Pepper Stark

This was inspired by a post from @anyaharveyii thank you for the inspiration, I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you like it.

@everyonesfriend I think you might like this!

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You pace the small, dingy room you’ve called home for the past few years, the weight of eviction papers heavy in your hand. The landlord's voice echoes in your mind—“You’ve got two weeks. I can’t do this anymore.” It’s not as though you didn’t see this coming. The bills have piled up, and opportunities have been scarce. With no family to turn to and nowhere to go, you wonder how much lower things can get.

As you sit on the fraying edge of your sofa, rubbing your temples, you wonder what your next move could be. The clock ticks steadily, matching the racing thoughts in your mind. I need a miracle, you think, feeling the weight of your situation press down on you.

Meanwhile, across the city, Tony Stark is having his own personal crisis.

Tony lounges in a sleek leather chair in his office at Stark Industries, the weight of the boardroom conversation still lingering in the air. His playboy reputation, once charming and even beneficial to his image, has started to backfire. The board of directors is growing impatient—no, they’re furious—and they’ve made it crystal clear that his antics are ruining the company’s reputation. Something needs to change. Immediately.

Pepper Potts, his ever-practical assistant, stands across from him, arms crossed as she regards him with a mixture of sympathy and exasperation.

“We need damage control,” she says, her voice steady but firm. “The media is eating up every single party, every single fling. They don’t take you seriously anymore, and frankly, neither does the board.”

Tony raises an eyebrow, taking a casual sip of whiskey. “What’s your plan, Potts? A heartfelt apology tour? I’ll have to fit that between saving the world and engineering cutting-edge tech, you know.”

Pepper doesn’t flinch. “You need stability. Something solid, responsible. The kind of image that reassures people you’re not just a billionaire playboy. You need…” She hesitates, as if weighing her next words carefully. “…a wife.”

Tony nearly chokes on his drink, coughing out a laugh. “A wife? Are you serious?”

“Dead serious, Tony.” Pepper’s eyes narrow. “The board will back off if they see you’ve settled down. It shows commitment. That you're thinking long-term. And if the right woman is involved—someone respectable—then maybe people will start seeing you as the man behind the genius, not just the man at the party.”

Tony leans back, considering her words more seriously than he expected to. Marriage had never been on his radar—it’s never even been a blip. But this is different. A strategic move. A necessary one.

“Alright, say I’m interested,” he says slowly. “Where do you propose I find a wife willing to marry me for show?”

Pepper sighs. “There are plenty of women—”

“I’m not interested in one of those society climbers, Pepper. I don’t need anyone looking for a fifteen-minute spotlight or a big payout.”

Just as Tony is about to dismiss the entire conversation, the door to his office swings open. You stand there, slightly out of breath, a bundle of papers clutched to your chest.

Pepper blinks in surprise, but Tony just arches an eyebrow. “And you are?”

“I’m—” You pause, taking a breath. “I need to talk to someone. My home—” you stammer, fumbling with the words, "—I was told to come here. You helped my mother years ago. She said—if I ever needed anything—”

Tony watches you, his expression unreadable, though his eyes flicker with curiosity.

“Well, you’ve certainly come to the right place for help,” he says, his tone shifting from mild annoyance to sudden interest. “Why don’t you sit down? Let’s talk.”

You cautiously take a seat across from him, feeling out of place in his luxurious office. You’ve heard the stories about Tony Stark—the genius, the billionaire, the womanizer. But in this moment, you can’t afford to care about any of that. You need help, and he’s your last shot.

“Let me guess,” Tony says, leaning forward. “You’re about to lose your home. You need money. And you have nowhere to turn.”

You glance at Pepper, who looks back at you with quiet understanding, then back at Tony. “Yes,” you whisper, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on you.

He leans back again, studying you for a long moment before something shifts in his expression. A thought flickers across his mind—a spark of an idea. And then, he smiles.

“Let’s make a deal,” Tony says suddenly. His voice is calm, calculated. “I need a wife. You need a home. How do you feel about an arrangement that benefits both of us?”

Your heart stutters in your chest. “A wife?”

Tony nods. “It’s purely business. You marry me, I’ll make sure you never have to worry about money again. You’ll have everything you need—home, security, whatever. And in return, I get the board off my back. Simple.”

You blink at him, trying to process the whirlwind offer that’s just been thrown at you. It sounds insane. But then again, your whole life has become a series of impossible situations lately. And this one…well, this one comes with a solution, even if it’s wrapped in the strangest of packages.

Tony leans in, eyes locked with yours, a hint of a challenge in his voice. “What do you say?”

You sit there, staring at him as though he’s just suggested you rob a bank together. His words hang heavy in the air, and your mind races to catch up. A wife? Marry Tony Stark? The idea sounds absurd, but as your thoughts turn back to your eviction notice, you realize you might not have a choice. Desperation has a way of forcing your hand, and this—this could be your way out.

