vanillaadots.

Rook 🏹

Vil 👑

In a world where the weak could only dream of dethroning the strong, and the strong overshadowing the weak; Grim was only meant to be a mere speck of dirt in the vast lands of the world, but for reasons unknown to him, you decided that the same speck of dirt is nothing but a gem in the making. A great mage in the making, to be exact. 

So, Grim decided that maybe you were worth keeping by his side. If only to have someone who would listen so attentively to his ramblings about being the best, to have someone he could share warmth with when the nights grow too cold, and lastly, to have someone he could finally consider as one of his own—a family. (though you’d never catch him saying something so corny, he’s going to become the greatest afterall!)

“Hench-human! The Great Grim has decided, you can stay by my side even if you’re weaker than me, myahahaha!”

“Is that so?” You dusted off the bed, sparing a glance at the lounging creature near you, “If the Great Grim so desires, then I shall be your ‘hench-human’ forever ‘till you get tired of lil ol’ me.” 

“Myah! Ya better be! Or else I’ll cast one of my powerful spells on ya!” 

“Yes, yes,” You nodded your head repeatedly, “this pitiful hench-human understands. Now, shall the Great Grim lay down to take his oh-so-precious sleep?”  You patted the bed and leaned to the side as Grim leaped on the bed. 

“...Are you happy, Grim?” 

“Mrah! What kind of question is that? ‘Course I am! I’m getting stronger now!” You smiled, a one so soft and affectionate just like the look in your eyes that made Grim pause. Your hand petting his head slowly made him snap out of it, normally, he’d reprimand you for it, but.. at the moment, Grim can feel himself getting drowsy as his eyes get heavier.

“I’m glad you are, because I am too.” 

Grim remembers it so clear, that was the last thing he heard before his eyes shut close and his mind went to dream land. You said you were happy, you told him that you’d be by his side. You promised, you said that promises aren’t meant to be broken—that they’re sacred things between people. 

So, why did you leave?  

Was he so annoying that you’d up and leave him the moment you got the chance to go back to your world, a world where your real family resides. (but wasn’t he your family too?)

Grim only remembers how chaotic his insides felt. He wanted to lash out to you, to everyone who abused your kindness—your softness. He couldn't, though, your last words to him before you left, he had to engrave it into his stubborn heart. 

“You’re a big boy now, Grim…and sometimes, the greatest need to stand on their own.” You slide your hand over his head, “will you do that for me, Great Grim?” 

He nodded, the only response he could make. Grim felt as if Floyd had dropped him in the freezing pool that the Octavinelle dorm has. 

“Thank you, Grim.”

A kiss to the forehead was your last goodbye to him. He wanted to chase after you, to yell at you that his hench-human can’t abandon him. But, your words echoed through the chaos within. He’ll have to suck it all up, to act brave just like before, and pretend that your departure wasn’t making his eyes teary. Still, a few drops escaped out of his eyes but your back only grew smaller, your hand won’t be wiping away the tears anymore. So, he’ll deal with it.

He’s a big boy now, after all.

"I can put a list together tonight," Natasha says, from across the table. She says it the way she says most things, which is without looking up, like it's already decided. "The team lead on their east coast division trained under Kovač. Technically excellent. A little rigid, but you'll manage."

"You know their team lead?"

"I know most people."

"Thank you. Both of you. That's —"

"That's three months," Tony says.

The table turns, as Tony has put his phone down. That should’ve been the first sign of disaster.

"Three months with a — what did you say, firm—"

"Meridian, yes —"

"Never heard of them."

"You've heard of them," Bruce says mildly. "They did the DOD infrastructure audit in 2019."

"I choose not to have heard of them," Tony says. "Here's what I'm offering: full lab access, your own project, no supervision unless you want it, and—" he pauses for what you can tell is a dramatic effect, "—four hundred a week."

You stare at him. "Tony —"

"Five hundred."

"I haven't said anything —"

"The face you made said something. Six fifty, and I'll throw in the good coffee. Not the compound coffee. My coffee."

"Steven," Thor says.

Steve doesn't respond. He's been quiet since the word placement left your mouth. The quality of his quiet has been getting heavier and it’s started to affect the atmospheric pressure of the room.

"Steven," Thor says again, gentler.

"I heard her," Steve says. He has both hands flat on the table. He's looking at his plate. He has not touched his plate.

"It is only three months," Thor offers. He means it kindly, but it lands like a eulogy. "A short time. A blink. I have waited longer for ships." A pause. "Though the ships came back." He frowns. "Most of them."

