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Tony: *makes and adds Peter to a group chat called “my beloved children❤️❤️❤️ (SARCASTIC)”* (Authors note: he’s not being sarcastic)
Peter, sitting across from Tony: *starts crying*
Tony, panicking: what’s wrong?!? What did I do?!?
Peter: yOu ThiNK oF Me As yOur ChIlD???
Tony: yes???
Peter: SinCE WHEN
Tony: since always??? Pete-
Peter: WHY DIDNT I KNOW BECAUSE I THINK OF YOU AS MY DAD AND IF I KNEW THAT YOU THOUGHT OF ME AS YOUR KID THAT WOUKD HAVE BEEN SO MUCH EASIER TO ADMIT.
It's Been a Long Long Time- Bucky Barnes X Reader (Thunderbolts)
Note: i wanted to write something very sweet but also with a lot of yearning. i mean i still imagine bucky would miss the 40's a lot, the music, his family, his childhood sometimes, even if he doesnt show it, and the the new team (avengers) and reader, along with yelena,alexie,john,ava and bob would plan a birthday party for him
Bucky never made a point of dates like that, never lingered on them, but you had learned to notice the small things he let slip. The way he went quiet when an old song played somewhere in the distance. When his eyes softened when he told you about his life before Hydra.
Once, late at night after a rough mission drinking tea in the common room, he had mentioned it without meaning to. How his ma baked cakes for his birthday, something simple, nothing fancy. How radios played low in the background, him and his sisters running through the streets to the corner bakeries with fogged up windows, Steve at his side, the whole day stretching out like it would never end. The feeling that time moved slower then, like days were something you could hold onto instead of something that slipped past. He had said it like it didn’t matter, like it was just another memory.
He had smiled, just a little. Soft. Gone almost as soon as it appeared.
You hadn't said anything then. Didn’t know how to. Words had never really been your thing, not for things that mattered. They always seemed too small or too clumsy, around him like they might break something if you used them wrong.
So you remembered instead.
You stood in the kitchen now, opening a jar to the faint sweetness of strawberry jam- sleeves pushed up, hands dusted in flour, staring down at a recipe you had already read three times. A Victoria sponge cake. It felt right. Something old. It was easier than saying anything out loud. Easier than trying to put a name to the way your chest tightened when he smiled at you, or how careful he always was around you, and they way he always treated you differently, he was just so much more gentle.
The elevator door chimed open in between as you began mixing the batter.
“MOVE- move-,” Yelena’s voice came first, sharp and impatient, already halfway inside before anyone answered.
“If I drop this, I am blaming all of you."
“Careful” Bob muttered under his breath, adjusting his grip on the box like it might slip at any second.
“If you drop it, I’m not catching it.”
Yelena didn’t even look at him. “You will catch it.”
He huffed, but shifted closer anyway, steadying the side as she set it down on the counter with surprising care.
For a second, she just looked at the vinly record player they all planned to by him along with the huge bag of vintage records.
Bob leaned over to your batter mix,
“You went a little overboard.” You said as you peaked in the bags set at the counter already moving to unpack them.
Yelena shrugged as she dipped a finger into the batter, tasted it, then frowned slightly.
“He is over a hundred years old. He missed out on like seven decades of music.”
Bob then reached for the mixing bowl instead. “Alright. Tell me what to do before you ruin this.”
Bob was somewhat the resident baker, it helped him calm down after a long day. You all loved it.
“I did not ruin it.” You huffed, having specifically followed his exact instructions to make sure it was up to Bob's baking standards.
You both were intrupped from another corner of the room-as bob added more sugar in the batter,
“It is simple task eh” Alexei declared, holding up a balloon with confidence.
Ava didn’t even look up. “You’ve popped three.”
“They were weak.”
“They’re balloons.”
He blew another one up, cheeks puffing slightly, holding it for a second like he’d proven something-
Pop.
Ava closed her eyes briefly. “Four.”
“It is defective batch,” Alexei insisted, already reaching for another.
“No, you’re just-” Pop.
“..Five.”
Ava took the bag from his hands. “Give me that.”
Alexei frowned. “You are ruining morale.”
“Well, You’re ruining the balloons.”
Well, fair enough. God this was going to be a long evening.
John stood from the sofa purposeful as ever previously. “Give me those before we run out completely.”
Alexei watched him take over with narrowed eyes, then turned, already onto the next task, announcing “Fine. I will do something more important.”
“That’s not reassuring,” Ava muttered. Alexei appeared in the kitchen next to you, taking several bottles already out.
“Alright,” he said, like he was addressing a room much larger than it was. “What does he drink?”
“Not whatever you’re about to make,” John replied tying up the last balloon.
"Hmm..Werent cocktails a thing in the 40s?"
Alexei ignored him. “We make something classic. Something strong.”
Ava called out, ‘A Mai Tai sounds perfect right now.’
“Did they even have Mai Tai's in the 40s?” Bob asked.
Yelena didn’t look up from wrapping paper. “Get something he actually likes.”
Alexei paused.
“…Vodka,” he decided.
“No,” three voices said at once.
"Okay guys, calm down" You called out, removing your apron, "Can someone preheat the oven?"
"Yeah I can-" Bob was rudely intrupped by "Let me do it" As John strode over,
“…Okay,” John said slowly, crouched in front of it. “Why does it have this many settings?”
No one answered, as everyone holding out on a laugh.
He pressed a button.
Another beep.
“That didn’t help.”
From behind him, Ava spoke flatly, “It’s an oven, not a bomb.”
“Yeah, well, it’s acting like one.”
He turned the dial, squinting. “What does ‘fan assisted’ even mean? Assisted by what?”
“Air,” Bob said, taking over the setting,
John glanced back at him. "Whatever" he said rolling his eyes.
You grabbed the candles from the drawer and both you and john had the same confusion written over your face,
“Wait,” John said suddenly, looking up from the balloons. “How many candles are we even putting up?”
Yelena glanced over. “All of them.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“He is over a hundred,” she said. “We should respect that.”