Tony watches you, his expression still unreadable, though there’s a glint in his eyes that makes you wonder if he’s enjoying your discomfort a little too much. He’s waiting for your answer, clearly expecting you to be as quick and sharp as he is.

“You’re serious?” you manage to say, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Dead serious,” Tony replies, the smirk on his face both charming and infuriating at the same time. “It’s a win-win situation. You get stability, I get a new image. We play the part for the public, keep the board happy, and in a year or two, we go our separate ways. Clean and simple.”

You stare at him, searching for any sign that this is some kind of joke, some twisted billionaire’s game. But there’s nothing playful about his gaze now. Tony Stark might be a lot of things—reckless, arrogant, brilliant—but he’s not someone who wastes time.

“What’s in it for you, really?” you ask, folding your arms defensively. “Why me? You could marry anyone—some model or socialite who would be more than happy to play the part. Why pick a random woman off the street?”

“Because you’re not a model or a socialite,” he says simply, his voice dropping a little lower. “I don’t need someone who’s after the spotlight or my bank account. I need someone who won’t get in my way. Someone who’ll keep this business.”

He pauses, watching your reaction carefully. “You don’t seem like the type to get tangled in the drama. You just need help. And that’s the kind of deal I can work with.”

You feel a lump form in your throat. It’s true—he's offering you a way out of a sinking ship. A home. Security. All the things that have been slipping through your fingers, one by one. But still, the idea of entering into a fake marriage with Tony Stark? You’d be lying if you said the thought didn’t terrify you. You’ve seen the headlines, the rumors about his womanizing ways. Could you really trust him? Could you even pull this off?

And yet, the alternative is worse. A life of uncertainty.

“Why would anyone believe it?” you ask, biting your lip as you try to find holes in the plan. “I mean…we just met. People will see through it.”

Tony chuckles softly, leaning back in his chair, a picture of relaxed confidence. “Oh, believe me, people will believe it. I’ve built an entire career on controlling the narrative. I know how to spin a story. We’ll have a whirlwind romance, some well-placed public appearances, maybe a dramatic proposal. Before you know it, the world will be eating out of our hands.”

You inhale sharply, your mind still racing. Everything about this feels so…surreal. And yet, as crazy as it sounds, it’s starting to make sense. At least from a practical standpoint.

Tony watches you closely, as though sensing the shift in your thoughts. “Look, I’m not asking you to love me, or even like me,” he says, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “This is just an arrangement. You get what you need, I get what I need. And once it’s done, you walk away with enough money to start a new life, debt-free. No strings attached.”

The words no strings attached seem to echo in your mind. You swallow hard, looking down at your hands as you twist them nervously in your lap. It’s a cold, transactional proposal. And yet…you can’t deny that it makes sense.

“What’s the catch?” you ask quietly. There has to be one. With someone like Tony Stark, there’s always a catch.

He tilts his head slightly, considering your question before shrugging. “The only catch is that for a while, you’ll be living in my world. That means the media, the attention, and probably some uncomfortable dinners with people who think they’re more important than they are. It won’t be easy.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you weigh your options. It’s not like you have many left. The thought of staying in this small, cramped room, waiting for the inevitable eviction, is unbearable. And as much as the idea of marrying Tony Stark terrifies you, it also feels like a lifeline being thrown at the last possible second.

“So?” Tony leans forward, his gaze steady on yours. “What do you say?”

You bite your lip, the papers in your hand crinkling slightly under your grip. This might be your last chance. Your final way out.

“Alright,” you whisper, barely believing the words coming out of your mouth. “I’ll do it.”

A slow, satisfied smile spreads across Tony’s face, and he extends his hand across the desk. “Then we’ve got a deal.”

You stare at his hand for a moment before slowly reaching out to shake it, sealing the arrangement that’s about to change your life in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.

As your hand clasps his, the weight of what you've just agreed to settles in. You're about to become Mrs. Stark — at least for the world to see. And as daunting as that may be, it’s still better than the alternative.

You meet his gaze, feeling a strange mix of fear, excitement, and something else you can’t quite name.

This is only the beginning.

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The next few weeks unfold in a blur of public appearances, carefully crafted smiles, and whispered conversations behind closed doors. You and Tony play the parts well, slipping into the roles of an unexpected, whirlwind romance. The media eats it up.

The first date is a public affair—dinner at a five-star restaurant in downtown Manhattan. The paparazzi are already outside when you arrive, cameras flashing like fireworks as Tony steps out of his sleek black car, offering you a hand. You take it, the warmth of his touch feeling almost foreign despite the fact you’ve grown used to his presence.

You force a smile, heart racing as you hear the shouts of photographers calling out for a picture, for a smile, for a kiss. Tony leans down, whispering in your ear, "You’re doing great. Just breathe."

