#country boy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

loversrocktvgirl2 · 3 days ago

Text

my mini multiverse of madness…

Countryboy!Young!Tony AU x Reader

@dontwanttobeanamericanidiot

A/N- Disclaimer: He’s not like, a full fledged country boy, okay? Just read it and it’ll click

Precisely ten months, two weeks, and four days ago, Tony got himself arrested for possession of alcohol as a minor. Tony was a firm believer in the “it doesn’t matter what you do as long as you don’t get caught” philosophy, so he was rather disappointed in himself. And when his parents chastened him and he said he was disappointed in himself, he was being sincere. Maybe he wasn’t disappointed in himself in the way his parents figured he ought to be, but he was disappointed nonetheless. Not that it mattered much. They didn’t believe him anyway.

To be frank, this was not the first run-in Tony had had with the law, or the first kind of major screw-up that he’d managed to get himself into. Was it getting harder to keep it from getting out to the press? Yes. Yes, it was. But the Starks had a lot of money and a lot of power, and anyone frightened enough certainly didn’t want to expose them.

So Howard and Maria Stark came to the conclusion that it would be in everybody’s best interest if Tony were to go spend a year on a farm owned by a family friend. There would be a lot of manual labor involved, homeschooling, punishment for lack of manners, etc. Howard and Maria didn’t want to fix their son—they wanted someone else to fix him for them. Tony was sent off to a farm located in Coastal Plain, Georgia, to live with an older couple named Clyde and Dee on their farm for the next year.

Of course, Tony hated the arrangement at first. There wasn’t too much technology for him to play around with, and that was probably the biggest loss. There were no longer bodyguards for him to escape, but the rules here felt stricter than they had at home. No elbows on the table, lights off at 9:30, get out of bed the first time you’re woken up, the list went on and on. But he grew to like Clyde and Dee a whole lot. He liked driving the tractor down the rural roads, and he’d gotten used to waking up at the crack of dawn eventually. He didn’t wear the clothes he used to wear at home anymore, but he kept the band t-shirts and jeans. One of the things that had delighted him about the circumstances was that, while his parents hated him wearing jeans and layering flannels over band tees, this was a generally accepted element of dressing etiquette. He’d taken a liking to wearing overalls, and often wore long sleeved white t-shirts with his coral beige overalls and a cowboy hat.

The accent change had not escaped him. Tony had a tendency to talk “smart,” as Clyde would say. He was quick to jump in with a sarcastic comment, and Clyde was having none of that. Tony was always around Clyde and Dee, and eventually, some of the words they used, slang, and some of the ways they said certain words had slipped into his voice. He still had plenty of his own tone and vocabulary, of course, but he’d fallen in sync with them. And after ten months, two weeks, and four days of mainly hearing Georgian southern accents, it had become normalized for him.

You were the niece of Clyde and Dee. You didn’t live on a farm, but you were far from a city girl. And every year, without fail, for two weeks, you went and stayed with Clyde and Dee in August. They loved you, and had talked up your visit to Tony for weeks. They’d told him anecdotes about you (like that time you’d accidentally kidnapped a duck, which they ended up keeping and naming Blaartholomew, or about how you used to be scared of goats as a kid, the list went on and on), talked about how excited they were for your visit, and how he was going to “just love you” when he finally met you.

You showed up one afternoon in a beat up blue pickup truck, hair in a ponytail, wearing an open flannel shirt, jeans, and a Noah Kahan shirt. “Heya, Dee and Tony, take a look at what the cat dragged in!” Clyde called out to them in the house. Clyde stepped out onto the porch, Dee right beside him. Tony followed, not wanting to be left out, and also out of curiosity.

The second you got out of the car, you ran towards Clyde and Dee and into Clyde’s arms. After you’d hugged him, you hugged Dee. “I missed y’all!” your cheerful voice exclaimed. “Hey, you’re Tony, huh?” You asked him, and he nodded. “C’mere, Tony, I don’t bite.” You hugged him briefly, then returned your attention to Clyde and Dee. “I just got my normal bag, I’ma run and grab it.”

Tony’s heart stopped when you’d hugged him. You were a helluva lot prettier than he’d imagined. And you had some of the same charm that Clyde and Dee carried with them. Now, it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen pretty girls in his ten months, three weeks, and two days of living here—Clyde took him into town often to deliver things like blueberries, pecans, peanuts and such—but now you were going to be here living with them for two weeks. He was both excited and concerned. Excited, because he wanted to get to know you, and concerned, because he highly doubted that Clyde and Dee wanted him to get too close to their darling niece. And he understood that. He’d been brought here because he was a “problem child,” but he still wanted to get to know you.

Everyone sat down to have dinner at around 6 o’clock. Dee had made a casserole. “So, how have things been with you?” Clyde asked you as he dug into dinner. You all sat around a square table—you were across from Tony, and Clyde was across from Dee.

“Pretty good,” you said with a smile. “Volunteerin’ at the library, school, and things. Y’all been busy?”

Dee nodded as Clyde began to answer. “Sure have. But this fella here’s been a pretty big help,” he patted Tony on the back. Tony smiled.