Steve closes his eyes.

"Thor," Sam says.

"I am helping," Thor says.

"I think," Sam says, turning to you with the careful tone of a man building a bridge over active water, "that this is a genuinely good opportunity and you should absolutely pursue it."

You exhale. "Thank you —"

"I also think," he continues, "and I'm just raising this, I'm not making it a thing, I'm just raising it —" he pauses. "Did you look at other options?"

"Sam —"

"Before you applied, were there other options on the table?"

"It's a competitive placement, there wasn't exactly a —"

"Were we an option?" he says. "On the table, that you looked at and considered and then decided against."

"You can't be an option, you're not a —"

"We have infrastructure," he says, gesturing broadly at the compound around them. "We have resources, we have personnel —"

"Eight fifty," Tony says.

"— we have a training programme," Sam continues, "that Natasha and Steve spent —"

"Forty hours," Natasha says.

"Forty hours building, and I just want to know, academically, whether that came up at any point during your decision-making process."

"It's not that kind of decision —"

"Were we on the list?" he says, very evenly.

The table awaits the grand conclusion.

"...there wasn't a list."

Sam leans back in his chair, and just looks at his plate. "Okay," he says.

Steve makes a sound, that wasn’t exactly a word.

More like the sound a man makes when he's been doing quiet maths and has arrived at an answer he doesn't like. Everyone at the table hears it. Nobody addresses it directly; nobody wants to be the one to open that particular door.

You look at him.

He has moved from hands-flat-on-table to one hand over his mouth, elbow on the table. He was staring at the middle distance with the expression of a man conducting a full internal audit of every decision he's made in the last eight months.

"Steve," you say carefully. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," he says, into his hand.

"You don't look —"

"I'm just thinking."

"About what?"

A pause.

"About whether I've been a good captain," he says, simply, and the simplicity of it is somehow worse than if he'd said it dramatically. There's no angle on it, and no play for sympathy.

Just Steve Rogers, sitting at a dinner table, genuinely asking himself the question.

The room goes very quiet, even Tony stops typing.

"Steve," you start, "that's not —"

"No, I —" He takes his hand away from his mouth, and straightens up. There's something resolved in his face that you distrust immediately. He seems to have made a decision without enough information and intends to see it through. "I want to know what I did wrong. That's fair, isn't it. You deserve to be heard."

"You didn't do anything—"

"Because I've been thinking about the Patterson debrief," he says.

"The Patterson — that was six months ago —"

"I was hard on you."

"You were accurate —"

"I could've been more —" he pauses, picking the word carefully, "— constructive."

"Steve, I learned from that debrief, it was fine —"

"And the rotation scheduling in March," he continues, with the momentum of a man who has opened a file he's been keeping closed, "I had you on doubles for two weeks running. That wasn't — that was too much, and I should've —"

"Steve."

"— and the equipment issue. You flagged it twice and I didn't move it up the chain fast enough, that was on me, I should've —"

"Steve."

He stops.

"I like working with you," you say. "That's not what this is."

He looks at you for a long moment. Something in his expression does something complicated. Then, very quietly, he puts his face in his hands.

Not dramatically, Steve doesn’t do dramatics, he’s a man of dignity. Just — his elbows go to the table and his palms go to his forehead and he sits there. So does the table, with nobody saying anything for a full four seconds.

"It's a three month internship," Bruce says gently, into the silence.

"I know what it is," Steve says, muffled.

He clearly does not fully know what it is.

"I'll do a thousand," Tony says. "Week. Flat."

"Tony —"

"No strings, no deliverables. You can consult on whatever Meridian's got you on, I don't care, I just —" he pauses. For just a second, something more emotional underneath the bidding war flickers. But, he covers it immediately. "I have better coffee."

"You keep saying the coffee."

"The coffee is exceptional."

"Eleven hundred," he says, before you can finish. "And I'll get you a better chair. You've been complaining about the chair in the east lab for —"

"I haven't said yes to any of this."

"Twelve hundred and the chair and I'll put your name on the lab door —"

"Tony —"

"A plaque," he says. "Engraved. Nice font."

Bucky hasn't spoken.

He's been sitting at the far end of the table since you made the announcement. He has a look on his face that you've learned to read as the specific register of Bucky feeling something he has no modern vocabulary for. So he’s simply sitting inside it like a very unhappy building.

"Buck," you try.

He looks at you.

"Say something."

A long pause.

