seen from Spain
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seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from France
seen from India
seen from Tajikistan
seen from Pakistan
seen from China
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seen from United States
seen from China
MY LPS IS STICKY PLEASE HELP. DIDNT SPILL OR ANYTHING. JUST A STICKY BABY BOY.
i usually don’t post anything after 12am (it is 1:08 right now), but i was just casually scrolling through my notifications and saw This ask, and thought “yeah. this needs to be answered Now.”. everyone should see this
Why has some of the bnha fandom decided that Sero is Spanish/Latino?
I see SO MANY Tiktoks of him just speaking spanish??
Peter: Hey Mr. Stark! You really don’t have to worry. I was only lightly stabbed and—
Tony:
the domesticity of it all
Here’s some sleepy!peter for all yall. read it on ao3!!
Tony tapped on the counter to snag the attention of the bar tender.
“Martini, very dry, with olives. Lots of olives, like three.” Tony ordered, waving a twenty towards the young bartender who snatched it up and got to work. There was a tug on his suit jacket. He turned.
“Mr. Stark,” Peter tugged Tony’s jacket again, bending the man over so he could speak in his ear. “Can I go back to the tower?”
It was a valid question. Tony, and by association Pepper and Peter, had been invited to an Oscorp launch party. Tony decided it was best to show up and see exactly what he was competing with. He had to keep Oscorp at arms length so he knew exactly how to stay one step ahead of them. Keeping your friends close but your enemies closer bullshit. Presently, he was thoroughly unimpressed and laughably so. Pepper agreed to come along to reign in Tony’s temper and Peter was there for no reason but for Tony to be pompous. My baby genius is smaller and smarter than yours, he had thought to himself whilst getting ready. Oscorp could suck on that for a while.
“Why? What’s wrong?” Tony pulled back, sweeping a look over Peter. The bartender slid the glass to Tony and the billionaire picked it up and took a sip.
“Nothing, nothing. Jus’ tired.” Peter shrugged. “I can swing over, if you’re picking up what I’m putting down.” Peter winked, a goofy grin taking over the majority of his face.
“Is that safe? You’re like 8 years old. Someone might mistake you for an infant and try and call the authorities.”
“Mr. Stark, I’m 17. And...aren’t we the authorities?”
“No, we’re the Avengers. The police still exist. See, this is why I don’t want you out there alone. It’s late.”
“I am a responsible adult, Mr. Stark!”
Tony took a long sip of his martini. “What’s your debit card pin?”
Peter blinked up at him. He sniffed. “Uh, 7?”
“Oh wow, you’re missing...just...so many digits. Okay, let’s get you home.”
Peter flushed, his ears tinting crimson, matching his tie. “No, Mr. Stark! You don’t have to go. I know you’re trying to prove a point here.”
Tony watched the kid rock from his heels to his toes and back again. Now that the light caught him right, he did look awfully tired. Dark circles caressed his vast doe eyes. Despite the exhaustion permeating the air around him, his hazel eyes never stopped sparkling. His hair wouldn’t obey the laws of physics because no matter how much gel Peter had put in it, his wild curls stood askew all over his head. And the suit jacket he wore must’ve been a size too big because it dwarfed his shoulders and hung past his finger tips. God, he had brought a baby to an Oscorp party. They needed to bounce. Immediately.
“The fire inside me burns brighter than the fire around me.” Tony downed the rest of his Martini and slid the cup back across the bar.
Peter paused, the gears visibly turning. “What...what does that even mean?”
“It means let’s blow this popsicle stand, put on our pajamas and drink hot chocolate while we watch Back to the Future.”
Peter seemed to like the sound of that because he lit up.
____
“Okay, Parker, when I put you on snack duty, I didn’t expect you to bring the entire fridge!” Tony blinked at the coffee table which was covered in ever snack and assortment.
“Well, I grabbed the chips because I know Pepper likes them. And you can’t watch a movie without popcorn but we had three kinds so I grabbed them all. And we always drink hot chocolate together, Mr. Stark. We can’t break tradition. I put marshmallows in it just how you like.” Peter shoved the mug of cocoa into Tony’s unexpecting hands.
