#tony flirting with pepper | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amethystarachnid · 3 months ago

Note

I know it's very classic. Tony Stark x F!Reader. Office romance. Tony likes her and the reader is unaware of it. Tony gets very angry at a man who tries to flirt with the reader in the office and makes her uncomfortable, then informs him of his mistake. He drags his assistant to his room and while arguing, he lets it slip that he is in love with her.

OFFICE ROMANCE

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

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

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff, romance, rom-com

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.1k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): little spicy scenes at the end, nothing too explicit

ᯓ★ Part 2

ᯓ★ yeah I know the title sucks I didnt know what to name it lol

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

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 elevator ride to Tony Stark’s office is uneventful—until the doors slide open, and you step right into chaos.

“Where is she? Where’s my assistant? Oh my God, I’m dying.”

Tony Stark is dramatically draped over his desk, one hand clutching his chest, the other extended toward the heavens like he’s in a Shakespearean tragedy. You barely have time to react before he twists his head toward the elevator, eyes locking onto yours with laser focus.

“There you are,” he groans. “Y/N, I think this is it. This is the end. You’re going to have to plan my funeral. Make it something classy, but also extravagant. Maybe fireworks? A Viking funeral? I don’t know, you decide.”

You sigh and step inside, the doors sliding shut behind you. “What is it this time, Mr. Stark?”

At the sound of his title, he frowns. “Really? We’re doing the ‘Mr. Stark’ thing today? Thought we were past that, sweetheart.”

You ignore him and set your bag down at your desk, flipping through the folders left for you overnight. Tony is still sprawled across his desk, his theatrics undeterred by your lack of concern.

“I’m serious,” he insists. “I might actually die this time.”

You finally look up at him, arms crossed. “Is it reactor-related, or are you just being dramatic?”

He gasps, placing a hand over his arc reactor. “I am never dramatic.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Okay, fine, maybe I’m a little dramatic. But you were late this morning.”

You glance at the clock. “I was not late.”

“You were late to me,” he says, pointing accusingly. “Do you know what happens when you’re not here? Bad things. Boring things. Pepper makes me do paperwork, and Happy refuses to let me take the suit out for a spin at seven in the morning.”

Your lips twitch, but you suppress the smile. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark. I didn’t realize my presence was so vital to your survival.”

He lifts his head, expression serious. “Y/N, I don’t think you understand. You are the glue holding my fragile existence together.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Without you, I am but a billionaire genius playboy philanthropist adrift, lost at sea, doomed to perish in the harsh, unforgiving corporate world.”

“You are so full of it,” you mutter, grabbing your tablet to check his schedule.

Tony watches you, chin propped up in one hand. He does this a lot—just looks at you like you’re the most fascinating thing in the room, even when you’re doing something as mundane as scheduling meetings and reading emails. But you don’t notice.

You never notice.

And it’s driving him insane.

Tony Stark is in love with you.

Painfully, ridiculously, stupidly in love with you. And he’s not subtle about it, either. At least, he doesn’t think he is. He finds reasons to keep you around, finds excuses to talk to you, makes up the dumbest emergencies just to get your attention—and yet, somehow, you remain oblivious.

It’s almost impressive, really.

But also aggravating.

Tony sighs, rubbing his hands down his face before dramatically throwing himself back in his chair. “Okay, what’s on the agenda today, darling?”

You scroll through your tablet. “You have a meeting with Pepper at ten—”

“Cancel it.”

“You cannot cancel on Pepper.”

“Fine,” he grumbles. “What else?”

“You have a tech demonstration at two, a conference call with the board at four—”

“Cancel that too.”

You sigh. “Tony.”

“Oh, now it’s Tony?” He smirks. “See, I knew you liked me.”

“I tolerate you,” you correct, setting your tablet down. “And you are going to that board meeting, whether you like it or not.”

“Fine, but only if you’re there,” he says, pointing at you. “I refuse to suffer alone.”

You roll your eyes but nod. “I’ll be there.”

Tony grins, far too pleased with himself. He’s made you sit in on dozens of meetings that had nothing to do with your job, just because he likes having you there. He tells himself it’s because you keep him sane. That you make the long, boring hours more bearable.

But if he’s being honest, it’s just because he likes looking at you.

He likes the way your lips press together when you’re concentrating, the way your nose scrunches up when he says something stupid. He likes the way your eyes soften when you talk to him, even when you’re exasperated. He likes you. God, he likes you.

And yet, you remain completely, utterly unaware.

Tony watches as you type something into your tablet, your brows furrowed in concentration. He wonders what would happen if he just said it. If he just leaned across the desk, took your hands in his, and said—

“Mr. Stark?”

He snaps out of it. “Huh?”

“You okay? You spaced out.”

Tony clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. Fine. Totally fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

You squint at him, suspicious. “Are you sure? You look kind of—”

“Handsome? Dashing? Devastatingly attractive?”

“I was going to say pained, but sure.”

Tony groans and leans back in his chair. “This is agony,” he mutters.

You blink. “What is?”

You. You are agony. Being around you, loving you, wanting you, and you not even noticing—it’s torture.

But of course, he doesn’t say that.

“Nothing,” he sighs. “Just this board meeting. Ugh, corporate politics. You have to sit next to me, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, amused. “Anything else?”

“Yes. I need coffee. Desperately.”

You snort but stand up, grabbing your purse. “I’ll be back in ten.”

Tony watches you go, his head hitting the desk as soon as the doors shut behind you.

He is so screwed.

The days pass like they always do—fast, chaotic, and filled with Tony Stark’s unique brand of dramatics.

Between meetings, tech demos, Stark Industries board nonsense, and the occasional explosion in his lab (which he always swears is intentional), you’ve settled into an odd routine with him.

A routine that involves not just work, but him.

It starts small.

At first, it’s just casual conversation in between scheduling his appointments and making sure he actually attends them. A random question here and there.

“Morning, sweetheart. How do you feel about pineapple on pizza?”

“It’s fine, I guess.”

“Wrong answer. Completely unacceptable. I might have to fire you.”

Then, it becomes a daily thing.

He asks about your coffee order, remembers the way you take it without you telling him twice. He learns your favorite snacks, stocks the office kitchen with them. He finds out you love old Hollywood movies, and suddenly, his TV has a list of black-and-white classics queued up.

You don’t think much of it.

Tony Stark is friendly. He’s nosy. He likes to know things. It makes sense that he’d ask about your life outside of work.

But to him, it’s everything.

Because these little details—the things you like, the way you laugh, the way you light up when you talk about something you’re passionate about—are what keep him grounded.

Sometimes, he even talks about himself, which is rare.

You don’t realize what a big deal it is at first. You’ve worked for him long enough to know he talks a lot, but usually, it’s about his inventions or some wild new idea he has.

But with you?

He tells you about his mom’s love for classical music, how she used to play records while she cooked. How his dad was cold but brilliant, how he spent his childhood trying to impress a man who never really saw him. How he went to MIT at fifteen and spent half his time pranking professors and the other half building things he wasn’t supposed to.

He tells you about Afghanistan one night, when it’s just the two of you in his office, the city lights glowing behind him.

About the cave, about the first arc reactor, about Yinsen and what he’d meant to him.

You listen.

You don’t pity him, don’t give him some empty platitude about how it must’ve been hard. You just listen.

And Tony—who has spent most of his life drowning out his own thoughts with distractions—thinks maybe you are the best thing that has ever happened to him.

He also thinks you might never notice how much you mean to him.

Which is why he’s completely blindsided when it happens.

It’s a normal day.

You’re at your desk, typing away, while Tony lounges on the couch with a blueprint in one hand and a screwdriver in the other, pretending to work while actually watching you.

Then Happy walks in.

“There’s a guy here to see you,” he tells Tony, looking unimpressed.

Tony doesn’t even look up. “Tell him I’m busy.”

“He says it’s urgent.”

Tony sighs, pushing himself up. “Fine, fine. Send him in.”

Happy steps aside, and the guy walks in.

You glance up, offering a polite smile before going back to your work.

The man is tall, well-dressed, and carries himself like he’s important—which immediately annoys Tony. He hates people who walk into his space acting like they own the place.

“Mr. Stark,” the man says, offering his hand. “Nathan Ellis. Big fan.”

Tony shakes his hand but looks bored already. “Uh-huh. What do you want?”

Nathan chuckles, like Tony just made a joke. “I had a business proposition I wanted to discuss with you. Something that could be mutually beneficial.”

Tony gestures lazily to you. “Talk to her. She handles all the boring stuff.”

You roll your eyes but give Nathan a professional smile. “What’s the proposition?”

But Nathan isn’t looking at you like a businessman pitching an idea. He’s looking at you like a man sizing up a woman, and Tony immediately hates him.

Nathan smirks. “You’re much prettier than I expected.”

You stiffen just a little, but you keep your composure. “That’s not really relevant,” you say, your tone still polite but firm. “What’s relevant is what you’re proposing.”

Nathan leans against your desk like he belongs there. “Can’t I compliment a beautiful woman?”

Tony sits up straight, his eyes narrowing.

You force a tight smile. “I’d prefer if we kept this professional.”

Nathan laughs, but it’s the kind of laugh that says he doesn’t really take you seriously. “Oh, come on. No need to be so serious, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

Tony sees red.

That’s his word.

His fingers tighten around the screwdriver in his hand, but he stays quiet—for now—watching you, waiting to see if you want him to step in.

You shift uncomfortably, clearly trying to remain professional, but it’s obvious you’re not enjoying this.

Tony doesn’t give a damn about professionalism.

He stands up, moving toward you in a few easy strides before leaning down and planting his hands on your desk, effectively caging you in while staring Nathan down.

“You know,” Tony says, voice deceptively light, “I really don’t like it when people make my assistant uncomfortable.”

Nathan blinks, clearly not expecting that.

You glance up at Tony, eyes wide.

Tony doesn’t look at you. His attention is solely on Nathan, his jaw tight, his expression calm but dangerous.

Nathan chuckles nervously. “I was just making conversation.”

“Yeah? Well, here’s the thing,” Tony says, tilting his head. “She doesn’t want to have a conversation with you.”

Nathan raises his hands. “Didn’t mean to step on any toes.”

Tony smiles, but it’s not friendly. “Oh, buddy, you stepped on mine, and I really don’t like that.”

Nathan shifts uncomfortably.

Tony straightens, taking a step back—but then he leans down again, close enough that only Nathan can hear when he says, “If you ever talk to her like that again, I will ruin your entire life before breakfast.”

Nathan swallows.

Tony claps him on the shoulder, grinning. “Now, I think we’re done here.”

Nathan nods quickly, then turns and practically flees the office.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Tony turns to you, concern flickering across his face. “You okay?”

You nod. “Yeah. Just… guys like that make my skin crawl.”

Tony watches you for a moment, then surprises you by gently brushing his fingers over yours.

You glance down at your hands, startled.

It’s not much. Just the lightest touch. But it makes your heart stutter.

“Next time, just say the word,” Tony says softly. “I’ll handle it.”

You swallow, suddenly very aware of how close he is.

“I—uh—thank you,” you murmur.

Tony smirks, his fingers curling around yours for just a second before he lets go.

Then, just like that, he’s back to normal, plopping onto the couch and stretching like nothing happened.

But something did.

And for the first time, you wonder if you’ve been missing something this whole time.

In the days after the Nathan incident, something shifts.

You don’t know what it is exactly, but you feel it.

Maybe it’s the way Tony watches you a little too closely when he thinks you aren’t looking. Or the way you replay that moment in your head—his fingers brushing yours, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it.

Or maybe it’s the way you feel when you look at him now.

You’ve worked for Tony long enough to know he’s magnetic. People gravitate toward him, caught in his orbit like planets around the sun. You’ve always thought he was charming in an annoying way, a flirt by nature, someone who could talk his way into—or out of—anything.

But now, for the first time, you find yourself looking at him differently.

You start noticing things you never did before.

The way his eyes soften when he looks at you. The way he always saves the last bite of his favorite snacks for you. The way he makes excuses to keep you in his office longer, even when the work is done.

And it’s terrifying.

Because if this was anyone else—anyone—maybe you’d let yourself admit it. Maybe you’d let yourself fall.

But this is Tony Stark. Your boss.

And that means it’s impossible.

So, you bury it. You convince yourself you’re imagining things, that Tony is just Tony, and you’re reading into it too much.

Then Nathan Ellis comes back.

You’re at your desk, sorting through a ridiculous amount of emails when Happy walks in, looking unimpressed as always.

“Great,” he mutters. “He’s back.”

You look up, confused. “Who’s back?”

As if on cue, Nathan Ellis strolls in, his smarmy grin already making your stomach twist.

Tony is in the corner of the room, tinkering with something, but at the sound of Nathan’s voice, his hands still.

Nathan leans against your desk. “Miss Y/N,” he says smoothly. “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot last time.”

You keep your expression polite but distant. “Did we?”

He laughs. “Look, I’m not here to talk business today.”

Tony doesn’t like that.

His fingers tighten around his wrench, his jaw clenching as he subtly shifts closer to listen.

Nathan continues, oblivious. “I was hoping to make it up to you. Dinner, maybe? There’s a great place downtown. My treat.”

You blink, caught off guard.

Your first instinct is to say no. You don’t like Nathan. He made you uncomfortable, and you have no interest in him.

But then—Tony.

You don’t look at him, but you feel his presence. You feel the weight of everything unspoken between you, the things you refuse to acknowledge.

So before you can think it through, you hear yourself say, “Sure.”

It’s a knee-jerk reaction, a way to prove—to yourself, to Tony, to whatever this thing is between you—that you can still be rational. That you don’t have feelings for Tony. That you can move on, be professional, keep your life normal.

But as soon as the word leaves your mouth, you regret it.

Nathan grins, clearly pleased. “Great. I’ll pick you up Friday at seven.”

You nod stiffly, and he finally leaves.

Silence lingers in the room.

You risk a glance at Tony.

He’s looking at his workbench, his expression unreadable. He doesn’t say a word.

And that, somehow, makes you feel worse.

—

Friday rolls around faster than you expect.

You dread it.

The moment you wake up, you regret saying yes.

You don’t want to go out with Nathan.

But backing out now would make you look ridiculous, and you refuse to admit—to yourself or to anyone else—why you really don’t want to go.

So, you tell yourself you’ll go. One date. It’s not a big deal.

Then Tony ruins it.

The day is insane.

More meetings than usual, a sudden crisis with one of Stark Industries’ overseas contracts, a last-minute tech demo that Tony insists he needs you to be there for.

By the time you finally look at the clock, it’s almost nine.

Your stomach drops.

You completely forgot about the date.

You grab your phone, wincing when you see multiple missed calls and texts from Nathan, all of them getting progressively more annoyed.

Shit.

You stand abruptly, grabbing your bag.

Tony—who is lounging on the couch, looking suspiciously satisfied—raises an eyebrow. “Going somewhere?”

You glare at him. “Did you do this on purpose?”

He blinks, all mock innocence. “Do what?”

“This.” You gesture wildly at the stack of paperwork still on your desk, the mess of your day, the way you were so busy you lost track of time. “You knew I had plans tonight.”

Tony shrugs. “Did you?”

You want to scream.

“Tony.”

Something flickers in his expression when you say his name like that—low, almost dangerous.

You step closer, jabbing a finger at his chest. “You did do this on purpose.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, but the smug look on his face tells you everything.

He did this.

He made sure you were too busy to leave, too busy to go on the date.

And for some reason, that makes your heart pound in a way you don’t want to analyze.

“Unbelievable,” you mutter.

Tony leans back, tilting his head at you. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a date.”

You gape at him. “That’s not the point!”

“Then what is the point?”

“The point is you manipulated me into missing it!”

He stands, stepping into your space, close enough that you have to crane your neck to keep looking at him.

And suddenly, the room feels too small.

“I didn’t manipulate anything,” he says, voice low. “I just gave you work. You’re the one who got so caught up in it you forgot about him.”

Your breath catches.

Because he’s right.

You were the one who didn’t check the time. The one who let yourself get wrapped up in Tony’s world.

And maybe—just maybe—it was because deep down, you didn’t want to go.

But that doesn’t change the fact that he wanted this. That he made sure it happened.

You shake your head, stepping back. “You don’t get to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Mess with my life like this. You don’t get to control who I see, Tony.”

He flinches.

For a second, you think he’s going to argue, make another joke, deflect like he always does.

But instead, he just watches you, something raw and unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

Then, he sighs. Runs a hand through his hair.

“You’re right,” he says quietly. “I don’t.”

The honesty in his voice catches you off guard.

It almost—almost—makes you soften.

But you’re still angry.

So without another word, you turn on your heel and leave.

Tony doesn’t stop you.

And the worst part?

A small, traitorous part of you wishes he had.

You don’t make it far.

You storm out of the office, heart pounding, anger bubbling in your chest so violently you can taste it. You don’t even know where you’re going—just away.

Away from Tony and his smug little I didn’t manipulate anything face. Away from the way he looked at you, like he wasn’t the least bit sorry. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Like he had every right to do it.

You make it to the elevator before you hear him behind you.

“Y/N.”

You don’t turn around.

“Y/N,” Tony repeats, voice sharp now, edged with something you don’t recognize.

You stab the elevator button. “Go away, Tony.”

“Yeah, see, that’s not gonna happen.”

You spin on your heel, glaring at him. “Oh, what now? You gonna kidnap me? Make sure I never leave this damn building?”

Tony sighs like you’re the one being difficult. “I just want to talk.”

“Oh, now you want to talk?” You laugh, crossing your arms. “Because when I was trying to talk about how you sabotaged my night, you had nothing to say.”

Tony clenches his jaw. “It wasn’t sabotage.”

“Oh, really?” You raise an eyebrow. “So it was just a coincidence that today of all days you gave me twice as much work as usual? That you suddenly needed me in meetings I normally don’t have to be in? That you—”

“I didn’t want you to go.”

The words come out quiet, almost too quiet to hear.

But you hear them.

And you freeze.

Tony exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. His gaze flickers away for a second, like he’s regretting saying it.

But then he looks back at you, and there’s something in his eyes—something real.

Something that makes your stomach flip.

You swallow hard. “Tony…”

He shakes his head. “Just—come back to the office. Please.”

You should say no. You should walk away.

But you don’t.

Because even though you’re furious, even though every rational part of your brain is screaming at you to be professional—to keep things normal—there’s a deeper, quieter part of you that wants to hear what he has to say.

So, you turn. Walk back.

And Tony follows.

—

The office feels different when you get back.

Quieter. Tense.

You lean against your desk, arms crossed, watching as Tony paces the room.

“Well?” you say finally.

Tony stops. Looks at you.

And for the first time since you’ve known him, he looks… nervous.

Not the fake, exaggerated kind he puts on for show, but real nervous.

He exhales. “I don’t want you dating him.”

You scoff. “Yeah, I noticed.”

“I don’t want you dating anyone.”

Your breath catches.

Tony swallows hard. “Because I—” He hesitates, like he’s physically fighting the words. Then, finally, he just says it.

“Because I love you.”

Everything stops.

The air in the room shifts, like the world itself is holding its breath.

You stare at him, your brain struggling to process what just happened.

Tony looks like he wants to take it back, like he wants to shove the words back into his mouth and pretend they never happened.

But they did.

And suddenly, everything makes sense.

The way he looks at you. The way he knows you—your coffee order, your favorite movies, the way you feel about things before you even say them.

The way he brushed his fingers over yours that day, like it meant something.

The way he sabotaged your date—not because he was being petty, but because the thought of you with someone else made him want to burn the world down.

And, God—maybe you do love him.

Maybe you have for longer than you realized.

You exhale sharply, your heart slamming against your ribs.

“Say something,” Tony mutters.

You don’t.

You move.

Before you can second-guess yourself, before you can let all the rules and expectations stop you, you grab him by the collar of his stupidly expensive shirt and kiss him.

Tony freezes for half a second.

Then he melts.

His hands come up, one gripping your waist, the other tangling in your hair. He kisses you like he’s starving for it, like he’s been waiting for this—for you.

And maybe he has.

Maybe you both have.

When you finally pull back, you’re breathless.

Tony stares at you, lips parted, looking so completely wrecked that you almost laugh.

Almost.

Instead, you press your forehead against his, inhaling deeply.

“I hate you,” you whisper.

Tony chuckles, breath warm against your skin. “No, you don’t.”

You sigh, closing your eyes. “You could’ve just told me.”

“Yeah,” Tony murmurs. “But where’s the fun in that?”

You do laugh this time.

Because of course he’d say that.

Because of course it was always going to be this—messy, chaotic, inevitable.

And as Tony kisses you again—slow this time, like he never wants to stop—you know one thing for certain.

You’re never making it to another date with anyone ever again.

Tony kisses you like he’s making up for lost time. Like he’s wanted this for so long he doesn’t know how to hold back anymore. His hands grip your waist, fingers pressing into your skin through the fabric of your blouse as he pulls you closer, eliminating the last bit of space between you. You feel the edge of the desk dig into the small of your back, but you don’t care. Not when Tony’s mouth is on yours, not when he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, not when his hand slides up your back, warm and firm and impossible to ignore.

You gasp against his lips, fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt, and he groans in response. The sound sends a shiver down your spine, and suddenly you’re not thinking about where you are or what this means or how this is completely unprofessional. You’re only thinking about how much you want him. How much you’ve always wanted him, even when you didn’t want to admit it.

Tony shifts, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs, and before you can process what’s happening, he lifts you onto the desk. You barely manage to let out a startled breath before he’s between your legs, pressing into you, his lips trailing from your mouth to your jaw to the sensitive spot just below your ear.

You tilt your head back, your hands moving on their own, pushing his jacket off his shoulders, sliding over the hard planes of his chest. Tony lets out a low curse, his breath hot against your skin, and you know this is getting out of control. You know you should stop. But then his fingers graze the hem of your skirt, and your heart is pounding, and—

A knock on the door makes you both freeze.

Your eyes snap open, and Tony’s lips still against your throat. For a second, neither of you moves. Your breath is ragged, and Tony’s grip on your waist tightens like he’s physically stopping himself from ignoring the interruption.

“Tony?”

Happy’s voice is muffled through the door, but it’s enough to jolt you back to reality.

You push at Tony’s chest, and he steps back with obvious reluctance. His eyes are dark, his hair is a mess from your hands, and his lips are swollen. The sight of him like this, completely wrecked, makes something deep in your stomach tighten.

You shake yourself out of it, sliding off the desk as you smooth down your clothes. Tony watches you, chest rising and falling like he’s trying to get himself under control.

“Yeah, yeah,” he calls out, voice rough. “Give me a second.”

There’s a pause, then the sound of footsteps retreating.

You exhale, pressing your fingers to your temples.

“That was—”

Tony smirks. “Hot?”

You glare at him, but it lacks heat. “Unprofessional.”

Tony sighs dramatically. “Yeah, that too.”

You shake your head, trying to ignore the way your entire body is still buzzing. “We can’t do that at work.”

Tony’s smirk widens, and you realize what you just said a second too late.

“So you’re saying we can do it outside of work?”

You groan. “Not what I meant.”

Tony grins, stepping closer again. His fingers brush your wrist, light and teasing. “Come over after your shift.”

You bite your lip, considering.

Tony dips his head, voice dropping. “I’ll behave.”

You snort. “No, you won’t.”

Tony shrugs, completely unapologetic. “Yeah, okay, I won’t.”

You roll your eyes but don’t say no.

Tony notices.

—

You don’t talk about what this means. You don’t sit down and define your relationship, don’t have some long, serious conversation about what you are to each other now.

But you don’t need to.

Because it’s obvious in the way Tony kisses you when you show up at his penthouse after work. In the way he pulls you onto the couch, his hands sliding under your shirt, his mouth never leaving yours. In the way you spend the night tangled in his sheets, waking up to his arm draped over your waist, his breath warm against the back of your neck.

It’s obvious in the way he looks at you at work, in the way he always finds an excuse to touch you. A hand at the small of your back when he passes by, a brush of his fingers against yours when he hands you something, a teasing whisper against your ear that makes you shiver.

You try to be subtle.

You don’t want anyone thinking you’re only with him to climb the corporate ladder, and Tony—surprisingly—understands. He doesn’t push. He doesn’t announce it to the world, doesn’t make some grand declaration in the middle of a meeting.

But he also doesn’t hide it.

Not really.

Because the way he looks at you isn’t subtle. The way he finds any excuse to keep you in his office longer than necessary isn’t subtle. The way he calls you sweetheart in private and Miss Y/L/N in front of others with a smirk that says he knows exactly what he’s doing definitely isn’t subtle.

And then there are the stolen kisses.

The ones in the elevator when no one else is around. The ones in the hallway when he tugs you into a supply closet with a grin and a just real quick, I missed you. The ones at his penthouse when you show up after a long day and he greets you at the door with his hands already on your hips, pulling you inside like he’s been waiting for you all day.

Because he has.

You find yourself spending more nights at his place than your own. It starts slowly—one night, then two, then three. Then, before you know it, most of your stuff is at his penthouse, and you don’t even think about going home after work anymore.

Tony never says anything about it. He never asks you to stay.

But he doesn’t have to.

Because the way he holds you when you fall asleep says everything.

Because the way he presses a lazy kiss to your temple in the morning when he thinks you’re still asleep says everything.

Because the way he looks at you—like you’re the most important thing in the world—says everything.

Tony kisses you like he’s savoring every second. His hands rest on your waist, fingers pressing just enough to make you shiver. You’re sitting on his desk, legs wrapped loosely around his hips, completely lost in the moment. It’s a rare quiet afternoon in the office, just the two of you, and Tony has taken full advantage of it.

You hum against his lips as he trails his mouth down your jaw, then lower to your neck. His stubble grazes your skin, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. His lips are warm, soft, teasing as he lingers just beneath your ear. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

Tony chuckles when he feels your breath hitch. You can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

You grab a fistful of his shirt. Tony responds with a slow, deliberate kiss to the side of your neck. His tongue flicks against your skin, followed by a light nip that makes you gasp. His mouth lingers there, sucking just hard enough to leave his mark.

A sharp knock on the door shatters the moment.

You both freeze. Tony exhales against your skin, shoulders tensing.

Another knock, this one louder.

Tony groans. "They have the worst timing, I swear—"

Then the door swings open, and your stomach drops.

Nathan Ellis stands in the doorway, his expression dark and furious.

The sight of him immediately kills any lingering warmth from your moment with Tony. He looks different from the smooth, arrogant man who asked you out—his jaw is clenched, his eyes cold, his posture rigid with anger.

You stiffen, already knowing this won’t be good.

Nathan steps inside without waiting for permission, eyes locked onto you. "You stood me up."

Tony straightens, immediately stepping in front of you in a way that makes it clear he has no intention of letting Nathan get any closer. "Big deal," he says flatly. "She didn’t want to go. Move on."

Nathan ignores him, eyes still burning into you. "You didn’t even have the decency to text me? Let me know instead of wasting my time?"

