#Stark!reader

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Tony Stark’s child

Tony Stark x child!reader

warnings: alcohol ment,

a/n: so i just really think that the concept of tony having the party kid as opposed to nerdy avenger kid would be a really cool idea to explore teehee. most of this does actually take place pre-avengers tho!!

prompt:

you were quite the exhausting kid

“is this really how it felt to raise me?” -tony

many of nights he’d find your bed empty, you’d snuck out to go have your fun as teenagers do

“yeah, boss, i imagine it was” -happy

you always showed back up in one piece (like him) and besides a little slap on the wrist you didn’t get much discipline

actually, it usually went like:

“so, where did you go off to last night?” -tony

“a party” -you

“really? didn’t want to loop me in before you snuck out…again?”

“last time i told you about a party you showed up!”

“uh—yeah, but it’s not like i went all dad on you and dragged you away or anything”

“yeah, you joined the party and offered to buy teenagers more booze”

“hey, they all loved you after that! and they couldn’t get enough of my classic dance moves” -tony, jokingly doing the sprinkler with one arm “but seriously, let me know next time”

“we’ll see about that” -you

^the above conversion went about the same every time

sometimes for entertainment purposes you’d try a little harder, throw a few pillows under the covers to make it look like you were still home to put a smile on tony’s face

“aw, y/n reminds me so much of me” -tony

tony was still partying at this point so you’d flip the script on him from time to time

“you were out late” -you

“what are you, a cop? leave me alone. actually, can you get me some aspirin and water?” -tony

“sure, one or two” -you

“make it three” -tony

he would nurse your occasional hangovers (what a great dad!)

okay, he didn’t always know when you were gone. he was busy a lot of the time with his own business and extracurriculars so you guys did just kinda do your own thing for certain stretches of time

honestly you could be a bit of a klepto in the best of ways

but only to tony and only for fun

“oh, great, where’s my car?” -tony

“which one?” -pepper

“the black one!” -tony

“be more specific” -pepper

“the only one missing from my garage!” -tony

“yeah, i know, just wanted to give you some more time to think about it” -pepper

“i changed the code on the lockbox like, five times this week. did they hotwire it?” -tony

“we are talking about your kid, right? pretty sure they just hacked it” -pepper

“i am…so proud” -tony

you MAY have gotten a few close calls with authorities, but nothing tony couldn’t handle

and up until tony’s accident, the phrase “you’re going to give me a heart attack” was silly and endearing

“you might actually give me a heart attack, y/n, give a guy some warning or just say please for god’s sake” -tony, now comes with an arc reactor in his chest

“sorry” -you

“what—huh—didn’t hear ya, wanna say that a little louder?” -tony, very sarcastically

i tell ya when he got that armor u couldn’t tell if u were gonna flip out at him or invite him to a party

or steal it for…you didn’t even know what

but tony was 3 steps ahead of you when all this came to be

and you weren’t very interested in weapons, still just parties and dumb fun for you

“dad, i dont wanna be a nerd, will you just let me go out?” -you

“come on! just help me in the lab a few hours, what’s it gonna hurt?” -tony

“my social status” -you

“might i remind you you’re a stark? i think you’ll live if you miss one party” -tony

“you’d be surprised” -you

“hey, i almost died! give your old man a break” -tony

once tony got involved with SHIELD and the avengers he got even busier really

and in came the parenting advice from fury, clint, nat, steve

“hey, i don’t see you raising a teenager, back off” -tony

*clint side eye*

steve once tried to give you a good talking to, but you reminded him a great bit of your father with your stubbornness

“you done? i dont think you should be giving out any parenting tips fresh off the ice” -you

tony was kind of proud of you for sticking to your guns

especially around such powerful people

but you had a knack for that and could do it to practically anyone

mostly because you felt like an invincible teenager since you were raised by tony, who also thought himself an invincible teenager at one point

u tried to tone down giving tony grief when he started having panic attacks

since u accidentally caused a few by pushing boundaries and staying out for several nights in a row

cuz as tony gained more enemies, he thought you’d be in more danger

which was true

“happy, you’re y/n’s personal bodyguard” -tony

“no!” -you

“uh, cool? any fun parties planned tonight? i’ll be the designated driver. god knows i’ve been tony’s too many times” -happy

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 // @deanzboyfriend //

[m1sssyco]

I Can Be As Happy As You Want Me To Be

Pairings: Peter Parker x Reader, Reader is Tony's Daughter

Summary: Y/n and Peter kiss over a movie. When Tony finds out, he lectures his daughter.

Word Count: 854

A/n: hiii! This is my first fanfic and I tried my best, but English isn't my first language. Thanks @currentlygettinglobotomized for beta reading. Anyways... enjoy!

Your dad's being unreasonable.

Sure, he's usually right about a lot of things - an IQ of 270 will get you that far - but this is just one of those things he's wrong about. You're sure of it.

About 3 days ago, Peter had been over to your floor of avenger's tower. The two of you weren't doing anything extraordinary, just a movie playing in the background as you conversed. These movie nights had become a routine between the two of you ever since he'd come by to give Tony some mission reports, but your dad was nowhere to be found. Instead of letting his journey all the way to the tower be wasted (it wasn't really that far, considering his webs), he joined you on the movie you had been watching.

But on that night, something shifted in the air. You weren't paying attention to the movie or whatever topic Peter was droning on about, not that you minded, but rather on Peter. He must have noticed you staring, because he, too stopped talking, and soon enough there was no sound but the beating of your heart - which seemed way faster than you remembered it to be - and the hum of the TV.

You'd never looked at him this way before. You'd never noticed how his skin glowed just right from the reflection of the lamp in the corner of the room, or how his hair was so perfectly messy. But most of all, this was when you first noticed how pretty his eyes were, staring right back into yours. They shone with something - adoration, maybe - that you'd never seen before, and oh how it pulled you in.

Before you knew it, your lips were touching. You don't remember who leaned in first, but it was obvious Peter wanted it just as much as you did. You could feel it in the way he moved against you, gentle but wanting, chasing after your taste. You felt his hands hesitantly move to cup your face, deepening the kiss. You let out a sigh of content, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips.

You could've stayed in that moment forever, and you probably would've, at least for a few moments more, if a certain speedster hadn't decided to break into your floor at that exact moment.

Upon seeing the two of you attempt to break apart from each other, Pietro had said something snarky along the lines of, 'I always knew you two had the hots for each other.' in that annoying way he always does, before threatening to spill the beans of your entanglement to your father.

Now, Tony didn't have anything against Peter, or any set rules about dating set for you, but he seemed to forget that you weren't 11 anymore, and that resulted in a very protective approach from him. If he were to find out about this... whatever this was between you and Peter, he was certain to freak out.

That's what you were experiencing now: 30 minutes on a lecture that felt more like a lifetime about how you shouldn't get involved with Peter, at least not like this.

"... just looking out for you. The life Peter has, it's a dangerous life. I don't want you to be sucked into that because of a little crush-"

"This isn't just a little crush, dad. I care for Peter. He cares about me."

"and I'm not saying that you don't. I believe that he does. But caring won't always be enough when it comes to protecting you."

"Let me decide what's enough. This isn't about you! This is about me!"

"I know this is about you! All of this is for you; I just want what's best for you."

When you realize he's so set on making you stick to his strict moral code that this conversation isn't going anywhere, you sit back down on the couch you didn't realize you'd risen from somewhere in your argument.

"He makes me happy, Dad." Your voice comes out softer than you'd like it to be, but you figure it's fitting for the conversation at hand. "Could you be happy too? For me?"

His brows furrow, his face contorting into what seems like deep thought. You're not sure what there is to think about, though; It's either he deals with the fact that there's something between you and Peter, or he ends up distancing himself from you - and having to deal with the fact that there's something between you and Peter.

The choice seems crystal-clear to you, but then again, you're not sure how your dad's brain works. 

 "I'd do anything for you, kiddo. You know that, " he says, letting out a sigh like the words burn his tongue as he says them. "I can be as happy as you want me to be."

He kneels down to eye-level before wrapping his arms around you. Your dad isn't a hugger, you know that much, but you also know better than to hesitate. He hugs you like he wishes he could say more; you hug him like you're okay with the silence.

A/n: thank you for reading! any feedback is welcome

Divider by @cafekitsune

[raven-dor]

i can't help but love you

in which pietro maximoff falls for his coworker...

PAIRING: pietro maximoff x fem!reader, tony stark x daughter!reader

WARNINGS: arguing, oblivious nature, more arguing, tension, angst, avoiding, jealousy, fluff ending!!

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

🎶 : war of hearts - ruelle

AN: ♥️💗 - i guess there's no civil war au with this? like everyone lives in the tower and nothing bad ever happened - yippee right?! anyways, enjoy!!

“Maximoff!” 

Y/N Stark’s voice rang clear through the 59th floor of the Avengers Tower, and Wanda laughed as she stalked into the living room. “What has he done now?” 

“Your brother-” The girl was practically fuming. “Has destroyed my project.” 

“Lies.” The speedster stood near the glass doors that led to the landing pad. “She is lying.” 

“Don't.” Y/N hissed, approaching the speedster with murderous intent. “You know what you did.” 

“Please enlighten me as to what I have done.”

“I swear to god, Pietro.” Her voice was ragged, and Wanda frowned. Her friend’s normally witty disposition was nowhere to be seen. “I stayed up all night working on that- it had just started working, and you- you-” 

“What’s going on?” Steve’s voice cut through the tension the pair had so expertly built. They refused to face the Captain, opting to glare at each other menacingly. “Either of you care to explain?” 

Neither moved, as if they were in one of those gun fights in those westerns Clint loved so much. Wanda sighed, giving up on her peace and quiet. “Pietro destroyed Y/N’s project.” 

“I stayed up all night working on it.” Y/N whined, still glaring at Pietro. 

Steve sighed, placing his hands on his hips. Y/N would have teased him for acting like her father in any other circumstance. “Pietro, you can’t keep doing this.” 

“It is not my fault little Stark gets so angry. It was just a little fun.”

“Just a little fun, huh?” Pietro nodded, smirking. “I’m going to-” Y/N’s hand was itching to punch the Sokovian in the stomach.

“I think you need to take a break.” Steve intervened, eyeing her clenched hand with fear. “I’ll deal with him, don’t worry.” 

“He-” She squeezed her eyes shut before nodding sharply. “Fine.” 

Steve waited until she was out of view to address the speedster. “Maximoff.” 

He was still smirking. “Yes, Captain?” 

“The whole ‘bullying the girl because you like her’ routine is getting old. There are easier ways to get her attention.” 

Wanda laughed as her brother’s cheeks grew bright red. “What?” 

“She’ll never forgive you if you keep messing with her projects. They’re important to her, and-” He huffed, placing a hand on Pietro’s shoulder. “Just go easy on her, okay? You know how hard she’s been working.” 

Pietro nodded, cheeks still bright. “Yes, sir.” 

Normally, mission debriefs went smoother.

Keyword, normally. 

Wanda had always noticed this, the tension between the two, but after this particular meeting, it became clear to everyone. She reminded herself to start a betting pool after Steve finished the debrief.

“You can’t be serious, Cap.” 

“I am serious.” Steve sighed. “It makes the most sense. With your expertise and his-”

“Steve…” It seemed Y/N was not below begging. “Anyone but him, please.” 

“That desperate to escape me, Princessa?” Pietro wiggled his eyebrows. “You know you-” 

“Don’t.” She raised her hand, cutting him off. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” 

Tony watched with mild fascination, leaning back in his chair. Natasha leaned over, whispering in his ear. “What’s going on with those two?” 

“I’ll die out there.” Y/N cried. “He doesn’t care about watching my back.” 

“Hold on-” Pietro looked mildly offended. 

“I don’t know what exactly happened between the two of you, but Pietro would never leave you to die.” Steve looked stern. “You know that.” 

Pietro nodded, not that that reassured her in the slightest.

“Fine.” She huffed. “Whatever, just continue, I guess.” 

Steve smiled, looking back at the screen. “Thank you. As I was saying-” 

The rest of the team hadn’t missed the way Pietro stared at Y/N, eyes wide like a kicked puppy’s. And Tony hadn’t missed the way his daughter’s eyes lit up when she ‘glared’ at the Sokovian.

“ETA?”

“Five minutes, tops.” Y/N unplugged the hard drive, stuffing it in her pocket. “Just got the drive.” 

Pietro looked nervously out the door. “Hurry, Princessa.” 

“Stop calling me that.”

“Princessa?” He raised an eyebrow. “Are you not-” 

“Just stop, alright?” 

Pietro nodded. “Fine. Are you finished?” 

She shook the drive that laid in her palm. “I’ve been finished. Thought you were supposed to be up to speed, Quicksilver.” Walking past him and toward the doorway, she almost gasped when his hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her back. “What the hell is your prob-” 

“Do you trust me?” 

She’d been caught off guard by that question, replying before she could even truly think about her answer. “Of course.” 

“What’s taking so long, you two?” Her father’s voice rang over the comms. “Can’t keep the Quinjet here forever.” 

She peeled her eyes away from Pietro’s, staring at the doorway. “Relax, old man.”

Pietro put his hand around her neck, pulling her flush against him. Her cheeks flushed. “What are you doing?”

“Just-” He looked down, smiling lightly. “You said you trust me.” 

She nodded slowly. “Do we need to get your hearing checked?” 

“Don't let go.” 

“Okay.” She tried to ignore the way her stomach flipped when he looked at her. 

The New York skyline was so beautiful in the middle of the night. Her legs dangled over the edge of the balcony as she stared out at the people below. 

“What are you doing awake?” 

She jumped, clutching her chest. “Jesus, Maximoff.” She shook her head. “You can’t just pop out of nowhere like that.”

He laughed. “Did I startle you?” 

“No.” She deadpanned. “That’s why I jumped.” 

“Perhaps you should not sit by the edge then.” 

She rolled her eyes, slapping his arm half-heartedly. “What’s got you up?” 

“I asked you first,” Pietro responded. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine.” She sighed. “Just- can’t sleep, that’s all.” 

“Ah.” A beat of silence fell over them before he spoke again. “When we were younger, and I couldn’t sleep, my mother used to make me a special tea.” He stared at the traffic below, a nostalgic melancholy look on his face. “Wanda makes it for me now.”

“Do you miss your mother?” She whispered. 

“Everyday.” Pietro smiled. “And my father.” 

Y/N nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize.” His mouth went dry, she was staring at him so intensely. “I will make you a cup.” 

“You don’t need to do that, Pietro. Really.”

“It is no trouble.” He stood up, extending his hand. “Come inside.” 

“I’m fine out here.” 

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Because you are shivering.” 

She laughed, taking his hand as he guided her to warmth. “Why are you doing this?”

He tilted his head, releasing his hold on her to fill the kettle. “Doing what, Princessa?” 

“You’re-” She smiled. “You’re being nice.” 

“I do not enjoy upsetting you.” 

She huffed, sitting on the island as Pietro grabbed two mugs. “Could have fooled me.” 

“We are not so different, you and I.” He leaned against the counter across from her, and her eyes fell on his arms, stretching the fabric of his sleeves so beautifully. “I forget what made us this way.” 

“I don’t remember either,” Y/N whispered back. “I just remember you trying to stop my dad from completing Vision.” 

“In my defense-” Pietro laughed. “I thought-” 

“Yes.” She nodded. “I know.” They sat in a comfortable silence, staring at each other. When the kettle hissed, breaking their peace, Pietro turned around, pouring them each a cup. There was something so domestic about this moment, about him helping her fall asleep. If anyone had walked in the kitchen right then and there, she would have denied that any camaraderie had occurred.

She wondered if he would do the same.

He turned back around, and she straightened her posture, all of a sudden insecure about how she looked. He blew carefully, cooling down the tea so she could drink it. “For you.” 

She smiled, taking it gratefully. “Thank you.” He nodded, watching as she took her first sip. Her eyes widened, honestly surprised at the taste. “It’s delicious.” 

He grinned, cheeks growing red. “You are just saying that.” 

“No, really!” She insisted, taking another sip. “It’s delightful, honestly.” 

“I am glad you enjoy it.” His voice was quiet, deep as they realized how closely they were. His head was hung, mere inches away from hers. “Princessa-” 

“I-” She interrupted. “I should go. To bed. I should go to bed.” Setting the mug down, she jumped down from the counter. “Thank you.” 

“Of course.” He nodded. “Anytime.” 

Steve was fuming, which, if you knew the Captain, was extremely rare. The quinjet was silent as their leader pointed out their mistakes, their missed chances. “This was a perfect mission, you two. What happened?”

Y/N sat on the bench, staring at her hands. “We almost-” 

“No excuses.” Steve raised his hand, waiting for an answer. “What happened?” 

“It was my fault, Captain.” 

Steve faltered, looking over at the girl for confirmation. “Is that true?” 

“What are you doing?” She whispered to Pietro. 

The speedster ignored her. “She was hurt.” 

“It was a scratch.” Y/N insisted. “I told him we could keep going.” 

“It was not a scratch.” Pietro hissed. “They shot you.”

“Stop,” Y/N whispered. 

“What?” 

She stared at him, desperate to figure him out. “Stop acting like you care. You wanted to play the hero, and you ruined the mission.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“You heard me.” Y/N’s eyes hardened, ignoring the looks their teammates gave them. “Do you deny it?” 

He nodded. “You are wrong.” 

“Doesn’t seem like I am. You’ve been in this situation before - when Clint got grazed two weeks ago, you kept going.” 

“That was different-” 

“Or when Nat was trapped back into a corner. She told you to go on without her. No hesitation.” 

“Princessa-” 

“When Wanda sprained her ankle, and she told you she could keep going, you listened. What’s so different?” She interrogated. “That you had to ruin everything?”

Pietro looked hurt, angry, and hurt. “I think you know why.” 

“I don’t, actually.”

“Then we have nothing more to talk about.” 

“Fine by me.” She sat back, staring at the wall until they landed. And when they had, she’d been the first one off, stalking toward the training room. 

“He loves you.” 

She scoffed, punching the boxing dummy once more. “How do you know?” 

Tony laughed, crossing his arms. “C’mon, kid. He ruined what should have been a simple mission because you were scratched.” 

“So?” 

“You said it yourself. He didn’t save his sister when she sprained her ankle.” He took a step closer. “He loves you, and you’re scared.” 

“I’m-” Punch. “Not-” Punch. “Scared.” Punch.

“Yeah?” Her father sighed. “You seem scared to me. Classic Stark move, you know. Running from affection.” 

She pushed past him, taking a sip from her water bottle. “You perfected it.” 

“Never said I didn’t.” He shrugged. “Another classic. Deflecting."

"Get to the point."

"Just don’t lose out on this. That kid cares about you, and I’m not going to be around forever-” 

“Dad…” 

“Give him a break.” Tony placed a hand on her shoulder, smiling lightly. “Do it for me, okay?” 

“Fine.”

“And go take a shower.” He laughed. “You stink.” 

They hadn’t talked since the quinjet, since the mission had blown up in flames.

Two weeks had passed since the rest of the Avengers solved the case, since they’d been the only ones left in the tower, since she’d ask Friday if he was in the kitchen, and sneak out of her room when the coast was clear. 

Now, as she sat at the party thrown in honor of the successful mission, she fought the way the hairs on her arms raised as she felt his stare from across the room. 

Instead, she flirted with the bartender. 

Her dress had long flowy sleeves, which was not normally her style, but because of her ‘injury’ she now felt disgusted by the scar. It was off the shoulder and short, short enough to capture someone’s attention. 

“You’re stunning.” The handsome man behind the bar was the perfect distraction. 

Her eyelashes were low, smile mischievous as she responded. “You don’t mean that.” 

“I do.” He nodded. “Plan on being here for long?” 

“That depends.” 

His eyebrow raised. “On what?” 

“When your shift ends.” 

“Y/N.” 

A deep sigh left her, and she quickly smiled at the bartender before spinning in her chair to face him. 

“Maximoff.” 

“Can we talk for a moment?” 

She honestly considered it, ignoring him and going back to the man that eagerly waited behind her. But the look in his eyes and the way her heart twisted under his gaze was enough to convince her. “Quickly.” 

Pietro nodded, following after her. “What is his name?” 

“I don’t think you get to know, since you so rudely interrupted.” She stopped in the hall, the party now a dull roar. “What do you want?” 

“You’ve been avoiding me.” 

“No, I haven’t.”

“Oh?” He frowned. “The computer told me your 'escape' plans.” 

“Friday!” She gasped, looking up. “What the hell?” 

“Mr. Stark made me.” The computer responded, and she silently cursed her father. 

“I've missed you.” 

She raised an eyebrow, forcing herself to act uninterested. “I don’t know why. We’re not friends.” 

“No.” He nodded, his eyes dropping to her lips for a second too long. “We’re not.”

“Well, this has been exactly what I expected.” She clapped her hands. “If you don’t mind, I have to get back to-” 

“He will only hurt you.” He whispered. 

“I don’t care.” She hissed. “He’s a distraction; that’s enough for me.” 

“A distraction?” Pietro looked much too confident. “From what, exactly?”

“From you and your creepy stare.” She lied straight through her teeth. Technically, she wasn't lying. She really was flirting with the bartender to distract herself from the larger issue: her feelings for him. “Following me everywhere. It’s-” Pietro took a step closer, and she choked on her words, swallowing. “You’re-” 

“Yes?” He whispered. “It seems as if you are at a loss for words.” 

“Why can’t we just go back to arguing?” 

“We can argue.” He smiled. “We can do anything you want.” 

“You’ll agree with anything I say, won’t you?” 

Pietro shrugged. “Only one way to find out.” 

“Oh?” He nodded. “Get me a slice from-” A small to-go box laid in her hand before she could even blink. Fighting the smile that threatened to break through her hard exterior, she bit her lip. “I never finished my sentence.”

“Bravo Pizza, Union Square.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “You visit after every mission.”

“You-“ She shook her head, and opened the box, two New York slices inside. “Alright then. I want to sit on the landing pad.”

“Jesus, Pietro.” The New York traffic blared below them, lights flickering like stars in the night sky. She gripped his suit jacket, questioning her stability in these heels. “This is higher than I remember.”

“Princessa.” She hummed, leaning her head against his chest. His finger hooked under her chin, pulling her eyes away from the city. “It is alright.” 

“I didn’t think this through.” 

He laughed, gripping her waist tighter. “You won’t fall, I promise.” 

“Wow.” She whispered. “Even your eyes are silver.” She stared for a moment longer. “They’re captivating.” 

He smiled, pushing a stray hair out of her face. “I am yours to command.” 

“Anything?”

He nodded. “Anything at all.”

“Forgive me.” If he had not been staring at her lips, the wind could have carried her words away.

“Forgive you for what, Princes-” Her lips collided with his, passionately, deeply, pulling him closer, as close as she could. 

His eyes widened before he even registered that she was kissing him, that she was actually kissing him. His hands trailed further up her back, one landing on her waist, and one landing on the side of her face, caressing her cheek. 

“Pietro.” She whispered, pulling away. 

“I was supposed to kiss you.” He laughed, kissing the corner of her mouth gently. “I had a plan.” 

“I suppose…” She smirked, reveling in his touch. “You’ll have to be quicker than that.”

taglist: @milesdrift

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO JOIN!

[lumosflairr]

𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬 - 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫

masterlist

summary: When peter swings through your window and asks you to build Star Wars legos with him, how could you say no? [stark!reader]

warnings: suggestive jokes like twice.

word count: 2.1k

Taglist: @shadesofcoolxo @scaredraccoon @plumbum4 @moramaybe @iluvhrj

The soft glow of your bedroom lights bathed the walls in a warm hue as you lay sprawled across your bed, a tablet propped up against your knees while lo-fi music hummed gently from the speakers. It was late afternoon at the Tower, and the kind of peaceful quiet that followed a day without villains or rogue.

