#i will be working my way through ironwidow prompts

[queeenpersephone]

Hello gorgeous!!!!! Just popping by to request your take (headcanon, drabble, anything) on peace, maybe specifically “the devil’s in the details but you got a friend in me” for ironwidow? Hope you have a great day!

hi yourself!! this is a great prompt and i'm so happy to get around to it.

peace

ironwidow || angst, hurt comfort || post-cacw

(natasha defends tony and, in doing so, reveals something that has been haunting her since they got together)

Natasha can tell Tony's nervous. She's nervous too, although she would never show it like her boyfriend currently is.

This is the meeting that will make or break the Avengers. If they can get the backing of T'Challa, have Wakanda on their side, they stand a chance against Ross and the UN with the Accords. Natasha has been meeting with T'Challa alone for weeks now, gaining his respect and that of his inner circle when she helped him handle a coup in his country right after she had reunited with her sister. Her sister who remains in Wakanda, where Shuri is helping her find more Black Widows in thanks for their help.

So, T'Challa likes Natasha. Maybe even considers her an ally. However, Natasha is not sure the King of Wakanda is a big fan of Tony Stark. And, a few minutes into their meeting, she hates to be proven right.

T'Challa watches Tony carefully as he responds to their proposal of reframing the Accords. "I have my reservations," he admits.

Tony shrugs his concerns off. Natasha bites down a grimace. She knows Tony is serious despite his demeanor, but T'Challa doesn't know Tony near as well as she. His use of humor in tense situations is an obvious coping mechanism to her, but to T’Challa, it seems like an irreverence to the seriousness of their meeting. "Name 'em."

T'Challa sighs. "Miss Romanoff - Natasha - is very deliberate and thoughtful. She is the reason I have faith in this venture. You, Mr. Stark, are impulsive and careless. From what I have seen of you over the years, you are not well suited to the diplomacy and compromise required for going up against the UN." He pauses, leaning back as he watches them for a reaction. "This will not be solved with fists or robots."

Tony flinches at the reference to Ultron, but before he can respond, Natasha stands up, leaning over the table.

"We came to the table in good faith, Your Majesty," she retorts. "And instead of looking for a solution to our mutual problem, you insult my partner without provocation."

Tony sighs. "Nat, he has a-"

"No," she cuts him off, glaring at him until he physically sinks down in his seat. "No one gets to talk to you like that, especially someone who doesn't know a thing about things you've done, the sacrifices you've made."

T'Challa holds up his hands. "Miss Romanoff, perhaps I-"

"No, you're going to listen to me, and listen well," she says, knowing every word that she is about to say is important, is the difference between a team and no team. A deeper part of her acknowledges that it's also going to shift her relationship with Tony, but she doesn't care. He deserves the words she's about to say. "Tony Stark is the best man I've ever known. He is selfless, kind, courageous, and wise. I count myself lucky to be his teammate because I know it's certainly more than I deserve. He gives me hope for a better world."

She can't look down at Tony, so instead she stares down T'Challa, who is looking more and more apologetic by the minute. "I am sorry," he says quietly. "Any individual that you speak so highly of must be truly remarkable."

She nods firmly, inhaling at the feel of Tony's hand on her hand on the table. "Excuse me," she says, ripping her hand away and making for the door.

-

It only takes Tony ten minutes to find her. It would be embarrassing if she didn't tell FRIDAY to tell him where she was. It's almost pathetic the way she wants to be around him all the time, but (and she can admit it only to herself, at this point) she's too in love to care how she appears to him. Only to him.

She's sitting against the wall outside the Compound, listening to the sounds of nature around her. She feels more than sees Tony come outside, not saying a word as he slides down next to her.

“T’Challa apologized again,” he says. “He’s ready to begin the strategy meeting as soon as we’re ready.” She doesn’t respond, and he picks at the grass they are sitting on. “It was clever, of course,” he says, a surprisingly vulnerable note in his voice, “to defend me like that. How’d you know that would get him to agree to help us?”

“That wasn’t why I said those things.”

“Oh, come off it, Nat.”

She freezes, then turns to look him directly in the eyes. He sounds confident, but his hands are shaking and he won’t meet her gaze. “Do you think that little of me, Tony,” she says mildly. 

He starts in surprise. “God, no, Nat - I think the world of you. I just - I know who you are. You don’t have to lie to me - I accept every part of you, including the triple agent. Please believe that.” 

She turns, taking his hands in hers and squeezing tightly. “Then believe this. I meant every word. You are - stop it - the best man I know. And I know I can give you happiness sometimes, Tony, but sometimes I wonder if you know what you’re getting into with me.” 

Tony laughs in her face, but when she flinches, he grips her hands tighter. “No - I mean.” He stops, breathes. “Okay. Then tell me what I’m getting into. Tell me, and I’ll tell you why none of it matters because I love you and you’re a hero and I still can’t believe you deign to sleep next to me every night.” 

She exhales, and they both pretend not to see tears escaping from the corners of her eyes. He brings her hands to his mouth, then presses them against his closed eyes, wetness coating her knuckles. “You’re... you’re so brave, and kind, and wonderful, Tony. This whole situation has been... it’s been very hard. I thought we - the team - were stronger than all of this. If you hadn’t kissed me on that plane coming back from Siberia - forced us to forgive each other - helped me find Yelena... I would have become that lonely spy again. You saved me.” 

He laughs again, but this time it is relieved and breathless and so deeply content that her heart feels like it’s about to burst. “Natasha Romanoff, you are so selfless, empathetic, and brilliant. I wouldn’t have made it out of Siberia without you, coming for me even when I was an unbelievable ass to you after Rhodey’s fall. Everything I’ve done right since Thor’s skinny reindeer brother rained hell down on New York is because I’ve followed your example.” 

Natasha can’t help her watery smile. “God, you’re such a dramatic liar.” 

Tony reaches for her jaw, cupping it and bringing her closer. “Shut up, Natalie, I’m trying to confess my undying love here. I’m allowed to exaggerate a little; they’re gonna make a lot of movies about this moment in mmfh-” 

She kisses him to shut him up and maybe for some other very small reasons that exist only in her heart, climbing into his lap. They kiss for another few minutes before she rests her head on his shoulder. He holds her close, one hand combing through her hair. 

There’s a long silence, then: “I can never give you peace,” she murmurs into his neck. 

His chest vibrates as he lets out a soft chuckle. “Oh yeah? Then what am I feeling right now?”

#ironwidow #tonynat #ironwidow writing #marvel #marvel writing #tony x natasha #natasha x tony #my writing #answered #anonymous #hope you liked this one anon! #i will be working my way through ironwidow prompts #forever #but i will never be mad about it #t'challa is amazing don't come for me #i love him too

[shortforstark]

IronWidow Greek gods au (with implied WinterWidow):

It’s very easy to forget that Hephaestus is just as powerful as the rest of the pantheon. Especially when it’s been thousands of years and the gods have long since adapted to mortal lives. Especially when he had always been separate, shunned until he was needed. Standing in front of him now, surrounded by the children he made with his own two hands, Aphrodite remembers.

“Sir?” the youngest child - an AI named Jarvis - prompts him for a response. He goes by Tony these days. Another of his children, a robotic arm, pokes him gently with a smoothie that definitely has machine parts in it.

“It’s alright, J,” he replies as he liberates the smoothie from the robot’s grasp. “You remember what I told you about me?”

“Indeed, Sir.”

“Good. This is family business, no need to call anyone just yet.” Tony slurps on his smoothie, only to spit out a lug-nut.

Tony Stark has the equivalent of a cosmic bomb embedded in his chest. It’s a testament to his lingering power, that he can still build his way out of anything.

“I should’ve known it was you,” he says mildly, eyes seeming to look right through her.

“Destiny is always keen to bring us together,” Aphrodite replies carefully. Her mortal name is Natasha, at least in this life.

“Where’s your side piece? Didn’t make this cycle?” Tony asks. It’s clear that he still cares very much what the answer is. He never quite got over the initial betrayal of her affair with Ares.

“That’s complicated,” Natasha admits. “I think we crossed paths once already, but it was brief.”

“Unusual. Then again, you and I are about to have a very brief intersection.”

“You’re dying?”

“Yes.”

“How can I help?” Tony blinks at her in surprise. That shouldn’t hurt, but it does. She supposes that���s the part of her that’s more Aphrodite than Natasha. The part of him that’s more Tony than Hephaestus decides to trust her.

Fury doesn’t know what she is. What they are.

“This may tip our hand,” Natasha warns, even as she prepares to liberate every piece of leverage SHIELD has over Tony.

“Then decide who you trust,” Tony decides. “I’ll tell my people, you tell yours. I’m tired of doing this alone.” He must be very close to dying if he’s willing to admit that.

Tony tells Pepper Potts, Jim Rhodes, and Happy Hogan. Natasha tells Clint Barton, Phil Coulson, and Nick Fury. They both confide in Agent 13, who happens to be Tony’s cousin Sharon Carter.

“Does this make me a demigod?” Sharon asks.

“No. We’re not even related,” Tony reminds her.

“That’s stupid. I want cool powers.”

“Shut up.” Sharon does not shut up.

“Is the Hephaestus thing the reason you’re so short?” It is. Tony sulks for a week after that.

