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Another hard day at school. Trying to keep up with grades and failing anyway. It's just not as easy as everyone says it is. You haven't been sleeping, eating, drinking, or doing anything other than doomscrolling on your bed and watching movies at 3 AM. Many people say your life is perfect just because your dad is the billionaire, Iron-Man, Tony Stark. The truth is. . Tony wasn't there when you were first born. You were born during his playboy era, and your mom was some random dancer in a nightclub. You don't even know her name or what she looks like. Tony only started seeing you after he came back from being held captive for three months in Afghanistan. He enjoyed listening to your babbles and holding your tiny body in his arms, with your cheek resting against his glowing arc reactor. You used to be so fascinated by it, it was almost funny.

But those were the simple times. The times when you didn't have to worry about grades and you didn't understand your father's work. You two started arguing more after you grew up. He had a tendency to send you to your room but not without talking to you first.

It's currently 9 PM, and you're working on some homework. You feel burned out and tired, but you know that you have to turn it in tomorrow.

Your stepmom, or the only mom you ever knew, really, walked inside your room. "Honey? Your dad asked if you could find his toolbox somewhere. He's working on one of his 'toys' again." She chuckled, leaning on the doorway. "I have to sort some documents out."

You nodded, sighing. "Yeah." You got up from your chair and went to go find his toolbox.

A few minutes later, when you entered the code in order to get into his workshop, there he was. Eyeing a half-done Iron-Man suit in front of him.

"What's that? Like- Mark 25 or somethin'?" You ask. Setting the toolbox down on the floor.

"Something like that." He said. Eyeing the number on the suit, which was probably the furthest from 25. I mean- he had like 40 suits 10 years ago. "Hey, stay here." He waved with his hand. Still not looking at you. "I need you to be artsy."

You tilt your head. "Artsy?"

"Yeah. What colour should the chest plate be? I'm thinking. . Silver, gold, maybe metallic blue. The fans would absolutely love blue."

"Dad, don't you already have a blue suit?"

He scoffed. "Who said I can't have two blue suits?" He laughs. Sitting on a chair, putting one leg over another. "Sit with me, kiddo. I haven't seen you all day." He pat the chair next to him.

"How's stuff?" He asked. Grabbing a pack of nuts he was eating earlier. "Want one?" He extended his arm towards you.

"I'm okay. . Thanks." You say quietly. "Stuff's been. . I dunno. Tiring." You shrugged.

He could only nod. "Yeah, that's high school for ya, kid. You need help with anything? Algebra? Chemistry? I build robotic suits, y'know." He said jokingly.

"Maybe. But, it's not just grades."

"Yeah? What is it, then? Trouble findin' a partner for your little dance coming up next month?" He ruffled your hair, while you squirmed away from him. Suddenly feeling a bit emotional as you were starting to open up to him. It's not something you're used to.

His teasing smile faltered, and he even stopped chewing. "Honey?" He leaned forward. "What is it?" He asked. His voice softer than before.

"It's just-" You covered your face as your cheeks flushed in embarrassment. You can't cry in front of your dad.

"Put 'em down." He gently commanded. His hands gingerly put yours down. "Honey bunny. . What's going on? Something you're not tellin' me?" He brushed your hair away. "You know you can talk to me anytime."

You sniffled softly. "It's so hard, dad. . Grades, people. . The worst thing is. . They think I'm perfect just because I come from a rich family. I can't say anything there. ."

His expression softened. "Oh. . Sweetheart. C'mere, gimme a hug?"

"I don't do hugs, dad. . You know that."

He shrugged. "But it might help. Come on." He opened his arms wide. "You used to hug me all the time."

You contemplated it for a moment. Maybe. . Just maybe. Your dad has never hurt you. Not intentionally. Eventually, you settled right in his arms - sort of. You didn't wrap your arms around him. You just bonked your head on his chest and let him do the rest. "Or you could just do that." He chuckled quietly. His chest vibrating with the sounds of his quiet joy. Joy that you finally hugged him after a few years. His cheek was against your head, lifting it slightly to peck you. Rubbing your back gently.

"You can cry if you want to. You can even scream, I don't care."

"You're so corny, dad. ."

"You loved corn as a baby." He pecked your head again.

"No, I didn't."

"Come on, that was your favourite snack."

"No, it wasn't, dummy. ."

He pointed a finger at you. "Don't call me dummy, I'm your dad."

"You're a dad who's a dummy." You retort.

"You know what, I'll let it slide. Just this once." He hugged you again. "I let everything slide."