You had your window cracked open, more out of habit than anything else. Somewhere far below, you could faintly hear the city’s buzz. But up here, it felt like your own little sanctuary—until you heard the distinct clink of the latch sliding open.

You didn’t flinch. Instead, a slow smile tugged at your lips as you glanced sideways toward the tall windows just as they cracked open fully, letting in a gust of wind and a very familiar, curly-haired boy who stumbled in with a bit more flair than necessary.

“Peter,” you drawled without looking up, “you know there’s a door, right?”

He straightened, brushing wind-tangled curls out of his face and grinning. “There's no fun in that."

You turned your attention to him, a smile pulling on your lips as you placed the tablet away. You stood up from your bed and walked over to him, placing a soft kiss on his lips that he flourished into. Peter's hands found your waist as he moved you both from left to right earning a giggle from you. Time felt like it slowed down every time you kissed Peter. He was always so soft, so loving- so unreal.

You pulled away first, wrapping stray pieces of hair around your finger and twirling it. His eyes were glued to you-full of admiration and love. He let out a sheepish laugh before he removed his hands from your waist to pull his backpack off.

"Almost forgot, I have a surprise." He mentions, crouching down so he could unzip his backpack before rummaging inside.

"A surprise?" You ask, eyebrows furrowed.

Peter looked up at you through his lashes, a small awkward smile tugging at his lips. "I, uh… brought something. It’s kinda nerdy. Okay, it’s really nerdy. But I was thinking—maybe you’d wanna do it with me?"

You let out a breathy laugh at your boyfriends remark. "Pete, I don't care how nerdy it is if it means I get to spend time with you."

He chuckled nervously before pulling out a LEGO set. It had a massive gray spaceship and a number that read '7,541 pieces', the unmistakable title in the corner: Millennium Falcon.

Your mouth fell agape. “Peter, that thing’s huge.”

He laughed, cheeks flushing. "Ned and I pooled together some money a while back to buy one, and we built it together over a couple weekends. But then this one went on sale, and I kinda… saved up again. I was gonna build it solo, but I thought it'd be more fun with you."

Your heart warmed at the thought.

He looked up at you then, eyes a little uncertain. "I know it’s dorky. I just thought—if you don’t want to, it’s totally fine—"

You leaned forward, reaching out to cradle his face with your hands. "Peter, that’s really sweet of you. I’d love to."

Relief washed over his face like a tide. He beamed, leaning forward to kiss your cheek before immediately beginning to unload bag after bag of LEGO pieces from his backpack. Within minutes, your floor was covered in numbered plastic packets, the massive instruction manual flopped open.

You settled onto the carpet, legs crossed beneath you. Peter sat opposite, already sorting out the first few bags.

"Okay, so bag one is all the base plates," he said, eyes skimming the instructions. "And fun fact—did you know the actual Millennium Falcon in the movies was twenty-five meters long? The UCS model is over thirty inches! They had to build a full-size cockpit for some of the original shots."

You let out a giggle at his comments, "Really?" you asked teasingly. You loved it when Peter would give you random fun facts and would become completely absorbed in his interests.

Peter’s eyes lit up. He nodded eagerly, clearly thrilled you showed even a dime interested. "Yeah! But I think this is the updated model,” Peter murmured, nose buried in the instruction book.

“It’s more accurate to the Force Awakens version—but it still has the classic round dish instead of the rectangular one, which is way better, honestly.”

You smiled as you sorted. “You sound like you’ve memorized the schematics.”

“I have. Pretty much.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Peter shot you a proud look. “Did you know the Falcon’s hyperdrive is a Class 0.5? That’s faster than an Imperial Star Destroyer. Han bragged about it all the time.”

“Oh really?”

"Also," he added, glancing up, "did you know that its hyperdrive was a class 0.5? That’s one of the fastest ratings in the galaxy."

You gasped dramatically. "Scandalous."

“And the reason it looks so weird is because George Lucas originally designed it as a flying saucer, but changed it at the last minute. The final design is based on a hamburger with an olive on the side.”

You paused, mid-sort. “Wait. What?”

Peter grinned. “Yeah. The olive is the cockpit.”

You reached across the instruction booklet to boop his nose. "You’re such a nerd."

"You love it," he teased.

"I do."

An hour in, your floor was buried in baggies, bricks, and half-assembled engine cores. You’d lost count of how many times Peter had given you little Star Wars facts. Every single time, you smiled and gave him soft, amused responses:

“That’s so cool.”

“Really?”

“You’re kind of amazing, you know that?”

He always flushed a little when you said that. It made you want to keep doing it just to watch him try not to squirm.

The Falcon began to take shape. Compartments, smugglers’ holds, the cockpit frame. Peter showed you how the dish connected, and you helped him attach the forward mandibles. Each piece that clicked into place made the whole thing feel like a game.

You were reaching for another gray tile when the door cracked open behind you.

“Hey, kiddo, I was gonna ask if—”

Tony Stark stopped cold in the doorway. His brows furrowed as he took in the scene: you and Peter Parker sitting cross-legged on your bedroom floor, surrounded by a colorful minefield of LEGO, instruction books, half-built Falcon parts, and a disturbing amount of laser blaster minifigures.

He tilted his head slowly, eyes narrowing.

“What’s Spider-Boy doing here?”

Peter stiffened like he’d been hit with a stun gun. “Uh… hi, Mr. Stark.”

You looked up with a calm, practiced smile. “He wanted to hang out. We’re building LEGO's.”

Tony squinted. "That’s aggressively nerdy."

"Dad!"

He held up his hands in mock defense. “Hey, hey. Not judging. Just… observing. Judging a little, but still.”

Peter smiled awkwardly. “It’s a really advanced set.”

“I can see that.” Tony squinted. “Wait—when did you get here?”

Peter blinked. “Uh… not long ago?”

Tony’s eyes narrowed. "Wait a sec. When did you come in? I didn’t see you at the door."

Before Peter could speak, Tony looked at the two of you- then the window.

Tony pointed at Peter and looked directly at you. "Did he come through your window?"

Peter and you tried to speak at the same time once again- but were cut off.

"How long has that been going on? Is this, like, a nightly thing? Is he Batman-ing his way in here every week?"

“Dad,” you sighed, “we’ve been over this—”

Tony held up a finger. “You know what? Nope. Gonna circle back to that later. But in the meantime—Peter, dinner’s at seven. You’re staying. No arguments.”

Peter nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.”

“And next time,” Tony added, walking toward the door, “just use the damn door, kid.”

The hours passed in a whirl of bricks and giggles. Peter occasionally scooted closer so you could see the finer parts of the manual. Your arms would brush, and he’d blush, but neither of you mentioned it. At one point, he explained how the Falcon’s sensor dish was knocked off during the Battle of Endor, and that’s why it has a rectangular one in The Force Awakens.

Suddenly, Peter began looking around. He checked beside his legs and around the partially built spaceship. "Where’s the trans-clear radar tile? The one with the circular etching?"

You looked around, then frowned. "It was right here a second ago. Did it fall under the rug?"

The two of you searched every corner of the carpet. Peter was halfway under your bed, legs sticking out like some kind of reverse-spider-crab.

"Got it!" Peter popped back up, hair sticking out in every direction and holding the piece triumphantly. "I found it!"

You grinned. "Oh, my hero!"

He placed it delicately in your palm like he was bestowing a rare jewel.

By the time you reached the final few pieces, the sun had dipped beneath the skyline, casting golden light across the floor. Peter clicked the last turret into place and leaned back, breathless.

You both stared at the completed Falcon. It took up nearly half the floor space between you. In Peter's words, it was 'the second most beautiful thing ever made because you came first.'

Peter exhaled, satisfied. “I’m really glad I got to spend today with you.”

You turned to him and gently cupped his face in your hands. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than with you.”

He blinked, clearly trying not to melt.

“Even if it’s just building LEGOs and me nerding out about Star Wars?”

You smiled, thumb brushing his cheek. “Especially that.”

He gave you that crooked, sunshine smile you adored—one that lit up his whole face.

Right on cue, FRIDAY’s voice filled the room:

“Miss Stark, Mr. Parker: dinner is ready. Mr. Stark has requested your presence. His exact words were: ‘tell the lovebirds to wash their hands and drag themselves to the kitchen before I come up there and hose them down.’”

You and Peter both burst out laughing.

Peter ran a hand through his curls, grinning. “That’s definitely your dad.”

You groaned with a smile, pushing off the floor and stretching. “I should’ve known he’d call us out eventually.”

He gave you that boyish, shy smile that made your heart melt. “You sure he’s not gonna kill me?”

You looped your arms around his neck. “If he was going to, he would’ve the first time you came through my window.”

“…So just mild intimidation tonight?”

You grinned. “Very mild.”

Right then, the door swung open without warning. You were greeted with none other than your father, who looked mildly annoyed.

“You two elope and forget to RSVP to dinner?”

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself up slightly. “We were on our way.”

Tony stepped further into the room, gaze narrowing just slightly at Peter, who immediately sat up straighter, like being caught slouching was somehow the real offense.

“You okay there, Underoos?” Tony asked, lips twitching. “You look like I walked in on something scandalous. Should I knock next time?”

Peter’s face turned an impressive shade of red. “N-no! I mean—no, sir. We were just building the—uh—Falcon. That’s all. Just the Falcon. LEGO Falcon. Nothing else.”

Tony gave you a knowing look. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Dad.”

He smirked. “Hey, I’m just saying—you tell your daughter and her spider-boyfriend dinner’s at 7:00, and 7:10 hits so I come looking and find his hands suspiciously close to your knee and you sitting there making oogly eyes at him."

Peter let out a noise that might’ve been a panicked laugh.

“We were literally talking about Star Wars,” you deadpanned.

“Uh-huh. Nerd foreplay,” Tony muttered. “The most dangerous kind.”

You gave him a look. “Can we not, please?”

Tony held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. You’re right. I trust you. Mostly.” He gave Peter a long look. “Sixty percent.”

Peter squeaked out a “Thank you?”

Tony’s gaze dropped to the LEGO Millennium Falcon laid out in all its half-built glory. He tilted his head.

“Huh. Not bad.” He gave a small nod, then added, “I could probably build it faster.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Sure you could.”

He smirked. “Excuse me, I’m a mechanical genius. That thing’s like baby’s first blueprint.”

“You still couldn’t figure out how to open a cereal box this morning.”

“That was sabotage. Who triple seals Frosted Flakes?”

Peter tried and failed to stifle a laugh, to which Tony turned, mock-offended. “Oh, so now you’re on her side?”

Peter put his hands up, smiling nervously. “I’m neutral! Switzerland!”

Tony pointed at him. “Stay that way. Smart man.”

He took a final glance around the room, nodding once more before backing out. “Wrap it up, lovebirds. Dinner’s getting cold and I’m not reheating lasagna for two teenagers who chose LEGO bricks and whatever the hell you two were doing up here over my homemade masterpiece.”

You snorted. “You didn’t make that lasagna. FRIDAY ordered it.”

“Semantics,” Tony called over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hall.

[dameronspector]

Philophobia

(PART 1)

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Stark!Reader

Summary: Devastated by your father’s death and cutting yourself off from everyone, you are on the road of recovery, accompanied by your uncle Rhodey. After Rhodey has finally convinced you, you agree to reunite with Sam Wilson and help him with his tech. He introduces you to another techie nerd, named Joaquin Torres, for the first time. Will you let your phobia get in the way and push away your new found family and this beautiful boy? Or will you get better and let yourself be loved once again?

Warnings: Mentions of Death and Depression/Depressive episodes, Mentions of Panic Attacks, Abuse by a parent (not Tony), Weight loss due to stress, Nightmares, Some cursing, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Steve Rogers Slander- please don’t read this if that’s not something you’re looking for, Reader is sassy and a bit reserved because of The incident and because they’re a Stark, Reader has some phobias, Found family, also there’s a few references and hidden plots in this. 😁 (please keep in mind that I wrote this from my point of view as a south asian.)

Author’s note: I probably went overboard and this is very long + very self indulgent….but tony stark is the father who raised me and joaquin torres is my boyfriend so i Had to do this. ☺️ also lots of found family content with Rhodey, Sam and Bucky. Set around the time of TFATWS. Please let me know if there’s any changes to be made if I have written anything wrong.

series masterlist

Moving back to New York was extremely hard and painful for you ever since your dad passed away. That was the city that you were born and raised in and it had the ghosts of your father’s and family’s moments everywhere. But you told Pepper that you couldn’t handle living in that cabin anymore because 1. you were going stir crazy since you loved the hustle bustle of a city and 2. the depressive episodes were more frequent than ever.

You’d think living in your family cabin that has your father’s memories written across every wall would help you…but you’re a Stark. Ignoring your own problems and running away from emotions is kind of your specialty. Hereditary, even.

Pepper, bless her heart, told you that she’s happy you are trying to get back your life back on track and that she would always be there for you. Even if you called her Pepper, she’s always been your Mother.

Hardest part of it all was saying goodbye to Morgan. Little Morgan who was so attached to you and vice versa. She was too young to even process her father’s death, how was she supposed to understand why her elder sibling was never leaving their room? And now that same sibling was going too far away from their house. It took Pepper, Happy and you to console Morgan and she was finally ready to send you off–only with a (pinky) promise of visiting her during holidays.

Rhodey and Happy helped you settle in your newest house- a penthouse in manhattan that your dad left behind for you. That was 3 months ago. Now, fully settled in your new space, you’ve decided to restart college to finish your degree that was put on pause because of a giant purple psycho. You had decided you will stop the whole Avenger shit the moment you lost your dad. You needed to leave that life behind in order to move on, and what better than being filthy educated and eventually finding a normal job?

Well, let’s just say it didn’t go as planned.

I mean, really, were you expecting to just magically heal from the most traumatic time of your life in three months, with no therapy or contact from your family and friends?

Panic attacks are like your best friends. The other day you had a panic attack because you found a scarf that was gifted to you by your dad. Embarrassing, really.

Nightmares are something you have been walking hand-in-hand with since your dad was kidnapped and you were just a little kid. But now, every night you close your eyes and you see your father’s lifeless eyes staring back into yours.So it’s not surprising that you have become insomniac as well.

Overall, you were continuing the Stark legacy of being severely mentally ill but not doing anything to help it or accepting any help. The only difference was that you chose NOT to drink until you blacked out because after watching your dad do that as a kid, you developed a strong distaste for any type of alcohol. It was so bad, that you got diagnosed with dispophobia– a persistent fear of drinking alcohol. It’s real, look it up.

You chose the other option—pushing everyone around you away until you wallowed in your misery, loneliness and sorrows.

This behaviour of yours was constantly stressing Pepper, Rhodey and Happy out. All three of them did their best to help you and make you socialise, but everytime they approached, you either ignored their calls and messages or told them you were busy (by busy you meant that you were tinkering on your father’s old suits that you moved to your apartment, but you didn’t tell them that.)

Even FRIDAY tried giving them updates on your well-being but you had threatened the AI to not “leak” any of your “information”. This was giving the three of them a major déjà vu. Eventually, they had enough and Rhodey came to your house one day because he knew he’s the only one who can call out your shit. He kinda had a Phd in tackling the Stark family’s issues.

“Look kid, it’s been 3 months. You haven’t bothered to call or text any of us. We didn’t even know if you were alive since you have banned FRIDAY from reporting anything to us as well. Can you please spend one evening with us for a dinner? Hell, if not all of us,then atleast meet up with Morgan?”, Rhodey said firmly with his eyebrows furrowed and arms folded tightly around his chest, leaning on your kitchen island.

You were making your dinner when he decided to come over. Trying your best to be nonchalant, you kept stirring the soup with your back to him, and scoffed, “You sound exactly like dad sometimes.”

Rhodey closed his eyes in frustration. “That’s not important right now. You’re doing the same thing that Tony did when he was feeling all these… emotions. Please, stop this kiddo. You’ve got all of us. Always. Just reach out once and we’ll be there to catch you”, he replied in a soft tone.

You took a deep breath and he saw your shoulders go up and down. You stopped stirring the soup, turned the gas off and turned around to face him.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, making yourself smaller, and intently focused on your shoes to avoid meeting his eyes.

“There’s nothing to ask. I’ve already told you I will be starting college soon. I’ll keep myself productive and occupied. It’ll be alright, don’t worry about me”, you say, your voice scratchy after not using it for a long time.

Rhodey observed you with his sharp gaze. You knew you were screwed the moment you saw Rhodey at the door because he could read you like a book. Honestly, it was extremely intimidating but you will never admit that to his face. He’s been around for your whole life- right from your birth. He knew you like you were his own child.

“FRIDAY, activate babysitter protocol”, he said, his voice stern.

You snapped your gaze up from your shoes to stare at him in confusion.

“On it Mr. Rhodes”, FRIDAY replied.

“What the hell is this?”, you replied narrowing your eyes at him.

“I know you blocked FRIDAY from telling us anything about you. Did you know Tony had an emergency protocol built in so that if there’s anything that went wrong while you were alone, FRIDAY would update him?”, Rhodey replied nonchalantly.

You widened your eyes and immediately teared up on hearing how protective your dad was over you. You were too tired to fight back so you just shut your eyes and wrapped your arms around your body tighter.

“FRIDAY, give me a proper run down of the kid’s activities and schedule in this past month. Including their health”, Rhodey asked the AI while observing you closely.

“OK sir. In this month, they have stepped out of the house only once for buying groceries. The rest of the month they’ve been at home, fixing Mr Stark’s suits”, FRIDAY finished.

At this, Rhodey’s eyes widened. “Tony’s suits? How did you even get these suits?” “They sneaked in the suits 2 months ago, Sir”, Rhodey’s eyes snapped back to yours. 2 months ago- right after you moved in. The suits were at the new compound and they were heavily guarded.

They should’ve known better because did they really expect you, a genius like your father, to not figure out how to hack the systems? It was a cakewalk for you.

You scrunched your eyes in shame and bowed your head. “Kid….”, he sighed.

“Tell me about their health, FRI”, Rhodey asked in a pained voice.

“They’ve had panic attacks almost every week. I suggested taking medication or visiting the therapist, but my requests were ignored. I’ve also observed a spike in their heartbeat everytime a loud noise is heard. They have nightmares regularly due to which they have stopped sleeping altogether. All the stress has made them lose weight, their appetite has lessened and has made them more irritable and unpredictable”, FRIDAY finished (snitched, you think).

Hearing it from someone else made it sound so much worse. You couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down your face.

You were too busy keeping the sobs from coming out of your mouth to notice Rhodey coming closer and wrapping his arms around you. He brought you closer and hugged you tightly and that completely broke you.

You leaned your head against his chest and wrapped your arms around his torso and just sobbed. Rhodey hushed you gently and rubbed your back softly with one of his hands.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t deal with this, Uncle. Please. I need him back”, you said in between sobs while clutching him tightly and pressing your face into his chest. Rhodey teared up at this and put one of his hands behind your head.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Let it out. I’m so sorry I didn’t visit you sooner. I know what you’re feeling. But I’ve got you now. Please allow me to help you?”, he said weakly.

You let out a shuddering breath and tried to calm yourself down. “Okay. ”, you replied in a weak voice. Rhodey broke the hug before putting his hands on your shoulders and let you wipe your tears. He caressed your head and told you, “We’re gonna get you something to eat first. From tomorrow, we will work on your routine and talk to your therapist about your insomnia and panic attacks. And then, you will be taking lots of rest. No more tinkering on the suits endlessly or skipping meals. We will go on walks and you will have a dinner with us at the cabin soon. That okay?”, he asked gently. You looked up at him and nodded your head yes. “Good. Now, you sit your ass down and Rest. Let me prepare your dinner”, he says while moving around you to get to the stove. “Do you even know how to turn on the stove?”, you say in a stuffy voice while wiping your nose with your sleeve and side eyeing him. He abruptly pauses and turns around. “You’re such a little shit, you know that?”, he says sassily while pointing a finger at you. That brings out a genuine smile from you and you just chuckle before he starts laughing as well. Your smile fades slowly. “Thank you. This means a lot to me,” you reply softly. Both of your eyes start tearing up and he just nods his head before giving you a side hug. “Anything for my favourite Stark”, he says in a shaky voice.

2 Months Later

You and Rhodey fell into a rhythm after that night. He stayed with you for some days and got you checked with your therapist and helped you around the house. He took you out for jogs every morning, made you work out and exercise every day. This made you feel productive and gave you a routine to follow. It also improved your appetite and you started to genuinely enjoy making healthy and filling meals.

You stopped unnecessarily tinkering on the suits and the medicines prescribed by your doctor helped you sleep better. You still had a long way to go but you had finally started stepping out of the house and went to a dinner at the cabin. Happy, Pepper and Morgan were so delighted to see you and they told you how proud they are of you. You just gave all the credit to your uncle Rhodey.

Rhodey had become a major figure in your life lately. He’d always been there for you and your dad but now he was like a teacher and mentor to you. All thanks to him, you could get your life back on track. And he was happy to help you anyways because you were like his own child.

But he’d started to take you to various social events lately and you HATED that. You were always a shy and socially anxious kid (a complete opposite of your father.) So the thought of attending social events where so many people and cameras were present…that was enough to send you into an early grave.

“Rhodey….for the last time. I’m not going with you. What am I even gonna do there? Sit and yawn while all you military and political people make speeches? No thanks”, you said breathlessly and jogged a little ahead of him.

He joined you immediately, huffing and puffing, “First of all.” Huff. “Slow DOWN. Jesus Christ.” Huff. And he stopped while putting his hands on his knees.

“Keep up, lazy! We gotta keep THE War Machine kicking and alive, come on!”, you say while jogging backwards and smiling at him.

When you saw that he was not going to join you, you stopped and jogged over to him. “Lazy, my ass. I’m 60 years old, you little shit”, he said while looking up at you, eyes narrowed and hands still on his knees. Still huffing and puffing.

You chuckled and helped him stand up with your arm around his back and another arm holding his. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You wanna sit down? Might as well drink some water, I’m thirsty.”

He nods his head yes and both of you sit down on a nearby bench and take a breather. You’re quiet for sometime, soaking in the crisp morning air and looking at the water fountain in front of you when Rhodey speaks up.

“I know you hate these events. But, please come to this one. We have a reunion in order, anyways”, he says cheekily while looking at you with that big smile of his plastered on his face.

You turned your head to look at him and raised your eyebrow, “Reunion? With whom?”, you ask skeptically. “Please don’t say Steve Rogers, Rhodey. I swear to god, I will never step foot in this city again”, you say, irritated.

He scoffed, “Nah, don’t worry. That’s never happening. It’s Sam. He’s been telling me that he wants to meet you.”

You observed his face for a second to see if he was being serious. “Sam? Sam Wilson? Why would he want to meet me?”, you asked, confused. Ever since the Sokovia Accords were brought into existence and ever since you sided with your father, Steve and the others didn’t want anything to do with your family. But you didn’t have anything against any of them— well, except for Steve. That was personal.