It’s strange—how natural he makes it seem, how easy it is for him to slip into this version of himself, the attentive, doting boyfriend. To the world, Tony Stark is charming, smooth, and infatuated with you. And you? You’re the mystery woman who somehow captured the billionaire’s heart.

Inside the restaurant, things are a little less chaotic. You sit across from Tony, the intimate lighting making the scene feel more private than it really is. But the cameras are still there, outside the windows, snapping away.

“So,” Tony says, his voice low as he leans in, folding his hands casually on the table. “How’s the food? Pretending to enjoy yourself yet?”

You smirk, rolling your eyes as you push a piece of food around your plate. “Oh, I’m absolutely swooning. Can’t believe how lucky I am to be here with you.”

Tony chuckles, leaning back in his chair, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Good. Keep it up. The more they buy this, the less we have to deal with later.”

It’s a game. A performance. One that you both know the rules to. But as the weeks pass and the dates pile up, something shifts.

The next outing is a stroll through Central Park, and the one after that is a charity gala where Tony's hand rests on the small of your back, guiding you through a sea of high-society types who eye you curiously, wondering what you did to catch the elusive Tony Stark. And despite how staged everything is, there are moments where Tony seems less like the playboy billionaire and more…human. Moments where he cracks a joke, and you find yourself laughing a little too genuinely, or when he holds a door for you, and you catch the briefest flicker of something unguarded in his eyes.

But you’re careful to remind yourself: this is all business. You’re not here to fall for Tony Stark. You’re here to save yourself.

After weeks of these public outings, the media frenzy reaches its peak when Tony finally sets the stage for the proposal. You’ve both discussed it already—how it has to be big, dramatic, a spectacle that leaves no room for doubt.

You're dressed in a stunning gown, attending yet another high-profile charity event. The ballroom is packed, every face in the room belonging to someone rich or influential. The press is buzzing, and you can feel the weight of a thousand eyes on you.

Tony has been his usual charming self all evening, but there’s something different in the way he looks at you tonight. Almost as if this moment means something more to him. You push the thought aside, focusing on playing your part.

Just as the night seems to be winding down, Tony stands, clinking his glass to get everyone’s attention. The room falls silent, and your heart starts to pound. This is it.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Tony’s voice is smooth, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’m not usually one for speeches, but tonight, I need to break that habit. Because I have something important to say.”

The crowd watches, captivated, as Tony walks toward you, his steps slow and deliberate. Your breath catches in your throat as he stops in front of you, taking your hand.

“I’ve spent my life building things,” he says, his voice echoing through the room. “My company. My legacy. But in all that time, I never thought I’d find someone who’d make me want to build something else. Something personal. Something real.”

He drops to one knee, and for a second, the world around you seems to freeze. The gasps from the audience are barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat. He pulls out a ring, the diamond glittering under the chandeliers.

“I’m asking you, right here, in front of everyone, to make this official. Will you marry me?”

It’s all a show, of course. The practiced speech, the perfectly timed down-on-one-knee moment. But as you stare down at him, ring in hand, something about it feels too real. His eyes meet yours, and for a brief moment, you forget that this is all a charade.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to remember the contract, the deal you made in private. This isn’t real. It never was. It’s just for the cameras, for the board, for the company. But still, you manage to smile as you nod.

“Yes,” you say softly, the word slipping from your lips like it belongs to another version of you. “I’ll marry you.”

The room erupts into applause, but you barely hear it. Tony slips the ring onto your finger, standing to pull you into an embrace. His arms wrap around you, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, “Perfect. Now they’ll back off.”

Behind closed doors, things are starkly different. The moment you leave the public eye, Tony is already in his office, the papers spread out on his desk. You stand beside him, the diamond ring on your finger suddenly feeling heavy, reminding you of the weight of the bargain you’ve struck.

Tony flips through the pages with a calm, focused expression, glancing at you briefly. “Three years,” he says, tapping the contract. “That’s the timeline. We stay married, let the public eat it up, and after three years, we go our separate ways.”

You nod, staring at the paperwork. Your eyes catch the clause that’s been added in bold: Upon the dissolution of the marriage, Y/N will receive a sum sufficient to cover all debts and ensure financial stability for the foreseeable future.

“Once the board sees I’ve settled down, they’ll loosen their grip. By the time we’re done, you’ll have more than enough to start fresh,” Tony continues, his voice businesslike. “No strings attached. Clean break.”

You sign the papers without hesitation, feeling a strange mix of relief and something else—something you can’t quite name—as your pen scratches across the line. This is what you agreed to. It’s what you need.

But as you set the pen down, you catch Tony’s gaze, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he feels it too. The tension between what’s real and what’s part of the arrangement. The way his touch lingers a little longer than necessary when the cameras aren’t around. The way his eyes sometimes soften when they meet yours.