“He didn’t live all of those years normally,” Bob pointed out carefully. “There was the whole… frozen part.”
“So what, we put, like, thirty?” John said.
“That feels wrong,” Ava added.
“Thirty-six,” Bob offered. “Compromise.”
Alexei waved a hand. “Put all. He has earned them.”
“He’s gonna walk in and think we’re insane,” John muttered.
“He already thinks that,” Ava said.
Meanwhile, Yelena had drifted back toward the counter, eyeing you again with that same knowing look.
“You are being obvious,” she said.
“I’m not-”
“You are making him a cake from his decade.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means everything,” Ava said quietly setting up the lights and the confetti.
Bob nodded. “It really does.”
Alexei, overhearing, lit up immediately. “Ah! Young love!”
John made a face "Well not exactly young love." “He’s like a hundred.”
“And still more charming than you,” you retorted.
“That’s not the point—”
“It is exactly the point.” And you won that one, right? well you hoped so.
After an hour or so, the cake ended up with as many candles as possible, with you ever so gentle writing the words "happy birthday bucky" and every so often, Bob grinned, whispering, “This is going to make him so happy,” and you couldn’t help but smile back.
Somewhere in the middle of all it, the smell of cake filled the apartment, sweet and warm, tying everything together- balloons hovered near the ceiling, uneven and slightly lopsided, golden strings twisting into each other where the tape hadn’t held properly. A few had already sunk lower than the rest, brushing lazily against the tops of shelves.
There was music too- Frank Valli,Billie Holiday, Etta James softly, crackling faintly through the new record player, something slow and familiar, the kind of sound that didn’t belong to this time.
Bucky was almost about to come home.
From where you stood, half hidden behind the wall, you could see all of it. The crooked banner. The badly tied balloons. John crouched near the couch, still trying to fix one that refused to cooperate. Alexei hovering protectively hiding the drinks to suprise him. Yelena sitting on the floor, finishing the last piece of wrapping the record. John leaning back, and Ava watching everything like she was pretending not to care.
Bob stood next to you, peeking around the corner. “He’s late,” he whispered.
“He’s not late,” you whispered back. “He just-”
"Everyone SHHH" "No you SHHH" "SHHH"
"Guys cut it out already!"
The sound of the elevator cut you off.
Everything stilled.
It wasn’t perfect timing. It never was. Someone knocked into something, a balloon squeaked sharply against the ceiling, John swore under his breath as one slipped out of his hands and shot across the room.
The door opened.
Bucky stepped inside like he always did, quiet, steady, shoulders a little tense out of habit.
For a second, he didn’t react at all. Just stood in the darkness.
Then-
“SUPRISE!”
His eyes moved over the room. his eyes moved over the room- the balloons. The banner that was slightly crooked. The record player, the music, the.. everything.
It came all at once, uneven and loud and completely uncoordinated, slightly Russian.
He froze.
Not dramatically. Just.... stopped. Like his body hadn’t quite caught up with what he was seeing yet.
There was a flicker of something across his face, his chest tightened in a way that was almost unfamiliar, a little like the feeling of stepping into a memory he didn’t think he was allowed to have anymore.
“Wait…. you-did you all-” His voice caught for a second. “You did all this..for me?”
The words sounded small, unsure, because he didn’t really know how to say the rest. How to put the lump in his throat into something intelligible. Whether he was ever deserving of this.
His eyes moved from face to face, lingering longer on you than anyone else. His lips curved in the faintest, almost hesitant smile.
“…I don’t know what to say,” he admitted brushing his hair back, covered with golden confetti, voice low, the softest smile on his face . “I didn’t think anyone- would do this.”
"I’m glad you did.”
John patted Bucky on the back, careful, almost stiff and a bit awkward, as if the simple gesture could steady him against whatever this feeling was. Ava stepped closer, brushing against him with a side hug that was quiet but grounding.
And then his eyes found yours.
Your hands tightened around the cake tray. Fingers brushed against the tray and confuting. Your shoulders pulled in, your chest tightening. You looked down for a moment, but his gaze didn’t leave you, tracing your movements as if the rest of the room didn’t exist.
His lips twitched. The faintest, softest curve, reserved, private, for no one but you. He took a careful step forward, eyes never leaving yours.
The cake sat between you for a heartbeat. The candles glimmered faintly in the warm light, and the faint crackle of the record player filled the tiny pause. You both didnt look away.
Alexei clapped his hands, interrupting the moment, booming over the chatter. "The Great Winter Soldier turns 109!”
Great way to ruin the moment Alexei.
Yelena groaned at her dad. “Do you have to announce it like that?”
Bucky blinked at the banner and the crooked balloons, then glanced down at the cake. His eyes flicked to the candles. A slow, incredulous frown tugged at his features. “Is that… what all the candles are for?”
Alexei didn’t wait for an answer, guilty look on his face. “Anyway! On to the Mai Tai!”
Bucky’s gaze shifted to you, soft but incredulous. “You made Alexei… make Mai Tais?”
You swallowed, cheeks heating. “Only the best… for you, Sergeant Barnes,” you said, voice just above a whisper, face completly red and suprised. "Thanks Doll"
John groaned in the corner “Oh god. Not again.”
Bucky’s smile tugging at his lips. He shook his head, a quiet laugh escaping him, but the way he looked at you, like the chaos around him didn’t matter at all- made it impossible to keep your own grin from spreading. Ava brought the wrapped records to Bucky. Yelena and Bob proudly told him how far she went to look for them, And you stood there, candlelight cake in front of him, while he watched every little motion, every small gesture, letting that private, soft smile linger only for you tonight.
GUYS i cant belive i finally managed to write this, i feel somewhat fullfilled idk if its that good, i felt like i repeated myself too much and there wasnt enough romance, but you know, i hope you like it, please let me know if you do, i wrote a small one a while a go- with the og avengers, so!! see ya.
Summary : As a new Avenger (2012 Avengers), you decide to give a gift to Steve, the Cap, who recruited you. Except... You forget that your gifts can burn.