"No, you don't. ." You mumbled against his chest.

"Maybe." He laughs. Patting your back.

Tony was about to let go before you wrapped your arms around him. It's the first time in a long time. His eyes widened for a second before settling back against you. "You okay. . ?"

"Yeah." You nod against his chest. Still sniffling.

"Oh, great. Wipe your snot on my shirt. That's perfect." He said sarcastically, which made you laugh a little bit. He could only smirk. Mission accomplished. "You know what? Suit can wait till tomorrow. Go wash your face and meet me upstairs. We're getting shawarma." He kissed your forehead.

"Okay, dad. . Can we just. . Get it to go?" You ask.

He raised an eyebrow. "Why's that?"

"I know a place."

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄

And there you two were. Perched on a rooftop, eating shawarma.

"That's the stuff." Tony mumbled. "You like yours?"

You could only nod since your mouth was full.

"Good. What'd you get to drink? What's that, Pepsi?" He asked.

"Yeah." You responded after swallowing your food. "You like it here?"

He looked down at the city below them. "Not my first time eating on a rooftop." He looked back at you, grinning. "Won't be my last." He said as he nudged you. "You cold?"

"Nope."

"Alright."

You sat there for a moment in comfortable silence, with the occasional rustle of the food wrap and the quiet slurp of Tony drinking his lemonade.

He suddenly spoke. "We should do this more often, you know."

Your eyes were still focused on the city. Nodding. "Yeah. You're fun."

"About time you noticed." He teased.

"Shut up, old man."

"I'll have you know, everywhere I go, people think I'm at least 25." He grins.

You rolled your eyes at that. "Right, right. 25 centuries." You joke.

He gasps, putting a hand over his chest. "You wound me, kid."

You burst out laughing. "Dude! You're so dramatic for no reason."

"What, I used to be a theatre kid."

"No, you weren't."

"No, I wasn't." He started laughing with you. Putting his arm around you and kissing your head for what seemed like the tenth time that day. "You're a good kid. Keep being good." He ruffled your hair gently.

"I love you 3000."

You were sitting outside on the street. Playing around with your shoelaces while waiting for your friends to come as promised. Sighing to yourself for the tenth time, probably. It wasn't the first time they ditched you. It happened a lot. You'd wait for hours, and they won't even bother. Yet, they always pretend to like you at school, but you've noticed it. How they asked for your hobbies and interests and laughed harder each time you spoke a word. Not in an encouraging way, more like a mocking way. You'd listen to them and nod along to their gossip about boys and other people in your school while wondering if they even liked you.

"Hey. Anybody home in there?" Your thoughts were interrupted by someone lightly tapping your head. You looked up to see Mike. Mike Harper. Not a popular kid in your school, but people did know him. Mostly for his ring fights and how many times he got in trouble at school with teachers and students.

"You spaced out there." He grunted slightly.

"Oh. . Mike. I'm sorry, I didn't see you there. I was. . Thinking." You apologised. A flush coming up on your cheeks as you realised how deep in thought you probably were.

Mike could only tilt his head a bit. Nodding. "Yeah, I get it. Sometimes, it just doesn't stop. The thoughts, I mean. Not unless ya get it out."

"I'm not a boxer, Mike." You scoff at him.

"Didn't say that, girlie. Stop wastin' your time like this on the street. They ain't comin'. Whoever you're waitin' for."

His words hit you hard. No one has ever been so bold with you like that. He was just being honest, it was very true. Nobody was coming.

"Let's not put the hairstyle to waste." He points at your hair. "Come with me. I know a place. Sunset's in a few minutes. We can get a good look up there." He extended his hand out for you. You, of course, took it and dusted yourself off. Following him to wherever he was going.

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After climbing a bunch of fire escapes and reaching the rooftop of some apartment building, Mike sat down and dangled one foot off the edge while the other went against his chest. You quickly sit down next to him.

"Mind if I smoke?" He asks. Already pulling out a pack of cigarettes. But he wasn't gonna take one out if it made you uncomfortable.

"Not at all, just blow the other way." You chuckle awkwardly. His lips formed into a small crooked grin at your chuckle. Finding you cute. He would respect your wishes.

"Take it ya don't smoke." He mumbles. Lighting up his cigarette and blowing the other way as promised.

"Just never really got into that." You shrug.

"Yeah, I get it. No need to explain yourself. This stuff can be dangerous if ya know what I mean." He chuckled. "I saw you at my fight."

