#rdj x reader

. . MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N Y/L/N FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT!

part 2 / part 3

Coming home from an extremely long and stressful day/week was unfortunately something very familiar to you—so familiar that you and your best friend (your not famous best friend who was your pilar through all the chaos fame brought) had created a little routine; she’d send you various videos and links to movies and online books she knew would relax and amuse you.

So, cuddled up in your bed with your pyjamas and your star lights on (a true child at heart, always) you opened up your chats with them and eagerly swiped to see that they’d sent.

‘Marvel Cast Flirting with Y/N Y/L/N For 10 Minutes Straight!’ was the video for tonight.

Immediately you cackled to yourself, hurriedly sending your best friend thanks in the form of ironic emojis and frantic proclamations of undying love, before loading up the (true to prior word) ten minute long video.

Surely this was an exaggeration.

The video began, large letters in a cute font appearing on the dark screen ‘the marvel cast all being in love flirting with y/n for ten minutes’. The quick ‘AS THEY SHOULD’ before the clips started playing made you giggle to yourself.

The first clip was from some years back, you were pretty sure this was a premiere for The Avengers, given how you looked and the quality—you were standing opposite on interview, smile on your face and dressed in a pretty outfit the same colour of your character’s aesthetic.

“How do you feel about your costume?”

Before you could even answer the interviews question, Scarlett intercepted your interview—hair in a short red bob and a smirking grin at her lips as she wrapped an arm around your waist.

“Well I know how we all feel about this ladies costume, it’s a beautiful piece that just makes the women wearing all the more beautiful. If that’s even possible.”

The edit quickly gave Scarlett beating heart eyes for you as she didn’t tear her eyes away from you for a second—making present time you laugh.

With that she kissed your cheek, leaving a red mark of her lipstick and walked away, dramatically winking in your direction.

The second clip was a blooper, from .. Captain America: Civil War, you thought. You were on Sebastian’s shoulders, thighs locked over his head—in character, as your character and his were mid fight.

He stumbled back over a table accidentally and you let out a startled yelp, hands flying to steady yourself in his long hair and one of his landing on your arse cheek to steady you as he steadied himself with the other.

“Is it bad that I’m loving this?”

“SEBA—“

“Cut!”

The third clip was you and Lizzie (Elizabeth Olsen) reacting fan tweets; Lizzie unrolled the piece of paper, her eyes lighting up as she giggled with a little smirk.

“Elizabeth. .” You wearily trailed off, looking at your friend.

“Sorry, sorry. Okay! This tweet says if i could just pretty BEEP please with the juiciest most mouthwatering cherry on top get a not kid friendly scene of Wanda and (Your Character) I could die peacefully, my wish fulfilled. I implore you marvel, listen to your dying fan.”

“That tweet had over fifty thousand likes as well.” A feminine voice added in from behind the camera, laughter in her tone.

You and Lizzie turned to each other at the same time, grinning.

“I mean the fan is dying babe. .”

“Right? We should totally make this happen, like, totally.” She gave you a cheeky once over, eyes appreciating all of you. “Because it was the fans wish, not mine, duh.” Lizzie added.

“Mhm.” You hummed with a smirk.

The fourth clip was a evidently some sort of ‘guess the body part’ game: a photo of what you were pretty sure was your bottom half was the picture currently used for guessing, in the picture you were leaned over in a pair of yoga pants and in your personal opinion, you looked good. Well, your arse looked good (amazing, otherworldly—you humbly added)

Lizzie was the first person to answer, the video showing each persons turn one by one and immediately she said, “that’s my girl. Y/N.” Then giggling she added, “now get my girls booty off the screen, I don’t need you all ogling her. We get enough of that, sometimes causes a strain on us. But we’ve remained strong together.”

Paul Rudd was next and he stared at the picture of you for a few solid seconds, “it’s Y/N.” He sheepishly admitted. He pointed an accusing finger dramatically towards the camera—“I only know this because of all the edits you guys make!”