Even back then, you told your dad that you thought Bucky was innocent and that you want him to forgive Bucky somehow. You never met your grandparents so their accident/murder didn’t affect you. And you especially didn’t give a fuck about your deadbeat grandfather who would abuse your dad, but you felt your dad’s anger was justified as he loved his mom. You didn’t have an issue with Sam either. Not even when Rhodey met with that fatal accident that made him lose his legs. You saw the footage, and Rhodey told you as well, that Sam simply dodged. He didn’t cause the fall, nor did he injure him on purpose. The fall happened because his suit malfunctioned. But since Steve was the glue that was holding them together, they avoided talking to you at all. They were simply being loyal. And we all know how Steve Rogers thanked their loyalty in the end.

You would never forgive him for breaking your dysfunctional-found-family apart by being a selfish asshole and by abandoning your dad when he needed his support the most.

Rhodey shrugged. “Dunno. But he was looking forward to meeting you. He’s the kindest man I know, kid. And I know you don’t hold a grudge against him either. Please, come with me. I promise we will go get some ice cream later”, he said earnestly and smiled.

You let out a deep sigh. “Chocolate chips. Double scoop”, you said and lifted your water bottle to drink to avoid looking at his smug expression.

“Oh, you shall get anything you ask for, your highness”, he said while extravagantly bowing at you.

You just smirked and got back up to jog.

The constant clicking of the cameras was quickly causing a throbbing ache to appear behind your eyes. You were dressed in your formal clothes, presentable as always, and entered the museum arm-in-arm with Rhodey.

After giving a thousand repetitive interviews, half of which Rhodey denied on your behalf, you finally saw the man in question—Sam Wilson. Captain America.

Honestly, you were so proud of and excited for him to take up the mantle. It wasn’t a shock that Steve handed over that shield to Sam. He deserved it.

He saw the two of you and came over to talk. As he came closer, you saw just how shocked he was to see you there.

“Whats up, man? How are you?”, Sam said while shaking hands with Rhodey and bringing him in for a hug, all the while flashing his lovely, tooth-gaped smile.

Rhodey patted his back and broke away from the hug. “The usual. I got a surprise for you”, Rhodey said while putting an arm around your shoulder.

Sam, still surprised, flashed another one of his smiles at you.

“I just can’t believe you’re here. I hope you know how grateful I am”, he said earnestly while putting his hand out to shake yours.

You looked at his hand and shook it. “I’m surprised you wanted to meet me”, you say while smirking at him.

His smile faded after hearing that and he looked at you with a solemn expression.

“Yeah. I’m sorry it took me so long. I-” “Mr. Wilson, it’s your turn to speak.” Sam looked back at the woman and nodded his head at her.

“Uh…I’ll catch up with you after all this is done. Please wait until then?”, Sam turned around and asked you, nervously.

Rhodey looked at you to decipher your reaction. “Okay. I’ll wait. But not for long and not in front of these cameras”, you say coolly.

Sam smiles at you and Rhodey before approaching the stage.

“See? That wasn’t so bad”, Rhodey says while leading you to sit at the front row.

“We’ll see about that— not the front row, Rhodes... It’s like you want me to run away”, you groaned while slowing your pace.

Rhodey just laughs and pats your shoulder. “Come on, I’ll be next to you the whole time. You can even crush my hand if you want to.”

You and Rhodey sat down and watched Sam approach the stage.

Sam looked sharp in his well-fitted suit but something about his expression screamed anxiety.

He began his speech.

“Steve represented the best in all of us. Courageous, righteous, hopeful. And he mastered posing stoically”, everyone chuckled at that. You scoffed.

“The world has been forever changed. A few months ago, billions of people reappeared after five years away, sending the world into turmoil. We need new heroes. Ones suited for the times we're in. Symbols...are nothing without the women and men that give them meaning. And this thing...”, he chuckles before picking up the shield and continuing.

“I don't know if there's ever been a greater symbol. But it's more about the man who propped it up, and he's gone. So, today we honor Steve's legacy. But also, we look to the future. So, thank you, Captain America. But this belongs to you”, Sam concluded and handed over the shield to the museum security who then put encased it in a glass case. The camera flashes went off.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. You knew something was wrong the moment Sam stepped up on the stage. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

You furrowed your eyebrows and turned your head to look at Rhodey.

“Why did he give up the shield?”, you asked confused.

Rhodey solemnly smiled.

“Maybe try talking to Sam about this?”, he explained to you, gently.

You nodded your head in understanding.

Rhodey went over to talk to Sam while you checked out the other exhibits to give them a little privacy.

You ended up looking at Bucky’s exhibit.

They were displaying those clips of him in the 40s, smiling and free of all the pain, and they made your heart clench in sadness and guilt. He deserved better.

“Still can’t believe bionic staring machine was a heartbreaker back then”, you heard Sam’s voice behind you.

You looked at him and smirked.

“As if he’s not a heartbreaker anymore. Those baby blue’s? Could break a grandma’s heart too, which is funny because he would still be older than her”, you joked and looked back at the display.

Sam stood to your right with his hands in his pockets. He laughed at your joke and looked up at the TV displaying Steve and Bucky together.

He let out a sigh and brought his lips together in a thin line.

You looked over to him and studied his profile observed the way he carried tension in his shoulders.

“Penny for your thoughts?”, you asked him gently.

He shut his eyes and looked down, letting out another deep sigh.

“Kid…I’m sorry”, he said, his voice heavy with guilt.

You furrowed your brows.

“For what?”, you asked, genuinely confused.

Sam finally looked up at you with teary eyes. His brows scrunched together.

“Everything. The accords…Rhodey’s acci- injuries. For-for not making an attempt to maintain contact with you, for-”

“Hey. Don’t. I’m not angry about any of that. I never was. And I will never hold a grudge against anyone that wasn’t on my da- on our side”, you cut him off and explained to him firmly. “And if Rhodey isn’t upset about his accident, then who am I to question it? I know you didn’t dodge. It was an accident. I saw the footage way back then, Sam”, you laid your hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

He was overcome with emotion. He deflated as if years’ worth of weight on his shoulders had been lifted off of him. He simply nodded his head.

“If anything, I’m sorry. For everything you had to go through. I hope you’re doing better, now”, you continued.

Sam gave you a half smile.

“Yeah, I’m good. Helpin’ out my sister with the house and my nephews.”

You raised your eyebrows, surprised. You didn’t know he had a sister or nephews.

Sam chuckled. “Yeah…I got a younger sister and 2 nephews— AJ and Cass.”

You smiled. “I had no idea. I’m glad you guys can live together again”, you replied sincerely.

“Thank you, kid. I had no idea you’re so….nice”, he smirked.

You let out a loud laugh. Contrary to popular belief and rumours, you were a good and polite kid. Your dad, Pepper, Rhodey and Happy made sure of that. It was always funny to find out how people would judge you on the basis of your last name. But, it could also be because of your resting bitch face.

Both of you quieted down and looked at the display once again, when you decided to finally bring it up.

“Sam, why’d you give up the shield?”, you asked curiously.

He pursed his lips.

“That shield is heavy. And I don’t know if this country is ready to see a man like me bear the weight of it. No matter how many times everyone keeps telling me that it was Steve’s choice, they don’t know the consequences of me being Captain America until they wear my shoes. Steve didn’t know it either because at the end of the day, our skin colour doesn’t match and that isn’t suitable for the shield”, he replied heavily.

It felt like someone had put cold water on top of you, his words cutting straight through your ignorance. The pressure that Sam was undergoing would never be understood by anyone who didn’t look like him. That’s why Rhodey was so understanding of his decision.

You straightened up.

“Oh. Sam, I’m so sorry. I didn’t-”, you paused to gather your thoughts and word them carefully. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I should’ve known better. I understand. And I respect your decision”, you replied, genuine understanding dripping from your words.

Sam looked at you, surprised. He wasn’t expecting you to understand his situation.

“That’s- it’s..alright kid. Thank you for understanding me. It means a lot”, he replied sincerely and patted your shoulder.

You were about to take his leave when he spoke up.

“Listen, I got a proposal for you.”

You quirked an eyebrow.

“Just…hear me out, okay? Rhodey told me to keep an eye out for you whenever he’s busy. Says you do well with discipline in your routine. If you don’t mind, you could join me and help me out with the tech stuff, you know?”, he said hesitantly.

You were about to deny his offer when he put his hands out in a placating gesture.

“I know, it’s been a long time. You’re not interested in this stuff anymore. But I could use some extra hands and who better than a Stark to help out with technology, right? And, who knows, maybe you’ll make a friend”, he tried to convince you.

“A friend? You think I’m some loner or what, Wilson? (You kind of were, a loner, but we will ignore that.) And just who is this friend?”, you asked him with narrowed eyes.

“He’s my new team member. A tech savvy nerd, like you. You’ll get along, trust me. Except I’ll warn you, that boy yaps a Lot”, Sam replied while chuckling.

That sounded way too familiar to you. You immediately froze and just stared at Sam, lost in thought. All those unwanted and painful memories were coming back to you.

Sam put his hand on your shoulder and you snapped out of your stupor.

“You don’t have to answer me immediately. Take your time, the offer is always open for you. Okay?”, he asked hopefully, ever the optimistic counselor.

You let out a big sigh.

“I don’t know. I’ll see”, you murmured. You could feel that uneasy feeling creep up your veins that told you to shut down, keep everyone away and to run somewhere far away where you could be isolated in peace.

You were finally feeling comfortable in your little bubble that consisted of you, Rhodey, Pepper, Happy and Morgan. Now you had to go out and make yourself accommodating and welcoming again. You had to repeat everything and start from scratch. It was a lot. You were not ready for that.

Healing is never linear, you knew that. But you were doing so well for the past two months. You clenched your fists and begged your mind to keep it together. You were pretty good at masking it.

Sam just nodded his head and patted your arm.

“Come on, I’ll walk you and Rhodey off.”

You both returned to Rhodey and said your goodbyes.

“See ya, old man. Take care of yo’self, alright?”, Sam said while hugging Rhodey.

“You too, Wilson”, Rhodey said before breaking the hug and patting Sam’s back.

“I’m proud of you, Sam. Never forget that”, Rhodey said gently.

Sam just smiled weakly and patted Rhodey’s shoulder before turning to look at you.

You looked at him and gave him a barely there smile before surprising him with a hug. You don’t know what came over you but you just wanted him to know that you appreciated his support and the conversation that you two had back there. Your words failed you, so you did the next best thing you knew– a hug.

He looked at Rhodey over your shoulder and patted your back like an older brother.

“Take care, kid. Think about what I said”, he said after breaking off the hug.

You simply nodded your head yes.

“And both of you are invited to the family cookout, alright? Rhodes, make sure you bring them with you. Sarah makes a mean cornbread”, Sam says while pointing at you.

Rhodey chuckles and you grin before departing.

You sat in the car and looked out of the window, deep in thought. You were processing your conversation with Sam and debating whether you should join him, or not. You couldn’t help but keep thinking about this friend that he mentioned and how he reminded you too much of-

“Whatcha thinkin’?”, Rhodey asked lightly, as if to not startle you.

You glanced back at him and turned your attention to the front of the car. You sighed softly.

“Had a good chat with Sam. We apologised to each other and sorted out our misconceptions.”

“That’s good, right?”, Rhodey asked and tilted his head to look at you.

You nodded. “Yeah. It was really nice to clear all of that up. He’s so…lovely to talk to. We also talked about his decision to give up the shield. I felt so stupid when he explained it to me. How could I not understand that beforehand?”, you said while clenching your jaw, feeling guilty for judging his decision.

Rhodey gave you a soft smile.

“Atleast you’re self-aware, sweetheart”, he said lightly.

You finally gave him a smile.

“Yeah. He also gave me an offer. To join him”, you said hesitantly.

Rhodey smirked knowingly. Sam had already discussed this with him.

“And? What’re you thinking?”, Rhodey asked nonchalantly so as to not freak you out.

You let out a deep breath.

“I don’t know. I’ll think over it”, you replied with finality in your tone.

Rhodey felt the walls build up again so he backed off instead of pestering you to talk more.

“That’s okay. You can take all the time you want, kid. There’s no rush”, Rhodey said sincerely.

You looked at him and squeezed his hand.

“Shall we go get that ice-cream now, your highness?”, Rhodey joked.

You finally let out a chuckle and nodded your head yes before turning your attention back towards the window. You let out a sigh.

You were not going to get any sleep tonight.

Part 2

—————————————————————————

AN: Whew. This was so LONG, I’m so sorry. 😭🙏 but I just couldn’t stop writing because I love me a stark!reader as that’s literally me but also I needed some found family content + closure between the stark family and the cap fam, too. Which is why I had to break it in 2 parts. Our lovebirds will meet in the 2nd part. Keep guessing the references and this mystery person until then.😛 thank you for reading!

[magikdarkholme]

— starks daughter and the falcon

pairing — Joaquín Torres x femstark!reader

summary — some random posts and comments to start off my little universe i may be creating… WE SHALL SEE!

notes — fc is Enya umanzor, using her cuz she’s cool and pretty asf but reader doesn’t have to look like that!!!!

masterlist

An - Tony is sooo dad core, like the 👍 …😭😭also some usernames etc might be inconsistent but we move

@y/n

liked by JoaquínTorres, SamWilson, P.Parker2001 and 2,397,403 others

y/n: for once I have no words 🙂‍↔️

SamWilson: Yeah cuz you always yapping.

⤷y/n: Don’t give me attitude boy. I remember what you did…

Avengersfan3000: ooo lol, I wonder what Sam did

⤷y/n: He got caught following ai girls on Instagram… @SamWilson watch your back

Starkgirl: LOL NOT AGAIN SAM

Joaquintorres: wow lol my gf is so pretty lol

⤷Tonystark: Okay bud, calm down

Tonystark: 👍

⤷y/n: Wow... no need for the aggression dad.

CarolDanvers: Is that my shirt?

⤷y/n: Whattttt... lol noooo just.. very similar

@y/n

liked by Kate.bishop, N.romanoff, P.Parker2001 and 1,300,000 others

y/n: #pepperony4eva #myparentsarebetterthanurs

P.parker2001: not pictured - what he did after :/

⤷user234: omg what did he do after?

⤷y/n: He started off by throwing water at me and peter, then he launched FRESH strawberrys at us :/ Tony Stark is not a good person y'all. + pep is allergic too strawberries and he forgot.. AGAIN.

stargirl13: LMAOO are we surprised? did y'all see his expo? this man is so unserious...

Joaquintorres: Awe :) my parents in law are so cute

⤷Tonystark: You are ONE step away from me deleting all of your accounts, snd preventing you from creating new ones.

⤷y/n: If you do that i will tell mom what you did.. she wont be happy. Leave my bf alone damn!!!!

@Joaquintorres

liked by Samwilson, N.romanoff, y/n and 800,000 others

Joaquintorres: i am THE ‘i❤️mygf’ truther … i really do LOVE MY GF!!!!

Tonystark: lol u flopped

⤷y/n: WHO taught you that…

⤷P.parker2001: my bad…

Samwilson: Soon you wont have a ‘gf’. Stop acting lame boy.

User69: He is too hot for her..

⤷y/n: thats not what yo mama said last night

@y/n

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Rule Breaker

Summary: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader -> Your dad, Tony Stark, has one rule. Don't leave the house after midnight. So what happens when Bucky Barnes finds you breaking that rule?

Disclaimer: Fluff, some angst, but mostly fluff, reader is in mid-twenties, kinda ignoring the end of CW, brief mention of periods, Bucky gets nightmares and reader helps, falling asleep on the sofa together, a bike ride with Bucky, falling in love, happy/open ended. Not fully proof read.

With having Tony Stark as your, technical, dad – there had only ever been one rule in the house. 

No leaving the house after midnight. 

And he made you swear to it as a kid, and on your eighteenth birthday. That, no matter where you were in the world; with him or without him. You wouldn’t leave the house after midnight. 

“There’s a lot of terrible people out there, and I don’t want you getting hurt.” 

That, after a lot of sarcastic jokes and ramblings, is what he would tell you. That he didn’t want you getting hurt. Of course, you tried your best not to break it. 

And you didn’t. 

Until one night after your college roommate pounded their fist on the door and told you they needed to rush their friend to the emergency room. And the night when you, technically, were out after midnight. But could that really be considered staying out when you were still at the library you’d walked into at ten in the morning and hadn’t left all day?

And until the nights Bucky caught you sneaking out. 

You’d left your room like usual, a little after one in the morning. Everyone, including the super soldiers, were snug in their beds fast asleep. With your jacket in one hand, and your shoes in the other, you padded your way as quickly and as quietly as you could down the hall. 

You paused before every door and waited ten seconds before making it past their door in two jumps. Natasha had taught you ballet as a teenager, which came in handy for moments like that. 

Eventually, you made it into the kitchen. 

Nobody was awake. 

You grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, stuffed it into your bag and swiftly made your way down to the garage. 

Nobody was awake and you were four minutes away from leaving. 

Until you heard a voice. 

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You spun around so fast, you almost gave yourself whiplash. “Bucky,” you sounded shocked. 

He just stared you down. 

“I was just…going out.”

“After midnight?” Bucky questioned. 

You nodded. “Yep, supply run.”

“Supply run? What supplies do you need? Because Natasha did the shopping this week and I know she got pads and tampons because she made me go and get them.” Bucky told you. “And any other supplies are stocked in the medical wing. So, I’ll ask again; where do you think you’re going?”

He stared you down again, and this time you sighed. 

“Okay, I’ll tell you. But you have to promise you won’t tell my dad.”

Bucky just waited. 

“I’m going to the beach.”

“On my stolen bike?”

You shrugged a little, “Well, technically, it’s not stolen. Just temporarily borrowed.”

“Without my knowledge?”

You confirmed his statement slowly, “Without…your knowledge. Look, please, please don’t be mad or tell my dad. I just…I need to get out of here and- what- what are you doing?”

Bucky rounded you, placing your bag into the storage holder before planting himself on the bike. 

“What does it look like? I’m coming with you.”

“You don’t-”

Bucky looked at you. “Unless you’d like for Tony to find out you’ve been breaking his one rule for three weeks straight, I’m coming with you.”

You sighed, “Fine.”

“Hop on,” he told you before he added, “Hold on tight.”

You did so as he kicked the stand away and started to rev the engine as quietly as he could. Thirty seconds later, you were outside on the road. After ten minutes, you were away from the city and headed towards the coast line. 

“How did you…” You were shocked and surprised that Bucky knew where you wanted to go. Either he was a mind reader, or he wanted to go, too. 

“You cleaned the bike but not your boots. There was sand around my bike.” 

Or just incredibly observant. 

As Bucky lifted himself from the bike, he watched you jog over to a food stand not too far from where he parked. The owner of the truck smiled down at you. 

“The usual?”

You nodded. “Double it. I’ve got a guest.”

“You got it, kid. Be right with you.”

You smiled at the owner. “Thanks.”

Five minutes later, you walked back with a paper bag in your hand. Then you threw Bucky a smile. “Come on, I don’t wanna miss it.”

He followed behind you, up the small sand hill before he looked around to find you already halfway up the sand dune to his right. He was quick to follow. 

You eventually sat down one sand dune over. With no sun to heat it, the sand was cold beneath him as he sat down, but you didn’t seem to care. Your gaze looked out over the dark sky that was just starting to grow a few shades lighter than when you’d first left the compound. 

After a few minutes of quiet breathing, you took a take-away box out of the bag and handed it to him, before opening up your own. 

“They’re the best fries in the whole world. I have been to almost every major city in the world and none of them beat this.”

Bucky watched you for a moment before he popped open his box. The heat was the first thing to hit his face, then the smell. Freshly cooked fries, with the skin, and some kind of peppery kick. 

Bucky kept your silence for a while as the sky began turning brighter. But with one question still bugging him, he felt the need to ask. 

“Why do you do it?”

“Why do I do what?” You asked. 

“Sneak out. Break his rule. From what I know, you’re a smart person. Why break his one rule?”

You were truthful when you answered Bucky’s question. There was no reason to lie to him. Maybe you didn’t talk a lot, but you were still friends. He was the one who stayed up with you when everyone else went to bed. You were the one to stay with him when he went to the gym during the day, after a nightmare. You were the one who stayed so he wouldn’t be alone. He was the one who stayed so you wouldn’t be alone. 

“I needed some time to myself without everyone’s questions,” you told him. “About my future, my plans, grad school projects, Shield initiatives, Avengers panels. Everything. I also haven’t been sleeping that much and…I’m already awake, might as well see something beautiful.”

Bucky eventually turned his eyes from you to the rising sun in the distance. But then he looked back at you, watching the rays slowly but surely light up your face. The slightly different colours in your hair glowing in lighter and darker shades. 

Then he saw your eyes. 

A golden hue dusted over your iris, and for the first time, he saw you clearly. He’d seen you for a while. The way you talked, the way you walked, the way you carried yourself despite the ego centric maniacs you had to deal with almost every day. 

But sitting on cold sand, his lap heated from a take-away container box and the sun slowly warming his own face, he saw you. 

He saw the kindness in your eyes, like he always did. But he also saw the tiredness. The need for freedom. The need for a break, even if just for a couple of hours. He saw the colour of your eyes and realised that he no longer had a word for them. Just that stating the colour wasn’t enough. 

Bucky saw how, in the fresh light of day, you were simply…you. 

You weren’t Tony Stark’s daughter, or a part-time Shield agent. Hell, you weren’t even a grad-student at that moment. You were…you. 

“What?” You asked, hiding your smile by popping another couple of fries into your mouth. “You’re looking at me funny.”

Bucky managed to recover himself and shook his head with a slight smile. “Nothing. Just…next time you wanna come out here, tell me and I’ll come with you.”

You felt a small eruption of excitement in your belly at his comment. You’d been sneaking out for so long in order to get away from everyone, you’d forgotten how nice it was to actually have company every once in a while. 

“Okay, but I’m gonna hold you to that.”

Bucky smiled. “I hope so.”

And thankfully for Bucky, you did. 

Slowly but surely, it became your go-to thing with him. Even on the weeks where he had a mission, if you weren’t at home, he knew where he could find you. And you’d save him a box of fries each time. 

As the weeks led on into months, you and Bucky started to grow closer. And you began to sleep more. 

It had started when, like you would do on the beach, you laid your head on his shoulder during a movie night and fell almost immediately to sleep. You woke up in your own bed in the morning, but you’d missed your alarm. 

With that happening more often, Bucky started falling asleep next to you, too. And, as much as Tony would groan about it, Pepper would just shove him lightly on the back to keep him walking. 

“Leave them be, they’re not harming anyone.”

“They’re sleeping together, Pep. She’s my kid.”

Pepper nodded. “Who is in her mid-twenties and already has two PhD’s to her name. Leave them be.”

 Tony agreed, but he still didn’t like it. And the parent inside of him hated it even more so when he woke up in the morning to find out he was the first one awake. Meaning, when he walked back into the living area, he found you asleep on Bucky’s chest, both of you laid under a blanket on the sofa. 

But despite all the feelings…he did take a picture. 

Bucky was Steve’s friend. And Tony trusted Steve. So, in a very, very roundabout way, he trusted Bucky, too. 

But you were still his kid. 

Then, after a few months, you stopped sleeping. 

A heavy snow had settled over the country so the beach was off limits, as were the roads. So, sitting in front of the fire in the silence of the compound whilst looking out to the never ending forest was starting to become the next best thing. 

However, it was in this silence you started to hear noises. Faint cries, rough movements of bed sheets and then Friday’s voice quietly talking through your phone. 

“It seems Mr Barnes is having a nightmare.”

You were on your feet immediately, rushing down the hallway, your footsteps muffled by your thermal socks. His door opened with a soft click and that was where you saw him. 

Tangled in his bedsheets, his muscles tensing, his breathing uneven, and a stream of quiet Russian words falling from his lips. 

