#yn stark

The lounge in the tower smelled of fresh linen and strawberry frosting (definitely from Pop-Tarts), because God forbid Thor eat anything else. I was sprawled across the leather couch as if I owned the place, which I technically did, legs stretched up on the glass coffee table, scrolling through my feed. 

The thick steps of leather dress shoes against marble broke through my haze. Then, I heard fabric, a tie specifically, being adjusted for the third time.

“Are you planning to lie there all evening?” A voice came through. 

For a second, I didn’t even look up. I rolled my eyes and shut off my phone, placing it on top of a plush pillow. I pushed myself up from my comfortable position and dragged my feet to my father’s side. 

“Where are you going, looking like that?” I eyed his suit, pressed to near perfection.

”I didn’t tell you? Swore I did.”

”No, you did not.” I flatly said, crossing my arms. “Definitely did not.”

Dad smoothed his blazer and offered his arm to pull me in a hug. I faceplanted into his breast pocket, squishing my cheek against it. I took in the familiar clean scent. It was somehow expensive, but just him.

“I’m going out on a date,” he proudly announced.

I pulled back and lifted my face to give him a puzzled look. “With who?”

“You’ll know soon.”

“Ah, secretive as always.” I stepped back to look over him again. “Well, I’d suggest putting on some cologne if you wish for her to stay for dessert.”

“And that,” he said, pointing at me as he started to walk towards his room, “is exactly why I came to you, my smartest daughter.”

I rolled my eyes at his corny joke. “Only daughter,” I corrected.

I turned my heel and headed towards his room. The lights were extra bright today for some reason (or the fact that I was still mildly hungover from last night).

“Dad, kill the lights, would you?” I rubbed my eyes with my forearm. 

He stopped in his tracks mid-step and turned around, facepalm as clear as day. He flipped a couple of switches, the bulbs now dimming. “Of course. Can’t have my princess going blind, can I?”

I chuckled at his facetious remark before following him once more. “Nope, I’m already expensive enough to maintain.”

“I was thinking Dior, but I wear it too often.” He mumbled, rubbing his chin in thought.

“Yeah, but that attracts more men than women, Dad.”

Dad gave me a stifled laugh as I reached for a bottle in the back of the rack. “How about Viktor & Rolf?”

I gave a spritz on my wrist and wafted it towards me. My sense of smell was analyzing it carefully before I ordered, “Hold still.”

“You’re quite bossy today.”

“And you’d be lost without me.” 

No snarky remark came from him this time, because he knew it was true.

“You’re all ready. I will be very disappointed  if I see you again tonight.” I smirked to myself. 

“Now, why’s that?”

“Because that means she didn’t like you enough.”

Before Dad could respond, I was already halfway through the door. 

 ⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔ 

“And you’re sure you’ll be alright? No need for a nanny?”

I was back in the same position I was before I was called for my olfactory sense. “I have five nannies right here in this tower. Go. Get turnt.”

He approached me on the couch anyway and kissed me on my forehead before saying, “Dinner is in the fridge, or ask Clint. Or order some crazy takeout. See you, honey.”

“Bye, Dad.”

As I heard the elevator ding, I nearly flew to my room. I shut the door gently and clicked the lock shut before calling my two best friends, Kate and Valeria. 

“Y/n! Is your dad around?” Kate asked, curling her thick hair.

“No, actually, he just left for a date,” I said, pulling out my drawers filled with makeup. “Are you guys ready?”

“Yep, almost!” Val said. “Hold on, your dad is getting back out there?”

“I guess so?” I shrugged, setting my phone down before beginning to blend. “Took him long enough.”

“You're not mad?” Kate asked, a brow raised.

“Not really,” I had honestly said. “He had to move on eventually; it’s been almost 18 years.”

My mother was never present, mainly because my dad didn’t allow it. He said she wasn’t ready for a child, not even mentioning a healthy family. He chose me, though, and I thank him for it silently every day.

“I get it. Are you changing right now? Both Kate and I are nearly ready.” 

“Yeah. What are you guys wearing?”

“Mini skirt and a tank,” Val said, bronzing her face one last time.

“The dress from the boutique we went to last time.” 

“Alright, I’ll be dressed in 10.  Meet you guys at the bodega.”