“The Oreos were for my sweet tooth but I had to balance it out by grabbing the pickles. And then I grabbed the ice cream because I need something cold," Peter motioned to the pint of Stark Raving Hazelnuts. "But then I thought it would be too cold so I heated up the thai in the fridge and then I grabbed the carrots because I need to stay healthy," he paused, hoping to receive praise for his smart choices. He was met by silence. He went on. "But then I remembered I can’t eat carrots without ranch so I grabbed the ranch which reminded me that we had left over pizza so I grabbed that too...” Peter grinned, sheepishly. “I’m hungry.” He admitted.
“Jesus,” Tony breathed. “Alright, Gordon Ramsay. Sounds good to me. I know you're a growing Spider-boy.” He nodded at the couch. “Get comfy.” Tony got the movie cued up and then sat next to Peter. Immediately, the kid shifted closer, staring up at Tony with longing gaze laced with insecurity.
“Come on, Itsy Bitsy. You can come closer.” That was all Peter needed because he pressed himself against Tony’s side, snatching up the jar of pickles. “Don’t make yourself sick, bud.” Tony placed a hand on Peter’s back. He lifted the mug to his lips, glad he had traded his martini for hot chocolate. The domestic life really had its perks.
“Never, Mr. Stark.” He looked up at the sound of footsteps. “Oh, hey, Pepper!”
“Oh, so you can call her Pepper but you can’t call me Tony?” Tony sighed, pinching Peter’s ear. The kid yelped, and Tony chuckled.
“I’m special.” Pepper settled on the other side of the couch.
Tony nodded, sipping his warm beverage. “You are.”
“Shh! The movies starting.” Peter squirmed, getting situated beside Tony again. He discarded of the now empty pickle jar and grabbed the bowl of popcorn.
“Right, absolutely.” Tony settled back, watching the opening scene of the movie.
Sometime during the movie, Tony felt Peter grow significantly heavier and warmer. When the popcorn bowl began to slip from his grasp, Tony grabbed it quickly before it flipped out of his hands. By the time the credits were rolling, Pepper had cleaned off the coffee table and shuffled off to bed.
"FRIDAY, turn off the TV.” The television went dark and room was swallowed by darkness, except for the dim lights coming from above the stove in the kitchen only feet away.
Tony looked down at the sleeping boy in his lap. God, Peter was so young. He was wearing a hoodie and sweatpants and without the stress of expectation weighing on him, he looked impossibly young. Unbelievably small. Tony breathed it in. This was a kid, he was holding. A kid with a future. No, not just any kid, he thought. My kid.
I would burn down the world to protect you, Peter Parker.
To ruin the perfect moment, Peter shifted, snoring and smacking his lips together before he settled back down against Tony. He didn’t have the heart to wake this kid. He really had looked so tired.
“What have you done to me, kid?” Tony asked as he pulled the afghan off the back of the couch and draped it over Peter. Tony reclined and let his eyes slip shut. “What have you done to me?”
They stayed like that the rest of the night, perfectly intertwined and breathing in tandem.
#21 if you’re still doing the prompts?? 😁
Here you go! Thank you for this! xx. - MJ
Peter was staring down the barrel of a gun.
That’s when it dawned on him, oh, oh yeah, I am neck deep in shit.
See, no matter which way he swung this, he’d still get his ass handed to him on a silver platter. If not by this gunman then by Aunt May or Tony; whichever one got to him first. It was hours passed his curfew but he was awakened by the police scanner beside his bed, reporting a jewelry store heist happening only a few blocks over. Queens was sizable city and a robbery was happening only a few blocks from where he lived. How could he not go? Aunt May couldn’t possibly get mad at him for doing his job. It was only 2 AM and he’d only be around the corner. Come on, that was pure Spider-Man luck.
It turned out the sensation he thought was luck was apparently indigestion from Aunt May’s meatloaf because so far nothing was going his way. Two armed thieves had been webbed up but the third had ran leaving him alone with one.
“I’m bulletproof,” Peter began, throwing his hands in the air. “But please, don’t shoot me.” The suit was bulletproof, sure, but that didn’t mean getting shot wouldn’t still hurt like hell. There was still flesh under all that nanotechnology. How would he explain bullet indentations to Mr. Stark?
The gunman smiled behind the ski mask, trailing the gun from his head and to his chest.
“I will kill you.” He cocked the gun. “And history can decide whether I am the hero or the villain.”
