#normal but im picturing it getting in a car and screaming while violently speeding down the road

[phantomrose96]

I like that "crash out" and "lock in" have become part of the vernacular. They feel like siblings. To me.

[eatgraypes]

Let’s Go Home

Character/Person : Tony Stark

Pairing : Dad Figure!Anthony x Reader

Time : Modern

Reader’s Gender : Female

Side Note : Domestic Violence Hotline, IM SO SORRY I DIDN’T DO JUSTICE TO YOUR REQUEST

Warnings : abuse, tony is sorta like obsessed with taking care of reader but its kinda cute, this was messily written as i was contemplating my entire existence 

Possibility Of Having Another Part : chances are low

Genre : sorta angst sorta fluff

Request : Can you write one where the reader is like 18-20 yrs old and works as an assistant for the avengers? She lives at home but her father is verbally abusive and sometimes physical. So she spends the night once in a while in her car. Tony suspects something isn’t right so he follows her home in his suit and witnesses her dad hitting her. He decides right there to move her in with the team. He calls her kitten and treats her like his own.

Word Count : 2664

Summary : Y/N was an assistant for the Avengers. An assistant that Tony loved dearly, treating her as his own daughter. He even packs her lunch. But, when Y/N realizes she’s been out way longer than her father would allow, she freaks and rushes home, only to get beaten by her father and rescued by Tony Stark and she, for the first time, accepts his affections, dearly needing them more than ever.

Tony Stark treated Y/N like she was his own. And he made sure everyone in the building knew that. From constantly nagging her to do more training, or packing her lunch despite everyone’s confused stares and snickers, Tony didn’t feel the need to sleep with the woman as he did with others. He felt the need to care for her in a platonic sense.

“Sir, I can just go buy something from the shop across the street,” you took a break from typing to glance up at a beaming and worn Tony Stark, otherwise known as Iron-Man.

“Nonsense. I already packed you lunch for the next three days.”

With that, he dropped a white bag onto your desk and ushered towards the training room. You kept your eyes steadied on him the entire time, a confused and concerned gaze you learned to keep whenever Tony was around.

Could anyone blame you for being just a tad bit perplexed?

Tony went from small gestures such as giving you a hug or wishing you luck that your legs wouldn’t end up sore from having to follow the Avengers around all day and take orders. He’d even end up booking you a massage to relax after you’d spend a day of having to run after everybody. 

Some might say getting this sort of treatment from Tony Stark was a luxury, especially since you weren’t actually an avenger but just a mere assistant. But, God, this was a nightmare that you couldn’t bring yourself to push away.

“I hope you like eggs, Y/N, ‘cause it’s the only thing he packed.”

The sudden voice startled you, slightly jumping out of your seat you whirled around to see Wanda standing just above your desk, in the same spot where Tony had just stood. Her face was slightly hidden as she peeked into the bag that Stark dropped off, coming into sight with nothing but egg-based meals.

You groaned as she sent an apologetic smile, “some of these don’t look that bad. Look, egg salad, egg sandwich, scrambled eggs,” as she continued to list the many meals that Tony had packed for you, you ran a hand through your hair and returned to typing away at your computer, occasionally pausing to jot down notes and the schedules of the Avengers.

“Miss Y/L/N, you’re needed on the third floor in Bucky’s room,” a voice had cut through Wanda’s sentence and you softly smiled, excused yourself, and pushed yourself up from your seat.

“Sorry, Wanda, I gotta go.”

She nodded and laid the bag of food down onto your desk, making sure to tie the ends of it so no bugs - though, she was sure since this was the Stark Tower that there wouldn’t even be bugs present in the first place - would get in. With that, you and Wanda went your separate ways.

It took a white, trotting down the hallway in your heels, though Tony kindly advised you to wear sneakers, and into the elevator to go see what exactly Bucky needed. You waved and whispered polite ‘hello’s’ to people who passed by, even going as far as to have a rather decent conversation with Bruce. You could tell how hard he was trying to be friendly and casual but at the same time polite by his furrowing eyebrows and fidgeting stance. You also knew fully well that Tony had told everyone to talk to you as one of them, not a coworker, but a friend. Hell, you were in the room, being pulled by his shoulder over yours when he told everyone.

“You called for me?” You knocked slightly on Bucky’s door, almost immediately being met with his face when he swung the door open. He forced a pained smile and glanced down at his own metal arm, watching as it lay limp against his side. Eyebrows shot up, you carefully took it into your own small hands.

“What happened?”

You led him out of his room and down the hall, determined to get him to Tony or Bruce quick enough so he’d be able to train or do combat again normally.

