Imagine Tony Catching You Dressing

thisismarvelus:

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Title: And He Likes What He Sees

Warnings: None

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(Y/N) looked into the mirror and a stranger looked back.
“Is it just me, or is this hair cut getting really old?”, she whispered quietly to herself as she pulled off her wig, letting the prosthetic fall gently to the ground as her own hair cascaded down to her shoulders.
(Y/N) had been wanting to change her look for a while, ready for something new, but hadn’t expected to change her entire way of living. Granted, that’s what happens when an A List impersonator joins a team like The Avengers, but this was beyond her wildest dreams. Working with the worlds mightiest heroes, when she herself was in essence, a glorified actor.
(Y/N) sighed.
Turning around, (Y/N) began to undress. She slowly lifted her silk blouse above her head, then, letting it fall to the ground, began to work on her shoes–heals with straps that wrapped around her legs all the way up to her knees.
“This is the last time I dress as a hooker for the job. Nat is way better at this interogating stuff anyways…” (Y/N) mumbled, catching another glance at herself in the mirror.
(Y/N) stared at her reflection for a while–her bright red lips, long, black false lashes–and frowned. The makeup had to go, she never really felt like herself in this clown mask.
But before (Y/N) could make a move for a cloth, her eyes caught movement in the corner of the reflection–Tony Stark lounging in a living room chair just outside (Y/N)’s open door–his eyes on her exposed waist, his lips slightly upturned.
“Mr. Stark!” (Y/N) practically screamed, sending Tony into full panic mode.
“I swear I didn’t see anything” he exclaimed standing up, his back now turned towards (Y/N). “Well, it wasn’t nothing …” he continued, slowly turning back to face (Y/N). His eyes wandered down her figure, “I mean, it was definitely something” he said, now smirking slightly.
“Mr. Stark!” (Y/N) said more emphatically, reaching for the door. But before she could close it, Tony pressed himself against the door, his face now inches away from (Y/N)’s.
“You know, I could help you with that zipper” he said, his eyes traveling down to (Y/N)’s mini skirt. (Y/N)’s eyes followed as understanding dawned.
“Stark!” she said one last time before slaming the door in his face.
(Y/N) breathed heavilly, took a moment, then pressed her ear to the door. She could hear Tony’s silent rebukes–“Damn it! …she, she did look good though..really good”–as he slowly walked away.
(Y/N) bit her lip, trying to keep her grin contained but, realizing she was actually alone now, ran to the mirror and smiled big.
Maybe she’d keep the haircut for a little while longer.