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Pepper: Tony, you’ve been in the lab for two days! You need to sleep!

Tony: Come on, Pep— I’m not even tired and I’m almost done! Just one more day…

Pepper, leaving the lab:

Pepper, storming in five minutes later with Peter by her side:

Peter, sniffling dramatically: Mr. Stark, I’m tired :(

Tony, throwing all his tools down immediately and hurrying out of the lab: Welp, you heard the kid. Friday, dim the lights and cue up Star Wars. I’ll grab the weighted blankets. You grab the hot cocoa. We meet on the couch in five—

Pepper, slipping Peter ten bucks: Thanks sweetheart

Peter, now ten bucks richer, binging Star Wars, AND hanging out with Tony: Thank me? This is the best day of my life

#marvel mcu #mcu #peter parker #spider man #iron man #tony stark #irondad #irondad and spiderson #marvel #pepper potts

⍟ World's Finest! (Couple Edition) ₊˚⊹ᰔ

Pairing: Tim Drake x Fem!Stark!Reader

Summary: At a gala, Tim finds himself unexpectedly captivated by you, a model, a genius, the daughter of Tony Stark, and secretly a vigilante known as Ironheart. Between black tie events and patrol, the two of you fall for each other, hard.

CW: Swearing, vigilante violences, making out, for the sake of sense, the public doesn't know Tony Stark is Iron Man, readers alias is Ironheart

Word Count: 1.3k (holy moly)

My bae @dulcet-aurora writes the most goated tim fics.

Requested by anon.

Galas.

Tim always hated them, while Bruce pretended not to.

After several rounds of dry conversations, handshakes and fake smiles, if Tim was asked another "do you have a girlfriend sweetie?" from another wife of a billionaire, he'd spontaneously combust. Which is why he was already calculating his escape. Except, it all went out the window when you walked in through the mahogany doors of Edward Elliot's mansion, wearing a glimmering dress in Tim's favourite shade of red, your arm linked with your father's, Tony Stark.

You were magnetic. You were effortlessly charming while sparring verbally with Wayne board members, poking holes in their economic projections with a smile so sharp Tim swore he saw Lucius choke on his champagne.

After some appetisers, Tim worked up the courage to go and talk to you, feeling like a high school boy all over again....and he better do it quick 'cuz this is the only moment he'd seen you without a crowd of pubescent rich kids who think they're all that surrounding you.

"Stark." He acknowledged.

You turned around.

"Drake-Wayne." You hummed.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, I admire your work, you've changed the entire field of technology for the better." He stated

"I appreciate that, would you like to take this conversation outside?" While you did struggle to take your eyes off of the gorgeous boy standing right in front of you, you couldn't help but think of the ideas people were getting seeing two, young, attractive well-off teenagers together.

The night was crisp, the dress you wore almost glowing in the dim garden lights. You leaned against the stone railing, finally letting your shoulders drop.

“Do these things always drag like this?” you asked, tossing your YSL heels off to the side like you owned the place.

“Every single time,” Tim admitted, loosening his tie. “Best way to survive is to find another captive and plot your escape together.”

Your smile widened. “Guess you’re my co-conspirator, then.”

That’s when it began, not with flashing cameras or business deals, but with two bored heirs sneaking off into the gardens, laughing under the stars while Gotham’s elite droned on inside.

After that gala, you and Tim kept in touch. At first it was polite emails, Stark Industries to Wayne Enterprises. Then it shifted into texts about tech specs, a little banter about whose company made the cleaner code. Somewhere along the line, it stopped being “networking” and started being… you.

Late nights in Gotham, Tim would be hunched over his keyboard in the Cave, glowing screens reflecting in his tired eyes. Meanwhile, you were in your New York workshop, grease on your cheek, soldering arc reactor cores until your phone buzzed.

Tim: Stark, it’s 2:34. Normal people sleep.

You: Okay Drake, and miss the chance to beat you to solving the circuit problem? Nah.

Tim: You’re insufferable.

You: And yet you keep texting me 😏

The two of you got close.

Really close.

Neither of you knew the other was secretly suiting up between messages. Tim pulling on the Red Robin suit, you slipping into your Ironheart armour. Gotham rooftops and New York skylines blurred together in your minds as your voices kept each other awake through the comm lines. It wasn't only that, he'd secretly rock up to your penthouse whenever your father and Pepper weren't there, and the two of you would either:

A: talk, about literally everything

B: Make new gadgets and all that jazz

C: Watch The Summer I Turned Pretty and shit on Belly and Jeremiah, all while babysitting your little sister Morgan.