"I taught you the Bucharest cover protocol," he says.

"I — yes —"

"It took me three weeks," he says. "Three weeks. We run it every Tuesday."

"I know, I was there —"

"You're the only other person who knows the Bucharest cover protocol."

You stare at him. "Bucky, that's —"

"Fine," he says. He picks up his glass, and takes a drink. He sets it down with a precise, final click that communicates everything he has decided not to say.

You look at Sam, who mouths: give him a minute.

"Here's my thinking," Clint says.

Everyone turns. He’s been sitting on a theory and has decided the time has come.

"You want normal," he says. "That's what this is. You want regular. Office job and commute. Colleagues who don't know how to dismantle a perimeter. Normal-person stuff."

"Clint —"

"I have that," he says, leaning forward. "I have a farm. I have kids. I coach little league on a completely voluntary basis, I do not have to do that, I choose to do that because I am a normal person with normal hobbies who happens to also —" he gestures vaguely at himself, at the compound, at the general situation.

"The point is, if you want normal, I am right here. You could come to the farm. Help Laura with the garden. It's very —" he searches for the word. "Regulatory."

You open your mouth.

"I have chickens," he adds, as a closing argument.

"Clint, I don't want to work on your farm —"

"I'm not offering you a job, I'm offering you a vibe," he says. "The chickens are incidental."

Thor has been quiet since the ship comment. But quiet for the Asgardian has a texture to it, a specific density, and you've noticed it building for the last ten minutes.

"I do not pretend to understand the customs of this era," he says, finally, with great dignity. "But in Asgard, when a warrior of your standing sought training elsewhere, it was —" he pauses. "It was considered."

"Considered what?" Sam asks.

Thor looks at you. "A message," he says simply. "To the one who trained them."

Steve makes a sound (a wail? sob?) from behind his hands.

"Thor," Natasha says.

"I speak only of custom."

"Different custom," Bruce says. "Very different. Completely inapplicable."

"I am simply providing context —"

"The context is making it worse."

"I don't see how —"

"Steve's had his face in his hands for four minutes."

Thor looks at Steve, then looks at you. Something crosses his face — the big, open guilt of someone who has genuinely tried to help and has made things measurably worse.

"I'm sure your captain has been excellent," he tells you, earnestly, which lands on Steve like a small additional weight.

"I know he has," you say. "That's what I keep —"

"Thirteen hundred," Tony says.

"I didn't fail you," Steve says, from behind his hands. He says it like he's trying to convince himself. "I just — I want to make sure I didn't fail you."

"You didn't."

"The Patterson debrief —"

"Was six months ago and I learned from it."

"March rotations —"

"Were fine."

"The equipment —"

"Steve." You wait until he lowers his hands. He looks exhausted in the specific way of someone who has been their own harshest critic for so long it's become reflex.

"Listen to me. You're a good captain. You've been — you're a good captain. I'm going because I want to learn something new, not because I want to get away from you. Do you understand that?"

He holds your gaze for a moment.

"Three months," he says.

"Three months."

A long breath, then he picks his fork back up. Steve starts eating with the air of a man who has not resolved anything but has decided to table it. For him, it’s roughly equivalent to waving a white flag.

You find a sticky note on your kit bag the next morning.

Make sure they know what they have. — N

Underneath, in different handwriting - blunt, slightly too much pressure on the pen, like someone who learned to write when paper was expensive:

Tuesday cover protocol debrief before you go. You're not leaving until you can run it in your sleep. — B

And at the bottom, in the handwriting you'd know anywhere, neat and deliberate and with slightly too much space between the letters because he still isn't used to ballpoints:

Locker's yours when you're back. Don't let them work you too hard. — Steve

You stand in the corridor for a moment. Three months, you think, It’ll be absolutely fine. (You're going to miss them so much it's embarrassing.)

$ tag @twentytomidnight @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger

$ join taglist

You’re packing up your gym bag when you first overhear them talking. “Movie starts at eight so I figured we could get food at six then walk over?”

“Sounds good,” Hope replies. “Did you invite Carol?”

Your heart sinks as you watch the two of them, hoping that they’ll look over, that they’ll realise. Natasha said all the girls – all of them surely included you? Neither of them even glances at you as they grab their own stuff and head out of the gym. It stings more than you’d care to admit as you slowly stand up, wiping some sweat from your forehead. Natasha had been training with you all day and hadn’t asked you once about a movie, or even told you she had plans that evening.