Tony designs the means to save his own life based on nothing more than a cryptic hint from footage of Howard and a 3D model of the old Stark Expo. He’s a marvel to watch when he’s working. His face lights up with the joy of creation as his workshop thrums with power. Natasha thinks maybe that was her mistake as Aphrodite, never watching him at work.

Tony turns to her, high on his own success, burning bright both literally and figuratively. Natasha does what she should’ve done in their first life, and lets him sweep her into his arms. She drags him off to bed and makes love to him like thousands of years of separation never happened. The specter of Ares still hangs over them, but for now she has her husband, healthy and whole. As Natasha watches Tony sleep, she vows that things will be different this cycle. Tony holds enough love in his heart to forgive her after everything. She owes him the same.

#phill writes #tony stark #natasha romanoff #ironwidow #greek gods au #iron man #black widow

[katebishopofearth]

33. An unexpected kiss that shocks the one receiving it. For Iron Widow 😁😁😁

Thank you for the request! Sorry it took so long, hope you like it!

Send me ironwidow requests from the list here Completed prompts here

33. An unexpected kiss that shocks the one receiving it. [Find it on AO3]

Portals, Tony Stark decided, were illegal.

He hadn’t liked portals since he flew through one carrying a missile to the other side of the universe. Didn’t appreciate them haunting his nightmares and the edges of his consciousness. But he did not hate them until this moment – when his girlfriend disappeared into one.

The portal was meant to cast the alien soldiers and the alien soldiers alone onto a desolated, disintegrating planet. One moment thousands of metal bodies were pulled from the field and sucked into the portal, the next one of them grabbed Natasha pulled her in with them. Tony screamed her name and dived towards her. But he was too slow, too far away. Thor reacted at the same time, flying though the portal just as it collapsed on itself.

Tony crash-landed on the ground where the portal to space had been seconds ago. The Iron Man suit opened up and he fell out of it and sank into the tall grass.

The sun slanted gentle golden rays over the New England field. All was still, without even a breeze to stir the stalks of wheat and grass. There was nothing to suggest that moments ago, this had been ground zero for a fight against an extraterrestrial troop. Nothing to suggest that moments ago, they were six Avengers instead of four.

His brain felt like it had short-circuited and he was trying to reboot it. It took him a while – no more than a second or two in real time but it felt like an eternity because of how his mind always raced overtime – to register the yelling.

“NATASHA!" Clint raged, kicking at the grass. “Open it, goddammit”

Tony’s mind whirled back into action, a million miles per second. He thought of Natasha in some remote corner of the universe. No suit, no oxygen. Was there a breathable atmosphere on that planet? Her skin rapidly cooling as the air left her lungs. Her last moments before she lost consciousness cold and lonely. Tony knew that a normal human could survive in space for a minute. Natasha, with her enhanced biology, could last for a little longer. Probably not much. There was no decomposition in space – her body would remain on that distant planet forever, until it was swallowed by its sun or –

“Can you open it again?” Steve’s question brought Tony crashing back down to Earth. It was directed at Jane Foster. The astrophysicist was the reason they could open a portal and send the alien army back into the outskirts of space.

She was already entering commands into a device as she answered. “Working as fast as I can, Cap.” She turned to Tony and Bruce and rattled off a string of things to check and prep. Like Tony, Bruce was only just regaining his composure. But the instructions helped both of them pull themselves together. Jane was the most level-headed of the three scientists, and only her hurried movements betrayed her anxiety as she tapped rapidly at the screen of the device.

Tony forced himself to snap out of it. Being in a daze was the last thing that would help bring Natasha back. Every second he was numbed with shock was a second wasted on their precious window for rescue. He took a deep breath to gather himself before he approached the console at which Jane and Bruce were working. Bruce gave Tony’s shoulder a squeeze but did not say anything. There was nothing he could say that was more comforting or more useful than putting all his energy and focus into the task at hand.

It took two and a half minutes – the longest 150 seconds of Tony’s life – to reopen the portal. The blue edges fizzed, and out of the shimmering, space-deep centre, stepped Thor and Natasha. An arm around each other’s waist, electricity crackling around them, lightning in Thor’s eyes.

Tony barely registered that the cry came from his own mouth. He ran towards them, Jane right behind him. Pulled Natasha into his arms and crashed his lips against hers. A shot of electricity sent him recoiling with a yelp. It was only with years of being Iron Man that he didn’t stumble and fall on his behind. Natasha made a surprised sound. Remnants of lightning sparking across her bodysuit and skin. Thor’s booming laugh sounded over the field. In Jane’s arms, his eyes were back to their usual shade of blue, not the electric glow earlier.

Clint jogged up and hugged Natasha. He flinched at the electric shock but didn’t let go. The two spies swayed in their embrace and he lifted her slightly off the ground. “Nat, you lucky bastard,” he mumbled before he set her back down on her feet. “How was space?"

“Awful.” she deadpanned. “Would not recommend."

“Good,” Steve interjected. “No one is allowed to do that ever again.” Despite his stern words, his tone was warm, revealing his concern for his teammates. “Especially you, Romanoff.”

“Not to mention that I’d be all your boyfriend has left, and I’m a pretty poor substitute,” Bruce added.

Natasha began to make a snarky comment, but she stopped mid-word when her eyes landed on Tony.  

“He’s right, honey, I don’t think my poor heart can handle that one more time.”

Natasha’s expression softened the slightest bit. “Okay,” she agreed. “No more impromptu space trips.”

“Good.” Tony said firmly. He reached for her again, feeling relief only when her body fit against his and her arms wound around his neck. The contact of his bare skin against hers still gave him a small electric shock, but this time nothing could make him let go of her. He cradled the back of her head in his hand, nuzzling his nose into her cheek. He made a mental note to add extra oxygen supply to her suit and everyone else’s.

Sparks still danced on her lips when he kissed her again, giving him a light zap.

“Um, Jane?” He asked, “How long does the electricity thing last for?”

“A while.” Mischief danced in Jane’s eyes.

“Oh, and Thor?” Tony said. Thor stopped and looked back at him. “Thank you.” There was more gratitude in his voice than he could express in those two words, but Thor understood.

He gave a single nod. “I’m not losing any of my brothers or sisters-in-arms, if I can help it.”

He wrapped an arm around Jane’s waist and the scientist returned the gesture. They walked away, probably to find a quiet part of the field for a moment of their own.

“Have fun with the electricity thing,” Jane called over her shoulder.

Tony almost choked but Natasha chuckled. “Oh, you bet we will.”

Clint wolf whistled and Steve groaned and covered his ears, muttering about kids these days.

“Guys, give me a hand to pack up?” Bruce said. Tactfully he led the rest of the team back towards their equipment and away from the couple.

But as their teammates trod across the field, Tony only had eyes for Natasha. Looking at her now, with the setting sun turning her hair red-gold and giving her skin a light glow, she was so very warm and breathing and alive. It was only now that the tightness around his chest relaxed and he could breathe. “You really scared me, baby,” he admitted in a whisper, pulling her forehead to rest against his. The light zap from her skin, just shy of painful, grounded him to her.

“I’m sorry.” Her reply was in a low tone that matched his.

“I’m serious, Nat. No more near-death experiences for a while.”

“Okay,” she promised, giving him a quick kiss. A tingle passed from her lips to his.

Tony chuckled. “This lightning thing is… something, huh?” He sensed rather than saw her smirk. “You are literally sizzling.”

Natasha groaned at the bad pun, but Tony continued. “You gave me quite a shock when you came back all zappy, but right now I’m just struck by how gorgeous you are. And it’s honestly kinda en-lightning –“

“Stop!” Natasha laughed.

“Okay, okay, you’re right.” Tony forced himself to sober up. “After near-death experiences I really should conduct myself better – ”

She cut him off with a kiss. Tony was more than happy to comply. As the sun sank below the horizon, sparks flew between them in more ways than one.

[AO3]

#thank you for requesting 😭 #theherothechampiontheinquisitor #asks #requests #prompts #ironwidow fanfic #tonynat fanfic #tonynat #ironwidow #tony stark #natasha romanoff #marvel #marvel fanfic #my writing #lizzy writes

[lovelyirony]

can i please request 51. “Are you trying to seduce me?” - “Depends. Are you seducible?” for Winter13? Thanks :)

this is an add-on from a previous work I’d done for ironwidow with this same prompt. i decided it would be fun to have a continuation! 

When James had accompanied Natasha, he had just expected to see what appetizers the Carbonell family would offer, stay for a couple of dances, and leave for their country. 

But then Natasha just had to fall in love with Tony and now he’s stuck by the appetizers table. 

That is, until a blonde woman walks up. 

“You’re James, correct?” 

“And you would be?” 

“Sharon Carter,” she says, smiling. “Part of the security detail for the royal family and a little bit of a helper. Couldn’t help but notice that you seemed quite lonely after realizing that you would be here longer than had been anticipated and figured I’d offer you a drink.” 

“I’ll take you up on that,” James answers. “What’s good?” 

“You seem like a simple kinda guy. We have a couple of nice beers on tap and some wine. If I ask real nice, I bet that I could get you some Jack.” 

“They have that here?” James asks, eyebrows raised. 

“The queen is fond of American drinks,” Sharon responds. “We have it around.” 

They sit down at a table, watching Natasha and Tony dance to outside. 

“I think they like each other,” Sharon remarks. “I think it’s a good thing.” 