Pairing : Steve Rogers x avenger!reader
W/c : idk maybe 3k
Warning tags : fluff, a little bit angsty, Black! reader, reader has powers like Wanda but can burn people too, comfort, soft intimacy, vague description of burning wounds. ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.
The first time Steve Rogers sees your powers up close, he thinks they look beautiful.
Not dangerous.
Not unnatural.
Beautiful.
Purple energy curls around your fingers like smoke kissed by starlight, glowing softly beneath the dim lights of the training room. It moves differently than other people's magic : less chaotic, more fluid. Like velvet dragged through water.
Everyone else in the room keeps their distance when your powers come out.
Steve notices that too.
The careful way agents step back.
The subtle tension in shoulders.
The way people look at your hands before they look at your face.
You pretend not to notice.
That’s the part that bothers him most.
“Again,” Natasha says from across the mat.
You exhale slowly.
A training bot flies toward you. Your hand lifts instinctively, purple light flashing brighter around your wrist before the machine freezes midair with a violent metallic groan.
Then,
Crack.
The entire bot crumples inward like crushed paper.
Tony whistles from the observation deck overhead.
“Remind me never to piss her off.”
You immediately lower your hands.
The glow disappears.
“So dramatic,” you mutter quietly.
Steve hides a smile.
You’ve only been living in Avengers Tower for three months, but he’s already learned your tells. The way you deflect discomfort with humor. The way you avoid eye contact after using too much power.
The way you curl inward whenever people look impressed instead of normal.
“You’re getting stronger,” Steve says.
Your gaze flickers toward him.
Something in your expression softens immediately.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
The smile you give him then is small.
Real.
And it hits Steve directly in the chest.
____________________________________________
The problem with Steve Rogers is that he makes kindness feel dangerous.
Not because he’s cruel.
Because he isn’t.
Because he remembers things.
He notices when you braid gold thread into your curls after missing home too much. Notices when you skip meals after rough missions. Notices you always hum old R&B songs under your breath while making tea late at night.
Nobody should pay that much attention to another person.
Especially not to you.
You learned a long time ago that people love power until it scares them.
And eventually,
It always scares them.
So you keep distance between yourself and everyone else in the tower.
Everyone except Steve.
Which is probably your first mistake.
The second mistake is the necklace.
You find it in a tiny shop in Brooklyn while wandering the city alone on a rainy afternoon.
Amethyst.
Deep purple.
The exact shade your powers become right before they bloom.
The old woman behind the counter smiles knowingly when you pick it up.
“Gift for somebody special?”
Heat floods your cheeks immediately.
“No.”
She hums like she doesn’t believe you.
You buy it anyway.
Back at the tower, you spend hours holding the crystal between your palms.
Purple light spills carefully through your fingers.
Tiny.
Controlled.
You press just enough energy into the stone for it to carry warmth. Comfort. Protection.
A piece of you.
Not enough to hurt anybody.
You make absolutely sure of that.
_____________________________________________
By the time you work up the courage to give it to Steve, it’s nearly midnight.
Most of the tower is asleep.
The common room glows softly with low lamps and the New York skyline beyond the windows.
Steve sits on the couch in gray sweats and a navy shirt, reading something that probably came from Fury.
He looks up immediately when you walk in.
And smiles.
God.
That smile should honestly count as psychological warfare.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
Your hands tighten around the small velvet box hidden behind your back.
Steve notices instantly.
“What’ve you got there?”
You suddenly consider turning around and fleeing.
Unfortunately, Steve Rogers has apparently developed the ability to read your soul.
His smile grows softer.
“Is that for me?”
You groan quietly. “I hate how observant you are.”
“That’s a yes then.”
You walk over before your nerves can stop you.
“I just…” You shrug awkwardly. “You recruited me. And you’ve been really patient with me. So.”
Steve takes the box carefully.
His expression already looks touched before he’s even opened it.
You might actually pass out.
“You didn’t have to get me anything.”
“I know.”
He opens the lid slowly.
The amethyst catches the light instantly.
Purple glimmers dance across the walls.
Steve goes quiet.
“It’s beautiful,” he says softly.
Relief rushes through you so hard your knees nearly weaken.
“You really think so?”
“Yeah.” His thumb brushes carefully over the crystal. “Feels warm.”
Your stomach drops.
Warm.
Right.
You should probably explain,
But Steve looks up at you then with that unbearably gentle expression and your thoughts derail completely.
“You picked this out for me?”
“Well, obviously not for Thor.”
Steve laughs softly.
The sound settles somewhere deep inside your ribs.
Then he lifts the necklace from the box.
And the second the crystal touches his skin—
Everything goes wrong.
Steve jerks sharply.
The necklace drops from his fingers.
Purple light flashes violently.
And suddenly the room smells like burning fabric.
Your heart stops.
Steve stumbles backward with a strangled inhale, clutching at his chest.
“Steve—”
The crystal hits the floor.
Cracks.
Energy bursts outward in jagged purple waves.
You feel your own power react instinctively.
Too emotional.
Too frightened.
“Move!” you gasp.
But Steve is already burning.
Not flames.
Not exactly.
The energy sears through his skin in glowing violet fractures beneath his collarbone.
His face twists in pain.
And the sound he makes—
You will hear it in nightmares for the rest of your life.
“No no no no—”
Your powers erupt around you instinctively.
Purple light floods the room.
Glass rattles.
Furniture lifts violently off the floor.
Steve looks up despite the pain immediately.
“Hey,” he grits out. “Look at me.”
But you can’t breathe.
You hurt him.
You hurt Steve.
“I didn’t mean to—”
The elevator doors slam open.
Tony.
Natasha.
Bruce.
Chaos follows immediately afterward.
“What happened?”
“Jesus Christ—”
Bruce kneels beside Steve instantly while Natasha grabs the glowing necklace carefully with insulated gloves from somewhere you didn’t even see her get.
You can’t move.
Your hands shake violently.
Steve’s shirt is burned through near his chest now, angry violet marks spreading beneath the skin like lightning veins.
And it’s your fault.
Your fault.
