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I just love how in Terms and Conditions they're like "oh haha our fake marriage! it's just a business deal!" while everyone in 100 km radius is like "oh they're like in love in love"
Yep hence the whole arranged marriage trope!! Glad you liked it âš
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âLike two idiots who havenât figured out that theyâre not faking it anymore.â
No one could've said it better!
Trust Happy to say the right things and give someone just the right push!!!
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I cannot believe Pepper interrupted their almost-kiss, oh my god I can't I can't I CAN'T JFC NO
She did.
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the banter, the soft moments, the jealousy... they ain't fooling anyone!!!!! they're so obvious, I love them
đ€
Thank you for reading.
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no but like I just read the "Tony" and immediately thought "it's Pepper. it's fucking Pepper" and then I kept reading and damn right it was fucking Pepper AAAAAARRRRGHHHHHHH I HATE HER SM WHYDID SHE HAVE TO INTERRUPT THEMMMMMM RIGHT THEEEERRRRREEEEE I'M GONNA CRY
Hahhaha Iâm really just taking out my frustration for the character through these stories đ
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from "I'm fine" to resting his head on his fake-wife's shoulder and letting her help him fall back asleep... who does this man think he's fooling?! đ
Himself, apparently!!! But they have their date now đ€đ€
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Rhodey AND Happy showing up in the same chapter to call them out????? I feel utterly spoiled đâșïž
I had to bring in the big guns!! Glad you enjoyed it.
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Robert Downey Jr as Tony Stark
IRON MAN
#this man looked extra yum in Iron Man#marvel#tonystarkedit#avengers#iron man#robert downey jr#tony stark
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Chapter 7 - Terms and Conditions
A/N: Here we go! We are progressing đ«¶đ»
Pairing: Tony Stark x Wife! Reader
Warning: none! Slow burn.
Terms and Conditions
You werenât supposed to hear it.
The night had been still; quiet enough to hear Dum-Eâs soft paws on the floor behind you as you carried a mug of tea back to your room. But then you heard it: a low sound, barely there, threading out from the slightly ajar door to Tonyâs bedroom.
A whimper.
You hesitated for a moment. You werenât supposed to cross that line, this whole arrangement had been carefully, coldly outlined. Separate rooms. Separate lives. But that soundâit cut right through all of it.
The door creaked slightly as you pushed it open. The hallway light fell across the bed in fractured shadows, and there he wasâtangled in the sheets, chest rising and falling in uneven, panicked gasps. A soft, strangled noise caught in his throat. His fists clenched.
âTony,â you said quietly, stepping closer. âYouâre having a nightmare.â
Another whimper. His head jerked to the side like he was trying to escape something you couldnât see. You set the mug down without thinking and moved to the edge of the bed.
âTony, wake up.â
You reached out, hand hovering over his shoulder before gently pressing down. His skin was clammy, muscles tense beneath your touch. When you said his name againâsofter this timeâhis eyes flew open.
Panic. Disorientation. Then something almost worse, shame.
âIâm fine,â he rasped, voice rough like gravel.
âYouâre shaking,â you replied gently, not letting go.
He didnât look at you. Just turned his face away and scrubbed a hand over it, trying to steady himself. âItâs just a dream.â
âStill real enough to leave you gasping.â
That made him pause.
You shifted, moving around to face him. You didnât push, just sat there, watching him carefully, offering your presence like a peace offering. When you reached for his hand againâslowly, giving him the chance to pull awayâhe didnât.
âYou donât have to explain,â you said. âBut you also donât have to go through it alone.â
Tony didnât say anything. He looked down at your hands, at the way his fit against yours like it was unfamiliar. Eventually, his head dropped forward, resting against your shoulder with a barely-there sigh.
You wrapped your arm around him without a word, feeling the tension bleed out of his body piece by piece. His breathing slowed. The arc reactor dimmed back to a quiet glow. He didnât say thank you, but he didnât have to.