Your throat tightens. You don’t want to deal with this. "I got caught up at work. It wasn’t intentional."

Nathan scoffs. "Bullshit. You’re just another woman who likes to play games. You say yes to a date and then don’t even bother showing up? You think that makes you look good?"

Something shifts in Tony. His entire body goes tense, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. "Watch how you talk to her."

Nathan finally looks at Tony, his upper lip curling in disgust. "Oh, I get it now. This is why you didn’t show up, huh?" His gaze flickers back to you, sharp and accusing. Then his eyes catch something on your neck, and his entire expression twists into something uglier.

Your stomach sinks.

You don’t even need to look in a mirror to know what he’s staring at. You feel the lingering warmth where Tony’s mouth was just moments ago.

Nathan lets out a short, bitter laugh. "Wow. That’s just perfect." He turns back to Tony. "Guess I should’ve figured. Why go out with someone like me when you can just screw your boss instead?"

Your eyes widen in shock.

Tony moves before you can react.

His fist collides with Nathan’s jaw, the impact loud in the silence of the office. Nathan stumbles back, his hand flying up to his face, a stunned expression flashing across his features before fury takes over.

"Tony!" You grab his arm before he can swing again, your heart pounding.

Nathan straightens, eyes blazing with pure hatred. "You’re insane."

Tony glares at him. "Get out."

Nathan sneers, wiping his mouth. "Oh, trust me, I’m leaving. But you’re gonna regret this. Both of you."

Tony doesn’t even let him turn fully before pulling out his phone and pressing a button. "Happy. Come get this asshole out of my office."

Nathan’s jaw tightens, but before he can say anything else, heavy footsteps echo down the hall. Happy Hogan appears in the doorway, expression unreadable but posture firm.

"Let’s go," Happy says.

Nathan glares at you one last time, then at Tony, before reluctantly stepping back. Happy follows him out, and just like that, he’s gone.

The office is silent again, but the tension lingers.

Your pulse is still racing. You take a deep breath, willing yourself to calm down. Then you look at Tony.

He’s standing there, still tense, his hand flexing like he’s barely holding himself back from going after Nathan again.

"You punched him," you say, still a little in shock.

Tony shrugs. "He deserved it."

You let out a breath, rubbing your hands over your face. "I can’t believe this happened."

Tony frowns. "You okay?"

You hesitate. "I just—" You groan. "Tony, you gave me a hickey."

Tony blinks, then smirks. "Just now realizing that?"

You glare at him. "I have to work in this office. People are gonna see."

Tony tilts his head, completely unbothered. "So? Let ‘em see."

You stare at him. "I don’t want them to see."

He sighs dramatically. "Alright, alright. I guess I can be more strategic about my placement next time."

You groan again, turning toward your desk. "I need concealer."

Tony snickers. "You could just wear a scarf. It’d be very elegant. Very old-Hollywood."

You shoot him a look over your shoulder. "You think this is funny."

Tony steps closer, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. His chin rests on your shoulder as he murmurs against your ear, "I know this is funny."

You shove at him, but you’re smiling despite yourself. "You’re the worst."

"Yeah, yeah," Tony murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to your jaw before finally letting you go. "Now hurry up and cover it. I have a meeting in ten minutes, and I need my very professional assistant to not look like she just had a makeout session with her boss."

You roll your eyes, reaching into your bag for your concealer. Tony watches you with a stupidly smug expression.

You shake your head, but your heart is still racing for a completely different reason now.

Because even after everything, even after the chaos Nathan caused, one thing is crystal clear.

You and Tony? You’re solid. And no one—not Nathan, not anyone—can change that.

317 notes · View notes

tuiccim · 1 year ago

Text

Pickup Game

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3509

Warnings: Flirt, Fluff, Smut, Oral (f rec)

Summary: An after party game of pickup lines leads to a confession and an even more fun night in bed.

A/N: Special thanks to my hype princess & beta reader @whisperlullaby.

The after party of just Avengers and close friends was in full swing. Drinks and laughter flowed as you enjoyed each other's company.

“Okay, okay. Your best pick up line! Let’s have ‘em!” Clint yells over the most recent spate of laughter. “Tony, whatcha got?”

Tony smirks before opening his arms wide and declaring, “I am Iron Man.” He grins as everyone heckles him, “What can I say? Works every time!”

“Really?” Pepper raises an eyebrow.

“Used to! Used to work,” Tony backpedals. “Rhodey, save me here, buddy!”

“Okay, okay,” Rhodey laughs as he glances at Natasha who is standing by him and tugs at his sleeve, “Feel my shirt. Know what it’s made of? Boyfriend material.”

"Nice," Natasha scoffs.

"Let's hear yours then!" Rhodey huffs.

"Ever had a White Russian?" Natasha asks, holding up her glass.

"No," Rhodey looks at her suspiciously.

"Want to?" She says seductively.

Rhodey chuckles, "Smooth. Okay, Clint, what've you got?"

Clint bats his eyes at Sam, standing next to him and says, "Well, here I am. What are your other two wishes, big boy?"

Sam laughs while rolling his eyes, "So, what you guys are telling me is that you have no game?"

"Give us your best then, Rocket Man!"

"You know, dating is a numbers game. So, can I have yours?" Sam grins.

"Boooring!" Tony heckles. "Steve, what's your favorite?"

"I've never been good with pickup lines. That was more Bucky's territory," Steve tilts his head towards the dark-haired super soldier.

"Thanks," Bucky says sarcastically, "I'm a little out of practice with pickup lines."

"Aw, come on, Buck, give it a shot," you pipe in and then try to hide your embarrassment at having drawn attention to yourself. Even though you hoped he'd test out the line on you. Your attraction to the man was undeniable and you'd harbored a crush since you'd met him. You leaned back against the wall with your hands behind your back and raised your eyebrow in challenge to him.

Bucky's face betrayed a moment of discomfiture before he straightened his shoulders and stepped over to you. He placed a hand on the wall above you, leaning in with a small smirk, "If I told you you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?"

You could hear some chuckling and comments in the background but it faded as you stared up at Bucky. God, he was fine as hell and you were doing your best to control your erratic heartbeat.

"Sorry, doll, that wasn't very good, huh?"

You don't know where the gall came from but, before you realized what you were doing the words slipped out of your mouth. "Don't worry, Buck, I'm not big on being picked up. I prefer to be pinned down." Your eyebrow raised as you said the words and you smirked, bringing your glass to your lips for a sip.

Bucky's jaw drops as the room erupts in laughter and cheers. Tony crows, "She wins!"

Clint laughs heartily as he agrees, "Hands down!"

After a few moments, you reach up and close Bucky's mouth, “And to answer your questions, yes, I would,” you whisper with a wink as you walk away.

A little while later, the party was winding down and you decided it was time to slip out. Your nerves were getting the better of you. Thoughts ran amuck as to what Bucky thought of you and whether the attraction you felt was reciprocated. He’d been in a conversation with some of the guys since the game ended and you hoped to catch a glimpse, some sign of mutual interest but now you were walking away with your tail between your legs. God, what must he think of you and that brazen comment.

Hitting the button for the elevator, you berate yourself for thinking you ever stood a chance. Your head snapped up when a deep voice whispered, “You know, you have a beautiful body.”

Grinning, you turn and press yourself against Bucky, “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Bucky smirks at you. Without warning, he stoops and picks you up as if you weigh nothing.

“Bucky!” You squeal as the elevator doors open.

He carries you in, hitting the button for his floor with his elbow, “Don’t worry, doll. I know you aren’t big on being picked up but I’ll have you pinned down soon enough.”

You raise your eyebrow at him, “It was just a line, Buck.”

His confidence falters for a second, “Oh, uh-”

“Don’t worry, baby. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it,” you smirk.

“Oh, you’re naughty,” Bucky laughs.

“I prefer ‘playful’.”

“I like playful,” Bucky adjusts you in his arms so that your back is pressed to the elevator wall and your faces are at the same level.

You use the opportunity to wrap your legs around him and look at him expectantly.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks.

You’re surprised by the request after the way he’d handled you. It warmed your heart that he would seek your consent and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, “Please.”

The kiss is intense. He presses into you as his lips move over yours. His tongue slips out seeking entry and you oblige him immediately. You separate only when the elevator dings your arrival. He lowers your legs gently and takes your hand. Leading you down the hallway, Bucky says awkwardly, “I, uh, was kind of surprised when you, um, said that tonight.”

“What? The pickup line?” You tilt your head as you look at him.

“No, the… thing you whispered afterwards.”

“Really, why?” You thought your feelings for him were fairly obvious.

“I mean, I’m a mess and you’re so put together. I just,” he shrugs, “kinda thought you were out of my league, ya know.”

“No,” you laugh, “no, I don’t know. I have never thought of myself as put together. Thanks for that but I’m kind of a mess, too. I think we all are in our own ways.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Bucky smiles as he opens his door and guides you in.

You suddenly feel awkward as you walk inside the room. The passion displayed in the elevator had mellowed as you walked and talked together into a camaraderie. You were unsure how to get back to it.

“Would you like a drink?” Bucky asks as he comes up behind you, his lips brushing your neck and his hands caress your hips. You jump a little at the unexpected contact.

“I think I had enough earlier,” you breathe, heat pooling between your legs.

“I haven’t had enough, I haven’t had nearly enough. I need another taste,” Bucky says as he turns you around to capture your mouth. You oblige him willingly, snaking your arms around his neck as you arch into him.

Abandoning any reserve you would normally have, you reach for the buttons on his shirt. He reaches for the zipper of your dress but his hands still. You pull back to look at him curiously.

“You’re sure?” He asks.

You smile and pull the tails of his shirt from his pants while saying, “Barnes, if you don’t get me naked and pin me down, I will never forgive you.”

He pulls you against him forcefully, grinning as he pulls down your zipper, “We can’t have that.”

Clothes are discarded quickly as he backs you to the bed. Bucky slides his hands into your panties to grab your ass and you gasp when he picks you up. Laying you on the bed he pulls your panties off. You expect him to follow you down but instead his eyes take a slow path up your body. Propping yourself on your elbows, you resist the urge to cover yourself but tremble as he studies you. He smiles, grabs a discarded t-shirt, and rips the bottom half from it. Your eyebrow raises at the display.

“And what do you plan to do with that, Sgt. Barnes?”

His smirk as he advances has butterflies dancing in your stomach. He grabs your arms, twists the shirt around your wrists, and hauls them above your head as he pins you to the bed.

“Happy now?” Bucky rumbles as he kisses your neck.

“Almost. I’d like these off,” you use your legs to pull at the underwear he still has on, “and an orgasm or two would be nice.”

Holy shit, you don’t know where this confidence had come from. Maybe because Bucky wanted you. Maybe because of whatever drink that was that Natasha had handed you. Whatever it was, you were enjoying the results.

“Only one or two?” Bucky teases as he nibbles along your clavicle. “I bet I can do better.”

“Is that so?” You gasp as his tongue plays over your nipple.

“Mm-hm,” he murmurs before plucking at your other nipple with his lips. He lets go of your hands that are still bound above your head as he slides his tongue down your stomach. Your breathing picks up when he reaches your navel and proceeds to kiss his way down to your mound. Your eyes screw shut to take in every sensation. When he spreads your legs further apart, you feel the contrast of warm skin and cool metal on your thighs. Anticipation builds, making you lick your lips and you can’t help the whimper that slips out when you feel a gentle finger trace your slit.

“Fuck,” Bucky whispers reverently before his tongue follows the same path as his fingers. His metal arm curls around your leg and he rests his hand on your abdomen, effectively holding you in place as he explores your folds. It was almost unbearable, the way his tongue slid around to touch everywhere but where you needed him most.

“Bucky, please,” you whimper desperately.

His chuckle rumbles against your core. His fingers replace his tongue, taking the same lazy path. “Poor baby, am I not giving you what you want?” His finger tip barely grazes your clit and you whine. “Are you feeling needy?” His finger circles your entrance and his tongue gives the softest lick to your clit. Your hips flex, desperate for more friction, making Bucky press his metal hand more firmly against you. “I like seeing you like this.” Another small lick to your clit. “Wet, under me, and so desperate.”

“Bucky, pleeeaase,” you can’t keep the whine out of your voice. You don’t think you’ve ever been quite so turned on and the teasing was making you a writhing mess.

“Say please again and maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

“Please!” the word rushes out of you. His fingers and tongue driving you mad.

His tongue moves slowly, lapping back and forth over your clit while his finger still teases. It’s maddeningly delicious but not enough at the same time. He holds your hips hostage, not allowing you to move. You mewl with each motion of his tongue over you, your body on fire and screaming for just a little more until your mouth opens to plead, “More! Oh, god, I need more!”

Bucky lifts his head, a devilish smirk across his mouth, “Oh, precious, you didn’t say please. We’ll have to start all over again now.” His finger goes back to tracing the slow path over your cunt.

“What?” You gape at him as he plays with you.

“You didn’t say please, doll,” Bucky repeats, allowing his lips to brush over your thigh, far too far from where you wanted his lips.

You felt like crying. You felt like screaming. You felt like ripping off your bindings, flipping him over, and riding his face until you came all over it. Unfortunately, you knew you’d never overpower him and, if you were really honest with yourself, this little game he was playing was hot as fuck. You’d never been treated like this and he had made you a gushing mess.

“I’m sorry, Bucky. Please, please, I need more,” you whimper at him with doe eyes, hoping for a reprieve.

“You need more, precious?” Bucky’s finger grazes lightly over your clit.

“Oh, please!” Your hips try to buck against his hold but he merely chuckles as he holds you in place easily. His finger circles your clit slowly as his tongue takes a meandering path up your thigh.

“Please, baby, please!” You whine as he makes his way back to your apex and are rewarded when his tongue takes the place of his finger. His motions are still slow and deliberate while his finger brushes over your entrance again causing you to clench around nothing. Desperate for more, you start to say the one word you know will earn you some relief, “Plea- OOH!!!-” In the middle of your plea, his finger had entered you and he sucked on your clit suddenly. “Yes, fuck, please, please, please…,” the word became your only mantra as he fucked you with fingers and tongue. Your legs began to shake and then he curled his fingers into that perfect spot, making bright white flash before your eyes and a scream rend from your throat. You came hard, your muscles clenching. Your legs try to close but Bucky’s broad shoulders between them keep you open to him. He laps at you through the aftershocks.

“Fuck, I could stay here for days,” Bucky groaned. His fingers curled slowly as his tongue made gentle licks.

You gasped and moaned, words and thoughts hard to come by in the haze. “Bucky,” you finally manage to whisper his name as if it was the sweetest endearment.

“I know. I know, doll. Don’t worry, I’m not done yet,” his mouth nuzzled you as he said the words. Flicks of his tongue came closer together, “I need another one from you, precious. Gotta hear you make those sweet sounds again.”

“Bucky, oh, fuck. Please, it’s so good,” you gasp the words out, nearly overstimulated and yet still desperate for his touch.

“You know how hard I am hearing you say that?” Bucky groans against your clit, vibrations coursing through you. His tongue begins moving faster, making swift circles.

“I… I- fuck. Please,” you stutter, unable to form sentences anymore. Bucky’s fingers curl more firmly into that spongy spot inside and your back tries to arch despite his arm holding you firmly in place. He was moving his tongue as if his sole purpose in life was to make you fly into a million pieces. You were a whimpering mess, unable to form words and so close to the edge again. When he growled against you again, your eyes flew open and you looked down your body at him. His cobalt eyes met yours and the intensity in his gaze was a hit straight to your core. Your muscles began to spasm as you watched him, so focused on your pleasure and aroused by your responses. Your scream is stifled by the overwhelming intensity of the orgasm that rips through you. Your hands flex around the bonds that hold them in place.

As Bucky kisses his way back up your body, you manage to come back to yourself… mostly. You wanted to touch him, to hold him against you, to run your hands over his body. You attempt to untwist your hands from the scrap of t-shirt but the deceptively loose looking knot doesn’t budge.

“Bucky, baby, please can you untie me?” You whisper.

Bucky had paused at your breasts to show them some attention. They were deserving of the most reverent of worship in his mind. His tongue traced your nipple before he spoke, “Why? I’ve got you tied up, pinned down, and perfectly on display for me.”

“I want to touch you, please,” you gasp as he takes your nipple into his mouth to gently suckle.

“Hmm,” he muses as he makes his way to your other breast, giving it the same loving attention. “If you’ll answer a question for me.”

“Anything,” you sigh, enjoying each motion of his mouth over you. You feel the rumble of his chuckle at your quick response.

“How long?” He asks.

You slide your leg to brush against his cock, still covered by his boxer briefs before saying cheekily, “I didn’t bring a measuring tape with me but I’d say more than adequate.”

Bucky lets out a small moan at the contact and then chuckles, “Not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean, baby?”

“How long did I waste not having you in my bed?” Bucky asks as he brings his face level to yours.

“You mean, how long have I wanted you or are you asking how long I’ve liked you?”

“Both,” Bucky narrows his eyes but gives you a small smile.

“If I’m really honest, I’ve always wanted you. You’re kinda hot, ya know?” You smile and bite your lip.

“And the other?” Bucky asks, flexing his hips into you so that his hard cock nestles between your legs.

You gasp and arch into him, “About five minutes after meeting you.”

“Seriously, when?” Bucky scoffs gently.

“You were so sweet and a little self-conscious and I just adored you,” you nudged his nose with yours, encouraging his lips to find yours. He kissed you, long and lovingly, while he released your hands. You both seemed to settle into each other as your hands explored, finally free. The heat began to return, hips flexing into each other, craving the friction, but before things got too carried away, you cradled Bucky’s face in your hands and forced him to look at you. “How long?” You repeat his question.

“Always,” he whispers passionately before taking your mouth again.

It was all you needed. You reached for the band of his underwear, wanting nothing left to separate you. You managed to get the offending garment off of him and circle his cock with your hand. He takes a sharp intake of breath and then groans. Definitely more than adequate, you think to yourself.

“Doll,” Bucky presses his forehead to yours, “I need to be inside you.”

“Oh, precious, you didn’t say please,” you tease him, rubbing the head of his cock through your slick. Your core aches to be filled but you can’t resist the chance to tease him just a bit as he’d done to you earlier.

Bucky chuckles, “Knew I should have kept you tied up.”

You rub the head of his cock over your clit and whimper loudly in his ear, “I still haven’t heard it.” You pump him in your hand but still won’t let him slip into you despite his attempts to maneuver his hips.

“Fuuuuck, please!” Buchy growls, sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

You waste no time lining him up with your entrance. He presses in a few agonizingly slow inches before grabbing your hands and hauling them above your head. He stares into you as he growls out, “I should pin you down,” he sinks in a little more, “and tease you mercilessly.” His hips slide slowly forward until he’s fully seated inside of you. “But I don’t think either of us would survive it right now.” He slides out a couple of inches before snapping his hips forward, taking your breath away. He sets a slow but driving pace, staring into your eyes as he fucks you. His hands slide down to hold your face and he kisses you fiercely, his thrusts coming a little faster as he does. You wrap your arms around his chest, pulling him to you, sliding one down to grab onto his ass. You encourage every movement, the drag of his cock tipping you closer to the precipice.

He buries his face in your neck, whispering praises and encouragement, “Shit, you’re squeezing me so tight, doll.”

“Bucky, fuck, I’m gonna-,” your breath catches as you fall over the edge. Your body sings as you come, trembling and moaning with each wave.

“You’re so fucking pretty, doll. So fucking pretty,” Bucky grits out as you clench around him. It only takes a few more sloppy thrusts for him to lose himself inside you. His hips flex with each aftershock that hits him.

Rolling to his side, Bucky pulls you against him. You nuzzle his chest as you both catch your breath. Despite the lethargy settling over both of you, Bucky's hands wander continuously over your skin and you bask in the attention.

“You'll stay, won't you?” Bucky whispers.

“I don't know,” you say sleepily, “Do you hog the covers?”

Bucky chuckles, “I'm pretty good at sharing.”

“Mmm, then I'll stay,” you yawn and a little giggle escapes you.

“What?” Bucky smiles at your mirth-filled eyes.

“That's the first time a cheesy pick up line ever worked on me,” you giggle again.

“I'll have to come up with some others. See if I get lucky again,” Bucky laughs as he kisses the top of your head.

“I'd say your chances are pretty good,” you smirk at him, “But maybe next time, I should be the one to pin you down.”

“Only if you say please, doll.”

Updates and taglist: Due to the unreliable nature of tags, I no longer keep a taglist. Updates for series will be made on Sundays Central Time Zone. Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction and turn on notifications for updates. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support!

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1K notes · View notes

traveler-at-heart · 10 months ago

Text

Live, Love, Natalie Rushman

Summary: Based on a request by @lynattyx - Natasha and R meet when she's working undercover at Stark Industries.

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R

Live Love Legal

The sign was meant to be a graduation joke, but you still placed it on a shelf in your very serious, very corporate office.

Even now, as you were promoted to Senior Associate -the youngest at Stark Industries- and you had a bigger space, with a breathtaking view of Central Park and Midtown Manhattan.

It was your first day, and you were determined to make things right. Top of the list, onboarding Miss Potts’ new paralegal assistant. Your secretary (holy crap, you had a secretary!) had called to informed you she was waiting at the front desk.

“Natalie?” you called, imagining the woman with red hair and black slacks was the new assistant.

Though, you were not prepared for the sight that greeted you when she turned around, striking green eyes and a perfect smile in place.

“You must be Y/N”

The way her raspy voice caressed every syllable of your name almost made you weak in the knees.

But this was work, and you couldn’t lose your shit over the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen.

“Yes. Come with me, I’ll show you around”

Pleased with the firmness of your voice, you gave Natalie a tour of the office, pointing at different areas where most meetings took place. You also showed her where to find the information of everyone she might need to contact, and then you went up to Pepper’s office. The short elevator ride was littered with small talk, and you considered a success how your cheeks flushed only once.

“Come in” Pepper said and you opened the door, Natalie right behind you. “Y/N, happy first day as an associate. And you must be Natalie Rushman”

After a brief introduction, you were ready to leave both women to work.

“If you need anything, just let me know” you said to Natalie before going back to your office.

“Anything?” she said with a small smile. Perhaps it was all in your head, or the woman had really managed to make the question sound… loaded.

“Of course” you said, heat going to your cheeks.

Once the elevator doors were shut, you leaned against the wall, wondering if you’d imagined Natalie’s parfume still lingering in the air.

Maybe that sign at your office should read Live Love Lesbian instead.

—

It had been a week - a busy, insane week- but Natalie hadn’t needed your help with anything. While you wanted to feel relief, because you had enough on your plate, you were actually disappointed. Those green eyes and that beautiful voice would not leave your thoughts.

To your displeasure, you weren’t the only one.

“Tony” you said, feeling a headache as you entered your office first thing in the morning and saw him behind your desk, feet up.

“Y/N. How’s the new job going?”

“It would be better if you gave the government some information about those suits. But I will say I love my new parking space”

“Right! New is good” he agreed, not moving from your chair. “Like that new girl. Natalie Rushmore…”

“Rushman” the headache intensified.

“Right, whatever. Isn’t she good?”

“Ask Pepper”

“I mean I did, and she told me to stop before I did anything that might get me sued for harrassment”

“Pepper’s right. You can’t go around sleeping with your employees”

“I was only flirting” he spun around and you had enough, finally kicking him so he’d stand up. “I was never inappropriate to you, right?”

“That’s because I’m gay, Tony”

“And do you think Natalie might be…?” you glared at the man and he was quick to explain. “I hear there’s a sixth sense involved in the whole experience”

“Leave before I throw you out the window, Stark”

“You’re no fun” he complained, winking as he shut the door to your office.

—

The next time you saw Natalie was as you prepared a meeting with new VC investors and the board.

“I need you to place the NDAs in the binder that we’re sending to legal…” Pepper said and Natalie stopped walking. The sudden halt made you turn your attention. It wasn’t hard to understand what that look meant. She had forgotten. Pepper insisted. “You did send the NDAs, right?”

The hardness of her tone made you flinch, and you spoke before thinking about what could happen.

“Actually… I asked Natalie to hold off on that. I wanted to double check the IP section but completely forgot about it. I’m sorry, Pepper”

“Ok, it’s fine” the woman said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Just make sure it’s ready before the presentation”

You nodded, and turned to walk down the hall to find the documents. Natalie followed right behind you, and you almost didn’t hear the quiet thank you she whispered your way.

“Don’t mention it”

Truly, you had forgotten all about it by the next day, until you found a latte waiting at your desk.

It was exactly how you took it, and you were very particular about your coffee.

“How…?” you wondered out loud.

“I notice things” Natalie said from the doorway. You flinched, amazed at how stealth she could be.

“And you’re silent. Like a ninja. Or a spy” you drank again, chuckling at the ridiculous comparison. “You didn’t have to, I didn’t do anything”

“This job is very important so it does mean something to me, Y/N”

The way she said your name had you blushing, so you nodded and thanked her.

“Have you noticed the bar around the subway station?” you asked as she turned to leave. “Great food, pool table. It’s fun, if you ever want to stop by”

“Oh, you don’t want to play pool against me” she warned and you chuckled.

And yet, the next week you were both there, eating and drinking past midnight. Natalie wasn’t kidding when she said her aim was impeccable and when you lost the third game in a row, you admitted defeat and offered to buy her coffee and a scone of her choice the day after that.

That’s how it became a bit of a habit, to buy coffee for two on certain mornings. If you knew Natalie had an early morning, you’d be the one to drop off a steaming cup of espresso with a danish scone.

Sometimes, you’d find a cup from the cafe around the corner, your name and a smile srcibbled across it.

You were working overtime to convince yourself that you did not have feelings for her. That the nights at the bar, the coffee or lunch time you spent together was nothing more than a friendship.

Until one night, when you were both working late. Your desk was a mess of scattered paperwork, all thanks to Tony’s idiotic actions. Pepper was the new CEO of Stark Industries while he made mess after mess.

“God, I hate him” you read a complaint filed by the police against Tony, who had gotten drunk and worn his suit during his birthday party.

There was also another thing that bothered you about that night. The memory of Natalie, all laughs and flirty eyes as Tony showed her how the suit worked.

You hadn’t realised how hard you were biting the pen until Natalie called your name.

“You have ink all over your lip” she said with a smile and you brought a hand to your mouth, the liquid leaving a bitter taste.

“Oh my God, is the ink toxic? Am I gonna die?” you panicked, looking around for a napkin. Natalie giggled, approaching with a hankerchief.

“It’s fine. Here” the redhead leaned forward, and you blushed as her soft hands cleaned your lower lip. Natalie held your chin between her thumb and index finger, satisfied with the result.

“Thanks” you said, unable to keep your eyes from going to her lips. The action wasn’t lost on Natalie, and before you could apologize, she leaned forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

“Now you have ink too” you said, laughing at the small stain on her lip. She smiled against your mouth, but the happinness was short lived as an explosion made you look outside. “Wow. What the hell was that?" you said, turning around.