As you head towards the entrance you spot Tony and Sam talking, “Most of the girls are going out so I thought we could watch a movie here,” Sam says. “Rest of the team, get some snacks, maybe some beer, just chill.”

“Sounds good, I’ll send out a text,” Tony says.

Rest of the team? Surely that must include you. You linger in the doorway, waiting for one of them to say something to you. Tony’s eyes land on you and you smile, but all he does is reach over and ruffle your hair, “Have a good weekend kid. See you on Monday.”

Sam smiles at you too, “Yeah, have a good one kid.”

You visibly wilt but neither of them notices, both clearly eager to start their evening. Maybe they’re under the assumption you’ve been invited out with Natasha and the girls. Maybe they were only planning to invite people actually living in the compound, though you know Tony has his own place. Perhaps it’s your age but you’re only a few years younger than Kate, you could go watch an R-Rated movie with them…

As you head through the compound it feels like everyone’s getting ready to do something fun. Everyone except for you. You pause by the kitchen, seeing Wanda making herself a snack which she often does after training. Kate is sitting on the kitchen counter talking to her, along with Yelena. You wait for one of them to look over, to invite you to join them, but when Yelena does eventually notice you she just smiles and waves, “See you Monday, kid! Don’t get into too much trouble!”

Officially dismissed, you head for the exit, knowing exactly what format the evening, and the rest of the weekend, will now take. Your Mom will be out; she’s usually out most evenings. Your Dad had taken off years ago, you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d seen him. No one will ask you to hang out. No one will make plans with you. You’ll watch reruns of Judge Judy whilst eating whatever food your Mom left for you in the fridge, then head to bed and play on your old Nintendo DS that was just about still clinging on for dear life. You’d got it cheap at a second-hand stall a few years ago because you couldn’t afford a Nintendo Switch. There was no point buying an XBOX or a PlayStation because the only TV in the house was in the living room, and was so ancient that the cables probably wouldn’t be a match.

You have five dollars that you’d found in the park when you’d gone for that walk last week. That might get you a couple of decent snacks to make your evening slightly better. As you head through the reception you hear a burst of laughter behind you, and you have to blink back sudden tears.

You’d joined the Avengers earlier this year, after it had been discovered you could turn invisible. All you’d done was sneak into your school to get the test answers so you’d be prepared for the following day when it had suddenly turned into a whole government problem. You’d been terrified they’d lock you away indefinitely but they’d eventually handed you over to the Avengers, deciding it would be easier for them if they made you the Avengers’ problem. There’d been a long discussion but they’d ultimately agreed you weren’t dangerous, that you could continue living with your Mom, but you’d begin your training at the compound. No more school for you, Tony had hired a tutor to come in to keep you on top of your studies, but most of your time was now dedicated to intensive Avengers training.

Not having to go to school anymore was a major bonus – you’d never really made any friends there. When you’d joined the Avengers you’d been pleased by how kind they were to you, and you’d thought you’d finally found your ‘tribe’ so to speak. Months had gone by though and none of them had ever invited you to Avengers events, to hangouts, to anything outside of training.

You’ve taken just a few steps out of the compound when you stop. Suddenly you can’t stomach the thought of going home. Of sitting alone in that empty apartment with reheated leftovers from last night, wondering whether your Mom will come home tonight or whether she’ll stay at someone else’s house, not sure which is worse. You think of the Friday that she did come home, so drunk she could barely stand, how she’d woken you up by sitting on the edge of your bed, “You’ll always be a loser.” Her voice had been slurred, continuing with her monologue as you pretended to be asleep. “It’s why your Dad left. He knew as well. Your teenage years are for sneaking out, for having some fun… And all you do is sit in this apartment.”

Her hand had patted your head, and you’d burrowed under the covers, trying even harder to pretend you were asleep. It hadn’t stopped her though – her voice had carried beneath your duvet, continuously calling you a loser, a loner, saying you were wasting your teenage years. By morning she’d forgotten. She got to forget and you’d have to remember them for the rest of your life.

Whilst her words had been cruel, some of them hadn’t been untrue. Every weekend does look exactly the same. You never go anywhere or do anything. There are no friends for you to hang out with. What’s the point in ‘sneaking out’? Your Mom would’ve even notice and it’s not like you have anyone to cause mischief with. Nobody likes you. Nobody looks out for you. You’re completely alone in the world.