But before you can dwell on it, he stands, slipping the contract into a folder. “We’re good to go,” he says, his tone brisk again. “Now let’s give them the show of a lifetime.”

And so, with the contract signed and the terms laid out, you walk back into the world together—Tony Stark’s fiancée, destined for a picture-perfect marriage that will end exactly when it’s supposed to. Three years from now, you’ll walk away with everything you need.

Or at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

The galas become routine, a swirl of elegant gowns, expensive champagne, and the murmur of voices in rooms filled with wealth and influence. You’ve perfected the role by now—Tony’s perfect fiancée, charming, poised, always ready with a smile and the practiced story of how you two “met.”

The backstory you and Tony crafted is flawless, and it’s become second nature to you. You met at a charity event, of course. Something respectable, something that would explain why a billionaire like Tony Stark would fall for a woman like you—someone who wasn’t already a fixture of his high-society world.

Tonight’s gala is no different. The room is packed with the usual mix of celebrities, business moguls, and old-money aristocrats. You stand beside Tony, your arm linked through his as you make your way through the crowd, the warm glow of chandeliers overhead. Tony’s hand rests on the small of your back, and even though it’s all part of the act, you can’t ignore the comfort of his presence anymore.

“Y/N!” A familiar voice draws your attention, and you turn to see a woman with a dazzling smile approaching. She’s dripping in diamonds, her manicured hand clutching a flute of champagne. “You two look amazing tonight. I swear, every time I see you, you just glow more. It’s like you were made to be by Tony’s side.”

You smile graciously, the practiced ease of it making you feel a little guilty. “Thank you, that’s so kind.”

She leans in, eyes twinkling. “I just love your story. It’s so romantic! I mean, meeting at a charity gala and then falling in love like that? It’s like something out of a movie. How lucky are you?”

Lucky. You bite back the irony of that word, nodding instead. “It was unexpected, but…fate works in mysterious ways, right?”

“Oh, definitely! Tony must’ve been swept off his feet the moment he saw you,” she says with a conspiratorial wink, clearly enjoying the idea of the elusive Tony Stark being anything but untouchable.

You glance at Tony, who’s deep in conversation with some business associates nearby, the cool confidence never leaving his face. You know the truth behind that first meeting—how he found you when you were at your lowest, desperate and vulnerable. But none of these people will ever know that. To them, this is a fairy tale. And you? You’re the lucky girl who got to marry the prince.

Another couple approaches, and the cycle begins again. Compliments, questions about the wedding, and endless retellings of your "love story." You smile through it all, playing your part perfectly, while Tony occasionally sends a reassuring glance your way. He knows how exhausting these events can be, but it’s all part of the plan. You keep up the charade for the media, the board, and everyone else who needs to believe this romance is real.

The wedding comes faster than you expected. After months of public appearances, interviews, and carefully orchestrated photo ops, the big day is finally here. It’s everything the world expects it to be—grand, lavish, and utterly flawless.

The ceremony takes place in a sprawling estate, the gardens decorated with flowers that seem to stretch on for miles. The guest list is as exclusive as it gets—celebrities, politicians, business moguls. The kind of wedding that would dominate headlines for weeks, exactly as planned.

You stand in front of a full-length mirror, staring at yourself in the wedding gown. It’s breathtaking, really. The lace and silk hug your body perfectly, the veil trailing behind you like something out of a dream. It should feel like a fantasy, but there’s something surreal about the whole thing.

Pepper walks in, smiling softly at you as she adjusts your veil. “You look beautiful,” she says, her voice gentle. “Everything’s set. The press is buzzing already.”

You nod, taking a deep breath as you stare at your reflection, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach. This is it. The moment where you and Tony take your fake relationship to the next level in the eyes of the world.

Pepper gives you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before stepping out, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

The ceremony begins, and you make your way down the aisle, each step feeling heavier than the last. Your heart pounds in your chest as you see Tony standing at the altar, looking impossibly dashing in his tailored suit. His eyes meet yours, and for a brief moment, the world around you fades.

You force a smile, reminding yourself this is all part of the plan. But as you approach him, something changes. The look in his eyes is different—there’s a softness there, a vulnerability you haven’t seen before. It throws you off guard, and suddenly, you’re not so sure if this is just an act anymore.

The officiant begins, and you stand there, hand in hand with Tony, reciting the vows you both know are meant to be temporary. But with each word spoken, the lines between what’s real and what’s pretend blur just a little more.

“I, Anthony, take you, Y/N, to be my lawfully wedded wife…”

His voice is steady, but there’s something in his tone that makes your breath catch. You stare at him, searching his face for any sign that he’s just playing the part like you are. But in this moment, with the whole world watching, it almost feels like something else.

