#Tony Stank- | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amethystarachnid · 14 days ago

Note

Can you write for me Amnesia trope from Marvel Bingo with Tony/Fem reader? Tony is a little injured after a mission and he loses his memory, when reader is going to see him (wife or girlfriend) he won't recognize her but he'll immediately fall for her all over again �� she thinks it's absolutely cute that he didn't recognize her but soon he'll recover his memory and blush so hard when reader shows him his videos of him all smitten by her hahahaha ❤️ and Tony saying he'll alwyas fall for her 🥺 (some spicy kisse maybe?)

ALWAYS

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

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

ᯓ★ Genre: romance fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5.4k

ᯓ★ Summary: Because of an injury Tony temporarily loses his memories of you, his wife, and you're determined to make him gain them back. Do you really need to do so when he has already fallen back in love with you?

ᯓ★ TW(s): memory loss and clingy Tony

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

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

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

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The beeping. It’s the first thing you notice when you step into the hospital room—the insistent, steady beep of the heart monitor that Tony’s hooked up to. It’s steady, strong, and for that, you exhale a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. The smell of antiseptic stings your nose, reminding you that, despite Tony's resilience, he's as vulnerable as any of them in situations like these.

The mission had gone wrong in ways you didn’t see coming. Stark Industries had developed tech that a rival group decided they wanted to “borrow”—forcefully. What was supposed to be a simple extraction turned into a messy firefight. But, like always, Tony had pushed you to evacuate, promising he’d be right behind you. Instead, an explosion threw him from his suit, leaving him vulnerable to the final assault. He had barely gotten out before going down hard.

Now, you’re here, nerves raw and trembling as you hover by the doorway, watching him.

Tony is sitting up, but he seems…distant. Disoriented, maybe. His eyes are half-lidded, his lips pressed into a thin line as if he’s trying to make sense of something in the middle distance. It’s unnerving because you’re used to a Tony whose attention burns, even when he’s exhausted, half-buried in his lab, or just waking up. He sees everything.

But not this time. And for some reason, he doesn’t see you.

“Mrs. Stark?”

You turn as the doctor enters, offering you a sympathetic look. It’s a look that’s meant to ease you into news you know you don’t want to hear.

“Is he…awake?”

The doctor nods, gesturing you toward the chair by Tony’s bed. “He’s stable. His vitals are strong. The issue, Mrs. Stark, is that there appears to be some level of memory loss.”

The words clang in your ears, foreign and cold, completely out of place in the world you’ve built with Tony. “What do you mean by ‘memory loss’?”

She sighs, glancing at Tony before she speaks. “Memory loss is complicated. From what I’ve gathered, Mr. Stark has retained his long-term memories and most of his professional knowledge. But, due to the trauma and subsequent disorientation, there’s a block on more recent events…particularly in his personal life.”

Your stomach drops, and you take a deep breath, fighting to keep your voice steady. “He doesn’t remember me, does he?”

“I’m afraid not,” she says softly. “In many cases, memories return with time and familiar cues. Given Mr. Stark’s particular cognitive resilience, I have high hopes for recovery. But until then, he may…struggle with recognition and personal connections.”

You nod slowly, trying to take it all in. In all the battles, the missions, the threats, this is somehow scarier. Because it’s not just his body that’s wounded; it’s your life together that’s fractured.

When the doctor leaves, you take a step forward, but your feet feel leaden, hesitant. And for once, you don’t know what to say. This isn’t just Tony after a rough mission. This is your husband, and he doesn’t know you.

Finally, you muster the courage and approach the bed, offering him a soft, tentative smile. “Hey there, stranger.”

He looks up, his gaze sharp but confused, and something in his eyes flickers with a shade of recognition—a spark that leaves you hoping. But then he blinks, and it’s gone.

“Do I, uh, know you?” His tone is polite, curious, but there’s a guardedness to it, as if he’s unsure if he’s supposed to recognize you. You don’t miss the way his eyes dart over you, taking you in, and a pang of sadness tugs at your heart as you realize he’s assessing you the way he might a stranger.

You laugh softly, forcing down the lump in your throat. “You could say that. I’m…” You hesitate, wondering if it’s too much to say it outright, but the words slip out before you can stop them. “I’m your wife.”

His eyebrows shoot up, and he stares at you, stunned. “My wife?”

“Yes.” You smile, more gently this time, as though that will ease him into the idea. “For almost three years now.”

Tony blinks, and you can see his mind racing, struggling to process this unexpected piece of information. He gives a weak chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Damn. I…you’re telling me I’m married to you?”

His shock is genuine, and for a moment, a bubble of laughter escapes you. It’s that classic Tony Stark reaction—equal parts disbelief and awe, as if he can’t quite believe his good luck.

“Yes,” you say again, and this time, there’s a hint of amusement in your voice. “You managed to convince me somehow.”

He raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a lopsided grin that’s both endearing and achingly familiar. “Wow. I must be one hell of a salesman.”

“Oh, you are.” The laughter fades from your voice as you take a step closer, unable to resist the need to be nearer to him, even if he doesn’t remember you right now. “You’re the best.”