“Well, I uh,” he rubbed at the nape of his neck, smiling sheepishly when you turned to show your concern.

“Steve and I made a bet to see who could destroy the most punching bags in five minutes.”

You scoffed, but quickly covered your mouth with your free hand, not meaning to sound impolite.

“Sorry,”

“it’s okay, it was our faults anyways.”

Tony, yes him again, had also warned everyone that you were incredibly shy and since he wanted you to enjoy working at the tower and be completely comfortable he had informed everyone to not explode in your face just as they did with everyone else.

It took a while, but you dropped off Bucky at Tony’s lab as he ushered you to leave and spend your time on someone better. Waving him off and beaming, you stayed just a bit, waiting until Bucky’s arm was at least halfway through working again as you encouraged Tony and constantly assured Bucky his arm was going to be better than ever, eventually you had to leave Bucky’s side when Natasha rang you up and called you to meet her on her way down towards the first floor where your desk was.

Quickly composing yourself from getting a little startled at F.R.I.D.A.Y.S voice, you silently thanked it and rushed downstairs. Budging through many people walking through the halls and ducking under Thor, who swung his hammer violently, you made a beeline towards the redhead you loved to see.

“Hey, Nat,” you said, out of breath.

She whipped around, her brightly colored hair scratching against her pale face and whirring in the air for a split second until she stilled to look at you. A grin immediately replacing the stilled expression she once had.

“Hey, Y/N. Sharon and I were going out for a few drinks, want to tag along? It could be like a girls night out.”

You parted your lips, contemplating if you should go or not. You needed a break, but you weren’t sure if you deserved it. At seeing you battling yourself, Natasha took your hands and caressed them with her own, rubbing circles on the back of your hands soothingly. You exhaled.

Maybe you could use a break.

You chuckled at Natasha’s raised eyebrow as she anticipated your answer. You nodded and gently smiled.

Her grin became even wider, leaning in to whisper into your ear, you leaned in too, “good. Because there’s a special for ladies at 12.”

Your eyes shot open and you could feel your heart skip a bit. Your bottom lip was sucked in between your teeth and quickly, you fished in your pockets to retrieve your phone that was long lost in the deep caved holes of your pants.

Upon feeling the cold metal against your fingers, you pulled it out of your pocket and pressed the home button. A picture of you sitting sprawled against the grass with a bunch of hand-picked flowers bundled up in between your thin fingers came on display. Right above the picture was the time.

1:36 A.M.

You pushed your phone back into your pocket and scurried over to your desk, reaching over it to retrieve your purse that was seated in your chair. From the sudden harsh movement as you tugged at the handle of your purse, you unknowingly knocked over the bag of food that Tony had dropped off for you, causing it to spill all over the floor. Natasha watched you run around your desk to grab a few things, almost tripping on your own feet as you sprinted out the building, bid your farewells to Natasha and F.R.I.D.A.Y and into your car.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You wanted to cry already thinking about what would happen to you by the time you got home at such a late hour. Sure, you were nineteen, but you didn’t live alone and you certainly didn’t live at the Avengers tower as everyone else did. Despite how well the Avengers treated you, you were still an assistant, so you couldn’t really be offered a room there unless it was really needed.

You just didn’t know how to bring up the fact that you weren’t exactly being treated properly back at home.

You winced at the thoughts of your father throwing insults at you and screaming into your face until your jaw shook and your legs gave out on you. Though it wasn’t the verbal abuse that made you want to leave the house and into the police station or back into the Avengers building, pleading for help. No, it was the physical abuse. It was rare your father would physically hurt you. Only doing it when he felt particularly angry or when he drank too much. You shuddered.

Your phone rang beside you on the passenger seat, most likely having fallen out of your purse when you hurriedly threw it into the seat to start up your car and speed home. Subconsciously, you gripped the steering wheel harder in fear that it was your father giving you a harsh warning of what was to come when you arrived. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted an I.D picture that was no where near close to your fathers. Curious, you quickly glanced down at the phone that vibrated and rung loudly.

Mr. Stark

You let out a sigh of relief, still confused as to why he was calling you at a time like this, but picked up the call anyways as it seemed to ring on forever, as if Tony wasn’t going to give up on calling you until you picked up.

“Mr. Stark?”

“Y/N,” his voice was stern and it faintly reminded you of the way your father would say your name before raising one of his hands to strike you. You swallowed a lump in your throat, trying to hide how shaky you were.

“Yes?”

“Natasha told me you left in a hurry, almost as if you were scared. Are you okay?” His tone quickly changed to a more concerned one. You didn’t know how desperately you wanted to hug him and cry until now.