You sat there with him until he fell back asleepâthis time, steadier. And you stayed until you were sure he was okay.
.
The next morning, your office buzzed with a kind of chaos you were learning to expect.
Post-marriage attention had done wonders for your company, even if you hadnât asked for any of it. Your assistant rattled off metrics: website traffic skyrocketing, stockholders suddenly interested again, tech blogs frothing at the mouth with theories.
You took it all in stride, answering questions, redirecting spin, and crafting responses that toed the line between âno commentâ and âweâll circle back.â
In the middle of reviewing a proposal, your phone buzzed.
Tony Stark [10:03 AM]:
Didnât mean to keep you up last night. ButâŠthanks.
Also, your tea smells like wet leaves. Upgrading your taste buds ASAP.
You smirked despite yourself.
You [10:04 AM]:
Youâre welcome. And hands off my tea. Itâs calming. Unlike you.
A pause.
Tony Stark [10:06 AM]:
Bossy. I like it.
Donât let the corporate vampires drain you today.
You pocketed the phone with a smile that no one saw, and returned to work.
Last night wasnât something you planned on. But it happened. And you didnât regret it.
Something had changed.
And for once, it didnât scare you.
.
Back home you were in the living room, sipping your now-infamous wet leaf tea and scrolling through a project brief, when the elevator door pinged open and a familiar voice echoed through the penthouse.
âPermission to enter the lair of egos and espresso machines?â Rhodey called out.
You looked up, surprised. âRhodey?â
âIn the slightly underappreciated flesh.â He strolled in with a box in his arms and that grin that always promised at least mild embarrassment for Tony.
Tony hadnât mentioned he was visiting. Not that he mentioned much lately. You walked over, eyeing the box as Rhodey set it on the coffee table like it might explode.
âStark Seniorâs estate finally coughed up some storage junk from Malibu. Figured this one needed personal delivery.â
You arched a brow. âWhatâs in it?â
âJust a little gift from the ghosts of Tonyâs past. Youâre gonna love it.â
That was warning enough.
You opened the box carefully, old notebooks, a few scattered gadgets, and right on top⊠a photo album. Chunky. Plastic-covered.
You opened itâand instantly snorted. There, in glorious vintage color, was toddler Tony Stark, entirely nude but with a bucket on his head, covered in mud, and mid-sprint across what looked like the backyard of an expensive estate. Possibly being chased by a very tired butler.
FRIDAYâs voice piped in with impeccable timing. âBoss, your wife has just located the âStark: Ages 0 to 5, Unfilteredâ album. Currently open to Page 3. Initiate panic?â
From somewhere deeper in the penthouse: âFRIDAY, donât you dareââ
Then came the footsteps.
Tony Stark burst into the living room in full crisis modeâhoodie half-zipped, barefoot, wild-eyed. âPut that down.â
You held it up like it was a court exhibit. âYou never told me you were a bucket kid.â
âI had creativity,â he snapped, lunging for it. You dodged him easily, holding the album behind your back.
âRhodey!â he shouted. âYou were supposed to destroy this!â
Rhodey flopped onto the couch, looking entirely too pleased. âAnd miss this show? Not a chance. This albumâs gold.â
You flipped another page. âTony. Is that you in a diaper⊠with a red cape⊠standing on a table?â
Tony groaned. âThis is slander. I was a visionary.â
âVisionary with diaper rash,â Rhodey added, already filming on his phone.
Tony turned to you, half-whispering through clenched teeth. âPlay it cool, please. He thinks this whole arrangement is real. If he sees you laughing too hard, heâs gonna start asking questions.â
You smirked. âRelax. Weâre the picture of domestic bliss.â
âNo kissing though,â Tony added quickly. âWeâre not that method.â
You rolled your eyes. âTrust me, Iâm a very committed non-kisser.â
He narrowed his eyes. âThat sounded like an insult.â
âBecause it was.â
Tony had just snatched the album from your hands, holding it at armâs length like it might combust if you turned another page, when FRIDAY chimed in againâcasual, almost smug.
