whirred, angry metal teeth whirring to swallow him. He let out a raspy yell, his throat scratchy. He shot out his arms and shot what looked like half of his web fluid. He squeezed his eyes shut, expecting pain. When there was nothing, he blinked his eyes open to see himself snugly caught in the stuffed propeller.
The propeller fell, and he barely managed to cling on. He reached out an arm, grabbing on and kicking the broken motor. It creaked out before falling through the clouds with a deafening whoosh. He slipped back into the circle where the motor had been.
"I can't believe that worked," he said with a relieved gasp. He began making his way onto the top of the plane so that he could try and reach the door again.
"What worked? What's happening?"
"I thought you had the Baby Monitor protocol," Peter snipped.
"You disabled it," Mr. Stark responded. "I put the suit in the box and didn't look at it. I'll fix it tomorrow."
"Great. Maybe change the name, though."
"No can do, Peter-butter."
Peter opened his mouth--to quip or groan he didn't really know--but any thought of snide remarks was washed away by the raising of his hairs and the pounding of his skull. The Vulture returned, shooting out of the clouds. Peter rolled out of the way, narrowly avoiding the sparked slashes left behind by the metal wings where he had been only a second before.
The wind swept him back as he struggled to get a grip, the whirring of another engine screaming danger behind him. He forced out his back leg and splayed out his hands, trying desperately to stick to the sparking plane. He looked underneath himself to glance at the jet, his head snapping back up at the scraping of metal as the Vulture returned once more.
A wing struck out, and, seeing no other escape, Peter let go. He managed to get a grip again by attaching a web, but the wing came for another slash, digging into the plane where he had been barely a moment before. It snapped the web, and the teenager was dragged back.
Peter flew up as the Vulture came for him once more, the wind carrying him. His senses spiked, but he managed to narrowly miss the jet, instead knocking against the side and flying back. He shot out another web, flailing out behind the dashing plane, the jet catching on fire and blowing a trail of harsh smoke into his face.
"Peter, you're dropping real fast. What's going on, bud?"
The teenager couldn't find it in himself to answer, his breath shot as the plane began to careen downwards. Peter pulled himself forward by his web, squinting his eyes and glaring over the rapidly disappearing clouds. A city was in view.
"Oh, my God."
Ignoring the Vulture digging into the plane and Mr. Stark's demanded question, Peter turned, shooting out a web and forcing himself to his feet. He pulled, letting out a harsh yell at the pulling on his arms, though it was washed out by the groaning of the wings as it turned.
"Please turn! Please turn!" he yelled.
The sparking plane began to tilt, carrying them over the city where it disappeared to be replaced by the twisting rides of Coney Island and the sand that stretched beside it.
The web snapped, whipping him into a tumble onto the plane's wing where he barely held on, curling himself into a tense ball on the flashing metal. There was no time for goodbyes or terrified thoughts or anything of regret. There was only approaching land and a tired fear in his choked throat.
"I'm really sorry, Mr. Stark."
The plane crashed.
Sound left Peter. Reason and understanding left him too. All he was aware of was the pain as he was launched from the plane's snapped wing, rolling a million times over. The sand was hot against him, even through the suit, the high friction tearing and scratching at him through the suit. The heat tore at him, clawing at him worse than anything else.
Peter finally came to a rolled stop in the sand in the middle of dark plumes of smoke and the harsh brightness of red and orange flames. He was sure that the plane was sparking, the wind roaring, and the fire crackling, but there was nothing for him to hear except for the ringing. He was aware dully that Mr. Stark was speaking for him, but nothing made sense as he struggled for a coherent breath.
The teenager took in a gasping breath, forcing himself onto one of his elbows and tugging at his mask with shaky hands. He tore off the fabric covering his face, peeling it off of his sweat and and blood covered face, throwing it into the sand in pain. He stumbled back onto his elbows with the force of his rattling coughs. After a moment, he picked himself up by his arms and knees, finally forcing his stumbling and shaking feet into use, allowing him to stare around the turned up beach.
A tingle ran up his spine. He turned, squinting into the surrounding fire. Green eyes and sharp claws burst out of the sparks and plumes.
He gasped in rattled fear, the reality of the world returning in a loud rush of overwhelming sound and heat as the sharp metal claws clamped around him, pushing him back down into the sand. He let out an unwilling scream as the metal tips tore through his skin.
There was a whine and a whir as Peter was lifted into the air by his wounds. He struck out his hands, tugging at the metal claws until they let go. Peter dropped, grimacing as he turned in air to shoot a web, flinging himself back up and into the man's metal suit. The Vulture was forced to dip low as the teenager unbalanced him, but it left Peter unbalanced too.
The boy snapped against the loose sand, a pained mumble escaping his tired lips, blood tricking from them. The Vulture approached slowly, threateningly. A hooked feather extended, reaching forward and aiming towards his chest. Peter swallowed painfully, staring up at the man through the grit in his eyes and a fiery red lens, sure that this was it.
He could barely move, he could barely even talk. He wished he was at least wearing his mask, just so that he could say goodbye.
The feather jabbed forward. Peter flinched and closed his eyes.
There was a sharp, reverberating clang.
The pain never came.
  ---
Tony stood over Peter, a metal encased arm raised in front of him, a metal feather knocked against the Iron Man gauntlet reaching up to his elbow that he had barely managed to grab from the plane's rubble before rushing over. He glared at the Vulture hovering in front of him, the green eyes piercing. Behind him, he heard Peter mutter lowly, "Mr. Star'?"
"Mr. Stark," the Vulture echoed him mockingly, the metal feather still slashed against Tony's upheld arm. "I didn't know you care so much to put yourself in harm's way. Perhaps you're right. I don't know everything."
"No. You don't," Tony answered shortly, narrowing his eyes up at the man through his glasses. He glanced beyond the man at where boxes of his stuff sat idly in the fire, resisting the desperate urge to turn his head and look at the kid. "Now's your chance to run before anyone else shows up."
"How generous, Stark," the man said. "But I'm not leaving empty-handed."