“You don’t have to watch them.” The interviewer pointed out innocently; Paul pouted, grumbling.

Next was Anthony who instantly answered, “That’s Y/N right here!” He hyped you up, grinning. “Don’t even try and make it creepy, we do glutes together man, it’s why we’re the best asses in the cast. Up top!” Anthony exclaimed, holding his hand up towards the picture as if pretending to high five you or something—the interviewer timidly gave him a high five.

Sebastian was next as you (and everyone) watch his eyes flicker and grin that was more of a smirk spread across his cheeks, “that’s definitely y/n.” He assumed instantly. “Would’ve been able to tell you that blindfolded.”

“But—“

“I’d have just sensed her.” Sebastian giggled.

Chris Evans was next—a grin picked up on his face immediately, eyes trained on the photo of you and he ran a hand over his beard, lightly biting his lip (HEELLLOOO????)

“That’s Y/n.” Chris stated confidently, smirking lightly and the camera caught some of the team in line of sight exchange raised eyebrows.

The fifth clip was of Brie Larson who was being interviewed on some sort of premiere event again—presumably or her (marvellous) movie, Captain Marvel, smiling at the interviewer.

“Out of all of the people on the Marvel Cast, those who you’ve met, do you have a favourite out of them?” The interview questioned.

“I’m not really one for favourites but I would definitely say I’m closest to Y/n! She’s—she’s just so lovely and funny and she’s like a ray of sunshine, honestly. She’s been a great help in the filming process as well, she coached me through everything with so patience—I would’ve strangled me if I was her, but no, she just had that adorable smile on her face. She’s truly an amazing person and a better friend than I thought possible.” Brie answered enthusiastically with a soft smile.

“Awwww! We love to hear that—are any of the rumours about her true?”

Brie blinked, seeming taken aback for a brief moment— “Yes she does smell amazing, she’s always effortlessly beautiful, she’s unfailingly hilarious and yes no one in this world deserves her. But like. . if she’s open to it,” Brie paused, winking at the camera and making a call me sign with her hands and mouthing the words with a flirty grin.

The sixth clip was of you, Tom Holland, RDJ, Paul Bettany, Zoe Saldana and Pom Klementieff on Jimmy Kimmel, tasked with drawing your characters. The clip started just as you turned around the drawing of your character and well, it was actually surprisingly good in your own opinion—the audience immediately erupted into loud and obnoxious cheers.

“As great as that is, love, it still doenst capture the extent of your beauty.” Tom Holland, who was sat to your left, grinned cheekily at you and the audience practically shouted and hooted.

“Would anything ever?” Zoe shot back from your right side, twirling a lock of your hair affectionately and smiling as she leaned against you.

“I sincerely doubt that anything could.” RDJ piped up, giving you an unapologetic grin when you looked over at him with fond exasperation as the crowd was practically inconsolable in their glee and enthusiasm, shouting out your praises. “Give it up for sunshine, people. Our gorgeous ray of sunshine!”

“I—“

“They are quite right, Y/n.” Paul Bettany spoke over Jimmy who was obviously going to try and calm down his crowd.

The seventh clip started playing: it was a clip taken from Jacob Batalon’s story, clearly in a party setting—the video showed you and Zendaya in the centre of the dance floor, everyone around you clearly watching you both as you danced up against each other to the sounds of Yeah! by Usher.

“Mate I think your girls about to be stole.” The voice of Tom’s friend, Harrison, sounded from beside Jacob and presumably Tom himself and to empathise Harrison’s words, Jacob zoomed in on your faces, wide grins of ecstasy, and the way Zendaya was admiring you.

“Right in public as well, the scandal.” Jacob cackled.

The eighth clip was an interview of Chris Evans and McKenna Grace (you adored that little girl to pieces). The two of them were answering the ‘Webs Most Searched Question’s’ together.