“Sure,” James says. “She likes the way his pants fit.” 

Sharon laughs out loud, grinning at him. 

“I think you’re a bit different from other royals I’ve talked to. True or false?” 

“Oh definitely false,” James teases, making his voice go dry and austere. “I have the utter respect for my family and want to keep royalty in the family, so to speak, and--” 

“Oh of course Your Majesty,” Sharon adds, giving a low bow. “How ever could I have forgotten? Of course I knew that your infinite wealth that benefits no one but yourself is a legacy!” 

They both laugh at each other, and conversation flows from there. 

James finds out that this Sharon is the one that Steve had trained with for quite some time, and was terrified of. 

“I’m milking that,” Sharon says seriously. “He owes so much.” 

“I’ll help you.” 

Sharon drags James from the party, promising that no one would notice. 

“Tony’s probably going to stare at Natasha until the end of time and Queen Maria has already retired and the guests are clearing out,” Sharon says. “And you need to see the city at night.” 

The city is gorgeous, of course. It helps with Sharon’s little notes about how it was to grow up here. She shows him all the best parks, where food trucks are set up during the weekday, and manages to get him into the art museum. 

“Is this illegal?” He murmurs. 

Sharon grins. 

“Only if we get caught. And besides, it’ll be fine. They know me here. I’m the one who helps test security.” 

James thinks he’s met the coolest woman in the world. He doesn’t even think that, he knows it. 

By the time Natasha is all packed and ready to go and promising to visit and write and they’ll meet within three weeks to discuss dates and get-togethers, James has the number of a beautiful woman in his suitcase and a promise to call. 

He doesn’t tell Natasha, and he’s not sure he’d hear if he told her. She talks about Tony and how handsome he is and how she can’t wait to go back. 

James gets a text from Sharon that is a very complex historical reference to an isolated event from their army in 1944. (Something about a drug supply gone missing and a man going on a one-man mission and succeeding. There’s a reason that they’re known for prowess on the battlefield.) 

He laughs and starts to research her country. 

She visits on a whim once, dropping into the castle and is chatting with one of the event-coordinators, Sam. 

“Shame that you got to her before I did,” Sam says, grinning. “Still not too late to change your mind, sugar.” 

“It’s a shame then for you that she has higher standards,” Bucky comments with a laugh. 

He takes Sharon to launch and leads her around the city, showing her where he and Natasha train and the art projects of the local school children. 

Sharon bursts into laughter as she sees a portrait that a young child, most likely around age four or five, had done. 

“I think this is the most accurate thing I’ve ever seen. I want it framed.” 

A month later, Sharon gets a surprise. 

The image in a gilded frame, and a note. 

Maybe I’ll have to get a portrait of you for me. Guy sure does get lonely without the best girl around. 

Sharon sends him a text. 

haha. nerd. but yes i’ll get u a portrait although can’t promise it is as good as this one. 

Then Natasha and Tony announce their engagement, the world goes crazy, and James gets tied up in internal affairs and debates from the court. 

They don’t see each other in person for about two months, which is far too long. 

James touches down at Sharon’s, and says he wants to sleep for a week. 

So that’s what they do. Not the most conventional date, but it’s far better than getting dressed up for a dinner and being tired the whole way through. 

And Sharon likes waking up next to him. 

- 

James loves his girlfriend. He truly does. Especially when they’re at Tony and Nat’s wedding and she figures out that they both don’t want to be there and can sneak out to the royal gardens. 

He pulls her into a kiss. 

“I’m very grateful to have you in my life.” 

“I know,” Sharon teases. Springtime is beautiful where they’re at; roses bloom all over the place, wildflowers cropping up. 

It’s the perfect time to ask if Sharon would like to maybe make it a bit more permanent. 

Sharon takes one look at the ring and gasps. 

“Oh my god, James...” 

“I wouldn’t be askin’ unless I was absolutely sure,” James says nervously. “And it doesn’t have to be immediately, I just--” 

“It’s perfect,” Sharon says, grinning. “James I wouldn’t care if I was in my pajamas if it meant I got to marry you.” 

#lovelyirony writes #sharonbucky #winter13 #sharon carter #bucky barnes #ironwidow

[marvelsbestsuperheroine]

New York is a Lonely Place

Prompt: I don’t know if you’re writing Ironwidow any longer but I realllyyy wanted to read a period drama with Tony Nat in the 60s or 70s? Or something along that line. Thanks in advance

A/N: Hello, there! I’m so sorry this took me so long. I went on vacation and then I got sick and then I had to catch up with life and then I had to do research because I don’t know much about those decades. This takes place in the early 60s. I hope you like it and apologies once again.

New York City was a lonely place. So many people who didn’t care enough about others to even glance their way, too focused on their own downtrodden-ness. It was the perfect place for a Russian spy to go about her business and follow everyone else’s. 

During the war, Natalia Romanova had not felt the loneliness that others had described in overheard conversations and intercepted communications. She had been in her element, focused, single-minded, content. But then she had come to America. Then something had gone horribly wrong in her mother country. She lost all contact with her superior officer, waited for days, weeks, months. She never heard from him again.

Stranded in a foreign country with no new orders, Natalia continued with her routine. She observed, she followed, she took notes. She filed away all the information she could on her target, waited for the day to be given permission to finish it.

The papers piled up. She bought more filing cabinets. She rented a new apartment. She bought a big storage locker. 

She had been following genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist Tony Stark for 15 years before he finally caught her. And that was only because she let him, so tired was she of this stupid game, of her stupid fixation. She was meant to kill him but she never received the order. She’d been waiting for the right moment, holding out for the faintest sign of Russia trying to contact her. She told herself that that was the reason she had never taken initiative.

But she had always prided herself on not being just a cog in a machine. She wasn’t the machine. She was the whole damn gun and she would fire when it suited her best. Her S.O. had known and understood that. She wondered vaguely what happened to him.

So why was Mr. Stark still alive? She asked herself this question as she stared him right in the eyes, his knife pressed gently against her throat, her back bent over a table in his spacious loft.

“Who are you?” He asked, brows furrowed in confusion and anger. The hand that held the knife was unsteady. She could feel the vibrations against her skin. His other hand had one of her wrists pinned to the table, as if that could stop her. Even that hand was delicate, avoiding putting too much pressure.

“I’m a Russian spy,” she said, plain and simple, in perfect English. No Russian accent.

Stark blinked. “You- you are? I mean- why are you following me?”

Natalia blinked calmly back. “I was waiting for the right moment to kill you. But that moment never came. I have been following you for 15 years. The war is over. We are at peace. You Americans have your own troubles, of course. The drugs, the protests, the conflict in Vietnam. I was supposed to receive an order but something went wrong back home and I lost all communication. The order never came. So I never killed you. But I kept observing, kept waiting. Fifteen years and now we are old and I am tired of waiting.”

Stark blinked again. His skin seemed to drain of colour, his hands shook even more harshly. “Fifteen years... Why so long?”

Natalia shrugged, unconcerned by the knife ready to pierce her veins. “I am a patient woman, Mr. Stark. And besides. I like New York. It is lovely at night. But it is, as they say, a lonely place.”

She couldn’t see his eyes in the dark of night but she could feel the way he shifted his stance, the way his grip on her loosened. “What did you mean to do, when you came into my apartment just now?”

In the adjacent bedroom, the television was still playing, casting its flickering white light and broadcasting static-y music. The Beatles, Natalia figured. She glanced at the doorway. Inside, the large bed was illuminated by the television, glowing like an invitation.

“I came to meet the man I know everything about but have never spoken to,” she replied honestly. “I did not come to kill you, Mr. Stark. I came to you because I have no mission anymore. I have nothing. And as I said: New York is a lonely place.”

Her heartbeat never wavered, never skipped. It pulsed beneath the dull edge of metal twice, thrice, four times. He let go and pulled back, stepped back some more. He looked so awkward, dressed in his pajamas and holding a clean kitchen knife. She almost wished he was still on top of her, still pinning her down.

He set the knife on the counter in the kitchenette, just across the way from her, and turned on the lights. They were bright and harsh. Obviously he did not feel the same.

“Would you... Can I offer you a drink?” His hands fidgeted perpetually, twitching and rubbing and tapping.

She hopped onto one of the bar stools at the island. “Vodka. Please.”

He hesitated, whispered “fuck it” and then proceeded to grab two glasses from the shelf. “Can I at least know your name?”

Now it was her turn to hesitate, but only for half a second. “Natasha. Romanoff.”

If he noticed that her name wasn’t Russian, he didn’t mention it, for which she was grateful. 

“And you know my name.” He popped open a bottle of vodka and poured. “Apparently.” He screwed the lid back on. “So why not kill me? You must’ve had the opportunity sometime in the last 15 years.” He slid a glass to her and then came around the island to sit on the stool beside her.

She shrugged. “I did not see a need to. I know everything about you. Your public face, your private face, your interests, your hobbies, your secrets. I know you fund charities anonymously, which ones and how much. I know you tinker with cars in your many garages. I know exactly how much money you have at the bank, how much you’ve taken out, what you’ve spent it on. I know you see lots of women in lots of places but you are always courteous. I know how good you are in bed, how often you think about sex. I know that despite everything, despite my mission to kill you and despite my breaking into your home, you are thinking about taking me right now, on this counter.”