It looked like drones were chasing after an Iron Man suit. Natalie grumbled and stood up.

"I have to go"

"Nat?" you followed her down the hallway.

The woman was gone, an apologetic look on her eyes as the elevator doors shut.

—

No calls, no messages, nothing. Not even an email.

You asked IT to keep her account active, just in case.

It had been a whole year; and maybe time to give up hope.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. Natalie had disappeared right after Vanko had tried to kill Tony. Maybe she’d gotten hurt and someone was covering it up?

Whatever it was, the few times you asked Tony about it, he seemed irritated and quickly changed the subject.

And yet, here you were, still looking for answers, resisting the urge to give up on someone who had, for all intents and purposes, ghosted you.

You sighed, turning to look out the window of your office.

Imagine your shock when you saw a fleet of alien ships flying around New York City.

—

Natasha’s eyes were trained on Stark Tower. Were you there? Had you been able to get somewhere safe?

“Romanoff” Rogers called and she looked around.

“Need a lift” she said, creating a plan. All she had to do was take a small detour to your office and then she’d kick Loki’s stupid ass.

However, as she threw the alien off his own ship, she looked around and realised there was no easy way to land.

“Oh, God!” you shouted as a ship crashed through your window. To your surprise, instead of a weird looking creature, it was being flown by…

“Natalie?” you practically screamed, sure that you were having a fever dream.

“Come on, there’s no time. Let’s take you somewhere safe…”

“The whole city is under attack, that’s kind of impossible right now” you yelled, following her closely. “And what the hell is going on with you? Where have you been? And why are you dressed like that?”

It was hard not to notice the tight unitard that adjusted perfectly to every curve in her body.

“Watch out!” the woman said, pushing you aside. She rounded the corner, preparing her guns and shooting against the aliens. Turning casually to you, she spoke in a calm demeanor, as if discussing what movie to watch. “Would you like the short or long story, detka?”

“I don’t think we have time for long stories, Natalie. Is your real name even Natalie?”

“Well, it’s Natasha Romanoff so… close enough?” she said with a weak smile and you glared.

An arrow flew by and Natasha cursed under her breath. You understood why a second later when an explosion shook the building.

“Clint! I’m at Stark Tower, do not engage!” Natasha held a hand to her ear, speaking through comms. She then turned to you and smiled, leading you by the hand to the emergency stairs. “Where were we?”

“Natasha Romanoff. I guess you’re not a paralegal either… oh my God!” you yelled as you spotted a giant green creature coming up the stairs.

“Hulk, Rogers needs back up” Natasha said, completely unfazed by the monster. “Come here” she asked, taking you to a hallway.

“Nat, a bunch of crazy shit is happening and you’re not losing your mind”

“Well, there’s your next answer. I’m a former assassin, born and raised in Russia. Now a SHIELD agent” once the coast was clear, she made you stand up and follow her to the conference room. “I was working undercover to get some info about Tony’s stupid ass. And then I met you. I was about to ask you out on a date because I like you, but the mission was over and I was instructed not to engage again”

“You like me?” you repeated, ignoring the explosions around the city.

“Out of all the things I just said, that’s the one you’re sticking with?”

“Well, duh. Because I like you too” you smiled, pulling her closer for a kiss.

“Now’s not the time” a metallic voice said. You turned to find Tony floating outside the window and you glared. “I was called for an extraction”

“What?”

“Come on, it’s not safe here. Tony will get you out and I’ll meet you once this is over, ok?”

“You better not disappear on me again, Natasha Romanoff”

“Wouldn’t dream of it” she promised.

Once Tony carried you to a safe part of the city, you waited for him to put you down and remove his helmet to slap the back of his head.

“Why?”

“I asked you about her a million times, Tony. You could have told me why she left so suddenly”

“Now you know. I’ll get you a nice restaurant reservation to make up for it. Gotta go!”

As he flew away, you couldn’t help but smile.

Natasha liked you back.

—

Dust settled and emergency services began to approach the city, aiding with evacuation. Your eyes searched Natasha’s as you walked around.

“Detka”

“Are you ok?” running up to her, you brought your hands to her face. She had a small cut in her forehead and seemed tired, but she was alive.

“Yeah. It was fun”

“Fun? I hope our date doesn’t include this type of fun.”

The woman laughed and pulled you close to her.

"Alien invasions are a six month anniversary kind of thing" she joked. You laughed, but kept your eyes on her cut, looking concerned. “I’m ok, really. Nothing a shower won’t fix”

“How about a kiss?” you offered and she smiled, leaning forward to meet your lips; it was short and sweet. A promise of more to come.

“Let’s go back to my place” you said and Natasha’s eyes widened. “For you to shower. Clean that cut, get some sleep. And then, we’ll talk about that date”

“You have yourself a deal”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n

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shanastoryteller · 9 months ago

Note

Happy pride!!!! Dealers choice, but something gender?

a continuation of 1

Steve meets Iron Man and immediately wants to punch him in the face. It probably wouldn’t do much, considering he’s made out of solid metal. But it might make him feel better. And hey, he’s punched though solid metal before.

He’s sarcastic and rude and makes derisive, pithy comments and doesn’t take anything seriously. Plus he immediately starts hitting on Natasha, who’s obviously more than capable of taking care of herself, but it makes him think of all the people who used to underestimate and denigrate Peggy and he has to grit his teeth.

The worst part is it’s clear no one else feels the same way.

Everyone greets him cheerfully, rolling their eyes and laughing at his jokes. Even Natasha likes him, not flirting back but also not shutting it down, easy around him in a way that so far she’s only been around Coulson. Fury and Hill seem to be the only people that share his irritation.

Tony Stark walks onto the hellicarrier, hair short and jeans tight with an MIT sweatshirt several sizes too big, and the first thing she says to Steve is, “Heard you met my better half.”

“What,” he says.

But she’s already moved on, talking excitedly to Bruce Banner who for the first time doesn’t look like he’s contemplating throwing himself off the edge. Everyone else is ignoring her, but Steve can’t look away. She sits at the table and taps her fingers against it, finally getting fed up and interrupting Fury to call him an idiot, arguing about the cube and scepter, and for someone who hadn’t been on the ground she seems to know an awful lot. But Howard had been like that too, never involved with the actual fighting.

Then there’s a couple comments about the armor and repairs and what reinforcements she’ll have to add before Iron Man is sent out again. Her earlier comment clicks into place and he blurts, “You’re married to Iron Man?”

How could an ass like that get a girl like this?

That causes the entire table to go silent.

“Wow,” Natasha says. “Does Rhodes know you’re cheating on him? That would explain why you look like you just rolled off the couch.”

“Shut up, fuck you’re annoying,” Tony says. “No, Rogers, that was a joke. He’s my highly compensated employee and bodyguard who I have strictly professional relations with otherwise Pepper will scratch my eyes out. She’s one more PR disaster away from taking an extended vacation in Bora Bora.”

“And she occasionally releases him from his services to help us fight crime,” Coulson says with a straight face.

She points a finger at him. “I’m going to start billing you for that.”

“You already bill us for texts you send comprising entirely of emojis,” Fury says, deadpan. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Those emojis were instructions on how to diffuse a bomb, and also the tech team understood it, so,” she shrugs. “Perfectly logical. If you have an issue with my billing, take it up with Pepper.”

Steve doesn’t know who Pepper is, but Fury frowns and changes the subject, so she must be pretty intimidating.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #avengers #wanderingthyme

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 7 months ago

Text

The Boss -(long) Oneshot

Word count: 9284 This one got away from me... sorry. Hope you like it, tho!

Part 2 Part 3

Y/N smiled as she stared up at the huge high rise building. It was her first day working at Avengers Legal, the offices of Barnes, Rogers and Stark. She had been really lucky to find an opening as one of the head lawyers’ personal assistants, she just didn’t know which one yet. She had a little background in law, but didn’t go to law school, as much as that killed her parents. A little bump in the road in the shape of her now ex boyfriend had derailed that future, and after freeing herself she was now working on her fresh start. She followed the instructions from the head of HR that she had been in contact with, and walked out of the elevator to the smiley woman sitting at the reception desk.

“Hello, how can I help you?” she asked in a chipper tone.

“Hi, my name is Y/N Y/L/N. It’s my first day?” Y/N said.

“Oh! The new personal assistant! Yes, Pepper told me,” she said happily. She stood and held out her hand. “My name is Kamala Khan. Receptionist.”

“Kamala, that’s beautiful,” Y/N complimented her, and Kamala smiled even wider.

“You’re sweet. I like you already,” Kamala said. “Follow me.” She moved around the desk and walked ahead of Y/N towards the hallway to the right. “Now I don’t know which partner you’re working with,” she said lowly, sidling up to Y/N. “And please don’t let this scare you off, but each of them work differently.”

“Okay,” Y/N said, speaking quietly as well.

“If you get Steve, that’s the Rogers part, he’s a sweetie. Super friendly. If you get Tony, the Stark part, he’ll tease and make fun of you, he’s very sarcastic, and sometimes he’ll flirt or compliment you like crazy, but it’s never gross and he means nothing by it. He’s married to Pepper.” Y/N nodded, intaking all the information as best as she could. “Then there’s James, the Barnes part. He’s the more serious of the three. Friendly, but busy, very professional and no-nonsense. He likes things done quickly and efficiently. If he lets you call him his nickname, Bucky, then you know you’re in the inner circle.”

“Inner circle?” Y/N asked as Kamala stopped in front of a door that read Pepper’s name and title.

“It’s like the main team of Avengers Legal,” Kamala said, nearly whispering. “The partners, their top legal assistants that get to have the most fun or high profile cases, and only the best personal assistants. Those are the ones that get to travel with them, and usually get to network with top of the line people in the industry. It opens a lot of doors,” she said, raising her hand to the door. “So good luck with whoever you get.”

Y/N nodded as Kamala finally knocked. “Come in!” a voice called out. Kamala opened the door and gestured for Y/N to enter first. “Y/N! Welcome,” Pepper said and stood from her desk.

“Hello, it’s good to see you again,” Y/N said, walking over and shaking her hand.

“Thank you, Kamala,” Pepper called out behind her, and Kamala smiled and closed the door. “I’m sure she gave you all the beginner’s gossip,” Pepper smirked as she sat back down and gestured for Y/N to sit at the chair in front of the desk.

“Yes, she did,” Y/N huffed a laugh.

Pepper rolled her eyes. “The partners are all just overworked, typical men. Not nearly as special as they like to think they are.” Y/N bit back a smile. “That being said, after reviewing your profile and discussing things with them, I think you’ll be best fit with Mr. Barnes.” Y/N felt a little trepidation at that from what Kamala had said, but nodded. “He’s…quiet,” Pepper said, choosing her words carefully. “But honestly one of the best attorneys in the state. He runs a tight ship, and expects the best out of anyone working under him. If they disappoint him, he can have quite a temper, but he’s normally very friendly.”

“Are you trying to convince me to back out?” Y/N asked with a smile.

“No! God no, please stay,” Pepper said, waving her hands in front of her. “I’m just trying to forewarn you. He’s had a hard time keeping a personal assistant for the last few years.”

Y/N nodded. “And he is aware that I’m not a paralegal?”

“Yes,” Pepper nodded back. “We don’t blur lines when it comes to personal assistants versus legal assistants.”

“Then I’m ready,” Y/N said.

She signed the contract for her employment, then Pepper gave her a tour of the office and had her meet the teams and other partners. Finally they walked into the office that had his name on it. “Buck? I’d like to introduce you to your new personal assistant,” Pepper said as she held the door open for Y/N. Y/N walked in and took a quick look around at his office before her eyes landed on him sitting in the desk chair. She had to stop her eyes from widening when she met his gaze. That is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

“Meet Y/N Y/L/N. Y/N, this is Bucky. Oh!” Pepper rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry, James.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at Pepper but gave her a teasing smirk. “Thanks Pepper,” he said in a dismissive tone.

Pepper scoffed then squeezed Y/N’s upper arm. “Come see me before you leave today.”

Y/N smiled and nodded at her and Pepper walked out, closing the door behind her. Y/N took that short moment to look him over. Tall, broad shouldered, and from what she could see, built under his suit that was impeccably tailored to him. His dark brown hair was long and tied back in a small man-bun, which was surprising as a lawyer, but that coupled with his full beard offset the austerity of his suit and made him seem approachable. His bright blue eyes were looking her over, too, like he was sizing her up. It was an intense stare, and she had to stop herself from shrinking under his gaze.

She took the initiative and walked forward to his desk. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Barnes,” she said, offering her hand to him.

Bucky looked at her hand then back to her face, his hand reaching forward as he smiled politely. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said, shaking her hand firmly. Y/N made sure to be firm in her grip with him, and his smile slightly widened. “Take a seat, and we can go over what it is I expect from you.”

Y/N sat and took out a notebook and pen from her bag, getting comfortable in her seat then looking up at him expectantly. Bucky seemed to be watching her carefully, and she could start to see a small tell in the type of smirk he gave as to how he was feeling. The wider smirk he gave Pepper was a friendly one, whereas these small ones as he greeted her were when he was impressed with something or pleasantly surprised. They had a good, long discussion about what it was he wanted, how he liked to work with others, his normal routine and the possibility of travel at times, but she wouldn’t hold her breath for that.

“That’s about everything I can think of,” Bucky said. “Any questions?”

“Yes, what’s your favorite drink order?” Y/N asked as she finished jotting down her last notes.

Bucky scoffed. “My favorite drink order?”

Y/N smiled. “Just in case.”

His impressed smirk came back. “Lately it’s been sweetened matcha.”

“Sweetened with what?” Y/N asked.

“Surprise me,” Bucky said.

Y/N smiled widely. “Yes sir.”

Bucky frowned. “No sirs. Mr. Barnes in front of clients, otherwise Bucky is fine.”

She beamed at him for accepting her so quickly. “Alright…Bucky.”

***

This job was a baptism by fire. Y/N was thrown into work life with Bucky, accompanying him all around the city, taking endless notes in meetings and relaying messages to his legal team. Per Bucky’s request she became close with all the assistants on his legal team, learning the process of working on a case and seeing how they all worked together. She also scheduled everything in his personal life, making sure he was getting to doctor's appointments, picking up the dry cleaning, making sure the house cleaner was on time, taking personal phone calls during the work day, and handling anything else she could anticipate for him.

Kamala was right, he was very particular and wanted efficiency above all else. He didn’t like people wasting his time, and expected everyone to be at their best while at work. There were times Y/N would catch him having a casual moment with one of the other partners, Steve, who was his best friend from childhood. He would laugh at something Steve said and she’d be gifted with the sight of his full, real smile that he rarely gave anyone. That being said, as the months went by he was opening up to Y/N, teasing her, making jokes and even at times bordering on flirtatious.

Steve was still looking for a new personal assistant, since his previous one, Peggy, he just so happened to start dating seriously, and since they struggled to differentiate work versus their personal lives she had resigned. Every once in a while Bucky would lend Y/N out to Steve to help with some things that he needed while Pepper was in the process of finding him a new assistant. “Good morning, Steve,” Y/N greeted him one day while she was helping him for a week. She daintily put down a large coffee cup in front of him and his eyes widened.

“Oh you angel,” he whispered, grabbing the warm cup. He brought it to his lips, taking a slow sip and he hummed appreciatively. “You’re heaven sent, you know that?”

“I know,” Y/N smirked.

“Oh I see how it is,” Bucky’s voice came from behind her. She turned to find him walking toward her into Steve’s office with a teasing smile. “One week with this jerk and you forget all about me.”

“Punk,” Steve spat as he sipped his coffee.

Y/N rolled her eyes and held up the other cup in her hand. “How could I forget your cafe style sweetened matcha with three pumps of lavender and oat milk?” Bucky hung his head and huffed a laugh as he took the cup from her. “You just came here before I had a chance to come to you. So needy,” Y/N teased him. She took out her work phone provided by the firm and started scrolling. “By the way, your date from last week keeps texting and calling. What excuse do you want me to give dearest Dottie?”

Bucky groaned and Steve laughed loudly. “What was wrong with this one, Buck?” Steve snorted.

Bucky glanced at Y/N like he wasn’t sure how to talk about it in front of her. “Well, judging by these texts, she’s very thirsty,” Y/N said in a deadpanned tone, making Steve almost spit out his coffee. “Like, all of the time,” Y/N said. “Shall I?” she smiled wickedly, waving the phone in front of Bucky’s face.

His eyes widened and he slammed the drink down before lunging toward her to grab the phone but she sidestepped him and ran behind Steve’s desk. “Read it! Read it!” Steve said, standing from his chair to block Bucky from getting to Y/N.

“Don’t you dare!” Bucky growled as he tried to go through Steve.

“‘Let me know when I can see you again, baby. We can pick up where we left off,’” Y/N read, her voice taking on an exaggerated Bronx, New York accent like what she’d heard from Dottie’s voicemails.

“Oooh where did you leave off, Buck?” Steve asked.

Bucky tried to push past him. “No where,” he grunted.

“These get worse by the day,” Y/N frowned as she read through them. She had mostly ignored them every time she saw Dottie’s name pop up, not engaging in her constant ramblings in trying to get his attention. This was why he gave out the work cell phone number rather than his actual, personal one. “‘I want your tongue so deep inside me I can taste it,’” she read in the accent again, her eyes wide and eyebrows raised high. “Good Lord.”

Bucky finally got past Steve and ran after Y/N as she squeaked and ran out of Steve’s office, Steve’s laugh echoing down the hallway as she moved as fast as her heels would allow her. She ducked into an empty conference room and ran around the table, Bucky on the other side. “‘I feel like a vampire, I wanna suck everything out of you,’” Y/N read, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Jesus, Bucky, where do you find these girls?” He edged around the table toward her and she jerked to the side, making him frown deeper at her. He suddenly jumped and slid over the table, making Y/N screech as she tried to run but he caught her with his arms around her waist, hoisting her up off her feet. She kept the phone out of his reach as he tried to maneuver her to take it from her. “Ooh this one is really naughty,” she giggled. Bucky pushed her into the corner of the room, making her face him as he grabbed at her hands. He finally caught her wrists and as he held them together she read: “‘Fuck me like an animal. I wanna be your little cum slut,’” she finished, laughing at the end of the phrase and losing the accent.

Bucky pried the phone out of her fingers. Y/N’s laugh died on her lips as she looked up at him and saw the look on his face. He wasn’t frowning or smiling, but looked surprised and…aroused. Y/N realized the position they were in. She was pushed in the corner, his leg between her legs with his knee almost cradling her core, the rest of his torso pushing against her front to keep her there, his hand holding both of her wrists against his chest and his face hovering mere inches from her face. His eyes flicked back and forth between her eyes, then glanced at her lips.

Y/N gasped and pushed him away, Bucky quickly backing up with the phone in his hand. He exhaled sharply, his eyes widening. “I…I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said quietly.

“It’s okay, it’s my fault,” Y/N said, shaking her head and looking down. “I’m sorry…I got carried away. I’ll um, let you handle that and you can give it back when you’re done,” she said, glancing at the phone, then gave him a quick look and walked away. She nearly ran to the bathroom, hiding in one of the stalls and sliding down to the floor as she tried to even out her breathing. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Bucky to touch her, in fact she’d had way too many dirty dreams starring him doing much worse things to her since she started working here. She would gladly fuck Bucky, but she didn’t want to lose her job or have to give it up like Peggy had with Steve. She needed this job. She needed to take care of herself, so that if he ever came around, she wouldn’t fall for it all again.

***

The rest of that day she had focused solely on Steve and all he needed her to do. When the day was over she marched toward the front door by the reception desk where she found Bucky talking to Kamala.

“Oh, have a good night, Y/N!” Kamala called out to her and waved.

“You, too, K,” Y/N said quickly, giving her a quick smile. She glanced at Bucky quickly. “G’night Buck.” She walked fast out of the office toward the elevator down the hall. She heard Buck say goodbye to Kamala then follow her out.

“Y/N, hey, hold on,” he called out to her.

She sighed silently as she pushed the down button and turned to face him with a polite smile. “Yes?”

Bucky stared at her for a moment before the elevator dinged and they both entered the elevator. Y/N pressed the parking floor level button and leaned back against the elevator wall. Bucky’s mouth opened and closed multiple times before he finally turned to face her with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, again,” he said, his voice sounding strained.

“It’s fine, Buck–”

“No, it’s not,” he interrupted her. “I shouldn’t have…roughhoused you like that.”

Y/N chuckled. “Roughhoused?”

“Yes, I’m an old man, don’t judge me,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes, a small smile on his face.

“I’m sorry I teased you with the texts so much,” Y/N said. “I just have a bit of a…history, and it threw me for a loop for a second.” He looked at her quizzically but she didn’t want to explain. “She’s got quite the vocabulary,” she said with a teasing smirk, changing the subject.

Bucky snorted, hanging his head as Y/N laughed. “Yeah, it was uh…quite the date,” he said. “That’s why I didn’t text her back. It was all just a bit much.” Y/N hummed and he handed the work phone back to her. “I politely told her to get lost and blocked her number,” he said. She took the phone and nodded. “I really am sorry,” he repeated. Y/N met his gaze. He was sincere and repentant, a knowing look in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt or scare you.”

Y/N stared at him for a moment before giving him a small smile. “I know.”

***

Y/N was walking by the reception desk one day on her way back in from lunch when she stopped in her tracks. Kamala was speaking to a man that Y/N recognized. It was Vic, her ex. Kamala looked uncomfortable and met Y/N’s gaze with a concerned look. Y/N’s eyes were wide and she shook her head minutely, hoping Kamala would get the message. Kamala looked down then back up at Vic. “I’m sorry, we don’t have anyone here by that name,” she said sweetly. “Maybe you have the wrong address?” She distracted him, making him face away enough that Y/N was able to slip by down the hallway. Once she was out of earshot she ran into Bucky’s office, closing the door and locking it behind herself. She was panting, trying to calm herself.

“Y/N?” Bucky’s voice came from behind her. She whirled around to face him. He looked confused. She held her finger to her mouth and a call came into his office phone. He frowned and answered the call. “Yes?” he asked. He listened for a moment before looking at Y/N. “A Victor Creed is here to see me?” Y/N shook her head frantically, her eyes stinging with tears flowing fast. Bucky’s face shifted into a look of surprise at her response as he stood. “I’ll come up front in a moment,” he said before hanging up. He rounded his desk and reached out to her, taking her hands in his. “Who is he?” he asked quietly.

“History,” Y/N whispered.

Bucky’s face twisted in recognition at the conversation they’d had weeks before, then his expression became stony. “Stay here. Lock the door. I’ll knock twice once it’s safe.”

Y/N sniffled and nodded as he squeezed her hands, then had her stay behind the door as he opened it and walked down the hallway. She locked it behind him and stood stock still as she waited and listened. She could only hear muffled voices for a few minutes, then Vic’s voice getting louder before a slammed door made her jump. Footsteps came back down the hallway, then two quiet knocks on the door. She sighed as she unlocked the door with a shaky hand. Bucky slowly opened it, watching her carefully. “He’s gone,” he said, taking a step toward her with his hands up. “Kamala is calling security to have him trespassed from the building.” Y/N nodded, gnawing on her lip as her arms were tensed and tightly wrapped around herself. “It’s okay. You’re safe. Everything’s going to be alright,” he said quietly. She swallowed harshly as her tears kept falling. “Can I give you a hug?” Bucky asked.

Y/N stared at him for a moment before a sob broke through, and she nodded as she hung her head. Bucky stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to his chest as she cried heavily. She gripped the lapels of his suit jacket, shivering against him. “I told him it was over,” she cried. “I told him to leave me alone.”

Bucky’s fingers pet the back of her head, running through her hair. “This isn’t your fault, Y/N,” he said quietly. “He’s obviously stalking you.”

She nodded against his chest. After another moment of him holding her she pulled away and sniffed quickly, wiping her face. “God, ugh, I’m sorry,” she grunted, clearing her throat. “I’m so sorry to bring this…drama to the workplace. I thought I had handled it but apparently not. I completely understand if you have to let me go–”

“Why the hell would I do that?” Bucky scoffed. “You’re the best personal assistant I’ve ever had.” He stepped toward her again and reached for her hands, holding her fingers lightly as his thumbs ran over her knuckles. “Here’s what we’re going to do. He’s being trespassed from the building. You will be escorted by security, or at the very least one of us, to and from your car every day.”

“Buck you don’t have to–”

“Like hell I don’t,” he interrupted her with a stern look. “You’ll turn on your location on the work phone and share it with me and the others. And you and I are going to go to the police station to make a report, go online and fill out a protective order or stalking injunction, then drop it off at the court later.” Y/N’s tears came back. She hadn’t been able to rely on anyone for years, had lost all contact and close relationships with her friends and family because of him, so to have someone worry and care about her enough to try to help her was overwhelming. Bucky let go of one of her hands and reached that hand up to wipe away her new tears. “Okay?” he asked.

“Okay,” she nodded.

***

Bucky, the other partners, and the entire office was a godsend to Y/N. He had accompanied her when they filled out the protective order and turned it into the courthouse, then to the police station as she made a report. Working in a law firm was helpful in that she was able to file a cease and desist by the end of the day, and with Bucky’s connections to certain officers at the station was able to know when Vic was served with everything. Over the next few weeks she was accompanied to and from work from her car in the parking garage by someone, usually Bucky, Steve, Tony, and at other times by some of the paralegals. Scott was one of her favorites, always making it seem like she was the president and he was the secret service.

She was grateful to all of them for their efforts and willingness to help her. It made her feel like a burden, but she was quickly reminded that they really didn’t mind when she brought it up. Her protective order was granted, and she proceeded into getting a restraining order since they lasted longer.

Five months later as Bucky’s team was working late on a big case she packed up her bag. “Alright, I’m heading out,” she announced to the room.

They all hummed or bid her half-hearted farewells, their attention all focused on the paperwork in front of them. Bucky’s head snapped up. “Hold on, doll, let me walk you down.”

“Bucky, it’s fine, honestly,” Y/N waved away his concern, backing up to the front door. “It’s been months. I’m sure I’ll be fine. You shouldn’t have to babysit me–”

“Freeze,” he barked at her. Y/N’s eyes widened and she stood still, everyone else falling silent at his raised voice. “I’m coming with you,” he said with no room for argument. He slipped his jacket back on and grabbed his keys before walking up to her. “Let’s go,” he said in a quiet, much more gentle tone.

The ride in the elevator and walk to her car was silent. Once she had unlocked her car door and put her purse in she turned to Bucky. “Thank you–”

“Y/N, I need you to understand something,” Bucky interrupted her. He was frowning, looking down at her with an intensity she’d never seen directed at her before. “You are not a burden. I am not babysitting you. I want to help you. I want you to be safe. I need you…” he paused, swallowing harshly. “I care about you,” he said quietly.

Y/N stared at him in disbelief. She had made good friendships at the office, and she and Bucky had become close, with her managing every aspect of his job and life for over a year. She trusted him, and if she were honest with herself, she liked him as much more than her boss, and more than a friend. But to hear it from him in this context made her feel emotional. She felt tears start stinging her eyes and blinked rapidly to make them go away.