Before you even realise what you’re doing you turn on your heel and storm back into the compound, throwing your gym bag against the wall, and heading straight to the kitchen. More of the Avengers are gathered there now, some having a drink, some a snack, some just congregating as they all joke and banter, ready for the weekend ahead. All of them excited, none of them lonely or left out.

Steve spots you first, giving you a soft smile, “Hey kid. Did you forget something?”

“No, you guys forgot me!” You shout at the very top of your voice. Usually soft-spoken, it makes everyone pause their conversations to look at you. Normally you’d be embarrassed but the words spill out of your mouth before you can even process what you’re saying, “I like movies! I like hanging out and going for walks and playing games and I know I’m a little young but I’d probably like drinking too and I like- I like all of you! But none of you like me and I don’t get why I’m not your friend or why I’m not invited to any group activities or- Or-”

You’re finally cut off by Wanda putting an arm around your shoulders, and you burst into noisy tears. She shoots a look at the other Avengers, before leading you out of the kitchen, “It’s okay Sweetheart, let’s go somewhere a little quieter and you can tell me, okay?”

You sob as she leads you towards one of the smaller meeting rooms, used mainly for one to one’s and performance reviews. “I just- All I- I just want you to be my friend.”

“I am your friend.”

“So am I,” Yelena says, having followed you both from the kitchen. She closes the door behind her as the three of you sit in the meeting room. “What’s going on?”

“I’m so lonely,” You sniffle, letting Wanda stroke her fingers over your head. “I don’t wanna go home and sit by myself-”

“We thought you’d be out with friends,” Wanda says. “Or that you’d have plans with your parents-”

“It’s just me and my Mom, and she hates me.”

“Oh no, I’m sure she doesn’t,” Yelena says. “How could anyone hate someone as funny and considerate and resilient as you?”

“No, she does, she called me a loser and I am, I’m a fucking loser, I never go anywhere or do anything, and you guys can sense it too which is why you never invite me anywhere-”

“Slow down, slow down,” Wanda encourages, as you hiccup and choke on your words as you try to force them past your tears. “We just thought you’d get bored hanging around with a bunch of adults. We didn’t realise you were feeling so lonely.”

“Of course you can come to the movie,” Yelena says. “It is girl’s night after all.”

Your bottom lip trembles, “I- I can’t. I don’t even have any money.”

“Then I’ll pay for you,” Wanda says. “Have whatever you want at dinner, and I’ll cover your movie ticket too.”

“And you can sit by me and I’ll get us popcorn to share,” Yelena says. “And those strawberry laces, those are so good.”

“The others won’t want me there after I just yelled like that,” You sniffle.

“No one will care honey, I promise,” Wanda says. “Everyone loves you, I mean… I thought you realised you were our baby.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re all pretty protective of you,” Yelena says. “We’ve tried to give you space ‘cos you know, you’re a teenager and you’re probably way too cool for us to be fussing over you all the time-”

“Hey, is she okay?” Natasha asks, appearing in the doorway. “I got you a glass of water.”

“See,” Yelena says with a grin. “We all think the world of you.”

“Y/N’s joining us for dinner and the movie,” Wanda says.

“Oh, awesome!” Natasha says, putting your water down on the table and smiling. “You can sit next to me-”

“She’s sitting by me!” Yelena says.

“Well she has two sides and I’m sitting on the other one!”

Wanda pats your shoulder, “See? We are your friends, I promise. And now we know, we’ll invite you to more things. We didn’t mean to make so many assumptions.”

“You promise you don’t just feel sorry for me?” You ask.

“No way, you’re like the coolest person ever,” Natasha says. “You’re so young and yet you’re already such a great asset to the team. We’ll have you out on the field in no time. You’re gonna be one of the strongest Avengers, just wait.”

Thor smiled reassuringly, his hand slightly raised in your direction, palm facing upward as if inviting you to take it. “Are you alright?” Repeating his unanswered question from before, his head tilted a fraction to his left, a brief hint of concern flickering in those ceruleans.

You were stunned. Your mind did a poof! then it’s gone, hidden away in the tiny crevices of your skull. “yEs—!” You squeaked, voice embarrassingly cracking like a stale breadstick before clearing your throat, trying again. “I mean, yes. Yes, I am.”

Okay, presentable. Hardly. But the efforts were seen.

“… I see.” Thor couldn’t help but let his smile widen, amusement shining through. “Getting quite cozy in the captain’s arms, too, I suppose?” Of course he couldn’t help but tease, his outstretched hand lowering.