Your fault.
You back away so quickly you nearly trip.
“I didn’t know it would do that,” you whisper.
Nobody answers immediately.
That silence destroys you faster than screaming could.
Bruce looks up finally.
“We need medical.”
You’re already leaving before anybody can stop you.
_____________________________________________
You lock yourself in your room.
Then you cry so hard it physically hurts.
Purple light flickers uncontrollably beneath your skin, dimming and surging with every shaking breath. Objects tremble around the room in response to your emotions.
You don’t even try stopping it anymore.
Because this is exactly what everybody was afraid of.
Exactly.
A weapon pretending to be a person long enough to make people comfortable.
You slide down the wall beside your bed and bury your face in your arms.
Your grandmother used to tell you your powers reflected your heart.
Tonight they feel rotten.
A knock comes at your door around an hour later.
You don’t answer.
Another knock.
Gentler.
“Hey.”
Steve.
Your chest caves in immediately.
“Go away.”
Silence.
Then:
“No.”
You laugh weakly through tears.
Of course he says no.
“Steve, please.”
“You gonna make me stand out here all night?”
“You should be in medical.”
“Probably.”
You squeeze your eyes shut.
He sounds tired.
You hate yourself for noticing.
“I hurt you.”
“You didn’t mean to.”
“But I still did it.”
The words come out broken.
Quiet settles between you both.
Then the door handle turns slowly.
You forgot to lock it with your powers.
Steve steps inside carefully.
And your breath catches immediately.
There’s gauze visible above the collar of his clean black shirt. Faint traces of healing burns disappear beneath the fabric.
Not fully healed yet.
Because of you.
Your eyes sting instantly.
Steve closes the door behind himself.
“You shouldn’t be near me,” you whisper.
He looks almost offended.
“Why?”
“Because I burned you!”
“You gave me a necklace.”
Your voice cracks. “Steve.”
“And it backfired.”
“You were in pain.”
“Yeah.” He steps closer carefully. “I’ve been in pain before.”
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
You stare at him helplessly.
He should be angry.
Should be careful now.
Should look at you differently.
Instead he just looks worried.
About you.
Which somehow makes it worse.
“You were crying,” he says softly.
Heat rushes painfully into your face.
“I’m fine.”
“Liar.”
Your lips tremble.
Steve sighs quietly before sitting beside you against the wall.
Close.
Not touching yet.
Just close enough to feel warm.
“You know what Bruce said?”
You shake your head slowly.
“He said the energy in the crystal reacted to me specifically.”
You blink.
“What?”
“He thinks your powers recognized emotional attachment and overloaded.” Steve glances toward you carefully. “Basically your gift panicked because you care about me.”
Mortification consumes you instantly.
“Oh my God.”
Steve actually laughs.
A real laugh.
You stare at him in disbelief.
“You almost died!”
“Didn’t die.”
“You were literally smoking.”
“That’s dramatic.”
“You were smoking, Steve!”
He laughs harder this time, and despite yourself, a tiny smile breaks through your misery.
It disappears quickly.
“I still hurt you.”
Steve’s expression softens immediately.
“Come here.”
You freeze.
“What?”
“Come here.”
Slowly, hesitantly, you move closer.
Steve reaches for your hand.
You panic instantly.
“No, don’t—”
But he takes it anyway.
Warm fingers sliding carefully through yours.
No fear.
No hesitation.
Your powers flicker instinctively beneath your skin.
Purple light glows faintly around your joined hands.
Steve doesn’t let go.
“I’m okay,” he says quietly.
Your throat tightens painfully.
“The serum heals fast. Burns are already closing.”
“But I caused them.”
“You know what I think?”
You shake your head.
“I think you’ve spent your whole life believing accidents make you unlovable.”
The word hits you like a physical blow.
Lovable.
Your eyes burn again immediately.
Steve’s thumb brushes softly across your knuckles.
“You don’t have to look so scared around me.”
“I could’ve killed you.”
“But you didn’t.”
“What if next time—”
“There doesn’t have to be a next time.”
You stare at him.
Steve leans back against the wall beside you, still holding your hand.
“You know what the real problem was?”
“The cursed death necklace?”
“That you tried carrying all that power alone.”
Your laugh comes out watery.
“That sounds fake deep.”
“It sounded better in my head.”
You finally smile again.
Steve watches it happen carefully like something precious unfolding.
Then his expression gentles further.
“You made me something with your powers because you trusted me with them.”
Your chest aches.
“Nobody’s ever done that before.”
You look down quickly.
“You still shouldn’t have gotten hurt.”
Steve shifts closer.
Close enough now that your shoulder brushes his.
“You know,” he murmurs softly, “I think the necklace is still my favorite gift anybody’s ever given me.”
You stare at him like he’s insane.
“It tried to barbecue you.”
“Still thoughtful.”
A helpless laugh escapes you.
And suddenly Steve’s hand lifts carefully toward your face.
Slow enough for you to stop him.
You don’t.
His fingers brush beneath your eye gently, wiping away the last traces of tears.
“You’re okay,” he says quietly.
The words nearly break you.
Not you didn’t mean it.
Not calm down.
Not be careful.
You’re okay.
Like he’s talking to you instead of your powers.
Like he sees a person first.
You lean into his touch before realizing you’re doing it.
Steve’s breathing catches softly.
Purple light flickers dimly beneath your skin again.
But this time it doesn’t feel violent.
Just warm.
Alive.
Steve notices too.
“See?” he murmurs. “That’s better already.”
You shake your head weakly. “You’re ridiculously calm about this.”
“Well.” His mouth curves slightly. “Guess I trust you.”
The confession settles deep in your chest.
Dangerously deep.
You look at the gauze peeking from beneath his collar again.
Guilt twists through you immediately.
Steve notices.
Without another word, he gently takes your hand and places it against the uninjured side of his chest.
Strong heartbeat beneath your palm.
Steady.
Alive.
“You didn’t lose me,” he says softly.
Your eyes close briefly.
The warmth beneath your hand spreads upward into your throat, your ribs, everywhere.
