No Time This Time 7
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon and other elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You prize order and practicality but your past, and newest client, throw your life into chaos. (older [~50s] reader)
Character: Tony Stark
Notes: Here ya be.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
Love you like Tony loves his own voice. Take care. 💖
“Mom, you need to call the building manager,” you sigh as you close the metal door, covering the rows of circuits. “That thing keeps breaking. I can only do so much.”
“It’s fine,” she insists, “I’m sure you’ve figured it out.”
You pass her and go back to the sink, opening the cupboard beneath as you bend to peer below. You feel around and flip the switch for the garbage disposal, restarting the unit before standing straight. You close the cupboard and shake your head.
“It’s going to keep shorting. It must be the wiring. I can’t fix that.”
“Hmph, I don’t like the manager, he’s… strange.”
“It’s your choice, broken disposal or strange man,” you sigh.
You pull down the sleeves of your dress and check your watch. You have an early morning and a very important day. Of course, telling your mother that did nothing to affect her nagging. You don’t understand why your father’s will insures her a condo with good service only for her to call you over and over.
“I should go–”
“Already?” She gripes, “I’ve hardly seen you.”
“I’ve been working. It's a pretty important case. Besides, Samia–”
“Trust me, I know you’ve been avoiding your sister. You’d think you would have outgrown that sort of behaviour.”
“Not avoiding her, maybe I just have convenient timing,” you tilt your head at her.
“Uh huh, and this Tony Stark, you’re spending a lot of time with him, aren’t you?”
“He has been preparing for his deposition, yes. Which now you mention it, starts tomorrow.”
“He’s a very rich man. Must be about your age too.”
“Doesn’t act like it, trust me,” you surpass your mother and scoop up your purse, “all I have to do is get through it. Then I might take a vacation.”
“A vacation? But your sister–”
“She’s planning, I won’t miss anything if I leave for a week,” you cross your arms.
“She needs your help,” your mother whines.
“How so?”
“Well, she did want me to ask you for a tiny favour,” she clutches a fold in her shirt, putting on her best act of deference.
“Of course,” you nod and gesture with two fingers; what is it?
“She was… we were looking around at places for her engagement party and she just, she really is enamored with the look of Stark Tower.”
“What? I don’t think you can–”
“No, well, we did look into it and it’s not really open to the public, but you know Mr. Stark.”
“No, it’s a conflict of interest, I can’t.”
“But–”
“This is New York, there are hundreds of places she could choose. Not there.” You retort.
Your mother doesn’t reply. Not right away. She presses her lips together and her brows curve dangerously. She frowns and her mouth pops open loudly as she goes to argue.
“Why are you so mean to your sister?” She accuses.
“What?” You hiss.
“She’s having a hard enough time with all these plans and she wants one favour–”
“I’ve already agreed to go along with this wedding, I’ve done my favour.”
“Oh, it is such a hard task to be there for your own family,” your mother spits.
Where was Samia the last three years when your mother was all alone? When it was you coming by to make sure she had a full pantry and hadn’t hurt herself? Where was Samia as you worked late nights so you didn’t have to cry about your father? Better yet, where was she when you were picking out his casket?
“Like you said, it’s not open to the public and I cannot ask a client for personal favours,” you say tersely, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry to me. Be sorry to Samia. You can tell her what you won’t do for her. Your own baby sister,” your mother scowls.
“Gladly,” you say, “I have to go. I have a long day ahead of me.”
“And I have a long lonely night,” your mother’s voice creaks as she puts on her act, “off you go then, get your precious sleep.”
You hesitate. It takes every ounce of restraint not to full out glare at her. If only she knew the hours you spent laying awake in an empty bed. Thinking of things better off forgotten. Of people you wish you’d never met. She threatens to add herself to that list.
“Good night, mother,” you give her a one armed hug as she stands rigidly, fuming silently. “I will let Samia know to spare you the tantrum.”
👜
As you come down the steps of your building, a loud honk blares in your ear. Like any weathered New Yorker, you ignore it and keep on. Another comes as you approach the curb and draws your attention to the dark car parked there. It’s not unusual but the back window rolls down to confirm it is less than a coincidence.