“I, Y/N, take you, Anthony, to be my lawfully wedded husband…”

The words slip from your lips, and as you say them, they feel heavier than you expected. Your heart beats faster as Tony’s thumb brushes lightly over the back of your hand. The gesture is so small, so intimate, that for a moment you forget everything—the contract, the deal, the carefully planned charade.

The officiant asks if there are any objections, and the crowd is silent, holding their collective breath. You can feel Tony’s eyes on you, and when he lifts your veil, the world seems to slow.

He leans in, his lips brushing yours, and for that brief, fleeting moment, it feels real. The kiss is soft, hesitant, as if neither of you are sure where the line between pretend and reality is anymore. The applause erupts, but all you can hear is the pounding of your own heartbeat.

You pull away, your eyes locking with his, and for just a second, there’s something unspoken between you. Something that neither of you are willing to admit.

But then the moment passes, and Tony’s signature smirk returns as he lifts your hand, showing off the ring to the crowd. The cameras flash, the guests cheer, and just like that, you’re Mrs. Stark—at least in the eyes of the world.

As the reception begins, you can’t shake the feeling that something changed between you two at that altar. Something neither of you expected. But before you can dwell on it too much, Tony is by your side, his arm slipping around your waist as he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Stark. You’ve officially survived the hardest part.” His tone is playful, but when you glance up at him, there’s a flicker of something deeper in his gaze.

You force a smile, nodding as you look out over the sea of guests. You’ve done it. You’ve played your part perfectly.

But deep down, you can’t help but wonder: Was it all still just an act? Or did something real happen between you and Tony in that brief, unguarded moment?

You push the thought aside, reminding yourself of the contract, of the plan. In three years, this will all be over, and you’ll walk away debt-free, just as promised.

But for now, you’re Mrs. Stark. And for better or for worse, that’s the role you have to play.

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The first few months of marriage pass in a delicate dance of closeness and distance. You and Tony keep up appearances for the press and the public, playing your parts to perfection. The media can't get enough of the two of you—the glamorous, whirlwind couple that keeps everyone talking. But behind closed doors, things are changing. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, the boundaries of your arrangement begin to blur.

At home, away from the cameras and prying eyes, Tony is different. It starts with small gestures. He brings you coffee in the mornings, just the way you like it, without you ever asking. You catch him looking at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, his expression softer than the public version of Tony Stark. It’s in the way he lingers when you pass each other in the hallway, his hand brushing yours just a little longer than necessary, his gaze lingering a little too long.

The nights spent in the massive Stark Tower feel less like a performance and more like something genuine. You find yourselves talking late into the night—about everything, about nothing. Sometimes it’s about work, other times it’s about things neither of you have shared with anyone else. Tony talks about his parents, about how lonely it was growing up despite all the wealth and success. You open up about your life before all of this, the struggles, the dreams you gave up on, and the ones you still hope for.

There are moments when it almost feels real—like you’re not playing a part anymore. Moments when Tony’s laugh is so genuine, so unguarded, that you forget this is all temporary. There are nights when he falls asleep next to you on the couch after watching some terrible movie you both made fun of the entire time, his arm slung over the back of the sofa, just barely touching you. And when he stirs in his sleep and pulls you a little closer, you don’t pull away.

You tell yourself it’s still part of the arrangement—that none of this changes the contract or the plan. But deep down, you know better. This isn’t just about saving his reputation anymore. Somewhere along the line, things got complicated.

But as the months pass, the press starts to ask questions. At first, they’re subtle—tiny, whispered headlines about the perfect couple, alluding to the next big story. “Stark Wedding Still the Talk of the Town,” they say. But then, the speculation begins to shift.

“When are the Starks Starting a Family?” The headline is plastered on the front of every tabloid, and soon it’s the only thing people want to know.

You notice it at the galas, in the way people casually ask about your future plans with a knowing smile, as if it’s only a matter of time before you announce a pregnancy.

“Any little Starks running around soon?” A woman asks you one night at an event, her voice dripping with curiosity as she sips her champagne. You force a smile, your practiced response already prepared.

“Oh, we’re just enjoying married life for now,” you say, deflecting the question as you’ve done a hundred times before. But it’s getting harder to avoid. The press is relentless, constantly speculating about why you and Tony haven’t started a family yet.

And then one night, during a quiet dinner at home, Tony brings it up.

“We need to address this,” he says, setting down his wine glass and looking at you seriously. “The whole ‘when are you having kids’ thing. It’s becoming an issue.”

You raise an eyebrow, feeling a knot of tension forming in your chest. “What do you mean?”

“The press. The board. Hell, even Pepper has been asking me about it.” He leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “They think if we don’t at least make it look like we’re planning to have kids, the whole marriage thing starts looking fake.”