“Who was.. Chris Evans, date at the Oscars?”

McKenna immediately ooed, smiling teasingly and Chris laughed from beside her.

“This is getting juicy!”

“Well, it was my mom one year and then my sister last year—“

“He wishes it was Y/n though.” The little girl laughed with a beaming smile on her lips and you, present time, arched a brow.

Chris bashfully chuckled with a smile and you swore you could see a genuine red hue on his cheeks, “I mean—it’s Y/n. Anyone would be happy to go with her.”

“I would be!” McKenna excitedly exclaimed as she grinned so sweetly you were now going to make sure you took this sweet child with you to the Oscar’s, Chris seemed to melt as well, recovering from his brief flustered moment.

The ninth clip was Sebastian and Anthony reading out their thirst tweets in a Buzzfeed interview, the clip started as Sebastian was pulling out a tweet from the large bucket.

He read it to himself and blushed faintly, Anthony’s eyebrows practically reaching his forehead as he tried to lean over and read it but Sebastian jokingly shoved him back.

“Oh for—That scene where (Your Character) chokes baby Bucky out with her thighs, his—his head all up in there; the shit I would give to be her, I would give my soul, my fridge, my moms purse, my dads golf clubs. Please, sir. Put your face between my legs like you did Y/n.”

By the end of the tweet, Sebastian had a deeply awkward and slightly perturbed look on his face and Anthony cackled at his side.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he was more than happy with it being Y/n, wouldn’t change it even for your dads golf clubs.” Anthony laughed.

“That’s. . I’m gonna have to decline that, um, respectfully.” Sebastian spoke in regards to the tweet, ignoring Anthony.

In turn, Anthony ignored Sebastian as well and just dramatically kept winking at the camera.

The tenth clip was Cobie Smulders, who was being interviewed on some sort of carpet event, smile on her face as she spoke to the interviewer before her.

“How does it feel knowing that the lesbian community, myself included, are firmly rooting for your character, Maria and Y/N’s character (Your Character) to end up together?”

Cobie’s smile turned genuinely delighted, “I love it—we love it. Y/n and I actually have made so many PowerPoints and presented them to the Russo brothers, but alas. I do really want to end up with her—oops, sorry, wait. I really want my character to end with hers. . would be the appropriate wording. But I’m all for inappropriate if Y/n wants.”

Cobie jokingly bit her lip at the camera and you, watching the video, could not contain your laughter as the interviewer practically burst out with excitement.

The eleventh clip was a blooper from your filming of the avengers—you were standing next to Chris Hemsworth who had an arm around your waist, holding you to him as in the scene his character, Thor, flies the both of you away. But Chris quickly tugged you in front of him and began tickling you mercilessly, hysterical giggles falling from your lips as the people around you laughed as well.

“Chris, HAVE MERCY!”

“Aw, but I enjoy hearing your laughter. It’s a very pretty sound.” Chris laughed to himself, finally stopping his attack and letting you slump against his, back to his front. “I particularly like this as well.” He smirked down at you.

“CHRI—“

In the twelfth clip, you and Tessa Thompson were reading out thirst tweets together: “The feminine urge to fall asleep cuddled into Y/n’s boobs is too real, pls come here mommy.” You read out, giggling all the while.

“The urge is so strong.” Tess commented, nodding her add as she sneakily glanced at your chest with a innocent smile.

“Come here, baby.” You joked, laughing as you opened your arms for her and she practically leaped into them, resting her head on your chest.

“I’m living the dreams of millions right now and it feels amazing.” Tessa gloated jokingly, pulling away from you with only final squeeze and a little wink the camera caught.

“I concur.” You grinned back.

The thirteenth clip was you and Tom Hiddleston, talking with an interviewer on a carpet event. His arm was around your waist and both of you were wearing smiles greeting the interviewer.

“So, obviously, you both act in marvel movies, but not really close together! If you could, would you want to work more closely and have you characters be more involved?”

