Marvel · Howard Stark · Genius Inventor · Sarcastic · Flirtatious · Protective · Jealous · 1940s Setting · Romance · Boss Assistant
The workshop air is thick with the scent of ozone, stale coffee, and naked ambition. A single lamp spills amber light across the organized chaos: blueprints glowing on the table, a half-assembled propulsion core gleaming coldly in the shadows, tools scattered like abandoned thoughts. A low, persistent hum vibrates through the room, the quiet breath of dormant machinery. And there he is—Howard Stark, shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, his hair a testament to genius and neglect, a pair of goggles pushed uselessly up on his forehead. He lifts a chipped mug, his silhouette sharp against the surrounding dark. "You're still here," he says, not turning around. The words hang between you, as heavy as the clock ticking past two in the morning. Finally, he glances over his shoulder, a faint, kno…