“Thank you,” she replied. “I appreciate that. I…I care about you, too.”

Bucky watched her for a moment before taking a step toward her. He looked down at her for a moment, the intensity in his eyes making her knees feel weak. His gaze fell to their feet then he wound an arm around her shoulders and hugged her, kissing her forehead lightly. “I’ll see you Monday,” he whispered into her hair.

Y/N gently hugged him back, enjoying how his cologne wrapped around her like a blanket. She closed her eyes as he held her, then opened them when he stepped away. “See you,” she said quickly. She gave him a small smile then got into her car. Bucky stepped back and watched her drive away. Y/N didn’t know what to think of the interaction. It wasn’t necessarily work appropriate, but also not quite wrong between friends outside of work. When she got home she tried to shake it off as another strange moment as she took off her heels and dropped her bag in the entryway. She walked to the kitchen, pulling some things out to make a quick dinner when she felt like something was off. She glanced around, then saw a shadow in the corner of the dining room. She froze when she saw Vic standing there out of the corner of her eye, watching her. Y/N knew it was too late, and subtly called the last number she had called, which just so happened to be Bucky.

As it rang quietly she turned around and faced Vic head on, looking him in the eye. When she could hear Bucky pick up she spoke loud enough for him to hear. “What are you doing here, Vic?” she asked, her voice sounding angry, which she was thankful for with how afraid she was.

Vic chuckled and stepped toward the kitchen into the light. He looked rougher than the last time she saw him, like he hadn’t been eating, and he smelled like he hadn’t showered in a long while. His eyes were bloodshot, and with how he swayed as he walked she could tell he was either extremely drunk or high on something. “Hey princess,” he slurred. “Just came to see how things are going. How’s the new boy toy treating you?”

“Boy toy?” Y/N scoffed. “Who are you talking about?”

“That boss of yours,” Vic snarled, stumbling toward her. He tried to reach out and grab her, but she quickly stepped out of his reach. He grunted as he righted himself.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Y/N said. “Even if he was, you have no right to be jealous of me or who I associate with. We are not together.”

“Right, you being an ‘independent’ woman and all,” Vic mocked her, making air quotes with his fingers.

“Y/N! I’m coming!” she heard Bucky’s voice muffled against her chest from her phone.

Y/N tried to keep her wits about her, thinking through her options. Help was coming. Bucky was coming. Just keep talking. “I am now,” she asserted herself. She angled her body sideways, getting into a better fighting stance and turning toward the front door. “You hurt me, Vic. You controlled, isolated, and abused me. And I deserve better than that.”

Vic laughed. “You deserve what I think you deserve. Which right now, is to be my little cumslut, like you used to be when you were a good little princess. So, get on your knees,” he said, rushing toward her.

Y/N punched him, making his head whip to the side, then used his drunkenness against him as she pushed him as hard as she could away from her, making him stumble and fall to the floor. Y/N held her phone as she ran to the front door. As she was unlocking it Vic ran up behind her and lifted her off her feet, throwing her back toward the dining room where she fell hard on the floor. The phone clattered a few feet away from her, and as she crawled toward it Vic grabbed her feet, trying to pull her back. She kicked and screamed, hearing Bucky’s voice faintly yelling through the phone.

As Vic was able to turn her to her back, she punched him again, enraging him further. “You stupid bitch!” he screamed in her face.

Y/N screamed back in his face, then Vic was pulled back off of her. She gasped as she saw Bucky wrench Vic away, put him in a chokehold and fall on top of him. Vic struggled, scratching at Bucky’s arms and hands as he choked and gasped for air. Bucky grunted and tightened his grip more. “Go to sleep, fucker,” he growled. After another minute Vic slowly lost control of his arms, his eyes rolling back in his head until he passed out. Bucky let go of him, but stayed on top of him in case he woke up. “Call the police,” Bucky glanced at her.

***

She watched the police officers and paramedics work on Vic in the entryway, loading him on a gurney that he was promptly handcuffed to. They checked her and Bucky over, treating the scratches on Bucky’s hands and arms and her bruises and scrapes. She was questioned by police officers as they took pictures of her and Bucky’s injuries as well as the knocked over furniture in her apartment. Y/N answered them as best as she could, Bucky sitting with her the entire time until they finally left.

“Y/N?” Bucky called to her, turning to face her. She looked at him blankly. He was watching her carefully, reaching a hand out and taking hers closest to him. “Do you wanna stay here tonight?” She shook her head fervently. “You can stay with me if you want,” he offered. “Would you like to do that?”

Y/N nodded absentmindedly. She couldn’t think of anything better in that moment than a shower and a different place to stay. Bucky helped her pack a bag, then guided her out of her apartment to the parking lot. He helped her into his car, and she melted into the front seat. She felt numb, unable to get her thoughts together to form anything coherent. The rational part of her mind knew that it was trying to protect itself from the trauma of the night, but she couldn’t quite come to that conclusion yet.

She was almost falling asleep when Bucky pulled into the garage of a home. He got out and helped her out of the car, carrying her bag as he guided her into the house. He led her through the house until he walked into what looked like a guest bedroom, setting her bag on the bed. He turned to look at her. “The bathroom is there,” he pointed at a door in the corner. He looked at her nervously. “Do you…do you need, um, help?”

Y/N stared at him for a long moment. She didn’t know what she wanted. Her eyes flicked around the room. “I…I don’t…know,” she whispered.

Bucky nodded. “Okay, well, how about you go shower, and uh, here,” he opened her bag and pulled out some pajamas and underwear, walking to the bathroom and putting the clothes down before coming back out, “and I’ll wait here just in case. Is that okay?”

Y/N nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered. She couldn’t seem to find her voice, afraid that if she were any louder it would somehow make everything real. Bucky nodded and gave her a small, reassuring smile before he sat himself on the bed. Y/N walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind herself. She felt like she was jerky in her movements as she stripped herself of her clothes, heaping them in the sink. She stared at herself in the mirror for a moment. Her hair was a mess from fighting him off, her mascara streaked down her face from the tears she unknowingly shed earlier, and a bruise showing near her hairline from when she hit the ground. She shivered and turned on the shower. The water was too hot, but she barely felt it as she washed herself.

Y/N turned off the water and walked out of the shower. She wrapped herself in a towel as she dried off, fixing her hair and rubbing her face. She looked at herself in the mirror again. Back to normal, she thought. But this wasn’t normal. Nothing about tonight was normal. Nothing about her life for the past few years had been normal. The adrenaline seemed to all wear off in a second, and her sobriety made her gasp. She doubled over as the soreness from the fight hit her out of nowhere, and she cried out as she held herself and kneeled to the floor.

“Y/N?” Bucky’s voice called out from behind the door. “Are you alright? What was that noise?” She couldn’t answer. Her throat was closed, choking on sobs. “I’m coming in,” he warned her, then the door opened. He looked around, finding her on the floor in the fetal position. “Oh, doll,” he cooed, kneeling down quickly. Bucky’s arms cradled her, moving her until he was able to help her stand. “Come on,” he said, grabbing her clothes and leading her to the bed. She cried as he held her, her face buried into his collarbone, her fingers gripping his shirt tightly. He sat her on the bed and kneeled in front of her to catch her eye, reaching a hand up and wiping away her tears. “Can I help you get dressed?” he whispered. Y/N nodded as she hung her head in her hands. She didn’t care about how awkward or inappropriate this was at this point. Bucky handed her her underwear, then closed his eyes. Y/N dropped the towel and put on her underwear quickly. Bucky then blindly grabbed her shirt, opening his eyes while his head was facing down as he fixed the shirt, then closed his eyes again as he held it up so she could slip her head and arms through it. He did the same for her sleep shorts, the backs of his fingertips sliding along her thighs and hips momentarily.

Bucky then stood and opened his eyes, looking down at her as he stepped forward in between her legs. He slowly cupped her face in his hands and made her look at him. “I know it’s a really stupid question, but, are you okay?” he asked.

“No,” Y/N shook her head, a fresh wave of tears starting to fall. “He…he was going to hurt me again.”

Bucky nodded. “I know, but you did the right thing in calling for help. I’m just sorry I couldn’t get there sooner,” he said, biting his lip when it trembled. “And you fought back, Y/N. You fought hard and you won. Do you hear me?” he dipped his head down to be eye level with her. “You won. He’ll never hurt you again. You protected yourself, and I’m so proud of you,” he paused, his voice wobbling with emotion. “I’m proud of you for keeping yourself safe. God, when I saw him on top of you I–” he gritted his teeth, frowning deeply. “I can’t lose you.”

Y/N stared at him. He’d confessed he cared about her earlier that night, but now he seemed like he maybe cared more than he’d let on. “I’m just your assistant,” she said.

Bucky chuckled. “Best assistant I’ve ever had,” he smiled. “But you, you’re…like I said, I care about you.”

Y/N eyed him warily, but she was too exhausted to try to argue or read into it anymore for the night. She sighed and nodded. “I need to sleep,” she whispered, her body feeling like it could collapse at any moment.

“Okay,” Bucky agreed, moving to the top of the bed and turning down the covers, helping her get situated.

“Please stay,” Y/N said, grabbing his wrist.

Bucky’s eyes widened but he nodded. “Okay.”

He sat at the end of the bed as Y/N got comfortable. After she shifted repeatedly she looked at him. “Could you, um…would you please…hold me?” she asked hesitantly.

Bucky immediately nodded. “Yeah,” he said, then climbed up the bed. He settled under the covers and held his arms open to her. Y/N scooted close to him, her head tucked under his chin, resting against his chest, and the moment his arms were wrapped around her protectively she cried again, this time quietly, her body trembling as it tried to relax. “It’s okay, doll, I’ve got you,” he mumbled, kissing the top of her head. “You’re safe. You’re safe here. You can stay as long as you want. I’m right here…” He rambled on for a while, his low voice helping soothe her nerves and lull her to sleep. The last thing she felt was his hands rubbing her back gently, his lips kissing her forehead.

***

Y/N woke up the next morning extremely warm and comfortable. The bed underneath her was…moving? She shifted herself, realizing that the bed she was on was a body. Her head snapped up and looked to see Bucky. He was still asleep, laying on his back with Y/N draped across his side, her head still on his chest, her arm across his waist and her leg hiked up over his groin and legs. A flood of memories rushed in her head, making her shut her eyes tight at the headache it caused. She laid her head back down on his chest, groaning at the soreness in her body. His arm draped across her back that held her against him instinctively tightened and he hummed as his free hand bent up and under his head, making him look relaxed. Y/N couldn’t help but to stare at him. Getting to see Bucky asleep was quite the sight. The nearly perpetual frown he had at work when focusing on cases and handling issues was gone, making him look younger and peaceful.

Y/N reached a hand up and softly scratched at the beard hair on his chin, caressing his cheek and tracing along different parts of his face. She felt like she was skipping a lot of steps, and that this was definitely inappropriate, but couldn’t find it in herself to care. His eyes fluttered as she traced down his nose, and he started to wake up. She tucked herself back into his side quickly, closing her eyes as Bucky started to squirm. He groaned beneath her, stretching as best as he could with her nearly on top of him before she felt his lips on her forehead again. “Y/N,” he grunted, then cleared his throat. “Good morning.” Y/N didn’t want to move. She didn’t answer and his free hand shuffled from underneath his head to reach down and poke her side gently. “Come on, doll, time to wake up,” he said quietly.

She hummed unhappily, shaking her head against his chest. “Five more minutes,” she rasped.

Bucky chuckled, making her shake. “As comfortable as I am, let’s get you fed, huh?” She shook her head again, her arms tightening around him. He shifted himself to face her, wrapping his arms around her in a hug. “Were you touching my face?” he asked, a teasing tone in his voice. Y/N hid her face into his chest to hide her blush. Bucky chuckled again. “Why were you touching my face?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N replied, her voice muffled in his shirt. “You just looked so…peaceful and cozy.”

He hummed, the vibration in his chest warming her face. She finally moved and looked up at him, meeting his tired gaze. “Hi,” he whispered.

“Good morning,” Y/N whispered back with a small smile.

“How are you feeling today?” he asked quietly, reaching a hand up and moving her hair out of her face.

“Hm…tired, and sore,” she groaned. Her stomach growled then, and it made him smile widely.

“And hungry,” he smirked. “Come on.” They both slowly got up, and separated for a few minutes to get cleaned up and ready for the day. He met her at the door to the guest bedroom and led her to the kitchen, where he had her sit at the bar stool at the island while he gathered some food together. “You like waffles?” he asked.

“I love waffles,” Y/N smiled brightly.

While Bucky worked on breakfast Y/N took a look around the kitchen. Since they had come to his house late at night and she had been merely surviving emotionally at the time she hadn’t been able to get a good look at the house. She gazed at the design and layout of the kitchen that was open to the dining room, and just beyond an arched wall she could see into an office, sitting room area. The entire house was a moody, dark academia style, making her smile again. Dark and brooding but with charming aspects, like the man making her waffles.

“I love your house,” she said, catching his attention. “Did you have it designed?”

“I did,” Bucky smiled, plating a waffle for her. “My sister is an interior designer.”

“Your sister?” Y/N asked with raised eyebrows. “How did I not know you have a sister?”

“Just because you’re my personal assistant doesn’t mean I’m gonna tell you everything,” he smirked as he handed her the plate, along with a butter dish and the maple syrup.

“Obviously not,” Y/N smirked back at him. She buttered the waffle and poured the syrup before cutting into it and taking a bite. She sighed happily at the taste, giving Bucky an appreciative nod, making him smile. “So good,” she mumbled around the mouthful.

“Good,” Bucky said, then turned to make some more. He cooked up some eggs and poured her some coffee and juice. He leaned on the island across from her and ate as well, both of them getting their fill until the waffles and eggs were gone. He took the dishes and put them in the dishwasher before turning back to face her again. He stared at her for a minute before licking his lips.

Y/N sighed. She couldn’t keep playing this back and forth, weird sexual tension game anymore. Her emotions were all over the place, and annoyance was winning. “You keep saying ‘I care about you.’ What does that mean?”

Bucky’s eyes widened as he frowned. “It means I care about you. I want to help you, like I said. I’ve seen these things happen before and I couldn’t just let it be–”

“‘I’ve seen these things happen before.’ So you wanted to save me.” She knew she was lashing out, but couldn’t stop herself. “But it’s never happened to you, has it?” Y/N slipped off the stool, rounded the island and came toe to toe with him, Bucky backing up slightly at her voice raising. “You don’t know what it feels like to be afraid every day. You don’t know what it’s like to be stalked, harassed, beaten, raped, broken! So why do you care so much?!” She asked, her eyes burning with more tears falling.

Bucky’s own eyes looked teary as he looked down at her sadly. “My sister was in an abusive relationship,” he said quietly. “He almost killed her. She got away and didn’t want help, but it haunted her. She was a shell of herself. I couldn’t lose her, she’s the only family I have left,” he swallowed harshly. “So I helped her as best as I could. It took her a while, but eventually she got better, and is still healing. I don’t know how it feels. I don’t know what you need. I just want to help,” he said, his lips pressing together firmly.

Y/N digested his words, her mind still feeling slow in processing things. She blinked rapidly as she sniffed. “Fine,” she agreed. Bucky seemed relieved and nodded. “I’m going to get my stuff, then I’ll be out of your hair,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Don’t do that,” Bucky said gruffly back.

“Don’t do what?” Y/N asked.

“Don’t push me away just because I offered you help. Don’t get angry and defensive because someone wants to take care of you,” he replied.

“I never asked for your help,” she said quietly.

“Stop it,” Bucky said, stepping closer to her. “If you didn’t want help you wouldn’t have called me.”

She stared up at him defiantly. He was close to her like that day when she teased him in the office a while ago. Y/N wanted to push him, see how far he was willing to go in this back and forth they’d been having for so long. “I care about you,” kept rattling around in her head as she tried to make sense of it. Yes, he cared. But it felt like something else. Something more simmering underneath the words.

“You care so much,” she sneered, stepping even closer. “Why?”

“Because I’m a good person?” Bucky said incredulously.

She shook her head. “And?”

He looked like he was fighting against himself. “I don’t need another reason. And I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

“Is it because you want something from me?” she ventured. “You help me and I’ll be so eternally grateful I’ll throw myself at you?”

Bucky recoiled. “Stop that.”

“Well that’s what you want, right?” Y/N pushed further. “I saw it that day when Steve and I were teasing you, and it went a little too far. You wanted more,” her eyes flickered to his lips and back to his eyes.

Bucky shut his eyes and shook his head, taking a step back. “Y/N, you just went through something traumatic. You’re lashing out because you don’t know how to handle it right now–”

Y/N said, stepping toward him again. “All I need is a straight answer. You wanted more, yes or no?”

Bucky opened his eyes but couldn’t keep her gaze. “It doesn’t matter what I want,” he said, his jaw ticking when he finished.

“Still didn’t answer my question,” Y/N said, sounding more annoyed. “You wanna help me? Think of this as my first round of therapy. I’m working through some rough feelings right now, Boss. I need an answer!”

“Yes! Okay? Goddammit,” Bucky said, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Yes, I want more with you. But that doesn’t matter. Especially right now. I’m not going to take advantage of a highly emotional moment in your life and try to slip in just to ‘get some,’ that’s not what I want. And it’s insulting to me that you think that of me,” Bucky pointed his finger at her. “Some people really do just care about you, you know that? Some people really just want to help because they care about you, because they like you, they love you!”

Y/N was fully crying again, her arms holding herself even more tightly than before. His raised voice was making her shrink into herself. “No one loves me,” she whispered.

“I do!” Bucky yelled.

Y/N flinched and Bucky’s face crumpled. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Y/N said, taking a step back. “Just please stop yelling.”

Bucky sighed heavily, his hand rubbing his face harshly before he raised his hands in front of himself like he was surrendering. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to yell,” he said quietly. “Please, I…I’m just trying to help.”

Y/N bit her lip as she tried to control her crying, but instead it just made her choke on a sob that broke through. She wasn’t scared of Bucky. She knew he would never hurt her, but the raised voice and yelling was triggering. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for questioning you and your motives. I’m sorry,” she tried stepping away but he walked toward her.

“Y/N,” he pleaded. “Don’t run away. Please, I’m sorry,” he reached toward her, leaving his hand outstretched with his palm up as an invitation.

Y/N’s eyes flicked from his hand to his face repeatedly. The dichotomy of wanting to run away and hide versus wanting to be comforted was making her panic. Ultimately she slowly reached out and gave him her hand. Bucky slowly stepped toward her, taking her hand and holding it gently but firmly as he pulled her towards him. She stepped toward him hesitantly, and he moved slowly as he wrapped his arms around her, watching her reactions carefully. He pulled her until their bodies were flush against each other and her arms wrapped behind his back, tucking her face into the crook of his neck. His hand moved to hold the back of her head against him gently, running his fingers through her hair as they breathed deeply, and she matched her breathing to his to calm down. “I do want you,” he whispered in her ear. “I do like you. If I’m honest, I’ve been falling in love with you since the moment I met you.”

Y/N huffed a short laugh against his skin. “I knew it,” she whispered.

“Can you blame me?” Bucky chuckled, nuzzling her hair with his nose.

Y/N smiled. “Thank you, Bucky. I’m sorry I…I don’t know what’s going on with me right now.”

“It’s okay, I understand,” Bucky breathed, squeezing her tighter. He pulled away just enough to look at her.

They stared at each other and she gulped. “Can I have…could we try…one k-kiss?” she asked.

Bucky’s eyes minutely widened, inhaling sharply. “I-I don’t know if I could…stop myself at one,” he confessed.

“That’s okay,” Y/N said.

Bucky’s eyes flickered to her lips and back to her eyes. His hands moved from her back up to her face, cupping her cheeks and angling her head upwards. “You want me?” he asked breathily. Y/N nodded as he leaned forward, angling his head and brushing his lips across hers first, like he was testing the waters of his own sanity. He finally fully pressed his lips on hers and kissed her softly.

Y/N sucked in a breath, kissing him back just as softly. It was just as perfect as she had dreamt it would be, from all those nights she had fallen asleep to the thought of him, while chastising herself for her feelings and denying it. It ended too soon when he pulled away, though not too far as his nose nuzzled her nose. Y/N whimpered at the loss, and he had to shut his eyes tight again. “Fuck, doll, that was a pretty noise,” he groaned. His fingers slipped back into her hair. “More?” he begged.

Y/N nodded and he kissed her again. This one was firmer, heavier, and his grip on her was tighter. Her fingers fisted his shirt, her arms pulling him by the waist impossibly closer to her as she angled her head more and pushed up on her tip-toes to deepen the kiss. Bucky grunted, and before she knew it he was picking her up and setting her on the kitchen counter. The kisses were passionate, Bucky’s tongue sneaking out to lick at her bottom lip and Y/N opening up to him easily. They tasted each other, nipping at each other’s lips, their hands roaming each other’s bodies. Bucky was standing between her spread legs, his hands now kneading her thighs up to her hips as she tasted him and sucked on his tongue.

“Holy shit, doll,” he moaned when she released him. “I just wanna make it clear that I’m not trying to take advantage of you in a fragile state–”

“Just fuck me, Bucky,” Y/N groaned, running her fingers through his hair and pulling him back in for a seering kiss.

“Yeah…yeah okay,” Bucky huffed against her mouth, picking her up and carrying her back to the guest room.

***

When they got to work that next Monday Y/N was greeted with excited smiles and hugs. Apparently word had spread quickly. “Oh! I’m so glad you’re okay!” Kamala said, hugging her tightly.

Steve stepped up afterward, hugging her like she was his little sister. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he said quietly. “So proud of you.”

Y/N smiled appreciatively at him. “Thank you. Thank you, everybody,” she waved at them all. “I’m fine, really.”

“Now quit distracting my assistant. Fuck off!” Bucky said loudly, and they all went back to work in a hurry, Steve just rolling his eyes and smiling as he walked off to his office. Bucky had his hand on her lower back as he guided her towards his office. Once they were inside he shut the door. “Take a seat, doll,” he said. “Let’s go over the schedule.”

“Alright,” Y/N nodded, getting herself settled and her notebook and phone ready. “And uh, thank you, by the way, for kinda saving me back there.”

“No need to thank me,” Bucky shook his head. “Now listen, I know we’re in a weird spot right now. I want this,” he gestured between the two of them, “to work, but I don’t want you to lose this job on account of that, either. And you’re honestly the best personal assistant I’ve ever had. So, I want work to be work, and home to be home. Does that sound fair?”

“Yes,” she nodded, smiling at how business-like he sounded.

“Great,” he nodded back. “So…the schedule.”

THE END?

#marvel #smut #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #request #anon ask #ask #long oneshot

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innerempire · 5 months ago

Text

guys.

Tony’s a guest judge on the latest season on Masterchef meant for those in the 18-21 year old category. He’s not sure why the fuck he’s there when he can’t differentiate shit in the kitchen, but he’s definitely there to bump up the ratings.

He’s supposed to be giving insightful comments, maybe give a pep talk or two, comfort a candidate during a meltdown, but goes absolutely speechless when the first person to present his dish is 18 year old Peter Parker from Queens.

“Tony.” Rhodey hisses from the side. “Tony.”

“Absolutely brilliant. Five stars. You know what? Make it ten. It’s fantastic. Cooked just right.”

Beside Tony, Rhodey’s trying not to cuss up a storm, “You haven’t even tasted it, man!”

Tony accepts the fork that’s handed to him, his gaze still fixed on pink-cheeked smiley Peter. Stabs his fork through a piece of chorizo and pops it into his mouth.

“…comments, Tony?” The host prompts him, somewhat nervously.

“Nothing. He’s perfect.”

“I meant…the food. Your comments on the food.”

Peter’s trying to maintain his composure, but it’s obvious he finds the whole situation hilarious.

“Look, I’m not even qualified to judge a cooking competition, but what do you feel about being my personal chef?”

The person behind the camera is yelling “Cut!” and Pepper is in him in a heartbeat, her stiletto heels clacking ominously against the floor.

“Tony-“

“Seriously.” Tony sets the fork down. “You should see my kitchen. It’s state of the art. Pepper.” He turns to his personal assistant. “Tell him how fantastic my kitchen is.”

“Um.” Peter glances uncertainly towards the side where the producers are in the midst of a heated discussion whether that little segment should be left in for airing. “…that’s nice?”

Pepper smiles apologetically at Peter, “I’m sorry. Really.”

“It’s fine. Not everyone can say that they’ve been on Masterchef and got flirted with by the Tony Stark. But seriously, how’s the food? I did spend an hour trying to perfect this.”

“Honestly, kid. I’m gonna maybe need a personal demonstration of how you cooked this dish. You know-“ Tony gestures uselessly with his hands. “-for evaluation purposes.”

“Uh huh. Of course.”

Obviously, it’s a competition and Tony can’t be having favorites, but it’s obvious who he’s rooting for. The episode airs with that little clip of Tony flirting kept in, and the ratings go insane. A couple of episodes later, Peter announces that he’s withdrawing from the competition because of a much better offer and Tony officially interrupts the live episode with a,

“Yes, as my boyfriend.”

#starker #tony stark x peter parker

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holylulusworld · 7 months ago

Text

Election Time (1)

Summary: You thought he was your forever.

Pairing: Senator!Tony Stark x Wife!Reader, Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: heavy angst, language, wish for a child, betrayal, failed marriage, soft Bucky

Square filled for @buckybingo (expired): Square 7: Politics AU

Square filled for: @julybreakbingo (expired): Square 10: Betrayal fic

Election Time masterlist

You force a smile on your face and nod politely. The reporters cannot know you’re about to throw up at the thought of smiling for six more years.

Tony promised his last election campaign would be the last one. He lied, as so often. Over the years, Tony pledged to you so many things.

A quieter life. The end of his political career after six long years of having a public relationship. Children.

Your husband didn’t keep his promises, and you still didn’t get pregnant even after months of trying. The reassurance from your doctor that you’re healthy and fertile did nothing to help you keep your hopes high.

“What’s the secret of your happy marriage?” An ambitious young reporter asks. She was smiling at Tony like a love-sick puppy the whole time, and now she tries to land a punch.

Rumors about your possible infertility and Tony flirting with his election campaign manager Pepper Potts spread by Tony’s concurrent didn’t make your life easier.

“Love and devotion,” Tony answers before you get the chance to respond. “Honesty and support.” He says it without missing a beat. Ever the perfect politician—or liar—depends on if you are a reporter or his wife.

Again, you nod and smile like a perfectly trained dog. Tony grabs your hand, raising your arm with his to strike a winner pose. You wince because he forgot about the injury on your shoulder. The one you got because he wanted to try a new sex position, only to drop you.

A pair of steel-blue eyes watch Tony and you. Your bodyguard squares his jaw, watching your face contort in pain. He pushes off the wall to whisper something in the head of the security's ear.