You hurried forward and sat on the edge of the bed, calling his name. For a moment, his voice became almost silent, but then the words started again. So, you touched his arm. And then his other. 

Keeping his name on your lips like a prayer, you shook him awake. At first, he woke up with a start. Disoriented and confused at his surroundings. Then his hearing focused on your voice like you were asking him to. 

“You’re safe. Just keep focusing on my voice. Your heart is moving too fast, Bucky. I need you to calm down.” You nodded as his hand reached out and held your arm, his head low. “That’s it, just…keep breathing. In and out. Deep, slow breaths.”

As his breathing evened out, he swallowed thickly. You reached for the glass of water on the side of his bed and handed it to him. He downed most of it before handing you back the glass with a shaky hand. 

The hand you held steady as you put the glass back on his bedside table. 

“Did I…did I wake you?”

You’d never heard Bucky’s voice so…scared. So small and tired. 

You shook your head. “No. I was already awake. I thought I heard something then Friday told me. Just keep breathing.”

“Will you stay?” 

He asked before he could stop himself, but at that moment, he was too terrified to be alone. You nodded. 

“For as long as you need me.”

It took a few minutes before he had the strength to move, but once he finally did, you turned him onto his side. Carefully, you slotted your legs into the arch of his, wrapped your arm over his ribcage and pressed your forehead against his back. 

His hand held onto yours just over his heart as he fell asleep. And you did, too – by counting the steading beats of his heart as you stayed with him. 

By the time either of you woke up, you were practically lying exactly on top of him, buried under the duvet covers with him. 

Even long after you knew he was awake, you both stayed still. Too worried to move, too scared to let go and face reality outside his bedroom door. You were Tony Stark’s daughter, and barely two years ago, Bucky had been the subject of a world wide manhunt. 

“How are you feeling?” You asked after a while. 

He felt himself swallow his nerves, but his voice still came out quiet and a little shaky. “Better. Thank…thank you for staying.”

You moved a little in order to look up at him. “You don’t have to thank me for staying, but you’re welcome.”

In the short moment Bucky looked down to face you, his brain seemed to forget why you had stayed, why you had even come  into his room at all. As if…you were meant to be beside him. As if you were always meant to stay right beside him. 

And as you felt his hand flex over your arm, you let yourself think the same too. 

But only for a moment. 

Because the wave of regret came crashing over him and he turned to look at his ceiling. 

“You’re not him anymore, Buck.”

With his other hand, he pinched the bridge of his nose to try and stop the tears and calm the fear building in his chest. 

“I still have nightmares. That means I remember. And that…it’s still in there.”

You shook your head and reached up to turn his head to look at you. “Hey, hey. Look at me.”

When you knew he was focusing on you and not the voices inside his head, you spoke. “I…I know I don’t know what it’s like…to go through what you did. I wasn’t there to see it, or live it. But I know you. I see you, Bucky. You are kind, and protective and god only knows the lengths you’d go to in order to help someone. The Winter Soldier…that was conditioning. That was forceful and brutal.”

If you could look deeper into his eyes, you did. 

“But that isn’t you, Bucky. It never was. It was Hydra. All that guilt, all that blame you’re putting on yourself. That belongs to them, not you.”

A tear slipped from Bucky’s eyes, but you wiped it away as it hit his cheek. 

“You’re a good person, James. I see you, I trust you and I love you. And those last two things…I don’t feel those things for just anybody.”

A small laugh left Bucky and you smiled, watching a little bit of weight leave his shoulders. You felt his hand clasp over yours before he turned his head and kissed your palm, twice and your wrist once. 

Then you leaned up and hugged him. Your legs tangled with his as he buried his face into the crook of your neck and he held on just a little tighter. 

[love-hs28]

Late Nights and Close Calls

Summary: You and Peter sneak a bottle of champagne from one of your dad’s - Tony Stark’s - parties at the Avengers Tower. Giggling and hanging out in your room, one quiet moment leads to you almost confessing your feelings to your best friend. 

Mcu!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader Fluff 1.2k Words Posted on: 2-19-2025 masterlist

The bass from the party downstairs thrums through the walls of the Avengers Tower, muffled but insistent, like the pulse of New York City itself. You lean against the door to your bedroom, biting back a grin as Peter scrambles to follow you inside and shut the door behind him, cradling a stolen bottle of champagne like it was radioactive. 

“I can’t believe you actually went through with it,” you whisper, your voice tinged with awe and laughter. You walk over to your bed and flop down on the mattress, Peter quick to follow. 

He turns to face you, his boyish grin equal parts triumph and nervous energy. “What can I say? I thrive under pressure.” He wiggles the bottle in his hands. “Besides, it’s not like Mr. Stark’s going to miss one bottle right?” You know he’s trying to convince both himself and you of this. 

You let out a snort of laughter, crossing your legs as you got comfortable on your bed and as Peter sat next to you, leaning against the wall. “I sure hope not. We’re dead if he catches us. And by ‘we’, I mean you.” 

Peter smirks, a teasing edge in his voice. “Good to know where your loyalties lie, Stark.” 

You roll your eyes, but are unable to hide your smile as you reach and grab two mismatched mugs from your nightstand. One of them has a Spider-Man design on it that Peter had jokingly given you as a birthday present, and he secretly smiled to himself at the realization that you’d actually been using it. 

“Here. Fancy drinking glasses for our super-classy operation.” 

Peter chuckles and pops the cork with a loud pop, making both of you jump and laugh. Bubbles froth over the top, and he quickly pours some into the mugs in your hands, spilling more than he probably should. 

“To bad decisions and avoiding your dad’s wrath,” Peter says, setting the bottle on the nightstand to grab his mug from you, holding it up in a mock toast. 

“To bad influences,” you shoot back, clinking your mug against his. You both take a sip, eyes smiling at each other over the tops of the cups.

The champagne was sweet and fizzy, a little stronger than you had expected, but the warmth it brought to your chest was welcome. You scoot over you so you’re sitting next to Peter, your shoulders close enough to touch every time one of you moves. 

“This is way better than listening to my dad schmooze with a bunch of billionaires,” you say after a minute or two of talking, tipping your mug towards Peter and resting your head on his shoulder for a moment. 

“You mean you’re not interested in talks about stock portfolios and advanced AI?” Peter quips, raising a teasing eyebrow. 

You laugh, the sound light and easy thanks to the drink. “Not even a little.” 

The two of you settle into a rhythm of a familiar banter and conversation, the champagne loosening any nerves. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d laughed this much. Peter was good at that - at making you forget the weight of expectations, the constant pressure to be more than just the Tony Stark’s daughter. 

Somewhere in the middle of a story about one of Peter’s disastrous attempts to ask a girl to homecoming freshman year, you found yourself staring at him. His face was animated, his hands gesturing wildly as he spoke. The soft glow of the city lights through your window and your desk lamp cast golden highlights in his hair, and his eyes—warm and expressive—crinkled at the corners when he laughed. It was one of your favorite things about him. 

You didn’t realize you were smiling until Peter stopped mid-sentence, turning his head to meet your gaze. 

“What?” he asks, his voice softer now, the teasing edge gone. 

You shake your head, heart fluttering in a way you didn’t quite know how to handle. Damn, this champagne was making it hard to think… it totally wasn’t Peter that was causing your brain to short-circuit, right? 

“Nothing. Just… you’re really great, you know that right? I’m glad you're my best friend.” 

Peter blushes, looking at his mug and trying, but failing, to suppress a smile. “Thanks, y/n. I’m glad you’re my best friend too.” 

He turns his head to look at you again, and your breath catches, the words hanging between the two of you like a live wire. For a moment, you think he might say something more—something that you were also thinking, something that would change your friendship forever. 

Another moment of silence passes as you just stare into each other’s eyes. You get a sudden urge of confidence, thanks to the effects of the alcohol neither of you were very familiar with. 

“Peter, I–” 

A loud boom from outside causes you both to jump, and your heads turn to look out your window, where you see an array of fireworks going off, some in the shape of Iron Man’s helmet. It was as if Tony was listening in on you and purposely stopped you from saying what you were about to confess.

Great timing, dad. Thanks a lot.

Peter laughs awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. “Your dad sure knows how to throw a party,” he turns to meet your eyes, but looks away quickly with a shy smile, still blushing from your almost-confession. 

You laugh softly, also avoiding Peter’s gaze and fixing your stare to your mug. “No kidding.” You didn’t know if you were thankful for the interruption or should yell at your dad later for setting off his stupid fireworks. Maybe it was for the better, though; Peter seemed to want to ignore it, so maybe you should too. 

What you hadn’t noticed, though, was that Peter had also been staring at you all night, just as much as you were staring at him, if not more. 

Thankfully, the effects of the champagne hadn’t quite faded yet, so the awkwardness between you two faded as quickly as it had appeared; something that always seemed to be happening to the two of you. 

You bump your shoulder against Peter’s. “Wanna head back out there?” 

Peter smiles at you, taking a sip of his champagne. “Nah, I’d rather stay here with you. Besides, I think it would be pretty obvious that we’ve been, you know, having fun up here.” 

You blush at the accidental insinuation that Peter had just made, but you knew he only meant that you had been drinking. He seemed oblivious to it though, so you decided not to make a joke about it and spare yourselves any more awkwardness. 

“True,” you say with a soft laugh, “I’d rather be here too, anyways. You don’t totally suck to hang out with.” 

Peter laughs softly and it’s his turn to bump your shoulder with his, the slight contact almost making you shiver. “Yeah, yeah, you’re not so bad yourself.” 

You spent the next hour or two doing the same thing you always did—making each other laugh and testing the hell out of Peter. And, even though neither of you said what you were really thinking, it was okay. You knew there would be other moments—other nights like this where the words might finally spill out. 

For now, this was enough.

Thank you for reading! My first mcu!peter fic yay!! I have lots more in my drafts lol, so lmk if u wanna see more of himmmm. Tom Holland was my first ever celebrity crush and I am a MASSIVE Marvel fan, so this Peter holds a special place in my heart :) Again, thanks for readin and I hope you liked itttt! xoxo

[shortnspidey]

COLLATERAL HEARTS

Bucky Barnes x Female!Stark!reader

SUMMARY: Bucky Barnes finds himself at the center of a political storm. Haunted by his past as the Winter Soldier, he is pursued by both friends and newfound enemies, unsure of who he can trust. Amidst this turmoil, he encounters someone who approaches him with a genuine sense of empathy. Unlike others who see him as a threat, she sees the person behind the trauma. The internal struggle between his desire for connection and his fear of causing harm adds to the anguish he feels daily, making every interaction a bittersweet reminder of the man he wants to be versus the man he fears he still is.

WARNINGS: Cursing, heavy angst, typical Marvel theme violence, some talks of blood and gore, self-deprecating thoughts, Tony's a shitty father (at the beginning), talks of emotional trauma & anxiety, HYDRA, strangers to friends to lovers, character deaths, trauma bonding, eventual smut!

A/N: Bucky Barnes deserves the world, marvel needs to leave him alone! So here’s my take on his happy ending! Beautiful divider graphics by @sister-lucifer <3

SERIES CHAPTERS:

(Status: Completed)

🦾 chapter one: echoes of the past

🦾 chapter two: lines drawn

🦾 chapter three: fractured bonds

🦾 chapter four: unshackled

🦾 chapter five: sanctuary

🦾 chapter six: grafting hope

🦾 chapter seven: one last stand

🦾 chapter eight: the endgame

BONUS CHAPTERS:

(read in chronological order for the best experience)

🦾 busted

🦾 busy woman

🦾 weight of the shield

🦾 the void

🦾 protector by default

🦾 juno (18+)

[delicatebarness]

You Need Me Now? | Prologue

Summary: Three years after her father's death, the eldest Stark daughter was finally starting to get her life back. But now, everything is about to change when the last man her father would have approved of asks for a favour.

Warning: This series will be 18+, Minors DNI | MCU Spoilers | Mentions of Greif & Parent Death | Alcohol Use | Smut | Political Tension | Subtle PTSD Themes | Friends-With-Benefits Relationship | Secret Relationship

Word Count: 1297

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

A/N: I've been thinking about this since Brave New World, and I'm glad I finally feel like writing here again! - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue; this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

You Need Me Now: @carrotlove | @seenthroughmia | @stell404 | @imaginecrushes | @lilulo-12 | @sebbymybaby21 | @rattyfishrock | @danzer8705 | Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series. However, I can't guarantee how often it'll be updated.

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @lanabuckybarnes

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Spring 2027–Manhattan, N.Y.C.

New York hummed beneath you—somewhat quiet, for once.  From your apartment, the city looked almost peaceful. Rare. But peace was never built for you. Or him.

Bucky’s chest was warm against your back, bare skin pressed together and covered by silk sheets. Your chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. You could hear the soft click of his vibranium arm settling as he raised it, resting it behind his head. 

“You’re thinking too loud,” Bucky murmured, voice gravelly from your shared lack of sleep. Neither of you got any of that when together. 

You turned over, pulling the sheet higher over your chest. Not that there was any modesty left between you. “It’s my apartment. I’m allowed to think as loud as I want.” 

He chuckled. A smile spread over his lips. One of the rare, real smiles. It reached his eyes. “Typical Stark,” he said, his fondness and exasperation blending together in a perfect balance. 

Propping yourself up on an elbow, your eyes scanned his face. Your fingers traced gently along the faint bruising on his collarbone. The tension in his shoulders from a recent fight still lay dormant in his muscles. 

Yet, somehow, he was here. With you. Again.

“I thought you were in D.C.,” you whispered.

“Campaign’s in full swing,” he replied, curling his right arm around you, letting his fingers trail along your neck and shoulder. “But I needed a night away. Somewhere quiet.”

You arched an eyebrow at him. “So naturally, you came to a Stark?”

The ghost of a grin tugged at his lips, leaning up on one elbow to match you. “Well, I wouldn’t say I was here for the quiet, exactly.” 

A low, tired laugh fell from your lips. “Of course not.”

This thing between you started a couple of years ago—the night of your father’s funeral. Too much grief. Too much whiskey. Too much Asgardian mead for Bucky. Years of unresolved tensions, avoidance, and a very complicated history were forgotten about that night. A night neither of you spoke about, but never stopped repeating. 

And no one knew. 

Not Pepper, not Sam, not even F.R.I.D.A.Y.

That was the agreement. No strings. No press. No fallout. But you were never very good at following orders. Even ones you set yourself.

Bucky was quiet at that moment. Then, his fingers moved down, tracing the curve of your arm. Slow and deliberate. “I need something.” 

Your hand stilled on his chest. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you locked your gaze with his. “Let me guess—is this where you say ‘from you’ and ruin the night?”

His expression gave you nothing. “I need your endorsement.” 

Silence.

You sat up, the silk sheet falling from your body. Your back was now turned to him as you reached for the glass of water on your nightstand.

“You’re serious.” 

“I wouldn’t bring it up if I weren’t, Stark.”

“You know what that would mean,” you said with a sigh. “The eldest daughter of Tony Stark publicly backing the Winter Soldier for Congress? The country would lose its mind.” 

“I’m not running as the Winter Soldier,” he retorted. “I’m running as James Barnes. And I’m trying—I’m trying to do something good.” 

“You already are doing something good,” you replied as you finally turned to face him again. “This isn’t a mission. It’s politics, Bucky. If you want my name on your campaign, you’d better be ready for your safe place to no longer be safe.” 

He held your gaze, steady. “I don’t want your name. I want your support.” 

This shouldn’t matter. The two of you weren’t real, not like that. This was supposed to be uncomplicated.

But at some point in time, Bucky had stopped calling before showing up. And you stopped caring.

You sighed, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.” 

“I’m serious.” 

“I know.” 

For a moment longer, you studied him. Then, leaned forward, swinging your leg over his body to straddle his waist. Your lips brushed against his. “I’ll think about it.” 

Bucky’s hand reached for your cheek, pulling you even closer, pressing his lips hard against yours.

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Three Weeks Later—Washington, D.C.

You shouldn’t have worn black. The dress clung to your body—cinched at the waist, sleeveless, and elegant. Pepper had referred to it as ‘Power Dressing’. Bucky, however, muttered, “A distraction,” into your neck the night before.

Now, you were standing at the Stark Industries podium. It was sleek and modern. Unmistakable Stark. Glass and steel glowed with the subtle golden accents. The company’s logo is etched on the front. 

You stood centre-stage. Half the country was watching you. Flanked by banners, journalists, and cameras already trained on you. Your curled fingers gripped tighter around the edge of the podium. 

Your heart hammered against your chest.

Your eyes flickered briefly toward the crowd.

Bucky was standing just to the left of the pavilion. Dressed in a pressed navy suit, hair pulled back neatly. And his jaw set tight. He looked every inch the part of a reformed soldier and future congressman hopeful. He was composed. Polished.

“Thank you all for being here. I’ll try and keep this brief,” you said, your voice steady, smooth. Cameras clicked. Murmurs rippled through the press. “I’ve spent the past few years trying to honor my father and his name.” 

The words rolled off your tongue like you spent hours rehearsing them. You didn’t. Not really. You practiced with Bucky’s head between your thighs, his hands on your hips. Your hands in his hair, and his half-wrecked voice mumbling: “You don’t have to do this. But if you do—I’ll owe you.” against you.

“My father believed in progress. In pushing forward, even when the world pushed back. Since his passing,” your gaze flickered to Pepper, watching with Morgan by her side. She gave you a supportive nod.

You took a breath, continuing. “Stark Industries has grown, shifted, and adapted. Just like the world we call home. But, we’re not done yet.” 

You paused, your eyes now locking with Bucky’s, and your mouth curved. Not into a smile, but something close enough. 

“I believe in redemption, second chances. I believe in making the world better, not just with innovation, but also with integrity. Which is why today, I’m not here to announce a product. I’m here to endorse a person.” 

You let the words hang in the air, taking a moment for yourself. The crowd was quiet, like the hum of an arc reactor. Powerful. 

“A man who has rebuilt himself, little by little. He knows the weight of his history, and carries it anyway.” Your throat tightened, and you let it. “I trust him. Not just with a vote. But with his second chance. With a future. With the city of New York and Brooklyn.” 

Another pause. Only this time, it wasn’t for you. Or the press. Pepper, or Morgan. It was for Bucky. 

Because he needed to hear you. 

“I am proud to be officially endorsing James Buchanan Barnes for Congress.” 

The crowd erupted in front of you. Cameras flashing, journalists shouting questions, Americans surprised. Somewhere, you could already hear someone announcing: “The Iron Princess sides with Reformed Assassin.” 

You didn’t flinch.

No matter how much you loathed being called ‘The Iron Princess’.

Behind the crowd, Bucky’s gaze never left yours. Giving nothing to the cameras. No smile. No smirk. He stayed quiet. 

You hadn’t just given him your name.

You gave him a chance. 

“You know they’re going to twist it all, right? You back me, and they’ll come for you.” More of his words from the previous night echoed in your mind as you watched the public reaction.

You didn’t care then, and you don’t care now.

You chose him.

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Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

Remember, I have a praise kink; I need validation and attention to survive. Please leave feedback. ♡

[sunshine-lux]

Clueless (vi.)

summary: teenagers tend to do stupid things when they're scared and in love but y/n and peter really take the cake! between arguments, football games, and parties- peter and y/n try to keep it together for their friends' sake. they're not doing a very good job at it, though.

pairings: Stark!reader x MCU!peter parker, Stark!reader x harry osborn, MCU!peter parker x gwen stacy

warnings: light swearing (i'm getting more comfy with it), one or two innuendos, underage drinking, peter being stupid, some mentions of death but it's not serious at all! f!reader. i think that's it!

word count: 12.3k!!!! double digits!!

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Y/N dropped into her seat beside Peter without saying a word. She didn’t look at him, didn’t even pretend to. Her notebook hit the desk harder than necessary, but she kept her expression neutral, jaw set tight as she stared down at the notes from yesterday’s class.

Peter sat there stiffly, pencil tapping nervously against his desk. He hadn’t stopped thinking about the fight. About what he said. About the way she slammed the car door and didn’t look back. And now she was here—so close, and yet he couldn’t feel further from her.

“Morning,” he mumbled, barely audible.

Y/N didn’t respond.

He glanced sideways at her, only to find her pretending he didn’t exist. Her expression was calm, but her foot bounced under the desk—a habit Peter knew meant she was annoyed. Or anxious. Probably both.

“Look,” he said under his breath, leaning a little toward her. “Are we gonna pretend that didn’t happen?”

Still nothing. Her eyes stayed locked on the board.

Peter sighed. “Y/N.”

She finally turned her head, eyes cold. “What do you want, Peter?”

“I just—I didn’t mean all that stuff, okay? I was pissed.”

“No kidding.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn't have said that stuff about Harry. Or you.”

There was a beat. And then Y/N said, “But you did say it. So…”

He winced. “I was being stupid. I know that.”

“You think I’m just throwing myself at the first guy who gives me attention,” she said, still not looking at him. “That wasn’t you being stupid. That was you being honest.”

Peter opened his mouth, then shut it again.

She gave a tight, sarcastic smile. “Thanks for that, by the way. Super empowering.”

“I didn’t mean it like that—”

“You never do,” she cut in, finally turning to look at him fully now. Her voice was low, but sharp. “But you say things like that anyway. Like I’m supposed to be okay with it.”

Peter stared at her, thrown.

“You think I’m being dramatic?” she added, eyes narrowing slightly. “I know that look.”

“No, I—” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what you want from me, okay? I’m trying here.”

“Then maybe try actually trusting me,” she said. “I thought you did.”

“I do,” Peter said. “It’s not about that.”

“Really? Because from where I’m sitting, it feels exactly like that.”

The bell rang before he could respond.

Y/N stood, grabbing her bag. “Don’t worry. I won’t be bringing any more ‘weird older guys’ around your presence.”

“Y/N—”

But she was already walking out the door.

Peter stayed frozen at his desk, watching her leave, stomach twisted with guilt and something he didn’t want to name.

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MJ was walking down the hall when suddenly, a hand grabbed her wrist and yanked her sideways into an empty classroom.

“WOAH—”

“Shh!” Peter slammed the door behind them.

MJ blinked at him. “Nah, don’t ever do that again.”

Peter looked wildly stressed. Hair disheveled, hoodie strings uneven, backpack half-zipped. Definitely unraveling.

MJ crossed her arms. “This better be good.”

Peter ran a hand down his face. “Did Y/N and Harry walk into the café together?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Last night,” he clarified. “When she showed up after the fight. Did they meet there or did they come together?”

“...Why?”

Peter ignored the question. “Did they walk in together or not?”

MJ tilted her head. “You really wanna know?”

“Yes.”

“I might have told Harry where to find her.”

“MJ.”

She smiled innocently. “What?”

Peter’s eyes bulged. “Why would you do that?!”

“She was upset. He asked. He showed up. I was at work!”

“You let them sit together—”

“I served them coffee. I was on the clock.”

“Okay, but that was basically their first date—”

“Oh my god.” MJ dragged a hand down her face. “Peter. Why do you even care?”

“I don’t,” he said, too fast. “I just—he’s weird. And sketchy. And a total womanizer—”

MJ blinked. “Okay. And?”

“I’m the only one being logical here! I worry about her.”

“Right. Because your concern has nothing to do with the fact that she let him hold her hand, laughed at his jokes, and maybe, just maybe, likes him.”

Peter’s jaw clenched.

MJ stepped closer. “You’re jealous. Just admit it.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.”

Peter looked away, like the floor suddenly got very interesting.

And MJ wasn’t done. Not even close.