âOh, and would you like me to play the audio file that accompanied the album, Boss? Itâs labeled âTonyâs First Solo: Twinkle Twinkle But With Dramatic Flourishes.ââ
You choked on a laugh. âI need to hear that.â
âYou donât need to hear that,â Tony barked.
Rhodey, nearly doubled over on the couch, waved a hand. âOh, come on, play it. I havenât heard that since MITâhe used to do this voiceââ
âNo, no, FRIDAY, override!â Tony yelped.
Too late.
A crackling recording began to play through the speakers. A younger, high-pitched Tony Stark filled the room:
âTwinkle⊠TWINKLE⊠little staaaaaar⊠how I⊠WONDER⊠what you⊠AAAREââ
âwith dramatic pauses, vibrato, and what sounded like someone clanging pots together for backup percussion.
You covered your mouth, trying to be respectful of the absolute humiliation happening in real time. But Rhodey wasnât even trying.
âI canâtâhe added a bridge. He added a jazz bridge,â Rhodey wheezed.
Tony dropped onto the armrest of the couch, album still clutched to his chest like a wounded soldier. âIâm surrounded by traitors. Literal betrayal by artificial intelligence. This is how Skynet starts.â
You offered him a deadpan look. âThis might actually be worse than Skynet.â
He looked at you, eyes narrowed, like he was mentally calculating your weakness for citrus desserts and plotting vengeance accordingly.
Rhodey finally sat up, wiping tears from his eyes. âMan, you really married a brave woman. Sheâs got access to all of this and still stuck around.â
You gave Rhodey a diplomatic smile. âLetâs just say⊠the entertainment value is extremely high.â
Tony groaned. âThis is my villain origin story.â
FRIDAY chimed in again. âNoted, Boss. Compiling footage for future documentary: âThe Rise and Fall of Anthony Stark: From Bucket to Billionaire.ââ
.
The recording finally died down, leaving Tony looking emotionally winded, Rhodey still grinning like a man whoâd just won five separate bets, and youâtrying not to look too charmed by the sheer chaos of it all.
Tony shoved the album back in the box and kicked it gently under the coffee table like it might crawl out.
Rhodey leaned back, arms folded, watching you both with a thoughtful expression that made your spine straighten instinctively.
âYou knowâŠâ he said slowly, and Tony immediately stiffened like a cat.
âI wasnât sure what to expect when I heard about the whole⊠surprise marriage thing. I thought maybe youâd lost another bet, or Stark Industries had finally bribed someone into taking you off the market.â
âWow,â Tony muttered. âTouching.â
âBut seeing you two now?â Rhodey continued, ignoring the protest. âIt just feels⊠natural. Like youâve been doing this for years. The banter, the inside jokes, the way you look at each other when the otherâs not paying attentionâyeah. Itâs solid. Real.â
You swallowed. That word hit a bit harder than expected.
Rhodey smiled at you, warmer now. âIâm just glad. You know? Iâve seen Tony go through a lot of⊠well, letâs call them spectacularly bad decisions, but this? You? You look good together. Happy. Finally.â
Tony didnât say anything. Just sat there staring at a fixed spot on the wall.
You gave Rhodey a tight smile, forcing it to hold despite the sudden, lead-heavy weight of guilt settling in your chest. Because it wasnât realânot entirely. Not yet. What he saw as genuine was built on a contract, on mutual benefit and corporate mergers, not on love or impulse or fate.
But the worst part?
You wished it was real. Just for a moment.
You glanced sideways, expecting Tony to jump in with a sarcastic deflection, a sharp jab, anything. But he was still quiet.
Rhodey got up to grab a bottle of water from the bar. âSeriously, man. Happy for you. For both of you.â
Tony muttered a quiet, âThanks, pal,â but you could hear the hesitation under it.
You sat there for a beat longer, eyes locked with Tonyâs across the space between you. And for once, there was no smirk, no armor, no quip.
