♡||Marvel x Reader Oneshots||♡

《 stark 》

[3. Parted In The Middle]

[Note: Not a romance and find out why oN THE NEXT EPISODE OF DRAGON BALL Z--!]

In this life, it's well known that twins are a miraculous thing in this world. They feel each other's pain and can feel each other's emotions when they're close. If your a lucky pair that's deeply connected, you're bound to have a special traits. They're almost an 8th wonder of our glorious planet, because no one understands why.

That brings you here. Of course, something like this would happen now, in the later years of your quiet, lonely life. The realization that after struggling on your own for so many years, you had another.

////

You had confined yourself in your room for some time, actually. Vaguely paying attention to the news of the missing billionarr, you sat twirling away on your phone for design ideas on your independant projects when it came.

The pain, that is.

Suddenly, your chest burned and the air in your lungs grew thin too quickly. A dull thud sounded as you fell to the floor. Clutching your chest in absolute pain, you began to hyperventilate before your vision blanked out completely as fear numbed the pain.

Millions of miles away, Tony Stark feels it too. The billionare's injuries are dire a shrapnel is moving towards his heart.

When you wake, hours later, you claim it was an extreme case of heartburn and toss the bad carbs out the fucking window. When he wakes up, he tries to find a way out of that shit-hole alive.

There's a dull pain in your chest (and a slight limp that comes with) that remains after then, worsening from time to time. After the second month, you drag yourself to the doctor.

"There's nothing specifically wrong with your heart," he informs you, perplexed himself, "In fact, your the picture of perfect heart health. Try not to stress so much."

Despite this useless diagnosis, he perscribes you some medicine you leave on the counter for the next few weeks and continue your work, determined to get the best possible results.

Much later, Anthony Stark is safe at home with mixed emotions. The genius discovers that the shrapnel fragment lodged in his chest cannot be removed without killing him. As such, he creates a makeshift peace of armor as a last-stich effort to protect his aching heart. It comes in thd form of a chest plate. He must recharge the chestplate every day or else risk the shrapnel killing him, but he is not detered.

Sometime after, the name "Iron Man" comes up in the news. The name doesn't interest you though. You rest with a hand on your chest, that buzzes, ever so slightly.

It takes some time before completely getting over whatever the hell it is and then, it's been nearly year or two. Iron Man is a growing figure and your name comes up more with the popularity of your inventions.

A genius, in league with the Anthony Howard Stark. You're honored and proud, a picture of what your late mother would have wanted for you.

But that picture is flipped on its face when you finally came to meet your self-proclaimed rival.

////

"Right this way," the red-headed woman, Pepper, led you into a glorious office space, "Mr. Stark has been awaiting this meeting for quite some time."

Just being near the room, there was a proud feeling you couldn't shake. It damn sure wasn't you. You were borderline panicking, as you played with the sleeves of your (f/c) sweater.

"R-Right," you smile at the kind woman, catching yourself, "I can say the same."

Approaching the desk, you find the notorious playboy fiddling with a card house, completely oblivious to your artival.

"Mr. Stark," Pepper warns him, clearing her throat.

"Hmm?" You feel a twitch in your eye. He was steadily attempting to start another layer of cards. "Ah, hold on. Almost there."

He's relatively still for a few more seconds, going his calm and carefree way and pissing you off in the process. Pepper facepalms, after a minute.

10 more seconds and you were pissed. Oddly enough, so was the man before you.

"Oh, for the love of-!" You began to step forward, unaware of the step before you, and you just.

Stubbed.

Your.

Fucking.

Toe.

"Oh sweet lord-!"

"JESUS CHRIST?!" Anthony finished what would have been your own string of curses with his own, as your hands flew down to your respective feet. Pepper Potts stood confused at the exchange. Meanwhile, the cardhouse collapsed.

[Note: This was pretty long. I want this one in short parts, so remember this shot. Lol RIP Toe 2k18]