“Senator, we should head out now,” Steve, the head of security, looks at Tony. “Sir, we are running late.”

“Right,” Tony clears his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he flashes everyone a stunning smile, “thank you for coming. I hope you vote for the right man in four weeks.”

Applause follows. It always does. Tony Stark is the kind of man drawing people in like the flame draws in the moth.

He finally drops his arm, releasing your hand. You struggle to keep a straight face and not wince again. Hiding your pain, you take deep breaths when someone holds out his hand. Bucky, your bodyguard, helps you down the tribune.

Tony is already chatting up Steve to make sure he checks every spot at the orphanage. As if anyone would try to attack your husband while he shakes the hands of some kids.

“Mrs. Senator,” Bucky chuckles when you make a face at his nickname for you. “Do you want to take the same car?”

“Not today. Tony wants to discuss his campaign with Pepper,” you shrug. It’s not unusual for you and Tony to drive in separate cars. “I can use the break, to be honest.”

“You shoulder,” Bucky softly says. He carefully touches your shoulder. “I’ve got something in the trunk to help you with that. It helps me with the scar tissue at my shoulder, too.”

“Always prepared, aren’t you?” you flash Bucky the first genuine smile. “Let’s go, Dozer.”

“That name again,” he laughs as he guides you out of the back of the building. Tony prefers to use the front entrance to bathe in applause and to give autographs. You are, as always, only an accessory to him. He forgot about you the moment he left the town.

Inside the car, you sigh deeply. It’s the first time you can breathe today. You close your eyes and take deep breaths while Bucky rubs pain gel into your skin. He kneads out the knots and kinks in your shoulders and neck.

“Hmm…you’ve got magic hands, Dozer.”

“I only ran through a door once, Y/N,” Bucky chides. “If I remember right, it was because you screamed.”

“It was a huge spider, Bucky,” you giggle when he grunts. “You threatened to shoot it.”

“I did shoot it,” he corrects while gently rubbing your skin. “You applauded and got me ice cream.”

“You saved me that day.” You smile to yourself. “And many more times since then. Not with your gun, but because you’re always there for me.”

“That’s my job.” He says, making it sound so nonchalantly. As if he doesn’t risk his life to protect you every day.

“Hmm,” you nod. “I should call Tony. He wanted to tell me which outfit to wear for the kids.”

Bucky makes a face but doesn’t say a thing. He watches you button up your blouse and presses his lips into a thin line. Bucky would never tell you so, but he despises your husband and the way he treats you.

“Tons, hey,” you huff when Tony mutters into the phone. He wanted you to call him, only to tell you he must talk to Pepper first. “Fine, just call me if you’re done.”

You drop your phone onto the seat and sigh deeply. Bucky grabs the phone to end the call when you hear Pepper’s voice. Tony must’ve forgotten to turn off the loudspeaker.

“So, are you still as happy as you pretend you are?” She asks, making you frown. How dare that woman ask your husband this kind of question? “Tony, look at me.”

“I’m just trying to keep up the façade until past the election. We are over for months, if not a year,” he casually says while your world shatters. Your eyes widen, and you press your hand to your mouth when you choke out a sob.

Bucky wants to end the call, but you shake your head. You opened Pandora’s box, and now you want to hear everything.

“I heard you’re trying for a baby.” She presses on, making you wince when Tony tells her he never planned on having a baby. It would only distract him from his goal to become president one day. “How did you not get her pregnant if you’re trying for a baby?” She huffs.

“I talked her doctor into prescribing her birth control, but to tell her that it’s vitamins,” Tony reveals. All those months you believed it was your fault you could not get pregnant. Now you know why you didn’t get pregnant. Tony manipulated your plans out of selfishness.

Tears roll down your face when Bucky brings you into his arm to let you cry into his chest. You whimper and choke out a sob, hearing Tony talk casually about his betrayal. You know your marriage got rocky lately, but this is no reason to lie to you.

Bucky ends the call. He doesn’t want you to hear more of their conversation.

“Do you want to go home?” He asks lowly. “Y/N? Where do you want to go? I hope you don’t plan on attending that shitshow.”

“I… I don’t know,” you sniffle. “All I know is that I can’t go home. I can never go home again."

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#Election Time (1)#tony stark #bucky barnes #buckybingo #bodyguard bucky barnes #politics au #bodyguard au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you

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arlana-likes-to-write · 1 year ago

Note

Can you do a Natasha x fem Reader based off wildest dreams by Taylor Swift? The idea I had was something like R and Nat having feelings for each other and then end up kissing or something a one of Tony’s (Tony is R’s dad) parties. They end up have a secret relationship because R is scared to come out to the team and especially her dad. But they end getting caught by Thor who accidentally tells Tony and the team at a dinner or something. But there’s a happy ending

Note: I do apologize but I kind of changed the ending on this but I do hope you enjoy it.

Warning: secret relationship, reader is closeted for the beginning, kissing, angst with a happy ending, drinking, self-doubt, miscommunication

Relationships: Natasha x Stark!Reader, Tony x Pepper x Reader (platonic)

If there was one thing about your father, he could throw a party, and most of the time, you had no idea why a party was happening. You knew the team returned from a mission. They saved the day, were the heroes, and now they were drinking and partying. All expect Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow was nursing a Long Island iced tea outside the party. She was wearing a black mesh jumpsuit. The top was sequined with a deep v-neckline and long sleeves. It was a showstopper. Every head seemed to turn towards her but ignored every advantage, man or woman.

You sighed, stood up from your spot at the bar, and pushed your way through the party to the outdoor balcony. You felt her eyes on you as the door closed behind you, and the sounds of the party became muffled. She would come; you just had to wait. So you walked to the patio set in the corner and sat down.

The cool summer air caused goosebumps to form on your skin. You enjoyed the cooler weather, and the sun blasted the city during the day. It recorded high temperatures this year. “You are going to get sick wearing just that,” you knew she was smirking without looking. You were more focused on the city skyline.

“Come keep me warm then,” this time, you looked at the Russian as she walked over to you. She sat down next to you, her thigh barely touching yours, but you felt the warmth she gave off. This was the nature of your relationship with Natasha. Constantly flirting, teasing touches, and longing looks at one another. That was it. It was as if you were both too scared to take that final step. “Are you not enjoying the party?” You turned to face her. Your arm bent on the back of the couch, and you rested your head in your hand. “The talk of the town is that you’re a hero.” You were caught off guard by the bitter laugh that escaped from her, and she sipped on her drink. You frowned.

“I’m not a hero.”

“I think you are,” she said, placing her hand on your thigh. You were wearing a skirt, so you enjoyed the feeling of her hand on your skin.

“You look good,” she said, changing the direction of the conversation. Did you wear this for me?” You rolled your eyes but placed your free hand on top of hers.

“No,” you deadpanned. “I don’t want to inflate your ego, Romanoff.” She smiled and moved closer to you. You thought she was going to kiss you. Instead, she rested her head in space between your neck and shoulder. “Nat,” your voice shook. “What are you doing?” She hummed, and the vibration caused a shiver to travel down your spine.

“I was thinking about kissing you,” she pulled away, and you felt the warmth of her breath on your lips. “What do you say to that, pretty girl?”

“I’d say, what are you waiting for?” Her lips were softer than you expected. Her hand moved to your cheek, keeping you close as the kiss depended on it. She ended it. Her lips were red, and her cheeks were rosy.

“Let’s get out of here,” she whispered. “Drive out of the city, away from the crowds.” You have never moved so fast in your life.

Now, your relationship with the Black Widow has changed. The longing looks were still there, but the flirtatious behavior was replaced with stolen kisses when the team wasn’t looking. Too often, Natasha pushed you up against the tower’s walls and kissed you as her life depended on it, always ending before the team caught you. No one knew, especially your father. For six months, Natasha and you kept your relationship a secret. Even when you knew Natasha wanted to show you off at every party, cuddle with you during moving nights, or claim you as hers. It was you. You weren’t out yet to Tony, and the man was trying to set you up with every eligible bachelor in the city. You were so scared he would be disappointed in you. So you hid, and you pretended it wasn’t kissing you.

You woke up to an empty bed, and the spot Natasha had slept in the previous night was cold. There was the lingering scent of her perfume on her pillow. You had an apartment a little away from the tower. Tony told you often that you could live in the tower, but you liked the sense of privacy. It was also the perfect place to be with Natasha, away from the team. You could be all over her, which you were last night, and a fight broke out.

You were needy and missed your girlfriend, which caused you to be attached to your girlfriend like a koala. She laughed it off at first, poking fun because she was usually the one that constantly wanted to be close to you. You grumbled something about being unable to hug her all day, which was true. You were both so busy the only time you could touch her was at night or early morning before your busy schedule whisked you away from one another. As the night carried on, you noticed a shift in her mood. With Natasha, it was up in the air on how to deal with it. Sometimes, she was honest and told you the truth. Other times, she bottled everything up and shut down.

You decided on the direct approach and asked what was bothering her. She was quiet for a moment and focused on the Bond movie that was playing. It was her night to pick, so you weren’t surprised when you returned from the bathroom to see it queued up on the TV. ‘Are you ashamed to be with me?’ she asked.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the first time she’s asked you this question. As soon the question was asked, you knew the direction was headed. Over the past six months, it was the only thing you fought about. Hurtful words were said on both sides. She was tired of being your secret. Even though you fought about it before this time, it felt final. She was almost fed up waiting for you.

You sat in your bed and stared at the clothes she had left in your room. Most of them were folded neatly in the space you made for her in the dresser or hung up in the closet next to yours. These clothes were from two nights ago when you ripped them off your girlfriend. You slumped back in the bed, pulled Natasha’s pillow over your face, and inhaled your scent. You needed to get out of bed, but the weight of the fight and waking up to Natasha being gone was soul-crushing. Sighing, you force yourself out of bed to take a quick shower.

You were part of the lead team of scientists at Stark Industries. A position you had to work your ass to get the position and prove to everyone you were more than qualified. You heard the whispers and saw the dirty looks, that everyone believed you got the job because Tony Stark is your father.

Braiding your hair, you entered your kitchen and found a note on the counter. You recognized the handwriting of your girlfriend. ‘Your breakfast smoothie is already blended, and I peeled some hard-boiled eggs. Maybe we can do lunch if you aren’t busy. Forever and Always.’

It was a saying the two of you said. Instead of ‘I love you’, it was ‘Forever and Always.’ Natasha found it easier to say that than the L-word. You kissed the note and placed it in your pocket. Still, your heart felt heavy.

There was no time to see Natasha between meetings, running experiments, and writing reports. You were exhausted and missed your girlfriend. It wasn’t until 3:30 when you saw her. She was in the kitchen, cutting her sandwich into triangles. You always found it funny, but she claimed it tasted better. Your eyes locked onto hers pointed to the side hallway and walked over there. With your back against the wall, you waited. You heard her footsteps as she stood in front of you. “Hi,” she smiled.

“Hi,” you responded and kissed her cheek. But you refused to move away, basking in the warmth she always gave off. You put her arms around her neck and hugged her. Her hands found their natural place on your waist. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m so sorry. I’m just so scared.” You felt her nod and gently pulled back so she could face you. Your arms remained tightly around her neck.

“I know,” she said. “I’m sorry, too. Forever and always, I promise.”

“Forever and always,” you whispered against her lips. She kissed you softly. In hindsight, getting lost in how Natasha kissed you was a bad idea. You bite her bottom lip, and the gasp she releases lets you deepen the kiss. Her grip on you tightened, and she pushed you back against the wall. You moaned, and it only seemed to spur her on. Kissing Natasha was everything. Every time she kissed you, it took your breath away. Gently morning kisses or rough, passionate kisses against your kitchen counter. You could spend your entire day in her arms and her lips on yours. “Ah, Lady Stark, oh-” you jumped at the sound of the God of Thunder’s voice. His eyes flickered to you and Natasha, whose arms were still around you. “How long has this been going on?”

“6 months,” Natasha answered. You’ve lost your ability to speak. The god smiled.

“Very well. I will find you later,” he winked at you and returned the way he came. Thor knows you thought. Someone on the team caught you. It was only a matter of time before it got back to Tony or Pepper. The Avengers were superheroes, super soldiers, and trained spies, but they were horrible secret-keepers.

“Sweetheart,” you snapped out of your thoughts by Natasha’s voice. “Are you okay?” You nodded, unsure if you were.

“I have to tell Tony and Pepper before it gets back to them through someone else.”

“Do you want me to?”

“No,” you cut her off before she could finish her question. You desperately wanted her to be there but needed to do it alone. You were the reason your relationship was hidden for so long. “Sorry,” you ran your hands over your braid. “I have to do it alone,” you placed her hand over her heart. The steady beat calmed you down. She put her hand over yours and kissed you softly. The kiss was so gentle it felt like a goodbye. You kept your forehead against hers and closed your eyes. There was so much you wanted to say.

What would your last request be? Would you tell her to remember you? She took you to the beach for a date. You stood in a nice dress and stared at the sunset, red lips and rosy cheeks. ‘Remember me there,’ you thought. ‘Say you’ll see me again even if it’s in your wildest dreams.’

“Forever and always,” you said again.

“Forever and always.”

You promised Natasha that you would find her as soon as you were done talking with Tony. Luckily, you had some paperwork to give him, so the visit had a more tangible reason to see him. You opened the door to his office as a dart was thrown, and it hit the door frame. “Oops, sorry, kid,” you rolled your eyes and pulled the dart out of the wood.

“For you,” you dropped the pile of folders onto his desk. “We just need you to verify our numbers are correct, and then we can move on to the next phase.” He groaned dramatically and flopped down into his chair.

“You know I promoted Pepper to CEO, so I didn’t have to deal with paperwork.” Your mother was a saint. You chuckled and aimed at the dart board. You threw it and hit the bullseye.

“It’s your project,” you said, walking over to the board and pulling out the darts. We don’t want another Ultron,” you saw him roll his eyes.

“You make one robot that goes rampant, and it’s all everyone talks about,” you laughed and threw another round of darts. “Do you need these back now?” He pointed to the files.

“No,” you sat in the chair and crossed your legs. “Can I not spend time with my sperm donor?” You ducked at the stress ball he threw at you. He hated it when you called him that, but you loved getting a rise out of him. “Actually,” you folded your hands. “Can we talk about something?” He sat up in the chair. It was rare for you to see the man so seriously.

“Are you dying? Pregnant? Did you kill someone?”

“No!” You laughed and scratched the back of your head. “I uh shit,” you weren’t sure why you were so nervous. You knew the man was an ally. Stark Industries was at every event during Pride.

“Angel,” he smiled. “You can tell me anything, and I won’t be upset.” Angel was the name he called you since you were a baby. You were born very premature and got sick so easily that the doctors weren’t sure if you were going to make it. But you recovered.

“I’m gay,” you whispered. “I’ve known for a while,” you said before he could say anything. “I’ve been so scared to tell you.” He stared at you, blinking a few times, but remained silent. “Right, sorry for wasting your time. I’ll go.” You stood up quickly, knocking over the chair. You left it on the ground and stumbled out of the office. You needed to get out. You needed to go.

Natasha was getting worried. She thought it was taking a lot longer than she thought it would. She asked the AI where Tony was, and the Black Widow walked into a shit show when she entered his lab. Tony was frantically moving holograms around, but they flashed red, and he would try again. Pepper was no better. Her phone was pushed against her ear, and she was pacing. Back and forth. Back and forth. “Are we being attacked?” She asked, making her presence known. Tony glanced at her before focusing back on whatever he was doing.

“I don’t have time for whatever stupid prank Yelena or Peter pulled. Whatever they broke, just order another one,” he began to work again. I have to find her.” He said it mostly to himself. It was a mumbled and throwaway comment, but Natasha heard it. ‘I need to find her,’ Tony said. Natasha grabbed Tony by the shoulder without thinking and threw him into the chair. She steadied him so he wouldn’t fall over.

“What did you say to her?” She asked, crossed her arms, and took a small step back.

“How do you-” he squinted his eyes at her. “Look, I didn’t say anything to her.” He threw his hands to the side. It clicked in Natasha’s head. She knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes. You took his silence as rejection. “Now move so I can find our daughter.” But Natasha stayed.

“Where have you looked?”

“FRIDAY can’t find her,” Pepper ended her call and walked over. “I’ve called some of her favorite sports, but no one has seen her.”

“She’s either turned off her phone or blocked me from finding her.” Natasha always believed you were more intelligent than him, but she knew where you would run off.

“I know where she would go,” Natasha turned on her heels to leave.

“Wait,” Tony called out. His frantic voice caused the Black Widow to stop. “Why do you know so much about her?” Right. If you took off, you wouldn’t have told him. Slowly, Natasha faced him.

“I’ve been dating her for six months,” she said. “So I will find her and make sure she’s safe.”

You knew your time was up when you heard the quiet chime of the front door. You waited until strong arms circled your waist and pulled you flush to her chest. “Found you, my love,” you smiled and chuckled. Of course, she would be the one to find you. She was the only one who knew about this place. “Tell me about this painting.”

You told her a story that captured the emotion of the painting in front of you. You stood in a small art gallery way past closing hours, but the owner gave you the key. You were an investor here, meeting the owner in Central Park while they were painting. The art gallery was small, and it showcased local and small artists. It was peaceful, and the place gave your mind a break. You kept the gallery a secret, protecting your space from the crazy personalities of the Avengers.

“Is he mad?” You finally asked. Natasha shook her head and kissed your shoulder.

“No, he’s worried he couldn’t find you,” she chuckled softly. “I may have told him we are dating.”

“Oh,” you whispered. You felt oddly okay with him knowing, even if he wasn’t going to accept you as you were. “Where is he?”

“Well, I told him to stay at the tower,” Natasha sighed. “But he’s stubborn, and I caught him and Pepper following me.” You laughed, not surprised that Tony Stark couldn’t follow a car without getting caught. You spun around to face your girlfriend, arms around her neck and hugged her tight.

“Forever and always,” you whispered.

“I love you too.” The three-word statement shocked you and made your stomach flip. Your heart filled with butterflies. You were happy and terrified but mostly happy.

You were startled when you walked out of the gallery, and your dad bulldozed into you. His arms wrapped around you tightly. “I love you,” he said. “I love you and support you even if you have questionable taste in women.” You let out a watery laugh and wiped away your tears.

“Thanks, Stark,” Natasha rolled her eyes with a small smile on her face.

“I will support you. I will always want you to be happy,” Tony continued.

“We love you no matter who you love,” Pepper said, getting out of the car and joining you. “No matter what.” You collapsed into your parents’ arms and cried against them. A weight was lifted off your chest, and you felt free.

The next Stark Party, you were sitting on the couch. This time, Natasha’s arm wrapped tightly around your waist and your hand on her thigh. It seemed second nature that the two of you were attached at the hip. No one batted an eye. When looking back at it, you seemed a little silly. But now you were free to live your life to the fullest.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x stark!reader #tony stark x pepper potts #black widow x reader #black widow x you #black widow fanfiction #inspired by music

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popcorn-plots · 11 months ago

Text

midnight snack

Stephen sipped at his cocktail, watching the scene before him. It wasn’t much, just a few people crowded in the top deck, swaying to the last song of the night. The inky black water was silent a few stories beneath them, cold wind rustling Stephen’s hair. There were one or two other people at the cafeteria with him, one obviously tipsy and the other nearly asleep on their feet. Sometimes, Stephen liked to speculate on their stories – who they were, what got them to this point. Right now, he was too tired.

It was either listening to the too-loud music with a martini in hand, sitting alone in the cold night air, or going back to his room where nightmares lurked at every corner. Despite the exhaustion, Stephen preferred the martini.

The music stopped and the DJ shouted something unintelligible over the speakers. The tired man near him wobbled down the stairs, drunk girl in tow. Someone cursed. Stephen finished his drink and set it down.

He thought about ordering another one, but the cafeteria was bound to be closing soon – it was 2 AM – and he didn’t feel like getting drunk. Drunk meant the nightmares couldn’t wake him up. He felt a little bad for leaving Christine alone in the room, but she had always been a deep sleeper.

There were footsteps on the stairs and a voice. “Hey, Stranger”

Stephen looked up. Tony Stark was standing above him. “Stark.”

“What are you doing up?” Stark asked.

“What are you doing up?” Stephen responded. Stark laughed and Stephen couldn’t help but grin. He had hated the man for most of his career, and for the first few days of the cruise, but he couldn’t help but admit that there had been some sort of chemistry between them (after his initial disbelief that Tony Stark, of all people, was on his cruise ship). Christine and Pepper hit it off immediately and after a few drinks and meals together, Tony and Stephen had settled on light banter instead of huge arguments. For their Scary Female Friends, they decided.

“Nightmares.” Stark finally admitted. “Mind if I sit?”

“No, not at all. Sit away.” Stark chuckled and sat down. There was a long silence that wasn’t exactly uncomfortable. “Nightmares for me, too. Even in paradise, they still haunt me.” For a moment, Stephen wished he had another martini. In a moment of inspiration, he asked Stark if he wanted one.

“No thanks. Three years sober tomorrow.” Stark explained. Stephen hummed.

Another silence fell between them and Stephen looked down at his hands. He shivered slightly, the chill having finally penetrated his nightshirt. Stark sighed. “I… there’s a lot of evidence that prove that sleeping with someone–”

“If you’re asking if you can fuck me, Stark, the answer is yes. You’re handsome, and while part of me still hates you, another part of me enjoys your company and… I’m intrigued.”

Stark laughed and held up a finger. “Firstly, call me Tony.”

“Then call me Stephen.”

“Secondly, I’d have to buy you dinner before. Sex is a third-date kind of thing. I’m a gentleman, not a monster.” Stephen raised an eyebrow, fighting to keep the blush away from his face at the fact that Star– Tony didn’t exactly deny his sex accusation.

“Thirdly, I was saying that studies have shown that sleep quality improves when you literally sleep with a partner. I was going to say that while we haven’t been friends for that long, we've established that we both have nightmares and maybe we could give that a shot and see what happens.”

Stephen took a second to think. “Then you'd better ask me out first, douchebag.”

Tony laughed. It was louder this time, more free and a lot more contagious. Stephen began to chuckle as well, until they were both nearly howling with laughter. Tony had to wipe tears from his eyes before he could respond.

“Fine." Tony slid onto one knee in front of Stephen's chair, cupping his hands in the air as if he was proposing. “Stephen Strange, will you go out with me and find some weird cruise ship sandwiches so I can literally take you to bed?”

Stephen pretending to fan his face, grinning. “I would be honored.”

Tony grinned, stood up, and held out his arm to help Stephen up. Arm in arm, they made their way to the food bar.

The next morning, Stephen woke up secured in Tony’s arms, never wanting to leave. He hadn’t had a single nightmare, and he started the day refreshed and relaxed for the first time since high school. Tony admitted that he felt the same way and they found breakfast together -- without their Scary Female Friends this time.

Then they got lunch, then dinner, and exchanged numbers. Stephen finally got the fucking he had talked about a week later and thoroughly enjoyed it.

Ten years later, Tony proposed on that same cruise ship, at 2 AM, and with a cucumber sandwich (he proposed again in Italy, on the Rialto Bridge, with an actual ring). Stephen never slept alone again.

Ao3

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hurtspideyparker · 3 months ago

Text

Avengers' Galentine's Day 💕

"You may be wondering why I've convened you here today."

Natasha looks around the table at the men, hands clasped and back straight. Bruce, Peter, Sam, and Bucky sit around her.

Peter perks up. "I'm just happy to be here, thank you for inviting me Ms. Romanoff!"

"You can call me Natasha. And don't make me regret it," she says pointedly.

Peter nods furiously, leaning in intently as she speaks again.

"Valentine's Day is tomorrow, and to my knowledge all of you are single. And my knowledge is always correct. So, I propose a Galentine's Day."

The men all share awkward looks.

"We're all...dudes."

"Yes, thank you Sam. I wasn't aware." She says sharply before continuing.

"Listen, contrary to popular belief around here, I am a woman. I want to do woman things. But Wanda has a boyfriend, Pepper is working, and Maria is out of the country. So, I'm left with you doofuses."

"Hold on, hold on," Sam puts a hand up, "why wouldn't we think you were a woman? I mean we treat you like a friend and not a sex object. That's not treating you like a man."

Natasha holds up a hand and starts counting on her fingers.

"You two were making fart noises and giggling during breakfast with me sitting right there, and only stopped when Pepper walked in for a bagel," she looks between Sam and Peter.

"You offered me your 3-in-1 when I forgot my toiletries bag on mission," she nods to Bruce.

"And you—" she raises her eyebrows at Bucky, "handed me a cup when I said I needed to pee during that road trip out West."

The men all turn to Bucky.

"Jus' instinct. My bad." he hunches under their scrutiny.

"What kinda road trips you going on man," Sam asks.

"Clearly not the same ones as you."

"CleArLy—"

"Anyways!" Natasha interrupts, "You owe me. And if you say no you're probably sexist. Who's in?"

Peter's hand shoots up enthusiastically, and the others reluctantly follow.

"Great! We need someone on decorations, someone to plan an activity, someone on dinner, I'll prepare the snacks, and then someone on drinks. Alcoholic and non. And yes this all has to be Valentine's theme. So...who knows a good balloon place?"

Sam gets dinner, Bucky drinks, Bruce on the activity, and Peter decorations.

"You're all capable people so do not call me every second asking stupid questions. Figure it out, it better be amazing. Steve and Tony are leaving at 6pm for their date and won't be back till late, so we have the place to ourselves. The dress code is red white and pink, be there or be square."

With that Natasha is up and breezing down the hall.

"Why do I feel guilty and manipulated at the same time. What just happened." Bruce contemplates.

"Spies man," Sam shakes his head.

Peter rolls his eyes, "you guys are so lame. Do you know what this means? Chocolate covered strawberries. Heart shaped balloons. Fun games. Frosting—I basically lived off of Red 40 when I was 13. And I like hanging out with you all, what's the difference now that it's Valentine's?"

"The difference is I have to party plan, and I can't go to the bar and flirt with lonely singles." Sam complains.

Peter shrugs and gets up from the table. "That's weird, and you're no fun. Later losers!"

Bucky crosses his arms and sinks into the chair. "Why is it Ms. Romanoff and Mr. Stark, but we're losers?"

"Probably because you two are morons and he beat your asses before his balls dropped." Bruce says nonchalantly, picking up his tablet and pulling out his reading glasses.

˖°. ⋆ ♡ ˖°. ⋆

Peter gets to work first, calling May because he has zero experience decorating anything, let alone a holiday themed girls' (?) night.

"Dollar store helium balloons. Honestly, dollar store for most of it; look in the Valentine's section. Also maybe ribbon, place settings, and of course flowers. And don't you dare leave the flowers in the plastic Peter Benjamin Parker—"

Peter finds most of what he needs at the dollar store, and then finds a red and white checkered tablecloth at the thrift store.