Just the both of you, pretending not to flinch under the weight of a truth you couldnât admit yet.
.
The Emerald Future Gala was held in a glass-domed venue nestled on the edge of the Hudson, the kind of place where billionaires sipped expensive champagne and made promises theyâd pay other people to keep. You arrived solo, greeted with flashes of cameras and murmurs about your surprise marriage still rippling through high society like scandal-shaped confetti.
You were dazzling in green silkâa not-so-subtle nod to the eco-conscious theme and you knew you looked good. Powerful. Untouchable. Except you werenât. Not really.
Tony showed up forty minutes late, because of course he did, and made a statement just by existing. He walked in like the room owed him rent, in a black-on-black suit and that signature Stark smirkâcool, collected, impossible to ignore.
And for a while, you kept your distance. Polished conversations, air kisses, champagne. You were CEO first, wife second. If anyone asked, you played the part. But the air shifted when you caught him laughing with a model-turned-tech-philanthropist whose hand lingered too long on his arm.
You didnât even look jealous. But you did laugh a little louder with the French investor whoâd been circling since cocktails. You leaned in, smiled, touched his arm with the kind of casual grace that said, I know exactly whoâs watching me.
And of course, Tony noticed.
.
You met him near the balcony when the air got too tight, when too many eyes and too many unspoken things pushed you out into the night. The city sparkled below like it had secrets too.
âYou having fun?â Tony asked, voice deceptively light. âHe seemed very into your business model.â
You crossed your arms. âHeâs funding climate tech, not flirting.â
âSure,â he said. âAnd I came with her because I value her insights on offshore wind farms.â
Your eyes narrowed. âDonât do that.â
âDo what?â
âDeflect. Pick a fight because you saw someone else treat me like Iâm not just your boardroom bargaining chip.â
Tony stepped closer. âIâm not deflecting.â
You folded your arms, unwilling to give him ground. âThen what are you doing?â
He looked at you, long and hardâeyes darker now, less shielded. âTrying really hard not to say something I canât take back.â
That made your breath hitch. Just slightly.
âI donât care about anyone else,â he added, voice low and honest in a way you werenât ready for. âBut watching you tonight⊠I realized Iâm starting to care way too much about what you think of me.â
You blinked, the weight of it sinking in.
Neither of you moved. Not really. But gravity shifted. Space folded. His hand brushed against yours, barely there.
Tonyâs eyes locked onto yours, and the air between you was chargedâno, cracklingâwith something unspoken, volatile, and very, very real. Neither of you moved, but the distance was shrinking anyway. He looked at you like the rest of the world didnât matterâjust you, this balcony, and whatever the hell had been building between you from the moment you said âI doâ in that cold, perfect boardroom.
You could feel his breath now. Just inches away.
And for a secondâjust a split secondâyou let yourself believe it was going to happen. That this charade was about to blur into something too real to fake. His expression softening, walls crackingâ
âTony.â
The voice sliced through the moment like glass.
You flinched back, your spine straightening with practiced grace.
Tonyâs jaw tightened before he turned. âPepper.â
She stood at the doorway, tablet in hand, the sharp click of her heels matching the precision of her timing. Her gaze bounced from him to you and back again, professional and utterly unreadable.
âWe need you inside. Thereâs a press inquiry about the new energy initiative and the CFOâs trying to field it, but theyâre asking for a quote.â
Tony didnât respond at first. Just exhaled, slow and disappointed, like the moment had been a dream he was now waking from.
He looked back at you. Not a word. Not a smile. But the look said everything.
You stepped aside before he could say anything else.
âOf course,â he muttered, running a hand through his hair. âCanât keep the press waiting.â
And just like that, he was gone.
You stared after him for a second too long, heart still thudding, something bitter blooming beneath your ribs. Another moment lost. Another truth shoved back down where it couldnât hurt anyone.
.
The Morning After
You didnât sleep well.
