Solace
God, this body.
It was a distasteful sight: your body. The way it was shaped, the way it flowed, the way it felt. The way your skin wrapped around your bones, around your muscles — it was suffocating and inescapable.
It made you want to claw it off, return to nothingness and start over.
But all you could do was stare, through the reflection of the mirror. Wishing, begging no one in particular, fantasizing about all the ways you could spend it, use it for the greater good. Not this waste of space, waste of time and effort you were.
Your apartment felt cold around you, prickling your much-too-tight skin. It was dreadful around here — lonely, quiet. Recently, music hasn’t been able to keep the constant, thundering thoughts away, smaller, less impactful. So they screeched now, in the back of your mind, needy to be fulfilled. And somehow, the fear of actually doing something about this damn problem won out. But it also meant continuous, rib-aching anxiety, just a dull pain through the days, days that eventually turned to weeks, then months.
You don’t know how long you’ve been struggling, but it feels like forever. The anxiety feels like it’s been a forever. Started a forever ago and will continue a forever more.
Then a knock came to your door and you jumped — you were shirtless with this tight bra on and in front of a mirror with a pathetic body — you had to cover. You hadn’t invited anybody over and your anxiety kicked to overdrive, pressing the gas on your already racing heart.
Tony pushed the door open even though you hadn’t let a peep out, a wild grin on his face, his phone in his hand. Then his brain must’ve properly registered your pitiful form, because he paused, warm expression dropping. It tugged your heart, swelled tears into your eyes — because he was here and he wasn’t supposed to be here while you clearly displayed the hatred that gagged you, and you weren’t ever supposed to be the reason that his contagious grin dropped off of his face — ever.
Tony paused, eyes running over you.
God, that body.
Even from behind, even from just the reflection in the mirror, it was heaven on Earth.
He stifled the look that he really wanted to give you. Not like he should use it now, not when you had tears brimming your beautiful eyes, vulnerability and insecurity practically sweating from your skin.
You hadn’t been answering his stupid, pointless texts about this funny thing that happened with the rest of the team — and it really was stupid but he wanted to show you. So he came over to your shoddy apartment you had once insisted on staying in instead. Not like he would try to get out of a hangout with his… friend. Friend.
But seeing that insurmountable weight, that vast anxiety in your eyes made him pause.
Vulnerability never came easily between the two of you, so clearly he walked in at the wrong time. Stupid. He should’ve knocked. But then again… you were shirtless — and, Jesus, it drove him wild.
Tony knew he had to approach this very delicate seeming situation carefully so he put on his softest voice despite the raging need that circled through his body, that short circuited his brain, fuzzed it all over: “Hey…”
And all you did was freeze and stare at him in horror through the reflection. Tony didn’t know why, and it made him feel very out of place — unwanted here. Definitely the wrong time to have walked in.
“Y/n…” Tony started, slowly easing himself into the room, tucking away his phone into his pocket. “What’s up, pal?” He cringed mentally at the nicknames — wishing, begging the gods that, for once, he could call you something else. Anything else. Begging the gods that he could have the opportunity to show you he shouldn’t just be some friend, some teammate.
“I —” You choked, wobbling a step away. Every inch of you trembled, shook so violently he wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold you. He didn’t need much more right now, just some closeness — and it seemed you needed that too. An anchor.
So he rushed forward before you could have the chance to wobble back some more, sliding hands around you from behind. It was impulsive — and stupid — and he loved it.
Your bare skin, under his hands, felt far better than any heaven he’s known. In fact, he’d choose you over heaven any day. Tony didn’t make much of a move to caress or run his hands over you, he knew that’s a bad decision to make considering you and him have only ever been friends. Even if this hug from behind wasn’t very friend-ish to begin with.
“Shhhh,” he murmured, the need to kiss that flawless bare shoulder and neck of yours almost unbearable.
It’s weird. This need, this yearning for a girl he hasn’t even known all too long. A few years and he fell for a lovable, adorable loser. And this need and yearning for a girl he couldn’t say he knew all too well. You were reserved and concealed in those pesky little walls of yours that prevented him from knowing and dissecting you the way he’d fantasized about sometimes (all the time). He wanted to know you better than anybody else, but you seemed so, so against that. And he hated that. He hated the walls and barriers, but he’s put up with them for these past few years because you two had a connection and even though that connection wasn’t exactly what he wanted, he couldn’t lose it.
Tony settled for his arms around your stomach, holding you gently to him, feeling every tremor and shake your body produced.
You stared wide-eyed at him — it edged him to unease about his actions, but he didn’t pull back. He stood his ground while yours seemingly crumbled around you.