For a moment, he studies you, his gaze flickering with something like curiosity, maybe even admiration. It’s a glimmer of the old Tony, the man who made you feel like the only person in the room, no matter the crowd or chaos. But here, with him looking at you as a stranger might, there’s something raw and beautiful about it, too. He’s falling in love with you all over again, right in front of your eyes.

“Well, I guess I should feel lucky,” he murmurs, a faint smile playing on his lips. “If you’re half as amazing as you look, then…yeah. Lucky guy.”

The words make your heart flutter, and despite everything, you feel a warmth spread through you, easing the tightness in your chest. He’s still Tony, even if he doesn’t know it yet.

“Want to know a little about us?” you ask, hoping that maybe, somehow, it will trigger something—some hidden memory or spark of recognition.

He nods, settling back against the pillow. “Please. Enlighten me. I’m curious how a guy like me managed to marry someone like you.”

“Well,” you start, a smile tugging at your lips as you pull up a chair beside him. “For starters, we didn’t exactly get along at first.”

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Did I say something to offend you?”

“You…may have.” You grin, remembering the banter, the stubborn disagreements, the sparks that seemed to ignite every time you were in a room together. “You were cocky, stubborn, a little arrogant.”

He chuckles. “That sounds about right.”

“But somehow,” you continue, your voice softening, “you managed to break down all my walls. You made me feel like I was the only person who mattered, even if you acted like you were just being yourself.”

His gaze lingers on you, and there’s a warmth there, something cautious but undeniably present. “I’m sorry I don’t remember that.”

“Don’t be.” You place a gentle hand over his, feeling the faint warmth of his skin against yours. It’s a familiar gesture, one you’ve done a thousand times before, but this time, it feels different—new, almost shy. “You’ll remember. And until you do, we’ll make new memories. Starting right now.”

He looks down at your hand on his, and you can see the faintest flush of color in his cheeks. For a man who’s usually so sure of himself, so confident in every move he makes, it’s endearing to see him look almost…nervous.

“So, tell me more about this…our life,” he says, his voice soft, like he’s trying to hold onto the pieces he has left.

“Well,” you say, smiling as you think of the little things that make up your life together. “We spend a lot of time in the lab together, actually. Even if you’re always tinkering, working on some new project, you always have time for me.”

“Do I? Sounds like a good husband.” There’s a touch of pride in his voice, and it makes your heart ache a little—because he doesn’t even know the half of it yet.

“A very good husband,” you murmur, meeting his gaze with all the love you feel for him. “The best.”

And there it is—that flicker in his eyes, like he’s starting to see it, to feel it. It’s as if, for just a moment, he knows you, feels that connection.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, his voice rough. “For being here. For…all of this.”

You squeeze his hand gently, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill over. “You’re my husband, Tony. I’d do anything for you.”

And as you sit there, hands entwined, you realize that even if he has to fall in love with you all over again, you’ll be right here, waiting.

The drive back from the hospital is quiet, but not uncomfortably so. Tony stares out the window, taking in the blur of city lights as you weave through the streets toward your shared home. Occasionally, you catch him glancing at you, his expression somewhere between awe and disbelief, as if he’s still wrapping his head around the idea that you’re his wife, that he’s returning to a life he doesn’t remember but that he somehow…wants.

When you finally pull into the long driveway leading up to your home, his eyebrows shoot up. Stark Tower looms ahead, its sleek, modern design stark against the night sky. The iconic "STARK" sign gleams with familiar grandeur. He lets out a low whistle, clearly impressed, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes, too—something like pride.

“So, this is…our place?” he asks, a note of disbelief in his voice.

You can’t help but laugh. “Yeah. Well, your place, technically. But I’ve definitely made it my own.”

Tony chuckles, the sound low and warm, and you’re reminded of all the times he’s teased you about “taking over” his tower with touches of your personality: the cozy reading nook in his office, the garden on the roof you insisted on installing, even the art pieces scattered throughout the building. And despite his teasing, he’d always seemed proud of how much of yourself you’d poured into his space.

“Well,” he says, stepping out of the car, “if you’re half as great at interior design as you are at, uh, marrying billionaires, I think I’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

“Oh, just you wait,” you say with a playful smirk as you lead him inside.

The entryway is a testament to the sleek, modern style Tony’s known for—polished floors, clean lines, an air of sophistication mixed with warmth. But there are little touches here and there that mark it as your home too: framed photos from the missions you’ve tackled together, a throw blanket draped over the couch, even a small shelf of books beside the entrance to the main living area.

Tony follows you, his gaze flitting over each detail with that trademark Stark intensity, taking it all in as if he’s studying a new project. When his eyes land on a photo of the two of you at a beach, he pauses. You remember that day so vividly: you were laughing, caught in a candid moment as he held you close, your hair whipped by the wind.

“Is that…us?” he asks, a softness in his voice that tugs at your heart.

“Yeah,” you say, stepping closer to him. “A couple of years ago. We were on a vacation you forced me to take.”

“I forced you?” he repeats, quirking an eyebrow. “Was I…was I that difficult?”

“Only a little,” you tease, nudging him gently. “You hated the idea of not working for a few days. But we made the best of it.”

His lips curve into a small smile as he stares at the photo a moment longer before turning his gaze back to you. “I look…happy. Really happy.”