Scratch thatâyou didnât sleep at all. You spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, replaying that moment on the balcony like your brain was stuck on a scratched record. The way his voice had dipped. The way heâd looked at you like he meant something. The way youâd leaned in, heart on the edge of something dangerous.
And then Pepper.
You groaned into your pillow.
By the time you dragged yourself into your home office, hair twisted up and caffeine levels barely legal, you were determined to act like nothing had happened. Business. As. Usual.
Your team didnât need to know that your fake husband almost kissed you. They just needed updates on Q1 projections and stock market rebounds now that Stark Industries and your company had merged marital forces like it was some sort of power couple spinoff.
Your CFO was already waiting on Zoom. âSince the press got wind of your marriage,â he said, âour shares have bumped 6%. Investors are calling you both a modern power duo.â
You forced a smile. âFantastic. Now all we need is matching capes.â
Your phone buzzed.
Tony Stark: Did you sleep?
You stared at the message for a long second.
Short. Simple. But heavy in all the right places.
You didnât reply.
Not because you didnât want toïżœïżœïżœbut because you didnât know how.
A while later, the door to your office creaked open.
âHey, sunshine.â
You nearly jumped out of your skin.
âHappy?â you blinked. âWhatâwhy are you here?â
He strolled in holding two cups of coffee and wearing that casual, unbothered look that made you suspect he knew exactly what kind of night youâd had.
âTony sent me,â he said, handing you a cup. âSaid to check if you were still mad at him.â
You squinted. âI never said I was mad.â
âMhm.â Happy took a sip of his own coffee. âHe also said if you threw anything at me, I should dodge and remind you he asked about you this morning. Twice.â
You rolled your eyes, tryingâand failingâto hide the tiny smile curling at the corner of your mouth. âWell, I didnât throw anything, so weâre off to a good start.â
Happy settled into the chair across from your desk. âLook, I donât pretend to understand whatâs going on with you two. But whatever it is? Youâre both starting to act less like business partners and more likeââ
He trailed off, eyeing you meaningfully.
âMore like what?â
âLike two idiots who havenât figured out that theyâre not faking it anymore.â
You opened your mouth. Closed it. Thought about Tonyâs text.
And decided to say nothing at all. Not yet.
.
You were mid-emailâsomething about projected quarterly growth and a painfully dull pie chartâwhen the knock came. Not a timid knock, either. Confident. Almost smug.
You glanced at the door. âHappy, if thatâs you again with more matchmaking wisdom, I swearââ
The door creaked open.
âNot Happy,â came a familiar voice. âBut I come bearing gifts.â
You blinked.
Tony Stark stood in your office doorway holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. The kind no one ever remembered, delicate, citrusy blooms with petals like watercolor, the kind that only grew in a very specific European climate and cost an ungodly amount to import. So naturally, he had them in hand like heâd just swung by the farmerâs market instead of clearly arranging this with international precision.
ââŠWhat are you doing here?â you asked, rising slowly.
âWell, I was in the neighborhood,â he said with that lazy smirk.
You crossed your arms. âWe live in the same house.â
He nodded, stepping in and placing the bouquet gently on your desk. âExactly. Thought Iâd take the scenic route.â
You stared at the flowers, heart annoyingly softening even though your brain was still in a wary mode.
âTheyâre beautiful,â you muttered.
He gave a small, hopeful shrug. âYou didnât answer my text. I figured showing up in person might give me a fighting chance.â
You raised a brow. âA fighting chance at what?â
Tony rubbed the back of his neck, awkward for maybe the second time since youâd met him. âOkay, so⊠this thing. Us. Whatever it is. Itâs starting to feel less like PR and more likeâŠâ
He trailed off.
You tilted your head. âMore like?â
âMore like something Iâd really regret screwing up,â he admitted. âSo I thought maybe I could fix it. With flowers. And⊠an offer.â
You narrowed your eyes. âWhat kind of offer?â
He shoved his hands into his pockets, suddenly boyish. âA date. A real one. Not staged. No press. No shareholders. Just us. You pick the place. Iâll even wear something that isnât designer ego.â
You blinked at him.