“Oh, fine.” You sharply inhaled, hoping that Tony didn’t hear the way your voice quivered.

“Y/N. I came by your desk and found the food I made spilled all over the floor. Nat said your eyes were practically bulging out of your head when you checked your phone.”

You cursed under your breath, murmured your apologies to your boss, and hung up, tossing your phone back to the passenger side before accelerating faster towards your house, ignoring all of Tony’s calls the entire ride.

By the time you parked, you were already crying. You’ve gone through this so many times you should’ve been able to take one more hit, but you didn’t. You didn’t suck it up and at least try to fight back. You always just sat there and let the hot tears damp your rosy cheeks as you absorbed his hits and felt smaller and smaller by every blow, becoming the shy, quiet, forcibly happy woman you are now.

You turned the key, pushing the door open, being met with the sound of a static T.V and a beeping microwave.

“Father?” You bit your tongue.

You peeked inside the kitchen and quietly strolled in, shutting the door to the microwave so it would stop making the obnoxious beeping noise. You anxiously turned your head, expecting your father to be standing right behind you with his hands curled into fists. But he wasn’t. Your fear grew by the second as you sneakily made your way over to your room to take a quick peek. He wasn’t in there either. You let out a sigh of relief, pushing your arms out of your blazer.

“Y/N.”

The voice made the tears that you were holding silently fall out of your eyes. You rubbed at them, making sure to get rid of them before your father saw and punished you even more.

“Y-Yes?” You heart sped.

“Come here,” your throat clenched.

Your feet automatically shuffled it’s way over to the living room, immediately betraying you.

Before you could full comprehend it, you were standing in front of your father, heels pressing against each other and arms crossed in a pity attempt of shielding yourself before he could really do anything.

“Come, sit by me.” His voice was a bit softer, scaring you even more.

Deciding not to be hesitant in fear that you’d anger him and bring this on yourself, you seated yourself on his left side and kicked at the carpet below, keeping your eyes trained on your feet right underneath you.

The T.V. buzzed right in front of you, waiting to be switched to another channel and used properly. Your father, who had noticed your fidgeting, chuckled deeply.

You snapped your eyes up to meet his, eyebrows furrowed in a way to show your clear confusion.

He sent a smile at you, and shocked, you couldn’t help but smile back, a bad habit of yours. Before you could say anything to further deepen the moment, your father lifted a hand and struck you against the cheek. You stumbled back and hit your spine against the armrest of the couch, already feeling a forming bruise.

“Wha-?”

“Stupid fucking bitch, you can’t expect me to love you again. You crossed the line. What were you doing out there late?” As he yelled into your face, drawing his hand back again, you pressed a hand against your swollen cheek and crawled backwards, accidentally slipping off the couch and onto the hardwood floor.

“No, please.” You pleaded, tears stinging your eyes.

Your father remained silent, already having lifting his leg to stomp down on you. You groaned at the impact and cried harder, face buried into the floor and your arms protecting your face as he beat into your side. 

“Stupid,” you felt your rib give up on you, cracking.

“Fucking,” he spat on you, continuing to throw blow after blow at your face. You felt yourself slip from consciousness.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to step away from Miss Y/L/N.”

You no longer felt anything hitting you, but continued to hide your face in your hands, curling yourself into a ball and shivering as the cold air hit your torn shirt.

It was a while. You heard arguing, but it was seemingly white noise to you as you thought about everything in your life. You thought back on everything, starting to feel the pain catch up on you.

“Kitten,” a pair of arms wrapped around you. You were quick to push them away and wiggle back into the wall. 

“No, Y/N,” the voice continued, but you cried harder, keeping your eyes shut. You kicked and shoved as the body grew closer to you, trying to get you into their arms and safety.

“Y/N. It’s Tony,” you proceeded to shove and kick until you had to register the name the voice mentioned. Your eyes fluttered open and your prayers were answered when your vision focused on a man with a goatee and tousled brown hair.

You opened your lips to say something, a ‘thank you’ at least. a ‘why’, but unable to find your voice, you threw your arms around Tony and cried into his suited shoulder. He patted you and whispered his ‘sorry’s’ into your hair. 

He hesitated, picking you up and stepping out the door, walking right past your beaten father who laid limp on the floor. The floor you once laid limp on.

All you could hear by the time he made it out of the building was approaching police sirens, whirring wind, your own quiet whimpers, and Tony’s soothing voice. He pushed a strand of hair out of your face and hugged you tightly, his own tears staining his face.

“Let’s go home.”