Multifandom Oneshots

Tony Stark x Reader

He was changed for the better in Afghanistan, but New York made him a mess. The worst that you've ever seen him, though, was after the Accords:
He flies in through the window, sending glass spraying everywhere. You cover your face with your hands, feeling the smarting of the glass hitting your arms.
"Y/N!" He yells.
Cap had called to say Tony might be upset, but he hadn't said why.
"I'm right here." You lower your arms and stand up off the couch.
His suit opens up and he stumbles out.
Your eyes shoot open. "My God!" You exclaim.
He stumbles over to you, beaten and bruised, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you.
You put your hands on the sides of his face and hold his head back. "What happened?"
"I don't want to talk about it." He kisses you harder, pushing you back onto the couch you had just vacated.
Normally, this would be the moment when your anxiety kicked in. Tonight, though, you were too worried about Tony to be thinking about your self-image issues.
He props himself over you and stares down at you.
"What?"
"You know my parents were in a car accident several years ago." He says. It sounds like it's meant to be a question, but his tone doesn't change to indicate it.
"Yeah."
"I guess it's been a pretty good while."
"It has been." You agree.
He lowers himself back down to kiss you, but he starts crying. Instead of kissing you, he drops himself down beside you.
You sit up a bit, scared. "Tony--" You sound frantic, even to yourself.
He puts his head on your stomach, burying his face in your shirt and putting an arm around you. You lean down and kiss his head. "It's okay, love." You say gently, starting to play with his hair when you sit back up. "Everything's okay."
It takes a pretty good while for him to calm down, but when he does, he gets up and goes to his suit. He presses some buttons and a part of it opens. He reaches in and pulls out a tape.
"Do you wanna put this in while I go get a drink?" He asks, his voice rough from the sobs.
"Sure." You say. "Are you--"
"Wait to ask that. Do you want anything?"
"Water. Please."
You put the tape in and pause it on a black screen.
He comes back and hands you a glass of ice water, sitting down with his whiskey in hand. He puts his free arm around the back of the couch and nods that he's ready for you to press play. You lean back into his arm and he wraps it around you. You press play.
You watch a car drive down a road. Silent film?
But then a motorcycle comes and crashes it into a tree. The motorcycle returns, and a man gets off. The man pulls Howard Stark from the car, and he begs the stranger not to touch his wife, but the man kills him and puts him back in the vehicle.
You sit up straight, on the edge of the couch. What is he showing you? Where the hell had he gotten that?
Maria Stark calls for her husband, and the man goes over to her side of the car and strangles her. The man looks into the surveillance camera and shoots it.
A tear leaks down your face and you stare at the television, heart hammering. You start to cry.
You don't know what you were expecting, but it sure wasn't that.
You turn to look at Tony.
"If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go be sick." He says in a tight voice, setting his empty glass down and leaving the room.
You stare at the tv for a second longer, your chest tight. You pull yourself together a bit.
You follow Tony to find him vomiting in the kitchen sink. You lean against the counter, stare out the window above the sink, and put your hand on his back. You both stay like that for a while.
He splashes water on his face, leaving his head hanging down. You look down to see water dripping off of his face, so you hand him a towel. He dries his face and refolds it perfectly, setting it on the counter. You realize you still have your water in your hand, so you hand it to him. He takes it.
You don't say anything, because what are you supposed to say to this? There's nothing even Tony Stark could have thought to say in this moment.
Tony stands in front of you, breathing deeply. Your eyes wander all over his face, but avoid his eyes.
He takes a sip of the water and spits it out. He sits the glass down and puts his hands on either side of the sink, staring out the window. You reach up and rub his back with one hand.
"Steve knew." Tony says, sounding choked. "He knew it, and he didn't tell me."
"He probably thought he was protecting you." You say quietly.
"I don't care. My mother--I watched my mother die." He says quickly, leaning over the sink and coughing. "He killed my mother." He throws up again.
You will yourself not to cry again. Now isn't the time.
When he straightens, you kiss his forehead. (Yes, you did it to show affection, but mostly to check his temperature.) "Do you feel feverish?" You ask.
"Do I feel.... Yeah, I guess. A little."