You swallow, the weight of his words settling in. You’ve known this day would come—that eventually, people would start to question the validity of your marriage if they didn’t see the next logical step. But you didn’t expect it to happen so soon. Or to feel so…complicated.

“And what do you want to do about it?” you ask, your voice quieter than you intended.

Tony looks at you, his expression unreadable for a moment. “We can’t have kids. Not under this arrangement,” he says, his voice careful, measured. “That’s too far. We’ve been keeping everything business, and that… that’s different.”

You nod, relief and something else—something like disappointment—washing over you. The idea of having a child with Tony never even crossed your mind. It would complicate everything, not just the contract but your own tangled feelings.

“But,” Tony continues, his tone shifting as if he’s trying to solve one of his impossible engineering problems, “we could make it look like we’re…trying. Just enough to keep people off our backs.”

You stare at him, feeling a strange tightness in your chest. The idea of pretending to try for a family seems too intimate, too close to something real. But you understand what he’s saying. It’s part of the performance. Just like everything else.

“And what does that look like?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

Tony shrugs, but there’s an edge of discomfort to his usually confident demeanor. “We drop a few hints. Let the media speculate. Maybe mention something in an interview about how we’re not ruling it out. We don’t have to do anything drastic, just… give them something to talk about.”

You nod, knowing that it’s the logical next step. But as you sit there, staring at him across the table, you can’t shake the feeling that pretending to plan a family feels more dangerous than anything else you’ve done so far. Because even though the idea of kids has never been part of the equation, the thought of what that implies—what it means for the two of you—makes your heart race.

The truth is, things have changed between you and Tony. You’re not just business partners playing a role anymore. Somewhere along the way, you’ve become…something else. And the thought of what that might mean, of what you could become, scares you more than anything.

Tony watches you carefully, as if he’s trying to gauge your reaction. For a moment, there’s silence between you, thick with unspoken things. And then he says, almost too softly, “This isn’t what either of us signed up for. I know that. But… I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not comfortable with.”

You look at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice. It’s the closest either of you has come to acknowledging that things between you have become more complicated than just a contract.

“I’m okay with it,” you say quietly, though you’re not sure if that’s entirely true. But it’s the only answer you can give right now. “We can give them something to talk about. We’ve handled worse, right?”

Tony’s smile is small, almost sad, and for a brief moment, you wonder what would happen if things were different—if this weren’t just an arrangement. If the feelings that had started to bloom between you weren’t confined by the terms of a contract set to expire in three years.

But you push the thought away, telling yourself that none of this can be real. Not the lingering touches, not the late-night conversations, not the way your heart skips a beat when Tony’s gaze lingers on you a little too long.

Because it’s all still part of the plan. Isn’t it?

The press will get their story about you and Tony “trying for a family,” and you’ll continue to play your part. But behind closed doors, where the cameras can’t reach, the lines between performance and reality are growing more and more blurred.

And neither of you seems quite sure where one ends and the other begins anymore.

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The media frenzy never really stops. Every event, every gala, every time you and Tony are seen in public, the question of starting a family hangs in the air like a cloud, waiting to burst. At first, you both handle it with practiced ease—hinting at possibilities, making vague remarks about enjoying married life for now. The press eats it up, but as the months drag on, the whispers grow louder.

“Are the Starks having trouble conceiving?” “Is there tension in the Stark household?”

The headlines shift from speculation about when you’ll have children to rumors about why you haven’t yet. It’s a delicate dance, one that requires both you and Tony to show the right amount of affection in public, but with subtle hints of strain.

You both knew this would happen. The plan was to invent a story, an excuse that would explain why the perfect couple—the marriage that saved Tony’s reputation—was struggling to take that next step. And so, the story was crafted. You and Tony were “trying,” but it wasn’t working out. The media took the bait, sympathy replacing the pressure, as reporters switched from prying into your marriage to speculating about the emotional toll of fertility struggles.

It’s a brilliant strategy, really. The public buys it, the board of directors remains satisfied that Tony’s personal life is still under control, and you keep the illusion alive. But behind closed doors, things are different. The tension between you and Tony isn’t from some fabricated difficulty of trying for children—it’s from the unspoken truth neither of you can fully face.

Time is running out.

Three years. That was the deal.

You and Tony sit in front of the fireplace in the penthouse one night, the crackling warmth filling the space as the two of you remain lost in your own thoughts. The contract’s expiration date is approaching, looming over both of you like a shadow.

Tony leans back in his chair, his drink untouched beside him. He’s been quieter lately, more thoughtful, but you chalk it up to the usual pressures of running Stark Industries. Or at least, you tell yourself that’s all it is. But deep down, you know something has shifted. It’s been building slowly, a subtle tension, one you can’t quite place but feel all the same.

“You know,” Tony says suddenly, breaking the silence, “we’ve been doing a hell of a job keeping this thing going.” His voice is casual, but there’s an edge to it, a seriousness that pulls at something inside you.