Peter shuddered. That sounded like something out of a James Bond movie. It would be kind of cool, if, y’know, he didn’t have a gun aimed at his chest.
“Yeahyeahyeah, cool, cool, cool. I hear you, I do. But listen, I just had this suit dry cleaned and it would be a shame if you scuffed it with your bullets. So can we skip all the shooty-shooty stuff and jump to where I arrest you and then disappear into the sunrise?” Peter slowly began tip backwards out of the door frame where the glass had been shattered. Faintly, in the distance, he could hear sirens nearing and behind him repulsors cut out and metal crunched the concrete behind him. Oh no. Papa Bear Stark was on the scene.
Suddenly, the gun was no longer trained on him but on the figure behind him. Immediately, bullets began to rain around him; the cacophonous ping! of metal bouncing off of metal filling the sleeping city.
“Get behind me, Peter!” Wait…that was…Peter spared a glance over his shoulder. “Uncle Colonel Rhodes?” Peter immediately dove behind the commander. “What are you doing here, sir?”
“Saving your ass, kid, Outta my way.” War Machine stepped around Peter. Within seconds, the gunman was unarmed, cuffed and being guided to the police car out front. Hey, he could’ve done that!
The fly back to Tower was mostly silence, aside from Peter’s occasional protests that he wasn’t injured and he preferred to sneak back into his apartment and go to bed before school tomorrow.
“Nope, Tony requested that he see you personally.” Any other day, Peter would’ve burst open like a pinata of joy under any other circumstance but he just felt throat constrict with panic. They landed outside on the launching pad, starting for the sliding doors.
“But I had it under control, Mr. Rhodes, sir! I mean, you saw! The dude with the gun was all like ‘I’ll make you pay, blargh!’ and I was like ‘Stop! I’m Spider-Man!’ And then, then you came in! You were like ‘I’ve come to steal your thunder, Parker.’ Then the gun dude started shooting, all like bratatata! Pshhew! Vvvvrr--” Rhodey clapped a hand on Peter’s shoulder.
“Yeah Peter, I was there.” Rhodey disengaged the suit and tugged off Peter’s mask. “I know what happened.”
“It sounds like it was a blast!” Peter whirled to his left where Tony was leaning against the door frame, clapping slowly. “Real bang-up job, kid.” Tony sauntered forwards, clapping a hand on James’ shoulders. “Thanks, Rhodey. I got it from here.”
Colonel nodded and cast a bleak glance at Peter before walking inside.
“Mr. Stark! I was fine and I had everything under control–”
“Pipe down, Minnie Mouse. I don’t want to hear it.”
“But Mr. St–”
“Can it, Squirt!” Peter blinked. It was rare that Tony ever raised his voice but it got the job done. Shocked and wide eyed, Peter stood at attention. “Riddle me this, Superman. How does a superhero protect his country, his state– his neighborhood, if he’s dead?”
Peter swallowed audibly. It was a rhetorical but Tony seemed to be waiting for an answer. “He can’t.”
“That’s right. He can’t. You can’t be a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man if you let someone use you as target practice.” Tony ran a hand over his face. “Peter, the 5-0 handle things like this. Theft, vandalism, murder. That’s stuff for the civilians. You need to learn to gauge the urgency of a situation. Walk little old ladies across the street, and save kittens from trees. But don’t walk into gunfire! You have to stop putting your life on the line unnecessarily! You need to stop putting your life on the line, period!”
“Well, where were you, Mr. Stark?” Peter’s voice rose out of him without much thought. “Huh? Where were you then?”
“At home! Just like you should’ve been. I was home with one of my children, praying that my other one made it back safely! Oh, and trying to calm your aunt, who you scared the shit out of, mind you.” Tony jabbed a thumb over his shoulder and Peter looked inside. In the doorway, stood Aunt May in her pajamas, holding his police radio. Oh shit. “So next time you think it’ll be fun to go dance the tango with an armed criminal, please, give someone a warning first.”
The silence hung thickly between the two of them. Peter broke first, hanging his head.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know you are, but go tell that to your aunt.” Tony tugged Peter into a hug. “I’m glad you’re home.”
Peter let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“I’ll go talk to May.”
“You’re gonna be grounded until you’re 30, I can tell you that.” Tony snickered.
Peter winced. Yeah, he had seen that coming.
“Oh goodie.”