“You were,” you say softly. “We both were.”

He swallows, his gaze lingering on you, and for a moment, you can almost feel the weight of all the memories he’s lost. But there’s a warmth in his eyes, a flicker of something that feels like a connection—even if it’s new to him.

You clear your throat and gesture toward the hallway. “Come on. I’ll show you the rest.”

You lead him down the hall, pointing out the various rooms, each one filled with a mix of his tech and your touches: the library with shelves overflowing with both your favorite books, the small lounge you use for watching movies together, and finally, your bedroom.

When you open the door, he stands in the doorway, taking it in. The room is a blend of Tony’s sophisticated taste and your own comfortable style, the soft lighting casting a warm glow over the neatly made bed, the nightstand stacked with a few of Tony’s reading materials, and the little tray of lotions and skincare items you keep on your side.

“This…feels nice,” he murmurs, his gaze sweeping over the room. He takes a step inside, running a hand over the bedspread, almost as if testing its texture. “I don’t know why, but I feel…calm here.”

You smile, moving to stand beside him. “It’s our space. Your favorite spot after a long day, whether you’d admit it or not. You always said it’s the one place that lets you truly relax.”

He chuckles, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “Yeah, well, if you say so. I…believe you.”

For a moment, there’s silence, and you can feel the weight of the day settling over both of you. He’s exhausted, and so are you.

“Do you…want to rest?” you ask, realizing he might be overwhelmed with all of this new information.

“Actually, I think I’d like to keep looking around,” he says, a little sheepishly. “I just…don’t want to miss anything. It feels like I’ve lost a huge chunk of my life, and I want to piece it together, however I can.”

You nod, understanding. You feel a pang of sadness but try to hide it. “Well, I’ll be here. We can take it slow. One room at a time.”

Together, you move back down the hallway, stopping in the kitchen next. Tony’s gaze catches on the coffee maker, and he raises his eyebrows with a look of genuine excitement. “Please tell me I still drink coffee.”

You laugh, crossing your arms with a smirk. “Oh, you drink enough coffee to fuel a small army. In fact…” You open a cabinet, revealing an impressive array of coffee beans, grounds, and Tony’s prized espresso machine. “You’re particular about it. You like to experiment.”

He nods, visibly impressed. “I see I have good taste. I’d like to think I’m a genius when it comes to coffee.”

“Among other things,” you reply, grinning as you start to brew a fresh pot, the familiar hum of the machine filling the room.

As the coffee brews, Tony leans against the counter, watching you with that spark of interest you remember so well. But now, it feels new, raw, as if he’s falling for you all over again and doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.

“So,” he says, a playful glint in his eyes, “you said we didn’t get along at first. How did I change your mind?”

You chuckle, handing him a mug and savoring the warmth as you lean back against the counter beside him. “It wasn’t any one thing. You…surprised me. I kept expecting you to be this arrogant genius with no time for anyone, but then you started showing up at my door with random inventions, making coffee runs at three a.m. with me, and bringing me little gifts from your travels.” You smile, remembering each moment as if it’s engraved in your memory. “You just…wore me down, I guess.”

He takes a sip of his coffee, mulling over your words, and you see the warmth in his expression, a flicker of understanding, even if it’s only a shadow of his former self.

“Well, then,” he says, his tone soft, “I’m glad I wore you down.”

His words hang in the air between you, and for a moment, the kitchen feels smaller, more intimate, filled with a sense of closeness that’s been there since the moment you met but now feels refreshingly new.

Tony shifts his weight, looking suddenly unsure. “So…do I get to sleep in our bed tonight?”

You raise an eyebrow, smiling a little as you nod. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As you walk back to the bedroom together, side by side, you feel a quiet sense of peace settle over you. Tony might not remember you—at least not yet—but he’s here, and he’s yours, and somehow, you’ll find a way to rebuild together.

You slip into bed, settling under the covers, and Tony follows suit, lying beside you with a soft sigh. After a moment’s hesitation, he reaches over, his hand brushing against yours beneath the covers. You entwine your fingers with his, and even though he doesn’t remember the countless nights you’ve fallen asleep like this, it feels natural.

“Goodnight,” he whispers, his voice soft.

“Goodnight, Tony,” you murmur back, your heart swelling with hope.

As the city lights outside cast a gentle glow across the room, you lie there, hand in hand, feeling the warmth of him beside you. And for the first time since the accident, you feel a flicker of reassurance.

The days start to blur together in a rhythm that feels both familiar and new. Tony’s memory isn’t coming back all at once, but he’s recovering it in little flashes, bits and pieces of who he used to be, of who you are to each other. And even though some of these memories are fleeting, almost insignificant, they build something solid between you—something that’s real and growing stronger with every passing moment.

It begins with breakfast one morning.

You’re standing at the stove, cooking eggs and listening to Tony talk about his latest gadget idea. He’s been getting back into work, tinkering here and there in the lab, and he always comes out in the morning with some grand plan or concept. It’s one of the things you’ve missed most—his enthusiasm, his endless curiosity, the way he lights up when he talks about creating something new. You smile, flipping the eggs onto plates and setting them on the counter.