"Then you're not leaving at all."
"Contrary to your usual position, I'm the one with the power now."
"Oh, yeah?" Tony challenged, taking a step forward. The man hovered back, just a little. But it was enough for Tony to confidently lie out of his ass. "Big talk for a man in a bird-suit. You think I didn't have a contingency for this? I have contingencies for my contingencies. A functional War Machine armor and a vibranium android are on their way right now. Three minutes. Your choice."
The feather withdrew from against his gauntlet, the Vulture hovering backwards. Tony held his bright green stare, a furious glare written harshly across all of his features. The man didn't turn away, instead glancing over Tony's head and raising his wings. He flew at Tony, forcing the mechanic to duck down to avoid the wings that sliced the air overhead.
He expected an attack, but nothing ever came. He turned to glare at the man, his eyes narrowing as he watched metal clamp down onto a leaking metal box, glowing arc reactors slipping out. He wanted to yell; to shout and run and defend the power sources only moments away from being stolen, but his shadow flashed underneath him, dragging the mechanic's eyes down to the kid trying to stumble back onto his knees, one arm clutched around his chest.
Tony let him go, dipping down low to kneel beside the kid. It was selfish, and he knew it. Those arc reactors could cause a lot of damage in the wrong hands, but Peter was infinitely more important to him.
Tony pat the kid's back even as he tried to stumble to his feet, murmuring reassuringly, "It's okay. Take a seat, kiddo, you did good."
Peter glanced at him from where he was staring at the Vulture, beginning to lift off into the air, flames trailing after him. There was a terrified stiffness to the kid. His voice was shaky as he said, "Mr. Stark--Mr. Stark, his wing suit. His wing suit's going to explode!"
Tony followed Peter's gaze to stare at the Vulture's wings. They were fizzing and sparking. His immediate thought was, good. He won't get away, but Peter was different. Peter was better. The kid flicked out a shaking hand, a white line streaking out from the metal on his wrist and attaching to the Vulture's suit.
Peter stood, Tony followed suit, unsure of what to do. He didn't have super strength, he couldn't exactly help, so he stood by the kid, a metal arm raised up in warning as the Vulture turned around, clearly confused by the resistance on his suit. Peter only pulled back tighter.
"Time to go home, Pete," the Vulture said.
"I’m trying to save you!" Peter yelled. Tony just glared, refusing to move a muscle as the Vulture raised a wing. He snapped through the web. Peter was flung backwards with the force, landing harshly in the sand. Tony startled, cursing and kneeling beside him as the kid tried desperately to shoot another web. He sent a terrified glance Tony's way as he realized that he was out of fluid.
Heads twisted to glance at the Vulture, the fizzing and sparking crescendoing. With a split second realization about what was going to happen, he forced Peter to the ground, guarding the kid from the heat that exploded behind them and grabbing his head protectively. Peter curled up underneath him, one hand clutching into his jacket desperately.
When the initial force was over, the two unfurled from one another, turning to stare at the crackling fire.
"No," Peter murmured. The teenager flinched and squirmed, rushing to his feet. Tony grabbed his arm.
"Kid," he breathed.
"Mr. Stark, I gotta--I gotta go get him."
"Peter--"
Their shadows stretched out from them, switched. A spindly thin teen reflecting a spindly thin teen and a ruffled and sharp man reflecting a ruffled and sharp man. The teenager tore his arm away, the shadows returned, and one terrified and regretful look was sent to Tony.
He ran.
"Peter!!" Tony yelled. The kid was already gone into the burning flames, and, without a moment of hesitation, Tony followed.
The fire scorched at him through his dark suit, licking and crackling at his skin. He hissed, forcing down pain and squinting through the smoke to make out Peter's red and blue suit. The kid was crouched down beside a heap of metal, a yell of pain escaping him as he touched it. Tony ran over, catching Peter by surprise as he turned up to look at him.
There was apprehension, and then there was understanding. A sliver of trust thrown his way.
Tony gave Peter a nod, digging his metal encased hand underneath the burning heap. Peter followed suit, forcing his own fingers underneath the sand. With equally heavy grunts, the metal lifted, revealing the soot covered body of the Vulture. No mask, no wings. Just a man.
Peter grabbed him, throwing the man over his shoulder fireman style. Together the two stumbled out of the fire. Peter dropped the coughing Vulture onto the sand, stepping a few feet forward before collapsing to the ground himself. Tony laid down beside the gasping kid, wheezing in rasped breaths himself.
Two heroes and a vulture, all collapsed on the sand, coughing smoke out of their lungs like lunatics. Tony didn't know whether to laugh or not. As if it would provide an answer, he turned to stare at the kid, catching Peter's eye, who turned to stare at him as well. Tony smiled. Peter followed suit tentatively, doe eyes swimming.
"I've got your nickname, Mr. Stark," Peter rasped. Tony huffed a laugh.
"Yeah? Lay it on me."
"MacaTony. Like--like macaroni?"
Tony laughed. Full on and hearty and completely disregarding the smoke choking his lungs. He didn't care as the coughs were mixed with his crazed giggles, resting his head back against the sand and staring up at the sky. After a moment, Peter's own laughs joined his, mixing with the crackles of pluming fire.
Their shadows stretched in the orange light, their own kind of happiness flickering in the dark silhouettes, like they knew that their souls had finally met. Finally understood.
Or maybe the goofy grin stretched across Tony's face was making him delirious with joy, but Peter's own bright and sooty grin was enough to make the world feel right even in the rubble of an invisible plane on a burning beach.
Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 8
@annabanannabeth here ya go!
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honeyybunnies · 2 days ago
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Chapters: 6/? Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Steve Rogers, Peter Parker & Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Avengers Team Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel) Additional Tags: Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, De-Aged Peter Parker, Peter Parker Has a Family, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Avengers Family, Protective Tony Stark, Protective Steve Rogers, Fluff, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Cuddling & Snuggling, Light Angst, Peter is a Little Shit, Hurt/Comfort, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, Crying, Nightmares, Kid Peter Parker Summary:
Peter really needs to stop being so clumsy. It doesn't always end up being cute.