Steve’s voice drops quieter.
“And you don’t have to be scared of being loved badly forever.”
Your breath catches sharply.
Because that’s it, isn’t it?
The real fear.
Not hurting people.
Being impossible to keep once you do.
But Steve just sits beside you in the quiet tower room, hand wrapped around yours like he plans on staying there.
Like burn marks and power surges and fear aren’t enough to make him leave.
For the first time in a very long time,
Your powers stop feeling like something cursed.
And when Steve leans his forehead gently against yours, smiling soft and tired and warm despite everything,
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ᯓ★ TW(s): stupid rumors go around because Tony is famous, not really anything serious
ᯓ★ Timeline: before the Avengers were formed
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In this world, the soulmate bond manifests in the form of tattoos, inscribed on skin at the moment when you first meet your destined person. Not just any tattoo—it's the first thought they had when they saw you. A sentence or a phrase etched in permanent ink, completely out of your control, tied to the moment your eyes meet.
You've always found the idea romantic in theory, but after your mark appeared, you're a little less enthused. The thought branded on your wrist is definitely not the stuff of fairy tales.
I wonder if she knows she has a ketchup stain on her shirt.
It's funny, sure, but you can’t help but cringe every time you think about it. What kind of first impression did you make that day? You don't even know who your soulmate is, just that somewhere, out there, someone’s first impression of you was that you were a mess. It’s become a running joke among your friends, something you laugh off, but in the back of your mind, you can’t shake the feeling that when you finally meet them, it’s going to be awkward.
For years, you've searched crowds, looked at strangers’ tattoos, hoping to catch a glimpse of something that might give you a clue. No luck. Life moves on, and you stop looking quite so actively, focusing on your own career instead. After all, it’s not like you can control when or how you meet your soulmate. It'll happen when it happens.
But it does happen.
You’re at a charity gala in New York, your company hosting a benefit for technological innovations in renewable energy. As someone involved in the development sector, it's part of your job to represent the company, socialize, and network. That’s how you end up near the bar, scanning the room for anyone who looks like a potential business connection.
And that’s when you see him.
Tony Stark.
He’s hard to miss, obviously. Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, Avenger, and all-around larger-than-life personality. You’ve seen him on TV and in interviews, but there’s something different about seeing him in person. He’s wearing a perfectly tailored suit, drink in hand, looking amused by something someone just said.
Your first thought?
Huh, he’s taller than I thought.
Then, just as quickly, God, how does his suit fit that well?
You’re about to turn away and rejoin the group when, out of the corner of your eye, you see him glance in your direction. And then he starts walking right toward you.
Your heart leaps to your throat as you quickly glance down at yourself, suddenly self-conscious. Is there something on your face? Hair out of place? Ketchup stain?
“Hi,” Tony says, stopping in front of you, looking at you with a smirk. "You look like you're about to sprint off somewhere."
Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out for a second. You're so stunned that Tony Stark is standing right in front of you, speaking to you like you're someone worth noticing.
“Uh—hi. No, just… thinking,” you manage to say, your voice sounding much calmer than you feel.
He raises an eyebrow, amused. "Well, careful with all that thinking. Could lead to dangerous places."
You can’t help but laugh. It’s a stupid joke, but it lightens the mood, easing some of your nerves. Tony Stark is surprisingly… not intimidating? Maybe it's the easy confidence, the humor that makes him feel less untouchable.
“You’re here for the renewable energy thing, right?” Tony asks, leaning casually against the bar. “What do you do?”
You quickly tell him about your work, grateful that you're able to form coherent sentences again. The conversation flows surprisingly naturally, and before long, you’re actually enjoying yourself.
“So,” Tony says, eyes gleaming as he takes a sip of his drink. “Soulmate tattoo. What’s yours?”
You blink, surprised by the sudden question. You hadn’t expected the conversation to go there so quickly.
"Uh, well…" You hesitate for a moment, but then you figure, why not? It’s not like he’s going to see it. “It's… kind of embarrassing, actually.”
“Oh, those are the best kinds. Now you have to tell me,” he grins, leaning in with mock curiosity.
You laugh again and hold up your wrist, showing him the words you’ve grown so familiar with.
“I wonder if she knows she has a ketchup stain on her shirt,” you say, reading it out loud for him.
Tony bursts out laughing, a genuine laugh that lights up his entire face. “Wow. That’s… that’s actually amazing.”
“Yeah, well, I try not to think about it too much,” you reply with a self-deprecating smile.
Tony’s laughter dies down, but the smile lingers. "You never know. Could make for a great story when you meet them."
“Maybe,” you say with a shrug. “What about you? What's your tattoo?”
Tony hesitates, something almost unreadable flickering across his face. For a split second, he looks vulnerable, which is strange to see on someone like him. Then he smirks again, the mask of confidence snapping back into place.
“Oh, mine’s ridiculous,” he says, holding out his wrist.
You glance down at his tattoo and freeze.
Huh, he’s taller than I thought.
Your brain takes a moment to catch up. It’s your first thought. Your words. The exact thing you thought the moment you saw him across the room.
Your heart starts pounding. “Wait, this is…”
Tony looks at you, his expression shifting from playful to serious in an instant. “Yeah. Looks like we’ve got a match.”
You stare at him, speechless, as the weight of the realization sinks in. Tony Stark is your soulmate.
“I—I don’t understand,” you stammer. “When did you…”
“When did I think you had a ketchup stain?” he finishes for you with a wry smile. “About five years ago. Tech conference in Palo Alto. You walked in with a coffee in one hand and a sandwich in the other. And, well… you had a ketchup stain on your shirt.”
You blink, the memory slowly coming back to you. You remember that conference. You remember spilling ketchup on your shirt. But what you don’t remember is Tony Stark being there.
He watches you closely, almost like he’s waiting for something. “I didn’t think you’d ever find out,” he says softly.
“I—" You look up at him, everything finally clicking into place. "I can’t believe this.”
Tony shrugs, but there’s something tender in the way he looks at you now. “Believe it, sweetheart. Looks like we’ve got ourselves a story.”