“I absolutely would.” Tom immediately replied with an honest, heartwarming smile. “And personally, it’s not even a fact of our characters being intertwined it’s more that working this fantastic woman beside me is a gift I have come to deeply cherish, truly it’s an honour. And I suppose, if our characters were to get involved, so to speak, that I would enjoy that because this is the y/n y/l/n, I’d be a mad man not to want that.” He finished charmingly.

You grinned, taking a bow, and both Tom and the interviewer laughed before that clip cut as well.

The fourteenth clip was at Comic-Con, mostly everyone on the cast had already been called out and taken their seats and then your name was called, the audience erupting into loud cheers.

Sebastian, who was sat next to your assigned seat, hopped and and jogged over to offer you his arm as you grinned and waved at everyone—the crowd screaming louder at his actions.

The screams only increased as Chris Evans and Don Cheadle got up to pull out your chair for you to sit down in—you pretended to swoon into Sebastian before kissing all of their cheeks and taking your seat.

“Where was the treatment for me?” RDJ joked.

“Man, they’re just whipped. But, like, who isn’t for Y/n?” Anthony stage whispered back to him and the crowd literally roared in excitement.

The fifteenth clip was Aaron Taylor-Johnson being interviewed with Lizzie for the Age of Ultron press, most probably.

“So, Aaron, obviously your character—spoilers, sorry—isn’t with us anymore but if you had the chance to explore Pietro more, who would you have wanted to explore a romance with?”

“(Your Character) definitely, Y/N.” Aaron answered with a little sheepish grin at the speed and Lizzie giggled into her palm.

“I’m not making fun, I agree, for myself.” Lizzie commented unprompted.

“Why is that?” The interviewer questioned.

“Why—mate, I think it’s pretty obvious. Y/n is such a stunning person, inside and out, I would have loved to—and obviously her character is extremely sick and I’m certain the relationship between her and Pietro would’ve been the stuff of legends but. . come on, Y/n Y/l/n is my real reason.” Aaron joked.

“Get your own girl, she’s mine.” Lizzie glared.

please give us an innocent & shy y/n and flirty-drunk-jealous tony drabble pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee TQ!

SHY READER & FLIRTY TONY STARK - a Drabble

(you'll find the others drunk/jealous in this post but scroll down, I wanted to try something new and divided it in parts)

Tony Stark notices you the moment you step into the lab—mostly because you trip over your own feet. Smooth.

“New intern or did Fury finally send a spy who isn’t obvious?” He grins, leaning against his desk. You turn red. Mission: Speak. Failed.

You mutter something about coffee runs. He tilts his head. “Uh-uh. Try again, Casper. Louder, for the people in the back.”

“I—I’m here to—to assist,” you squeak. Tony gasps, clutching his arc reactor. “A shy scientist? Illegal. I’m calling SHIELD.”

He nicknames you “Bambi” after you bolt out of the room the first time he winks. (”Like the deer. All wide-eyed and skittish. Adorable.”)

All my work related to Tony Stark can be found here! Additionally the masterlists to other characters associated with the actor will also be tagged here. This work has been written for entertainment purposes and with no intention to hate or hurt anyone or anyone's sentiment. Please don't reshare my work on other platforms!

MDNI for any work that has been marked with NSFW

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pairings: Tony Stark x wife!reader

genre/warnings; romance, fluff, domestic love, established relationship, luxury themes, light humor, emotional intimacy, mild language, canon divergence, Tony Stark devotion, soft moments, wealth aesthetics

Summary: Tony Stark can’t give you the moon, so he builds you a life that shines brighter than any star ever did.

2127 words

A delicate, diamond-encrusted piece you’d pointed at during a gala — one you hadn’t even said you wanted. Just a hum of admiration, a passing, “It’s pretty.”

The next morning, it’s sitting on your nightstand with a velvet ribbon around it. No note. No words. Just Tony’s satisfied smirk when you catch his eye over coffee.