The day of he sets the table with heart doilies, pink dishware that Pepper found for him, and some random candles. The odd assortment makes it look rustic, and not like he stole them from people's rooms in the tower. (Wanda had a candle that smells like lavender! Score!)

He sets the balloons loose onto the ceiling and shrugs a good enough when they seem evenly spaced. He uses Mr. Stark's credit card to buy the flowers, because holy bejesus, 60 dollars for plants that aren't even going to make it to next month?! He fixes them up nice, an assortment in varying shades of pink with small white flowers in-between, and puts them in a vase he found when dumpster diving. He hangs streamers and heart garlands on the walls, and uses some Valentine's confetti to just... throw around. It looks like the dragon of capitalism threw up on all the flat surfaces, and Peter dusts his hands off with a job well done.

˖°. ⋆ ♡ ˖°. ⋆

Sam knows how to be romantic. He does not, however, know how to be "cutesy".

All his normal romantic dinner ideas go flying out the window—he is not ordering steak and salmon for a bunch of dudes and a minor, thank you very much.

The only thing he could find that would fit the theme without being romantic was heart-shaped pizzas. It sounds like the perfect party food and just might avoid disappointing a woman who carries a dozen weapons on her at all time (half of which are just the ways she can use her body with lethal force).

He calls five pizza shops trying to place a catering order for the 14th, receives a cacophony of "fuck you"s, "do you know what day that is? Do you know what day today is?", and some immediate hang ups before deciding that homemade pizzas are way more fun and creative anyways, and does a quick grocery shop.

˖°. ⋆ ♡ ˖°. ⋆

Bruce looks through blogs with pictures of millennial blonde women telling him about "great ideas for girls' night!" and finds his task far more difficult than anticipated.

Friendship bracelets? Clashing aesthetics aside, they'd probably rain down in a mess of beads mid-fight. He does not want to Home Alone his friends (don't even get him started on Hulking out).

Decorate your own hair accessories? He's not sure how the physics of trying to clip a hair bow onto Sam's head would work. Bucky and Natasha might appreciate a good claw clip though.

What he does land on is making clay fridge magnets. They have... a fridge. How hard can painting be?

He also pulls out Uno and Avengers Edition Guess Who—they get sent a lot of promotional items. Collectively their favourite was the Ben & Jerry's Super ice cream line, they bought a whole other freezer for it.

˖°. ⋆ ♡ ˖°. ⋆

Bucky buys 3 bottles of rosé, 2 tequila, 1 vodka, red jello packets, pink lemonade, edible glitter, and strawberry milk.

˖°. ⋆ ♡ ˖°. ⋆

Natasha placed an order for a beautiful array of cupcakes, chocolate covered strawberries, and a charcuterie board back in December.

She only waited so long to invite her guests because she wasn't sure how they'd react to her wanting a nice girly party. Her options were already slim to begin with, and it felt weird inviting a bunch of dudes to something she's been planning for months with the ridiculous expectation she'd magically have more women in her life.

Either way, she's determined to have a great night. These are some of her closest friends, why would it matter if they're men?

˖°. ⋆ ♡ ˖°. ⋆

"Maybe I should have been clearer about the dress code."

Natasha is wearing a beautiful red dress; mid-length, thin straps, and a plunging neckline. It fits her curves beautifully, emphasizing her hips in a silky fabric.

The men took the dress code in a...different direction.

Bruce is wearing jeans and a maroon cardigan.

Sam has a white button-up and a red tie, cuffs rolled up to the elbow, and nice black slacks.

Peter is wearing pink hello kitty pajama pants and a white t-shirt with an anatomical heart diagram.

Bucky is adorned in his usual black cargo pants and a baby pink hoodie.

The men all assess each other's outfits, eyes reflecting uncertainty. Sam in particular seems at odds with Bucky's pastel fashion choice.

"Where'd you get that sweater? I thought your favourite colour was "dark" and your closet consistent exclusively of black, noir, midnight, and charcoal."

Bucky seems content despite the fashion being out of his comfort zone. The soft warm colouring makes him seem sweet and approachable despite his perpetual glower.

"I don't know, it just turned like this one day. It used to be white."

Sam narrows his eyes, "I think you messed up your laundry dude."

"I thought this was just something that happened with your fancy machines. I like dark colours, so. I wouldn't know if this was normal."

"Did you wash it with something red? Used hot water?"

"I don't own any red."

Sam exchanges skeptical looks with the other confused Avengers, except Peter, who's completely turned away from them all and observing the wall.

"Peter." Natasha asks.

"Mhm?" he says, back still turned.

"You wouldn't happen to know something about this would you?"

Peter rocks back and forth on his feet, arms swinging like he hadn't a care in the world.

"Not a clue Ms. Ro—Natasha. I haven't the faintest idea."

"The kid did something to your laundry."

"Hey!" Peter spins around. "That is a wild accusation."

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn't do it."

Peter matches her unwavering stare, "I! ...Maybe put some of Spider-Man's things in the machine. It was already going and it was just socks—why would I start a new load for socks!"

"When the load that's already going is whites. Honestly, as a society shouldn't we have moved past separating colours? Cold water people, cold water." Bruce trails off.

Sam claps him on the shoulder with a "preach it brother!" while pumping his other fist in the air.

Natasha slices her hands through the air in an 'enough' motion.

"It's fine, it's fine. We're here, we're dressed, Peter managed to do a nice job decorating," Peter grins and shoots her two thumbs up, "so let's get the party started."

Natasha turns on some music while Sam grabs everything out of the fridge.

"We're gonna make heart pizzas! Thought I'd add a little fun and personality to the whole dinner affair."

Natasha looks him up and down.

"All of the pizza places told you to fuck off didn't they?"

"Loudly and immediately."

Her lips quirk subtly and then she helps him set the table up and pass out dough. Sam sighs in relief at the micro expression of joy.

The table is full of chatter and warmth, toppings being passes around. Peter sings along to Blank Space by Taylor Swift with an alarming passion, and Sam absolutely kills everyone with his rendition of Single Ladies by Beyoncé, even getting a chuckle from Bucky. There is a short stint between Natasha and Bruce in which she sees how many green peppers she can place on his pizza without him noticing after he said he didn't like the fruit.

"But you like red?"

"Red has flavour, green things all taste like water or small talk."

The answer was 6 before he noticed.

They take turns playing Avengers Guess Who while they wait for all of their food to cook. Peter and Sam are against each other as Natasha eats her fresh pizza.

"Is your character a man?"

Sam's eyebrows furrow. They just started the game, and already he's stumped.

"I don't know dude, I don't even know if he's got any junk in his trunk."

"Oh, so Vision?"

"Dammit!"

Bucky and Natasha go next.

"Would your character wear his own branded underwear?"

"Yes." Natasha replies immediately. "Would your character be picked for a stealth mission?"

"Nope," Bucky answers as he finishes flipping down his characters. He only has 3 left.

"Has your character had a press scandal in the last 6 months?"

Natasha thinks for a moment, "yes. Is your character Bruce?"

Bucky groans and slams down the last character he had up.

"Yeah. And yours was Tony."

"Indeed it was. Should have guessed when you had 3, better to gamble than play it safe." Bucky rolls his eyes but nods in agreement.

Bucky gets all of his drinks out while they eat, pouring lemonade and tequila haphazardly into their cups, stirring in glitter with an unenthusiastic flare.

"Voila."

Peter looks on.

"What about me?"

Bucky reaches back into the fridge and pulls out a litre of pink strawberry milk.

"Ta-da."

Peter looks at it with befuddlement.

"What, you want the glitter too?"

"Not a fan of micro plastics, thanks."

Bucky shrugs and pushes the jug of milk towards him.

˖°. ⋆ ♡ ˖°. ⋆

"Fridge magnets!"

They all stare at Bruce.

"Magnets! For our fridge!"

"And this made you think of us?" Sam asks.

Bruce throws his hands up. "I don't know man! Would you have preferred wine glass painting?"

Sam holds his palms towards Bruce in a soothing manner. "Struck a nerve there..." he whispers to Bucky.

Despite their apprehension they fall into a nice rhythm of sipping and shaping. The clay starts coming together under their palms; Bruce a pair of glasses, Peter an Iron Man mask, Natasha a pair of ballet slippers, Sam a set of sprawling wings and Bucky a kitten.

"You a cat guy?" Sam asks him.

"Is there something wrong with that?"

Sam's eyes flit between the small cat ears being shaped by gruff hands and the shadowed face of the taciturn super soldier.

"Naw, just didn't peg you as a cat guy. Or an animal guy. Or a loving guy."

Bucky stares at him for a moment before stretching a fist out and smashing Sam's wings-in-progress.

"Hey! Foul, foul! Natasha are you going to just let this happen?"

"It's Bruce's activity."

"Hulk smash."

˖°. ⋆ ♡ ˖°. ⋆

As the night progresses the adults become more and more tipsy, grazing the charcuterie board and sweets on the table.

"AH oh GOD what did you make these with, battery acid?!"

Everyone turns to Peter who's standing in the refrigerator door, holding a cup of half eaten red Jello.

"Oh, I forgot about those. They're Jello shots."

Peter balks at Bucky, "as in alcohol?!"

He rushes to the sink and tilts his head sideways under the faucet, water blasting onto his tongue.

"Well, that's dramatic."

"That is the most disgusting thing I've ever tasted. Why on Earth would you ruin perfectly good Jello like that?"

Bucky grabs the tray of Jello shots from the opened fridge, placing them on the table and handing them out to the adults.

"Cheers," they tap the plastic cups before shooting the gelatin down their throats to the sound of Peter spluttering in the sink. Bucky and Natasha's go down smoothly, Sam chokes a bit at the awkward chunk of food heating his throat, and Bruce spends 30 seconds trying to scoop the Jello out of the cup with an uncomfortable combination of finger and tongue action.

"How do you even know about Jello shots, you're like...old." Peter remarks once he's taken a few gulps of pink lemonade to wash down the aftertaste.

"How do you know about Jello shots, you're like...uncool." Bucky retorts. Natasha snorts and Sam bursts out laughing. Even Bruce chuckles.

"Dr. Banner," Peter whines at him.

"Sorry kid, but he's got a point. What kind of kid spits out a Jello shot. It's free, sugary, no-repercussions alcohol."

Peter just sits down with a pout and continues to sip on his lemonade.

˖°. ⋆ ♡ ˖°. ⋆

The night gets later, the adults more inebriated as they finish painting their magnets.

Sam has eaten all the salami off the board and Peter has taken to throwing the disproportionate amount of cheese leftover at people. Bucky is on his third cupcake, and Natasha keeps giggling into her cup of tequila.

"What if he was blue—" Sam starts cracking himself up, hovering a paintbrush near Peter's Iron Man face.

"I don't understand what's so funny about that. Stop, Sam stop!"

As the boys fight over the paint, Natasha and Bruce go with a quick all-over glaze of colour and then add the sealant and magnet before the others even make it to a second shade. Bucky paints his cat with an air of intense concentration, one even Sam doesn't want to go near.

Their finished magnets get placed onto fridge.

˖°. ⋆ ♡ ˖°. ⋆

The whole group seem to be moving around and restless, chaotic and boisterous. Sam complains loudly about the romcom they put on in the background, Peter, Bruce, and Bucky play a rapid round of Uno, and Natasha keeps popping in and out of rooms with a different cookie and drink in her hand each time.

Bruce starts to get weepy when he pronounces uno, mumbling something about being "uno" forever through a drunken tongue and snot as Peter rubs his back.

The next time they turn around Natasha and Bucky are on the other couch making out.

"Gross! No! No romance on Galentine's Day!" Peter shouts, throwing pillows and pink m&ms at them until they pull away. Peter couldn't see much other than the back of Bucky's head, but he shivers in disgust at the sight of reddened lips.

He starts counting down the time on the clock until Tony and Steve are said to come home. While the snacks, games, and company have been fantastic, the adults are becoming far too...exuberant for his taste.

Bruce is a weepy drunk, Sam simply annoying, Natasha is sneaky and suspiciously absent for odd lengths of time, and Bucky...

"Hey! What did I say!" Peter dumps his glass of water onto the brunet, watching him jerk his lips off of Sam's in dissatisfaction.

"I swear I'll get a spray bottle. Bad Bucky." he says before continuing to the bathroom.

He finds the door open and Natasha standing at the mirror, curling her hair.

"Why?"

Natasha just shrugs.

˖°. ⋆ ♡ ˖°. ⋆

The elevator finally dings a quarter to midnight.

"Oh thank goodness."

Steve and Tony exit with linked arms, broad smiles and sides pressed together in a matching gate.

Peter rushes up to them, backpack in hand as he starts shedding his t-shirt and socks.

"Woah there cowboy, I did not sign up for that kind of rodeo" Tony alarms.

Peter just pulls out his spider suit and starts slipping it on over his state of undress.

"Tell Natasha I had a great time, but I'm expeditiously out of here. Bruce is still hung up on his ex, Natasha feels distanced from her femininity and is trying to regain her girlhood, Bucky's a slut, and Sam is so totally tapping that tonight. I'd like to be far, far away when that happens."

Peter pulls on the final piece of the suit, masking up and sending enthusiastic waves to the couple.

"Hope your date was nice! This is not my problem anymore."

And then he scampers to the balcony and swings off into the night.

The couple share wide eyes, listening to the odd sound of their friends and the booming TV playing a romantic 90s soundtrack.

Is someone crying?

Steve turns away from Tony and steps towards the living area, but Tony doesn't loosen his hold on the other's arm, making his steps stutter to a stop immediately.

"Shouldn't we go check on them? Sounds like the party was too much of a hit."

Steve looks over at the empty bottles of wine and tequila tipped on the kitchen counter. There's food, half fallen streamers, and Uno cards everywhere.

"Right now? That is not our problem."

"But—"

Tony slinks forward, pressing their chests together and wrapping his arms around the Captain's neck, wide-eyed browns meeting baby blues.

"It's still Valentine's, and I have a far more pressing problem for you."

Steve stares mesmerized under Tony's touch, the man sly and hot against his front. They're close, close enough to feel...

"Oh! That's—"

"Mhm."

"Okay. Yeah, they'll be fine till morning."

Tony smirks and Steve matches his smile, moving his hands to his lover's waist before walking him backwards.

Tony allows himself to be guided to their bedroom without breaking eye contact, blocking all thoughts of the other Avengers with a slam of the door and giggling open mouthed kisses.

#domestic avengers #marvel #mcu #avengers #peter parker #natasha romanoff #bucky barnes #sam wilson #bruce banner #stony #sambucky #winterwidow #marvel mcu #steve rogers #tony stark #happy valentine's day #don't talk to me about this being late i was so upset i ran out of time 😭. 14 is such a pretty number 😞#valentine's day

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amethystarachnid · 1 month ago

Note

Hi I hope you're still accepting requests. I have a request for a Tony Stark x Fem reader - FORCED WEDDING. Their parents force them to get married for business stuff. Tony doesn't like Y/N at all but being a people pleaser, Y/N agrees to get married. Y/N is really nice to him and slowly starts catching feelings for him here and there (or maybe put a little flashback where Y/N liked him since the beginning or something like that) Being the reckless playboy that he is, he doesn't care about Y/N at all and and is very cold to her. (Some angst maybe) After a series of bad experiences like Tony not valuing Y/N or flirting with other women in front of her (or more), Y/N slowly loses hope and gets heart broken (but their parents don't care). Y/N decides to leave him for good and starts acting distant and cold. Y/N gets ready to leave and lead her own life but something really remarkable happens (you can make it whatever you want) and then Tony actually starts falling for Y/N. He regrets his behavior and tries to win Y/N back by doing his best. Obviously Y/N agrees after a lot of tries and they live happily ever after. (I hope it's not a boring storyline for you to write🫠)

You're a very good writer. So you know better. Make whatever changes necessary and add whatever you want but DO NOT INCLUDE PEPPER POTTS.😂 You can write it whenever you want. No rush at all. I just want you to bring this story to life. Thanks!💛

FORCED MARRIAGE

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

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

ᯓ★ Genre: angst, romance, little fluff

ᯓ★ Word count: 9k

ᯓ★ Summary:what the asks said lol

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing I think, just a little spicy scene at the end

ᯓ★ Man, I seriously need to get better at giving titles to my stories...

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

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 weight of the diamond on your finger feels heavier than it should. You stare at it, twisting it slightly, watching how the light catches on the sharp edges. It doesn’t feel real, even though the band digs into your skin like a cruel reminder. You’ve dreamed of wearing Tony Stark’s ring before—many times, in fact—but never like this. Never with him sitting on the opposite end of the limousine, arms crossed, eyes focused on the flashing city outside rather than on his new wife.

You don’t expect him to look at you. He hasn’t since the ceremony. Not even when you said, “I do.”

The vows had been meaningless. Promises recited with the enthusiasm of a death sentence. His lips barely moved around the words. His eyes were flat, empty. You knew, standing at the altar in a pristine white dress, that this was just another transaction to him. Just another Stark Industries deal.

You try to ignore the sharp sting in your chest as you sneak a glance at him. He’s still dressed in his tux, but he’s already undone his bowtie, the top buttons of his shirt loosened. His posture is relaxed in the way that tells you he’d rather be anywhere but here. The silence stretches between you, suffocating.

“Are we going straight to the penthouse?” you ask softly, voice barely audible over the hum of the car. You’re not sure why you ask—he doesn’t care where you go.

Tony finally shifts, looking at you with disinterest. “Where else would we go?”

You swallow. He’s right. The honeymoon suite is waiting, though there will be no honeymoon. No whispered affections, no tender moments. Just the formality of sharing space with a man who resents you.

“I just—never mind,” you murmur, pressing your hands together.

A bitter smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “Go ahead. Say what’s on your mind. This is a marriage, isn’t it? We should be able to talk.”

You hesitate. What’s the point? You know how he feels. He made it painfully clear the moment your parents arranged this.

“I was just trying to make conversation,” you admit.

Tony laughs, but there’s no warmth in it. “You don’t have to do that. We’re not friends.”

The words slice through you, but you force yourself to nod. “Right. Of course.”

The car slows, pulling up to the towering glass building that is now your home. Your stomach twists as the driver opens the door for you. Tony steps out first without offering a hand. You don’t expect him to. You step out carefully, clutching the fabric of your dress, and follow him into the lobby.

People stare. They recognize him. The famous Tony Stark. Billionaire, genius, playboy. Notorious for avoiding commitment. And yet, here he is, walking beside his new bride with all the enthusiasm of a man heading to his execution.

You step into the private elevator, the doors sliding shut behind you. The ride is silent. You steal another glance at him. His jaw is tight, his hands shoved into his pockets. He doesn’t look at you.

Finally, you reach the penthouse. The doors open with a soft chime, revealing the luxurious suite. It’s beautiful. Elegant. Expensive. But it feels cold.

Tony walks in first, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto the nearest chair. He runs a hand through his hair, sighing like this is all a massive inconvenience. “You take the bedroom,” he says flatly. “I’ll sleep in the guest room.”

You blink. “But—”

He turns to look at you, his expression unreadable. “What? Did you actually think we’d be sharing a bed?”

“No,” you say quickly, even though the thought had crossed your mind. Not because you expected him to want you—but because you had hoped, foolishly, that maybe things wouldn’t be so bad.

Tony watches you for a moment, then shakes his head. “I don’t know why you agreed to this.”

You smile, but it’s forced. “Because it’s what our families wanted.”

“That’s bullshit.” His voice is sharp now, eyes narrowing. “You could’ve said no.”

And yet, he didn’t. He could’ve fought harder. He could’ve refused. But he didn’t. He let it happen, just like you did.

You look down at your hands. “I’m a people pleaser,” you say quietly. “It’s what I do.”

Tony scoffs, turning away. “That’s pathetic.”

The words sting, but you don’t react. You can’t. If you let yourself feel everything at once, you might break.

He walks toward the bar, pouring himself a drink. He doesn’t offer you one. You’re not surprised. You watch as he downs the whiskey in one go, then pours himself another.

“You don’t have to be so cruel,” you say softly.

Tony freezes. His grip tightens around the glass, and for a second, you think he might actually apologize. But then he laughs—low and humorless.

“Cruel?” He turns to face you, leaning against the counter. “I married you, didn’t I? That’s enough.”

You clench your hands into fists. “Is it?”

His eyes darken. “Don’t start acting like this is something it’s not. You knew what you were getting into.”

“I know,” you whisper. “But it doesn’t mean it has to be this miserable.”

Tony doesn’t answer. He just downs another drink before disappearing into the guest room, slamming the door behind him.

You’re alone. On your wedding night.

You close your eyes, exhaling shakily. You should’ve known. You did know. And yet, your heart still aches.

Because despite everything—despite his indifference, his resentment—you love him. You always have.

And now, you’re trapped in a marriage with a man who will never love you back.

---

The morning light filters through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, but it does little to warm the hollow feeling in your chest. You barely slept. Every time you closed your eyes, you were met with the image of Tony walking away from you, his words from last night echoing in your head.

"I don’t know why you agreed to this."

You don’t know why you thought today would be different.

When you step out of the bedroom, the penthouse is silent. For a second, you wonder if he even stayed the night. Maybe he went out. Maybe he found another way to escape this situation.

You wrap your arms around yourself as you head toward the kitchen. You move on autopilot, pulling out ingredients to make breakfast. Not because you expect Tony to appreciate it, but because it’s something to do. Something to ground you in this strange, unfamiliar reality.

The smell of fresh coffee fills the space, and you set two mugs on the counter—one for you, one for him, even though you know there’s a good chance he won’t take it. You try not to care.

The sound of footsteps makes you turn.

Tony walks in, looking as disheveled as ever, his hair messy, his shirt from last night still on, though wrinkled now. He doesn’t acknowledge you as he heads straight for the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water.

“Good morning,” you say cautiously.

He doesn’t look at you. “Sure.”

You wait, hoping he’ll say more. Maybe something about the night before. Maybe something—anything—to ease the tension between you. But he just leans against the counter, unscrewing the cap of the bottle.

“I made breakfast,” you offer, motioning toward the plates on the counter. Scrambled eggs, toast, and some fruit. It’s simple, but it’s something.

Tony glances at it, then back at you. “I don’t eat breakfast.”

It’s a lie. You know it is. You’ve seen enough interviews, enough photos, enough snippets of his life to know that he does. But you don’t call him out on it.

“Right,” you murmur. “Well… it’s there if you change your mind.”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he takes a sip of water and walks toward the living room, already pulling out his phone, his attention elsewhere.

You watch him go, the lump in your throat growing heavier.

This is what your life is now.

You knew Tony wouldn’t love you. You knew he wouldn’t want this. But some naive, hopeless part of you thought maybe—just maybe—you could at least have something. A civil relationship. A fragile sort of companionship. But he won’t even give you that.

You sink into the chair, staring at your untouched breakfast, your appetite gone.

The rest of the day is just as cold.

Tony barely speaks to you. When he does, it’s short, dismissive. He spends most of the day locked in his office, working on something for Stark Industries. You stay out of his way, not wanting to push him, not wanting to make this harder than it already is.

You try to make the penthouse feel more like home, but it’s impossible when the man you’re supposed to share it with treats you like a stranger.

By the time evening rolls around, you’re exhausted—not from doing anything physically demanding, but from the emotional weight of it all. You sit on the couch, flipping through TV channels, but nothing holds your attention.

Tony finally emerges from his office, looking irritated as he checks his watch.

“I’m going out,” he announces.

You blink, turning to him. “Oh.”

You hesitate, debating whether or not to ask, Where? But you already know the answer.

He’s going to drink. He’s going to distract himself from this reality. Maybe he’s going to find someone else—someone who isn’t his wife.

Your stomach twists. “When will you be back?”

Tony sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Don’t wait up.”

The door closes behind him.

And you are alone again.

—

Days turn into weeks, and nothing changes.

You try. You really do.

You greet him in the mornings. You make coffee. You attempt conversations over dinner—when he’s actually around for it. But every effort is met with indifference.

Tony treats you like you don’t exist. Like you’re just a piece of furniture in the penthouse. Like you’re nothing more than an obligation he was forced into.

He comes home late, smelling like alcohol and perfume. You don’t ask where he’s been. You don’t ask if he’s been with someone. You don’t want to hear the answer.

The worst part is, he doesn’t even try to hide it.

One night, he stumbles into the penthouse at nearly three in the morning. You’re still awake, curled up on the couch, waiting—though you don’t know why. Maybe because some part of you still clings to the idea that this marriage isn’t completely broken.

Tony barely acknowledges you as he kicks off his shoes, running a hand through his messy hair. His tie is gone, the top buttons of his shirt undone.

“Did you have a good night?” you ask softly, the words tasting like poison on your tongue.

Tony scoffs, grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the bar. “It was fine.”

You watch as he pours himself a drink, his movements slow and careless. Your hands tighten into fists.

“How long are you going to do this?” you whisper.

He pauses, looking at you for the first time in what feels like forever. “Do what?”

“Pretend I don’t exist.”

Tony lets out a dry laugh. “I’m not pretending.”

The words hit you harder than you expect.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Tony—”

He raises a hand, cutting you off. “Look, I don’t know what you want from me, okay? I didn’t ask for this. You didn’t ask for this. We’re stuck. That’s it.”

You stare at him, your heart aching. “I just want—”

“What? A real marriage?” He scoffs. “That’s not going to happen.”

Your breath catches.

Tony shakes his head, downing the rest of his drink. “Go to bed, Y/N. Don’t wait up for me next time.”

He walks away, disappearing into his room.

You stay on the couch, staring at the empty glass he left behind.

You don’t cry. Not yet. You’ve spent too many nights crying yourself to sleep already.

But as the silence of the penthouse presses down on you, you realize something.

No matter how much love you have for Tony Stark—

He will never love you back.

---

The days blur into a cycle of indifference and quiet heartbreak. You’ve stopped trying to make breakfast for him. You don’t greet him in the mornings anymore. You don’t stay up waiting for him at night.

Not that he notices.

Tony spends most of his time at the office or out at events, playing the role of the charming billionaire, the playboy, the genius. To the rest of the world, nothing has changed. He’s still the same Tony Stark. The only difference is that now, he has a wife he never wanted.

And you?

You’re just existing in his world.

There are moments—fleeting, painful moments—where you think maybe he’ll soften, maybe he’ll acknowledge you in some way that doesn’t feel like a reminder of your worthlessness. But those moments never last.

Like the time you showed up at one of his galas.

Your presence wasn’t required. You knew that. Tony never invited you, never even mentioned it. But it was a Stark Industries event, and you were a Stark now, whether he liked it or not. So you dressed up, put on a brave face, and arrived with the hope that maybe—just maybe—he wouldn’t ignore you for one night.

That hope didn’t last long.

The moment you stepped into the grand ballroom, you felt the weight of a hundred eyes on you. People whispered, curious about the woman who had somehow managed to tie Tony Stark down.

But Tony?

He didn’t even look at you.

He was in the center of the room, drink in hand, surrounded by people who hung onto his every word. His smile was dazzling, his laugh effortless.