Well, this was an exception.
Peter Parker finds himself at seven years old after he accidentally spills a potion all over himself and now the Avengers have to take care of a child.
At least he's kind of adorable.
NOW UPDATED TO CHAPTER SIX!
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calligeniascorner · 2 days ago
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GUESS WHO??????
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It’s me ya girl !!
I’m sorry, I know it’s been ages. I have literally no excuse except: 
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Please be mindful of the TWs in this story. 
Love you all to bits 
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Here it is on ff.net as well: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11411735/20/Salt-in-their-scars
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raggedy-dxctor · 2 days ago
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Come Back | Tony Stark
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pairing: tony stark x gn!reader
summary: after tony's death, the reader finds a letter adressed to them, from their late husband
inspired by: this tiktok
warning(s): heavy angst & main character death
"come back tony, please" they sobbed as they clutched the letter and photo in their hand.
the photo was of them, tony and morgan, smiling at an amusement part, morgan on tony's shoulders and y/n glued to his side. on the back was the date that the photo was taken with a delicately drawn heart and "remember me" written under it. the letter was clearly written in a rush, but every word was still delicately thought out and put onto the page.
"hey love,
if you're ready this i guess it's bad news for me, guess i died during the misson, god i'm sorry to leave you, it wasn't my intention, but i had to keep you and morgan safe. that kid is gonna do great things y/n i know it, i hate that i'm not gonna be around for you and her while she's growing up, but tell her that her dad loved her very much, same for you,
you mean the absolute world to me darling, thank you for choosing me, even after me being a dumbass for all those years and not opening my eyes, i regret it now because as i look back i realise,
it's you love, it's always been you.
please don't mourn or anything, my time was gonna come eventually, i'm just sad i didn't get more time with you, i love you, i wish i could be there by your side, i wish i didn't have to trade mt life for the guarantee of your safety, but jf that's what it requires the that's what i'll do. stay safe dear, i promise we'll see eachother soon.
- T.S xx"
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fanficlibraryposts · 3 days ago
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Superhero (Marvel/DC) Fic Rec
Marvel:
Ten times outta nine, I’m a hand grenade by twobettafish
Though neither remembered that night, it turns out that Tony Stark and Stephen Strange had first encountered each other years earlier. Unfortunately, that might end up destroying the universe.
Tony Stark: PR God by PinkEasterEggs
Tony just wants some good press for a change. 
*cute and fluffy series ft. 73 Questions, Dad!Tony and Son!Peter*
for a hundred visions and revisions by aventria, iluxia    
Dr. Strange looks at the world after Thanos and, faced with its seemingly irreparable brokenness, breaks his own oath. Tony, Stephen, and Loki go back in time for one more chance - an intentional choice, because they are each other's insurance against repeating the same mistakes. Tony wakes up shortly before the Stark Expo with the reactor's palladium core still poisoning him. Stephen wakes up with undamaged hands and a flourishing medical career. Loki wakes up in Asgard one day before Thor's coronation. "Do I dare disturb the universe? / In a minute there is time / for decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse."
*Loki time travel fic !*
In a Land of 24-hour News Cycle and a Time of Science by Morena Evensong
Sometimes, history repeats itself. Sometimes, it gets written anew. And sometimes, there comes an age when old heroes aren't needed. In a world where protecting the innocent isn't as simple as swinging a sword, a small antiques shop stands between Chinatown and Little Italy. Inside, history is never forgotten and legends are remembered as they truly were, and seen as they truly are.
*Merlin crossover, have to have least basic knowledge of the show*
Have I Changed by katling
 I liked you more before you met the Avengers.
It's an offhand comment that Tony wasn't sure he was actually meant to hear. But he did and he doesn't know what it means. Lucky for him, Rhodey's got an answer for him.
*anti-cap*
Be careful what you wish for, you may just get it by Savana_Marlark
A snap. A gauntlet. A dying man's regret. It is a dangerous thing to wish with infinity stones on your fist.
Sent back to the sands of Afghanistan, Tony Stark has a world to fix, and a Titan to stop, but he won't be doing it alone.
DC:
A Signal Of Hope by LananiA3O
None of the Robins had ever liked the galas held at the manor, but while their own experiences before during and after the event may have been as different the boys were from each other in general, one thing Bruce knew for sure: he would always, always be there to defend his sons from the vultures of this world.
A Diamond in the Rough by AllyMander
Richard John Grayson watches frozen as his parents fall, and in return everything changes.
Dick isn't adopted by the billionaire Bruce Wayne, no, instead he's taken in by his grandfather William Cobb. Or rather stolen away, to be broken down and twisted beyond repair. But Cobb miscalculates, and underestimating a child was never a good idea. For Dick has his own goals, striking his grandfather down, attaining his freedom, then dismantling the rest of the Court of Owls.
This is the story of how Dick builds a life for himself with bloody hands, refusing to follow any orders but his own. Even if that puts him on the radar of not only the Light but Batman and the Young Justice team. To him it doesn't matter, all that matters is he's a Grayson, and Grayson's are meant to fly.
Collected Bat-Family Stories by CloakedSparrow
A collection of interconnected ficlets, one shots, and stories, all focused on the Bat Family. All are based on the comics only, but blend assorted canons.
*An emotional roller coaster, from the fluffiest fluff to the most angsty angst*
a storge for you by glassofwater
They’ve never really believed in death. They know it exists, they see it all the time. It’s there, but it just doesn’t last for them. Death has never been permanent, only a mere pause in their lives. But here they stand, watching his coffin be lowered into the ground.
Infallible Dick Grayson was a fraud.
*soooo angsty, tears abound*
Disclaimer: The fanfiction above were not written by me for I am not nearly as creative. However, I am an avid reader and movie buff so these are some of my favorite fanfiction within the fandom. I politely ask that you read the tags attached the fanfiction beforehand so that you know what you are getting yourself into, there may be crossovers. If you don’t like it then don’t read it. In addition, I ask that there be no bashing, the fics are based on my preferences and what I like. Lastly, if there are any specific genre or fandom of fics you want me to get into let me know through my ask box.