“You know, I don’t think I ever realized how much you put up with me,” he says, leaning against the counter with that lopsided grin that makes your heart skip a beat. “All my late nights, random ideas, and, uh, probably a few accidental explosions.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes as you hand him his plate. “Oh, trust me, I’ve put up with plenty. But you make it worth it.”

He takes a bite, nodding as though savoring the taste. “You know…this feels familiar,” he says after a moment, frowning slightly. “Mornings like this. I used to sit here and watch you cook, didn’t I?”

“Every morning you didn’t have your face buried in a new project,” you reply softly, watching him carefully.

He pauses, that spark of recognition in his eyes growing, as if he’s trying to hold onto the memory, to make it solid. And then he’s looking at you, really looking at you, with a tenderness that feels almost shy. It’s a vulnerability you rarely see from Tony, and it makes your heart ache in the best way.

“I think I remember something else,” he murmurs, stepping around the counter to stand in front of you. “I remember sitting here and…thinking about how lucky I was.”

Your breath catches as he reaches out, his fingers grazing your cheek, tracing the curve of your jaw. His touch is tentative, almost reverent, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Tony…” you whisper, feeling your pulse quicken.

He leans in, his lips brushing yours in a soft, lingering kiss that’s both familiar and electrifying, like he’s rediscovering you for the first time. His hand moves to the small of your back, pulling you closer as his mouth moves against yours, slow and intense, like he’s savoring every second. When he pulls back, his eyes are darker, filled with something that looks like a mix of wonder and awe.

“I don’t remember everything,” he says softly, his voice rough, “but I don’t think I need to. This feels right.”

You smile, threading your fingers through his hair. “It is right,” you murmur, leaning up to kiss him again.

The memory flashes continue over the next few days, each one bringing him closer to the person he used to be. They’re small, fleeting things—a song that triggers a faint memory of a dance in the living room, the scent of his cologne reminding him of the night you first told him you loved him. Each one brings with it a sense of déjà vu, a feeling that tugs at his heart and pulls him closer to you.

One evening, you’re both sitting on the couch, your legs draped over his lap as you watch a movie together. It’s an old favorite, something you’ve watched countless times, and Tony seems to relax into the familiarity of it. His hand absentmindedly traces patterns on your thigh, and you can feel his warmth, his closeness, and it makes you feel grounded, steady.

Suddenly, he chuckles, looking down at your legs. “I remember this. You used to do this all the time. You’d kick off your shoes and practically sprawl across the couch.”

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “And you used to pretend to be annoyed, even though you secretly loved it.”

He raises an eyebrow, that playful smirk you know so well tugging at his lips. “Oh, I’m sure I did.”

You shift, leaning closer to him, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. There’s something about the way he’s looking at you, his eyes filled with both affection and curiosity, that makes you feel bold, like you’re rediscovering each other in a way that’s fresh and exhilarating.

“Can I tell you something?” you murmur, your voice soft.

“Anything,” he says, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“When we first met, I thought you were this…impossible genius with no time for anyone,” you confess, your fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. “But then you’d look at me like this, with this softness, like I was the only person in the world.”

He leans closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Maybe you are.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, and before you can respond, his mouth is on yours, capturing you in a kiss that’s anything but shy. It’s slow and deep, his hands sliding up your back as he pulls you into him, your bodies pressed together, fitting perfectly. His kisses are gentle yet intense, each one leaving you breathless, as if he’s trying to make up for all the lost time, all the memories he doesn’t yet have but that you both feel so deeply.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing heavily, hearts racing. He smiles, that teasing glint in his eyes as he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Why do I feel like I’ve kissed you a million times?” he murmurs, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. “Like I can’t get enough?”

“Maybe because you have,” you reply, your voice barely a whisper. “And I’ll never get enough of you, either.”

He chuckles, a sound that’s warm and filled with affection as he kisses you again, softer this time, more lingering, like he’s savoring every second. His lips move slowly over yours, his hands gentle as they cradle your face, as if he’s memorizing the feel of you, the way you fit together.

Over the next few days, the memories come more frequently, little fragments of your life that make him pause, that bring a flicker of recognition to his eyes. Sometimes it’s just a look he gives you, a soft smile that feels so familiar it makes your heart ache. Other times, it’s a touch—a hand on your back, a gentle brush of his fingers against yours—that reminds you of all the little ways he’s shown his love over the years.

And every time he remembers something, he falls in love with you a little more.

One night, as you’re both lying in bed, you reach over to turn off the light, but Tony stops you, his hand catching yours. He turns to you, his gaze soft but intense, filled with a depth of emotion that takes your breath away.

“I might not remember everything yet,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing your cheek, “but I know that I love you. I don’t need memories to know that.”

You feel a lump in your throat, a warmth spreading through you that’s both comforting and thrilling. “I love you, too, Tony,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his hand. “No matter what. I always have, and I always will.”

His smile is tender, filled with a gratitude that makes you realize just how lucky you both are, how strong this connection is between you. He leans in, kissing you with a softness that melts away all the uncertainty, all the fear that’s lingered since the accident.

And as you lie there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, you realize that this isn’t just a return to the life you had before. It’s something new, something deeper and more meaningful, a love that’s growing stronger every day. It’s a love that doesn’t need memories to survive because it’s written into every touch, every glance, every kiss you share.