Another Year Around the Sun
Inspired by a tumblr post I read. Read this Tony birthday fanfic on AO3.
Another year around the sun, he thought, and another year closer to dentures.
Tony stalled as he padded towards the common room in the penthouse.
“Oh my God, I’m old.” Tony muttered to himself, shaking his head. It was his birthday. May 29th, his 49th birthday. He could feel it in his bones, in each crackle and pop wished him another happy birthday. Tony sighed around the lip of his mug, taking a sip of his Americano. He collapsed on the couch, preparing to spend his birthday in well deserved silence. Steve was upstate with Barnes and Sam, Pepper was in meeting all day, Romanov and Barton fucked off to Bolivia earlier that week. Thor was in one of the nine realms and he...he actually couldn’t account for his Spider-baby.
Just as he lifted his phone to check in on the kid, a noise caught his attention. Faintly…
Tap! Tap! Tap!
Tony looked up. Hanging off the side of Stark Tower, the sixth level window to the penthouse hung Peter Parker, clad in a red and blue onesie Spiderman costume. Tony snorted, setting down his mug and his phone. He walked over to the window and slid open the threshold.
Peter webbed himself inside and landed in a crouch. Tony’s jointed groaned in sympathy reminding him that he was old. I’m getting so close to fucking dentures…
“Why can’t you use a door like a regular person? There’s ample ways to get in here that don’t require scaling the side of my residence, Underoos.”
“What’s the fun of having enhanced abilities if I don’t get to use them?” Peter replied, peeling the mask off of his face. His chestnut locks stood wildly askew all over his head as if it had recently been washed and was air drying beneath the mask.
Tony huffed, amusedly.
“So,” Peter continued, tugging at the arms of his Spiderman suit. Tony watched as he struggled and tugged and finally stripped down to the jeans and tshirt he wore beneath the suit. That...couldn’t possibly be comfortable, Tony decided. “It’s your birthday.”
“Is that a speculation or do you know that for a fact?”
Peter blinked up at him with caramel eyes, the size of moons. “It’s your birthday, Mr. Stark. I’ve had it on my calendar for like...years.”
Tony’s mouth twitched and the corner of his eyes crinkled as he placed a hand on the small of Peter’s back and ushered him to the couch. “I don’t know if you want me to be endeared or a little scared…”
“Mr. Stark,” Peter groaned.
Tony gesticulated, silencing Peter’s whines. Peter’s forehead creased and Tony snickered.
“Okay, yeah. It’s my birthday kid. Why’s that got you hanging off the side of my building at…” Tony checked his watch. “10:27 in the morning.”
“Because,” Peter exclaimed, jerked up, spreading his arms wide. “We have to celebrate! I have presents!”
Tony paled. He would never get used to people dedicating a whole day to celebrate his existence, something he didn’t ask for. His mouth set into a hard line and he made a steeple out of his hands. “Pete,” he started. “You really shouldn’t have.”
Beaming with a lopsided grin that made Tony feel warm inside, Peter gave him a dismissive wave. “See, I knew you’d say that. So I didn’t. May did.” Peter dug around in his pocket and tugged out an envelope. He thrusted it towards Tony who hesitantly took it from his hands.
“Peter, I can’t-”
Peter blew out his cheeks. “Mr. Stark,” he sounded exasperated. “Just open it.”
“Alright, alright.” Damn, the kid looked like he was about to go into a temper tantrum if Tony delayed any longer so he tore the corner of the white paper and ripped the side of the envelope off. He slipped out the card.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY MR. STARK!
Was written on the front in big round letters, the marker stroke thick and heavy handed as he had seen Peter do before. Beneath the words was a scribbled doodle of Iron Man wearing a birthday hat and holding a cake that read “Birthday Boy”.
Tony’s features lit up. “Oh...Pete…”
“You didn’t even open it, Mr. Stark!”
Tony’s mouth formed a little “oh” and he opened the card. A disk fell out. He bent over, grunting as he picked the CD up.
“What is this?”
“I have no clue. May wouldn’t tell me.”
Tony nodded and walked over to the DVD player and placed the CD inside. Before hitting play, he turned his attention back to the card.
Before there was Spiderman, there was just a little boy with a big heart and a favorite superhero. Thank you for all you do for Peter. You have saved the Parker family countless times, before you even knew our names. Keep saving, keep loving and keep inspiring little kids with Avengers pajamas.