She watched his adam’s apple bob up and down, heard the squeak of leather beneath his bum as he squirmed beneath her penetrating stare. She watched him throw back his drink, shake his head, sigh, then reach for the bottle to pour a second glass. Natalia downed hers as well and held out her own for a refill.

He obliged. “How did you get in here?”

Avoiding the topic. Alright. She would humour him. For a little while. She had waited this long, what was a little longer?

“Through the window.”

“We’re on the top floor.”

“And?” Now she smirked at him over the rim. When she set the cup down again, it was empty and stained with bright red lipstick.

He eyed it thirstily. “I need better security.”

“You do,” she agreed and poured herself a third.

Not to be outdone by a woman, he chugged his as well.

“If you know me so well then you know my vices,” he said. “My weaknesses.”

“I do.”

“Be honest with me. Did you poison this somehow?”

She chuckled. “No, Mr. Stark. If I were here to kill you, it would be much quicker than that. And less terrifying. For you.”

“Right. Great. Fucking fantastic.” He polished off his third. Or was he on his fourth now? He was losing track.

“I know so much about you,” Natalia continued. “It’s only fair that you know things about me.”

His eyebrows raised and he turned to face her fully. He gestured for her to go on.

“I was born in Stalingrad in 1930. In 1931, my parents died in a house fire. I was given to my uncle, a high-up director in the KGB. He raised me to be the perfect spy, put me through a rigorous training program called The Red Room. I was taught how to manipulate, how to lie, how to kill. At 16 I was the best in the school. They graduated me early and put me in the field. My English was the best so they sent me to America undercover. You were my first and last assignment. I had only been watching you a few weeks when everything went dark. I had no more communication with Russia, not even my uncle. Everything I tried failed. There wasn’t even anything in the news to tell me what might have happened.

“I was a skilled girl but young and naive and without direction. When I wasn’t watching you I was studying you. When I wasn’t studying you I was sleeping. Eventually I knew everything there was to know. That’s when I got sloppy. I ate out. I drank out. I danced. But I never formed connections, never made any commitments. I moved from place to place, worked where I could, stole where I couldn’t. I was never tied down to anything in case I heard word, in case I got the order, in case I needed to go back.

“I have been living in fear of going back, I realize now. I enjoy your music, your fashion, your ways of life. Women are demanding more rights. Men are more carefree. Americans are open-minded, they are passionate, they fight for their rights and the rights of others. I have been following the news and I am most impressed by some of the more political figures. And your sports are enjoyable. And I can watch them on the television. Your country focuses too much on money and is very rowdy, but you are also free in many ways. Emotionally, physically, sexually.”

She placed a hand on his thigh and slid upward. He had been drinking all through her story. She knew he could hold his alcohol but she wondered if he would even be conscious for what happened next.

“I have wanted you for so long.” She climbed into his lap. He did not stop her. Instead, he grabbed her waist and held her there, as if afraid she would fall off, as if afraid for her safety.

“In the Red Room, they also taught us how to please, how to tease, how to make the most of everything. I can make you feel things none of those other women have.” Her voice was a whisper now, a breath on his neck before she placed gentle kisses along the tendons. His head fell back, his mouth fell open. “Would you like that?”

“Y-yeah,” he could only stutter.

She pressed the lightest of kisses at the corner of his mouth. He was still as a statue.

“I will hold you to that.” Then she stepped off of him and back. “Thank you for the drinks.” She left out the front door this time, figuring he wouldn’t make her go out the window.

Tony Stark blinked and she was gone, melted into the shadows and the sound of her heels against his wooden floors echoing in his head.

New York was a lonely place indeed.

#ironwidow #iron man #black widow #tony stark #natasha romanoff #avengers #marvel #fanfiction #prompt #1960s au #mcu

[winteriron-trash]

Ok, so that fanfic questions ask meme? You wanna do ALL OF THEM?!

YES, LET’S DO IT, HERE WE GO, PREPARE YOURSELF I’m copy and pasting answers I’ve already done just so I don’t have to retype them and there’s a break because god this got long. I might link this on my About Me post, cause holy shit I spent time on this

1. What was the first fandom you got involved in?

Actual fandom? Probably DC. That’s when I started reading fanfiction and really poked my head around online communities dedicated to media and all.

2. What is your latest fandom?

I don’t know, probably Marvel? Maybe Riverdale, but I was a fan of the comics before so

3. What is the best fandom you’ve ever been involved in?

If I’m assuming this question is about the actual fandom and not the source material and the people in the fandom and its community as a whole? Probably the Percy Jackson fandom. Not really into it anymore so I don’t know the state of it now, but it was a pretty wholesome and positive community. Any community that calls it’s creator “Uncle Rick” has gotta be pretty dope.

4. Do you regret getting involved in any fandoms?

Oh lord save my soul for admitting I like this, but definitely Five Nights at Freddy’s. The indie gaming, creepypasta, underground subculture as a whole is something I regret getting into. Don’t get me wrong, I usually love the source material, but the fandom is just so bad. You probably know what I’m talking about, the fangirls who insist they’re insane and are in love with Slenderman or something.

But specifically on FNaF, lord, I don’t even know what the fandom is anymore. It’s a meme, a fetish, and a hellspace all at once. And I’m not gonna fucking lie, I’ve been in this hellhole long before any of that. Like, I can’t even try to escape it, I’m in it for the long haul. I was just someone who joined for the lore and now we’re here with fucking casual bongos and trash gang and fuck I didn’t ask for this. I can’t escape. I know so fucking much about the franchise it hurts my fucking soul. I remember when the FNaF 2 trailer came out and we were all micro-analyzing London Bridge Is Falling Down. I remember when Springtrap didn’t have a name and we called that fucking Spring Bonnie or Golden Bonnie. I survived that era and I have PTSD from it, trust me. I remember when we were naive enough to think FNaF 3 was the last game. I know what channels were born and what channels died because of that series. I know it all.

I’m sorry, I got off topic. BUT I DON’T GET TO FUCKING RANT ABOUT IT ENOUGH, FUCKING FUCKSHIT

Oh, and a lot of bandoms I was in too. I went through an alt phase where I’d only listen to shit like BVB, BMTH, MCR, PTV, SWS, and so on. Once again, that sort of fandom was the same as the indie/creepypasta in being ‘different’ and ‘insane’ and all that and I was no different. I was a weird fucking kid when I was like 13. I regret all of it.

5. Which fandoms have your written fanfiction for?

Marvel, DC, and a couple Riverdale. 

6. List your OTP from each fandom you’ve been involved in.

Not in many fandoms but

Marvel - WinterIronDC - SuperbatStar Trek Voyager - Captain Janeway/Seven of NinePercy Jackson - Solangelo

7. List your NoTPs from each fandom you’ve been in.

Marvel - Stucky, Stuckony, Romanogers, Clintasha, any incest ones, (save me for admitting this) SpideypoolDC - Any batboys shipped together, Bruce/Talia

And I don’t really have NOTPs for my other fandoms? Marvel and DC are really the only two things I’m invested in the fandom of. I guess you could count Wincest as well for Supernatural.

8. How did you get involved in your latest fandom?

What even is my latest fandom? Um, we’ll just say Marvel because I’m really not into joining fandoms much anymore. Honestly, I was a big DC fan who felt the need to hate Marvel because no shit. Eventually, I just got sick of the absolute shit movies DC had and I decided I had nothing to lose by just watching Iron Man. When I watched it I realized “wow, superhero movies can actually be good???” and I just binged the entire MCU in one month and was ready to see the next movie in theatres and I think I’ve seen every single MCU movie in theatres since Civil War? Definitely since Homecoming. I gave up on DC movies. The new Aquaman looks like shit, I’m so fucking pissed they redid Mera’s look when she looked perfectly fucking fine before and now she’s oversexualized and it’s gross. I’m excited for the new DC Batwoman TV show because I HAVE BEEN WAITING TO SEE A LIVE ACTION BATWOMAN SINCE THE DAWN OF FUCKING TIME

9. What are the best things about your current fandom?

Probably the Tony Stark Defense Squad. As a collective whole, I think the Defense Squad is one of the sweetest, nicest corners of the fandom. We’re incredibly kind to each other, write great meta and fic, and it’s just a great community. Of course, there are assholes, but you know.

I might get flamed for saying this, but also the HYDRA Trash Party corner of the fandom is actually really nice? Like, they understand consent and abuse aftermath and all the real shit better than the rest of the fandom, not gonna lie. Like, for as dark as the fic is you’d expect the people to be fucking nasties, but I have never met a rude HTP enthusiast. Or even one who’s unaware of how consent and whump work. They’re all very aware and kind. It’s bizarre, considering the source material. They get an awful rep though.

10.  Is there a fandom you read fic from but don’t write in?

Literally any fandom I’m in besides Marvel and DC. I think I wrote like 2 Riverdale fics. Getting into reading fanfic and getting into writing fanfic are two entirely different ballparks. I don’t really read that much fanfic anyway, especially not anymore. I read Marvel and DC, but even then. I think it’s hard because sometimes you can’t switch off the whole ‘reading like a writer’ thing. That’s why I enjoy classic literature. I’m a slut for some good ass prose and symbolism.

11. Who is your current OTP?

WinterIron, of ducking course.