“Tell me how you got about to gettin’ down here,” you said to Tony, trying to engage him in the conversation, as you lifted a forkful to your mouth.

Tony laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. “My parents wanted to get me into shape, I guess. Too much foolin’ around.” Your eyebrows raised only slightly, and you nodded. “Beer in the back of the car,” he shrugged.

“He’s been doin’ pretty well here, though,” Dee said with a smile, trying to lighten up the conversation a smidge. “Real helpful. I don’t have to carry as much as I used to, what with all these animals we’ve gotta feed. He carries things ‘round for me, does chores and such, I like havin’ him.”

You grinned. “Sounds like you’re fittin’ right in,” you commented.

“Yes ma’am,” Tony nodded with a playful smile.

You laughed. “Don’t call me ma’am—I’m no older than you.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The next day, Clyde needed to go deliver a couple cartons of blueberries to the market. You offered to do it, and he wasn’t surprised by this. You loved to drive the truck. “You sure about this though? Those cartons are real heavy,” Clyde warned.

“I’ll take Tony with me then,” you shrugged. “C’mon, Tony! We’re going for a ride.”

Tony looked up from his sheet of notebook paper (he had to do a little bit of homework over the summer—the details of the homeschooling arrangement his parents had created with Clyde and Dee were messy) and then looked over at Clyde, who waved him to the door. “Go on. You gotta help her carry the boxes. She wants to drive.”

Tony immediately got up and followed you out the door. The boxes were sitting on the porch, and the beaten up blue pickup truck was pulled up to the steps. “So…we’re loading the boxes?” Tony asked.

“Yeah, and then we’ll unload ‘em there, give ‘em over to Mr. Ryan, ‘nd drive back,” you said.

“Alright, let’s get to it.”

Tony and you lifted all of the cartons one by one and loaded them into the bed of the truck. You closed it, then climbed into the driver’s seat. He got in on the passenger’s side. He watched as you pulled away from the driveway and began heading down the country road.

“So, how long have you been coming here in the summers?” Tony asked you, trying to start a conversation.

You shrugged. “Maybe since I was eight or nine. About seven or eight years, I guess.”

“You like it here?” Tony asked.

“I love it,” you answered, a hint of a smile in your tone. “I know everyone here, everyone knows me. It’s so different from home, but it feels like another home? I don’t know how to explain it. I like the accents, the roads, the food, the everything. I wish I was here more than I am, if I’m honest.”

Tony smiled. It was quite heartwarming to see you speak so highly of the place.

“What about you, how do you like it?” you asked.

Tony exhaled, leaning his arm against the open window, letting the warm summer breeze ruffle his hair. "Y’know, if you’d asked me that about ten months ago, I’d have told you I hated it." He smirked a little. "Didn’t think I was built for the whole ‘early mornings, dirty hands’ kinda thing."

You chuckled. "And now?"

Tony tilted his head, thinking. "Now... it ain’t so bad. Clyde and Dee—they're real good people. And there’s somethin’ about this place that just slows everything down, makes things quieter. Gives you space to think."

You nodded, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye as you maneuvered the truck around a bend. "Yeah. That’s what I love about it too. Feels like the rest of the world don’t exist for a little while."

Tony hummed in agreement. For a few miles, the two of you just sat in comfortable silence, the sound of the wind and the truck’s tires against the gravel filling the space between words.

Then you grinned. "You’re startin’ to sound like one of us, you know."

Tony scoffed, but his smile betrayed him. "Think so?"

"Oh, definitely. The accent’s creepin’ in. Give it a few more months, you’ll be drinkin’ sweet tea and talkin’ ‘bout ‘fixin’ to go do somethin’ like you been here your whole life."

Tony laughed, shaking his head. "Guess there’s worse things."

You turned onto the main road into town, and Tony found himself wishing the drive were just a little longer. It was easy talking to you. Natural. Like he hadn’t spent the last ten months trying to prove he wasn’t some rich city kid who didn’t belong.

Maybe, for the first time in a long time, he felt like he actually did.

A couple of days later, Tony was lying in his bed, trying his hardest to fall asleep when you walked into his room, laid down on his bed, and rested your head on his side with your arm draped around him. “C’mon, get up,” you whispered to him.

“Well, you get comfortable quick, don’tcha?” Tony teased.

You gently slapped his arm. “C’mon, we’re goin’ out. You’re comin’ with me.”

“What are we gonna do?”

“We’re goin’ dancin’.”

The neon sign buzzed above the entrance of the bar, casting a warm glow over the dusty parking lot. Tony hesitated as you tugged him toward the door, your fingers wrapped around his wrist. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but I don’t exactly have two-steppin’ experience,” he pointed out, though he let you pull him inside anyway.

“That’s alright,” you grinned, leading him through the crowd. “I’ll teach ya.”

The place was packed, the wooden floor vibrating under the weight of cowboy boots tapping in rhythm to the music. A live band played on the small stage, the fiddle and steel guitar twanging through the speakers. The scent of beer, sweat, and warm summer air filled the space.