He wasnât being charming for once. Or, well, he was, but not in that âwatch me light up a press roomâ way. This was quieter. Earnest. A man standing in front of his maybe-wife, hoping sheâd say yes.
After a long beat, you answered, voice barely above a whisper.
âOkay.â
Tony looked surprised. âOkay?â
You smiled, finally letting yourself feel the warm flutters bubbling up. âYeah. Okay.â
#tony stark x reader#tony stark fanfiction#tony stark imagine#tony stark fluff#arranged marriage au#the stark squad#marvel fanfiction#tony stark#mostly marvel musings#iron man#rhodey
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Iron Man 2 (2010) Dir. Jon Favreau
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I felt so called out reading the latest chapter of Surviving the Starks because, as someone who studies Foreign Affairs, I, too, get hot and bothered about international trade, so I get it, Howard. I get it.
Oooh you study Foreign Affairs? How cool!
Haha I like that you related to Howard đđ€
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tony being conceived on a night that basically involved howard being a nerd, maria looking stunning, alcohol and good music actually explains SO MUCH
Hahaha, doesnât it?
Glad you liked it đ«
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âYou were made with wine, jazz, and love, Tony. No wonder youâre such a masterpiece.â
Fuck! This is so accurate đ«
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The Architecture of Almost

Genre: Romance | Drama | Mutant + Billionaire AU | Love Triangle
Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader, Tony Stark x Female Reader
Summary: You were only meant to stay a week.
A remote cottage. A pile of unfinished drafts. A chance to breathe and build something meaningful for the world, not your heart.
Then he showed up.
Bleeding, broken, and silent, Logan landed on your porch like a storm with claws. You couldâve called someone. You didnât. You stitched him back together, sketched by lamplight, and somewhere between stolen glances and soft silences, you let yourself feel something real.
And just when it began to mean everything, he was gone.
Years later, youâve built a name, a future, and cities that breathe with the earth. Youâve kept moving forward. Until Tony Stark steps into your worldâbrilliant, relentless, and unexpectedly kind. He speaks your language, sees the fire youâve hidden. And most importantlyâŠhe stays.
But fate has a twisted sense of timing.
Logan returns. Haunted. Changed. Ready to explain the silence you never stopped hearing.
Now youâre caught between a future that promises everything and a past that still holds your heart in its calloused hands.
This is the story of almosts.
Prologue - Coming soon!!
#tony stark x you#logan howlett x you#the stark squad#iron man#wolverine#tony stark fic#logan howlett fluff#tony stark x female reader#logan howlett x fem!reader#tony stark#james logan howlett#love triangle
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genuinely hoping this love triangle turns into a throuple bc choosing between logan and tony is just impossible
I know right????
Me neither, couldnât ever choose!! How does one pick between these men?
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Please make the end with tony, not logan
Only time will tell who we end up with!!! đđ»ââïž
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I'm thinking here... Maria and Howard definitely made Tony after a romantic night with wine and love... and Maria needs to mention this to Y/N in their wine-gossip moments đââïž
Wine, Winks, and Stark Secrets
A/N: I LOVE this idea!! Hope you like it too :)
Pairing: Young!Tony Stark x Reader
Warning: none! Maria being a chaos queen.
Surviving the Starks
.
Maria topped off your glass with the grace of a practiced sommelier-slash-agent-of-mischief. The dark red swirled like velvet all expensive, decadent, and definitely strong enough to start confessions neither of you planned.
âYouâre good for him, you know,â she said casually, eyes twinkling over the rim of her glass.