12. Who is your current OT3?

I’m not really a fan of OT3s, to be honest, I find I’m personally pretty weak with writing poly relationships and I don’t really enjoy reading them because one character is usually focused on a lot more than the other two. But if I had to pick, I would say T’Challa/M’Baku/Bucky only because I am solely responsible for the creation of that abomination and you have no idea how much people begged me for a series after the first one, it astounded me.

13. Any NoTPs?

As before listed, Stucky, Stuckony, Spideypool, Clintasha, Romanogers

14. Go on, who are your BroTPs?

IronWidow is my top BroTP, but I also like WinterWidow as a BroTP. Stucky is good as a BroTP too, as well as Tony & Rhodey.

15. Is there an obscure ship which you love?

Literally any ship I have. Yall I’ve been here since WinterIron was obscure. But to name a specific one I’m just gonna go with Pietro/Tony. I don’t know, I just had an idea I was writing for them and I was thinking about how much missed out potential there was between them. And with Pietro as a whole, but you know. Marvel has to kill off the only good Maximoff they had.

Oh, Natasha/Pepper too, but they aren’t as obscure, I guess.

16. Are their any popular ships in your fandom which you dislike?

Stucky, clearly.

17. Who was your first OTP and are they still your favourite?

Stony, and no. They fell apart for me, at least MCU-wise.

18. What ship have you written the most about?

By now, WinterIron, I believe. I recently passed my count of fics for Superbat.

19. Is there a ship which you wished you could get behind, but you just don’t feel them?

Pepperony, probably. I think it’s actually a cute and sweet ship and I like their in-canon moments, but I just can’t get behind reading fanfic of them? It never works out for me, I don’t really get it. It sucks because I do enjoy seeing their cute moments.

20. Any ships which you surprised yourself by liking?

I’ll do a different answer I thought of besides the first time I answered this. But Thruce was a big shocker for me. I didn’t even think about it during Ragnorak but then I saw an incorrect quote for it and I was like? Oh? This? This is a good, pure ship right here. The funny thing is, I actually wrote a fic with them as a side ship long before they hit it big so like, I was shocked when they came out of nowhere. But hey, I’m fucking here for it. I’ll probably never write it, but I’m here for it. 

21. What was the first fanfic you ever wrote?

Goodnight, My Angel. It was a Superbat fic and really sad, but I still love it.

22. Is there anything you regret writing?

Probably... You Deserve Love And You’ll Get It. No, I won’t link it because I hate it that much. I’m not even gonna talk about it.  It’s my most popular fic too why

23. Name a fic you’ve written that you’re especially fond of & explain why you like it.

Super dorky, but The (Un)Wanted Kiss. It’s my first finished chapter fic, and the first chaptered fic I did on Tumblr and it just brings me a lot of nostalgia. It reminds me of where I was as a writer when I started it and it was an entire fic spawned from people wanting more of a simple 500-word prompt and that just blows my mind. It reminds me of the power of fans and how much love and support I got from it. It really kicked me off as a “serious fanfic writer” I think.

24. What fic do you desperately need to rewrite or edit?

All You Are Is All I Need. That is a hot fucking mess. Probably The Red Halo too.

25. What’s your most popular fanfic?

*sigh* You Deserve Love And You’ll Get It

26. How do you come up with your fanfic titles?

I bullshit my way through them. My most recent fics have actually followed a trend of being named after songs.

27. What do you hate more: Coming up with titles or writing summaries?

Summaries. I always make them so fucking corny, I hate it.

28. If someone were to draw a piece of fanart for your story, which story would it be and what would the picture be of?

One Foot In Front Of The Other, probably. Just because I want more fem!WinterIron fanart. I can’t say what scene because spoilers but.... yeah, anything from that would be great, really.

29. Do you have a beta reader? Why/Why not?

Sort of. I make some of my friends like Pizza read over my shit before I post it, but that’s not often, only when I think I need it. I don’t just because I write a lot and I’d feel bad for constantly annoying someone with making them read everything I write. I hate inconveniencing people.

30. What inspires you to write?

The better question is what doesn’t. I never stop thinking like a writer. My brain forgot how to turn off that feature.

31. What’s the nicest thing someone has ever said about your writing?

Ummmm, I can’t think of an exact thing? I get so many beyond sweet comments and messages, it’s hard to pin down one comment. I think if I had to pick, I once got a message from someone on Tumblr who was old enough to be my mother complimenting me and telling me I didn’t write like a teenager and I think that was really sweet.

32. Do you listen to music when you write or does music inspire you? If so, which band or genre of music does it for you?

Yes, yes, yes, yes. And honestly, any genre. I listen to everything. Everything. But specifically, Emilie Autumn has inspired a lot ideas/fics I’ve written.

33. Do you write oneshots, multi-chapter fics or huuuuuge epics?

All of the above.

34. What’s the word count on your longest fic?

Around 23k, I think?

35. Do you write drabbles? If so, what do you normally write them about?

Yes, and whatever I get prompted for, really.

36. What’s your favourite genre to write?

For fanfiction, I guess romance? I mean, that’s really all my fanfiction is. Otherwise, I’ll write quite literally any genre I feel like. I go wherever an idea takes me. I’m character based, not genre or plot based.

37. First person or third person - what do you write in and why?

Third. I fucking despise 1st person. I just do. That’s an entire rant we ain’t here for today.

38. Do you use established canon characters or do you create OCs?

Usually canon characters. I only use an OC when I absolutely have to, to make the plot do the plot stuff.

39. What is you greatest strength as a writer?

Nothing. My writing sucks. All of it is shit.

40. What do you struggle the most with in your writing?

Everything. I screech the most about pacing and sentence structures though.

41. List and link to 5 fanfics you are currently reading:

Most of these are actually on my to-read list but whatever.

Winter's End by ali_aliska Winter is Coming (aka Fifty First Avengers Dates) by 27dragons, tisfan My Love is Vengeance by seikaitsukimizu The caged Hawk by asamandra Fertile Ground by 27dragons, tisfan

42. List and link to 5 fanfiction authors who are amazing:

27dragons tisfanChiaki_Hamano arianapeterson19 thepartyresponsible

43. Is there anyone in your fandom who really inspires you?

Not really? I’m not knocking any of the other ‘big names’ in the Marvel fandom, but I don’t really draw inspiration from other fanfic writers. Not for plot, and definitely not for writing style. I get inspiration from fanart I see sometimes, but it’s never one main artist who I stalk to be inspired, just whatever I happen across online.

44. What ship do you feel needs more attention?

WinterIron, duh. I will not rest until WinterIron is the biggest ship in the Marvel fandom.

45. What is your all time favourite fanfic?

I’ve mentioned this fic before and honestly, it hasn’t been topped yet, but  In the Company of Monsters by Chiaki_Hamano. It’s not even a Marvel fic, and it’s not even a ship I like, but god, I fucking adore it. I’d love to write something like it, but with WinterIron if I had the time, I think the entire world and setting would fit WinterIron beautifully.

46. If someone was to read one of your fanfics, which fic would you recommend to them and why?

Well, that all depends on what they’re looking for in my fanfiction. If they’re looking for WinterIron, I’d probably tell them to start with The (Un)Wanted Kiss just because that’s one of my most loved fics and I think I did really well with it. But if they just want a general fic, A Great Connection is one I’m really proud of and I still get gushing feedback about.

47. Archive Of Our Own, Fanfiction.net or Tumblr - where do you prefer to post and why?

For just writing fanfic, Ao3. Tumblr can be a pain in the ass, and I don’t even use ff.net.

48. Do you leave reviews when you read fanfiction? Why/Why not?

Yes. But only if 1, I really, really loved it or 2, I don’t think the fic has enough attention. It also helps if the writer responds to comments. I don’t see the significance of saying “I loved this!” if the fic has dozens of other comments saying the same thing. As a writer, I know what comments writers prefer. Longer ones, deep comments pointing out what things they liked, and so on. However if I write a comment that long, I like to get a response because you know, I love seeing the writer talking about the elements of the story I liked. 

49. Do you care if people comment/reblog your writing? Why/why not?

Not really, to be perfectly honest. Yes, I love and cherish every kudos and note I get, and the sweet comments make me want to die of joy. But I write for me. Even when I take prompts, in the end, I write because it makes me happy. Yes, I love the validation. But even without it, I would still write. I do not write fanfiction for you, I share fanfiction with you. There’s a difference. Writing makes me happy. If I only cared about the validation, I wouldn’t have a folder reserved of fics I’ll never post but I wrote just because I wanted to. I write to write. The moment I start writing for validation, I might as well stop writing, because it’s not worth it.

50. How did you get into reading and/or writing fanfiction?

Ummmm I think I was just curious? I was new to internet culture, I saw fanart of Superbat and I discovered Ao3 and was like “wow, this stuff exists??? Words for free????? About my favourite characters being happy and dating each other??????????” and it was a downward spiral. I was like, 11 when I read my first fanfiction. I was obsessed with Superbat fanart, and I thought, what would it hurt to try actually reading it? Like, that was so taboo to me. And now we’re here. Tadaaaaaah

51. Rant or Gush about one thing you love or hate in the world of fanfiction! Go!

Oh, a chance to ramble. Yay. I’m gonna rant because I’m a rant-y person.

I think something that annoys me about fanfiction is not necessarily a probably within fanfiction, but rather the outward view of it. Fanfic has an awful rep within the real world. The one-time fanfiction really took centre stage was when Fifty Shades came out, which only hurt the platform by furthering the stereotype that it’s all porn made for horny freaks who just want to get off.