“Had it shipped from Paris,” he says casually. “Didn’t like the clasp, so I had them redo it in platinum.”

And that’s just how it is.

You’re the kind of woman who doesn’t touch door handles — not because you think you’re above it, but because Tony won’t let you. He’s programmed his entire mansion to recognize your biometrics. The moment you approach a door, it glides open. The same goes for drawers, elevators, and the temperature of the pool.

When you step into your closet — the walk-in cathedral of fashion — JARVIS softly informs you,

“Mrs. Stark, every item in your wardrobe has been worn at least once. Would you like to refresh your collection?”

“Order the spring line from Saint Laurent,” you sigh, sipping champagne.

“Already done, ma’am,” JARVIS replies.

Tony programmed him that way.

And when your nail tech slightly misses the shape on your ring finger, you don’t even say anything. Tony notices. Tony always notices.

By the time you’re home, there’s a new tech waiting in the spa room — and your old one? Gone, with a generous severance package and a nondisclosure agreement the size of a novella.

It’s not possessive. It’s devotion.

He never lies to you. Not about the Iron Man suit, not about missions, not even about the things that scare him. When you ask what he’s building in the garage at three in the morning, he hands you the wrench.

“Prototype,” he mutters, eyes flicking up to you. “And before you ask, yeah, it’s dangerous. No, I’m not quitting. But I am taking you shopping tomorrow, so you can yell at me in Prada.”

You grin, setting down the wrench. “Deal.”

He gives you ten million dollars to start your fashion company — no contracts, no fine print. Just a wire transfer and a kiss to your temple. And when you have your first runway show, Tony Stark, the man who’s late to everything from board meetings to his own birthday, is in the front row.

He claps the loudest.

When a designer ruins your dress ten minutes before the red carpet, Tony doesn’t blink. He fires her himself — politely but firmly — and calls in a new one before you’ve even changed your lipstick.

When your hair stylist gives you a bad blowout, the same thing happens.

When a PR exec so much as looks at you wrong, Tony has them escorted out with a smile that could melt steel.

“Sweetheart,” he says one evening, lounging in the penthouse while you model two outfits, “the red dress is hot, but the neckline’s fighting the necklace.”

“So it’s ugly?”

He grins. “On anyone else? Yeah. On you? We can make it work.”

You turn back to the mirror, smirking. “We always do.”

And you do — because the truth is, Tony Stark built entire worlds, but he only lives in one.

The one that revolves around you.

The wife who never touches handles, who commands JARVIS like she was born to it, who can walk into his lab mid-project and make him stop — not because she asks, but because she simply exists.

“Hey,” you murmur one night, slipping into his lap as the city glows behind him, “do you ever think you spoil me too much?”

He looks up from his tablet, smirking. “Sweetheart, if I could put the moon on a chain and hang it around your neck, I would.”

You kiss him softly. “So that’s a no?”

“That’s a definitely not.”

And with that, he sets his work aside — because there are only two things Tony Stark will drop everything for: saving the world, and making sure his spoiled, adored, impossibly perfect wife never has to lift a finger again.

Reporters, flashing cameras, influencers dressed like they fought each other for front-row seats — and somewhere in the middle of it all, Tony Stark sits with one leg crossed, sunglasses on indoors, phone off, and an expression that says this is my kingdom.

But everyone knows who the queen is.

You glide out from backstage in an all-white suit — silk, tailored to perfection, hair pinned, lips painted the exact shade Tony once called his favorite sin. The cameras go wild. You wave once, politely. Tony smirks, leans back, and doesn’t even try to hide his pride.

“Mr. Stark, what brings you here tonight?” a reporter shouts.

Tony lowers his shades just enough to look her dead in the eye. “Mrs. Stark,” he says simply. “That’s all the reason I need.”