You smiled, slightly shy. âTony would probably argue Iâm a walking complication.â
Maria scoffed. âSweetheart, if Tony didnât love complications, heâd have become an accountant. No, youâyouâre different. You challenge him, but you donât break him.â
You blinked. âThatâsâŠsurprisingly poetic for the fourth glass.â
Maria grinned, sipping again. âOh, honey. I invented poetic drunk. Now, speaking of Tonyââ
You braced yourself. This was the tone of a woman about to say something youâd absolutely never be able to un-hear.
âDo you know,â she began, setting her glass down with dramatic flair, âyour charming little genius boyfriend was conceived after a very romantic night. Italian wine. Rain on the windows. Frank Sinatra on the record player. My hair was phenomenal.â
You choked. âIâwhat?!â
âOh yes,â Maria said with a smirk that could slice glass. âHoward had just gotten back from some deal in Zurich. I was wearing this emerald silk robeâhe still brings it up. We danced in the kitchen, spilled a bottle of wine, and somewhere between arguing about Eisenhowerâs foreign policy and the second chorus of Fly Me to the Moon, boom. Tony.â
You stared, mouth open, brain refusing to form words. âThat isâŠmore detail than I expected.â
âDarling, if youâre going to marry into this family, you should know what youâre dealing with.â She clinked her glass against yours. âStarks donât just arrive. We storm inâusually nine months after a jazz playlist and poor life choices.â
There was a long silence, broken only by your slow, horrified laughter.
âYouâre evil,â you whispered.
Maria smiled like a cat with cream. âIâm delightful. And trust me, he gets it from me.â
At that exact moment, Tony walked in, eyes squinting suspiciously at the two of you. âWhy do I feel like Iâve just been slandered in abstentia?â
Maria stood, kissed your forehead, and breezed past him with a wink. âAsk your girlfriend about Zurich Sinatra Night, darling.â
Tony looked at you. ââŠWhat the hell is Zurich Sinatra Night?â
You took a long, long sip of wine.
âIâm going to need more Bordeaux before I answer that.â
âŠ
Howard Stark walked into the kitchen, pausing only long enough to glare at the espresso machine like it owed him money.
âWhy are you both looking at me like that?â he asked, voice rough with morning grump and existential dread.
Tony, bleary-eyed but energized by the opportunity for petty vengeance, grinned over his mug. âOh, nothing. Just reminiscing about Zurich Sinatra Night.â
Howard visibly choked on air.
Maria, seated at the breakfast bar with a mimosa and a newspaper she wasnât reading, didnât even blink. âOh, that night. Mmm. Good wine. Great acoustics.â
Howardâs eyes bulged slightly. âMaria. Why.â
âI told them the origin story,â she replied sweetly. âYou know. You, me, that very enthusiastic dance in the kitchen, and the second-best bottle of 1952 Barolo.â
Tonyâs coffee mug hit the table. âSECOND-best?!â
Howard spun on him. âWhy are you reacting like that? You werenât even born yet!â
âYeah, well, now I have to live with the knowledge that I was jazz-scored into existence while Frank Sinatra crooned and you twoâUgh, mental bleach, please.â
You, caught somewhere between a spit-take and a wheeze, covered your face.
Howard groaned. âI cannot believe you told them. That night was supposed to beâprivate.â
Maria turned a page in her newspaper. âOh, come now. They deserve to know that their genius boyfriend came into this world because I looked amazing in silk and you got emotional about international trade.â
Tony made a strangled noise. âI hate everything.â
Howard threw up his hands. âYou know what? Iâm going back to bed. Wake me up when people stop weaponizing my romantic history.â
Maria raised her mimosa. âNot likely, darling.â
Howard grumbled something about betrayal, jazz, and filing for a new family.
Tony stared at you. âDo you see what I live with?â
You leaned into his shoulder with a smile.
âYou were made with wine, jazz, and love, Tony. No wonder youâre such a masterpiece.â
#young!tony stark x reader#tony stark x reader#tony stark fanfiction#tony stark imagine#maria stark#howard stark#the stark squad#anon asks#marvel fanfiction#tony stark#tony stark fluff#mostly marvel musings
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