“Hey, headed to the courthouse?” Tony looks out at you over the tinted glass, “need a ride.”
You stare at him. A litany of dry rejections runs through your mind. ‘Not with you’, ‘I’d rather walk barefoot through hell’, and the like.
“Carpooling is good for the environment,” he smirks, “so, how about it?”
Your answer is a swift march over the curb. He pushes open the door as you near and he shimmies to the other side of the seat. You get in and snap the door shut. You buckle the seatbelt and hook one leg over the other, staring straight ahead as you place your briefcase between yourself and Tony.
“Have a good night? Get lots of beauty sleep?” He teases.
“I slept,” you answer curtly, “I am prepared for the deposition.”
“Ah, it’ll be a stroll in the park,” he stretches his arm over the back of the seat, his hand just above your shoulder, “speaking of, do you often go for walks in Hell’s Kitchen?”
You let your lashes flick but give no other reaction. You keep your hand on your bag and roll your foot impatiently.
“I have other clients. They take me all over the city.”
“Is that who the blind dude is? A client? Suing for damages?”
“I also am acquainted with other lawyers. So is the nature of the profession.”
“That makes me wonder, the husband, what was he? A lawyer too? He doesn’t have the look.”
“Hmph,” you can’t help the scoff, “no, not a lawyer.”
“Definitely not your type,” Tony brushes a finger over his trimmed goatee, “more your sister’s, I’d say.”
“Mr. Stark,” you warn.
“I’m just, look, it’s a compliment. You’re the kinda gal who seems pretty content on her own. And when it comes to men, I suspect you’re the love em and leave em type. I admit, I got a bit of that myself,” he touches your shoulder and you stiffen, “guy wasn’t strong enough, is what I’m saying. You probably walked all over him. He couldn’t handle it so he went for someone… submissive. And I see the benefit in that as well, I just tend to go for a challenge.”
“Ahem, Mr. Stark, have you reviewed the brief. You must be very aware of the rules of deposition when we walk in–”
“It’s always business with you. What was the wedding night like, huh? You sign the contract then straight to consummation or was there like, dancing?” He chuckles.
“Must you be so crass?” You rebuff.
“I gotta get a little something out of ya,” he trails his hand down your sleeve, “I mean, I had something in you and still didn’t get much. You're the iciest queen I’ve ever met.”
“I am your lawyer. Full stop. That is where this acquaintance ends. Got it? You get your settlement and I get my fee. We part ways, happier than when we met.”
“Oh ho ho, wow, whew,” he blows out with a shiver, “cold.”
“And I would prefer, Mr. Stark, that you not continue to surveil me. What I do in the time not paid for by you, is my own business. Who I speak with, what I do, is not your concern,” you face forward, fighting not to let your lip tremble.
How much more you could say to him. You could imagine the look on his face if you even spoke a single word of what you think of him. He probably doesn’t even see what he’s done for what it is. He’s just another man with his needs.
How fortunate he is that the judicial system rarely charges rapists, especially wealthy ones. Even for those with merit, the process is tiring and tedious, hardly worth it to relive the trauma over and over. Besides, he is not important enough to traumatize you. You’re not even affected by Tony Stark. The thought of the smug look he’d wear were he to think so is enough to assuage any consequence of that forgettable scene in the elevator.
👜
“Miss Potts,” you address the other party, minding her insistence not to be called by her husband’s name, “where are you currently employed?”
She pushes back a strand of her strawberry hair as a line forms in her cheek. She has a manner about her. A way of putting on a stringent look each time she feels challenged. That air of combativeness has followed her throughout the deposition, though there has been little reason for it.
“At Potts and Co,” she states, “it is a company I began two years ago. We create lifestyle products and experiences.”
You nod and grip your pen firmly, “and how are you compensated, Miss Potts?”
The questions are all very standard. You go through each, one by one, but this is where you’re looking for some give.
“Well, after taxes and costs, my employees are also paid, so I do have my own salary there,” she explains.
“Mhmm, and do you have any other avenues of income?”
“No, only that company. I’ve built it from the ground and invested all I have in it. It may be no Stark Industries, but it is mine.”