“You’ve been doing this cat and mouse thing with Y/N for over a year, Peter. You flirt. You linger. You hover. And just when everyone thinks you’re about to grow a pair and actually say something—you backpedal. Hard.”

She didn’t even blink.

“You did it last year with Liz. Everyone thought you were gonna ask Y/N to Homecoming. Hell, I know you wanted to. And then boom—suddenly you're escorting Midtown’s It Girl to the dance like Y/N didn’t exist.”

Peter opened his mouth to protest, but MJ cut him off.

“And now you're doing it again with Gwen. Gluing yourself to her, acting like nothing’s wrong, dragging her along too. You don’t get to be confused and territorial and then expect everyone to wait around while you figure it out. Both of those girls are super sweet. And they don’t deserve this.”

Peter just stood there, guilt crashing over him like a wave.

MJ shook her head. “You don’t get to act like this if you’re still pretending you’re into Gwen. Either make a move or move on, Peter. But this weird emotional limbo thing you’re doing? It’s exhausting.”

She opened the door.

“Oh,” she added over her shoulder, “And if you ever drag me into a room again, I will end your life.”

Then she was gone.

Peter just stood there, heart racing, throat tight, and chest aching—because MJ was right. And that was the worst part.

As he was leaving the empty classroom, he spotted her by the lockers, shoving her books into her bag with more aggression than necessary.

He hesitated. He could still feel MJ’s words echoing in his skull, pounding like a migraine. But he couldn’t let it go like this. Not again.

“Hey,” he said, stepping beside her.

Y/N glanced at him, eyes still tired. “Hey.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Are we… okay?”

She zipped up her bag and shrugged. “I mean… I guess.”

Peter winced. “I’m sorry about what I said. About Harry. That whole thing. I didn’t mean to come off like that.”

Y/N looked at him carefully. “It wasn’t just about Harry. It was the way you said it. And the things you said to me. Like you don’t trust me and I’m just some dumb girl.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “And I’m so sorry. I really am. I was just—I don’t know. I was mad. And dumb. And jealous—” He cut himself off, chest tightening. “Forget that last one.”

She gave him a small look, unreadable.

Peter cleared his throat. “Can I… make it up to you?”

A beat. Then, Y/N cocked her head slightly. “You wanna walk me home?”

His face lit up, too fast. “Yes. Absolutely. I’d love to.”

Y/N almost smiled. Almost. She threw her backpack over her shoulder and nodded for him to follow. And just like that, they were walking side by side down the hall again—close, familiar, dangerously close to normal.

Peter’s heart climbed into his throat.

He had to say it.

Tell her, now. Tell her about Gwen.

“Hey, um…” he started, fiddling with the strap of his backpack. “About the game tomorrow—”

Y/N turned to look at him, eyes softening just a little.

And he faltered.

She just invited you to walk her home. She’s letting you back in. If you tell her now, she’ll be pissed again. She’ll think you lied. What if she doesn’t even care? What if it’s not a big deal? Just act like it’s still a group thing. Just play nice with Harry. Don’t ruin this.

Peter forced a smile. “You excited?”

Y/N gave a little nod. “Yeah. Kinda. Big game and all.”

Peter nudged her shoulder. “You’re gonna look cooler than half the team just sitting in the stands.”

Y/N finally smiled. “Well… duh.”

They kept walking, and for a second, it was just like old times.

But Peter felt it in his chest—that knot of guilt curling up tighter and tighter.

Because things felt good. Too good.

And he was still lying.

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The lunch table was quieter than usual.

Ned and Peter were missing—dragged off to the library for “studying,” apparently. Y/N had a hunch it was just Peter trying to avoid this exact dynamic: her, Gwen, and MJ sitting side by side.

Y/N picked at her salad while MJ scrolled through her phone. Gwen sipped her lemonade, then set her cup down and said it casually—too casually.

“So…” Gwen looked between the girls, all wide eyed innocence. “Guess who called me last night and asked me out on a date?”

Y/N looked up, half smiling, pretending she didn’t already know. “Who?”

“Peter,” Gwen said, trying not to seem too smug. “Kinda unexpected, right?”

MJ made a little noise, raising her eyebrows. “Huh.”

Gwen turned to Y/N. “I know you’ve said you two are just friends, but… I mean, you’re super close. Even at the gala, it felt like he would've rather been there with you. I don’t wanna step on your toes or anything.”

Y/N’s brain was reeling. He really didn’t tell me. After everything—after their fight, the apology, the offer to walk her home—he still didn’t tell her.

She blinked. “No, it’s… it’s fine. We’re just close. That’s all.”

Gwen gave her a soft smile. “Okay. Just wanted to be sure. You’re kind of intimidating, you know.”

Y/N forced a laugh. “Oh god. Noted.”

He asked her. He gave her the opening—asked how she felt. He never asked you. Never even hinted. And you thought…

The ache in her chest throbbed deeper. Panic, jealousy, humiliation. Something sharp, something bitter.

“Well,” Y/N said, brightening her tone like flipping a switch, “I’m bringing Harry to the game. As a date.”

MJ’s eyes snapped up.

Gwen looked surprised. “Oh my gosh, really?”

Y/N nodded, sipping her water a little too fast. “Mhm. Why not?”

In her head: Why did I say that?

Now she had to stick to it. Had to lean in. Had to play this ridiculous game Peter started.

Gwen smiled again. “That’s… kind of iconic, honestly. I think you guys are cute together.”

“Yeah,” Y/N murmured, glancing down at her tray.

Across the table, she watched Gwen. Blonde hair, soft makeup, pale pink nails. She wore a flowy skirt and a sweater with little daisies on it. Her voice was calm, gentle. Everything about her said safe.

She’s everything you’re not.

Y/N wore her usual baggy jeans and boots. There was still a faint bruise on her knuckle from training with Vision last week. She’d laughed too loud in Physics. She never knew when to shut up. Gwen was soft edges; Y/N was sparks and static.

And maybe that’s why Peter chose her.

Maybe he always would.

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Peter hadn’t said much since dragging Ned in here under the pretense of “studying.”

Now they were tucked in the corner, hidden behind a stack of Bio textbooks, and Peter was chewing on the cap of his pen.

Ned finally put his book down. “Okay. Spill. What’s with the tension?”

Peter blinked at him. “What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me. Ever sinceI told you I saw Y/N with Harry at MJ’s job you’ve been so weird. I woke up to like ten cryptic texts from you. What’s going on?”

Peter ran a hand down his face. “It’s nothing.”

“Peter.”

“…I asked Gwen out.”

Silence.

“You what?” Ned whisper-yelled. “As in, to the game? Like—a date-date?”

Peter nodded, miserable.

Ned’s jaw dropped. “For someone so smart, you can be a real idiot sometimes.”

Peter looked away. “I know.”

“No, seriously. Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know,” Peter muttered. “Okay, I do know. It was stupid. It’s a mistake.”

Ned just stared at him, waiting.

Peter sighed. “Because it’s easier. Because I panicked. Gwen’s… Gwen’s nice. She’s cool. She’s safe.”

“Safe?” Ned echoed.

Peter nodded, quiet now. “She doesn’t make my brain stop working and my heart beat out of my chest. She’s not… her.”

Ned softened a little. “You mean Y/N.”

Peter didn’t say anything.

“She’s Y/N Stark, dude. You’ve been in love with her since summer of freshman year.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” Peter said suddenly. “She’s Y/N Stark. Everyone wants her. She’s brilliant and beautiful and terrifying. She’s electric. She’s—she’s the kind of person a genie would grant you as a wish and then laugh when it turns out too good to be true.”

Ned tilted his head. “So you asked someone else out because you think she’s too good for you?”

“I think… if I let myself love her the way I want to, it wouldn’t be fair to her.”

Peter’s voice was barely above a whisper now. “I know what happens to the people I love, Ned. And now I’m Spider-Man. The stakes are higher. There’s always going to be someone coming for me, and if Y/N’s with me… she’s a target.”

He looked down, eyes wet. “Even if she’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. Even if she could probably fry a supervillain with her pinky. It doesn’t matter. I couldn’t handle it. If anything ever happened to her, I—”

He cut himself off, shaking his head.

Ned sat back, stunned. “Pete…”

“I’d rather be with someone who won’t stick around long enough to get hurt,” Peter said quietly. “And she’s got Harry now anyway. He’s rich, powerful, he can protect her. He’s probably what she deserves.”

Ned looked at him like he wanted to hit him. “You absolute moron.”

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The bell rang, and students poured out of the classroom, flooding the hallway with noise and chatter. Peter waited just outside the door, rocking on the balls of his feet. His backpack was slung lazily over one shoulder, and his expression was calm—hopeful, even.

He spotted her instantly, weaving through the crowd. Her face was unreadable.

“Hey,” he said, falling into step beside her.

Y/N didn’t respond.

Peter blinked, confused, but tried again. “You good?”

A beat. Then another.

“Sure,” she said flatly, eyes straight ahead.

He frowned. “Are you mad at me again?”

“I don’t know, Peter. Should I be?”

Peter’s brows knit together. “I—I thought we were good. I said sorry, remember? You asked me to walk you home.”

They were already nearing the main doors of the school. Peter glanced over at her again, trying to read her expression. She wouldn’t look at him.

He cleared his throat. “Y/N/N… am I still walking you home or—what’s going on?”

She stopped walking.

He paused a few steps ahead, turning back to face her. “Y/N/N?”

“Nope,” she said brightly, too brightly. “I’m going out with Harry.”

Peter’s stomach dropped. “What?”

“I said I’m going out with Harry,” she repeated, like it was obvious. She shrugged. “Change of plans.”

“Y/N, what?! You asked me to walk you. And now you’re just… canceling at the last second?”

By now, they were fully outside. The autumn air hit Peter like a slap, sharp and cold but nothing compared to what came next.

Y/N turned to him, finally meeting his eyes. “Yeah. Because despite what you think of him, he hasn’t lied to me.”

Peter blinked. “What are you—?”

“Unlike you.” Her voice cracked a little. “God, you were just gonna pretend like nothing happened. You were gonna walk me home, sit in my room, lie to my face. And for what, Peter?”

Peter’s mouth opened, closed. “Y/N, what are you talking about—?”

“Have fun with your girlfriend, Gwen. Or whatever she is to you now.” she snapped, turning on her heel just as a sleek black car pulled up to the curb.

Harry Osborn stepped out of the driver’s seat, leaned against the door like he was posing for a magazine cover, and grinned when he saw her.

Peter watched helplessly as Y/N’s entire face lit up. Her anger melted for a moment, replaced by something warm and easy. She jogged down the steps toward Harry, who opened the car door for her with a smirk.

Before getting in, Harry glanced up—locked eyes with Peter—and gave him a lazy wave and an unmistakable wink.

Peter just stood there, rooted to the spot, mouth dry, heart pounding.

What the fuck.

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Y/N flopped backward on the couch in the Tower’s living room, letting out a dramatic sigh as she stared at the ceiling. Her boots were still on. Pepper would yell if she saw her.

Harry, lounging beside her with a controller in hand, clicked the game to pause and tilted his head.

“So,” he said casually, “what happened with your boyfriend this time?”

Y/N groaned. “Do not call him that.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry smirked, nudging her boot with his foot. “Your not-boyfriend-who-gets-way-too-upset-when-you-hang-out-with-me.”

She shot him a look. “We’re not talking about this.”

“Too late.” He stretched dramatically. “Did you two fight again? Or is he just doing that brooding in the shadows, ‘nobody understands the burden of being a nerd’ thing again?”

She exhaled through her nose. Then  she sat up.

“He lied to me,” she said.

That made Harry pause.

“He lied, like it was nothing. We talked. We were starting to feel like us again, and then I find out from Gwen that he asked her to the game as a date.” She let out a hollow laugh. “I mean, I don’t care. I do, but I shouldn’t. But I’m so tired of playing this weird game with him.”

Harry didn't immediately respond. He leaned forward, arms resting on his knees, watching her carefully.

“Sounds like he’s a dumbass.”

Y/N snorted.

“Seriously,” Harry said. “You? Y/N Stark? New York’s It girl? Genius-level intellect? Literal walking thunderstorm of hotness and rage? He should be writing you sonnets, not keeping secrets like he’s in some bad teen drama.”

She didn’t smile — not quite — but her lips twitched.

He leaned back, one arm lazily thrown across the back of the couch, fingers brushing the edge of her hair. “You want to hit something? We can go to the gym. Or I can teach you poker. I always cheat, though.”

“I’d shock you.”

“I’d consider it foreplay.”

She laughed for real then, and he grinned, satisfied.

They sat like that for a beat, her head tilted back, his gaze still on her.

“I’m not going to kiss you,” she said suddenly, eyes still on the ceiling.

“I didn’t ask,” Harry said simply. “But thanks for letting me know.”

She looked at him then, surprised by how soft his expression was — no cocky grin, no teasing smirk. Just... calm.

“I like the attention,” he added, shrugging. “And I like you. But I know I’m a distraction.”

Y/N didn’t respond.

Harry leaned in, just slightly. “You don’t have to kiss me to prove anything, Stark. I’m already wrapped around your finger. Besides,” he smirked again, “you’d just be thinking about him anyway.”

Y/N opened her mouth, but couldn’t form a reply.

“C’mon,” he said, springing up and grabbing the controllers. “First to ten wins. Loser owes the other one a secret.”

“And if I don’t lose?”

“Then I’ll still tell you one. I’m just that generous.”

She rolled her eyes but scooted closer.

It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even flirty.

It was a distraction. A really good one.

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The two teenagers walked side by side down the hallway toward the elevator. It was late, the lights dimmed, casting a warm glow on the floor as Y/N trailed her fingers along the wall. Harry had his hands in his pockets, still looking perfectly unbothered as usual.

“Thanks for hanging out with me today,” Y/N said, glancing up at him. “Even if you totally destroyed me in Mario Kart.”

Harry grinned. “I wouldn’t call it destruction. More like... elegant domination.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You picked Rainbow Road every time.”

“I play to win, Stark. You should know that by now.”

She smiled—finally, a real one. And then she hesitated, chewing her lip. “Okay, so... there’s one tiny thing I forgot to mention.”

Harry tilted his head. “Do tell.”

“I might’ve... sort of told my friends that you’re coming to the game with me tomorrow. As my date.”

She braced herself for whatever smug thing was about to come out of his mouth.

But Harry just burst out laughing, head thrown back like he couldn’t believe her. “Y/N Stark,” he said through a grin, “I didn’t think you had it in you to fight fire with fire like that. I see I’m rubbing off on you.”

Y/N flushed. “It’s not like that! I just—things got messy and I panicked and—”

“Relax,” he said, still smirking. “I’d be honored to be your date.”

“Fake date,” she corrected quickly, pointing a finger at him.

Harry raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fake. Real. Same difference when you’re with me.”

The elevator chimed open. Harry stepped in, then turned to face her. His eyes flicked over her face for a moment, softer now.

He leaned forward, pressed a kiss to her forehead—quick, but deliberate.

“See you tomorrow, sweet cheeks,” he murmured, the smirk tugging back at his lips.

And then the doors closed.

Y/N just stood there for a second, blinking at the elevator.

She exhaled. “Oh god,” she muttered, rubbing her forehead like she could erase the memory.

This was fine. Totally fine.

Nothing she couldn’t handle.

Right?

Y/N was still standing in front of the elevator, forehead tingling, smile tugging at her lips like it wasn’t sure if it should be there or not.

And then—

“What the hell was that?”

She jumped about a foot off the floor and spun around to see Tony standing there, coffee mug in hand, jaw on the ground.

“What?” she blinked, playing innocent.

Tony pointed dramatically at the now-closed elevator doors. “Did he just kiss your forehead? Did he just call you sweet cheeks?” He clutched his chest like he was moments from a heart attack. “What are you, a Bond girl now? Is this my life?”

Y/N groaned. “Oh my god, Dad, stop being so dramatic.”

“We’re just friends,” she added.

Tony’s eyes nearly bugged out. “You call that friendship?”

He threw his arms up and started pacing. “God, I don’t even wanna know what you do with Parker then. Jesus. My blood pressure.”

Y/N blinked. “Nothing. Oh my god.”

Tony stopped, planted his hands on his hips. “Y/N, I don’t know how I feel about this Harry Osborn situation. I know him. I was him.”

He pointed at himself with exaggerated horror. “This is what karma looks like. This is it. The universe is laughing in my face.”

“Okay, dramatic and delusional,” Y/N muttered, brushing past him.

Tony followed, still spiraling. “Sweet cheeks. He called you sweet cheeks. This is my villain origin story.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the grin on her face. “You’re not normal.”

“And you are grounded.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Fair.”

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Peter sat on the fire escape outside his window, knees drawn up, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands like he was thirteen again and hadn’t just asked Gwen Stacy to a football game in a moment of emotional panic.

The Queens air was chilly, sharp in that way that reminded him fall was on its way. His phone sat beside him, buzzing every now and then — group chat notifications. Mostly MJ roasting Ned for eating an entire rotisserie chicken after 9pm again.

None from Y/N.

He hadn’t heard from her since earlier. Since she told him she wasn’t walking home with him anymore. Since she left with Harry.

The metal creaked softly behind him.

“Figured I’d find you out here.”

Peter didn’t turn, but he smiled a little as May climbed through the window and sat beside him, holding two mugs. She handed one to him. It was hot chocolate.

“Thanks,” he said, quietly.

May just nodded, looking out at the skyline. “Want me to guess, or are you gonna tell me?”

Peter sighed. “It’s… dumb.”

“Of course it is. You’re sixteen. Everything feels like the end of the world when you’re sixteen.”

He laughed, weakly. “I think I messed up.”

“Oh?”

“I lied to someone. Someone I care about. And now she’s mad. And she left. With someone else. Someone cooler. And richer. And taller. And probably fluent in French or something stupid like that.”

May raised an eyebrow. “So… girl problems.”

Peter looked at her. “It’s more than that.”

“Of course it is,” she said, sipping her hot chocolate.

He was quiet for a second, then said, “I asked Gwen to the game. As a date.”

May blinked. “Okay… is that not what you wanted?”

“No. I mean — yes. I mean…” He groaned and put his head in his hands. “It wasn’t supposed to be a thing. I just panicked.”

May gave him a moment.

“I like someone else,” Peter admitted. “And I’ve liked her for a long time. And she… she was finally opening up to me again. And I lied to her. I didn’t tell her I asked someone else out. I was gonna walk her home and pretend like everything was fine and—”

“And she found out.”

“Yeah.”

May didn’t say anything. Just looked at him gently over the rim of her mug.

“You already knew it was Y/N, didn’t you?” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

May smiled, a little sad, a little proud. “Honey, I’ve always known it was Y/N.”

Peter blinked. “What?”

“You get this look when you talk about her. You light up. Even when you’re trying not to. You talk about her like she invented air.”

Peter turned away, heat crawling up the back of his neck.

“She’s been here for Thai food nights. She’s slept in our couch. She helped me set up the Christmas lights last year, remember? You don’t just let anyone into your world like that.” May bumped his shoulder. “I don’t think you even realized it until recently.”

“I don’t deserve her,” Peter said, voice cracking. “She’s Y/N Stark. She’s smart and fearless and kind. Everyone loves her. And I’m just—”

“You’re Peter Parker,” May said, firm and soft all at once. “That’s more than enough.”

He didn’t answer. Just stared out at the city.

“I like Gwen,” he said eventually. “She’s nice. Easy to be around.”

“But she’s not Y/N.”

Peter’s throat tightened.

“I got scared,” he admitted. “Of it being real. Of finally getting everything I’ve ever wanted and… losing it.”

May was quiet, letting him speak.

“Everyone I’ve ever loved is gone. My parents. Uncle Ben. And now I’m Spider-Man. If anything ever happened to her because of me—”

“She’s not just anyone,” May said. “You know that.”

“I do. She’s Tony Stark’s daughter. Natasha and Steve trained her. She can handle herself. But I— I don’t want her to ever have to. Not because of me.”

“You’re not protecting her by pushing her away,” May said softly. “You’re just hurting both of you.”

Peter’s voice dropped. “I think I already did.”

May placed a hand on his shoulder, grounding him.

“You know what I think?” she asked.

Peter didn’t respond, but she continued anyway.

“I think you’re scared because you love her. And it feels big. And messy. And unfair. But that’s the good stuff, Pete. The scary, overwhelming stuff — that’s what makes it real.”

He looked down at his hot chocolate, steam still curling into the air.

“So what now?” May asked.

He was quiet, then smirked faintly. “I guess I have to play the game.”

“The football game?” she asked.

“No. The dumb teenage jealousy game.”

May snorted. “Well, at least you’re aware.”

Peter smiled a little, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

May reached out and ruffled his curls. “You’re gonna figure it out. Just maybe… don’t wait too long.”

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Peter dragged his feet down the crowded hallway, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder and dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept properly all week — because, well, he hadn’t.

“Dude,” Ned said beside him, trying to sound neutral but already bracing himself for emotional whiplash, “you gotta pull it together.”

Peter shot him a look. “She skipped first period, Ned. First. Period. She never skips. And she hasn’t texted me back since yesterday.”

“She’s mad.”

“I know she’s mad,” Peter hissed. “She’s never been this mad. I think she might actually kill me.”

Ned nodded solemnly. “Yeah. I’m a little scared of her, too.”

Peter ran a hand through his hair, clearly spiraling. “Do you think—like, what if I pushed her too far this time?”

“I’ve never seen her like this,” Ned admitted. “Or you. Your guilt is literally eating you alive.”

“I deserve it,” Peter muttered.

Meanwhile, down the other end of the hall, MJ and Y/N were weaving through the crowd with far more confidence—though Y/N’s sunglasses were still on indoors, which MJ clocked as a clear sign of emotional war prep.

“I kinda feel bad,” Y/N muttered, tugging her sleeves over her hands. “I’ve never given him the silent treatment like this. It’s petty. I’m being petty.”

MJ scoffed. “No. You’re reacting.”

“I shouldn’t even let him get to me like this.”

“Too late,” MJ said. “Also? Ned and I are officially children of divorce. Parker’s an idiot. Did I tell you he dragged me into an empty classroom yesterday to interrogate me about your little ‘date’ with Harry?”

Y/N’s head whipped toward her. “It wasn’t a date.”

“Tell him that,” MJ said flatly.

Y/N groaned. “Ugh.”

And then, of course, fate had to be cruel: they turned a corner and came face to face with Peter and Ned in the middle of the hallway.

Peter straightened like he’d been electrocuted. “Oh—hey! Y/N! Hi.”

He was way too chirpy. His voice cracked slightly.

Y/N blinked behind her sunglasses. She could practically feel MJ smirking beside her.

“Hey,” she said, calm and collected. “Didn’t see you this morning.”

Peter tilted his head. “Yeah, weird. You, uh… missed AP Bio.”

“Did I?” Y/N blinked. “Huh. Must’ve overslept.”

Ned glanced at Peter like she’s gaslighting you and you’re letting her.

Peter tried to smile. “Right. Totally. Sleep’s important.”

“Mhmm,” Y/N said, lips twitching like she wanted to smile but wouldn’t let herself.

A beat of silence. The hallway around them buzzed and passed, but it felt like they were in their own little standoff bubble.

“So,” Peter said, scratching the back of his neck. “You ready for the game tonight?”

“Sure,” Y/N replied, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I mean… I won’t be alone.”

Peter’s jaw tensed. “Right. Harry.”

“Yup.”

MJ cut in before Peter could combust. “We’ll all be there. It’s gonna be great. Go Midtown football.”

Ned gave her a please look and she just smiled like a cat with a secret.