You perk up at the mention of his boxing match a week ago. Your 'friends' pestered you to go, and you did. You watched Mike win by beating another dude's ass.

"Yeah. I was there. You did. . Good."

He grins. "Good? I'm lookin' for outstanding. I should try better next time."

"You can do more than what you did last week?"

"You don't even know how much more I can do, pretty. . I was chill last week." He laughed.

"That didn't look very chill." You smile a little.

"Trust me, it was." He insisted. Crushing the cigarette with his thumb. "I know a lot more than that."

You snicker. "Really? Who taught you all these moves? Was it a mentor? Your father?"

Mike's smile slightly fades. Replaced by a solemn expression as he took a deep breath and looked up at the sky.

"My dad's dead."

You blinked. Your own smile fading. "Oh. . I'm so, so sorry, I didn't know. . I shouldn't have said that."

He nodded. "It's alright. You didn't mean it in a bad way. To answer your question, my uncle taught me those moves. He said I had muscles and that I had to put em to use. So, I did." He smiled softly.

Your smile also returned. "Well, I'm happy for you. . I'm. . I'm sorry about your dad. Again."

He waved you off. "It's fine, it happened a few years ago. Seriously, relax. It's okay." He cleared his throat. "Sun's setting." He pointed at the sky.

Your eyes followed his finger. Admiring the sky as it was painted in pink hues with fluffy looking clouds.

"Don't clouds sometimes remind you of cotton candy?" You ask. Before realising how childish your question may have sounded, laughing it off. "Sorry, that was weird."

He shook his head. "Nah. Wasn't weird. It's a good question. They do kinda remind me of cotton candy. But they don't taste like it."

"You've tasted clouds before?"

He grinned. "I'm a man of many secrets."

His words made you laugh. Your eyes crinkling in a way that meant you were truly happy. "Okay, cloud-eating guy. ." You gently nudge his arm.

You just sighed contentedly and looked at the sunset. Not taking your eyes off it. How could you? It was just. . Straight out of a mural or something.

"Isn't it so beautiful?" You ask Mike without averting your gaze. Mike looked at the sunset for a second longer.

"Yeah." He turned his gaze towards you. "So damn beautiful."

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SHUT UP OMG I LOVE HIM

♡♡♡

You're David's whole world. Ever since he met you, his world turned from grey blues to warm sunset yellows. His heart thumped in war, but it thumped harder whenever he saw you. His eyes would light up like a Christmas tree.

He'd take you on trips to his home in Alaska and warmed you up with the same gloves his father used to warm his mother up. Kissing you under the stars, in the cold. And he promised you a happy life.

He started looking for rings that would make you pop. Nothing too extravagant, just enough for people to see that he truly loves you with his choice of ring. He kept it in his pocket for weeks, waiting for the right moment. There were times when he was considering just proposing right then and there. But shied away 'like a coward'.

That was until one evening, he drove you to a field of sunflowers. Admiring the big petals as he fiddled with the ring box in his pocket.

"Oh, it's so beautiful, Dave. . Why'd you take us here, though?" You ask with an eyebrow raised while poking a sunflower in front of you. "Ah, just keep walking." David had a soft grin plastered on his pinkish lips. Urging you to go forward with a gentle nudge of his calloused hand on your back.

"I'm going, I'm going! Geez!" You giggle. "Where am I supposed to go anyway?" . . .

"Dave?" You turned around and saw him kneeling down. His eyes gazed up at you like you were his guardian angel. Like you were a cold water bottle in the Sahara or something.

"Darling. . When I first met you, my whole life changed. I started seeing everything differently, I had a reason to fight and come home in one piece. . To have someone to protect, to love, to care for. Your skin is the softest thing I've felt since the white blankets that cover the green grass, and your eyes are like portals to paradise. . My love. I'd like to wake up to your face. To your smile greeting me first thing in the morning. And I'd like to finish my day off with your lips against mine. . Dear, will you make me the happiest man on the living earth and become my future Mrs. Mason?"

. .

Speechless was the only word that described you right now. Wide eyes, lips slightly parted. You couldn't move, could barely breathe. The only thing you could do was just say. .

"Yes! Yes, yes, I'll marry you!" And jumped right into his strong arms. His face nuzzled the space that met your neck and shoulder. Leaning up to kiss your cheek.

"Gah, I'm so happy. . You don't even know." He laughed. "Gimme your finger, dove." He slid the diamond ring onto your finger. Kissing your knuckles repeatedly.

"I love you so much, you know that?"

"I love you too, Dave. So, so much. ."