You take a moment to process what just happened, your mind racing. You never imagined meeting your soulmate would be like this, in a crowded gala surrounded by the elite, and especially not with Tony Stark.
“So…” you say, trying to regain your composure. “This is kind of a big deal, right? I mean, we’re soulmates and all.”
“Big deal? That’s an understatement,” he replies with a playful smirk, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “But you have to admit, the ketchup stain part is pretty entertaining.”
You laugh, the tension easing slightly. “Yeah, it really is. I suppose it could’ve been worse. At least you didn’t think I was a complete disaster when you first saw me.”
Tony grins, tilting his head slightly. “I’ve seen worse. And I’m pretty sure I was the one who looked like a disaster when we first met. You, on the other hand, were effortlessly charming.”
Your cheeks flush at the compliment. “Effortlessly charming? You must be joking.”
“Nope.” He leans closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “You had a coffee in one hand and a sandwich in the other and you still managed to look amazing. That’s not something everyone can pull off.”
You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile creeping onto your face. “I appreciate that. But what are we supposed to do now? I mean, how does this whole soulmate thing work?”
Tony leans back against the bar, his expression turning thoughtful. “Well, there’s no manual for this kind of thing. But I guess we could start with getting to know each other better.” He gestures to the gala around you, where people are mingling and enjoying themselves. “Want to escape this place for a bit? I know a great rooftop view.”
Your heart races at the thought of spending more time alone with him. “Are you sure? Won’t people wonder where you’ve gone?”
“I’m sure they’ll be just fine without me for a little while,” he says with a wave of his hand. “Besides, I’m sure they’re all busy trying to impress each other. And I’d much rather be up there with you.” He grins, and the sincerity in his eyes makes you want to take a chance.
“Okay,” you agree, surprising even yourself. “Let’s go.”
You follow Tony through the crowded room, weaving between groups of people, past waiters carrying trays of hors d'oeuvres, and up a set of sleek glass elevators. The ride is quick, and your stomach flutters with anticipation. You can’t believe you’re about to spend more time with him—your soulmate.
When the doors slide open, you step out onto the rooftop, greeted by the cool night air and a stunning view of the city skyline. The stars twinkle overhead, and the lights of New York stretch out like a sea of diamonds.
Tony leads you to the edge, and you lean against the railing, taking in the breathtaking scene. The city buzzes below, alive and vibrant, and for a moment, everything feels perfect.
“Wow,” you breathe, trying to catch your breath. “This is beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as you,” he says without missing a beat. His tone is playful, but the way he looks at you is serious, intense even.
Your heart skips a beat. “You’re really laying it on thick, aren’t you?”
“Only when it’s true,” he replies, moving a bit closer, so you can feel the warmth radiating off him. “It’s crazy to think we’ve been living in the same world for years and didn’t even know. I mean, the odds of us meeting here, of all places, are wild.”
“Yeah, it is,” you agree, your voice barely above a whisper. “I guess I always thought when I met my soulmate, it would be all fireworks and fate and romance.”
He chuckles softly. “And here we are, talking about ketchup stains and fancy suits. Very romantic.”
You smile at that. “It has its charm, I suppose.”
Tony turns to face you, his expression shifting to something more serious. “So, what do you want to know about me? I mean, besides the obvious—that I’m a genius billionaire superhero.”
You can’t help but laugh again. “Okay, let’s skip the superhero part. What’s something about you that no one else knows?”
He thinks for a moment, and you can see the wheels turning in his head. “I’ll give you a fun one. I have a massive fear of failing. It’s part of why I push myself so hard. If I’m not the best, then what am I?”
You blink in surprise. “Really? I would have never guessed that. You always seem so confident, so in control.”
“That’s the façade,” he admits, looking out over the city again. “Most people don’t see the doubts that keep me up at night.”
“Wow. Thanks for sharing that with me,” you say softly. “It’s refreshing to hear something real.”
“Your turn,” he insists, turning to face you again. “What about you? What’s something that keeps you up at night?”
You take a breath, the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you. “I worry that I won’t ever be enough. That I’ll never make the impact I want to make in the world. It feels like I’m always chasing something, you know?”
Tony nods, his expression understanding. “Yeah, I get that. But you’re doing something amazing. You’re involved in renewable energy. That’s huge.”
“I suppose,” you say, a little shyly. “But I still feel like I could be doing more. I just want to make a difference.”
“You already are,” he says, his voice steady. “And now you’re my soulmate, which is a pretty big deal in itself. We can make a difference together.”
Your heart swells at the thought. “Together, huh?”
“Yeah. Together,” he repeats, stepping a little closer. “I don’t know what the future holds, but I think we could figure it out. What do you say?”
You look into his eyes, and it’s as if the world around you fades away. It’s just you and him, standing on a rooftop overlooking the city, two souls destined to find each other. “I’d like that.”
“Good,” he says, a smile breaking across his face. “Because I definitely plan to keep you around.”
With that, he leans in, closing the distance between you, and for a moment, everything else fades away as your lips meet. It’s gentle at first, exploratory, but then deepens as the realization hits that you’re sharing this moment with your soulmate. The world is electric, and you feel the connection between you ignite.
When you finally pull away, breathless, you know this is only the beginning. There’s so much more to explore, to learn, and to discover together.
“Wow,” you breathe, your heart racing. “That was…”
“Yeah,” he interrupts, a teasing grin back on his face. “I know. Better than a ketchup stain, right?”
You can’t help but burst into laughter, shaking your head. “Okay, I’ll give you that one.”
And in that moment, as you stand together on the rooftop, laughter spilling into the night air, you realize that this was only the start of your incredible journey together. Soulmates, destined to make each other’s lives a little more colorful, ketchup stains and all.
For the next few weeks, life is a whirlwind. After that rooftop moment with Tony, things between you and him move fast but not in the way you expected. You see each other regularly, grabbing dinners, texting late at night, meeting up when you can. The chemistry is undeniable, and every time you're together, it feels like there's something bigger building between you two. But Tony's life is complicated. It comes with a lot of attention, and soon, the press starts to notice.