Peter looked back at Y/N. “Guess I’ll… see you there?”

Y/N gave a little nod, still unreadable behind her shades. “See you there, Parker.”

And with that, she walked past him. Peter stared after her, trying not to look like he was watching his whole life fall apart in real time.

Ned clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Man. She’s good at this.”

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The group hovered near the school gates, where a crowd had already started gathering to get into the football field. The fall air buzzed with excitement—music playing from somewhere, cheerleaders scattered in uniform, students rushing around with face paint and posters. Midtown was in full game-day mode.

Peter stood just a little off to the side, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, trying way too hard to look like he didn’t care. Like he wasn’t already tense. Like he hadn’t been glancing around every five seconds wondering when he would show up.

Next to him, Ned was cracking up at something Y/N had just said.

MJ raised a brow. “Okay, but you cannot talk, Stark. You’re the one who couldn’t stop laughing when you had to do the morning announcements last month.”

Y/N snorted. “You kept making faces at me.”

“I was just looking at you.”

“It was funny!”

They all burst out laughing, even Y/N—bright and easy and full of that electric spark that always surrounded her.

Peter’s eyes flicked toward her on instinct. Her smile. Her laugh. The way her eyes crinkled a little when MJ teased her. He looked away quickly, pretending to check something on his phone. He was not going to be the guy who couldn’t stop staring.

Suddenly, Gwen jogged up from across the parking lot, slightly out of breath.

“Hey!” she called, waving. “I have to go take care of some pregame stuff—cheerleader drama, don’t ask—but I’ll meet you guys at the bleachers!”

Before anyone could respond, she leaned up and pressed a kiss to Peter’s cheek.

“You look cute,” she said, flashing a bright smile before sprinting off toward the stadium entrance.

Peter blinked. Face flaming. His neck did that awkward whip thing as he turned straight to look at Y/N.

She was already looking at him.

Just for a second.

And then she looked away fast, lips tightening, eyes hardening.

He felt it in his gut.

Before he could even process it, a familiar black town car pulled up just down the curb.

Harry.

Y/N’s entire face lit up. Her eyes sparkled as she took off toward the car.

“Harrry!” she called, practically bouncing. He stepped out, grinning.

Peter watched—jaw clenched, stomach churning—as Harry pulled her into a hug, lifting her just slightly off the ground with a laugh.

“Missed me already, huh?” Harry said into her ear.

Y/N laughed, pulling back. “You’re late.”

“Traffic. Blame the masses of people who don’t know how to drive in this city.”

She tugged him toward the group. “Come meet the gang.”

“This should be fun,” he said, smirking as they walked over.

Y/N gestured. “This is Ned, MJ—you already know MJ—and– yeah Peter.”

Harry held out his hand to Ned. “Harry Osborn. Nice to meet you.”

Ned’s eyes widened. “Oh my god. New York royalty.”

Harry barked out a laugh. “You flatter me.”

To MJ, he offered a wink. “MJ, always a pleasure. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be here with our lovely Y/N.”

MJ rolled her eyes. “Please. You found your own way in the second you spotted her across the ballroom.”

Harry turned to Peter last. A beat of silence.

“I almost didn’t see you there, Parker,” he said, smiling wide. “You’re so quiet. Stop hiding, man.”

Peter’s jaw ticked.

“I’m not hiding,” he muttered.

Harry just grinned bigger.

Y/N, oblivious—or pretending to be—was already chatting with MJ and Ned again.

Peter stood frozen in place, heart pounding, already regretting everything.

The bleachers were already packed, the student section buzzing with pregame energy. Midtown’s marching band played a medley of fight songs while cheerleaders hyped the crowd near the field. The sun was dipping behind the scoreboard, casting everything in a warm, golden hue.

Ned, MJ, Y/N, and Harry had claimed a long row near the 50-yard line. Gwen hadn’t arrived yet, and Peter had lagged behind a little to grab snacks for the group. When he finally showed up, drinks and chips in hand, MJ had to scoot down, making space for him next to Ned.

So it went: Gwen’s empty seat on the end, then Peter, Ned, MJ, Y/N… and Harry.

A lineup so cursed it might’ve been coordinated by the universe just to test Peter’s will to live.

He sat down with a tight smile, handing Ned a soda and settling in. He didn’t look at Y/N. Not directly. But he was very aware of her laughing at something Harry said. She was curled into her jacket, hair flowing with the wind, and Peter could see the glint of her necklace catching the sun.

It was the one May had given her last Christmas.

He frowned.

“I don’t know what that face is,” Ned muttered to him, “but you’re scowling like she burned down your childhood home.”

Before Peter could reply, Gwen appeared— lips glossy, cheeks flushed from running.

“Hey, sorry!” she said, breathless. “Band crisis. Nothing new.”

She waved as she approached, and Harry, ever the gentleman, stood.

“Gwen,” he said with a grin, “you look lovely.”

Gwen beamed. “Thank you, Harry. And thank you for coming! I mean, having two of New York’s biggest socialites in our student section? That’s serious morale-boosting stuff.”

Peter rolled his eyes so hard it might’ve caused permanent damage.

Harry, of course, just laughed and said, “Anything for Midtown.”

Gwen squeezed past Peter, dropping into the seat beside him and flashing him a smile. “Sorry again—I had no idea the band needed a last minute flag runner.”

Peter forced a grin. “It’s fine. You made it.”

“Barely,” she said, bumping her shoulder against his. “But now I’m here with all my favorite people.”

Across Ned and MJ, Y/N shifted. Peter caught the motion and immediately glanced toward her—just in time for her to glance back at him.

They both looked away instantly.

It was the most painfully obvious game of emotional dodgeball either had ever played.     

Gwen, meanwhile, leaned forward to catch MJ and Y/N’s attention with a bright smile. “This is seriously so fun. I’ve never sat with a student section this… dramatic before.” She laughed, then added, “.”

MJ snorted. “Welcome to Midtown.”

Gwen’s eyes flicked between Harry and Y/N, then back to the girls. “By the way, Y/N, I’ve been meaning to say—your whole thing with Harry? Super cute. You always blush when someone mentions him. It’s adorable.”

Y/N blinked. “I—what?”

Gwen grinned. “No, really! I noticed it even at the gala. I totally called it. You’ve got this little spark in your eyes whenever he’s around.”

She turned to Harry with a playful nudge. “You two are kind of perfect together.”

Peter’s jaw clenched. MJ didn’t even try to hide her laugh this time.

Harry, completely unfazed, tilted his head and smiled at Y/N. “Guess we’re perfect now, huh?”

Y/N’s cheeks went red—probably from the attention, maybe from something else—but she just shrugged. “We clean up nice, that’s all.”

Across the row, Peter blinked slowly and drank half his soda in one go. Gwen turned toward him, oblivious. “Aren't they adorable?”

“Adorable,” he echoed, flat.

Meanwhile, Ned had leaned toward Harry, whispering something that made him laugh—loud and unbothered.

It was so effortless.

Peter shot Ned a glare, and Ned just raised his brows like what??

Harry leaned back against the bleachers, arms spread behind Y/N as he grinned at something on the field.

Peter could feel the heat rising in his neck. He was about to combust. He turned slightly, pretending to be interested in the coin toss, but really? He was watching the way Y/N’s eyes crinkled when she laughed. Again.

The whistle blew. The crowd erupted. Kickoff.

Midtown’s football team rushed the field, and everyone in the bleachers jumped to their feet.

Y/N and Harry were among the loudest.

“LET’S GO MIDTOWN!” Harry shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. “MURDER THEM, BOYS!”

“WE CAN’T SAY MURDER THEM,” Y/N yelled, cracking up as she elbowed him. “That’s so aggressive.”

“You’re aggressive,” he shot back with a grin.

“Oh my god,” MJ muttered, already exhausted.

And then—TOUCHDOWN.

Midtown scored on the opening drive, and the crowd went feral. The drumline was going wild, cheerleaders cheered, and Harry turned to Y/N with a triumphant shout.

He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her, spinning her around once before setting her down, both of them laughing and red faced from the cold and the chaos.

She threw her arms around his neck in a victory hug and beamed, breathless. It was genuine. She looked happy.

Peter was watching. Of course he was watching.

He blinked once. Twice. Jaw tight.

“Oh, hell no,” he muttered, practically venomous. “Not at my school.”

He turned to Gwen with a forced grin. “That was sick, right?”

Gwen, still cheering, nodded. “Such a good start!”

Peter leaned in. “Hey, come here!”

Before she could process it, he tugged her close, arms wrapping around her waist. She squeaked in surprise and laughed as he grinned down at her.

“You look really cute, by the way,” he said. “Did I tell you that?”

Gwen smiled, cheeks pink. “No but thank you.”

He laughed again, a little too loud, letting his hand linger against her back.

MJ and Ned sat frozen between them and Y/N like they’d just been teleported into the worst teen drama in history.

Ned leaned toward MJ, whispering through a fake smile, “Are we… witnessing a live custody battle?”

MJ didn’t even blink. “This is a full psychological war.”

Meanwhile, Y/N—still catching her breath from the touchdown celebration—turned and caught Peter wrapped around Gwen.

He was saying something in her ear. Gwen was laughing. Peter was laughing. His hand was on her back.

Y/N’s smile faltered.

Oh.

So he was really gonna do it, huh?

She narrowed her eyes, lips pressed into a tight line.

Fine.

If that was the game he wanted to play, she could play it better.

Y/N turned her full attention to Harry, who was mid trash talk about the other school’s quarterback, and laughed loud—like really loud. The Peter-look-at-me kind of loud.

She reached for Harry’s hand—just for a second—and he grinned like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Peter looked. Of course he looked. His eyes snapped to their hands instantly.

Game. Set. Match.

“Y/N’s definitely doing this on purpose,” MJ said through her teeth.

“Honestly– I respect it,” Ned replied.

Peter moved his arm from Gwen’s waist to drape across the back of her seat instead, his hand barely brushing her shoulder. Gwen leaned into it slightly, not thinking anything of it.

Y/N definitely noticed.

She huffed, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she leaned into Harry, letting their shoulders bump. “Okay, fine. That touchdown was kind of hot.”

“Right?” Harry said, smirking. “I didn’t know Midtown could deliver like that.”

From the corner of her eye, Y/N saw Peter tense up. Saw the way his jaw ticked, even if he tried to hide it by sipping his soda.

Ned took a long sip of his drink, not looking at either of them.

MJ stared straight ahead like she was pretending to be anywhere else.

The game had barely started.

And they were all already losing.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Harry Osborn had to admit—he was having an excellent time.

This wasn’t the kind of game he was used to. He’d gone to fancy prep schools, where football games were all tradition and decorum and polished school spirit. This? This was something else entirely. The bleachers were packed, the energy was unfiltered, and the drama? Chef’s kiss.

He glanced down the row—Gwen had just said something to Y/N that made her do that tiny, awkward little laugh. The one where she tilted her head and bit her lip like she was trying not to react. The one she did when she was holding something back.

Harry didn’t miss the way Peter Parker immediately looked over, watching Y/N like he might blow up at any second.

Harry smirked to himself. There it is.

He leaned back casually, one arm draped over the back of the bench behind Y/N—not touching her, but close enough to be noticed. Peter’s jaw twitched. Bingo.

Ned said something—Harry didn’t catch it—but it made him laugh out loud. Not a fake one either, a real, belly-deep laugh. The guy was funny. Quirky. Smart. He liked him.

But the best part was watching Peter and Y/N play their little game like no one could see it. It was like emotional ping pong. Y/N leaning into Harry’s shoulder while she cheered, Peter nudging Gwen a little closer and laughing at her jokes just a little too loud. Harry was pretty sure MJ had muttered “kill me now” under her breath at least twice.

“Wow,” Harry said, sipping from his water bottle. “You guys do not play around. This student section is intense.”

Y/N turned to him, eyes gleaming, flushed with excitement. “Rivalry games are chaos.”

He grinned. “I thought you were exaggerating. I stand corrected.”

When their team scored again, Y/N practically jumped out of her seat, grabbing Harry by the shoulders and shaking him. He laughed and picked her up slightly, spinning her half around before setting her back down, her laughter ringing in his ears.

And yeah, sure, part of him was playing it up for Peter. Why not? If he was going to be dragged into the middle of this bizarre love triangle, he might as well enjoy the perks. But the part that surprised him was how real it felt. Y/N was so… unfiltered. Ridiculously fun. And for once, he didn’t feel like the guy on a magazine cover or the heir to anything. He felt normal. Invited.

He risked a glance down the row.

Peter was watching them again, jaw clenched. Gwen said something to him, resting her hand briefly on his arm. He nodded, distracted.

Still looking at her, Harry noted.

And for a flicker of a second, something in Harry’s chest tugged. Just a little.

He knew she wasn’t doing this for him. Not really. Every glance at Peter, every tilt of her chin—it was all part of some silent battle between the two of them. Harry was a pawn. A shiny, charming, well-dressed distraction.

But damn, wouldn’t it be nice if—for once—it wasn’t a game?

If the way she laughed, the way she lit up, the way she clung to his arm during touchdowns… if that was for him.

Still, he wasn’t bitter. Not even close.

Because if he had to play the role of the guy who got under Peter Parker’s skin—got to hold Y/N’s attention for the night, get a front row seat to this mess of unresolved tension and fireworks—he’d play it with pride.

He leaned in close to Y/N and said, “Hey, you think Peter’s gonna blow a gasket before halftime or after?”

Y/N’s grin was instant. “After. He’s trying really hard to keep it together.”

“Admirable effort,” Harry said, glancing down the row again. “But let’s make it harder.”

She laughed, bumping her shoulder into his.

And Peter Parker’s head snapped around so fast it was a miracle he didn’t get whiplash.

God, Harry loved public school.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Halftime came in a blur of whistles and stadium noise. The marching band was setting up on the field, the snack lines were flooding, and most of the students scattered across the bleachers in search of churros or gossip. Gwen had run off again to deal with some leadership thing, ned had gone to the get more snacks, and Y/N and MJ had wandered off to the bathrooms. That left Peter and Harry… alone.

Peter didn’t mean to seek him out. He really didn’t. But there was Harry, standing a little off to the side behind the bleachers, scrolling through his phone with that stupid perfect hair and that stupid smug expression like he owned the place.

And Peter—tense, frustrated, and one glare away from combusting—walked straight over.

Harry looked up when Peter stopped in front of him.

“Well, if it isn’t loverboy,” he said lazily, slipping his phone into his coat pocket. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Peter narrowed his eyes. “Cut the crap, Osborn.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Wow. We’re jumping straight to last names now. Spicy.”

Peter stepped in closer. “I don’t know what your deal is with her, but you need to back off.”

Harry blinked slowly. “Her? As in Y/N? My date?”

Peter’s jaw tightened. “You know what I mean. The flirting. The touching. It’s rude. And annoying. Have some respect, man.”

Harry tilted his head slightly, his smirk returning. “Pretty sure Y/N doesn’t find it rude. She likes it when I touch her.”

Peter saw red. His fists clenched, shoulders squared. It took everything in him not to deck him right then and there.

“God, I knew it,” Peter said, voice low and dangerous. “You don’t care about her. This is all just some game to you. You think she’s just another challenge, something to win.”

Harry’s smile didn’t falter, but his gaze sharpened just enough to show he was paying attention now.

“She deserves better than that,” Peter hissed.

And Harry—cool, collected, annoyingly unbothered Harry—just shrugged and said, “Then be better.”

Peter flinched.

Harry stepped closer, voice dropping just enough to land like a punch. “If you’re so sure she deserves more, then go be it. Otherwise… maybe step aside and let someone who actually sees her have a shot.”

Peter stared at him, jaw clenched, breath tight in his chest. Because deep down, Harry wasn’t wrong. That’s what made it worse.

“She doesn’t even like you,” Peter snapped.

Harry raised both eyebrows, grinning again. “You sure about that?”

Before Peter could respond, the sound of Y/N’s laugh rang out from behind them. Both boys turned—she was heading back with MJ, clutching a bag of popcorn and smiling like nothing had happened. She looked happy. At ease.

She saw them and slowed slightly, sensing the tension. Her eyes flicked between them.

Peter took a step back like he hadn’t just threatened to commit murder. Harry threw an arm casually around Peter’s shoulder, smirking as he leaned in to whisper.

“Relax, Parker. I’m just playing the part you walked away from.”

Then he clapped Peter on the back and walked off toward Y/N without looking back.

Peter stood frozen, fists still tight at his sides, heart pounding in his ears.

He had no idea what was happening anymore.

But he knew one thing—he was losing her.

The second half of the game kicked off, but Peter might as well have been watching static.

His hands were stuffed in his jacket pockets, his knees bouncing restlessly under the bleachers bench, eyes fixed on the field—but not really. He could barely follow what was happening. Every cheer that erupted next to him sent a fresh stab through his chest.

Especially when they were her cheers.

Y/N was laughing again—loud, beautiful, effortless—as Harry leaned in to say something only she could hear. Peter didn’t catch the words, but the way she tossed her head back, mouth open in a smile that made his stomach twist? Yeah. He caught that.

A week ago, she would’ve laughed along to his jokes like that.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to play it cool, phone out, scrolling through nothing. His leg was still bouncing. His mind, a mess.

He wasn’t trying to show off anymore. Wasn’t laughing with Gwen. Wasn’t trying to “win.”

Because he wasn’t winning. Not anymore.

He was losing. Badly.

Gwen glanced over. “You okay?”

Peter looked up, blinking. “Yeah. Just… tired, I guess.”

She frowned a little. “Too tired to go to Flash’s after party?”

Peter turned to her, confused. “Flash is throwing a party?”

“Victory party,” Gwen said with a little shrug. “I know you don’t like him, but he promised me he wouldn’t mess with you or Ned tonight.”

Ned perked up instantly from beside MJ. “Wait, what about me?”

Gwen leaned forward to look at him. “I was saying we all got invited to Flash’s party.”

“Oh sick!” Ned grinned. “We should go! I’ve heard rivalry game parties are legendary.”

That’s when Y/N chimed in, glancing up from her conversation with Harry. “Go where?”

MJ rolled her eyes. “Flash’s party. Gwen’s dragging us.”

Harry leaned forward behind Y/N, slinging an arm across the back of her seat. “That’s a great idea actually. My first public school party. Can’t deny me that honor, right?”

Gwen beamed. “Exactly!!”

Then she turned to Peter again, all soft smiles and hopeful eyes. “Please come with us? It’ll be fun.”

Peter’s eyes flicked to Y/N. She wasn’t even looking at him. She was twirling a strand of her hair, laughing at something Harry said. So easy. So gone.

He looked back at Gwen. “Yeah. Okay. Fine.”

Because he couldn’t let her go to that party alone.

And definitely not with Harry Osborn.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Midtown won.

Which meant Flash’s house was packed.

There were lights strung up along the front porch, music booming so loud the floorboards seemed to vibrate. People were already spilling out onto the lawn. Somewhere deep inside, someone was cheering about a keg stand.

“Okay, ground rules,” Harry said casually as the group approached the front steps, his voice light but his eyes glancing toward Y/N. “You’re allowed to drink.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “How generous.”

“But I won’t,” Harry continued. “Because I am your responsible designated driver. I’d rather not get yelled at by Iron Man or arrested by Captain Stacy.”

“A gentleman and a self-preservation king,” MJ muttered approvingly.

Behind them, Peter rolled his eyes so hard it might’ve caused a migraine. Gwen’s fingers were laced through his—warm, soft, safe—but his attention was locked on the way Harry placed a guiding hand on Y/N’s lower back as they stepped inside.

The bass dropped. The crowd screamed. Flash’s parties were just as obnoxious as Peter thought they’d be.

Harry turned to Y/N with a lazy grin. “Any drinks for the princess?”

Y/N giggled. “Sure. Surprise me, Osborn.”

Harry smirked like it was a personal challenge. “That’s my specialty.”

He disappeared into the kitchen, and Y/N and MJ followed after, slipping through the crowd like they weren’t causing complete chaos just by existing.

Peter was still standing near the door when Ned elbowed him in the ribs.

“Bro,” Ned hissed. “This is it. This is the place to let loose and tell a certain someone how you really feel.”

Peter gave him a look. “We are at Flash’s house. This is, like, the least romantic location of all time.”

“So? Romance thrives in adversity. That’s a fact. Shakespeare probably said that.”

Peter groaned. “I’ve never even drank before. I don’t know how this stuff works.”

Ned shrugged. “You’ve heard of liquor courage.”

Peter hesitated. His eyes followed Y/N as she threw her head back laughing—laughing at something Harry said as he handed her a drink in a red solo cup.

Liquor courage. Maybe it was exactly what he needed.

“I’ll be back,” Gwen said suddenly, tugging Peter’s hand to get his attention. “One of my friends just got here. I’ll come find you in a bit, okay?”

She kissed his cheek, gave him a little wave, and vanished into the crowd.

Peter turned to Ned.

“Okay,” he said, eyes narrowing. “Let’s find some bad decisions.”

The party was in full swing.

Music throbbed through the walls, bodies pressed together in the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the living room, red cups littered every flat surface. Somewhere in the chaos, someone was singing into a hairbrush and Flash was shouting about being the MVP of life.

Y/N had lost count of how many drinks she’d had. She wasn’t drunk—not really. Just… floaty. Everything was a little fuzzy at the edges. Her cheeks were warm. She laughed at everything Harry said, let MJ spin her around in the kitchen, danced like no one was watching even though everyone was.

But Peter was.

From across the room, Peter sipped something that tasted like gasoline and stared.

She was glowing.

Y/N Stark in a crowded room was like a magnet—people were drawn to her without even realizing it. He hated that Harry got to be close enough to make her laugh. He hated that she wasn’t looking at him.

Until she was.

Their eyes met.

And then Gwen pressed up beside him, giggling, and kissed his cheek. “You’re so warm,” she murmured, unaware—or pretending not to see—how Peter went rigid.

Y/N saw.

Her smile faltered. Just for a second.

Then she turned, said something quick to MJ and Harry, and slipped out of the room.

Peter didn’t even think.

He shoved his cup into Ned’s hands and followed her.

Upstairs, the hallway was quiet. The music was muffled now, just a bassline vibrating through the floor. He spotted the open balcony doors and walked toward them, heart hammering.

She was leaning against the railing, her drink dangling from her fingers, face tipped up toward the stars.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Y/N turned, and her expression flickered when she saw him. “Shouldn’t you be downstairs? With your date?”

Peter sighed. “I saw you leave.”

“Congratulations. You have eyes.”

“Y/N…”

She shook her head, lips pressed tight. “Why are we fighting so much?” Her voice cracked slightly. “We’ve never fought like this before.”

Peter moved closer. Close enough that he could smell her perfume—faint and electric, like the air before a thunderstorm.

“I think you know why,” he said.

“No,” she whispered. “I don’t. I really don’t.”

He reached out, gently took her cup from her hand and set it on the balcony ledge.

“I hate this feeling,” Y/N admitted. “I hate fighting with you. More than anything.”

“I know,” Peter said. “So do I.”

She sniffed and gave a tiny laugh, eyes flicking up to his face. “Your cheeks are so flushed. I’ve never seen you drunk before.”

Peter cracked a grin, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Says you! You’re starting to slur your words a little.”

“Am not,” she said, grinning.

“Are too.”

They both laughed—real and easy—and for a moment, it was just them again. No drama. No fights. Just Peter and Y/N under the stars, making each other smile.

Then the quiet slipped in again.

Y/N’s voice dropped. “We’re not normal anymore.”

Peter’s heart twisted. “No,” he said. “We’re not.”