The morning Tony’s memories come flooding back, it feels both surreal and inevitable. He wakes up beside you, his gaze fixed on the ceiling for a long moment before he turns to look at you, his expression a mixture of wonder, relief, and something deeper—something vulnerable. When he speaks, his voice is low, as if he’s afraid of breaking the spell.

“I remember everything,” he murmurs, his hand finding yours beneath the covers. His thumb traces gentle patterns on your knuckles, as though he’s grounding himself in the reality of the present. “Every detail, every moment. I remember…you.”

You blink away the tears that threaten to spill over, smiling as you reach up to cup his face. “You’re really back,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I missed you.”

He gives a soft laugh, his hand covering yours as he presses his forehead to yours. “You never really lost me, you know? And I… I missed you, too. Even when I didn’t remember all of it, I knew. I knew you were everything to me. I'd always fall for you.”

You fall into his arms, both of you holding each other tightly, like you’re afraid to let go. And in that embrace, you feel the weight of all those lost days lift, leaving only a warmth that radiates between you. He’s here, fully, and the two of you are whole again.

Later, you’re curled up on the couch together, a blanket draped over both of you, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders as you cuddle into his side. You’ve both been talking, recounting memories, laughing at the more amusing fragments that came back to him in flashes. And then, an idea strikes you.

“Tony,” you say, glancing up at him with a mischievous grin, “there’s something you need to see.”

He raises an eyebrow, smirking as he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “Oh, really? And what might that be?”

You grab your phone from the coffee table, pulling up a series of videos you took during his days without memories. Each one holds moments that, at the time, you’d been scared would be all you had left—little fragments of his affection, of the new ways he showed his love for you while he was rediscovering himself.

“Brace yourself,” you say, hitting play on the first video.

In it, Tony is sitting across from you at the kitchen table, his eyes sleepy and his hair a mess. He’s holding a mug of coffee, and he looks up at you with the softest, most adoring expression, blinking slowly like he can barely believe you’re real. “You’re so pretty,” he says, his voice a murmur, his gaze fixed on you as if you’re the only thing that matters in the entire world. “How did I get so lucky?”

The Tony beside you lets out a surprised laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever looked that…well, cuddly before.”

“Oh, that’s just the beginning,” you say, grinning as you play the next video.

This one shows him lying on the couch, his head in your lap as you’re reading a book. He’s practically burrowed into you, his arms wrapped around your waist, his face buried against your stomach. Every now and then, he looks up at you with these wide, affectionate eyes, and even without memories, he’s the picture of absolute adoration.

“Is that…me?” Tony asks, a touch of disbelief in his voice as he watches himself look up at you like that. “I’m like a…like a giant puppy.”

“Oh, you were,” you laugh, rubbing his arm affectionately. “I have so many videos like this. You’d barely let me out of your sight. I think losing your memories made you even clingier.”

He snorts, shaking his head as he pulls you closer. “Well, can you blame me? I mean, look at you. Not remembering you was bad enough—I guess I was just making sure I didn’t forget you again.”

The next video is of him in bed, lying half-asleep with his arm stretched out, reaching for you. His voice, groggy and low, calls your name softly, and you hear yourself laugh from behind the camera as you step into view. When you do, he pulls you into the bed, wrapping his arms around you like he never wants to let go. He sighs in contentment, pressing his lips to your forehead and murmuring something unintelligible, and even watching it now, you feel that familiar warmth spread through your chest.

Tony, watching beside you, is silent for a long moment, his gaze softened as he watches himself cling to you like that. When the video ends, he turns to you, a tenderness in his expression that takes your breath away.

“I can’t believe I didn’t remember you,” he whispers, his fingers brushing your cheek. “But even when I couldn’t…I needed you.”

You place a hand over his, smiling softly. “I think a part of you did remember, in a way. You were still you—maybe a little cuddlier than usual,” you tease, “but you were still you.”

His lips curve into a playful grin. “So, I was clingy, huh? Was I any good at it?”

“Oh, you were very good at it,” you say, laughter bubbling up. “I mean, I kind of got used to waking up with you practically draped over me. I’m almost going to miss it.”

His grin widens, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his lap. “Well, if you liked clingy Tony, I think I can accommodate,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear as he tightens his hold on you.

You giggle, curling your arms around his neck as he presses a series of soft, lingering kisses along your jaw. “Mmm, maybe I did like clingy Tony,” you whisper, your fingers threading through his hair.

He chuckles, his lips trailing down to your neck, his hands running up and down your sides as he nuzzles into you, his warmth enveloping you. “Well then, Mrs. Stark, it looks like you’re in luck.”

His mouth finds yours, and he kisses you deeply, his hands gentle but insistent as he pulls you closer. The kiss is soft and tender, but there’s an intensity to it, a passion that feels even stronger now that he has all his memories back. It’s like he’s making up for lost time, savoring every second, every touch, every shared breath.

When he pulls back, he leans his forehead against yours, his voice a low murmur. “I don’t think I could ever let you go again,” he says, his hands sliding to your waist as he holds you close. “Every second without you felt…wrong, somehow. Now that I know everything, it’s like my whole world is back.”