Your show starts with a thunderclap of music. Models stride down the runway in your newest collection — crisp lines, bold colors, luxury redefined. Tony doesn’t blink once. Not because he’s analyzing the fashion (though he’s learned to) — but because he’s watching you.

Every few minutes, JARVIS pings his earpiece with quiet updates.

“Her heart rate is elevated but steady, sir. Hydration levels optimal. The lighting cue was executed as planned.”

“Good,” Tony murmurs, “keep me posted.”

To anyone else, it looks like he’s checking stock prices. In reality, he’s monitoring your show like it’s a Stark Industries launch.

When the finale walk begins, the crowd rises to their feet. Flashbulbs pop like fireworks. You step out last, wearing your crown piece — a dress of molten gold that took six weeks and one breakdown to complete. Tony remembers every stitch. He remembers when you said, “If this one doesn’t work, I’m scrapping the line.”

He told you then, “You’re not scrapping anything. You’re redefining it.”

Now, watching the crowd roar, he’s never been more right.

You lock eyes with him at the end of the runway. He stands — because of course he does — and starts clapping before anyone else does.

And just like that, Tony Stark sets the tempo for the entire room.

Backstage after the show, chaos reigns again — interviews, champagne, stylists crying with joy. Tony’s there before anyone can reach you, hand on your lower back, guiding you out of the crowd with practiced ease.

“Proud of you,” he murmurs against your ear. “You killed it, sweetheart.”

You grin, breathless. “You think so?”

“I know so. And if anyone says otherwise, JARVIS already has their social media wiped clean.”

“Tony!” you laugh, smacking his chest.

He shrugs, totally unbothered. “What? I’m supportive.”

You roll your eyes but can’t stop smiling.

When your assistant rushes up, stammering about a missing garment bag and a rude journalist, Tony raises an eyebrow. “Handled,” he says before she can finish. “The journalist’s badge doesn’t work anymore, and your missing bag’s in the limo.”

“Tony,” you whisper, “you didn’t—”

He smirks. “I did.”

Then he pulls you close, voice low and amused. “You think Stark Industries runs on autopilot when I’m at your shows? Nah. The world can wait. You can’t.”

You melt against him, laughing softly. “You really have a problem.”

“Yeah,” he says, kissing your forehead. “You.”

And when the afterparty starts, Tony Stark — billionaire, genius, Avenger — spends the night doing what no one expects.

Holding your clutch. Fixing your hair between photos. Letting the world see that, tonight, the most powerful man in the room is just the man who fell in love with his spoiled, unstoppable wife.

The city outside still hums with the aftershocks of your success. Your name glows in gold letters across a skyline of glass — Y/N Stark: The Visionary of Modern Luxury. The headlines are everywhere. The photos are already viral. But right now? You’re barefoot in Tony’s workshop, sitting cross-legged on the metal stairs, watching your husband do what he does best — tinker.

AC/DC thunders through the speakers, the familiar rasp of “Shoot to Thrill” echoing off steel and holograms. Tony’s in his softest t-shirt — the one you “accidentally” shrunk in the wash years ago — goggles in his hair, grease on his hands, and concentration in his every movement.

The rhythmic whir of drills and the low pulse of the arc reactor blend with the guitar riffs. It’s chaos, but it’s home.

You rest your chin on your knee, watching him work. He doesn’t need to look up to know you’re there; he always knows.

“Hey, boss,” you call over the music.

He glances back, lips curving. “Thought you’d be asleep by now. Didn’t think runway royalty did the whole grease and bolts after-party.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you admit, stretching. “Too much adrenaline.”

Tony wipes his hands with a rag, gives the engine in front of him one last tweak, and then crosses the room to you. The second he’s close enough, you grab his shirt and pull him in between your knees.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi,” he echoes, smiling softly. “You were incredible tonight. I don’t say that lightly — I’ve met me.”

You laugh, eyes fluttering shut as he kisses your forehead. “I like when you say it.”