Tony glanced around, a little skeptical. This was a far cry from the sleek, high-end clubs he’d been used to back home. But then he looked at you—already swaying to the beat, eyes bright, completely in your element—and, well… maybe this wasn’t so bad.

“C’mon, city boy,” you teased, grabbing both of his hands and pulling him toward the dance floor.

He groaned. “You really want me to embarrass myself in front of all these people?”

“No one’s watchin’,” you promised, stepping in close. “Just follow my lead.”

You placed his hands where they needed to be—one on your waist, the other clasped with yours. Tony swallowed, suddenly a little too aware of the warmth of your body against his. “Alright,” he said, “but if I step on your toes, that’s on you.”

You laughed, beginning to move, and—miraculously—Tony found himself keeping up. It was simple at first, just a slow sway in time with the music, but then you nudged him into a proper rhythm, guiding him through the steps of a country waltz. He stumbled once or twice, but you didn’t let go, just kept smiling, encouraging.

“See? You’re a natural,” you teased.

Tony scoffed. “I think you’re just bein’ nice.”

“Nope,” you insisted, spinning under his arm before returning to him seamlessly. “You’ve got it in you. Just gotta stop thinkin’ so hard.”

Something about the way you said it made Tony’s breath catch for just a second. Stop thinking. Just be here. With you.

The music picked up, and suddenly, you were leading him into a faster spin, laughing as his eyes widened in surprise. But he caught on quickly, gripping your waist a little tighter as the two of you moved across the dance floor.

Maybe it was the music, or the whiskey-sweet air, or the way your smile lit up the whole damn room—but Tony Stark, the city boy who had never imagined himself at home in a place like this, found himself not wanting the night to end.

Retrograde… we’d shake the frame of your car

Now I know your name, but not who you are

It’s all okay, there ain’t a drop of bad blood

It’s all my love, you’ve got all my love

And when the song slowed again, and you stayed pressed close to him, your head leaning against his shoulder, he realized something else:

He didn’t want to let go.

Over the course of the next week, Tony spent more and more time with you. Clyde and Dee had noticed for sure, but they said nothing. Tony had grown on them greatly and they adored you, so as long as there was no “funny business,” they were willing to leave you alone.

The last night of your stay, you were sitting out on the porch by yourself, enjoying a little of the summer night. Tony came outside and sat beside you. “How‘s it goin’, Stark?” you asked casually.

“It’s alright,” Tony answered. “Kinda sucks you’re leaving, but it’s fine.”

You chuckled. “I never wanna leave here.”

“I don’t either.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence, looking up at the stars.

“Stars are brighter here, farther from the city,” you said. “I can’t tell what the fuck constellations I’m lookin’ at either way though.”

Tony laughed. Why did he need to leave this little taste of heaven in Georgia? He loved this. He loved it so much. And he felt a helluva lot more loved here than he did at home.

When Tony woke up in the morning, it was hell. He remembered you were leaving. Hell, you might already be gone. He sighed, and turned on the radio by his bedside table.

We once sang…

Retrograde, we’d shake the frame of your car

It all came back to him in that moment. This song, your dancing, every moment he’d ever shared with you. God, he was going to miss you. He didn’t have an address to write to, a phone number to call, and he hadn’t even had a proper goodbye. Tony shot up out of bed, grabbed a flannel shirt and through it on. He’d slept in his jeans and a t-shirt. “DEE! I’MA LEAVE FOR A QUICK SECOND, I’LL BE RIGHT BACK!!” Tony called as he ran out the door.

Dee hurried after him. “Tony! TONY! Where are you going??”

“I HAVE TO SAY GOODBYE AND GET HER NUMBER!” Tony yelled and hopped into the tractor before steering it onto the road and driving as fast as he could (which was not very fast. The tractor was pretty slow in the grand scheme of vehicles).

Dee chuckled to herself. Clyde appeared beside her. “What‘s he yellin’ ‘bout now?”

“Young love,” Dee replied with a smile.

Tony pulled the tractor into a parking spot in the train station. You’d rented a car when you came here, and he knew you’d take the train home. He ran into the building, frantically searching around for you.

At last, Tony’s eyes led him to your relaxed form, sitting on a bench, waiting. He ran towards you. “Y/N! Y/N. Hi. I…” his breathing was a little heavy from all the adrenaline. “IreallylikeyouandIwaswonderingifIcouldbychancegetyourphonenumber.”

You looked at him perplexed. “What did you say?”

“I…” Tony stared at you for a moment. “I really like you and I was wondering if I could get your phone number.”

Your face lit up. “Hell yeah.” You gently took his hand and scribbled your phone number on it.

Tony smiled at you. “Thanks.”

You nodded. “‘Course.”

The two of you watched as the train pulled into the station.

“That’s me.”

“Yeah.”

You pulled him to you and kissed him, on his lips, right in front of everyone at the train stop. When you pulled away, you smiled at him and said, “Bye, Stark.”

Tony was half in shock, but he managed to smile back and say, “Bye.”

You picked up your one bag and boarded the train, and Tony watched as it pulled away. In that moment, he’d never been more grateful the cops had caught him with beer in the back of his truck.

28 notes · View notes