You smile, brushing your fingers along his jaw as you gaze into his eyes. “Then don’t let go,” you whisper, your heart racing as he closes the small distance between you again, his mouth meeting yours in a kiss that’s both familiar and exhilarating.

soft Tony is just a baby <3 if you liked the story leave a like and a reblog and drop a follow if you want to read more!

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captinamericashusband · 2 months ago

Text

Flirt | Tony Stark x Male!Reader

A/N: Omg a fanfic that isn't about Steve Rogers?!?! Hope you enjoy :) Also, school is starting soon but I will try to write as much as I can. I actually do find writing these enjoyable. Fanfic writing is different but fun. It's nice to use my English somewhere aside from just writing essays 🥹.

P.S. Listen to this song right now or I will hurt you:

Flirt

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: During a night out with his close friend, Y/N encounters Tony Stark and they immediately hit it off. Get that bag, Y/N!

Warnings: Alcohol use

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"Are you sure about this, Sal?" Y/N said, uncertainty laced in his voice.

"100% sure. You need to get your mind off of that cheating douchebag." Sal responded with no hesitation. A small sigh came from Y/N's mouth. He knew deep down that she was right.

After finding out his ex had been cheating on him, Y/N had rotted in his house for almost two weeks, completely isolating himself from the outside world. Only today, when his closest friend Sal practically broke his front door down, had he been freed from his lovelorn pitying.

Now, Sal was forcing Y/N out for a much-needed night out in town, determined to help him forget about his troubles, at least for just a couple of hours. The two were currently headed to one of the liveliest bars downtown, with the promise of copious amounts of alcohol and good company.

"Look, I know this might not be what you want right now," Sal said, giving Y/N a reaffirming pat on the shoulder. "But, just trust me. We're going to enjoy the night, the drinks and the people, and," Sal's head turned slightly, giving a Y/N a small smirk, "we might even find you a nice man there."

Y/N turned downward and began shaking his head to hide the smile forming on his face – he ultimately failed. "Yeah, yeah alright." While his very recent relationship's ending was abrupt and messy, the idea of finding someone new was very enticing. His previous boyfriend was, according to Sal, "hot trash", so he believed tonight could be the chance to find a truly suitable partner for him.

"That's the spirit," Sal grinned, tightly hugging Y/N's side. "Now let's go and make very questionable decisions."

Y/N chuckled despite himself, softly pushing Sal off of him. Maybe tonight would be when he'd truly move on.

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According to Y/N's inner monologue, the bar itself was quite lovely. It was a quaint, hole-in-the-wall establishment yet very populated. People occupied the bar's booths in large groups, their conversations filling the atmosphere with a nice volume. The warm and soft lighting gave the space a slight touch of intimacy. As he continued looking around, Y/N grimaced as he glanced toward a corner of the bar and saw a couple making out, their hands touching in places that were definitely inappropriate for a public space. However, despite seeing the touchy-feely pair, Y/N could tell tonight would be somewhat fun.

The two settled down on two barstools at the bar's front. Sal, being the more outgoing of the one, wasted no time waving down the bartender. "Two tequila shots, please," she said with a grin. It was a tradition for the two to begin a night out with tequila shots – a nice ritual that set the tone for the night.

The bartender slid two shot glasses filled to the brim with tequila. The two each grabbed a glass, Sal raising hers and toasting, "to a night of fun and forgetting."

Y/N raised his also, saying, "Cheers to whatever comes our way." The two smiled at each other, clinking their glasses before downing their drinks in one swift gulp.

Y/N's face scrunched in pain upon swallowing. The feeling of tequila was familiar to Y/N as he and Sal have spent multiple nights out together. However, he never grew as much of a tolerance as her for the throat-burning it caused when ingesting it. He coughed slightly, but laughed, a tingly feeling spreading throughout his chest.

Sal leaned over, slightly nudging Y/N's elbow. "So, what'll it be next for us? Should we try something strong or should steady ourselves for tonight?"

Y/N thought deeply for a moment before responding. "Let's try something different," he said, feeling bolder. "How about margaritas?"

Sal laughed. "Alright, margaritas it is. Don't blame me though for how shit-faced you might get."

Y/N rolled his eyes, but couldn't prevent the smile from forming on his face. "I guess we'll see," he replied, feeling the anticipation from what the night has to offer.

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Sal and Y/N had 3 margaritas and 4 tequila shots in each and were already a tad inebriated. Despite the bar being quite packed, their egregiously loud laughter carried around the room, causing people to look at them with slight annoyance.

Suddenly, Sal's eyes widened and she began choking on her drink. "Holy shit, bitch," she semi-yelled, catching Y/N's attention. "Don't look behind you, but Tony 'Richboy' Stark just came in with a really hot dude."

Y/N wasn't the type to listen to directions he was told – especially when inebriated – so despite Sal's warnings, he immediately looked. And Sal was correct. There, unmistakably, was Tony Stark clad in a simple tux with a black tie near the bar's entrance. Next to him was an equally attractive man, taller, with blonde hair and broad shoulders. Upon second glance, Y/N realized the other man was the Captain America.