Happy 45th,
May Parker.
Tony grinned down at the yellow construction paper and clutched it to his chest. He silently took a seat next to Peter. “FRI, press play.”
The camera was fuzzy at first. The cameraman was shuffling around what seemed to be a living room.
“Pete!” The camera focused and displayed the disastrous room before them. Christmas paper was strewn across the floor, empty boxes piled in the corner. Trash bags were strategically placed around, filled with tape and paper remnants.
A little boy scrambled into the camera’s frame and the camera unsteadily zoomed out. The grainy image cleared the young boy stood there in red and gold Iron Man pajamas with a red blanket tied around his neck like a cape. The boy had a round face, his cheeks full and rosy. He had huge dimples indenting each cheek, and his jewel like eyes took up a large portion of his little face. His crystal clear hazel eyes twinkled with joy, and he squealed. It was apparent only when he smiled really wide that his two front teeth were missing.
“FRIDAY, turn this off please.” Peter begged beside Tony, his eyes going wide with recognition. Tony scowled.
“FRIDAY do not touch this.”
The video played on.
“What’d you get for Christmas, Pete?”
Peter made explosion noises as he flew the doll into the camera. “It’s Iron Man!” He hugged the figurine close. “I’ve wanted one of these for so long! It even makes noise!” Peter pressed the chest of the doll.
“I am Iron Man.” The doll said.
Tony cringed.
“Do you love Iron Man?”
“I love Iron Man with my whole entire heart. He is the best superhero ever! He keeps everyone safe, and he can fly and he even lives right here! I want to be like Iron Man when I grow up. I want to save people and fight crime and make e-explosions!” The cameraman chuckled at how awfully Peter butchered “explosions”.
“Well, merry Christmas, Pete.”
“Thanks Uncle Ben.” Peter hugged the figurine to his chest. “I love Iron Man. I hope Iron Man has good Christmas presents. He deserves extra presents from Santa. Do you think he was on the nice list this year?”
“I think so,” Uncle Ben agreed.
“Good. I love him.” Peter jutted his hand out and made a swooshing sound. “He’s taking off to save the city.” Peter swung his hand wildly, sending his Iron Man up and around in all different directions. “Hey, Uncle Ben…” Peter toddled over to the camera, his little button nose impossibly close to the lense.
“Mm?”
“Do you think I can be like Mr. Tony Stark one day?”
“You can be whatever you want to be, Peter.”
It grew quiet, until,
“Peter! Ben! Dinner’s ready!” May. The camera grew shaky and the last thing that was seen was Peter sprinting off, his red cape billowing behind him.
Then the video cut out.
There was silence for a while. Tony and Peter sat there and breathed it in. When Tony turned to the younger male, Peter was frozen where he sat. A blush had crept up his face so aggressively, Tony pondered if he was blushing down to his toes. Boy Wonder swallowed hard and Tony grew concerned he might pass out.
“Iron Man doesn’t wear a cape.”
Peter blinked as if coming out of a daze. “I want to curl up and die.”
Awe continued to transform Tony’s face, a joy he had never experienced before burning bright within him. “Hey Pete,” he called. The boy turned to regard him with a grimace. “You are much better than Iron Man. Little Peter would be proud of you.”
Tony didn’t think he could get much redder but somehow he did. Peter hung his hand. “T-Thanks, Mr. Stark. I didn’t know May put that in there. I-- She-- It’s not--...that’s so embarrassing.”
Tony wordlessly tugged the boy into a hug. He didn’t trust himself to speak as his throat seized up with emotion. His eyes burned with fresh tears and he didn’t let Peter go until he got ahold of the wild fluctuation of feelings.
“You don’t know how much that video means to me, Pete.” Tony finally said, pulling away.
Peter turned his innocent gaze on him and Tony thought he might just combust. He still looked like that little boy. More lanky, and a little more freckled but his eyes still glinted with purity. He was just a kid. He was just Tony’s kid.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Tony ruffled his hair. Peter laughed.
“Happy birthday, Mr. Stark.”
“Thanks kiddo.”
And it was on Tony’s 45th birthday that he realized maybe Iron Man did make a difference. Maybe...just maybe he was making a difference.
Tony started a Pinterest board of recipes the minute Peter began staying at his place, you can’t tell me otherwise