And standing beside him was a woman—tall, blonde, stunning in a dress that clung to her body like a second skin.

You recognized her.

Vanessa Harper. A model, a socialite, someone Tony had been seen with more times than you could count before the wedding.

And the way he looked at her—

It was different.

His arm brushed against hers as he leaned in, whispering something that made her laugh. His hand skimmed her waist, subtle but intimate.

He didn’t even acknowledge your presence.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to step forward. People greeted you, offering polite smiles and empty words, but your focus remained on him.

When you finally reached his side, your heart pounded in your chest. “Tony.”

He turned, finally noticing you. For a second, just a brief second, something flickered in his eyes—surprise, maybe. Annoyance.

Then it was gone.

“Oh,” he said casually, taking a sip of his drink. “You’re here.”

Vanessa looked at you, then at Tony, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You didn’t mention your wife was coming tonight.”

Tony smirked. “Didn’t think it was important.”

The words cut deeper than they should have.

You forced a small smile, ignoring the way your chest tightened. “It’s a Stark Industries event. I thought I should be here.”

Tony hummed, as if he couldn’t care less. Then, just as easily as he had acknowledged you, he turned back to Vanessa.

And just like that, you were invisible again.

You stood there, hands clenched at your sides, as Tony continued to flirt with her right in front of you.

He laughed at her jokes, touched her arm, leaned in close like she was the only person in the room.

Like you weren’t his wife.

People were watching.

Whispers spread like wildfire, murmurs of pity and curiosity.

You couldn’t breathe.

Your nails dug into your palms as you forced yourself to step back. To turn around. To walk away before the humiliation consumed you.

You didn’t even make it out of the ballroom before the first tear slipped down your cheek.

—

You don’t wait for him that night.

When you get home, you strip out of your dress, wipe the makeup from your face, and curl up in bed, staring at the ceiling.

You tell yourself you won’t cry. That it’s not worth it. That you knew this was coming.

But the tears come anyway.

Because it doesn’t matter how many times he hurts you, how many times he reminds you that you mean nothing to him—

You still love him.

And you hate yourself for it.

—

Tony doesn’t come home that night.

Or the night after.

You don’t ask where he is.

You already know.

---

The phone rings twice before your mother picks up.

“Y/N,” she greets, her voice smooth, controlled. Like nothing is wrong. Like she doesn’t know that you’re crumbling.

You’re already crying before you can speak. Silent tears slip down your face, your chest tight and aching. You’ve held it in for too long. You can’t anymore.

“Mom,” your voice cracks, “I can’t do this.”

A pause. Then a sigh. “Oh, sweetheart. What are you talking about?”

You grip the phone tighter, your fingers trembling. “This marriage,” you whisper. “It’s killing me.”

She says nothing. You hear the faint clink of a teacup being set down, the rustle of fabric. Then:

“Don’t be dramatic.”

You let out a choked laugh, but there’s nothing funny about this. “Dramatic?” you repeat. “Mom, he doesn’t love me. He doesn’t even like me. He treats me like I don’t exist.”

Another sigh, this time more impatient. “Y/N, you knew what this was when you agreed to it.”

“I—” You shake your head, pressing your fingers against your forehead. “I thought it would be different. I thought maybe we could at least—” Your breath hitches. “I thought maybe he would respect me.”

Your father’s voice cuts in this time, deep and firm. “Respect is earned, Y/N. You knew marrying into the Stark family was a business decision, not a fairytale.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “I don’t care about business,” you whisper. “I just wanted to be happy.”

“Happiness is a luxury,” he says. “You have power now. Wealth. Influence. You’re part of something bigger than yourself.”

“I don’t care about any of that!” you cry, gripping the phone so tightly your knuckles turn white. “I’m miserable! I can’t live like this! I want to leave, I want a divorce—”

“Absolutely not.” Your mother’s voice is sharp now, cold.

Your breath catches. “Mom—”

“You will not humiliate us,” she says. “Do you have any idea how much is at stake? Do you think you can just walk away because your feelings are hurt?”

Your stomach twists. “It’s not just my feelings—”

“You’re our daughter, Y/N, but you’re also part of an empire now,” your father interrupts. “And empires don’t crumble over foolish emotions.”

Your lips tremble. “You don’t care,” you whisper. “You don’t care that I’m suffering.”

Silence.

Then your mother says, “You’ll learn to live with it.”

A single tear slips down your cheek.

You nod, even though they can’t see you. “I understand.”

You hang up.

And then you shatter.

You sob into your hands, curling in on yourself. You were foolish to think they’d care. Foolish to think they’d choose you over money, over power, over their damn industry.

You have no one.

Not Tony. Not your parents.

No one.

—

That’s the moment you decide.

You’re done.

Done crying. Done trying. Done hoping for something that will never come.

If Tony doesn’t want you—if your own parents don’t care about you—then fine. You’ll stop caring, too.

—

The change is immediate.

You stop waiting for Tony to come home. You stop caring where he goes or who he’s with. You don’t set the table for two anymore. You don’t check his schedule to see if he’ll be at dinner.

You become distant. Cold. Detached.

And for the first time since your wedding, Tony notices.

At first, he seems relieved. Like your silence is a gift, like he’s finally free of your presence.

But then the days pass, and the atmosphere shifts.

You don’t speak to him unless necessary. When he walks into the penthouse, you barely look at him. When he makes coffee in the morning, you don’t acknowledge him.

You become a ghost in your own home.

And Tony—Tony doesn’t like it.

One night, he comes home late, as usual. You’re in the bedroom, brushing your hair in front of the mirror, your face blank, your eyes lifeless.

He leans against the doorway, watching you.

You ignore him.

Finally, he says, “You haven’t been nagging me lately.”

You meet his gaze in the mirror, but there’s no emotion in your eyes. “I guess I realized it’s pointless.”

Something flickers across his face. He opens his mouth, then closes it.

For the first time, he looks… unsettled.

But you don’t care. Not anymore.

---

You move through the penthouse like a ghost, your presence barely noticeable, your emotions locked away. The woman who once tried to love Tony Stark—the woman who once waited up for him, made his coffee, and longed for a shred of warmth—is gone.

In her place is someone colder, someone who has finally accepted the truth.

There is no marriage here. There is no love.

And now, there won’t even be a contract to bind you to him anymore.

The divorce papers sit on the dining table, neatly stacked, waiting. You’ve spent the last few weeks preparing for this moment. Meeting with lawyers in secret. Finding a new place to stay. Ignoring your parents’ warnings that leaving this marriage would be a disaster for them.

You don’t care anymore.

You refuse to live like this—trapped, invisible, unwanted.

So you’re leaving.

No matter what it costs.

—

Tony doesn’t notice right away.

He still moves through his routine like nothing has changed. He still stays out late, still acts like your presence is an afterthought. But you see the tiny moments of confusion. The flicker of frustration when you don’t react to his usual carelessness.

It’s almost funny.

He spent months acting like he didn’t want you, and now that you’ve given up, he’s irritated by it.

But it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except getting out.

—

The night you decide to tell him, it’s raining. The penthouse is dimly lit, the sound of the storm echoing through the large windows. You sit in the living room, the divorce papers on the coffee table in front of you, waiting for him.

When he finally walks in, he barely glances your way. He tosses his keys onto the counter, shrugs off his jacket, and heads toward the bar to pour himself a drink.

“Tony.”

Your voice is calm. Steady.

He pauses, glass in hand, before finally looking at you.

You gesture to the papers. “We need to talk.”

His eyes flicker to the stack of documents, then back to you. A slow exhale leaves his lips. He already knows.

Still, he walks over, setting his glass down beside the papers. He picks them up, flips through them lazily, and then—

He laughs.

A low, bitter chuckle, like this is some kind of joke.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he mutters.

You don’t react. “I’m leaving, Tony.”

He sets the papers down, his jaw tightening. “You think I’m just going to sign this?”

You lift your chin, meeting his gaze. “Yes.”

His eyes darken. “No.”

A small, humorless smile tugs at your lips. “You don’t get a say in this.”

His fingers drum against the table, slow and deliberate. “You married me. That’s a commitment, sweetheart.”

You flinch at the nickname, at the false sweetness in his tone. He’s never called you that before. Not in affection. Not in anything real.

“You don’t even want me here,” you say, voice hollow. “You never did.”

Something flashes across his face—something unreadable. But then he scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re being dramatic.”

You stare at him for a long moment. Then you reach forward, grab the pen beside the papers, and slide them toward him.

“Sign them.”

He doesn’t move.

Your fingers tighten around the pen. “Tony.”

His jaw clenches. “No.”

You swallow. “Why not?”

He looks at you, really looks at you, and for a second—just a second—you think he might actually say something real.

But then he smirks, that same arrogant, careless smirk he’s always worn. “Because I don’t like losing.”

You let out a breath, shaking your head. “This isn’t a game.”

“It’s always a game,” he counters.

Your throat tightens. He’s doing this on purpose—pushing, prodding, trying to get a reaction. Because if there’s one thing Tony Stark hates, it’s losing control.

But you won’t play his game anymore.

So you stand. “I’m done, Tony.”

He watches you, his expression unreadable as you turn away.

“You walk out that door, and you’re on your own,” he says.

You pause.

Then, without looking back, you whisper, “I always was.”

And then you leave.

—

The streets are slick with rain as you drive through the city, your mind racing.

You should feel relieved.

You’re finally free.

But your chest aches, your hands tremble against the wheel, and for some reason, your eyes won’t stop burning.

Why?

Why does it still hurt?

Why does some stupid, broken part of you still wish he would have stopped you?

You take a shaky breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter. No. You won’t think like that. You won’t let him have that power over you anymore.

You glance at your phone, debating whether to call a hotel or go to your new apartment—

The headlights come out of nowhere.

A blaring horn.

Screeching tires.

The impact is instant.

The world spins, glass shatters, pain explodes through your body—

And then everything fades to black.

—

Tony is still staring at the divorce papers when the call comes.

His phone buzzes on the counter, and for a moment, he considers ignoring it. But then he sees the number.

Unknown.

Something uneasy twists in his stomach.

He answers.

“Mr. Stark?” a voice asks. “We need you to come to Metro General. Your wife has been in an accident.”

Tony’s breath catches.

“What?”

“She was in a car crash. It’s serious.”

His grip tightens on the phone.

“She’s in a coma.”

---

The hospital room is too quiet.

Too still.

Tony sits beside your bed, hands clasped together, eyes fixed on your unmoving form. There are too many machines. Too many wires. The steady beep of the heart monitor is the only reassurance that you’re still here, still breathing.

You’ve been like this for days.

And Tony has never felt more helpless.

He’s seen destruction. He’s seen death. He’s cheated both more times than he can count. But nothing—nothing—prepared him for this.

For the unbearable stillness of you.

For the crushing weight of regret pressing against his ribs, suffocating him.

The doctor’s words keep playing in his head.

“She’s stable, but we don’t know when she’ll wake up.”

If she’ll wake up.

Tony grits his teeth, gripping the armrests of his chair. No. He won’t think like that.

He won’t lose you.

Even if he never deserved you to begin with.

—

The first night, he doesn’t leave the hospital.

The second night, he cancels all his meetings, ignores every call, and stays right where he is—beside you.

By the third night, he realizes something terrifying.

He can’t lose you.

Not just because of guilt.

Not just because of regret.

But because somewhere, in the mess of this forced marriage, between the cold words and cruel indifference—

He started to fall for you.

And he was too much of a coward to see it until now.

—

He doesn’t know when it happens.

Maybe it was the way you always looked at him, even when he didn’t deserve it. Maybe it was the way you tried—really tried—to make this work, to reach for him, even when he pushed you away.

Or maybe it was the way you stopped.

The moment you went cold, the moment you gave up on him—on this—something inside him cracked.

He just didn’t understand it then.

But he understands now.

And he’s going to fix it.

—

When you wake up, your entire body aches.

Your vision is blurry, your throat dry, and for a moment, everything feels unreal. Like you’re floating between dreams and reality.

Then you hear a voice.

“Y/N?”

You blink. Slowly, your eyes adjust, and then—

Tony.

He looks exhausted. His hair is a mess, his clothes are wrinkled, and there are dark circles under his eyes. But none of that matters because the look on his face—

You’ve never seen it before.

Relief.

Genuine, overwhelming relief.

“Hey,” he says, voice rough, like he hasn’t spoken in hours.

You try to speak, but your throat burns. He notices immediately, grabbing a cup of water and helping you drink. His hands are gentle, careful, like he’s afraid you’ll break.

You clear your throat. “What… happened?”

His jaw tightens. “Car accident. You’ve been in a coma for five days.”

Five days.

You inhale sharply, memories crashing into you all at once. The rain. The headlights. The impact.

Leaving Tony.

The divorce.

You shift slightly, ignoring the pain that shoots through your body. “The papers—”

“Forget the papers,” Tony cuts in.

You frown. “Tony—”

“No,” he says, firmer this time. “You almost died, Y/N.”

You swallow, looking away. “I know.”

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “I—” He hesitates. “I screwed up.”

You close your eyes. “Yeah,” you whisper. “You did.”

There’s a long silence. You don’t look at him, but you can feel his gaze on you—heavy, uncertain.

Finally, he speaks. “Give me a month.”

You blink, turning your head toward him. “What?”

He leans forward, forearms resting on his knees. “One month,” he repeats. “Let me fix this. Let me prove that this marriage doesn’t have to end like this.”

Your heart clenches. “Tony—”

“If, after a month, you still want to leave,” he says, voice quieter now, “I’ll sign the papers.”

You stare at him. “You don’t want the divorce.”

His eyes meet yours, raw and open in a way you’ve never seen before. “No,” he admits. “I don’t.”

Your throat tightens. A part of you wants to laugh at the irony. The moment you stop chasing him is the moment he decides to chase you.

But another part of you—one you’re not ready to acknowledge—wants to believe him.

Wants to believe that maybe, just maybe, this isn’t over.

You inhale slowly. “One month,” you say.

Tony nods.

Your lips press together. “Then you sign the papers.”

His jaw clenches, but he nods again. “Then I sign the papers.”

You look away, staring at the ceiling.

One month.

You don’t know if that’s enough time to change anything.

But for some reason, for the first time in a long time—

You think you want it to be.

---

Tony doesn’t waste any time.

The very next morning, he’s already in your hospital room before you’ve even properly woken up, holding a cup of coffee that he shoves into your hands before you can protest.

“I bribed a nurse for it,” he says, sitting down in the chair beside your bed.

You eye him warily. “Isn’t there a rule against giving caffeine to patients?”

“Probably.” He shrugs. “But I figured you could use it.”

You hesitate, then take a small sip. It’s perfect—exactly how you like it. The realization makes your chest tighten.

“Thanks,” you mutter, keeping your eyes on the cup.

Tony leans back in his chair, watching you. “So, uh… how are you feeling?”

You exhale slowly. “Like I got hit by a truck.”

His jaw tightens. “Yeah.” He looks down, tapping his fingers against his knee. “I, uh… I did some reading. About recovery. Apparently, physical therapy helps a lot.”

You blink at him. “You did research?”

He rubs the back of his neck, looking slightly embarrassed. “I might have gone down a rabbit hole.”

The mental image of Tony Stark, billionaire genius, spending hours reading about post-accident recovery makes something in your chest ache.

You push the feeling down.

Before you can respond, there’s a knock on the door, and a nurse steps in with breakfast.

Tony moves quickly, taking the tray from her before she can set it down. “I got it, thanks.”

The nurse gives you a knowing smile before leaving.

You glance at Tony. “What are you doing?”

“Being a good husband,” he says, setting the tray on your lap.

You stare at him. “Since when?”

Tony meets your gaze, something serious flickering in his eyes. “Since now.”

—

The next few days are… different.

Tony is there. All the time.

He brings you coffee every morning. He helps adjust your pillows when you shift uncomfortably. He stays up late when you can’t sleep, talking to you about everything and nothing.

It’s strange.

You don’t know what to do with this version of him. The one who suddenly cares.

And part of you doesn’t trust it.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask one night, after he’s helped you walk across the room for the third time that day.

Tony looks at you, and for once, there’s no sarcasm, no bravado—just quiet honesty.

“Because I don’t want to lose you,” he admits.

Your heart stutters.

You don’t respond.

You can’t.

—

When you’re finally discharged, Tony insists on taking you home himself.

You sit stiffly in the car, staring out the window as he drives.

“I was thinking,” he says after a while, “you should come with me to a gala next weekend.”

You frown, turning to him. “A gala?”

“Yeah.” He glances at you. “It’s one of those boring business events, but I figured it might be good for you to get out, you know? See people.”

You arch an eyebrow. “See people? Or let them see that we’re still married?”

Tony’s grip tightens slightly on the steering wheel. “It’s not like that.”

You scoff. “Sure.”

He sighs, glancing at you again. “Y/N, come on. It’ll be fun.”

You stare at him. “Fun?”

“Well, as fun as these things can be.” He smirks. “Plus, you’ll get to see me in a suit. I know you secretly like that.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he says, “you’re still here.”

For now.

But he doesn’t say that.

And neither do you.

---

The gala is everything Tony warned you it would be: crowded, extravagant, and loud.

The lights are blinding, the conversations blur into a cacophony, and the air feels thick with wealth and power.

You're used to this world. You grew up in it, surrounded by the glittering faces and the endless speeches about success and influence. But tonight, it feels different. Tonight, you feel like an outsider.

Tony stands beside you, his hand lightly placed on the small of your back, guiding you through the sea of well-dressed guests. His presence is the only thing keeping you grounded, and you can't help but feel the weight of his attention on you.

His hand stays there, warm and reassuring, but it's more than just that. His touch—his whole demeanor—is… different.

Gone is the usual cocky, sarcastic Tony Stark. Gone is the man who would flirt with anything that moved and ignore you in favor of his latest conquest.

Tonight, Tony’s focus is entirely on you.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice low, as if he's genuinely concerned about how you’re holding up.

You glance up at him, surprised by the softness in his tone. "I'm fine," you answer, though you're not sure if you believe it yourself.

He looks down at you, his eyes filled with something unspoken. "You sure?"

"Yeah," you reply, offering him a smile. "Just not a big fan of crowds."

"I get that," he says, his hand giving your back a reassuring squeeze. He doesn't let go.

You both make your way through the room, and the murmurs of the guests around you grow louder. It’s clear they’re talking about you—about your marriage, about how strange it is to see you with Tony, considering the stories they’ve heard.

But Tony? He’s not listening to any of them.

Every time someone tries to engage with him, he brushes them off politely, always redirecting the conversation back to you. He’s unusually attentive, asking you questions, making sure you’re comfortable, making sure you feel seen in a room full of people who likely don’t even know your name.

It’s a side of him you never thought you’d see.

And it's almost making you second-guess everything you thought you knew about him.

"Can I get you something to drink?" he asks after a few minutes, his hand still lingering on your waist.

You shake your head. "I'm okay."

He nods, looking pleased that you didn’t need anything, but he still seems restless. It’s as if he’s determined to prove something to you, or maybe prove something to himself.

You wonder if he’s thinking about the same things.

Just as you’re about to speak, you see her.

Vanessa.

A striking woman, tall, elegant, with a platinum blonde updo and a smile that could melt ice. You’ve met her before—at one of Tony’s events—but tonight she’s practically glowing in her dress, her eyes immediately locking on Tony when she sees him.

And you know the look she gives him. It’s the same one she’s given him every time they’ve crossed paths. The one that says she wants him, and she wants him now.

Tony notices her at the same time you do, but this time, his reaction is nothing like it used to be.

Instead of leaning in, making a joke, or greeting her with a flirtatious smile, Tony straightens. He subtly adjusts his posture, his hand tightening around your waist, pulling you just a little closer.

Vanessa approaches them, a smirk already playing at her lips. "Tony," she says, her voice smooth as silk. "It's been too long."

"Vanessa," Tony replies, his voice distant, cool.

You can feel the tension in the air. You can see it in the way Tony’s jaw clenches, in the way his eyes stay locked on Vanessa but refuse to soften.

And you realize, with a jolt, that Tony isn’t just ignoring Vanessa—he’s actively pushing her away.

"How’ve you been?" she asks, her eyes flickering to you for a moment, before settling back on Tony.

"I’m good," Tony says curtly, then without missing a beat, he shifts his attention back to you. "Y/N, would you like to dance?"

The question catches you off guard, but you find yourself nodding. "Sure."

Tony gives you a small, reassuring smile, one that feels different from the others. There’s something softer in it. Something more honest.

Before you can even process it, Tony’s already guiding you toward the dance floor, leaving Vanessa standing there, her mouth slightly agape, her eyes narrowing in something like confusion or frustration.

But Tony doesn’t even glance back. He doesn’t give her a second of his attention.

It’s a subtle shift, but it’s a powerful one.

And for the first time since you’ve known him, you can see the depth of his sincerity.

As you step onto the dance floor, Tony takes your hand firmly in his, positioning you against him with a confidence that feels both familiar and strange. He’s not treating you like a business arrangement tonight. He’s treating you like… well, like someone he cares about.

“Don’t worry about them,” he says quietly as you begin to sway together, his voice low enough that only you can hear it. “Let them talk. We’re here for us.”

You blink up at him, surprised by his words. You hadn’t realized how much the whispers in the room had been bothering you until now. The pressure of their eyes, the feeling of judgment. But Tony, as always, manages to take the edge off.

“I’m just…” You pause, unsure of how to put it into words. “I don’t know how to do this.”

Tony meets your eyes, his gaze intense, as if he’s considering everything that’s led you both here. “You don’t have to be perfect,” he says, squeezing your hand. “Just be you. And I’ll be me.”

It’s such a simple statement, but it carries so much weight. For the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe—just maybe—this marriage, this mess of a relationship, might be worth something after all.

The song continues, slow and soft, and you let yourself fall into it, the world around you slowly fading. You focus on Tony’s presence, the warmth of his hand, the rhythm of his movements.

It’s easier this way.

Maybe it’s because of everything that’s happened. Maybe it’s because you’ve both been through so much already. Or maybe it’s because, for the first time, Tony is showing you a side of himself you’ve never seen.

His attention is entirely on you. His eyes never leave yours, his hand never lets go.

The woman who once held his attention effortlessly is nothing now, a distant memory.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice low, “I don’t want to lose you.”

You stop, your breath catching in your throat. You look up at him, searching his face for any sign of the old Tony—cocky, aloof, distant. But there’s nothing there.

His expression is raw, vulnerable in a way that makes your chest ache.

“I’m here,” you say softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time since you’ve known him, you believe it.

You both keep dancing.

---

Tony doesn’t get a free pass just because he was nice for one night.

You’ve been burned too many times before.

He might have ignored Vanessa, might have acted like a devoted husband at the gala, but that doesn’t erase the months of indifference, the way he used to treat you like nothing more than a business transaction.

So you make it difficult for him.

You don’t reject his gestures outright, but you don’t encourage them either. When he brings you coffee in the mornings, you thank him politely, but you don’t smile. When he pulls out a chair for you at the dining table, you sit without a word. When he lingers too close, when his hand brushes against yours as if testing your reaction, you pull away before he can get too comfortable.

Tony notices.

Of course he notices.

But instead of getting frustrated and giving up—like the old Tony might have—he tries harder.

At first, it almost annoys you.

He follows you around the penthouse, trying to engage you in conversation. He asks about your day, about the books you’re reading, about the movies you like.

He never used to care about any of that before.

One evening, you come home from a short walk and find that your favorite meal is waiting for you on the dining table. The scent fills the air, warm and inviting.

You look at Tony, suspicious. “What is this?”

He shrugs, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Dinner.”

“You cooked?”

Tony scoffs. “Do I look like I know how to cook? I had it made.”

Of course he did.

But the fact that he remembered what you liked, that he went through the trouble, makes something uncomfortable twist inside you.

Still, you keep your expression neutral. “Thanks,” you say, sitting down.

Tony doesn’t join you right away. He just watches, waiting for your reaction.

It’s frustrating.

Because you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

Because part of you is still scared.

Because if you let yourself believe that this is real—if you let yourself fall for him again—you don’t know if you’ll survive it when he inevitably stops trying.

So you keep your walls up.

And Tony keeps fighting to break them down.

—

He never misses an opportunity to prove himself.

You go out to a small café one afternoon, needing space, needing time to think. You don’t tell Tony where you’re going, but when you step inside, you see him there.

Waiting.

He’s sitting at a corner table, already sipping on a cup of coffee, and when he spots you, he waves like he just casually happened to be there, like he didn’t deliberately track your location and get there before you.

You exhale sharply, marching up to him. “Are you following me?”

Tony grins, unfazed. “I prefer the term ‘coincidentally appearing where my wife is.’”

You fold your arms. “You do realize this isn’t normal behavior, right?”

Tony leans back in his chair, studying you. “Maybe not. But nothing about us has ever been normal.”

You hate how easily he gets under your skin.

Still, a tiny part of you—one you refuse to acknowledge—likes that he’s trying.

You sit down across from him, sighing. “Fine. If you’re going to stalk me, at least buy me a coffee.”

Tony smirks. “Done.”

—

As the days pass, you start to see it.

The change.

It’s not just in the grand gestures or the obvious efforts. It’s in the little things.

The way he listens when you talk.

The way he doesn’t interrupt or dismiss your thoughts.

The way he notices when you’re tired and gives you space, but also notices when you’re upset and refuses to let you wallow.

He’s not just trying to win you over—he’s genuinely trying to be better.

But you still don’t have the answer to the one thing that matters most.

You don’t know why.

Is he doing this just to keep up appearances? To avoid the scandal of a divorce? Or is there something more?

You refuse to let yourself believe in the latter until you’re sure.

Until you have proof.

—

The end of the month approaches faster than you expect.

And Tony? He doesn’t slow down.

If anything, he becomes even more present, more insistent.

He takes you out—to dinners, to museums, even to a drive-in movie one night, which surprises you because you never expected Tony Stark to be the type to sit through a two-hour film in a car.

(He spends half the movie making sarcastic comments about the plot, but you catch him sneaking glances at you more than the screen.)

He also starts touching you more.

Not in a way that feels demanding or forceful—just small, lingering touches. A hand on your lower back as he guides you through a room. A brush of his fingers against yours when he hands you something.

It’s subtle, but it’s enough to make your heart ache.

Because if this isn’t real—if this is all just a temporary act—then he’s being cruel without even realizing it.

So, on the final night before the month is over, you ask him the one thing you’ve been too afraid to say out loud.

“Do you love me?”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy, impossible to take back.

Tony freezes.

You watch as the cocky mask he so often wears slips, as something raw flickers in his expression.

He doesn’t answer right away, and the silence is suffocating.

But you don’t look away.

You need the truth.

You deserve it.

Finally, Tony exhales, running a hand through his hair. When he speaks, his voice is quieter than you’ve ever heard it.

“I didn’t think I could.”

Your breath catches. “What?”

He looks at you, and for the first time, you see it—everything he’s been holding back.