You nod, turning to face him. “Yeah, we have.”

“And the press,” he continues, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. “They’ve got their story. We’ve given them everything they need. Sympathy, speculation, the whole package.”

You know where this is going, and the weight in your chest tightens. He’s bringing it up—the end. The divorce. The part of the plan that always seemed so far away, until now. You’ve kept the charade alive for years, and now it’s time to walk away, just like you agreed.

“Right,” you say softly, your voice catching in your throat.

But Tony doesn’t stop there. He stands, pacing slightly, his hands shoved in his pockets. His brow is furrowed, his face caught in that thoughtful expression he gets when he’s working through something complicated.

“Look, we’ve played this game long enough. And you’ve held up your end. More than held up your end, actually.” He pauses, glancing at you. “So, we could, you know…call it.”

You stare at him, feeling the weight of the conversation settle heavily on your shoulders. This is it. The moment where everything unravels, where you go back to being two people with separate lives.

But Tony isn’t looking at you with the same confidence he usually has when he’s broaching a difficult subject. He seems…uncertain. As if he’s weighing something deeper, something he hasn’t fully admitted yet.

You take a breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “Yeah. That’s what we agreed on, right?”

There’s a pause. Tony walks over to the window, staring out at the city below. His reflection is visible in the glass, but his expression is unreadable.

“We did,” he says, but the conviction in his voice is missing.

You watch him, waiting for him to say something more, to tell you what’s really on his mind. The silence between you stretches, the unspoken things hanging heavy in the air. It’s as if both of you are waiting for the other to say what neither of you is ready to admit.

“Tony…” you start, but he cuts you off, turning to face you, his eyes more serious than you’ve ever seen them.

“Y/N, I don’t think I can do this.”

Your heart skips a beat. For a moment, you’re not sure what he means. “Do what?”

He steps closer, his gaze locking onto yours, intense and raw. “Divorce you. Let you go. Walk away and pretend like none of this ever happened.”

The air between you shifts, charged with a tension that’s been building for months, maybe longer. Tony’s words hang there, vulnerable and exposed, and it hits you all at once—this isn’t just about the deal anymore.

“Tony…” Your voice is barely above a whisper, your heart pounding in your chest.

He closes the distance between you, his hands reaching for yours, his grip warm and strong. “I know this wasn’t part of the plan. I know we were supposed to walk away after three years and never look back, but…” He pauses, swallowing hard. “But I don’t want that.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Tony’s eyes search yours, his expression raw in a way you’ve never seen before. The walls he always keeps up, the armor he wears in public, are completely gone now.

“This thing between us, it’s not just for show anymore. I thought I could keep it separate—business and personal—but I can’t. I care about you. And I know we agreed that this was temporary, but it doesn’t feel temporary to me anymore.”

The truth you’ve been avoiding, denying to yourself for so long, crashes over you. It’s not just him. It’s you, too. Somewhere along the way, between the public dates and the private moments, the late-night conversations and the quiet mornings, you’ve fallen for him. Despite all your attempts to keep this arrangement strictly professional, you’ve found yourself caring more than you ever thought possible.

You stare at him, your heart racing. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying…” He exhales, his voice softening. “I don’t want to lose you, Y/N. I don’t want to walk away from this. From us.” He pauses, his gaze never leaving yours. “I love you.”

It feels like the world stops for a moment. His words hang in the air between you, and you can’t believe what you’re hearing.

Your hand tightens around his, your voice trembling slightly as you reply, “I love you too, Tony.”

It’s the first time either of you has admitted it, the first time you’ve said it out loud. And suddenly, everything clicks into place. This was never just an arrangement, not for either of you. Somewhere along the way, it became real.

Tony steps closer, cupping your face with his hands, his eyes soft and full of emotion. “Then let’s forget the contract. Forget the plan. Let’s do this for real.”

You nod, tears welling up in your eyes as you lean into him, his lips brushing yours in a tender, genuine kiss. The kiss feels like a promise, like the beginning of something you’ve both been building toward without even realizing it.

The contract, the public charade, the expectations—it all falls away. This isn’t about saving Tony’s reputation anymore. It’s about the two of you, finally being honest with yourselves, and with each other.

You pull back slightly, smiling through the tears. “No more pretending.”

“No more pretending,” Tony agrees, his smile mirroring yours as he kisses you again, this time with the weight of everything left unsaid now spoken. The future no longer feels like a ticking clock or an obligation to a deal. It feels like a life you’ve both chosen—together.

The night Tony confesses his love changes everything. The walls that once separated the two of you—the boundaries of your arrangement—come crashing down. That night, for the first time, everything feels real, not just in your hearts but in the way you move together, shedding the last vestiges of the deal that brought you into each other's lives.