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iwritedumbshit · 3 days ago
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Comfort in My Shadow
Chapter 6: That I Would Be Good
By @iwritedumbshit for @iron-mum
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Ned Leeds, James “Rhodey” Rhodes
Summary: Soulmates are definite in the universe. Nobody knows exactly why they exist, or what dictates who is bonded to who, the only thing known is that they are never wrong. But Peter’s not so sure about that.
Living at the group home had taught Peter a lot about laying low and how to stay alive when nobody cares. But he’d always clung to the hope of the shadow at his feet reflecting his soulmate that had watched over him for years.
Typical that his soulmate is actually a superhero that Peter is convinced shouldn’t want anything to do with him. Maybe, just this once, the Universe was wrong.
But Tony Stark is desperate to prove that it is right.
Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 7 // Ch 8
---
When Peter woke up, it was horribly bright. His eyes opened a sliver only to be immediately squeezed shut with a groan, a sensory overload surely on its way as the harsh yellow light broke through even his tightly shut eyes. He could already feel the migraine, but the teenager pushed it down as the memories of what had happened flooded back.
The ferry. Mr. Stark. The suit. The men in the alley. And then...darkness. And now wherever he was right now he guessed. After a few moments, Peter managed to crack his eyes open again, surprised a little by the room he was in, not that he'd expected much to be honest.
Peter himself was chained to a pillar, his arms cuffed around it uncomfortably while metal ropes twisted around him at least five times over. His entire body was stiff, leaving him to think he'd been stuck in this position for at least a few hours. What time was it? Had anyone noticed he was missing? Peter blinked emptily, very much doubting it. Nobody at Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys would be expecting him home until late, and it wasn't like Mr. Stark was going to be looking for him.
The teenager took a deep, rattled breath, pushing the regret to the back of his mind and observing the rest of his situation instead.
The yellow lights in the room were horrible bright, allowing for Peter's shadow to loom out in front of him in a stark contrast to the light concrete ground. He forced himself to turn away from it, instead trying to find a means of escape. There were no windows in the small room that he would peg as a larger storage room, though there wasn't really anything to store. There were a few plastic shelves that had wheels on the end, but, save for a couple of blankets and a pillow, there was nothing resting on them. The only other things in the room were a metal door, a stained bucket, a few stools, and a blinking camera.
Peter turned to glare at it directly, watching it warily as the light on it blinked red. Who was behind that camera? It had to be the vulture guy, right? He'd recognized one of the men that had come to grab him, and they had alien weapons, so. Yeah, Peter may have gotten in a little over his head.
"Hello?" he called, shouldering the ropes wrapped around him. They didn't give, just rubbing against the hoodie that still smelled of Mr. Stark. He tried desperately to block it out. "Hey! What the hell's going on!?"
There was, of course, no answer, so he slumped against the pillar, grimacing at the hunger gnawing at his stomach. He wished desperately that he knew what time it was. Then again, he guessed it didn't really matter. His grounding had already been extended, and what was a few more missed meals? It surely didn't feel like it really mattered anymore.
It was a few minutes before anyone came by. Peter was straining against the chains, struggling to get some kind of hold in his awkward position, when the sound of footsteps caught his attention. He paused in his efforts, stilling to stare at the door as it opened and a wrinkled man stepped through. It took him a moment, but he was quick to realize that it had been the man on the ferry.
This must be the vulture guy.
The door boomed to a slow shut behind the man, who grabbed one of the stools and sat atop it, regarding Peter easily. There was a minute of tense silence before anyone spoke.
"I'm sorry to do this to you, Peter," the man started. Peter scowled. Great. Of course the man knew his name. "But you're bad for business, and so is your little shadow right there, so you'll be staying with us for the time being."
Peter blinked, trying to hide his surprise as he glanced down at the shadow he'd been avoiding. The vulture guy knew Mr. Stark was his soulmate?
"What is this? A ransom? Because he won't pay."
The man huffed sarcastically, shaking his head. "You two seem close." Peter bristled at the mockery in the man's voice. "But, no, I'm not going to ransom you for money. You'll be a nice and easy distraction while we take what we want."
Peter stared at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"I'm afraid you aren't cleared to know that," the man said, standing up. "The light will stay on while you're here, in case you give Stark any flashes. The only way out is through this door, which has a second electric door on it that will reactivate once I leave. If you stay nice for this first day, or if you somehow manage to do it yourself, you'll be let out of the chains and brought meals on the regular. Understand?"
"How long do you think you're going to keep me here?"
"Just a few days. You will miss your Homecoming, though, I'm afraid."
"How did you find me?" Peter demanded. The man gave him a threatening smile.
"All we had to do was follow your shadow."
And then he was out the door. Peter was left alone in the overly bright room. Just him, his shadow, and the clinking chains.
He knocked his head against the pillar, closing his eyes shut with a regretful sigh.
  ---
After a few hours of rest, Peter managed to wrestle out of his ropes. First he snapped the handcuffs holding him against the pillar, flinching as the metal cut into his skin, and then tearing through the last of the binds restraining the rest of him. As the man had promised, no one came for him after he'd freed himself from the ropes, leaving the boy to his own devices. So he'd gone on to try and figure a plan of escape. These men were planning something, scheming to trick Mr. Stark, and they were going to use him to do it. And Peter wasn't going to let them.
That had been two days ago.
With a tired sigh, the teenager knocked his head against the stone wall for the millionth time that day, staring up at the camera and wishing desperately there was at least something for him to do. He'd even take a coloring book at this point. With those dumb twisty Crayola pencils. Anything was better than just sitting here and wondering.
Wondering what was happening. Wondering how people were reacting to his disappearing. Wondering if Mr. Stark had heard, or if he'd cared. And, of course, pondering the 'What if?'
What if Peter hadn't gone after the vulture guy? What if he'd listened to Mr. Stark? What if he'd done better and been able to take the man down without messing up? Would he be a good soulmate then? One worthy of Mr. Stark?