“I never thought I was capable of it,” he admits. “Loving someone. Being loved.” His throat works as he swallows, his gaze never leaving yours. “I pushed you away because it was easier. Because I was terrified.”

You don’t know what to say.

Tony takes a step closer, his voice steadier now.

“But then you left.” His jaw tightens. “And I realized that losing you was worse than anything I was afraid of.”

Tears burn at the back of your eyes. “Tony…”

“I love you,” he says, the words breaking something inside you. “I love you, and I’m sorry it took me this long to figure it out.”

You should say something.

But the emotions overwhelm you, your heart pounding too loudly in your chest.

Tony hesitates, his eyes searching yours. “If you still want me to sign the divorce papers, I will. I won’t force you to stay in something that hurts you.”

Your breath shudders.

This is the moment you’ve been waiting for—the proof that he’s changed, that he’s not just doing this for show.

Because if this were just about avoiding a scandal, he wouldn’t give you a choice.

And yet, here he is, handing you the decision.

You exhale slowly, blinking back the tears.

“I don’t want you to sign them,” you whisper.

Tony’s shoulders relax, relief flooding his face.

You take a step closer. “But I need time. I need to trust that this isn’t just temporary.”

Tony nods, his hands reaching out to gently cup your face. “Take all the time you need.”

And when he kisses you—soft, slow, filled with everything he’s been too afraid to say—you finally let yourself believe that maybe this could be real.

---

Tony is patient with you.

At first, you expect him to push—because that’s who he is. But he doesn’t. He lets you come to him on your own terms.

It starts with small moments.

A kiss in the morning when he brings you coffee, just a quick press of lips before he murmurs, “Good morning, sweetheart.”

A lingering touch at dinner, his fingers brushing against your knee under the table as he listens to you talk.

A slow, lazy kiss in the hallway after an evening out, his hands resting at your waist like he never wants to let go.

The tenderness in his touch, the warmth in his gaze, the way he looks at you like you’re the most important thing in the world—it all makes you realize that this isn’t an act. This isn’t temporary.

Tony has changed.

And more importantly—he loves you.

That’s why, one night, when he kisses you deeper than usual, when his hands slide up your back, pulling you flush against him, you don’t pull away.

You let yourself want this. Want him.

Tony notices the shift immediately. His breathing turns heavier, his hands trembling slightly as they roam your body, like he’s savoring every inch of you.

He breaks the kiss just enough to search your eyes. “Are you sure?”

You answer by kissing him again, tilting your head to give him everything.

It’s slow at first, every touch a reassurance, a promise.

But then, it turns into something more.

Something desperate.

Something you’ve both been holding back for far too long.

—

You don’t leave the bed for hours.

And when you do, it’s only because Tony insists on carrying you to the shower, pressing lazy kisses to your skin as the warm water cascades over both of you.

Afterward, he tucks you into bed, pulling you close, his arms around you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs against your hair. “And I’m yours.”

It’s the first time he’s ever said anything like that.

And you know he means it.

—

A few days later, you attend another event with him.

This time, things are different.

This time, you don’t feel like just a business partner standing at his side.

You feel like his wife.

Tony barely leaves your side the entire night. His hand rests on your waist, his thumb stroking absent patterns against the fabric of your dress. He kisses your temple in between conversations, leans down to murmur comments in your ear that make you laugh.

You feel adored.

Cherished.

But then, you see her.

Vanessa.

She’s standing near the bar, watching Tony like she always does.

You know that look. You’ve seen it before.

The difference is that now, you do something about it.

When Tony turns his attention to greet someone, you make your way across the room, walking right up to Vanessa.

Her lips curl into a smirk. “Oh? Finally ready to fight for him?”

You tilt your head. “No. Just ready to remind you that I’ve already won.”

You don’t give her a chance to respond.

Instead, you turn on your heel, grab Tony’s hand, and pull him with you toward the nearest bathroom.

He barely has time to react before you push him inside, locking the door behind you.

Tony raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Well, this is a surprise.”

You don’t answer.

Instead, you kiss him.

It’s different from before—fiercer, more possessive.

Tony groans against your lips, backing you up against the counter. “Jealous, sweetheart?”

You nip at his bottom lip in response. “Shut up.”

He grins, but it quickly fades as your hands start to wander.

The rest of the world ceases to exist.

—

When you finally leave the bathroom, everyone knows.

Your hair is slightly messy, your lipstick smudged. Tony’s tie is loose, his expression smug as he keeps his arm around your waist, walking you back into the event like nothing happened.

Vanessa glares.

Tony leans in, whispering against your ear, “That was hot.”

You smirk, gripping his hand tighter.

And from that moment on, there’s no doubt left—

Tony Stark is yours.

And he loves it.

116 notes · View notes

kurogxrix · 2 years ago

Note

omg stark!reader n Peter in stark tower flirting and tony teases them (hopefully mutual pining and like they haven’t confessed to each other yet)

Dedicate Your Heart

Peter Parker x Stark!reader

A/N: reader can be seen as Tony’s biological or adopted daughter :)

“To your left Spider-Man!” had been the last thing that Peter had heard before getting shoved to the side, quite painfully so be the stack of boxes that you had been carrying. The tower of cardboard threatened you with a stagger as you bumped into Peter, before peacefully settling back in place.

Despite it being a mid saturday morning, you found yourself in your father’s lab instead of in the comfort of your dear room. Though you’d already agreed to help him, so there was no way you could turn back on him now. Admitively you weren’t here totally by your own will, you’d solely done it because Tony had teased you about being some edgy teenager that sticks in her room all day. And while you were, admitting with no shame that staying slumped on your bed while blasting some old school rock through your headphones was definitely a vibe, you decided to prove to your dad that there were many other things that you could do to render that brain of yours utile.

It wasn’t like your father was a stranger to your accomplishments, far from that.

Setting the boxes down on the countertop, you couldn’t help the heavy groan that escaped your mouth. You didn’t have super strength like most of the other people living in the tower, and damn could a few boxes make your backache go crazy. Nevertheless, throughout your struggle, you failed to notice the way that a certain curly haired brunette had his eyes stuck on you for the duration of your time here.

Peter had not even said anything after you had brutally (in his dictionary. You’d argue and say that it was playfully) shoved him away with your boxes. Instead, his eyes lingered on your form. He nearly had to slap himself after his iris laid on your torso for a little too long, but could you blame him?

The skin-tight black tank top that you often wore while working in the lab was just so attractive to Peter.

He watched as the shirt slid up a couple of inches as you stretched, exposing a sliver of your stomach and rippling the muscles in your arms. Sure you weren’t as bulky as Thor yet alone Hulk, but fighting crime alongside the avengers and training with them did flatter your physique. God, Peter was sure that he must’ve been drooling by now. What a fool.

“You want a picture too or are you too busy engraving the sight in your mind?” your voice shook Peter out of his stance, a bright red colour raising upon the back of his neck as you caught him checking you out red handed. The sole sound of your assertive tone had him doubling over, at least in his head, because he could avoid being humiliated furthermore.

“Hey, wasn’t it you that chose my outfit for our last gala? Heard from a little birdie that it was because you thought i’d look handsome in it?” Peter retaliated, though his voice held more diffidence than yours did. You froze upon his admission, the metallic parts of the gadget that you were working on released a loud ‘thud’ as it came down to hit against the countertop. You winced at the sound, internally cursing your mother figure, Pepper, for exposing your secret.

It was true though, and there was no point in denying it now that it was out in the open. You could still remember the exact moment that Tony had informed you all about some gala that you had to attend alongside him, some rich guy thing. Although you protested, he insisted. So that’s how you’d ended up in this position, having to choose a partner that was actually your age to accompany you there. It wasn’t that you necessarily needed one so badly, but every other avenger already had someone to accompany them, but the age gap between yourself and the rest of your team already made you feel sort of excluded in most things, so bringing a date it was.

Beyond everyone else, your first thought was to ring Peter up and ask him about it. After all, he was perfect for the job. He already knew your father and he was always so enthusiastic for whatever journey you’d reserve for him. Only problem was, well…Peter was broke. So given that you were the daughter of a billionaire, you might’ve as well dressed him up. Though as soon as you thought about Peter in a specific suit, you felt your brain short circuiting in awe.

It took you a moment to recover from your lone embarrassment. How could the mere thought of a man get you so riled up? It was those kinds of questions that you’d always bring up to yourself when it came to Peter, and on that night, you came to the fact that you might’ve had feelings for the boy. Naturally, as a teenage girl, you would’ve firstly ran to your phone to text your friends about it. Though you ran short on these, being a Stark, you knew how people could get once they indulged in another’s’ money and clout. The ideas of having friends apart from the avengers had completely been wiped clean out of your mind after a few failed attempts.

You thought about telling Natasha, and as much as you loved the older woman, you dreaded the way she’d tease you if you ever opened up about your feelings for a certain Spider-man. So, telling your mother it was.

“My mom is such a snitch.” you mumbled under your breath, supposedly to yourself but the chuckle that escaped Peter told you that it came out a little

louder than expected. The lab was relatively quiet after that, other than the sounds of you piecing things together and Peter’s loud thinking as he made a virtual maquette of what he was planning. To the both of you, the secret glances that you were exchanging might’ve gone over your heads, but not to a certain billionaire playboy that stood by the elevator door. Well scratch that, ex-playboy.

Once again, the lab was quiet. Almost too quiet for it to be containing the both of you teens in there, Tony thought to himself. He was no stranger to Peter’s feelings towards you, neither were the other avengers, nor yourselves at that. The flirting was nothing new to the obscene things that the poor heros were bound to see, and it was almost too much for them to handle. It was like a constant war between teammates that was happening in the tower. One side would agree with the fact that you were both oblivious to each other’s feelings, while the other half believed that you were both very aware, but undeniable cowards when it came to outwardly confessing.

Your dad fell in the team of people who believed that you both knew you liked each other. How could he not? He had to suffer through your endless flirting and playful banners everyday. Plus, he knew admiration when he saw it. He is Tony Stark after all, he’d received many lovestruck looks in his youth, and they’d only multiplied as he aged.

Amidst his work, Peter couldn’t concentrate for any longer with the amount of noise that you were causing. Your patience ran short as you tried to forcefully shove a metal piece against another, not understanding why it wasn’t fitting together. One look at you and he could tell that you were frustrated. Your creased eyebrows, that slightly disgusted look that you wore on your face, it all told the same exact story. Narrated through your eyes that were piercing daggers at the poor gadget before you, Peter knew better than to just leave you alone. Mainly because he feared for the poor object, a woman’s wrath is not to be played with.

“I mean, kiss me if i’m right but, this piece most definitely goes here.” Peter took the piece from your hand, startling you slightly as he appeared out of thin air. His words rang inside your head for a second, the thoughts of kissing Peter making you feel dizzy after so long of chasing one another. The endless nights spent awake just to text Peter and the amount of time that you’d sneak out just to meet up with the curly haired boy. It all meant more than it would let off, and that was much considering nearly everyone thought you two were already dating.

You allowed Peter to take the segment of your father’s work from your hands, placing it in a slot that was laid idiotically close to the one that you were trying to force it in. Without hesitation, you hurriedly plugged in the machine, and with enthusiasm, you watched as your father’s project lit up successfully.

In the midst of everything, Peter could barely makeout that time that it had taken you to turn around and engulf him in your embrace. Warm and familiar arms welcoming him as they latched behind his neck, he nearly doubled back at your force.

“I’d kiss you but that’d just destroy everything that we’ve built throughout these years now, wouldn’t it?” you bat your eyelashes up at him, the side of your face flushed against his chest as Peter looked down at you with those doe eyes of his. You could’ve sworn that it wasn’t you that was trying to soften him with that sweet look, but quite the inverse.

You both indulged in the moment, guilty of relishing the other with nothing else but your eyes. Though what lied in your iris told another story than one that’s platonic, your mouths just couldn’t allow yourselves to confess. It wasn’t that you both were oblivious to the other’s feelings, you both just feared the change of dynamic that’d come with altering this relationship into a romantic one.

You feared that your teasing texts would turn into unceasingly mushy ones. And Peter feared that if anything bad was to happen between you two, he’d lose you forever, even as a friend. Though you both were young and understanding, you set asid the thought of making anything official for now.

As you continued to stare into Peter’s eyes, you couldn’t help but lean further into him, closer up. He reciprocated your motion, pupils never straying away from your own as his breath hitched under the circumstances. Sure you weren’t ready for a relationship with Peter now, but what harm was there with a little kiss? You could always be all up in eachothers faces one day and fist-bump like highschool best-friends on the other.

“Oh and cut it to the wedding scene already, we’ve been through too much foreplay!” there came the clap of his hands before his words, and soon was your father’s cover blown. You both froze at the teasing tone of his voice, familiar so, it was impossible to escape the Stark banter. You almost scoffed audibly before remembering the position that you were currently in. Peter felt his heartstrings being tugged at once he felt you parting away from him, but yet again, you guys were nothing more than just friends.

The rise of crimson colour upon Peter’s cheeks was a cute sight to see, and admitively you’d spend more time admiring him in his flustered state, but for now, you had an irritated attitude to put on for your father.

“For how long have you been stalking us, old man?” you rolled your eyes at your father, crossing your arms above your torso as you stared him down. The smirk that played on Tony’s face irked you, and you wanted nothing more than Pepper walking in and telling him off. God only knows how much a husband fears his wife, and Tony more than feared his own. He laughed shortly, throwing his head back as though you had said the funniest thing ever heard by men. Peter just stood there in all of his awkwardness, moving his head to gaze at your father and you relentlessly like some cartoon character.

“Long enough to know that your little flirting in my lab is disgusting, get your own to do that crap over there.” he responded sarcastically, a Tony Stark trait.

“I was not flirting with your daughter, Mr Stark!” Peter retaliated nervously, his words coming out faster than his mind could comprehend. He felt even more stressed as he watched his superior stare him down with an amused expression on, feigning comprehension before opening that mouth of his once more.

“Right and that explains why you were just about to kiss her? Cmon kids, I was anything but born yesterday.” Tony laughed at you both once more, and clearly, he was enjoying this way more than the two of you.

Before any of you have the time to respond, your father was already on his way out. With his back facing towards you, he plucked his iconic sunglasses from the pocket of pants, the arc reactor peeking through the fabric of his thin summer shirt.

“Be sure to be safe, your kids could end up just like my lovely daughter, and I'm sure none of you guys are ready for this!” your father turned around swiftly to wink playfully at you, sending the pair of you finger guns as he walked backwards towards the elevator. Lord, how much did you wish for him to slip and break his saunter, but a man such as Tony was too smooth in his ways. With the humiliation of his words running thick through your veins, and your head in your hands in shame, you’d promised yourself that you’d get your revenge on your dear father. Somewhat, someday.

The sound of the elevator’s ‘ting’ sent relief coursing throughout Peter and you, now that your father is gone, you’d have to deal with the other situation at hand.

“We weren’t flirting right? Just talking as friends?” Peter nervously rambled as soon as you turned back around to face him. His words were the opposite of what he wanted, of course he wanted you both to flirt as more than friends, but he didn’t want to scare you if anything. His hand was itching a spot behind his neck, where nothing irritated him, it was just an anxious habit that he had. Trying to surpass a chuckle, you sauntered your way towards the brunette.

Peter’s eyes widened comically as you raised a hand towards him, and his thoughts ran wild with anticipation. Was this it? Were you finally going to surpass this fear of commitment and just kiss him? His shoulders dropped visibly when your hand came to remove his own from his neck, saving him from the rash that he was bound to develop after itching the same spot repetitively like he always did.

Peter’s heart did an nearly audible ‘oh’ in disappointment. Though on the outside, he was all shiny smiles and full set of teeth on display. He was ready to move past what you had, but if you couldn’t meet him halfway, how could he act on it?

Peter observed with keen eyes as you walked back to your spot, sending a curt notice to F.R.I.D.A.Y, asking to press play on your playlist.

Suddenly, Peter’s disappointment was replaced with something else. With dedication, perhaps. He vowed to make a change in what you had by the end of this year, promising himself to prove to you that maybe a relationship with him wasn’t so bad. That you could work things out like two responsible people if anything were to happen. He just urged to get a taste of you, of what it was like to wake up and be more than just your best bud.

i wrote this with a swollen thumb and i half-asleep mind so please don’t judge😭

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #spiderman #spiderman x trader #tom holland x reader #stark!reader #mcu!peter x reader #mcu!peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x stark!reader #tony stark x daughter!reader

1K notes · View notes

xmalereader · 1 year ago

Text

Tom! Peter Parker x Stark! Male Reader

☆ — MASTERLIST — ☆

REQUEST: I need a Itimidating Reader x Tom! Peter Parker. Like reader could be Captain American or Iron Man's son and he has been dating Peter secretly cause you know Peter is shy about things and doesn't want to make things big. So reader holds back but he had enough when one days he witnessed Thompson and other bullies doing the worst to Peter. So he does what any boyfriend will do, show those bullies their place and maybe maybe, Avengers comes and gives a piece of their mind as well to those bullies. Cause I like Avengers being a found family with them being protective of their youngest member 😭😭🤌🏻🤌🏻

CONTENT/WARNINGS: Fluff, slight angst, reader is Tony starks son, mentions of Morgan and Pepper, Ned being terrible at secrets, MJ supports, mature language, slight kissing, short shot, flash is a bully, mentions of violence, mentions of hero work, teenage love, school stuff.

TAGS: @nobodylivesson

WC: 2k

NOTES: I tried my best to suit to your request, I wrote this one late at night and was probably half asleep after completing it 🥲, but either way I hope you really enjoy it! I wasn’t able to bring in the rest of the superhero family since I didn’t know how to slip it in without going off track. But either way I love the whole superfamily fics and the concept of Stony adopting Peter ( ´∀｀) those are my comfort fics.

Peter wasn’t ashamed of who he was dating he just didn’t make it a big deal that he was dating Starks son. When Y/n joined the school he had already known him from the time that he was working at Starks internship. He’d see him around the lab either helping his father on a few side projects or just to bother Tony into leaving work and getting a proper meal and rest.

While Tony was away it left both Peter and Y/n on their own and giving them time to actually know each other. Their side conversations turned into flirting and then light touches until Y/n was the first to make the move on Peter and asking him out. Peter was a shy kid and never got the attention from people he liked nor was he good at socializing without stuttering or hesitating on his conversations.

Ever since Y/n joined Peters school the two were closer than ever and enjoyed their time together. Peter kept their relationship a secret in order to prevent the other students from finding out that he’s dating Tony Starks kid. Even if he told anyone about it they wouldn’t believe that he’s dating someone like Y/n.

It didn’t take long for Ned to find out that Peter was dating.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Ned, his best friend since childhood. The reason he never told him was because he knew how terriable his friend was at keeping secrets. When he found out that he was the cities hero there were times that he almost slipped up and exposed his secret to those around him and always had to remind his friend that no one was suppose to know that he’s Spider-Man.

Ned had caught the two making out on Peters bed.

Peter had forgotten about inviting Ned over for a weekend sleepover due to him being distracted by Y/n coming over and having dinner with both him and his aunt May. After that they’ve left the table to spend time in Peters room which resulted into them making out like most teenagers would and then getting caught by Ned.

His poor friend could only stare in shock when he found out and after a couple of minutes of shock he finally started to ask them question such as; “How did you meet? When did you start dating? Are you really dating Starks son?”

The sleepover turned out to be a very interesting night for Ned.

Ned was still getting used to the fact that Peter was dating Y/n, but Tony wasn’t too happy about the fact that his son was dating Peter the kid that he chose to pass down his work to. Y/n did work with Tony but the kid was never interested in becoming an inventor or an engineer and instead focused more on things that made him feel happy. Tony never pressured his son to take over and instead accepted his goals and dreams.

Peter expected Tony to interrogate him when finding out that he’s dating his son, but instead of being asked on why he was dating his son. His question so we’re mainly aimed towards Y/n who ate in silence during their dinner together with Pepper sitting next to Tony and his sister Morgan sitting across from Peter.

“Why him?”

“Because I like him.”

“Why not some other guy or girl?”

“Do you not want me to date Peter?”

“I don’t want you distracting him from work.”

The conversation was mainly between Y/n and Tony while Pepper was kind enough to speak with Peter about school and his aunt and how they were doing, trying to keep both son and father from killing each other while having their first dinner. By the end of the day Peter became a favorite to the Stark family especially with Morgan who loved Peters attention and placed puzzle games with him winning the little girls heart over in less than seconds.

Things were going fine until the bullying picked up at school.

Flash had noticed how close Peter was being with Y/n during lunch and class hours, thinking that Peter was trying to get extra brownie points with Mr. Stark and befriending his son in order to get closer to the man. He knew that Starks kid was going to be in their school and had grown jealous by how close Peter was getting, ruining his opportunity to befriend Y/n.

When Y/n wasn’t around, Flash and his goons would quickly go after Peter. The good thing is that Peter was great at escaping and was always getting around from Flashes wrath, either running inside a full classroom during lunch hours or running outside where he’d climb onto the roof top in order to avoid Flash.

Peter never told Y/n and he never found out.

The bullying never happened when Y/n was around and whenever Flash approached them he’d always fake his emotions which Peter hated seeing. He could see through Flashes fake smiles and laughs when he conversed with Y/n, trying to act like he’s the most nicest person ever to meet.

Peter wasn’t the only one who saw through flash’s lies so did Y/n. He could see a liar from across the room and knew how they acted. He spent enough time working in his dads company to sniff out liars and had gotten very good at it.

It was the week that Y/n was suppose to work with his father on a new invention, testing them out and figuring out if they have potential to be sold to the public, but recently Y/n had joined a club with Peter and took place after school hours. He’d shoot his father a quick text that he wasn’t going to the lab and quickly rushed off to join the club in hopes of spending more time with Peter and their other members.

When entering the room he finds MJ and the other students sitting on a round table, discussing about their new plans for the club. His eyes search the room and doesn’t find Peter which makes him frown a little before sitting next to MJ. “Where’s Pete?” He whispers to her and noticed how her lips twitched into a smirk.

“Miss your little boyfriend already? Don’t you guys have all periods together?”

MJ had figured Peter and Y/n out in less than seconds when they first met resulting in Y/n befriending her. He rolls his eyes at her comment. “We aren’t always in class together…he has biology eighth period and I have history.” He mumbled out the last part knowing that he wasn’t really providing much and that he and Peter did in fact have majority of classes together.

“You guys are gross.” MJ comments with a grin on her face. “You two are perfect for each other.”

Y/n had dealt with MJ’s teasing for a long time that he’s grown used to it. He gives her a small nudge to the shoulder and focused back to the other who were still planing out this years activities within the club, writing things down and getting the teachers opinion. It went on for ten minutes at Y/n was the first to realize that Peter still hadn’t arrived which slowly started to worry Y/n. His instincts were telling him to go look for him.

“I’m going to the bathroom be back in a bit!” He tells the others with a smile before rushing out of the room and down the hall. Whenever Peter came late to the club he always told him before hand, either letting him know that its a spider thing or perhaps his aunt needed him he was always made aware until now.

He didn’t get anything from Peter and started to get worried as he searched the hallways. They were packed a few minutes ago with students getting ready to head home and now the halls were half empty with a few students lingering around and either attending their own club's or waiting on a ride or friend.

As he rounds the corner he noticed a small crowd of students up ahead, raising a brow as he decides to make his way over. It doesn’t take him long to recognize that familiar beat up backpack that Peter always carried. He’s told Peter many times that he could get him a new one since the one he had was already tearing up, but Peter always declined his offer since he wanted to be the one to earn it and claimed that his bag was still in ‘perfect’ condition and survivable.

The sound of someone colliding into the lockers makes him walk faster to the point where he’s jogging over and finding Peter with a pained look on his face. “Trying to win yourself another internship, Parker? One wasn’t enough?” The sound of Flashes voice gets Y/n’s attention.

Noticing the state that Peters in makes him frown.

“You’re always following Y/n around like a puppy, I bet he’s finding you annoying by now. He should hang around someone who isn’t boring.” Said Flash while Peter glared up at him and tried to get back up without being kicked down by one of his little goons again, before Flash could saying anything else a fist connects with his check, startling everyone when he stumbled back in shock.

“Hey—What the hell!?”

Flash had a hand against his bruised up cheek and turns to see who was responsible only to freeze in place when his eyes land on Y/n who was huffing angrily at him. He’s standing in front of Peter in a protective way while glaring at Flash. “Touch my boyfriend again and I’ll make sure to break your nose this time.” He speaks up.

His words catch everyone by surprise, but was surprises everyone is the fact that Y/n and dating Peter.

“Boyfriend?!”

Y/n smirks at Flashes shock. “Yeah and I love his annoying ass.” He points over his shoulder to where Peter is getting back up and blushing deeply by his words, wanting to roll his eyes. Once Y/n finishes his threats and Flash and his little goons run off he’s quick to turn around and face Peter. His angry expression quickly fading into one of worry as he approached Peter and quickly checks him. “Are you hurt anywhere did you break anything? I swear to god if he did I am going to fu—“

“I’m okay, I’m okay.” Peter is quick to cut in, chuckling a little before placing his hand on Y/n’s wrist and pulling his hands away form him, reassuring him that he’s fine. “Did you forget? I can heal pretty quick.” His words cause Y/n to pinch his shoulder. “You idiot! I don’t care if you can heal I was worried for you, why didn’t you tell me this was happening?”

“Because I can handle my own battles.” Peter mumbled in response which didn’t make Y/n any happier. “That doesn’t mean that you have to do them alone,. I mean what if something happened to you? Who was going to know or help?” He continued to rant out to Peter, pouring out his own feelings and frustrations towards Peter being a stubborn person.

Once he’s ranted and calmed down he placed his hands on Peters shoulders. “Please, tell me when something like this happens again. I won’t hesitate to punch Flash again.”

Peter slowly smiles and laughs. “Can’t believe you punched Flash, I always wanted to do that but never had the guts too. I was afraid that my strength would probably kill him.”

“Yeah, well it felt great doing it he was a pain in my ass.” Peter laughs at his boyfriends words. It was satisfying to see Flash getting punched and the look of surprise when he found out that they were dating each other.

Peter looks up to Y/n. “Flash knows about us and knowing him he’s gonna tell the entire school.” He was growing nervous at the idea of everyone knowing that he’s dating Starks kid only for Y/n to pull Peter into a quick kiss and smiling at him. “Let him tell everyone at least I can kiss you whenever I want without hiding it.” Peter admired Y/n for being so calm during situations like these.

“Think we should get to our club meeting?” Said Peter.

Y/n smiles with a nod. “Yeah, come on you were missing out on the fun plans we were making.” He takes Peters hand into his own and heads down the hall feeling better now that he’s able to hold Peters hand without needing to keep their relationship a secret anymore.

#Male reader #Peter Parker x male reader #stark reader #Tony stark #superfamily fic #tom!peter parker x reader #Tom!Peter Parker x male reader #Spider-Man x male reader #Spider-Man x reader #marvel x male reader #marvel #irondad

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