You raised your brow in judgment, then looked down—where you were still held like a damsel in distress. You were no damsel, just distressed. Steve also looked down, as if forgetting that he was still, in fact, carrying you. Your weight had become comfortable in his hold, feeling exactly like something he had been missing from eons ago he didn’t know he wanted. (Granddaddy who?)

“Uhm.” You replied, smartly. “I think I can walk now, thank you.” You can't. Sense of touch had returned, yes, but sense of feeling in your legs hadn't. Your knees still felt weak like someone stole your nico-nico-kneecaps and ran like the thief that they were.

Also, was it just you or was it suddenly hotter in here? Like woah, can the sun chill out—oh, it’s… slightly raining? Cool, cool.

Steve didn't trust your words, soulmate instincts flaring in lie detection and whatnot. But he gently moved as told, lowering you carefully like one would to an injured fox—well, if the injured fox’s injury was a concussion, then immediately hovering—not touching—over your arms to act as a guide when you stumbled, quick to catch if ever an imaginary pebble decided it was your time to trip (he’s not gonna let that go).

It was then he decided to admit he was already missing your warmth—with god as his only witness, and his traitorous heart vomiting confessions his mind would think twice before registering.

Meanwhile, you thank the stars for not tripping, but the itch burning on your right shoulder blade is slowly starting to bother you. It almost feels like an invisible pencil was sketching something vaguely reminiscent of a symbol you don’t have the patience to identify.

“Thank you for that, uhm, Captain?” You raised your hand in an awkward attempt at a handshake. Steve—albeit confusedly—gently placed his calloused hand in yours, engulfing it completely with how large his hand was, shaking it once, twice, thrice as if he couldn’t let go. But you did, ‘cause it’s embarrassing how clammy your hand had gotten. You swear it’s not always like that; you blame the NYC air.

Then you pivoted, looking up at the scrumptious giant. “And God.” You raised your other hand this time, waiting for him to take it. Thor did, not even a second later. His hand felt warm—safe. That's the only way to describe it. Your hand was completely covered, and foreign, tiny zaps of electricity slightly tickled your palm. It was strange, yes—you don’t quite remember Thor radiating lightning when touching someone, but maybe this was a forgotten detail in the movies. Maybe it was in the comics, but you really don’t give a fuck, not as if you remembered anyway—you watched the movies for visuals. And maybe for the story and character analysis to procrastinate, but it really doesn’t matter, does it? Besides, it’s not your fault they did a really good job with the cast.

It isn’t. This wasn’t normal. Thor would know; it’s literally his power.

Adding the fact that his well-concealed soul-mark was pulsing in his wrist, he might have an idea why.

You were poking his hand the moment he regained the ability to think coherent thoughts, looking as curious as ever. “…Name?” Thor mumbled, mind apparently still not completely there. Who could blame him? The myth he hardly believed in was currently biting him in the ass. After all, finding a soulmate as a god was something akin to finding a white fox in the middle of a summer heat. Damn near impossible.

But, what do you know, like most antibacterial shit on the market, there’s still a 0.01% chance of finding the germ—gem, he meant gem.

“Huh?” You halted your curious exploration of his bulging dorsal metacarpal veins, choosing to dumbly stare at him instead—those three (3) ridiculous hypotheses still clouding your pretty brain (and the not-so-PG-13 things that include, but are not limited to: bulging biceps, muscular thighs, defined backs, and something about open-mindedness—but that’s like something you aren’t ready to publicly disclose yet).

It made Steve’s lips curl upwards, because surprise surprise, he too wants your name. “He asked for your name, Miss—uh—Miss Stranger.” He stammered, a beautiful pink hue covering the tippy top of his ears as his golden locks gently swayed with the air. It’s like those Head & Shoulders ads you can’t seem to fucking skip ‘cause YouTube is a capitalist asshole, just like that. Except this time, you’d actually, wholeheartedly watch it with zero complaints.

You thought it was cute. Before registering the statement.

“It’s—uhm…” ooh, your name! What to dooo, you forgot your name! Maybe instead of creating visual diagrams backed by research papers and citing Zhang. et al., you should’ve tried to remember the most important part of your identity as a barely functioning human being. Just a thought.

Then, suddenly, as if blessed by the gods who had smitten you less than an hour earlier, you heard a loud whirl of a machine’s firepower briefly shutting down, landing directly on your left.

“Ooookay, glad you’re socializing. Really. But had’ta drop in—I feel like you’re forgetting you’re—you know—in the middle of a battle. Just a hunch.”