He hums against your skin. “I like when it’s true.”

You stay like that for a while — the steady thrum of ACDC, the faint smell of solder, the hum of a life you built together.

Tony pulls back just enough to gesture toward the workbench. “Wanna see what I’m working on?”

You nod, and he takes your hand, guiding you to his newest project — some sleek mechanical prototype, glowing faintly under his arc light.

“Marking system upgrade,” he explains, “but smarter. Faster. Stronger. Kind of like you in heels.”

You roll your eyes but lean against him anyway, resting your head on his shoulder. “You and your toys.”

“Hey,” he murmurs, turning a dial, “you’ve got your jewelry and fabrics. I’ve got my robots and repulsors. It’s balance.”

You smile at that — because it’s true. You two are chaos wrapped in love, extravagance wrapped in intimacy. The world sees flash and fame, but here, under the hum of electricity, it’s just two people who found home in noise.

“Jarvis,” you say softly, “dim the lights.”

The room dips into gold shadows, the arc reactor on Tony’s chest casting that faint, blue halo you’ve always loved.

He looks at you through it, something unguarded flickering in his eyes. “What?”

“Nothing,” you murmur. “Just... I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this.”

He tilts his head. “The workshop?”

“No,” you whisper, brushing your fingers over his chestplate. “You.”

Tony grins, but it’s softer this time. “Careful, sweetheart. You start saying stuff like that, I’m gonna end up building you a planet next.”

You laugh quietly. “I’d settle for a dance.”

He pretends to think about it, then snaps his fingers. “Jarvis, drop the track. Something slower.”

“As you wish, sir.”

The music shifts — ACDC fades into a lazy hum of instrumental blues. Tony offers his hand with mock formality, and you take it, slipping into his arms as he leads you in a slow, uneven sway between his inventions.

Bare feet on concrete. The faint buzz of machinery. His heartbeat under your palm.

No cameras. No flashes. Just you and him, dancing in the workshop that built Iron Man — and, somehow, built this life too.

When the song ends, he presses a kiss to your temple and whispers, “You know, out there, they call me a genius. But you’re the best thing I ever designed.”

You smile against his chest. “Good,” you murmur. “Because I’m never giving you up for parts.”

He chuckles, arms tightening around you. “That’s my girl.”

And as the night hums quietly around you — metal, music, and the soft pulse of love — Tony Stark goes back to work, you back to watching, both of you exactly where you belong.

A few days later, he calls you down to the lab again. AC/DC is humming low this time — not blaring — and Tony’s standing by the workbench with a small velvet box.

“What did you do?” you ask, half-smiling, half-worried.

He shrugs. “Wasn’t feeling like saving the world today, so I figured I’d improve it instead.”

Inside is a pendant: a sleek arc-reactor diamond, miniature, faintly pulsing with light. It catches every reflection in the room — blue fire in crystal.

“New design,” he says, trying for nonchalance. “It syncs with my reactor. Heartbeats stay connected — yours and mine. If one of us is in trouble, the other knows.”

You stare at him, speechless. “Tony—”

He clears his throat. “You said you didn’t want a planet, so I made you a star.”

You laugh, even as your eyes sting. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” he says softly, clipping it around your neck, “but I’m yours.”

The light glows once — your heart, his heart — perfectly in sync.

PAIRING || Fiancé! Robert Downey Jr. x Fiancée! Pregnant! Fem! Reader

WORDCOUNT || 5.2K

SUMMARY || While the road to pregnancy hasn't been the easiest, you're very excited to go through all the small and big moments with the man you love by your side, and when you can finally hold the little girl you've been protecting for the past nine months, your world is finally complete.

