• Published:May 21st, 2008
• Comments:3 Comments
• Category:Fan Fiction, Movies

While the recent Iron Man movie gave the world a Robert Downey Jr who has regained his hotness, it also inspired plenty of fanfiction:

Monday, Monday

“Dr Doom does not schedule appointments!” says Dr Doom. “I demand to see Mr Stark at my convenience!”
Pepper tries to inject some semblance of civility into the conversation, knowing as she does so that her efforts will be in vain, that her life is now too ridiculous to be saved.
“I’m very sorry, Mr von Doom–”
“I am Dr Doom!”
”Dr Doom,” she says, with all the dignity she can muster. “But Mr Stark is not in the office at this time. He is a very busy man with a very full–”
“Pah!” says Dr Doom, his contempt audible through the static. “A paltry excuse befitting a man of such cowardice.”
He settles for the 5:30PM slot and hangs up with an ominous cry of, “Your assistance will not so quickly escape my memory, but so, too, shall Dr Doom remember your defiance. Good day, Miss Potts!”

Nothing Tylenol Won’t Fix

It was difficult, very bad to her nails, somewhat embarrassing, and, she had to admit to herself, also quite hot.

Hot? Goodness, where did that come from? She shook her head and returned her attention to the armored shoulder she was working on.

There was so little space that her face almost touched the armor, and her knees rested against his thigh. He was drenched in sweat, the armor dented and cracked, there was blood on him… She must be out of her mind to think there was anything “hot” in working on getting him out of the suit. Then again, he was doing his best to keep her distracted.

“That’s it, Pepper, yeah, just like that, a little more, come on… Yes!” he muttered, his lips so close to her ear that she could feel his breath.

Change of Heart

“Can I interest you in a dance, Ms. Scott?” Tony asked, turning his mahogany eyes back on Lilly.

“I don’t know, Mr. Stark. I’ve heard stories about you. Some that give you an ill reputation concerning women,” Lilly responded smartly, immediately wincing inwardly as she hoped that comment didn’t sound as caustic as she thought it might. Despite her jangling nerves and her insistent inner yearning to dance, touch, do the unthinkable with this man, she was determined to keep poised and protect herself.

“Do you really believe everything people tell you? And please, call me Tony,” he said again, flashing another dazzling smile. Then before she knew what was happening, her drink was suddenly gone from her hand and Tony was leading her out onto the dance floor. A slow song was playing so Tony reached an ideal spot then turned and pulled her close to him, resting one hand primly on her waist, and offering her the other.

“I don’t bite, I promise,” Tony reassured when Lilly hesitated in taking his hand, even though the grin he was giving her suggested exactly the opposite. She glanced into his eyes, still unsure, but slowly placed one hand on his shoulder and her other hand neatly in his offered one. Once they assumed the position, they began to sway back and forth in time with the music, their bodies separated by a few inches that Lilly made sure was always maintained.

“So, Ms. Scott, what is it that you do?” Tony asked in a low voice. With his mouth placed right next to her ear, Lilly shivered ever so slightly at the warm breath of air his words sent past.

“I’m a neurosurgeon,” she answered plainly, readjusting her fingers in Tony’s hand. She felt Tony pull back and look at her oddly. She met his gaze and chuckled.

Yes, Virginia, There Really Is An Iron Man

Pepper didn’t dare breathe for almost a full minute until Tony shifted beside her and dragged his aching left hand down into her hair.

“You’re going to turn purple,” he commented.

Pepper breathed in through her nose. Mistake number one.

She was immediately submersed in Tony’s very masculine smell—motor oil, clean shampoo and aftershave.

He tightened his arm around her waist unconsciously as she tipped her head further into his palm. He couldn’t stop his eyes from dancing across her face—taking in every freckle and cataloging the details of her smooth skin in his mind. Her eyes were aimed at the ceiling and Tony advantageously stared at their color and depth.

For a brief moment, Pepper bravely looked Tony in the eye and what she saw there shocked her.

She had never seen him look at anyone like that before. Gone were the usual restraints he inflicted upon himself and all that was left was a complete warmth of total trust and admiration.

She really was all he had.

A New Ballgame

Tony froze.

Standing in the middle of his workshop, arms crossed over a broad chest, was a man. He wore a rough beard that lined his jaw, and his hair was dark, wild and beast-like. His features were chiseled and rugged, and he was clad all in leather. His black gaze flashed across the distance between them–a fierce and animal-like scowl.

Tony reacted. Reaching for a new piece of plate armor on the table–sharp and hard as granite–he grasped it in his hand and threw it as hard as he could at the intruder.

The man moved. But not to evade. He spread his stance and flung out his arms, his hands clenching to fists–

And three metal blades lanced out from each fist–each blade a foot long. With a bear-like swipe, the man lunged forward and slashed at the piece of armor–and cut through it as if it were butter.

He then dodged, and the pieces of armor clattered to the floor all around him. Silence fell.

A shudder ran all through Tony’s body, and his jaw tightened.

“Relax,” the man spoke in a deep voice, stretching his neck and relaxing his stance. “If I’d wanted to kill you, you’d have been dead hours ago.”

For once, Tony could think of nothing glib to say. He just stared at those wicked claws, until they retracted back into the man’s hands with a snap. Tony lifted his eyes and met the fearsome gaze.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“My friends call me Logan.” The man shrugged noncommittally. “But my fighting name is Wolverine.”