"Yeah. You're burning up. Go lie down."
"What?"
"Drink some water and go lie down in bed."
"You just did that mother thing. And here I was thinking you were trying to show your love."
"Go lie down, Tony." You shake your head with a little smile.
He does.
You stand in the kitchen for a second, breathing deeply.
You'd disinfect the sink later. For now, you just got a cool rag.
"Mr. Stark would like you to bring him whiskey." JARVIS says.
You do. Your father used to say that a stiff bottle of whiskey was all that was needed to cure anything.
You hesitate though, because, then again, your father was an alcoholic who died of liver failure at forty-two.
You decide that Tony's more than earned a drink.
When you walk into the bedroom, Tony's sitting at the foot of the bed, staring at the television.
You look to the screen to see Howard Stark being dragged out of a wrecked car.
"You can't keep watching this, love." You tell Tony.
"I can, and I will. Did you bring... You did! Thank you."
"I'll go get a glass. I ran out of hands."
"I don't need one." He assures you.
"Don't watch this again, Tony."
"Too late."
"Why do you insist upon torturing yourself?"
"It was my fault." He stares at the tv, closing his eyes when his mother's killed.
"How was it your fault?" You sit down beside him.
He drinks out of the bottle. "I could have been there."
"Then you would've been dead."
"That's all right."
"No."
"You wish you were. Why can't I wish I was?"
"Because you deserve to feel better."
"So do you."
"Please turn it off, Tony."
"No."
"I don't... I don't want to watch it again."
"You can leave."
"No."
"Why?" He glances at you.
"I'm not letting you suffer alone."
He looks away, clearing his throat. "Fine. Get drunk with me." He says gruffly, holding out the bottle.
"No thank you. One of us has to be responsible." Technically you're tired of always being the responsible one, but it's not so bad.
"JARVIS can."
"I'm good, Tony. We could always turn it off and, you know, not get drunk."
"Why did I let you convince me to stop drinking, again?"
"We've only had this discussion a million times."
He shrugs and drinks again. "It's a good question."
You put your arm around him and watch the video. You really would rather do anything else, but if he's insistent upon watching it, by God, you're going to watch it too.
You watch him, sometimes. Some times he'll stare at the screen, not blinking; others he'll close his eyes at the crash and the deaths. Some times he'll grab your hand; others he'll reach for the bottle. Sometimes he turns his head into your hair.
He starts crying, and you get up to turn off the TV. "That's it, Tony. Lay down and let somebody take care of you."
He's still staring at the screen, though, his eyes not only broken now, but haunted.
You stand in front of him and bend down so your faces are level. You shake him. "Hey. Tony."
He jumps, blinking. "What?" He asks huskily.
"Go lay down. We're going to bed."
He nods and stands, grabbing onto you. You kiss his cheek lightly. "Do you want to shower?"
He nods and walks into the bathroom.
You knock on the door every couple of minutes to ascertain that he hasn't drowned himself. That would be a very Tony-like thing to do.
He doesn't take a long shower; only about ten minutes. You'd spent seven of those minutes sobbing quietly--into a pillow, to muffle it. You'd forced yourself to calm down when the water went off.
He comes and lays beside you in the bed. You scoot over beside him.
"Thank you." He whispers hoarsely.
"Sure, baby." You kiss his cheek. "You're burning up." You point out.
"I'm freezing." He says.
You push your fingers through his wet hair. "I love you."
"I love you too."
You don't say anything, just stare at him in the dark.
"Hey, Y/N?" He whispers. He sounds like he'd just drank a gallon of bleach.
"Yeah, love?"
"Never mind."
You wrap your arms around him.
"I swear you read my mind sometimes."
"I have to. You don't say anything."
It's quiet for a bit.
"Hey, Y/N?"
"Yeah, baby?"
"I can't sleep."
"Should we make coffee?"
"You can sleep." He starts to get up.
You follow him.
"You can sleep." He says quietly, slipping his arms around you.
"I told you I'd be here for you, didn't I?"
He kisses you. "I love you."
He winds up going to bed, and the next day, he refuses to get up. So, you lay down beside him.
"When I get up," he says, "The first thing I'm doing is getting a ring."