There were no answers to his questions. Not one. There were speculations and dreams and nightmares that had shocked him awake the few times he'd been able to catch slivers of sleep in this place, but there were no concrete answers. Maybe there never would be.
"Forever."
Peter shook himself vehemently, turning away from the camera to stare at the door instead. At least the meal times here were consistent, more that with Mr. Fowler, though with the same boring peanut butter sandwiches for every meal. In all honestly, if the teenager had been given something to entertain himself with, or the lights were at least dimmed for when he needed to sleep, he'd consider this place better than the group home. Yes, he was aware of how horrible that was, but anything was better than the musty odor of liquor and the sharp tug of a hand, fingernails biting.
Teeming with unbearably restless energy, Peter pushed himself to his feet, walking around the small room in laps, trying once more to find anything to get out of here. A loose nail, a crowbar, something cool that an alien weapons dealer might have left in their storage room, but, like the first thousand times, there was nothing for the teenager to grab. There was the bucket for him to relieve himself in, the couple of empty storage shelves (he'd placed the left over blanket and pillow on the top of one, feeling much safer to be at least out of temporary reach should anyone come into the room to try and grab him), and the stools. There was, also, the camera, but that had made out to be very off limits since day one.
He'd crawled up the wall towards it and the light had immediately flashed red, a warning buzzer screeching through the storage closet. With a shiver up his spine, Peter had dropped from the wall, clutching at his ears desperately. The light had turned yellow once more and the room had been returned to that horrible, thick silence.
And it had been like that since.
And today it changed.
The hairs on his arms raised, forcing Peter to sit up from where he was laying against the wired shelf. He glanced at the camera warily but, a few seconds later, the door buzzed and then opened. There were three men. Vulture guy, shocky-gauntlet dude, and the other man that had been in the alley when Peter had been taken. They all had weapons.
Vulture guy was the calmest of the three, horrifyingly easygoing as he stopped in the middle of the room, looking at Peter lazily. The teenager eyed the gun strapped to his belt.
"Get down here, Pedro. You've got work to do."
Peter stared at the man. The man stared at Peter.
"What kind of work?" he asked hesitantly, keeping his expression painfully schooled, though he wasn't sure it'd worked.
"Just a bit of good ol' fashioned negotiation."
"I already told you he wouldn't pay a ransom."
"Money's not what we're looking for, kid," the man said. He gestured to the gun strapped to his hip. "Now we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. You choose."
"What are you? A cop?" Peter muttered, but he jumped down from the shelf anyway, keeping his head up in an attempt to avoid his shadow. The man smiled, clearly amused by his joke.
"I've got the cuffs to prove it," he joked, pulling the thick metal cuffs out. They weren't regular cuffs, like the ones that he'd snapped out of a few days ago, but instead thick ones that would coat all the way up to his wrists. They were held out, open, in front of him expectantly. "Putter' there, kid."
With a low exhale, Peter placed his hands in the cuffs, resisting a flinch when they clamped shut. The man just smiled on him, a condescending pat on his shoulder. He couldn't help the flinch.
"Great. Let's get going."
Peter followed the man out of the room he'd been trapped in, his hands stuck together in front of him and his head forced up away from the glare of his shadow. The teenager finally took in the building he'd been kept in for the past two days, eyes narrowing as he tried to remember every single detail, but it wasn't some sort of maze like he'd been expecting. It was just--a warehouse. An empty warehouse, a few loose pieces of furniture and knick-knacks scattered on the cement floors.
It wasn't very long before they stepped through one last hallway, ending in an open room. It was as dim as everything else had been, shadowed pillars holding up the ceiling. For some reason, his hairs raised and his spine shivered. He halted to a suspicious stop, staring at the vulture guy for a moment before turning to stare at the rest of the room. Something in here was wrong. Very, very, wrong.
The man with the shocker knocked against his shoulder, pushing Peter forward. With a hesitant shiver, the teenager followed after the man, examining every inch of the room he could see.
They stopped in the dead center of the room beside one the pillars. A pile of chains sat on the ground next to it. Peter stared at it for a moment, brows furrowing, before turning to look back up. His eyes caught onto a timer on the wall, sitting idle at thirty minutes but not yet counting down.
The clinking of chains caught Peter's attention, and he turned to see the shocker guy and the other men grabbing the metal and staring up at him expectantly. He glanced between them and the timer, his eyebrows raised. The vulture smiled.
"It'll all be explained later," he said. Then he shrugged. "Or maybe it won't. I don't really care either way. Now sit down."
Peter glanced at the pillar, the men with the surrounding chains, his cuffed hands, and, finally, at his shadow. His gaze rested there for a tired moment, at where he'd been refusing to look at for days. At the sharp cut of Mr. Stark's chin and the hair that was always spiked up in a constant swoop. He was grateful that shadows didn't have eyes, saving him from the man's disappointed stare.
But the shadow wouldn't save him from the men here, so Peter would have to. He'd have to at least try.
"Yep. I will definitely do that now," Peter said, moving over to the men.
He allowed for the shocker gauntlet guy to move just a little closer, and then he struck. With metal encased fists, the teenager lashed out, landing a harsh punch to the man's face and following it with a kick that launched him halfway across the room. There was panicked shouts as he whirled back around, ducking low as a bullet fired, lodging in the pillar behind him.
He rolled as he ducked, using the force of his weight to slam into the other man's legs, who consequently tumbled to the ground. Peter rolled fast enough to carry past the man as he fell, springing back up onto his feet clumsily. He ran, ducking behind a pillar as gunshots rang, the men picking themselves back up.
The teenager twisted, searching for an escape. There was a door to his right, about halfway across the room. A few pillars stood between him and his best shot at freedom, just enough for him to dive and grab some cover, but it would be risky. Peter glanced at his shadow.
He ran.