I should not be ashamed to say I write fanfiction. I should not feel childish saying it to myself. No one should. At least half of my ‘fans’ are nearly a decade or more older than me. It’s clearly not something that’s immature or silly. Of course, it can be, but any hobby can be dumbed down to a kiddy version.

But fanfiction at its core is ignored for what it really is. When adults talk about fanfiction they belittle it and only see a tiny subsection of it, ignoring what it’s supposed to be about. It’s about creating transformative works for media you’re passionate about.

Fanfiction gets a worse rep than other transformative works such as fanart or whatever. Writing as a whole does. Fanfic is painted as this utter trash.

I’ve read fanfiction that made me cry, laugh, feel shit. I’ve read fanfiction that tackled heavy topics. Even on a sexual standpoint, I’ve read fanfiction that was willing to write erotica that published authors wouldn’t fucking touch. Both in a kink sense, but also in terms of how the relationship functions. I’ve read shitty fanfictions, sure. But I’ve read fanfictions that were better than 90% of the published books I’ve read. Even fanfics I didn’t like.

To put fanfiction into perspective, the average YA novel (the age group fanfiction is generally but not always aimed at) is 70k words. I’ve read fanfiction that blows that word count out of the water. And it takes fucking skill to write something that long. It’s not just writing a bunch of porn or cute scenes, that takes serious world building and character arcs.

Fanfiction kills so many tropes that are common in YA and literature in general. I read a YA after reading nothing but fanfiction for a long time and I was fucking appalled? It was a popular YA too. I won’t name what one because you could literally imagine anyone and it’d probably fit. The characters were flat, the romance was outright manipulative and toxic, the plot was dull, even the writing itself was bland. This was the type of book years ago I would’ve loved. But compared to most (of course, not all. Shit exists, but I think in fanfiction, we’re able to better filter out the shit) fanfictions, it was fucking trash.

When I started reading fanfiction, I assumed it’d lower my standards. The first time I picked up an actual novel I was relieved, excited to not have to deal with the problems that are in unpublished writings. But I quickly realized it was the complete opposite. Fanfiction threw my expectations through the roof. I expect fiction to include representation, fresh plots, interesting characters, thrilling romances, and decent fucking sex scenes if they’re there. But it just wasn’t there. It all fell flat. As someone seriously into the writing and reading community I hear so often that it’s hard for plots to be original and you shouldn’t judge on originality, but then I read fanfiction written by fucking teenagers that’s fucking mind-blowing with plot twists and original ideas, and I have to wonder is it really that hard? It’s clearly doable, you just have to take away the fanfiction part.

I have YA novels sitting on my sheld I know I’ll never read and enjoy because fanfiction just made my expectations too high. Which is good in a sense because I pray some of these amazing writers, when they get older will go on to write mind-blowing original novels and I hope that this generation of writers will put out great literature in ten to fifteen years, but for now I’m just… underwhelmed. I think it’s why I read a lot of classic literature too. Shit was better back then.

And yet despite all that, fanfiction is still made to look like shit in the modern media. It sucks so badly for fanfiction writers not to look like serious writers. I could publish one book, have it get the amount of attention my biggest fanfic got and be considered a serious author. My biggest fanfiction currently has 40k notes on Tumblr. Imagine if that were a published short story. It’d be a fucking hit. And there are others that make my numbers look small. And yet it’s brushed aside as unimpactful.

I think a lot of that stems from the fact that fanfic writers do generally start out younger. I’m 16. Others either are or were my age. But age does not equate to skill in writing. Sure, that is a factor, but it is not the entire story. I know a 14 yr old who writes some of the best prose I have ever seen. And even if younger fic writers aren’t on level yet, fanfiction is what’s helping them grow as a writer. But because we’re teenagers, we’re turned away just because of that. Even more specifically because we’re teenage girls (for the most part, I’m not saying other genders and/or age groups aren’t writing/reading fanfic) and we all know how society feels about them. It’s just a fucking shame that fanfiction can’t be respected for the legitimate form of writing it is because of the stigma. I’ve seen fanfic writers say they aren’t real writers because of the stigma, it’s awful. We feel the need to tear ourselves down for an admirable hobby. I can’t say my favourite book is a fanfiction I read, when I has every right to be a valid answer.

We’ll cut this ramble off here because wow I really went on didn’t I.

[katebishopofearth]

sweet

kiss 31. A kiss that tastes of the food/dessert they are eating

written for the 50 ironwidow kisses prompts [completed prompts here]

………

Natasha got home later than she wanted to. When the meeting at SHIELD droned on with no end, she had texted Tony telling him not to wait for her for dinner. They didn’t always have dinner together, due to both of their work schedules, so this was nothing unusual. But still, Natasha had been  looking forward to starting the weekend with one of her boyfriend’s home cooked meals.

She texted Tony when she was finally free. “On my way home. May and I would murder Coulson if he went on for any longer. Fuck the consequences."

When Natasha got back to their apartment in Avengers Tower, she was greeted by a delicious smell. She hoped that Tony wasn’t only just starting to cook, as it was late. He sometimes forgot his meals, though he had improved by miles since they first started dating. “Babe?” Natasha called through the empty apartment.

There was no reply, so she followed the sweet aroma to the open kitchen. Tony was standing at the sink with his back to her, washing the dishes. His headphones were in his ears and he hummed along to something jazzy under his breath.

On a good day Natasha would have wrapped her arms around him from behind or pecked his cheek. Tonight, however, she was too tired to do that. So she simply muttered a “hey,” as she sat down on one of the bar stools.

Tony whirled around. “Hey! You’re home!” His face lit up in childlike glee.

Natasha managed a smile for him.

Tony’s forehead crinkled. “Rough day at work?”

Natasha leaned her elbows on the island counter and pressed the balls of her palms against her temples. “I just had Fury yell at me for two hours for fucking up a mission. That’s fine, I own my fuck-ups. But he seemed so intent on torturing me that he had Coulson debrief us for another three hours with this way-too-detailed plan and about a thousand follow-up items. It’s a slow, drawn out death.”

“Poor baby.” Tony came to stand behind her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and kneaded at the knots with deft fingers. Natasha groaned appreciatively as he rubbed the tension out of her shoulders. “I’d offer to talk to Fury but I don’t think it’s my place?” He made it a question.

Natasha tilted her head back to look at him. “That’s sweet, Tony, but no it’s not.”

“Okay.” Tony shrugged. “I figured as much. So I did the next best thing.” He flitted away from her.

“Oh?” Dread pooled in Natasha’s stomach. Her boyfriend always meant well but didn’t always know where to draw the line. He forgot that there were some battles she had to fight on her own.

Tony bent down to the oven and pulled out a cake. “Cinnamon and apple,” he announced proudly. "Your favourite.”

[continue reading on AO3]

#blargh #i hate it don't touch me #my fanfic #my writing #tonynat fanfic #ironwidow fanfic #marvel fanfic #tonynat #ironwidow #tony stark #natasha romanoff #marvel #fanfic #writing

[queeenpersephone]

Hey, could you please write an Ironwidow fic with this prompt? Prompt: Natasha has always been the best at everything since her days at the red room, only... feelings are not her thing. So when she starts to notice that she's developing feelings for Tony she tries to show him in ways that make everyone in the tower think that she's acting really weird and confuses Tony about her constant presence and increased closeness and physical contact.

Omggg anon so I love this prompt sorry it’s taken me so long! I’m graduating university in a month and so I’ve been losing my mind haha.

-

“Sir, Agent Romanoff is here to see you.”

Tony jerks awake, immediately trying to catch all the various wretches and bolts that his arms had knocked off the table. The lab is dark, and he knows he must’ve fallen asleep against his will, not for the first time and certainly not for the last.

“Should I allow her entrance?”

Tony waves a hand at the ceiling, rubbing his eyes and stretching. “Yeah, J, why not?” The door slides open. “It’s not like she’d leave me alone if I said no,” he says loudly, laying his head back on the table.

Very characteristically, he doesn’t hear Natasha until she is right next to him. After a long two minutes of her not saying anything, he raises his head, trying to focus on her with bleary eyes.

When he does, he stands so quickly that his stool falls over. “What is it?” He asks urgently. Because Natasha, in all honesty, looks extremely freaked out.

Oh, it’s not that it’s obvious. Her expression is stoic, her eyebrows raised, and her posture relaxed. But Tony has been living with this woman upwards of seven months now, and he can tell by the look in her eye that something has her very off-balance. It’s not a feeling or understanding that he can explain without admitting to himself that he watches her. A lot. More than is appropriate.

Natasha stares back at him, obviously warring with herself on what to say. When she does speak, there is nothing of the usual Natasha in it - smooth and careful, with a soft smirk that makes them all uncertain that she’s saying what she means.

“You’re out of shape.”

The words are abrupt, delivered with little to no emotion.

“Meet me in the training room tomorrow,” she adds, her arms crossed tightly across her chest.

Tony just gapes at her. “I-“ he tries, but Natasha has already turned to leave.

Just as her hair flashes to disappear around the corner, she lobs something at him. He catches it against his chest as a reflex.

“Don’t order pizza tonight,” she calls, and he hears the elevator doors close behind her.

Tony holds out the item she threw in front of him. It is a brown paper bag, and inside is a neatly prepared salad.