Y/N's eyes had wandered on Tony while he was surveying the bar's interior. For a brief moment, their gazes met under the glow of the bar's warm lighting. Y/N quickly looked away. However, his curiosity got the better of him and he glanced once more. Tony's eyes were still on him, firm but with an undertone of curiosity. Y/N wanted to so desperately look away, but their stare lingered. The world seemed to fade during their intimate stare-off. A palpable tension was shared between them, and it wasn't until Tony flashed Y/N a small smile before heading to a vacant booth that it vanished.

A slight slap on Y/N's arm broke him from his trance. "Dude! I literally told you not to look and guess what you did? Look!" Y/N had to quiet down Sal's loud reprimanding voice, afraid a certain someone would hear her. She regained her composure after a few minutes of quiet yelling and continued drinking her third margarita. "Okay, but he was definitely checking you out," Sal slurred with a volume even a person outside the bar could hear.

A loud cough erupted from Y/N's mouth, an attempt to drown out Sal's voice. "He was absolutely not," he protested, taking a sip of his drink. "He was just checking out the place, and our eyes coincidentally met when he was looking at the front of the bar."

"Oh, Y/N," Sal said, slowly shaking her head. "I know you may be slow in the head–" Y/N was about to object before Sal put a finger to his lips, effectively shutting his mouth. "But you'd practically have to be blind to not notice him eyeing you like a piece of fine meat."

"Okay, but..." Y/N was at a loss for words, partly for the fact he was intoxicated but also because Tony Stark was definitely checking him out. Their stare-off lasted a little too long to be considered anything but friendly. "Wait, why were you looking at him I thought we weren't supposed to look?"

"Well, Y/N," Sal said, sloppily standing from the bar stool and grabbing her purse. "I will be going to the bathroom right now. I hope nothing significant will occur during my absence, like, say, a certain Avenger approaching you while you're sat here all alone." She winked, her gait wobbly from the alcohol.

Before Y/N could yell at her to return, she already turned the bar's corner into the restrooms. Y/N silently cursed, downing his margarita before ordering another one. His heart was beating fast, and he glanced towards where Tony was sitting. As if on cue, Tony looked up from his conversation with Captain America, catching his gaze. This time, Tony's smile widened, and he leaned in and whispered something to Steve. Y/N's pulse quickened. Then, Tony stood up from his booth and started towards Y/N. He quickly turned around, "fuck, fuck, fuck," he whispered under his breath.

Y/N could feel Tony's presence approaching. He radiated wealth, power, and overall playboy hubris with each step. As he drew closer, Y/N's anxiety reached a peak. He started drawing his focus away from the intimidating man, attempting to look very intently at the bar's collection of liquor. But Tony's sensation, magnetic as ever, couldn't be ignored by Y/N.

Tony sat on the barstool Sal was on before she left. Y/N felt his palms and the back of his knees becoming clammy, unsure if it was from the alcohol or the undeniably attractive billionaire beside him. It was probably the latter. Tony cleared his throat to catch the attention of the bartender. "I'll take a beer, please."

After Tony got his beer, an uncomfortable silence washed over the two men. Tony wasn't speaking and Y/N was too out of it to verbalize anything. Wasn't Tony – billionaire, playboy, philanthropist – Stark supposed to start their conversation, he silently thought. Suddenly getting very impatient, Y/N put the burden on himself to verbally approach Tony first. "I always thought you were a hard liquor person," Y/N's voice came out, evident in his speech that he was decently drunk.

Tony glanced at Y/N, a hint of amusement in his expression. "I've been trying to lay off the drinking for a while," he replied, taking a sip of his beer. "Only wimpy drinks for me tonight."

Y/N nodded, trying to focus on Tony's words despite his tipsiness. He could feel Tony's eyes on him, curious and unwavering. His gaze was intimidating but felt strangely warm at the same time.

Tony leaned in slightly, his tone teasing. "And what about you. I didn't peg you to be a margarita guy."

Y/N smiled, his confidence from the liquid courage abating his nerves. "I like to keep 'em guessing, Mr. Stark." He took another sip of his margarita. "Only the good ones."

Tony's grin widened slightly. "Does that make me one of the 'good ones'?"

"That depends on how you treat me tonight," Y/N replied, his voice flirtier than he expected it to be.

Another silence came after Y/N's words – a comfortable one, unlike the last time. Y/N sneaked a few glances towards Tony, finding him looking straight ahead bearing a small content smile.

"So what brings you here with" – Y/N gestured towards Steve – "that hunk of a man," Y/N asked, cutting through the quiet.

Tony set down his beer. "Well, I just got off a very important business meeting and decided to head here to unwind. Heard this place had some...interesting company." He then looked towards Y/N. "Capsicle's here as my plus one."

Y/N felt his cheeks go red. "'Interesting company,' huh?" he echoed, his nervousness returning again.

Tony nodded, his expression playful. "Very interesting," he reaffirmed. "And it seems," Tony picked up his beer, gesturing it towards Y/N. "I've made the right choice."

A sudden cough erupted from Y/N's mouth, elicited by Stark's notorious innate flirtiness. "You can't just say that, Tony. We just met and you don't even know my name."

Tony chuckled, clearly amused by Y/N's reaction. "You're right," he admitted, leaning back slightly. "But I don't need to know your name to recognize you're someone worth talking to." He took another quick sip of his beer. "Names are just a formality anyway. I'd rather know the person behind the name."