However, you really wanted a fourth option,option D, one where it ended with your lips on his, and his hands in your hair. What? Let a girl dream. You two were getting closer, it was undeniable.

Somehow, people noticed.

Photos of you and Tim in coffee shops started floating around. Blurry phone pics of you together at bookstores, tech expos, charity events, every time you were in Gotham or he was in New York, you were seen side by side. The tabloids ate it up. “Wayne Heir and Stark Princess: New Power Couple?”

And honestly?

You didn’t hate it. Because those quiet hours online, and those public “coincidences,” were slowly weaving into something that neither of you could ignore.

Precisely 7 weeks after the gala he first met you, not like Tim was keeping track or anything, Bruce was hosting one in commemoration of WE's a hundredth and something time on Forbes.

And Bruce was definitely catching on. How could he not notice his son get more and more attached to his phone that he already was?

It came to manifest over dinner.

"Would anyone like to come to the gala I'm throwing this Saturday?" He asked, rather slowly, eyes locking upon Tim, who immediately perked up.

"Will the Stark's be there?" He asked rather quickly, cheeks flushing coming to realise how embarrassing that speed was.

"I can invite them, would you like that, Son?"

"So you do like his daughter huh?" Dick asked, accusingly.

"Puh-lease, that girl would not go for you, she's out of your league." Jason shot, in typical older brother fashion.

"I think she's nice! I mean, she got me away from the wives of billionaires who tried setting me up with their daughters." Duke shivered, cringing whilst recounting that time.

"I'll make sure they're on the guest list, Tim." He said, chuckling.

Tim silently rejoiced, counting down the days until he got to see your smile.

The second gala was worse than the first. Bigger crowd, louder orchestra, flashier dresses. But it only took Tim one second to find you.

You were in silver this time, clad in Vera Wang and Versace, with your Stark signature sparkle. He was already halfway through a forced conversation with some CEO when you slipped up beside him, pressing a champagne flute into his hand.

“Rescue mission,” you whispered.

Tim smirked, putting an arm around your waist, sending tingles up your spine. “Thought you’d never show.”

The two of you gravitated to the gardens again, basically a habit now. Out where the music softened and the air smelled faintly of roses, the weight of being heirs fell.

“You ever feel like you’re on display?” you asked quietly, leaning on the railing.

“All the time,” Tim admitted. He hesitated. “But with you? It doesn’t… suck as much.”

You turned toward him, eyes gleaming under the garden lights, and for once, neither of you hid behind sarcasm. You stepped closer. He didn’t step back.

His arms found solace on your hips, playing with the hem of your dress, idly touching the expensive sequin you donned.

You arms wrapped around him, your manicured nails reaching to scratch the nape of his neck, making him shiver. You moved your hand to his cheek, his face moved forward, melting into your touch, almost as though he was seeking it out.

The kiss was soft at first, hesitant, testing, and then you both gave in, weeks of stolen texts and late-night calls collapsing into a single moment. His hands moved further up your back, pulling you closer.

The two of you broke the kiss, and went right back to it, with far more vivacity this time.

An yet, of course, the universe didn’t let you have peace, because when does it ever?

The sky over Gotham ripped open with sirens and smoke, in the distance, the ground was a deep shade of apricot. Explosions echoed from downtown, cutting through the music of the gala. You both broke apart, breathless.

“You should-” you started.

“Yeah,” Tim interrupted. His phone was already buzzing, Bat-signal priority.

"I-, uhm." He started

"Tim, go." You encouraged.

He grabbed your hand, and only after he knew you were safe in the arms of your father, he shot into the night.

And while you were disappointed your fourth option was cut short, you hauled on your iron suit, and flew right into the battle.

A/N: My first solo tim fic! I'm really proud of this one guys, I really like it and I hope you do too <3 Send me ideas for part 2 plsplspls. Also I cannot be the only one who hates belly tf, tsitp is basically ragebait atp, my bf likes seeing my crashout tho.

Hope you all enjoyed this! Likes, comments, reblogs and requests are highly appreciated! Requests are open!

Sources! -

Dividers - @cafekitsune

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