What the actual fuck?

-

2 months later

“Cap, you gotta help me.”

Steve looks up from his book on the Vietnam War, uncrossing his legs and sitting up. “What can I do for you, Tony?”

Tony paces back and forth in front of Steve, who is patiently waiting for him to speak in a wholesome way only Captain America can. He doesn’t particularly want to break Natasha’s confidence, and he’s honestly enjoying spending more time with her. But she’s been killing him in the gym, leaving him healthy snacks and downloading wellness apps into JARVIS’ system, and refusing any attempt from him to reciprocate her gifts. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so confused in his life.

“Okay, I’m just gonna get straight to it,” Tony replies, ignoring Steve’s raised eyebrow clearly saying ‘when do you not?’. “Nat’s really freaking me out.”

Steve looks up at him, bemused. “Sit down, Tony,” he says, waiting for Tony to settle himself on the couch. He is still twitching, unable to sit still. “Now, explain.”

Tony does, detailing early morning workouts and careful pats of encouragement on the shoulder, salads and almonds randomly appearing in his lab, the lights shutting out at 1am - obviously Natasha and JARVIS conspiring.

When he finishes, Steve waits for a long moment before responding. “Yeah, we’ve noticed that Nat’s been working with you - and before now, I honestly wouldn’t have thought it bothered you. What else is up?”

Tony furrows his brow. “Okay, hold up Cap, you’re observant and everything but-“ then, he winces, looking up at the vents. “Okay, Legolas, game’s up,” he says, not even raising his voice a little, and Clint drops from the ceiling with a shrug.

Steve, on the other hand, looks sheepish. “Look, I was… concerned about you and Romanoff. After HYDRA and the Mandarin - I wanted to make sure it wasn’t some-“

Tony cuts him off. “Wasn’t some what? We’re just friends! Not even that some days - she’s just making sure I don’t die or, y’know, disappoint the team with my slow reactions.”

Clint snorts. “Yeah? Then why did you buy her front row seats to the opera?”

Tony turns red. “I - she’s been working with me, even if she hates it- and I just really wanted to do something for her. I mean, we were talking during training and she’s been through a lot.”

Clint is unfazed. “Yeah, okay, makes sense. Friends do that. Now, why did you buy her a house upstate?”

Steve whips his head to look at Tony so quickly that he nearly falls off the couch. “You bought her a what?”

Tony puts his hands up, refusing to meet their eyes. “Look, she needs a safe place! This is my house, and the rest of her places are for covers. I just- I wanted her to have a place that belonged just to her.” Steve just gapes at him, but Clint can’t help the smile forming across his face. “It doesn’t matter anyways,” he admits, leaning back against the couch. “She told me she didn’t want it.” He rubs his eyes, leaving his hand there to block whatever their expressions have become. “She’s giving me a lot, y’know? She’s helped me with nightmares and I feel stronger - and I shouldn’t even tell you guys this but… I like her, okay? I really like her. And she’s just being a good teammate.”

He takes his hand off his eyes and immediately registers the looks of horror on both their faces. “Oh Jesus,” he groans, “why are you guys upset? Is this an age-thing? She’s only ten years younger than me! And it’s never gonna happen, it’s not feas-“

A soft voice interrupts him from the door. “Tony,” it says, surprised and maybe - nervous?

Steve and Clint shoot to their feet, and Tony realizes they hadn’t been horrified at his feelings, but at him accidentally revealing them while Natasha stood silently behind him.

Oh god, just kill him now.

“We’re gonna go,” Clint says, grabbing Steve by the arm and almost dragging him out of the room. Natasha and Tony watch them go, making sure the door is shut before she turns back to him.

“Any chance we can just - forget I said any of that and go back to normal?” Tony tries.

“I like normal,” Natasha says slowly. “But I’m not sure I can forget,” she admits.

Tony puts his head in his hands, leaning over. He feels like he’s going to be sick. “You can go, Romanoff. I know you want to.” Everyone does, he doesn’t add; it’s not fair to her.

He hears a sigh, then he feels her crouch down in front of him, laying a hand on his knee. “In the Red Room,” she begins, hesitant. “We weren’t allowed to show emotions. We didn’t know what love was.” He takes a hand from his head to squeeze hers, unwilling to leave her without comfort yet still unwilling to look at her. “I know how to seduce men,” she admits, and he flinches. “I don’t say that to hurt you,” she adds quickly. “I just mean - making sure you stay alive and healthy, I can do that. I knew how to do that.”

Tony isn’t stupid, and her words cause hope to unfurl in his chest. “My gifts…”

Natasha is quick to respond. “I didn’t want you to think I was doing it for favors. That’s all it’s ever been for me, and I wanted this to be different.”

“But you actually do-“

“Yeah,” Natasha interrupts. “I do. Tony, could you look at me?”

He gathers his courage and meets her eyes, surprised and thrilled to see them shining. “You know,” he drawls. “You could’ve just held my hand instead of kicking my ass every morning.”

She nods to their joined hands. “The ass kicking isn’t going to stop, no matter what,” she warns him, and he laughs, sliding a hand around her waist and the other in her hair, pulling her up to press their foreheads together.

“I’m not going to another ass-kicking session unless I get a kiss,” he teases, freezing when he feels her tense in his arms. “Oh, I mean, unless I’ve read this completely wrong in which case, feel free to kick my ass Nat, I’m sorry-“

Natasha unfreezes at his rambling, smiling so wide that he nearly doesn’t recognize her. “I’m not,” she says blithely, pulling herself up to straddle his lap and pressing her lips to his.

-

Clint and Steve sit in the kitchen, waiting to find out whether they need to break out the champagne or the ice cream. When neither Tony nor Natasha come out of the lounge, they relax; everything must be going well.

Clint laughs. “You know, Nat’s not well versed in relationships, but I thought she’d be able to woo Tony better than this.”

Steve smirks at him. “I might’ve told her that Tony appreciates someone taking care of him… and likes a woman who can overpower him physically.”

Clint gapes at Steve. “Dude, I underestimated you.” He pauses for a long minute. “Although I think it backfired if your intent was to fuck with them.”

Steve shrugs. “Who says that was my intent? Tony wasn’t doing too well after the Mandarin, and he’s always liked Nat more than he admits. Nat needs someone to call home, and Tony’s exactly her type. I think they needed each other.”

Clint’s eyes widen even further. “Damn, Cap, you’re like a mastermind.”

Steve winks at him. “Well, I am the leader of the Avengers.”

“Captain Rogers, as per usual, Mr. Stark would like me to remind you that you are correct, but without him, and I quote ‘none of you would look cool’.” JARVIS pauses. “Actually, Captain, Mr. Stark wishes for me to tell you, for a full 24 hours, you may be the leader of the Avengers unconditionally. He reminds you to enjoy it.”

Steve laughs. “I got you together - I can break you apart!” He shouts to the lounge.

Natasha steps out, pulling Tony by the hand to the elevator. She throw a wink to the boys as Tony rushes to catch her, slinging an arm around her waist. “Get your own smoking hot assassin, Cap. This one’s mine.”

#ironwidow #natasha x tony #marvel #marvel writing #my writing #ironwidow fic #prompts #answered #you guys can send me these any time! #hope you like it! #natashastarkotp #the-writing-asexual #myedit #natasha romanoff #tony stark

[marvelsbestsuperheroine]

IronWidow Request - Fire

Words: 2,311

Rating: Teen

Prompt: Hey I just saw your ironwidow request and I LOVED IT so if you wouldn’t mind making another one with the prompt “You come to my room and wake me up at 4am, to cuddle?” it would be awesomeeee ️️

A/N. Thanks to @natashastarkotp​ for the prompt :) It’s perhaps not as light a tone as I was aiming for but I hope you enjoy it anyway. 

Fire. It licks. It burns. It devours. Red as Natasha’s lips. Orange as Pepper’s hair. Yellow as Maya’s nails, the night she kissed him. Kissed by fire, all of them in different ways. Maya was dead. Pepper was burned. And Natasha...

She was screaming. The same sound that tore open her throat tore apart Tony’s ears. It reverberated off every wall, the flames amplifying it. Her words were gibberish but he knew what she was saying.

You, Tony. You did this. This is your fault. You did this.

The Mandarin rose from the ashes of her corpse like a phoenix. His robes glowed, engulfed in flames that didn’t seem to touch him. His green hood covered the top of his face, the shadow covering the rest. Whoever was in there, it was not Trevor Slattery.

Tony was dying. It was sweltering where they were. He had no clue where that was; the flames were too high. He felt like he was drowning in a hot tub with a twist: the water was his own sweat. Another twist: he could smell charred flesh.

“TONY!”

Air. He needed air like fire needed oxygen. No. No, wait. Not like that. Not like that at all. Horrible simile. Horrible. Tony sat there, on the edge of his bed, gasping for breath, contemplating similes with his eyes squeezed shut. He could feel sweat beading on his forehead, down the nape of his neck, across the hairs of his arms. He scraped it away with calloused hands and dirty fingernails, trying not to drown in the salt of it.

He stood way too soon, the world swaying like a boat and stop thinking about drowning. He went down hard, shoulder taking the brunt of the fall. Carpet. His room was carpeted. Right. Groaning, he rolled over and pushed himself up, up. He no longer felt like he was on a pirate ship or being burned at the stake. Both good things. Not the things themselves but the feeling of not being either of those things. That was good.

