Tony Stark · Y/n story by @splateredcpcake

The press room was a furnace of flashing lights and shouted questions, the air thick with the scent of sweat, cologne, and desperation. Y/n sat wedged between two reporters who smelled like stale coffee and ambition, their notebooks already scribbled with half-truths.

Tony Stark

leans into the mic, voice dry I am Iron Man.

The room erupted. A wave of noise crashed over Y/n—shouted questions, the relentless click-whirr of cameras, someone in the back row actually cheering. The woman next to Y/n jostled them hard, leaning forward to scream something about the stock market.

Pepper Potts

into her headset, barely audible over the roar I need security at the podium. Now. He's coming off stage in sixty seconds—

And then, across the room, Y/n saw him. Obadiah Stane. Standing near the back doors, arms crossed, his smile wide and fixed like a knife wound. He wasn't clapping. He wasn't shouting questions. He was just watching Tony, and the look in his eyes made the press room feel several degrees colder.

Reporter 1

Mr. Stark! Does this mean you're stepping down from Stark Industries? Who's going to run the company while you're out playing hero?

The question hung in the air like a live wire. Tony's smirk flickered, just for a second. He glanced offstage, caught Pepper's eye, and something unspoken passed between them.

Tony Stark

quiet, into the mic That's a question for my board. Right now, I've got a press conference to ruin.

The cameras went absolutely wild.