“I… I… I….” The tears you’d been holding spilled past the dam and ran down your cheeks.
He held you tighter.
Tony was warm, you found out.
It ignited something in you, arose a flare of heat in your chest. That gentle, soothing burn only sparked tears to your eyes and soon you found yourself crying while Tony held you from behind.
You didn’t know if Tony knew it or not but he was giving you a look. A look that felt heavy with love. It felt so gentle and soft and warm — you just wanted to curl up and never seen the light of day again, just snuggle to that warmth in your chest. The look was heavy but your shoulders felt lighter. It was because you were crying for the first time in months, you assumed, but the wrap and warmth of Tony’s arms felt the lightest of all.
Your heart hammered, and the anxiety that still clung to your ribs and stomach sucked but it felt lighter. So unbearably and indescribably lighter.
Tears streamed down your face and you knew you couldn’t stop them. Something about this was different; you’ve been held while you’ve cried before, but this was different. It was Tony, and he was different. Could be because he’s only ever been some friend from work, or because he was gentle, or maybe the genuine look of adoration that ached your heart worse than any anxiety ever could.
You cried and he held you.
You cried and he softly kissed your shoulder, whispering words your brain couldn’t process through your continuous tears.
You cried and he softly rocked the both of you, thumbs tracing sweet circles on your skin.
You cried and you felt warm.
When you stopped, you wanted to cry again. But the tears were spent and all you could do was sniffle.
Tony didn’t move so neither did you.
“You alright?” Tony asked gently. You didn’t know if you could answer that honestly.
“Yeah.” Your hoarse voice felt scratchy and foreign out loud.
Tony’s eyes flitted over you, hands moving to run over your bare skin gently. You shivered. You’d be sure he’d love to touch you if your body didn’t look like this.
“Beautiful body…” Tony murmured, gently pressing more kisses to your shoulder.
You sucked in a breath. Beautiful body. The words felt genuine, felt heavy and real, but you couldn’t help but doubt it. The evidence of… affection between Tony and you was right here, but you doubted it. You hated your body and you were sure everybody else did too.
Tony was getting carried away.
Possibly really carried away.
But you weren’t stopping him as he kissed your beautiful skin up to your neck, to your hair — kisses everywhere. His heart was swelled so much with affection and love that’s just been bottled up, that it’s all spilling out now and he doesn’t know if he can control it. But you weren’t stopping him.
Doubts ran through his mind, about consent and all things alike, but he just… he just thinks he loves you. And he’s tired of pretending that you don’t pop into his head at the most random moments, that every time that happens he grins — that he can’t get you out of his head. It was almost embarrassing and entirely not at the same time. Tony was ready to completely ruin his playboy reputation just to settle down with you and love you.
You made little noises, and he relished in them, running his hands over your gorgeous body, enjoying every damn moment.
He wanted to trace every mark, every scar, every freckle, every inch of your skin with his fingers, with his lips. He wanted to know you inside and out.
“Tony,” you whispered, such a feeble thing.
Tony paused, unsure. “Yeah, ba — Y/n?”
“I…” You took deep breaths. Tony slid a hand to your ribs, feeling those deep breaths, feeling them quiver. “What — are you doing?”
“Feeling you breathe,” he murmured.
“I…” You swallowed. Tony wanted to trace your neck with his tongue. You closed your eyes. Tony wanted to stare into those eyes, memorize every detail in them.
He was so in love it hurt.
“Keep…” You started but trailed off. Then you moved a hand to his on your ribs, taking more deep breaths. Tony smiled into your shoulder.
“You alright?” He chuckled.
“Yeah…?” A small half frown, half smile curled onto those lips of yours. He needed nothing more than to taste them. Tears seeped out of your eyes, and he let them, let them run down your cheeks, letting you cry again as he held you tighter.
“Come on,” he murmured, leading you and him to your bed.
You cried silently as he climbed on, beckoning you to come too. And you did, crawling right into his arms — where you rightfully belonged.
Tony cuddled you, letting your face nest in his neck, his hands snaking around you and keeping you close. He rocked the two of you gently.
“It’s gonna be okay, baby.” Was he rushing it with the nicknames? Possibly. Did he care? No.
He kissed your head again. You smelt like everything he imagined and more.
“Sorry,” You whispered, tears calming down.
“There’s no reason to be sorry,” he whispered back.
“… stay here, please.”
“Wasn’t planning on leavin’.”
Tony grinned to himself, because for the first time in a long time, he’s got what he wanted: you, in his arms. Crying or not, he’d hold you like he planned to never let go (he did).