He only made it past two pillars when his senses spiked. He dropped into a crouch on instinct, flinching as the pillar beside was slashed, a slice of beating wind rushing over him. He squinted up to see the vulture's wingsuit, turning around at the wall and circling the room once before coming back to Peter. He moved to run, but the suit had already caught up with the gasping teen, blocking his path and knocking him to the ground.
Footsteps echoed lightly as Peter tried to scramble back to his feet, only managing to push himself onto his elbows until there was the click of a gun. He turned, glaring up at the vulture guy, a pistol in hand pointed barely a few feet from his head.
"Nice try, Pedro," the man said, pulling back a smile. He called, "Schultz!"
Shock gauntlet guy was back, one eye black and his gauntlet buzzing with power. It charged up with an electric whine, the man raised back his fist, and when it came down, Peter only knew two things. Pain and darkness.
  ---
Tony stared around the completely packed tower, only a few boxes left in his lab to be moved to the plane that would blend into the dark New York night in barely ten minutes. He sighed, tucking his hands in his pocket as he looked out the window over the city. The billionaire had never been known for his sentiment, but even he could say that this move held a lot of significance. And, not only that, but, out there in the dark city below, his little shadow remained.
He'd been reeling the past couple days from the incident at the ferry, about Peter's actions and his own. In the end, the kid was only a kid, one desperate to put some good in the world. He was smart and strong and everything Tony hadn't been, but then he thought of the people on that ferry. If one had died, and Peter had been the cause of it--well, it was easy to see the kid would have never recovered from that.
He needed time, and Tony needed time too. 'Forever' had been a little rash, but a week and a half didn't quite have the consequences the teenager needed to swallow. After returning from the dock, he'd placed the neatly folded suit into the nearest box and hadn't looked back. He assumed the suit was somewhere still in the empty lab, waiting to be unpacked and then eventually returned to the kid when Tony saw him on Friday.
He furrowed his brows, pulling out his phone. Maybe he should text Peter, or call him, and make sure he was okay. He hadn't really expected to hear from the kid in the past few days, but after seeing Peter's thin ribs and hearing that his foster father had taken his money, he was less than thrilled to leave him alone.
Glancing back at the boxes left, he moved to click on the kid's number. This wouldn't take too long, and they would be going in his car anyway. No plane required.
An echoed ringtone answered the stale night air before he could click call.
"What?" he muttered to himself, turning his phone off. He turned away from the window to stare at the leftover boxes. Hesitantly, he stepped over to them, opening the one where the ringing was loudest.
Peter's suit sat inside, twitching as it rang. He reached out his hand, grabbing the red fabric and pulling it out. It was folded crisply, the mask tucked away neatly between the cloth. He snagged it from beneath the fabric, surprised at the heaviness of it.
A badge, a card, and a ringing phone all tumbled out, clattering on the floor as the mask was upturned.
What the hell...?
He kneeled down beside the items, heart racing and picking up the still ringing phone displaying an unknown number. He snatched it up, answering the call immediately and pressing it up to his ear, picking up the other items left behind.
"Hello? Who is this?"
"Hmm, I expected a cute kid like Parker's soulmate to be nicer." Tony froze, motioning for Friday to begin tracking the call. "Then again, I knew what I was walking into ever since you pulled him out of that lake last week. You two should really be more careful about where you hold your conversations, y'know."
"Get to the point," he snapped. Out of the lake. Vulture Guy. He pulled up a separate hologram and began to search for what he'd previously left to the FBI. Pictures and shaky videos of the large metal wings appeared in front of him.
"Y'know," the man dawdled, ignoring Tony's demand. "I didn't quite believe the kid when he said you wouldn't pay a ransom. I mean, a billionaire for a soulmate and, with no hesitation, he just said it. But really, I get it now. I do."
"You don't get anything."
"I don't? Well, that's a surprise. I usually get things, and this one isn't very hard to tell. Kid hasn't looked at his shadow in two days."
Two...
"What the hell have you done to him?" he whispered, voice cold. He whirled around towards the screen that had the phone's location, brows furrowing when it wasn't any closer to finding out the source of the call.
"I've insured that business will continue to boom, Tony," the man answered easily. Tony took a seething breath, reigning himself in. Ransom. He'd said something about a ransom.
"What do you want?"
"Did you finish packing yet?"
Tony glanced at the boxes. "Yes."
"Good. That plane of yours is scheduled to take off soon. Let's make sure it stays that way."
"And Peter?"
"You get to come and get him."
"And if the plane doesn't stay on schedule?"
"You won't get the location in time. No more shadow for you."
Tony glanced down at the mask clutched in his hand and then at the shadow on the ground. It was pale in the dim room, hair curly and clothed in a baggy sweatshirt.
"I need proof that you have him," he demanded. There was ding. Drawing the phone away from his ear, he glared down at the photo. Peter was slumped against a cement pillar, chains wrapped tightly and thickly around him and the pillar. He was gagged and clearly passed out, a purple bruise forming around his eye. He still wore Tony's red hoodie.
"Did you get your proof?"
Tony swallowed. "Yep. Loud and clear."
"Great. When your plane leaves, I'll send you the location. As of now, you have half an hour."
"Until what?"
"I guess you'll find out."
And then the call disconnected.
"Shit!" he yelled, grabbing the suit and balling it up. "Friday, location."
"I was unable to trace the call, sir."
He rubbed at his face. "How long until wings up?"
"Ten minutes."
"Keep an eye out for an anonymous message. Notify me immediately. And how long would it take to get out a suit and reassemble it?"
"For the current Mark, anywhere between ten and fifteen minutes."
"That's too long," he muttered. Everything was taking too long. "Get my car ready downstairs. I want it waiting out front for me at a moment's notice."
"Of course, sir."
Panicking only slightly, he grabbed the last two boxes, piling them in his arms and rushing them to the elevator. The ride was quick, but it could have been quicker. When the doors slid open, he dashed out to where workers were piling the last of the tower's belongings into the open plane, Happy overseeing them all.
"All right, wheels up in eight minutes. We just got to load Tony’s old Hulkbuster armor, prototype for Cap’s new shield, and the Meging... the Meg... the... Thor’s magic belt," his friend called, catching sight of Tony, he paused. "And these two boxes. Hey, boss, what's up? You look like you're about to be sick."