Y/N felt a mix of embarrassment and intrigue. Despite knowing of Tony's infamous charismatic boldness, it felt nerve-wracking being on the receiving end of it. It was a strange experience. "You surely know how to keep someone on their toes, Mr. Stark."

Tony smiled, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "So, whaddya say? Do I get your name or do I have to keep guessing for a little longer?"

Y/N hesitated briefly before deciding to play along with Tony's game. "Keep guessing, lover-boy."

Tony's eyebrows raised, clearly enjoying the challenge and the nickname. "Let's see..." he said, his face stern with faux concentration. "You strike me as a Jay. Or a Phil." He watched Y/N's expression closely, trying to see if there was any hint he was on the right track.

Y/N couldn't help but laugh. "Nice try, but you're way off. Guess again."

A small sigh came from Tony. "Dammit. I thought I almost had it," he said, feigning playful disappointment. "Okay, how about...Cameron? Or Mitchell?"

Y/N shook his head once more. "Nope. Not even close."

Tony leaned in closer, his smile turning into a small smirk. "Alright, I give up. What's your name, mystery man?"

Y/N also leaned in, relenting at Tony's surrender. "It's Y/N," he half-whispered. "But I did enjoy you guessing."

A genuine smile found itself on Tony's face. "Y/N, huh? I like it – it suits you." He raised his beer in a small toast. "To new friends, and to keeping things interesting."

Y/N clinked his margarita with Tony's brown beer bottle. "To new friends," he repeated.

"So," Tony said, taking another sip of his bottle. "Tell me more about yourself."

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Tony and Y/N talked for what seemed like hours, the passage of time becoming irrelevant to them. Y/N went on an extended rant about his ex-boyfriend, Tony listening intently, which Y/N very much appreciated. Tony in turn told Y/N about Avengers and Stark Industries business. Y/N tried hard to understand Tony's talks on logistics, all for the sake of how Tony's eyes lit up with interest when talking about the nitty-gritty of his company.

After I while, their conversation started dwindling down. The initial flirtiness settled down to a comfortable silence. The buzz from the alcohol had faded into a pleasant comfort that made Y/N feel warm inside. Y/N looked around the bar, noticing how the crowded place had thinned out. "Looks like we cleared the place out, huh?"

Tony set his beer bottle down, stretching his arms. "Guess we did. Time flies when you have fun. Or when you're with a cute person."

A warmth covered Y/N's face red. "It's been nice talking to you, Tony." He checked the time on his phone, eyes widening when he saw the time. "It's getting quite late. Me and Sal...where is that girl anyways?" Sal's entire existence completely slipped from Y/N's mind.

"Looks like Cap and your friend are hitting it off quite well." Y/N glanced towards the booth Steve was sitting in. There was very much indeed Sal chatting up a storm with Captain America. What surprised Y/N the most was that Steve actually enjoyed talking to her? He nodded, smile bright and charming as Sal's mouth moved continuously.

"Huh," Y/N mused. He looked towards Tony once more. Y/N wasn't quite sure how but Tony looked even more attractive since the last time he looked.

"I think it's time for us to call it a night, Y/N," Tony said, his voice slightly disappointed. Y/N also found himself unhappy as well. "Though, I'd like for us to see each other again. For margaritas or beer – or something stronger if you prefer." He pulled a sleek black business card from his pocket and handed it to Y/N.

"I'll take you up on that, Tony," Y/N replied, pocketing the card. Y/N stared softly at Tony, feeling a fluttery feeling in his chest. He noticed the closeness between them on the bar chairs.

Y/N hesitated for a brief moment, his mind racing with both excitement and nerves. The temptation to close the gap between them was overwhelming, and he could feel himself gravitating towards Tony.

Tony's gaze flickered towards Y/N's lips, seemingly understanding his intentions. Y/N felt a surge of confidence rush through him. He wanted this, and he knew damn well Tony did too. Without thinking further, Y/N closed the space between him and Tony, lips connecting in an intimate kiss.

Their lips started slowly at first – tentative as if testing the waters. But then Tony responded, pressing back with a gentle ferocity that made Y/N's stomach flutter. The kiss was slow and exploratory, full of curiosity and intrigue.

Y/N's eyes closed as he felt himself melt into Tony's touch. His hands found their way towards Tony's shoulders, linking them around and slightly grazing the fabric of his suit. Y/N could feel Tony's hands lightly caressing his waist, sending tingles around his entire body.

When they both pulled away, Y/N's eyes fluttered open and met Tony's, a mixture of surprise and fluster playing around both of their smiles.

"Wow," Y/N said, breathless. "That was unexpected."

"Yeah," Tony responded, sounding winded himself. "I definitely want to see you again now."

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Tony and Steve insisted on driving Y/N and Sal home, however, Y/N protested heavily against it. Sal was definitely on board with the idea but was drowned out by Y/N's persistent opposition.

After saying their goodbyes to the two Avengers, Y/N and Sal started on home. "So...," she began, sporting a toothy smile.

Y/N reciprocated her wide grin. "We'll debrief tomorrow."

FIN

A/N: Catch the Modern Family names 😼 Hope you enjoyed it!

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