“I missed you,” she whispered.

Peter looked at her like it physically hurt him to say the next words. “So did I,” he said, barely above a breath. “So bad.”

Their eyes locked. Her gaze drifted to his lips. His followed.

They leaned in.

Almost.

Almost.

But then—he stopped. Just barely pulled back.

“We can’t mess this up.”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

He swallowed. “We can’t. Not this. Not us.”

“You were about to kiss me…” she said, voice thick with disbelief.

“I know.”

“God, Peter, would it really fucking kill you if we kissed?!”

He flinched, like the words physically struck him. “We can’t do this.”

“Why not?!”

“Because I—” But he didn’t finish. Couldn’t.

Y/N stepped back, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“Y/N/N—”

“I hate you,” she spat, but it came out sounding heartbreakingly soft.

And then she turned and left him standing there.

Peter stayed frozen, the cold wind biting at his face as the door clicked shut behind her.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Didn’t say a word.

“…Shit.”

Y/N descended the stairs with shaky breath and a glassy look in her eyes. Her lips were still tingling. Her heart was still racing—but not in the soft, glowing kind of way. This felt like something was tearing inside her. Something that had been holding out hope for way too long.

She spotted MJ and Harry across the room near the kitchen. MJ was absolutely roasting some jock who had worn flip flops to the party, and Harry was doubled over laughing, clutching his drink like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

Y/N blinked, dazed, and slipped between partygoers to rejoin them. She forced a smile, tucked herself under Harry’s arm, and laughed along.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room—

Peter stood against the wall, eyes wide, breathing hard.

“Bro,” Ned said quietly, “you look like you just watched someone get murdered.”

Peter turned to him, frantic. “I had her. Ned, I had her. And then I let her walk away. What is wrong with me?! Put me out of my misery.”

Before Ned could respond, Peter’s head snapped up.

Because across the room, Y/N locked eyes with him.

Her expression was unreadable.

And then something shifted.

Something snapped.

Before he could even process it, Y/N turned, grabbed Harry by the front of his shirt, and kissed him.

Full-on. Deep. Desperate.

MJ froze mid sentence, blinked, then slowly stepped away, muttering under her breath, “Okayyyy,” with a little laugh as she disappeared into the crowd.

Peter’s heart dropped. No, it plummeted.

He couldn’t breathe.

Then, Gwen appeared beside him.

“Oh—there you are,” she said with a bright smile, wrapping her arms around his waist.

He blinked, staring at Y/N across the room. Still kissing Harry. Still not looking away.

So Peter did the only thing he could think of.

He wrapped an arm around Gwen and pulled her closer. “Dance with me,” he said quickly.

She raised an eyebrow, but followed him to the makeshift dancefloor.

And just like that, Peter was touching Gwen’s waist, spinning her, saying anything and everything to make her laugh—and it worked. She giggled, cheeks flushed. But then—

She looked up.

Across the room.

At Y/N and Harry.

Still kissing.

Still pressed together.

And then she looked back at Peter.

At the way his eyes kept flicking toward Y/N when he thought no one noticed. At how forced his smile was. At how his hand tensed against her waist like he was holding onto something that was already gone.

Gwen understood.

Deep down, she always had.

But now, it was undeniable. This wasn’t real. She was a stand-in. A band-aid. A safe choice.

And even though it hurt—god, it hurt—she was going to let him pretend. Just for tonight. Because sometimes it was enough to feel chosen, even if it wasn’t forever.

Back on the other side of the room, Y/N finally broke the kiss.

She was breathing heavy, heart pounding, but her eyes were locked on Peter.

Still dancing. Still whispering.

Still trying to pretend it didn’t wreck him to see her like this.

So she turned to Harry, wild and impulsive and a little drunk, and said, “Wanna get out of here?”

Harry blinked. “Right now?”

She smirked. “Not like that. Just… upstairs. Somewhere quieter.”

Harry, to his credit, caught the glint in her eye. The pain she was trying to bury. The performance she was committed to. But he still said, “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

Y/N grabbed his hand and made sure—made absolutely sure—that Peter saw her as they climbed the stairs together.

She knew exactly what it looked like.

She wanted him to know.

She wanted it to hurt.

Peter’s jaw clenched. His entire body stilled. Gwen's voice became muffled, the music drowned under the sound of blood rushing to his ears. He watched as Y/N disappeared upstairs with Harry, hand in hand, laughing.

He had no idea if she meant it.

No idea if it was real.

But the damage was done.

And Peter Parker was spiraling.

Hard.

Y/N stumbled through the doorway with Harry behind her, his hand loosely on her back to make sure she didn’t trip. The music from downstairs thumped through the floor, muffled now, as the door clicked shut behind them.

Harry locked it.

Not for that reason—but because he didn’t want anyone barging in. Not when she looked like this. Not when she was shaking, chest rising and falling like her emotions were stuck somewhere between rage and heartbreak.

There was a bed—typical teenage boy's room, probably Flash’s older brother’s—and Y/N collapsed on it like her bones had given out. Harry stayed standing for a moment, watching her. He’d seen this kind of sadness before.

But not in her.

And not like this.

He slowly sat down beside her.

“Hey,” he said gently, “You okay?”

Without a word—without hesitation—Y/N turned and kissed him again.

It wasn’t like the one downstairs. That one had heat, electricity, defiance.

This one was sad.

Desperate. In a bad way.

Harry pulled back, blinking. “Whoa. Hey, hey,” he said softly, cupping her shoulders. “Maybe not like this.”

Y/N’s face fell. Her bottom lip trembled. “So you don’t like me either?”

“What—?”

“You don’t wanna have a super hot makeout with me?” she sniffled, eyes glassy. “That’s fine. Totally fine. I get it.”

Harry couldn’t help it. He let out a breath of a laugh. “I never said all that.”

Y/N blinked.

He smiled a little, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “I just said I’m not doing this while you’re drunk, Y/N/N. It wouldn’t be right. And you know it.”

Then—boop.

He gently tapped her nose.

She pouted.

“You’ll thank me in the morning,” he added. “I entertained your little act downstairs, but we’re not doing that here, sweetheart.”

That’s when her eyes started to fill again. Real tears now. Her voice cracked.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Harry. Please don’t be mad. I’m an idiot. I made it weird. You probably hate me. I made you uncomfortable, didn’t I—”

“Stop it,” he said, firm but warm. “Stop. Breathe.”

She hiccuped.

Harry reached for a tissue box on the nightstand and handed her a few. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. You didn’t scare me off. I don’t hate you.”

Y/N wiped her eyes, miserably quiet.

Harry looked at her like she was a puzzle he was still figuring out. Like he could see through every layer.

“Y/N/N,” he said, “any guy would be lucky to be with you. You’re smart, you’re terrifying, you’re hotter than sin—”

She let out a wet snort at that.

“—and anyone who rejects you is either an idiot,” he continued, “or just not the guy. That’s not on you.”

Y/N looked down at her lap, voice small. “I really thought he was the guy.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah. I kinda thought he was too. For what it’s worth.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

Then Harry stood. “Come on. Let’s get you sobered up a bit. I’ll grab you some water, maybe a piece of that sad pizza I saw in the kitchen.”

“You’re not taking me home yet?” she asked, wiping at her cheeks again.

He grinned. “Can’t have you like this in front of Iron Man. I like being alive.”

She let out a half-laugh, half-sob, nodding.

Harry turned to the door, then paused.

“Hey,” he added, looking back. “You’re not alone. Okay?”

Y/N looked at him, vulnerable and messy and aching.

She nodded again.

And for the first time that night, she actually believed it.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Harry helps Y/N into the passenger seat of his sleek black car, buckling her in like the gentleman he is. She’s tipsy, not drunk anymore, just quiet. Worn out.

MJ stands on the curb with Ned, both watching.

“You got her?” MJ asks, voice soft.

Harry nods. “Yeah. I’ll get her home safe.”

“My dad’s coming to pick us up, so don’t worry about us,” she adds. Then smirks. “Peter and Gwen left a while ago.”

Harry glances over, unreadable. “Right.”

“Thanks for looking out for her.”

He shrugs like it’s nothing. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/N sinks onto the couch with a heavy sigh. Her heels are dangling off her feet, and her eyes are glazed from more than just exhaustion.

Harry crouches in front of her, resting his forearms on his knees.

“You’ll call me if you need anything, yeah?” he says. “I’m the hangover king. Got all the tricks.”

Y/N gives a weak smile. “I will. Thank you. For tonight. And… for everything.”

He waves her off with that same effortless grin. “Please. You think I’m passing up the opportunity to be your knight in designer armor?”

She laughs.

He stands and starts walking to the elevator, turning back at the last second. “Hey, Stark?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re gonna be okay. Even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.”

And then he’s gone.

The tower is quiet. Everyone’s asleep.

Y/N pads barefoot into the lab, still in her day clothes, makeup a little smudged. Tony was hunched over one of his holographic schematics, coffee in one hand, a wrench in the other. Music played softly in the background, FRIDAY dimming the lights to match the late hour.

He paused, hearing footsteps pacing just outside the lab. Back and forth. Back and forth.

He sighed.

“Y/N,” he called without looking up. “If you’re trying to wear a hole in the floor, congrats, you’re close. Just get in here.”

A beat.

Then: the door slid open and Y/N stepped inside, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Tony turned around and studied her. “You look like hell, honey.”

She let out a dramatic groan and flopped onto the nearest chair, legs tucked under her. “I think I’m having a breakdown.”

Tony set the wrench down. “Is this a ‘there’s a villain loose in Manhattan’ breakdown or a ‘someone broke my heart and I want ice cream and an alibi’ breakdown?”

“Neither. Both. Ugh, I don’t know.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Color me intrigued.”

Y/N leaned forward, dropping her face into her hands. “Okay, so… hypothetically—hypothetically—what would you say if I told you I liked a guy who doesn’t like me back?”

Tony’s smirk vanished. “I’d say… he has garbage taste.”

Y/N snorted, but it was watery, her eyes getting glossy again. “Dad—”

“No, I’m serious. Who is this kid? You’re smart, you’re kind, you’ve got a face that belongs on the cover of Vanity Fair and hands that can fry an entire Hydra base. What’s not to like?”

“Apparently a lot,” she muttered.

Tony rolled his chair closer, softer now. “You wanna talk about it?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “It’s Peter.”

Tony blinked. “Our Peter? Peter Parker?”

She nodded again.

Tony leaned back, sighing. “I mean… I did kind of see that one coming.”

Y/N’s head snapped up. “Wait, what?”

He gave her a look. “Sweetheart. I have functioning eyes. You light up like a Christmas tree around him. And I’ve caught the way he looks at you when you’re not paying attention.”

She frowned. “You think he likes me?”

“I think he’s either madly in love with you or incredibly confused by the fact that he’s madly in love with you.”

That made her smile. Barely.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Lately it’s like… he’s always with Gwen. And she’s so pretty and confident and sweet and she says things like ‘Peter, you’re amazing’ and he glows.”

Tony frowned. “Y/N…”

“And I know it sounds dumb but sometimes I feel like I’m too much. Like I’ve got all this… noise inside me. And maybe he likes the quiet. Maybe I scare him.”

Tony’s face softened completely.

He stood, walked over, and knelt in front of her. Hands on her knees.

“Y/N Stark,” he said, voice low, “you are the best thing I’ve ever built. You hear me? You’re brilliant. Brave. Ridiculous. And so full of life that any guy who can’t see how lucky he’d be to love you — isn’t worth your time.”

Her eyes watered. “Even if that guy is Peter?”

He sighed, then smiled. “Look, I love the kid. Really. But if he ever makes you feel like less than you are… well, let’s just say I know a guy who can launch him into space.”

She laughed. A sniffle, a wipe of her cheek.

Then her voice turned quiet again.

“There was a moment tonight,” she said. “On the balcony. It was just us. And he looked at me like—god, like I was the only thing that existed.”

Tony didn’t say a word. Just listened.

“We were about to kiss,” she admitted, her voice shaking. “I know he was going to kiss me. And then he didn’t. He pulled away. Said we couldn’t mess this up.”

Tony’s expression dropped. His jaw tightened.

“And I—I get it, maybe. But it felt like this final confirmation that he’s never going to choose me. He had the chance. And he didn’t take it.”

Tony exhaled slowly, rubbing his hand over his face. “My baby…”

Y/N let out a half-laugh, half-sob. “I told him I hated him.”

“You don’t.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But it hurt. It really, really hurt.”

Tony nodded, sitting beside her now, pulling her close. “Then cry it out. You’re allowed to cry. Doesn’t make you weak.”

She leaned into him, cheek against his shoulder.

“I just wanted him to want me. Just once. Not Gwen. Not Liz. Me.”

Tony kissed the top of her head. “He’s an idiot.”

She smiled into his shirt. “You’re just saying that.”

“No. I’m saying that because I built an Iron Man suit in a cave with a box of scraps and even I wouldn’t be dumb enough to reject you.”

Y/N snorted.

Tony grinned. “C’mon. You want some ice cream?”

“Always.”

“And hey,” he added as they walked out of the lab, “for the record? You’re the most beautiful girl in the city. Possibly the planet. You make Gwen Stacy look like a warm up act.”

“Dad!”

“Just saying. Someone’s gotta hype you up. Might as well be me.”

And as Y/N leaned into his side, finally letting some of that ache bleed out into safety — she thought maybe being a Stark didn’t mean she had to carry it all on her own.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺

taglist: @f2lix @the-faceless-bride @lovely-foxes-exe @uhmellamoanna @gyus-lvr @aomi04 @liaverse37 @pettypeety @pleasingregulus @theyluvmesblog @sqfewrd @ultrunning @boomitsallie1

author's note: i'm evil laughing behind my screen rn. guys i'm so tempted to lose the plot and let y/n and harry become a thing BUT NO! we simply cannot let that happen. i'm trying to plant the seed for something but idk if you guys will catch on...

when i was writing the party scene all i could hear in my head was "party on u party on u party on party on u" LMAO

i've decided the official y/n x harry songs are bad for business by sabrina carpenter and perfect by one direction. which btw, can be found on the official clueless playlist!

[m00ngirl777]

Baby Kiss It, Better

Peter Parker x Reader

kiss number...13

You were half awake half asleep, in the couch of the living room, in your floor, facing the doors to the terrace Peter would climb in every night to you, your laptop on your lap with the lowest possible light setting displaying a halfway done crossword and soft music playing, nothing but some distant lights and the soft glow of the candles you liked to turn on, the velvety blanket on top of you, shielding you from the lingering cold in the room from the floor to ceiling windows, that, no matter what, kept cool, the calmest of scene suddenly disrupted when he stumbled in.

summary: Patching him up, ANGST, bby boy was shot and hes scared.

A/N: I kinda had in mind like Tobys and Andrews stories obviously, and I just feel like Peter would blame himself forever for not doing more or not being there, and getting shot for the first time ever would trigger something like this, poor baby boy needs a hug and a kiss...anyways hope you love it, thxx for reading, love u, byeeee. xoxo. -N.

p.s. my requests are open my loves<333

tw: blood, wounds, death, guns.

wc: 1569

You were half awake half asleep, in the couch of the living room, in your floor, facing the doors to the terrace Peter would climb in every night to you, your laptop on your lap with the lowest possible light setting displaying a halfway done crossword and soft music playing, nothing but some distant lights and the soft glow of the candles you liked to turn on, the velvety blanket on top of you, shielding you from the lingering cold in the room from the floor to ceiling windows, that, no matter what, kept cool, the calmest of scene suddenly disrupted when he stumbled in.

Seeming perfectly alive standing right in front of you, lifted a little weight of your chest, instantly replaced with something worse when you noticed he might not be as well as you thought. He struggled to catch his breath and kept tripping on nothing, his hand never leaving his side, you quickly scrambled to him, the previously serene ambient long gone.

“Peter? Are you okay?” You tried steadying him, hands trying to hold him upright, “talk to me baby, what’s wrong?” 

He tried taking his mask off and failed completely, falling on his knees and then back on his ass, grunting to take his mask off, breathing hard, his hand left a print of blood in the carpet making you gasp out loud. You went to kneel beside him, helping him with his mask, helping him get it off, revealing the look on his face matching that of a scared, hurt, little kid, breaking your heart.

Sweat, blood, dirt, and tears were on his face, along with that look, he was still grasping his side, you went to place your hand over his, trying to push it away lovingly to see what was wrong, cradling his head, pushing away his hand, your heart stopped seeing the shot wound. 

“Oh my God, Peter…fuck, baby talk to me please, what happened?” You pledged for him to make you understand the scene, but he was quiet, traying to catch his breath, his head fell back on the carpet, he closed his eyes. 

“Peter, I need you to stay awake,” You grabbed his face and gently shook it, needing him to keep his eyes open, feeling and being grateful for finding an exit wound, he just needed a patch. 

“Baby, I’m gonna go get the kit, just a minute, yeah?” You said, going to stand up, to with he grasped at your arm hard, panicking, pleading with his eyes, “I’m right here… baby, breath, look at me, I am right here… just going to the kitchen… one minute Peter… you're still bleeding…please,” So unwillingly you pushed his hands away, running to the kitchen for what you needed, then running back to him, with shaking hands first thing you pushed his suit dow to his hips, grabbed the alcohol from the kit and splashed your hands before throwing gloves on. 

“This is gonna burn, baby, I’m sorry,” You poured on the wounds, he groaned, one hand on your thigh, squeezing hard enough to leave a nasty bruise, “I know, I’m sorry… I’m sorry,” You scrambled thinking of what to de. Everyone was out on a mission, it was two in the morning, there was no one on call, you hoped and begged to a greater force that internally he was fine, and that it was just the enter and exit wounds you needed to worry about. 

Peter healed too fast for stitches, so you grabbed some of the special glue that had been synthesized for him, that dissolved as he clotted and other medical whatnot, squeezing some into the edges of the wound then going to squeeze to push it all together, his hand on your thigh moved to your arm, if he grabbed your a little harder you're sure he’d break something. 

“Just a little more, baby, i know it hurts,” You repeated the process with the exit wound, now making sure both openings were sticked closed, stopping the bleeding. With some cotton and more alcohol you cleaned around the wounds, Peter relaxing back, silent tears falling from the corners of his eyes, you knew for a fact this couldn’t have hurt him this much, not physically, there was something else. 

Letting the painful silence settle, you patched the wounds, with gauze then tape so he could maybe take a shower, just thinking of how to make him feel better, he was still, and quiet, the tears had stopped, an empty look in his eyes. 

“Baby, please talk to me,” You raked fingers through his hair, he closed his eyes, lip trembling again, as he weakly shook his head no, shattering your heart. 

“Can you stand?” He nodded, “okay, I’ll help you sit up, 1…2…” You helped him get up into a sitting position, he groaned. You stood up and pulled him with you, successfully getting him to stand up, leaning on you. 

You looked back down at the mess of gauze, gloves, the scattered contents of the kit, blood everywhere, stench of alcohol, and a carpet you'll have to replace, making your stomach turn. You walked him to your bathroom, setting him on a counter, drawing the loveliest of baths for him, you helped him undress, stripping him of everything, the lost and scared look in his eyes, momentarily changed for a flustered one as he stood naked in your bathroom, letting you walk him and sit him in the warm bath like he was a little kid, but soon went back to empty. 

You scrubbed and washed his body, the water darkening slightly, you washed his hair, and he closed his eyes, letting out a breath, frowning softly, face riddled with something you couldn’t point… guilt…pain…remorse…and so on.

“Please talk to me Peter… I’m terrified,” Soft fingers played with his wet curls. He shrugged gently, not being able to find anything to say. 

“I got shot,” He said, after a long pause. 

“I know…why?” he glared at you, then closed his eyes, the look on his face worsening. You took a deep breath, then pulled the plug to drain the tub, you helped him get up, rinse, and get out. You wrapped him in a big fluffy towel, drying him, careful with the wounds, wrapped in the towel you dragged him to your bed, sitting him down. You went to your closet and brought back a pair of boxers for him. 

“Can you get these on?” You asked, handing them to him as he nodded, you climbed in bed as he got them on, dropping the towel, before slightly struggling to get in bed, he sat back in the headboard, letting you pull the covers over his legs, eyes still empty, head somewhere else. 

“I’ve never been shot before…” he said in the smallest voice, tears welling up in his eyes.

He was scared.

“Baby…” You cupped his face, hugging him carefully, “It must’ve hurt so much… and the sound… I’m so sorry…” 

“I-I’m okay…” He looked down, the tears in his eyes falling, he squeezed your arm, trying to talk.

“M-my…” His face scrunched in a quiet sob, you wiped his tears with your thumbs, kissing his temple, pulling away to look at him, trying to understand, he sniffled.

“My… my uncle… was s-shot…he died… when I was 14…” He squeaked the last bit out, sobs wrecking through him as you brought him in, and suddenly everything made sense, he wasn’t just scared, he was sorry. 

“I… I looked for the guy…for weeks…I had him…I wanted him dead…I-I couldn’t… h-he stabbed me in the leg… got a-away…but now I… now I know what he felt…and he was all alone…” The sobs came back, and your heart broke further for Peter, tears of your own starting to sting your eyes. 

“You were just, a boy, baby… it wasn’t your call…there’s no way it could ever be your fault…even if there’s something you could’ve done… it’s not your responsibility” He held on to you, and your sweet words he wanted to believe, that his tortured savior complex wouldn’t let him. 

“Let me see… it was on this one?” You placed your hand over his left thigh, he had calmed down, sobs stopped, he looked sad, exhausted more than anything. He nodded, looking away and closing his eyes, you pushed his boxers up, feeling and scanning for the scar, when finally right at the side of his upper thigh you felt it, he bit his lip, not wanting to keep sobbing like a child. 

“Peter, you’re a hero… but you’re human…sadly, there’s not a single thing you could’ve done… we make choices, and I am so sorry the choices all the people around you made that night hurt you this much… but this is not your fault, baby…” You rubbed gently on the scar, and leaned down slowly, placing a feather like kiss on it, making him let out a quiet sob.

“I’m so sorry for everything you’ve lost,” You kissed it again.

“And I promise to always make sure you know that it wasn’t your fault,” You placed another kiss, sitting back up, to look in his eyes. 

“I love you, Peter, and I will always be here to remind you of that” You kissed his lips, sealing your promise, to always love every part of Peter, even the ugliest darkest scars life has left on him.

[moonlit-imagines]

warnings:

a/n: sorry guys…this will be the last request i accept for a baby/toddler/child (agewise) reader!! it’s been added to the rules but do not fear anon!! this one goes out to you 💕💕

requested by anonymous

Tony only left for five minutes to take a shower, and in all those five minutes, you got loose.

“What are you talking about, JARVIS? Y/N’s two, they couldn’t have opened the door! You let them out?” Tony yelled, running through the halls with wet feet and shampoo in his hair.

“No, sir, they seem to have figured out a way to open it themselves.” JARVIS replied. “Please be careful, sir. You may slip.” He added, but Tony was only focused on wrangling you. “Y/N should be in the kitchen now.” And as Tony turned the corner, he found you with your toy wagon full of building blocks, a stack of “stairs” you’d created with them, and your head in the fridge with all sorts of food on the ground.

“Strawberries?” Tony asked you, in awe of your invention—not original by any means, but impressive for a two year old.

“Stwahbewwy?” You replied in an innocuous baby accent and your dad put you safely on the floor, reaching into the drawer that contained your favorite treat. “Tank you.” You grabbed your fruits and wandered over to the couch.