After Tony’s confession, the two of you barely make it to the bedroom, too consumed by the need to be closer, to feel each other in a way that wasn’t hidden behind performance or pretense. His lips trace over your skin, soft but insistent, as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of you. You respond with equal intensity, your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as your bodies mold together effortlessly. The chemistry that’s been building for so long, simmering beneath the surface, finally explodes into something overwhelming, passionate, and real.

That night is unlike anything you’ve experienced with Tony before. It’s not about appearances or duty—it’s about desire, love, and the raw, unspoken connection you’ve always felt but never fully acknowledged. In every kiss, every touch, there’s an unspoken promise of a future you both want—a future no longer bound by a contract.

You spend the night wrapped in each other’s arms, the lines between where you end and Tony begins blurred in a way that makes you feel whole.

Months later, everything feels different. The weight of the contract, the looming deadline—it’s all gone now. You and Tony are free, not just from the obligations of your arrangement, but from the barriers you put up to protect yourselves. And it feels good. Better than good.

The press still follows your every move, but now, when you’re photographed together, it’s not an act. You’re truly in love, and it shows in every stolen glance, every casual touch.

And then, something else shifts. A few months after that unforgettable night, you notice something’s changed—within you. At first, you dismiss it, but as the signs become more obvious, the truth hits you like a tidal wave. You’re pregnant.

Telling Tony is a moment you’ll never forget. He’s in his workshop when you find him, hunched over some new project, completely immersed in his work. You’re nervous, but when you say the words, his reaction is everything you could have hoped for. He freezes for a moment, blinking as if he didn’t hear you correctly.

“Wait, what?” He straightens up, his eyes wide, his face a mixture of shock and awe. “Are you serious?”

You nod, unable to keep the smile from spreading across your face. “Yeah. We’re having a baby.”

For the first time since you’ve known him, Tony Stark is speechless. He just stares at you, his expression softening before he breaks into a grin. And then he crosses the room in two strides, scooping you up into his arms, spinning you around as he laughs—really, genuinely laughs.

“We’re having a baby,” he repeats, his voice filled with wonder.

The night of the gala is perfect. The two of you arrive hand in hand, the press buzzing around you as always, but this time there’s something different in the air. You haven’t made the announcement yet, but tonight is the night.

You wear a stunning dress, custom-made to skim over the subtle curve of your belly. It’s not obvious yet, but you know the media will spot the signs—sharp eyes never miss a detail. And when you and Tony take the stage, everyone’s watching.

Tony steps up to the microphone, his usual swagger in full effect. “So, I know you’ve all been wondering,” he starts, flashing that charming grin of his, “about when the Starks are finally going to have some big news to share.”

The crowd murmurs in anticipation, cameras flashing as the press leans in, hanging on his every word.

He turns to you, his gaze softening as he reaches for your hand. “Well, the wait’s over. Y/N and I are expecting our first child.”

The room erupts in applause, gasps and cheers filling the air as the cameras go wild. Tony pulls you into his side, kissing your temple as you both beam at the crowd, the love between you palpable.

After the announcement, the two of you make your rounds, mingling with the guests, accepting congratulations, and soaking in the joy of the moment. But later, when the two of you finally find a quiet corner, away from the crowd, Tony’s hand rests on your belly, his thumb tracing slow circles over the fabric of your dress.

“So,” he says, his voice low, filled with affection, “what do you think? Boy or girl?”

You laugh, leaning into him. “I don’t know. But I have a feeling they’re going to have your charm and your appetite for chaos.”

Tony grins, his hand moving to cradle your face. “Lucky for them, they’ll have your heart and patience to balance it out.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Let’s just hope they don’t inherit your knack for getting into trouble.”

He chuckles, pulling you closer. “Hey, trouble is part of the Stark legacy.”

You smirk, resting your hand on top of his. “Well, as long as they don’t inherit your driving skills, we’ll be fine.”

Tony gasps dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “My driving skills are impeccable! You love my driving.”

You give him a look, raising an eyebrow. “I love you, Tony. Your driving… not so much.”

He laughs, leaning in to kiss you softly, and for a moment, the world outside fades away. It’s just the two of you—together, happy, and ready for whatever comes next.

As the night winds down, Tony pulls you aside once more, his lips close to your ear as he whispers, “I can’t believe this is our life now. I can’t believe we’re doing this—for real.”

You smile, your heart swelling with love as you whisper back, “Neither can I. But I wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else.”

And with that, Tony leans down, pressing a playful kiss to your belly before looking up at you with a mischievous grin. “Just so you know, the kid’s first words are totally going to be ‘Iron Man.’”

You burst out laughing, swatting his arm. “Not if I have anything to say about it!”

Tony winks, pulling you into his arms. “We’ll see about that, Mrs. Stark. We’ll see.”