"I need the plane going as quickly as possible. And I really mean as fast. As. Possible."
"Tony, what--"
"Just get it going," Tony snapped, making a note to apologize to his friend later. There wasn't any time to explain. Happy stared at him, and then nodded.
"Okay. Five minutes, it'll be in the air."
"Good. Thanks, Hap."
Tony left the boxes, keeping the suit and Peter's belongings with him and dashing back to the elevator. It took him to the empty bottom floor as quickly as possible, where he practically tore out through the doors and to where his car was waiting for him. The gas was already running as he slipped into it, pulling out his phone and waiting.
"How long since the timer started, Fri?"
"Seven minutes."
"The plane?"
"Taking off now."
Tony rolled down the window, poking his head out and squinting up. There was a distortion of movement, and then there was a buzz. He turned back into the car, glaring down at his phone to see an address in Brooklyn.
He floored on the gas.
"How far away is this?"
"Approximately twenty-eight minutes."
"How long we got?"
"Twenty-two."
"Great. Let's be there in twenty. Quickest route. I don't care how many laws we have to break to get there, got it? And trace the message's location, send it to Rhodes when you find it."
"Of course, sir."
Tony didn't know how many red lights he forced the car through, how many people he cut off and sped around, cutting every corner he could possibly find. It didn't feel fast enough. But nothing ever could. The only thing that went fast enough was the rapid pounding of his skittery heart.
How could he have been so stupid to leave Peter alone like that? To meet him and then drop him off like the drop of the hat. And to not even bring him home or make sure he wasn't injured. Or to even just have a reasonable conversation. It was despicable of Tony. And now Peter might die because of it. His little shadow.
While driving, he ordered for Friday to find Peter's missing person's report, his heart beating rapidly as he tried to piece together when the kid had been taken. Where? How far out had Tony been? Had they just been waiting for him to leave?
As it turned out, there wasn't one. Tony chewed his lip, pushing it to the back of his mind for now and just continuing to floor the pedal. One step at a time. He just had to get there before whatever was going to happen happened.
Tony ended up arriving in eighteen. He barely even parked the car, just ripped down the joystick and leaped out, running without any kind of hesitation into the dark warehouse.
  ---
When Peter blinked awake, it was to a constant ticking and the loss of his shadow. He panicked, struggling in an attempt to see what had guarded over him for so long. He needed it now more than ever. The chains he was trapped in rattled and clinked with his weak movements, and he winced at the pain around his eye and the soreness in his jaw. After a moment, he realized that it was the tight gag cutting into his cheeks so hard he was sure that there were cuts around the area.
A little more searching revealed to the trapped teenager that his shadow was still there, if a little faint. It stumped out in front of him, hard to make out, but Peter was grateful nonetheless. He knocked his head against the pillar, staring at the shadow in an attempt to force down the way his hairs were still raised on end.
He forced himself to tune into the ticking that was still happening, furrowing his brows and straining his ears. There was a lot of ticking actually. One in the pillar across to him, and the one across from him, and the ones line across the room...
The pillars were filled with bombs.
His breath caught.
Breathing was hard through the tight gag, but he managed to shudder in a few deep breaths, his whole body moving with the impossible action. After what felt like forever, he was a little more coherent, a little more able to comprehend his situation. Peter glanced away from his shadow, instead staring up to where the timer had been earlier. It was counting down quickly, now leaving him with five and a half minutes. The vulture guy hadn't said what was going to happen when that timer ran out, but, given the ticking bombs in the pillars, he had an idea.
The teenager began to struggle, trying desperately to get a good enough grip to pull his cuffs apart, but the chains kept his arms firmly strapped against his side. He let out a frustrated grunt after a minute of fruitless wrestling with the clinking metal, letting his head drop and blinking tiredly. Think, Parker, think.
"PETER!!"
Peter perked back up at the sound of his name, his eyes widening as he recognized the frantic voice echoing through the halls. Mr. Stark. What was Mr. Stark doing here? Is this what the vulture guy had meant?
Peter tried to shout back but, of course, the gag muffled his ability to speak. All that was choked out was a long grunt that barely made it past the room. He tried a few more times, rustling his chains as loud as possible to catch the man's attention. It apparently worked, because footsteps approached.
Mr. Stark burst through the door, frantic and wild eyes landing on Peter with a short gasp, but he never stopped running, sliding to a stop on his knees in front of the boy.
"Peter. Oh, my God, Peter, I am so sorry," the man apologized, his voice a whisper. Hands reached out towards his face. Peter couldn't help the way he flinched away, his head knocking against the pillar painfully, leaving splintered cracks in the cement. Mr. Stark paused, mumbling a horrified apology and glancing at his watch anxiously. "Okay, here's the deal. We're under a pretty strict time limit, okay? I just gotta get you out of here. Can I...can I take your gag off? Please?"
Peter hesitated, glancing at the clock behind Mr. Stark's head. Three and a half minutes.
Mr. Stark followed his gaze, glancing over his shoulder to catch sight of the ticking timer, his expression darkening. He turned back to Peter.
"Like I said, time limit. So, can I?"
After a moment, Peter nodded, leaning his head forward to let him grasp at the fabric. His instincts screamed to not give the man purchase to his hair, but Peter knew better. Not that he could stop the flinch when Mr. Stark's fingers brushed against the back of his head.
Mr. Stark reached forward immediately, untying the knot and pulling the gag away in a gentle manner, letting Peter finally take a deep breath. He moved his jaw, trying to undo some of the tension trapped there and wincing at the pain that dug into it. The billionaire moved onto working the chains, his watch turning into a bright red Iron Man gauntlet that began to power through the metal.
It was silent a moment before, "When did they get you?"
Peter swallowed, leaning his head back and shrugging. "After the uh--after the ferry. Cornered me in an alley probably half an hour after."
