Ironman X Reader - Blog Posts

Fuck it’s 8 am and I am now devastated by Tony’s death all over again 😭

I love you but I kinda hate you at the same time 😭

3)When B was alive, A and B had casual rituals that they would follow without a fault; A would bring B coffee in the morning and leave it on their bedside table, B would make A a sandwich at lunchtime, A would drop a towel into B’s room at 6 because they know that B always showers at 6:30, and so on. After B dies, A can’t help but unconsciously keep doing the rituals.

With Loki or Tony....

Thank you so much! This one is for the one and only Tony Stark <3 sorry, Pepper - you don't exist in this fic.

Warnings: grief, crying, panic attack WC: 1.4k

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Chronic insomnia, self diagnosed of course, left you the sole occupant of the avengers compound throughout the night. Sure, people came and went but you were the only one who roamed the empty halls looking for something to keep you mind occupied. Sleep had been elusive before Tony died but now it was slipperier Rocket in the armoury, there was no chance of catching it.

By 6am the sleep deprivation left you teetering on the edge of reality and imagination, the moment of bliss where you could forget everything you lost. As the sun began its torturous climb over the horizon you would make your way back to the top floor, taking the stairs so you wouldn’t have to make polite conversation with the agents already up for the day. Your calves burned from the climb but you made it to the penthouse and stopped to take in the breathtaking panorama of the place you had called home since meeting Tony.

You put the kettle on and let your eyes burn as they stared into the sun, waiting for the water to boil. Your fingers curled into the handles of two mugs on reflex and they fell smashing to the floor as you realised your mistake. The ceramic shattered against the tiled floor and you jumped as the sound broke through your sleepy haze.

“Is everything alright Miss Y/l/n?” Edith asked, the kitchen lights turning on with her programming.

“I’m fine, Edith.” You sighed, leaving the room in search of a broom to clean up your mess.

“Mr Stark said fine means freaked out, insecure, neurotic and emotional. Are you sure you are fine Miss Y/l/n.”

“I know what Tony said, don’t remind me what he said.” You all but growled. “I had years with him, I heard every word, every promise, every fucking lie!”

“Miss Y/l/n, your heart rate is becoming dangerously high.” Edith said, a holographic screen projecting your vital signs as the world began to tilt.

Your breathing was rapid and your head light as the spikes on the monitor reflected the panic attack that was physically manifesting all the pain you kept in your head. Your hands reached for the countertop as you could no longer hold yourself upright and Edith's voice faded as you slipped to the floor, sleep finally within your reach.

“Hey, you, yeah you sweetcheeks.” Tony whistled and you scrunched your nose up in distaste as you pointed to yourself.

“Pretty sure that’s a lawsuit, Mr Stark.” You said as you ignored your current task and strode over to him.

“Wouldn’t be my first.” He muttered under his breath. “What’s your name then darling?”

“I guess that’s an improvement.” You sighed. “It’s y/n.”

“Y/n.” He pursed his lips as he tested the sound on them, deciding if he liked it or not, probably already planning to pay you to change it if he didn’t. “Y/n…I like it, it suits you. Now, on your knees.”

“Mr Stark!” You gasped and raised your hand, fist closing and ready to wallop some manners into him when he burst out laughing.

“Please, call me Tony.” He chuckled and rolled out from under his hot rod he was working on. “I need a third hand to hold this part in place.”

Your lips fell open with a nervous laugh as you misread him, except you were sure he had known exactly how his words sounded. He was known to be the biggest flirt in California if not the US. Kneeling down beside him, you did as asked and held the part while he fixed it into place.

“Alright, now what?” You asked as you waited for him to give you another instruction.

“Lunch in New York, Dinner in New Orleans and the rest of our lives wherever you desire.”

You woke up alone in the oversized bed Tony had insisted on and you had to fight the immediate pain in your chest, even now you still expected to wake up and find Tony next to you. Even when Tony had been in it with you the majority of the bed went unused, Tony was always a little spoon, curling up at the edge of his side before reaching for your hand so he could pull you against his back and lace his fingers in yours. Few people would have ever known him the way you did or get to see the softer side that liked to snuggle under the sheets, it was something he only felt comfortable enough to do with you.

“Edith, how did I get here?” You asked as you sat up and kicked the blankets back, finding the sun almost reaching high noon.

“I, um, hope you don’t mind.” Peter said from the doorway, scratching his neck nervously. “Edith called me, I didn’t think you would want to go to the hospital.”

You sighed and ran a hand over your face, trying to chase away the memories that had tortured you in your sleep, leaving you even more exhausted. “Edith should have called an adult, you’ve got enough on your plate, you shouldn’t have to see that.”

“Sorry, Miss Y/l/n.” Edith apologised.

“I get it, I miss him too.” Peter visibly slumped as he looked at the portrait of you and Tony hanging on the wall.

“I still set the table for two.” You laughed but it was strangled and turned to a cry as you pulled your knees up to your chest. “Sorry, sorry.”

“If I do something I shouldn't, I expect to just see him standing there, looking down at me over his sunglasses.” Peter sniffed. “It was like losing my dad all over again.”

It wasn’t to say you thought your pain was the worst but you had forgotten that there were a whole lot of other people missing Tony in their own way. You were mourning your fiance, Peter was mourning his father figure, Rhodey was mourning his best friend. No pain was worse than the other, it was all just pain and you finally realised what Tony would have wanted for you.

For the first time since his death, getting out of the bed did feel like a mountain to climb. You crossed the room and let Peter break down in your arms, he was a boy who was forced to carry more weight than any teenager should. When his tears slowed, you led him to the kitchen and found the mess cleaned up before you sat him at the island and filled a pot with milk. You curled your fingers into two handles and placed them on the bench, brewing hot chocolate like you had always imagined doing with the children you had dreamt of one day having with Tony.

The clock struck noon and you realised you hadn’t even thought about looking at the door, the expectation of Tony walking in from his lab to have lunch with you. You were in charge of drinks and he would make the sandwiches, just another thing you hadn’t had since he passed. You missed lunch more often than not, lost in the daydream and waiting for him to make them, something that would never happen again. It was time to start making new habits.

Placing one mug in front of Peter, you opened the fridge and looked at the contents. “You hungry, kid?”

His eyes seemed to mist the nickname you unconsciously picked up from Tony and he shook his head. “I’m fine, y/n.”

You chuckled as you saw through his lie and offered a smile as you grabbed the ingredients for a decent sandwich. “You know what Tony said that means right?”

Peter shook his head again and you began to tell him the story, one of many memories you could impart on the kid. This was what Tony would have wanted, his family to remember his life not his death.