It begins with whispers, rumors on social media. Photos of you two at events surface, and the internet goes wild, speculating about who you are, what your relationship with Tony is, and, most importantly, whether you’re his new girlfriend or just another passing fling.
At first, it’s just gossip. But then it escalates.
One morning, you wake up to your phone buzzing uncontrollably. Texts, emails, and missed calls flood your notifications. You sit up in bed, confused, before your eyes land on one of the headlines plastered across your phone screen:
"Tony Stark’s New Mystery Woman: Another One in a Long Line of Flings?"
Your stomach drops. Another headline follows:
“Who is Y/N L/N? Stark’s Latest 'Arm Candy' or Something More?”
The articles are brutal. Some of them dig into your personal life, questioning your background, even speculating that you might be using Tony to further your career. Others call you names you can’t even bear to read. Worse, they paint Tony as a playboy who moves from one woman to the next, suggesting that you’re just the flavor of the month.
You throw your phone down on the bed, your hands shaking. How did it escalate so fast? It was just a few dinners, a couple of public appearances. You didn’t ask for this.
Later that day, you sit at a café, your mind buzzing with everything you’ve read. You're sipping your coffee when Tony shows up, his presence always commanding, but today there's something different in the air. He sits down across from you, the usual playful spark in his eyes replaced with concern.
"You're upset," he says simply, cutting right to the point.
You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Have you seen the headlines?"
Tony leans back, crossing his arms. "Yeah, I saw them. Look, this happens sometimes. People like to talk, especially when they don't know what's going on. You just have to ignore it."
“Ignore it?” You stare at him in disbelief. “Tony, they’re tearing me apart online. They’re acting like I’m some… some gold-digger who's using you, or worse, just a fling in your long history of flings."
His jaw tightens, and you can see the frustration building behind his calm exterior. "You know that’s not true. I know that’s not true. Who cares what some gossip sites say?"
“I care! I’m not used to this, Tony. This isn’t my world! I didn’t ask to have my life dragged through the mud because of who I’m spending time with.”
He reaches across the table and takes your hand, his thumb rubbing gently over your knuckles. "I know this is hard. But people are always going to talk. I’ve been dealing with this for years. It sucks, but it doesn’t last forever."
You pull your hand back, frustration bubbling up. "But it’s different for you. You’ve been in the spotlight your whole life. People expect this from you. For me, it’s… humiliating. My colleagues are seeing these headlines. My family. Do you know how embarrassing it is to be called a fling? To be dismissed like I don’t matter?"
Tony exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. "I’m not dismissing you. I never would."
"It’s not about you dismissing me. It’s about everyone else thinking that’s what’s happening." You bite your lip, looking down at your coffee cup. "I just… I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this. The attention, the gossip. I wasn’t prepared for any of it."
“I can’t make the headlines go away,” Tony says softly. “But I can stand by you through them. If this is too much for you, I’ll understand. But if you want to stay, if you want to try… I’m not going anywhere."
There’s an honesty in his eyes that makes your breath catch. You can see the vulnerability there, the rawness he’s trying to share with you. Tony Stark, the man who is larger than life, standing before you and offering something real.
You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the decision you’re about to make. "I don’t want to walk away from this, Tony. I just… I need to know that you’re in this for real. No games, no casual flings. If we’re doing this, it has to be serious."
“It is,” he says immediately, no hesitation. “I’m in this for real, Y/N. No games. No flings."
The sincerity in his voice melts some of the fear inside you. You nod slowly, your shoulders relaxing just a bit. "Okay. Then… let’s do this."
A smile spreads across his face, that familiar Stark confidence returning. "Good. Because I wasn’t planning on letting you go that easily."
You smile back, feeling some of the tension lift. For the first time in days, you feel like maybe, just maybe, this could work.
But as soon as you begin to relax, your phone vibrates again. You glance at the screen, and your stomach tightens as you see another headline flash across the notification:
"EXCLUSIVE: Sources Claim Stark’s ‘Soulmate’ is After His Fortune—Friends Warn He’s Being Played."
You feel the blood drain from your face. Tony’s brow furrows as he notices the change in your expression.
“What is it?” he asks, but before you can answer, his phone buzzes, too. He pulls it out, glancing at the screen before cursing under his breath.
“I’ll handle this,” he says quickly, anger flashing in his eyes. “This is just some idiot trying to stir up trouble. I’ll talk to the press. I’ll clear this up.”
But it doesn’t feel like it’s just gossip anymore. It feels personal, and it feels like whoever is behind this wants to tear you apart.
“Tony…” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. “What if this doesn’t stop? What if this just keeps getting worse?”
His jaw tightens, and he steps closer to you, determination hardening his gaze. “I told you, I’m not letting this come between us. Whoever’s behind this, we’ll deal with it. Together.”
Tony doesn’t waste any time. The moment he sees the new headline, he’s in action mode. His jaw clenches, and his eyes narrow with determination. He’s dealt with attacks like this before, but this time, it’s personal—and he’s not going to let someone mess with what the two of you have.
“We need to find out who’s feeding these stories to the press,” he says, already typing away on his phone. “There’s no way this is just random gossip. Someone’s deliberately trying to stir things up.”
You sit there, still shaken by the headlines, but his confidence is a bit reassuring. “How do we even start? I mean, the media… they don’t just reveal their sources, do they?”
“They don’t. But I have people. We’ll find out who’s behind this.”
Over the next few days, Tony taps into every resource he has, which, unsurprisingly, is a lot. He calls in favors from friends in the media, tech experts, and even digs into security footage from recent events you’ve attended together. The digging takes time, and while Tony handles most of the legwork, you can see the toll it’s taking on him. His usual carefree attitude fades into something more serious. He’s laser-focused on protecting you, and it makes your heart ache to see how much he’s willing to fight for you.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Tony gets a lead.
“Got it,” he announces one night, barging into your apartment with a determined look on his face. “It’s someone on the board at Stark Industries. A guy named Victor Lanning.”