"I'm sorry, kid," Mr. Stark apologized, but Peter just shrugged again, staring pointedly forward. He kept a careful eye on the clock. Two and a half minutes, and the chains weren't looking good. He narrowed his eyes, glancing down at the watch. It didn't have a direct power source, and he very much doubted it would be able to break through all of his chains in time. He swallowed.
"It's okay. My fault anyways."
"No. This isn't--"
"It is, Mr. Stark," Peter protested. Mr. Stark stared at him, but he needed this off of his chest. This horrible guilt that he was he'd never get the chance to get rid of. And now might be his last opportunity. "I was the one who went after the vulture guy. Not even with good intentions. I just... I don't know. You're--you're Tony Stark, and having me for a soulmate seemed less than thrilling to you. I just wanted to prove that I was worthy to be your shadow. And I didn't. And I'm sorry. And...and I get why you didn't want to talk to me again."
"Peter--"
"Just go, Mr. Stark."
"What? No! I will not leave you--"
"The clock, Mr. Stark." They both turned to look at it. "Less than a minute. You won't get me free in time."
"We don't even know what will happen! It could be a fluke for all we know," the man protested. Peter stared at him, unable to keep himself from trembling in fear, gesturing towards the nearest pillar with a nod of his head. His voice was a quaking whisper.
"These all have bombs in them. Every single one, except for the one I'm tied against. You won't make it if you stay here."
Mr. Stark stared at him, his gaze hard, still blazing through the chains. None had been completely broken yet, but they were beginning to turn orangey-red. There was a frightening resolution in his stare, and Peter did his best to return it despite how much he was blinking back horribly frustrated tears. He forced his gaze away, checking the timer once more. Twenty seconds.
"Please, Mr. Stark. You need to go."
"I'm not leaving you," the man said. The chains were getting redder, Peter could probably tear at them soon, but not soon enough. He continued straining anyway, grunting as the metal resisted against him. "We're going to have a much longer talk later, kid, but I don't want you to think for a second that I don't want you as my soulmate. You're a good kid, with a good heart. There is nothing to prove. Absolutely nothing."
Peter glanced at him from where he was straining, surprised at the wetness swimming in the man's eyes.
The chains snapped, falling around Peter in a metal heap. The timer beeped.
The thundering of booms crowded Peter, going off around the room in a sporadic circle. Mr. Stark's arms wrapped around him immediately, a protective body shielding him against what Peter had honestly expected to be a bigger explosion. Instead, they were small, knocking out the middle of the pillars so quickly that trying to follow them made his head spin. He figured out what was happening just a second too late.
Working against the instinct to curl himself into a protective huddle underneath his soulmate, safe from the crowding dust and explosions that shattered through the air so hard that he could feel the vibrations underneath the man's arms, the teenager broke free of his hold. The ceiling crumbled down as quickly as he moved, forcing Mr. Stark to the ground as far away as he could reach and piling himself in between.
No amount of bracing himself could have prepared Peter for the pain.
Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 7 // Ch 8
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natandwandaseries · 4 days ago
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Heart and Soul: A Mini Fic
Tony and Natasha are sitting on the couch in the compound, watching as Peter and Wanda get even more competitive over a game of air hockey- goes for best 17 out of 32 right now.
Natasha looks over at Tony, thinking.
“What is it Red? Do I have something on my face?”
“No, it’s not that,” She sighs.
“What is it?”
“Feeling nostalgic, thinking about the early days,” She shrugs.
“Yeah, fighting aliens and the like. Definitely miss that.”
“No, I mean, it’s been eleven years since I’ve had the chance to stab you in the neck.”
“Since you’ve had the chance?” Tony sputters.
“I haven’t had the pleasure since,” She shakes her head in mock grief.
“Unbelievable,” he rolls his eyes, then more quietly adds, “Can’t believe it’s been that long.”
“I know,”
“Eleven years of friendship with you isn’t so bad,”
“The heart and soul of the team,” Nat nudges him. They descend into silence, watching their kids cheer and play, amazed by how much and how little things can change in eleven years.
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~ Come to bed ~
You always wake up when the bed is empty. You can feel it when Tony is not there anymore.
And you know where he probably is.
Tony often gets up late at night to work on his new projects. He's always afraid he's not doing enough to protect everyone.
And when that happens, you always go looking for him to bring him back here. You're worried about his health and he's working so hard, he deserves to sleep.
You go down to his lab.
"Honey.. you're not sleeping?" Tony says, turning to you slightly as he hears you coming.
"I can't without you."
He's working at his desk, in front of his holograms and screens.
You watch him move these holograms with his hands, concentrated in what he does.
You are impressed by his intelligence and so touched by his heart. Always putting others before himself.
But he looked so tired and deserves so much better.
You walk towards him and stand behind him. You run your hands over his tense shoulders and massage them.
Tony sighs lightly.
He always holds the weight of the world on his shoulders. If only the world would be grateful.
You put your arms around his neck and rest your head on his shoulders.
Tony stops what he's doing and after kissing him on the cheek, he puts his hands on yours and caresses them gently.
Then he turns his chair toward you with a small broken smile.
"Come to bed honey" you tell him with a smile.
"I want to. But I have to finish this as soon as possible.. I must.."
"You don't have to blame yourself for anything. You always do your best. And you do more for the world than anyone has ever done. You're the most selfless man that I know. You deserve to sleep and take time for yourself."
You take Tony's hands in yours.
"I love you and I need you with me please" you remind him, pulling him to you, and making him get up from the chair.
"I love you too. Okay.." says Tony as he smiles at you and lets himself be dragged back to your room.
You're really the only one who can convince him and make him want to get out of his lab.
You lie down in bed and look at each other smiling, eyes full of love.
You gently stroke his cheek.
"I'm proud of you," you tell him before kissing him.
Tony clings to you and you cuddle.
You hold him tight as you gently stroke his soft hair.
This man is your whole life and you love him more than anyone could ever imagine.
After a few minutes he falls asleep safe and sound in your arms.
And the next morning you both wake up still in each other arms, rested and happy.
#BringBackTonyStarktolife
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