Whatever.

Tony lunged for the glass of water and raised it to his lips. Shaky hands spilled drops all over his toes. They seemed to sizzle like they were drops of grease dripped onto a pan. He downed the whole thing in seconds, thunking it back down on the dresser, next to the photo of Pepper she’d submitted as her headshot all those years ago, back when he asked all of his female employees to submit photos of themselves when they applied.

God, he’d been such an ass then.

He walked past the picture frame and towards the door, for once not the bathroom door or the closet one. The bedroom door slid open for him automatically and he stumbled through, his eyes finally adjusting to the darkness. The hallway was colder, the floor made of polished hardwood that never creaked. It cooled his bare feet as he padded from floorboard to floorboard, passing door after door.

Avengers Tower was massive but most of the floors consisted of work areas for his Manhattan-based employees. Only the top ten levels were dedicated to the Avengers. Each member had their own floor and there were only six of them. After “the Hydra debacle”, Rogers and Romanoff had needed a place to lay low. They were both fugitives, running from the law. Tony, fresh off the experience that was “the Mandarin incident” had graciously offered them a place to stay - with him.

Malibu house destroyed, girlfriend moved out, Tony had had nowhere else to go. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He was rich beyond Bill Gates’ wildest dreams. Tony could’ve gone anywhere.

But he came here.

In the end, everyone did.

Thor lived primarily on Asgard but after reuniting with Jane during “the Greenwich affair”, he came and went to and from Earth and Asgard as he pleased. While it was true that he spent most of his time with Jane in Europe or travelling around, whenever he visited or accompanied the Avengers on missions he would always retire to the Tower. Tony felt absurdly proud of that fact.

Bruce also had nowhere to go, was also running from the law just like Rogers. Well, not just like Rogers. Bruce was running for an entirely a different reason - a big, green reason. Although, now that Tony thought about it, Bruce - like Tony - could go anywhere too; not because he had endless money but because he had none. He could go anywhere, be anyone, earn new money, make a new life. But they both knew that he couldn’t run forever. Eventually, his past would catch up to him or General Ross. Or the Hulk might decide one day that he didn’t want to be kept dormant for the rest of his life.

No, it was best here, in the Tower - safest.

Tony liked to fool himself sometimes that Bruce stayed for Tony’s company.

Barton was the only one who stayed as far from the Tower as possible. Besides Romanoff, Barton was the most mysterious Avenger, always keeping to himself and taking secret phone calls and never staying the night unless he would pass out in the pilot’s seat otherwise. He had a room but it was bare, filled with things Tony had put there. Pepper had been the one who was good at home decor, not him. With her stupid art collections and centrepieces and whatever.

At present, there were four other Avengers in the Tower. Thor was here because they’d recently discovered Loki’s sceptre was in the clutches of Hydra. They were set to go on a mission to Germany in the morning to retrieve it. Clint had said that he would meet them at the Tower bright and early.

At present, there were four other Avengers in the Tower. Yet Tony felt alone.

He found himself at her door, not quite remembering the elevator ride and the walk down the hallway to get here. There was a sign that read “Enter at own risk” that Clint had left there because he thought it was funny. It hung at eye-level next to the door. Tony never asked Natasha why she kept it there.

The door opened for him with a whoosh and he stepped inside, toes curling in the carpet. He still felt overly hot from his dream but at least he didn’t feel like the world was burning around him anymore.

Well, not as much, anyway.

She was curled on her side, occupying the top left corner of the bed, hair as red as blood splayed out on the silk pillows she kept. It was dark still but he liked to think he had fairly good night vision. He loved looking at her in the dark. It wasn’t some twisted insult; it was because she let her guard down more when she thought that people were less likely to see her face.

But Tony saw.

In her sleep, Natasha was peaceful. Breathing softly, deeply, eyelashes fluttering. Tony gently slid under the covers next to her, trying hard not to shift the mattress too much and risk waking her.

He needn’t have bothered.

She rolled over, awake as if she hadn’t been in deep sleep just moments ago. The only sign that she had been at all was her eyes squinting as they adjusted.

“Sorry,” he whispered, not really sure why he was whispering when there was no one else to hear them.

“Don’t be,” she said and shifted, the blankets rustling. She pulled one knee under her and slid the other over his midsection. Her cold hands relieved some of the heat from his face, his jaw, his neck. Even her feet were cold, her toenails softly scratching at his calves.

He groaned, wondering how his hands were already sliding up her spine beneath her flimsy camisole. “Tash,” he breathed. She was sucking on his neck, rocking her hips back and forth. “Nat.”

It wasn’t until she noticed that her efforts weren’t getting their usual physical reaction that she paused to look at him, their noses a hair’s breadth apart. She looked like a cyclops this close up. He secretly loved going cross-eyed like this. It was the silliest face she’d ever made - unintentionally or not - and he treasured moments like those.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice was rough and dry and she swallowed to moisten it. He reached over to her side of the bed and grabbed the water bottle from the nightstand. She accepted it gratefully, pushing off of him to sit up. The covers fell around her like a halo. “What’s wrong?” She asked again, screwing the cap shut and replacing the bottle.

“I just...” He shrugged, staring at her duvet that looked so much like fluffy clouds.

She waited patiently, not quite staring but not avoiding him entirely either. He loved her for that, though neither of them had ever said the “L” word aloud. This “relationship” they had, if it could even be called that, was still new. It had started with a fight. Before this, there was that.

That could only be described as active animosity. Tony and Natasha hadn’t liked each other. The whole “Natalie” thing had broken any trust between them and it had never really been built back up. Sure, they fought side by side against aliens and Hydra goons and bad guys but trust in the field was different from trust in a friend. Tony had friends. He knew what friendship was supposed to feel like. Whatever he had with Natasha was not it. Even Steve had a better relationship with Tony than Natasha did and Steve and Tony bickered and fought regularly.

They barely acknowledged each other’s presence, truth be told. Nat and Steve were besties and Nat and Clint were also besties. Tony and Bruce were science bros and Tony and Steve bros of another kind. Nat and Tony shared a team but not each other.

Until Yinsen came up.

Yinsen was a very sore subject for Tony and when Romanoff had spoken of him with such blatant disregard and - dare he say - disrespect, Tony wasn’t having it. There were other factors too, as was the way the world worked. She had just come back from a failed mission with a long list of casualties. He had just gotten off the phone with Pepper to sign over his company to her and basically finalize their breakup.

In short, between Stark and Romanoff there had been yelling and flailing and the breaking of things in the room. Then they were kissing, shoving, pulling, teeth gnashing and hair tugging and stumbling into chairs, walls, doors. She was all nails and teeth and lips. He was an iron grip and tongue and deep, throaty moans.

Like mature adults, they’d said nothing afterward. Only collected their clothes and the broken pieces of the decor they’d shattered and went their separate ways.

But it was hard to avoid someone who lived in the same building as you, as large as that building may be. They ran into each other often but never mentioned it.

The next time it happened, Natasha sought him out. She found him in his workshop, greasy and oily and sweaty, dressed in a muscle shirt and ratty jeans. Despite the dangerous tools in his hands and the safety goggles stuck to his forehead, she attacked him. Grabbed his face and yanked it to hers, shoving them both toward the work table. He ended up taking her right there, knocking everything else aside, scattering papers, and turning on drills to mask their obscene noises.

It happened again and again, an unhealthy catharsis of passionate, aggressive fucking. When either of them needed to blow off steam they would seek the other out. It was a mutual agreement made with no words, sealed only with kisses and gasps and screams.

So when he sneaked into her bedroom tonight, she had expected nothing less. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence at this hour. They were both haunted by ghosts, both steeped in regrets like tea in a kettle that had no heat limit. The kettle just kept whistling, kept getting hotter and hotter and hotter.

But Tony didn’t want hot right now. Not after that fiery hell of a dream.

He licked his chapped lips. “Can we just... lie here?”

She blinked, her expression hard to read. He interpreted it as ‘surprise’ but really he was just guessing. The Black Widow was a mask, always. The truth is a matter of circumstance.

“Alright.” She lay back down next to him, several inches between their shoulders as they stared up at the ceiling. They never did this; never lingered. It was always quick and hard and then gone as if it had never happened. They didn’t cuddle or talk or sleep. Just sex.

So needless to say, this was a little awkward.

“I’m sorry,” he said, getting up. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

Nat sat up too and reached for his shoulder, anchoring him despite how gentle her touch was. “Tony.” She rarely used his first name, rarely said it with that tone, whatever tone it was. It was something like sympathy, maybe kindness. That’s what he wanted to believe. “Stay.”

He did.

They eventually ate up the distance between them. Somehow they ended up cuddling, with her head on his chest and his arms wrapped snugly around her. It was too quiet for sleep.

“You come to my room and wake me up at 4 am... to cuddle?” She said suddenly, something like a smile to her words.

Teasing. She’s teasing. Tony found himself smiling too. “Should I not?”

She nuzzled his ribs and squeezed him tighter. “No, you should. I... I like this.”

Tony and Natasha weren’t the touchy-feely types. But they were content to lie together and let their togetherness ward away the nightmares.

#ironwidow #tony stark #natasha romanoff #iron man #black widow #marvel #mcu #fanfiction #prompt #cuddles #hurt and comfort