“If that wasn’t the proof you needed to know y/n’s yours, I don’t know what is.” JARVIS commented, beginning to pull the video feed from your adventure and adding it to the “Baby Book” file in Tony’s experiment collection.

“You think I ever doubted it? Y/N’s got my perfect facial hair, duh.”

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @prettysbliss // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @beth-gallagher22 // @sk1bidi-n1k0-e4ts-people // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[vinnyshouse]

You're as beautiful as the day I lost you

Past Peter Parker x fem Stark reader, Joaquín Torres x fem Stark reader

Summary: Peter Parker is sent to cover a charity gala and is tasked with taking pictures of the invited Avengers, Sam Wilson and Joaquín Torres. Little did he know he would face an old lost friend.

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: fem reader, angst, one-sided love, erased memories, hurt Peter, jealousy, use of Y/N, no physical description of anything.

Peter straightened his tie again. It wasn't common for the Daily Bugle to send him to this type of event, but since Aaron, a photographer colleague, dislocated his arm that morning, there was no better option for the night. He barely had time to gather his old suit and dust it off when he was called an hour before the event.

But the extra money will be highly appreciated. 

“Come on, Parker! You got that one?” 

He would also be one of the few photographers allowed to enter the main event, thanks to Erick, a fellow journalist in charge of interviewing the influential people who would be showing up at The St. Regis Hotel.

“All good, no worries.”

“Excellent. Because the other members of the press are entering the hotel, and I don’t wanna be left outside. Come on!”

Erick started jogging with Peter just behind him, and there were already other reporters being led to the elevator by the hotel staff. Before entering the elevator, they were handed a badge with the word ‘PRESS’ written on it.

The easy job was taking photos of the investors right after Erick had interviewed them, but the main job was catching the two Avengers attending tonight.

Sam Wilson and Joaquín Torres were confirmed as honor guests for the foundation, and Peter still didn’t know what the money would be used for, but it was imperative to have a word with them. In Erick’s words.

The place was immaculately decorated to the brim with yellow lightning, big bouquets in the corners, a bar with three bartenders serving, and several waiters with trays full of flutes with champagne or appetizers. There was also a group of musicians playing some old classic music Peter had no idea the name of it. Something expensive, probably.

“Hey Erick, does it take too long to cover the necessary for these events?”

“Well, that depends. If I haven’t interviewed all the names on my list, but I got something really good, we could leave earlier. But I’m a man of principles, Parker, and I like marking all the names in my list.” Erick sounded very optimistic for someone who will spend the next hours of his life talking with a bunch of folks who didn’t know how much they spent in a month. Peter would be doing more producing things if it weren’t because he needed the extra income.

Time went by between interviews. Peter didn’t talk very much, only asking for permission to photograph the guests when Erick was done with them, and he was even complimented for being such a handsome young man, in Mrs Violet’s words, an old lady whose fortune was handled by her grandson by now. It was nice to hear, but the spell broke when she added what a shame he was a reporter when she thought Peter wasn’t hearing.

He wasn’t even a reporter. Much less wanted to be here, but god bless the enhanced hearing that allowed him to notice certain things. Like the gossip between these people to indicate Erick where to find the best point of view. If it helps him to leave earlier, so be it.

“Honor guests, honor guests. Bullshit. Wilson and Torres are not even here,” Erick was whispering only for Peter to hear. “This is crap, man. My column is gonna look like some old-fashioned knitting magazine if I don’t find anything better. Those two were my best bet for this.”

“Is that bad?” Peter whispered back.

“Were you not paying attention?”

“Honestly?”

“Forget it.”

“Hey, I’m joking. You have good things; they told you about the funds for the public schools. I wouldn’t imagine many of them were paying attention to what causes they give their money to.”

“Yeah, but that is not…” Erick’s train of thought was suddenly cut when he spotted something good enough to shut him up.

“All good, man?”

“Oh my god, look at that. My cherry on top with my missing target. They are gonna be a very hot front cover.”

Erick started walking without sparing a second glance at Peter, and when Peter looked at what had his partner so happy with, he understood.

On the other side of the dance floor was a face he had seen almost every day on TV, but hadn’t been in the same room for years. Same bright eyes, brighter than the last time he looked at them, a beautiful silhouette adorned with a vanilla dress and modest jewelry. She was holding a flute of champagne in such an absurdly delicate way that it made her look like a royal member among peasants.

Y/N Stark was the most beautiful sight Peter had seen in years.

And she was holding Joaquín Torres’ hand like a lifesaver while she was listening to whatever Erick was saying.

A flush of memories he hadn’t seen in years invaded his thoughts. The first chemistry class together, the first video game played, the first date, first kiss, and inevitably, their last one too. 

His first true love and the one he still remembers and yearns to get back in his most desperate dreams, even knowing there is a world that makes that impossible. And now, someone else’s touch in her hand cemented that fact.

He came back to his senses when he noticed Erick calling for him in the most controlled way possible to not get many glances at them. The three were looking directly at him, and that made Peter react and start walking. When he reached them, the rest of the world slowed down.

“Thank you so much for your time, Miss Stark and Mr Torres. We won’t take long,” Erick was back to his script, more animated than ever.

“Not a problem, as long as you don’t twist any words for your column.” Y/N’s tone was casual, but Peter knew better. Under that surface of sweetness and politeness was a light threat nobody wanted to face.

She truly hadn’t changed in these years,

“I wouldn’t dare. Now, Miss Stark, you are the main star tonight with your new Foundation helping public education in New York. Where did that come from?”

“You see, Erick, I studied in a public school before going to MIT. I had the best years of my life there, but I also understand I came from a privileged family, and I happened to see many students who struggled financially. Midtown High School is focused on science and technology, and my late father used to invest a lot of money in the school while I studied there. So I’m trying to bring that same opportunity to other schools while convincing others to do the same.”

They kept going for a while, but Peter couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t Y/N’s voice. That beautiful song he hadn’t listened to in so long was talking about the importance of educating young minds and supporting scholarship programs, so many more could have an opportunity.

He remembered one time they were talking about the future, and independently of what they wanted to do separately, they knew they wanted to be together during the process.

And now they were living that future, but Y/N couldn’t care less about the nobody photographer beside her. Because she can’t remember him or all the promises they made at sixteen.

And if that hadn’t been enough, Joaquín’s hand was now on the small of her back, moving in an almost indetectable motion as if he were caressing her.

“...so this development has been on the long term, for what you said, Miss, why did you decide to announce your relationship during this event?”

Peter didn't even notice when they changed the subject.

At that question, Y/N and Joaquín exchanged glances with smirks on their faces, and Joaquín answered.

“We make time for each other, but sometimes it’s too difficult to do it. We reached the point where it was impossible to be out of the public eye and together at the same time, so we stopped caring and decided it was time. I couldn’t be happier to finally say that she’s my lady.”

Y/N looked so satisfied and reassured by that answer, her eyes were sparkling with pride and something more Peter didn’t want to name.

Because she looked at him with those same eyes, and it was impossible to know if the pang in his heart was because she was giving those eyes to another man, or because she didn’t remember she gave them to him once.

“I really appreciate your time, and I wish you a lovely night,” Erick said, looking at him and leaving space for Peter to ask his only question. 

“May I have a picture?”

“Of course, Mr…?”

“Parker. Peter Parker”

“Of course, Mr Parker.”

No recognition, all the same neutral sweetness she gave to all the press. Nothing special. Just another photographer.

He took the photo. Shiny smiles and his hand on her hip, of course.

“Have a lovely night, and please, feel free to drink and eat as you wish. Food is also for everybody.” She spared him a final smile, this one sincere, asking them to take a break and grab something to eat.

“You’re so kind, Miss Stark. Have a lovely night as well,” Peter answered and walked beside Erick to an isolated corner in the room.

“That was the best shot of the night. I got the CEO and an Avenger! An Avenger, Parker! And not just that, I also got gossip, that will always be a welcome plus to my column, oh god.”

That comment made Peter think about one thing. He grabbed the badge hanging from his neck and looked at the golden letters right above the word ‘PRESS’. It was read:

Stark Charity Foundation “Education for All”

· 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.・。・゜✭・・✫・゜・。☾⋆⁺₊

Thank you very much if you read the whole thing! Please make notice if there are any mistake so I can correct them :)

[kissingchamber]

illicit affairs

𝜗𝜚 synopsis: Tony finds out his son is dating his intern. His intern!

𝜗𝜚 pairing(s): MCU!Peter Parker x Stark!male reader; Tony Stark x son!reader

𝜗𝜚 warning(s): nothing really this is just silly fluff and Tony being clueless

𝜗𝜚 note(s): English is not my first language!!! Based on this request, hope u enjoy anon :3 title from taylor swifts "illicit affairs" !!

Everyone in the Avengers tower knows you and Peter are dating! Well, almost everyone in the Avengers tower knows you and Peter are dating. The only one who hasn't yet figured it out is the one and only, Tony Stark, your dad.

Honestly, it's a surprise he hasn't found out yet with the way you and Peter have been looking at each other with longing heart eyes and cuddling during movie nights. And he calls himself a genius...

It's sort of become a game for you and Peter, seeing how long it'll take for Tony to realize what's really going on.

What makes it even more unbelievable is that Pepper was the first one to know!

─────────────── ⋆ ───────────────

You make your way down to the lab where you knew Peter would be— he'd texted, telling you he would be down in the labs today— working on something for his suit with Tony.

You slide into the lab, finding Peter sat in a chair, eagerly chatting with your dad and typing something on a tablet at the same time.

You come up behind him, wrapping your arms around him, hugging him to your chest and burying your face into his hair. "Hi, Pete." You murmur.

"H— hey!" Peter's face flushes a pretty pink color and you can't help but smirk. He's so easily flustered.

You almost forget Tony is there until he starts talking. "Oh, hey kid! Care to help us a little? We could really use an extra set of hands." He says, acting like the way you're holding Peter is totally platonic.

You nod, mumbling a sure, but not before sending Peter a look. He cannot be serious... He shoots back an agreeing gaze.

─────────────── ⋆ ───────────────

It's movie night, most of the Avengers are scattered across the room, sitting in all kinds of weird positions that make you want to laugh. You and Peter are laying on one of the couches, practically entangled together.

Everyone is arguing about which movie to watch when Tony walks in with Steve trailing behind him, their arms filled with snacks.

Steve looks at you and Peter, mumbling something about lovebirds and takes a seat on one of the recliners.

Tony settles on a loveseat next to Pepper and joins in on the movie debate.

You and Peter share a look, Tony definitely heard what Cap said, right?

─────────────── ⋆ ───────────────

You walk into the kitchen where Peter is sitting on a barstool, leaning onto the island and nodding along to whatever Tony— who is currently refilling his coffee cup— is saying.

You press a kiss to Peter's cheek in greeting, sitting down on another barstool. He gives you a soft smile in response and grabs ahold of your hand.

Tony finishes getting his coffee, ruffles your hair and leaves the room wordlessly, like you hadn't just kissed your boyfriend— that he doesn't know is your boyfriend— right in front of him!

You and Peter stare at each other for a silent second before bursting into laughter. Tony is so clueless it's hilarious.

─────────────── ⋆ ───────────────

When Tony finally does find out it's possibly in the most embarrassing way ever.

You and Peter were in your room, making out on your bed, when Tony walked in.

"Dad—!" You yell and scramble to get off of Peter, whose face is currently the shade of bright red reminiscent of a tomato.

"Sorry, sorry!" Tony says quickly, at least he sounds apologetic.

You glare at him with no real heat in your expression. "You could've, you know, knocked before you came in. Like you're supposed to." You grumble.

"I know, I know. But uhm... since when were you two a thing?" He asks, almost sounding hesitant.

Peter looks like he's trying his hardest not to laugh, barely succeeding. "Everyone else figured it out months ago, if that gives you any idea."

"What—" Tony begins but you interrupt him; "And Pepper was the first one to find out"

"And she didn't tell me!?" He sounds so betrayed, it's so funny you can barely respond. "Apparently not!" You get out before bursting into giggles, Peter laughing beside you.

Tony turns on his heel and rushes into the hallway "Pepper!" He cries out.

At this, you and Peter can't hold it in anymore, erupting into the kind of laughter that makes your tummy hurt and leaves your sides sore afterwards.

And he calls himself a genius.

𝜗𝜚 note: this is longer that anything ive posted previously so thats why this took me so long to post 𖦹 ´ ᯅ ` 𖦹 thanks 4 reading!!! reblogs r super appreciated!! :3

[natty-light-of-my-life]

the genius, billionaire, playboy, philantropist's niece

Summary: Being Tony Stark’s niece, you often found yourself hanging out with the Avengers and had developed a bit of a crush on Natasha when you were a teenager. The two of you joke about it now, but Yelena doesn’t seem to find it all that funny.

Notes: Yes, I gave Tony a brother as a plot device. Canon is merely a suggestion.

Having come from a family of geniuses and engineers, people were surprised to find out that you instead decided to pursue a path in social work. Your father had taken the news so badly, in fact, that he sent you into the city to live with your uncle Tony when you were only fifteen years old. “Come back when you develop more than two brain cells to rub together,” he’d scoffed, convinced that your uncle’s wild, unstable lifestyle would scare you back to the suburbs within the year.

Despite that, not only had you stayed in the city for the rest of the year, you continued through high school, graduating with a diploma from New York City Public Schools just to spite your previous, pretentious, private school upbringing. 

But you gained more than just a different high school experience. Living with your uncle was exciting, if a bit unconventional. Sure, he had turned over a new, superheroic leaf, but those first few years that you spent with him before Iron Man, before the Avengers Initiative, they left an impression on you. You enjoyed sneaking out of your room in Stark Tower and going upstairs to witness the parties that Tony loved to throw. Sometimes, you would be able to sneak a fruity cocktail from an unsuspecting bartender. Sometimes you would meet some really cool people.

You had met Natalie Rushman, now Natasha Romanoff, at one of those events. Oh, she was drop-dead gorgeous, older than you, and you were in the midst of your gay awakening as a freshly seventeen-year-old girl with Stark as your last name. Although you had taken on your uncle’s playboy-ish ways with the girls at school, you had dropped everything and everyone else when you met her. You were smitten at first sight. 

Of course, Natasha only ever saw you as a kid and tolerated you as any undercover agent would do in her position. However, that didn’t deter you. You followed your uncle, and in effect, Natasha, around wherever they went. You sat in front of Tony’s office, with an overpriced cup of coffee to hand to Natasha any morning that you didn’t have to go to school. Coffee that she would accept and immediately hand over to your uncle (it was his credit card that paid for it, so you weren’t too mad about it). You would volunteer to be a waiter at his extravagant parties and spend all night catering to the older woman’s every whim, not that she asked you to do anything except bring her more flutes of champagne. The polite smiles she gave you afterwards lingered with you for weeks at a time.

Tony found it hilarious, especially so when you were told that Natalie, the PA that you were so enamored with, was actually an ex-KGB, could-kill-a-man-with-her-thighs (and not in the fun way), bona fide super spy.

“Sorry,” you had asked, clearing your throat, “was that supposed to make me less attracted to you?” Nat had only rolled her eyes and handed you a stuffed toy rabbit that she had picked up on her most recent mission to god-knows-where.

“A reminder that you are a child and much too vulnerable to be playing with the predators of the world.”

“Aw, Natty,” you had cooed, “giving me gifts now, are ya? I always knew you loved me, deep down.”

Natasha never told you, but you knew that she had, indeed, come to love you. But only platonically. She had made that very clear through the years.

“If you try one more pick-up line on me, baby Stark, I will throw you out this window.”

“You called me baby! And I’ll happily fall for you, babe.”

Then you had gone off to college, and while you thought your heart had been broken, having left New York City without getting together with the Black Widow, you quickly realized that maybe leaving the city was for the best. Eventually, you realized that you were just young and impressionable, that Natasha Romanoff was too hot to ignore, and that was okay. You dated a lot in college, nothing too serious, and finished undergrad with a better understanding of yourself and your sexuality.

Now you were in your second year of grad school. The Avengers had made up after their civil war-sized disagreement, and everything seemed to be smooth sailing right along.

You were studying your notes in the Avenger Compound’s common room when you heard footsteps shuffling in the adjoining hallway. Picking your head up, you noticed the cluster of bodies that approached you: Tony, Steve, Nat, and–

“Hey, kid,” your uncle greeted you, “didn’t know you’d be here this weekend. You get to be one of the first to meet our new stray!” Immediately, this earned an elbow to his ribs, and Tony grunted in pain.

“I am no stray, tin man,” said an unfamiliar, scowling, young woman. She had a conspicuous Eastern European accent and was dressed very fashionably in green courduroy. Stray wisps of her blonde hair fell out of the edges of a fishtail braid. Ah, you thought, another attractive Russian. You were in trouble.

You gave the new arrival a warm smile and introduced yourself.

“Nice to meet you. My name is Yelena,” the woman said, holding out a hand for you to shake. You took it, surprised to feel the countless callouses in her firm grip.

“She’s Natasha’s sister,” chimed Tony. Your head snapped over to the older woman.

“Sister?”

Natasha smirked, obviously amused at your dumbstruck expression, “What, is Clint the only one allowed to have a secret, hidden family?” You looked between the two women, not seeing a physical resemblance, yet found an uncanny likeness in their stances, their air of confidence and–

“You are still holding my hand, dorogoy.”

You blushed and hastily released the other woman’s hand, mumbling an apology.

“No need to apologize, kotenok, I never said I did not enjoy holding the hand of a pretty girl.”

In the coming weeks, you grew ever more enamored with Yelena, much to the rest of the team’s amusement. Even Natasha joined in the ribbing.

“You seem to have a type, baby Stark,” she joked during a quiet moment between the two of you in the kitchen.

“Aw, are you jealous, Natty? Don’t worry, babe, you’ll always have a special place in my heart,” you teased as you rested your chin on her shoulder, wrapping her in a tight hug from behind.

At the sound of a throat being cleared, you flinched and let the redhead go. Yelena was standing in the doorway, holding your phone in her hand.

“Uh, I do not want to interrupt, but your phone keeps beeping and I would like it to stop,” she said, keeping her gaze on her older sister as she spoke to you. Her eyebrows were scrunched adorably, and you thanked her as you checked the class group chat you were in. It was blowing up, and you frowned.

“Shit, our professor just moved up the due date of our paper,” you mumbled, “I hate to skip movie night, but I haven’t even started the draft yet….” The three of you were the only ones in the compound this weekend as the boys and Wanda were all off on a mission. 

“It’s alright,” Natasha reassured, “Yelena and I have been needing some catch-up time anyway.”

You looked at the younger sister, and she nodded, seemingly reluctantly.

“Okay, thanks for understanding,” you said as you ran to grab your coat and bag. “I’ll let you pick the movie next time, Nat! Love ya, bye!” In your rush and panic about your impending assignment being due, you missed seeing Yelena’s scowl deepen. Was there something going on between you and her sister?

Due to your overwhelming and deepening crush on the newest Avenger, you took it upon yourself to be responsible for once and keep your distance. You would just be friends, you insisted to yourself. You made sure to never be alone with Yelena if you could help it, and stuck to Natasha’s side whenever it was just the three of you. 

While your infatuation with Natasha had long since faded, you were still a Stark and Natasha was still fun to flirt with. Over the years, it had become an inside joke between the two of you, and the other Avengers had grown used to you testing your best one-liners on the assassin. 

After a truly awful line you had voiced at a team dinner, Thor had laughed heartily, “I liked that one, little Stark!” He patted your shoulder as he went to serve himself more food, “You are much more charming than your uncle.”

“See,” you pouted, “Thor thinks I’m charming, Nat. Are you charmed?”

Tony scoffed, “Thor’s opinions are dubious at best.”

Natasha shot you a deadpan look, “So charmed, I’m nauseous from your presence.”

“I think that’s just Wanda’s cooking, actually,” you quipped.

Wanda glared at you, “I am a great chef and you know it.” She moved to take your plate away, “If it’s so bad, then starve.”

You clung to your plate and whined, “Nooo I’m sorry, your cooking is great, darling.”

A screeching sound of a fork scraping across a plate had everyone’s head turning to look at the blonde-haired source of the noise. Yelena looked up and scowled at the eyes on her, daring someone to say something. You cocked your head, getting her attention.

‘You okay?’ you mouthed at her. She looked away and huffed out of her nose, chomping down on a forkful of potatoes.

A few weeks later, and despite your best efforts, you found yourself alone with Yelena in the kitchen. The others had left on last-minute official Avenger duties, and Yelena, despite having joined the team months ago, had yet to be introduced to the public as an Avenger. As a result, she wasn’t invited.

You were making yourself a snack in what you thought was comfortable silence when Yelena spoke up.

“Why do you never flirt with me?”

The knife in your hand slipped and embedded itself in the grain of the cutting board, narrowly missing your thumb. You stared wide-eyed at the apple slices in your hand before confusedly turning to the other woman in the room.

 “Do….do you want me to flirt with you?” you asked tentatively. Hope was rising in your chest, suffocating you despite your best efforts to tamp it down.

Yelena looked away, glaring at the apples behind you, “Depends. Do you want to flirt with me?”

You were confused, “I don’t understand, Yelena. Do you…. Are you feeling left out because the team left you behind? Because I promise you those Avenger meetings are really boring and–”

The blonde groaned in exasperation and stood up, marching over to where you were standing. You gulped, mouth going dry, as Yelena came closer. She aggressively and repeatedly poked your chest.

“You ignore me. You never look me in the eye. Yet you cling to my sister like a lost puppy. You call the witch ‘darling’. You video chat with your college friends and laugh with strangers you just met,” Yelena swallowed, her hand coming to a rest on your sternum, “What did I do to make you hate me, instead?”

You let out a staggered sigh, heart beating so hard that you were sure that Yelena could feel its contractions under her palm. “I don’t hate you, Yelena.”

She looked at you, eyes heartbreakingly glazed and threatening to spill over in frustration, “Don’t lie to me, dorogoy. You can hate me, Y/N, but do not dare lie to me.”

You shook your head, reaching up and grasping her hand with both of yours, your heart thump-thump-thumping underneath your entwined fingers. “I don’t hate you, Yelena. I don’t know how to hate you. I wouldn’t want to ever hate you. I ignore you because I don’t know how to act around you. I’ve never flirted with you because you deserve better than that. You deserve something real and wholesome and someone that can treat their partner better than my past situationships would suggest I ever could. I would never lie to you, and I am sorry I ever made you feel lesser than the most absolutely beautiful, deserving person that I’ve come to know.” 

You finally closed your eyes and wrapped Yelena in a hug. She stiffened at first, but before you could release her, she swung her arms around your neck and pulled you in tightly.

When you two finally pulled away, you let out a wet laugh. Yelena tried to discreetly wipe her eyes on your shoulder before letting go.

“You’re wrong, you know.”

You cocked your head, “About what?”

Yelena took your hand in hers, the callouses you were first introduced to all those months ago tracing patterns on your wrist, “That I deserve better than you.” She leaned in and your eyes fluttered as her sweet breath and sweeter words warmed you to your core, “I am messy too, Y/N. And it is I who does not deserve you.”

Your breathing hitched as you started to correct her, but she gently bumped her nose into yours before a word could leave your lips.

“But I am a selfish woman, Y/N,” she whispered, caressing your cheek with the hand that was not holding yours, “and I do not care.”

She stole the stuttered breath that left your lips before kissing you, finally. You would spend forever proving her wrong if you had to, you promised yourself. If she lets you.

And she let you.

---

And scene! Poor Wanda "then starve" Maximoff catching strays lmao. Might give her a fic in the future to make up for it 👀