Oh, that cocky motherfucking tone—you’d recognize that from anywhere (now that you’ve got your brain intact).

It made shivers involuntarily run down your spine, the hairs on your arms standing to no end as you tried to stomp down the giddy feeling in your chest, your mind easily registering who that person could be.

Of-fucking-course it’s Tony Stark.

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i have zero thots, all i can say is that everyone, i meant EVERYONE will fall. so yes, tony is not your father figure because, as the title suggests, he will be FUCKED. alsooo, check the tags veeeeeery closely; you'll see the love interests. ALSO, SHOUTOUT TO THE ANON WHO SAID I SHOULD WATCH THE AA CARTOON WHEN THEY SAW MY VERY VISIBLE CRASH OUT. THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!! and i knoooooowwww, i promised a leon fic but i'm polishing it okayyyy. 7k words in and i'm quite literally shocking myself with things i'm discovering abt me, it's crazy. it's the LSK effect, i swear. anywhoooo, hope you like this one! i'm honestly, positively shocked by the love the first part of this fic has received, as i'm preeeetttty sure this doesn't get done anymore (or i'm just not looking hard enuff ouu please rec me one to prove me wrong plsplsplspls). SO THANK YOU, FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART, I'M GRATEFUL! (as always, rbs n comms for kisses—i read every single one!)

© deityditee 2026

𑣲⋆you are definitely spending his card until the bank calls and ensures it did not get stolen (even though you have your own with more than enough money in it). tony gets these calls at least once a month and just waves them off, saying your name in response. the bank apologizes for the inconvenience. 

𑣲⋆when tony is in the lab, it is rare when he finds a moment of quiet, whether that be from F.R.I.D.A.Y or you. when working on a new project, he purposefully ignores your whines until you have to storm in.

𑣲⋆"can i bother you for a second?" you ask, when it's never just a second. tony sighs, knowing that he's about to get another headache, but it's all for his baby girl. you hop on the nearest table that doesn't have papers, a mug, or important hud technology on it, not waiting for a confirmation. somewhere between you telling a story about val and kate, tony puts his tools down. he convinces himself that the story mildly piqued his interest. F.R.I.D.A.Y knows better and remains quiet.

𑣲⋆one night, tony has a break, and he tries to sit down for a simple movie night by himself. no avengers to bother him and work cast aside. after a long day of school and getting fun drinks with your gals down at soho, you drop your bag and slouch next to your dad. "what's up, princess?" after you answer with a quick "nothing!", you give him a rundown of your day in considerable detail. at this point, the tv displays "are you still watching?" and tony is nodding along with "mhm" as his eyes droop.

𑣲⋆when you come home from school, you come to tony in almost tears. you pout, explaining how your physics teacher gave you an 80% on your project that you (and F.R.I.D.A.Y) spent a week on. in disbelief, tony refuses this answer and immediately calls for a parent-teacher conference. when tony comes back around thirty minutes later, he wipes your tears and gives a pat on the back, saying that it was all taken care of. your grade was bumped to a 95% shortly after. 

𑣲⋆after you get caught walking down fifth avenue with some boy (peter), paparazzi went berserk. gossip pages were filled with questions and assumptions (that were slightly true) were made known to nearly everyone. after sneaking back into the tower, tony scolds you for not being more incognito. "why should i ever cover up my outfit?" you say, completely missing the entire point as your dad pinches the bridge of his nose. peter is probably the least of his concerns right now, but he's filing away that questioning for much later (most likely at dinner with the avengers). when you're watching tv together and the headlines have died down, he glances over and says "so. peter, huh?" you pull your knees to your chest and plant your face in them.

𑣲⋆you and your dad have quite similar music taste. the difference is that you have the worst habit of blasting it when you're not wearing your headphones. tony gets away with it because it's his tower. you, on the other hand, get asked to turn it down by all six avengers. you pretend to not hear them.

𑣲⋆on tony's desk, there is a photo of you two from when you were around five. the white, wooden picture frame has a small stain from motor oil because you insisted on 'helping' him fix his suit. he has never cleaned it since.

𑣲⋆natasha is the only avenger you go to when something is terribly wrong, which your father knew and eventually accepted. however, he has not accepted that she won't tell him anything. "she's fine tony. my mouth is zipped shut." "that's not what i asked." "that's exactly what you asked."

𑣲⋆ever since you were young, your personality has been a near replica of tony's. sharp, unpredictable, and always very honest. you voiced your opinions on each and every avenger's suit, as well as weapons, and told them unpromptly. "y'know clint, purple isn't really your color." you were forced to say sorry later that night.