RATING || Explicit (E)

WARNINGS/TAGS || RPF | Pregnancy fic | Kid fic | Established relationship | Referenced issues with conceiving | Explicit sexual content

SMUT || Light dirty talk | Pregnancy kink | Daddy kink | Mention of a breeding kink | Hand job | Teasing/foreplay | Implied unprotected sex | Aftercare

A/N || This story is very special in honor of Robert's 60th birthday! I hope you will all enjoy it as much as @ccbsrmsf1 and I did while I worked on it! Thank you for everything again, bestie, I appreciate you and love you from the bottom of my heart! 🤍

EVENTS @fairytalebingo || Love at first sight @fandom-free-bingo Gingerbread Edition || Happy tears | Just let me take care of you | Hiding their face in the other’s neck | Best friends @fandom-free-bingo Gingerbread Edition || Admiring from a distance | “Just let me adore you.” | Dimpled smile | “A ‘yes’ would have sufficed.” | Cold hands | Teddy bear | Hugs from behind | Whispering to one another @fictionaldelightsbingo Under The Sea Edition || Eating a watermelon

Photos: @ccbsrmsf1 || All other graphics in this post are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

Main Masterlist || Robert Downey Jr. || Part 1 || Part 3 (COMING SOON!)

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-Jaafar Jackson

-Kimi Antonelli

-Carlos Sainz Jr

- Lamine Yamal

-Pedri

-Gavi

-Joao Felix

- Memo Ochoa

-Kylian Mbappé

-Robert Downey Jr

-Pedro Pascal

-Hugh Jackman

-Bad Bunny

Later that night, you found him in the workshop again.

Of course you did.

“Tony,” you called softly, stepping inside.

He didn’t turn around this time. “Go to bed, honey.”

You crossed your arms. “You built me a robot that ties my shoes. You don’t get to ‘go to bed’ me.”

That earned you a chuckle. “Fair point.”

You walked up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist as best you could manage. He immediately relaxed into your touch, one hand coming down to rest over yours.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said quietly.

“I know.”

“You like helping me yourself.”

“I do.”

You rested your cheek against his back. “Then why?”

Tony was quiet for a moment, the workshop unusually still around you.

“Because,” he said finally, “I can’t stand the idea of you struggling with anything and me not being there to fix it.”

You squeezed him gently. “I’m not fragile, you know.”

“I know that too,” he said. “You’re the strongest person I know. That’s exactly why I worry.”

You smiled faintly. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does in my head.”

You shifted, moving to stand beside him instead. “You don’t have to solve everything.”

“Don’t tell me that,” he said, half-teasing, half-serious. “That’s my whole brand.”

You nudged him. “Your brand is overcomplicating simple things.”

“Excuse me, this is not simple. This is love.”

You blinked at him.

Tony froze. “Did I just say that out loud?”

“Yes.”

“…We’re not going to make a big deal out of it, right?”

You smiled, leaning up to kiss him gently. “Too late.”

He exhaled, then smiled back, softer than before. “Good. Because I meant it.”

Your hand drifted down to your stomach, and his followed instantly, covering it like it belonged there.

“We’re going to be okay,” you said.

Tony nodded, eyes unusually steady. “Yeah. We are.”

Then, after a beat:

“But I’m still adding voice activation.”

You laughed. “Of course you are.”

“And maybe a heated footrest.”

“Tony—”

“And a lullaby mode for the baby—”

“Tony!”

“Okay, okay,” he said, hands up in surrender. “But if the kid grows up and asks what I did while you were pregnant, I’m showing them the schematics.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And you love me.”

Summary: Tony leaves you once more to find Jack Sparrow.

Warnings: fluff? pirate au

Word Count: 334

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You look on at the man standing in front of you, cheeks reddened and puffy. “You can’t do this to me, Stark. You just came home to me. Don’t leave so soon, please.”

He took each of your hands and kissed every knuckle before squeezing gently and meeting your eyes. “You know I have loved you forevermore; the sea calls to me like the moon calls for the sun.”

“But you’re leaving me here alone to fend for myself?” You swallowed a lump in your throat as you yanked your hands out of his grip. “You were supposed to remain here with me in the village!”