imagine it

ＯＳ。Stoned (Stark)

For Orli_Wan_Kenobi who requested a Stark edition of Spirited. Warning: Brief strong language.

Depressed. Betrayed. Relieved. Rejected. You didn't know what to feel. Everyone had warned you, told you to stop. Here yet again you didn't listen. You held a strong pattern with men & woman alike. A pattern that no matter how many times you were advised to keep off it, didn't break. But it broke you. There were many defensive remarks that made you justify each and every situation as unique. "He's sweet." you'd say. "She understands." or, "He likes kids." - "She accepts me." And though time after time again the relationships fell through, you kept on telling yourself the new, the next, they would be the one.

It took 7 and 1/2 years for you to tire of your game. Two thousand seven hundred and thirty eight days for you to realise that all you were doing was lying to yourself. You couldn't take it any more. Then - you met him and you thought... maybe he will be different.

People scoffed at the notion. Anthony Edward Stark? Different? He was undoubtedly the most well known womaniser across the western hemisphere. One could even say in all the nine realms! How could he possibly be better than any of your other 48 hour fuck buddies. This trip around you didn't have any legitimate excuse. You thought the fact that he was Iron Man was reason enough. (Not even factoring in his philanthropy, genius intellect and billions of dollars.)

Where did it all start? The equation was simple. A bar, some scotch. A guy and a girl. A dance floor resounding with the voice of John Abbott. And a cab back home to his place. It was rash. Impulsive. Yes promiscuous. Another train on your dangerous track. But you relished it. The overall mindset being that whatever happens, we can blame it on the Dalwhinnie when the sun comes up.

Let's just say that fire stayed burning longer than anticipated.

You had at one point later on voiced your doubts and growing concern to Tony down at the lab on night. Questioning if anything really set you apart from the vast number of other better looking, tall and tan beauties he'd taken up to his room before you. Reminding him of his reputation. Of which his reply had been, "That's how I treated woman. You are an exception. And no - I have not said that to every single one of them. In fact you are the first." Rest assured, his answer was enough to put you at ease. (Then again he could have asked the same inquiry of you.)

You were relatively easy to please. A rare luxury for Mr. Stark indeed. Normally if his ego and facial hair wasn't good enough he'd need to recite much more coaxing than was ever necessary on you. You were laid back, he was laid back. Maybe that is why life had coasted so smoothly back then. When everything felt right.

Just two free spirits speeding by on the shore of Malibu in their GT convertible. Wrists adorned with Taghuar, black locks whipping about in the wind. Lips red with strawberry juice and pearly whites flecked with their little black seeds. It would have appeared that your pervasive game had finally paid off. Up until an obstacle arose, and no one was looking to dodge it.

"Ms. Y/n, Mr. Stark would like to see you in his workshop."

"Tell him to come here for once." you had said. Late night shifts of filing stack after stack of paperwork had taken its toll on your eyes and your brain was shot. It almost felt as if Thor himself was using it as an anvil for his pounding.

"He says it is urgent." FRIDAY pressed once more.

"Well then let him come urgently."