“Victor Lanning?” you ask, the name unfamiliar to you.
Tony nods, his expression darkening. “He’s been pushing for more influence within the company, and apparently, he didn’t like that I’ve been ‘distracted’ with personal matters lately. Decided to use our relationship to try and weaken me publicly. Classic power move.”
You blink, trying to process what he’s saying. “So, this was all about business? About him trying to make you look bad so he could… what? Get your job?”
Tony sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Something like that. He figured if he made me look like I wasn’t focused, the board would start questioning my leadership. And what better way to make me look distracted than to spin it like you’re using me? It’s a dirty move, but it’s not the first time someone’s tried to pull something like this.”
Your stomach churns with a mixture of anger and disgust. “All of this because I’m your soulmate? Because he thinks I’m a distraction?”
Tony steps closer, his hand finding yours. “He doesn’t matter. What matters is that we’re going to set the record straight. I’ll deal with him. But first, we need to clear your name.”
You nod, feeling a spark of hope. “What do we do?”
Tony smirks, that familiar glint of mischief back in his eyes. “We go public. Officially.”
The next morning, the press conference is set. Tony’s team works fast, organizing everything within hours. You’re nervous as you stand beside him backstage, waiting for your cue. Tony notices your fidgeting and gently takes your hand, squeezing it reassuringly.
“Hey,” he whispers, leaning in close. “You’ve got this. We’ve got this.”
You nod, feeling a little steadier with him by your side.
Finally, it’s time. The two of you walk out to the flashing lights of cameras and a sea of reporters, their voices buzzing with curiosity. Tony stands tall, confident, as always, but there's a gentleness in the way he holds your hand.
“Thank you all for coming,” Tony begins, his voice firm yet calm. “I wanted to address some recent rumors about my personal life. It’s no secret that I’ve been in the headlines recently, and a lot of the things being said are completely false. Someone from my company decided to spread lies because they didn’t like the fact that I’ve been spending time with Y/N. But the truth is, she’s the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. And if people want to attack her to get to me, well, I’m not going to let that happen."
You glance at him, and he gives you an encouraging nod before continuing.
“But more importantly, I want to clear up something that actually matters,” Tony says, his tone softening. “The woman standing beside me, Y/N L/N, is not just some ‘fling’ or ‘arm candy.’ She’s... well, she’s my soulmate.”
A wave of murmurs spreads through the crowd, but Tony keeps going, his eyes steady on yours. “Yeah, you heard that right. We’ve got the tattoos to prove it.”
The reporters lean forward, the flashes of cameras intensifying as you and Tony raise your wrists, showing your matching tattoos. There, in plain sight, are the words that started it all. Your tattoo reads: "I wonder if she knows she has a ketchup stain on her shirt." and his reads: "Huh, he’s taller than I thought."
The room falls quiet for a moment, the weight of the reveal sinking in. Then, slowly, Tony speaks again, his voice quieter but more intimate, as if he’s speaking just to you, even though everyone can hear.
“The first time I saw her, I wasn’t thinking about business or my reputation or anything else. I was just thinking about how she had this charming, messy moment, and it made me smile. She was real. And that’s the thing: Y/N makes me feel like I can be real, too.”
Your heart swells at his words, and you can’t help but smile.
The room erupts in questions, but Tony raises a hand to quiet them down. "That’s all we wanted to say. The rumors? Ignore them. The truth? It’s right here."
He turns to you, his eyes soft, and in that moment, it feels like it’s just the two of you again. “So, are we done with the press?” he asks, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a playful grin.
You laugh, relieved, and nod. “Definitely.”
As you walk off the stage, hand in hand, you feel a weight lift off your shoulders. The truth is out there now, and it’s your truth. No more hiding, no more rumors.
Once you’re out of sight from the cameras, Tony pulls you into a gentle hug, his lips brushing against your temple. “Told you we’d get through this.”
You wrap your arms around him, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. “I know. I’m just glad it’s over.”
He pulls back slightly, his eyes locking with yours, a soft smile on his face. “It’s not over. This is just the beginning.”
And in that moment, you know he’s right. Together, you’ve faced the storm, and now, with the world finally knowing the truth, you can move forward. Together, as soulmates.
“Oh.” You breathed out once you saw Joaquin Torres return home, eyes scanning his figure.
It wasn’t often you saw him in his uniform, but anytime you did you had to admit your mind turned to mush. Could anyone really blame you, though? Joaquin was attractive in any outfit, but a man in uniform just stirred something deep inside of you.
“What?” He asked with narrowed eyes, looking down at himself. “Something on me?”
You cleared your throat, crossing your arms over your chest as you shifted your weight on your feet. “No, uh- no, no.”
“Then, what?” He asked, placing his bag down on coffee table in your living room. “You knew I was coming back.”
“Well, yeah-” you looked down at the floor for a moment, looking back up at him in time to see the grin plastered on his face. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“You like it.” He mused, taking long strides until his hands were close enough to wrap around your waist, pulling you close to him.
You shrugged, trying to play it off. “Well, I don’t hate it.”
He laughed out, his lips attacking your neck with kisses. “Yeah? I’m sure that’s code for something, c’ere.”
You squealed out a laugh as he managed to picked you up, taking you to the living room and placing you on the couch.
“Did you miss me?” He asked with a hum, nose brushing against yours.
You tutted faintly, arms wrapping around his neck, making it only a few inches of space between your face. “Of course. Gotta say I miss this look.”
“More than you missed me?” Joaquin asked with a raised eyebrow.
You thought for a few moments before smirking up at him, you didn’t say a word but he knew exactly what you were saying with the expression alone.
“Okay. Don’t answer that.”
You laughed out, pulling him into a slow kiss that he reciprocated. He let out a low hum into his, a hand moving to cup your face.
“You reckon you could keep that on a little longer?” You muttered against his lips.
He pulled back a little bit, staring at you with a playful smile. He chuckled a moment before pulling away fully, taking you up with him.
“Didn’t know you had such a thing for me in uniform.” He said, leading you upstairs.