𑣲⋆when finishing up in the lab one evening, tony overheard you talking to kate on the phone, saying that he was your best friend. he has not emotionally recovered since, and hasn't told a soul. he thinks about it quite often, even after you annoy him by saying you flipped off reporters who asked about his new product.

𑣲⋆tony is a very organized man (or at least he tries to be) and keeps everything in order. when exam season starts, your papers are everywhere. glitter-gel pens and imported highlighters are in thor's cookie jar. the blanket you drag everywhere is found in a different spot every day. he angrily but understandingly picks it up and drapes it over you when you nap on the couch every time. 

𑣲⋆the avengers have a group chat. naturally, you are no longer in it. when it was first created, you were accidentally added. you freely expressed your opinions on everything, because seriously, who has the android?? they still won't tell you. even though you were removed, tony still screenshots and shows rhodey your texts because only they would find it entertaining. 

𑣲⋆you know how to win an argument against your father at all times. make your point louder than his, say it louder than him, and skip away before he can actually come up with a rebuttal. he started doing the same after he took notice after the third time, which made the tower louder than it already was. after nat showed steve how to use google, he searched up "how to call in a noise complaint if you live with the noise complaintees?"

𑣲⋆every single year for your birthday, tony gets you something very high-tech and then very vintage. one year, it was a typewriter from before steve was even born and a hair curler that operated without using your hands. you keep every single gift.

𑣲⋆you have successfully been on three magazine covers before you even pitched yourself. the editors are from tony's pr team, of course. it is the same routine of showing up, looking incredible, and saying something that can be interpreted in any way possible. the most recent magazine quoted that you were "refreshingly real and candid."

𑣲⋆a designer once sent you their entire spring collection without notice because you had been photographed wearing one of their vintage pieces while leaving a coffee shop. you texted a photo of the boxes to val, saying, "let's share ;)'

𑣲⋆you were upgraded to first class on a commercial flight because the stark jet was getting maintenance repairs, and you had somewhere to be within the next 12 hours. you posted a photo of yourself with duck lips on your story, captioned, "roughing it." the comments and shares did not receive it well. tony saw it, liked it, and added it to the extremely long list of reasons he finds you admirable and hilarious. 

𑣲⋆you mention tony casually in conversations in ways that make people stop breathing for a hot moment. not exactly saying his full legal name or saying that he just bought a new car, but more like "yeah, my dad couldn't come to the ceremony because he was at a UN thing or something."

𑣲⋆a tabloid once described you as "america's royalty adjacent", which you corrected under their post. "not adajcent." your comment got much traction, which made tony send it to the avengers group chat with one sentence: "laughing out loud."

𑣲⋆someone started a fan account for you without your knowledge. you found out through val and kate, only after wrestling them for val's phone after they would not stop snickering. you followed it, liked three photos, which soon crashed the account from the traction. after being asked about it by a journalist, you simply said "no comment."

𑣲⋆you attended a press event with tony, at which you were asked a question that was obviously a gotcha about your nepotism. you grinned, knowing that it was a bit true, but would never feed into the media's stupid (correct) assumptions. "i mean, someone was going to be his kid. lucky me, aren't i?" the clip ended up with millions of views. tony was probably half of the views. never felt prouder.

𑣲⋆as strong as your personality is, so is your yelp and tik tok account. you leave a comment in expeditious detail at every luxury hotel you stay at. in a recent one, you left four stars instead of five. the reactions online were quite what you expected. "yn stark bashes newest london hotel!" "not nepo-approved." "starks are not satisfied." the hotel's pr team personally reached out to tony's, begging for you to take it down. tony forwarded it to his assistant, and has not heard about it since. 

𑣲⋆one of your classmates from bio once asked if you could get them into one of your dad's business events that were exclusively invite only or cost a pretty penny. you got them in, and special access with tony. they have been loyal to you since, which is a bit crazy, since you barely remember even doing so.

𑣲⋆after his assistant told him what it meant, tony attempted to ragebait you. first, it was leaving your curling iron on, which you just yelled at him for almost setting your bathroom on fire. then, shipping your package to the tokyo house rather than the tower. these didn't piss you off that much, but you drew the line at what he said at dinner. "y'know, you really are my favorite daughter!" you smiled until you realized what he had said. you then stopped chewing, swallowed thickly, and yelled, "i'm your only daughter!"