“Thank you, Miss Potts,” you look down and give a thoughtful look to your open folder. You already know the next course of action, “very interesting. May I ask however, about this investment in this company. The funds that you used to start this business, do you have record of their origin?”
“Of course I do,” she nods at her attorney.
You wait and accept the paperwork. You look it over. Some bank statements from the time of opening and a list of bonds maturing. You shuffle through your folder and compare what you have.
“These stocks that you cashed out, they were part of your employment contract with Stark Industries during your time there?” You prompt.
“As an employee, not his wife,” Pepper affirms.
“Mhmm, right, as every employee is allowed to invest and have their contributions matched by the company. It is a very generous contract,” you say coolly, “I have here a record of the company’s contribution. And your own. You were a rather consistent investor.”
You turn the papers towards them, “there is however this matter. Around the time of your marriage, you changed the payor on these bonds. Now, I understand shortly after you and Mr. Stark were wed, that you terminated employment and cashed out on these to begin your business. But as you see, money talks. Mr. Stark invested as much as you invested in five years in five months.”
“What?” Her slender brows draw together and a line forms between them, “no–”
“You will also see that the stocks were legally a part of your marital income. They are not listed in your prenuptial agreement.”
“Tony,” she croaks, “you promised–”
“Miss,” you redirect her, “please, I want you to have a look and confirm to me that what I say is correct.”
She sighs and looks at her lawyer. She finally pulls the papers closer and her face pales. Her attorney clears his throat. They whisper as Tony sits back and crosses his arms. You want to elbow him and tell him not to be so obnoxious. You don’t agree with the shady tactic but he is your client.
“We’re proposing a dismissal for the day,” the opposing attorney says, “and we can reconvene tomorrow. As we’ve already been here for five hours, we think it would benefit both parties to take recess at this point.”
“Accepted,” Tony exclaims and you wave him off.
“Right, we will take recess,” you look at the court reporter, “we understand it has been a strenuous session.”
Miss Potts is the first to stand. She is less than happy as she stomps out without waiting for her lawyer. You calmly gather up your things and load it into your briefcase. Tony chuckles and bites his thumb as the court reporter adjourns themself.
“You are a killer shark,” Tony praises as he stands up, “I didn’t think you had it in you. I mean, the way you look at me could slit my goddamn throat but damn, that was hard shit.”
“Mr. Stark, I am merely stating facts and doing my job.”
“There it is. The ice. Do you think, if you were like a hero or a villain, I’d say more like the later, that you’d have like ice powers? I think you would. Or maybe laser eyes.” He grins and you squint at him, “like that. You are a lawyer after all, morally ambiguous at best.”
“Yes, well, given your line of work, you should be thankful that I am a mere mortal,” you sniff.
He chortles and claps his hand, “oh my god, was that a joke? From you?”
You blink at him dully as you grip the thick leather handles of your bag. His laughter peters out as he tucks his hand in his pocket.
“You’re funny. I mean, it’s that dry kind of humour, real British, but you are a fucking comedian. I like it.”
“Mr. Stark, I think we both deserve a respite after today,” you look at your watch, “have a good night.”
“It’s early,” he follows you to the door, “how about dinner. We’ll celebrate.”
“It’s not over yet,” you say as you come out into the hall.
“Well, sure, but we’re getting there,” he walks at your side. “Or we can hit that whiskey room by your mother’s–”
“Tomorrow will be another early morning.”
“Alright, fine, I’ll wait until it’s said and done, but you agree, we’ll celebrate?”
“I never agreed,” you march forward. “If we get the settlement you desire, I will gladly send you off with a bottle of whiskey. For your very own.”
“Ah, no fun.”
“Divorce isn’t fun,” you chide as you near the elevator.
You hesitate, nearly tripping. You peek at him from the corner of your eye then back to the silver doors. You should take the stairs.
“Excuse me, I need the facilities before I leave.”
You quickly step away and dip into the bathroom before you can surpass it. You only hear a surprised sputter before the door shuts. You quickly lock yourself in a stall and lean on the metal wall. Stop it. You have no reason to be shaking like a little girl.