“Bye!” They both squealed. 

I quickly slipped into the tiniest miniskirt I bought when I was with Nat and into a top that Val gifted me a couple of months ago before zipping up my knee-high boots.

I opened the door as quietly as I possibly could, peaking out to see if any of the Avengers were sneaking around. 

Sneaking out of the tower wasn’t that hard, but it definitely was a pain in the arse. 

Once I saw it was clear, I sneaked to the elevator, pressing the bottom floor. When I arrived at the bottom, I went to the back door and slipped out. I’m sure all of Dad’s employees were home by now.

I walked with haste to the bodega two blocks down from the tower, the usual spot where I met up with the girls. 

I turned the corner and saw two familiar figures, dressed appropriately for the club. 

I ran up to them and gave them a tight hug, happy to see them without the sick school air. 

“You both look hot!” I complimented, smiling at the two. 

“Look at you! Come on,” Kate said. 

As we got in line for the club, it moved progressively. The bouncer let us in almost immediately, too worried about stopping the two guys behind us who were not ready to call it a night just yet.

We already felt the bass in our hearts and stomachs, bumping just as heavy as the A-listers and nepo babies were on something else. 

“Drinks are on me,” I said, pulling out my phone immediately. “Daddy transferred money into my account yesterday.”

“I love your dad,” Kate thanked.

“Thanks, love!” Val said, already beaming. 

“I know. Everyone does.”

 ⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔ 

After a couple of drinks, lots of dancing, and a couple of guys hitting on us, we decided it was time to take some photos on Kate’s digital camera.

“The balcony is outside,” Kate said. “I’ll ask someone to take some of all three of us.”

As we walked, or more so stumbled, to the balcony, the music got a bit softer. The crisp air of New York gave a slight chill to my smooth legs and volume to my hair. 

Kate, Val, and I looked amongst the people around the balcony. Most were older adults, people too incapacitated to even hold the camera, or who wouldn’t even look twice at us.

However, I saw two boys who looked our age. One had tan skin and a dorky middle part. The other was a pasty brunette, who sorta looked familiar. They were both sitting at one of the few tables on the balcony.

As Val and Kate were still looking around, I tapped them both, giving a nod in the direction of the two boys. 

“Don’t they go to our school?”

“How’d they get in here without fakes?” Val genuinely asked, her lip quirked in confusion.

“Not a clue, but I’m gonna ask.”

I propped myself off the railing and made my way to the two; both looked very deep in whatever they were conversing about. 

The one with the awful haircut looked up at me first, in near disbelief that I was in front of him. 

“Hi.”

‘H-Hello,” he said. “Hi, Y/n.”

“Hi uh.. Remind me of your name again, please?” 

In truth, I did not remember either of their names, and I felt really bad about it, truly. I saw them in the halls sometimes with some people from my math class. However, they just weren’t the usual crowd I hung out with. 

“Really?” He sighed. “I’m Ned, and this is Peter.”

I looked at the other boy, and he gave a tight-lipped smile and a short wave.

“Ned, Peter,” I repeated their names. “Would either of you two be a doll and take a photo of my friends and me?”

Ned looked at Peter, then back at me. “Peter got it!” He volunteered his friend.

“What?” Peter squealed. 

“Yeah!” he doubled down. Ned turned to me then said, “Peter takes AP Photography, so he’s very good at this stuff.”

Pasty Peter now turned into a warm shade of red from his friend’s boasting. “I’ll try my best.”

“Yay! Thanks, Peter.”

As Peter rose, he shot Ned a grumpy face before he turned it into a smile at me. 

He trailed behind me before I told my friends, “This is Peter. Peter, this is Kate and Val,” I pointed to the girls respectively. “He’s in AP Photo, so our photos will be great.”

“We are really overestimating my photography abilities here,” Peter chuckled. 

“Just don’t break the camera, yeah?” Kate said as she tossed him the small purple digital. 

The girls and I got together and posed as shutters emerge from the tiny thing. 

Once he was finished, he went through the history to ensure all wasn't blurry. 

Before he could give the camera back, I ran behind him and nudged my head in the crook of his neck to look over his shoulder. “Look good?”

He stiffened up, and I acted as if I didn’t know what I was doing.

“Great. Here you go, Kate.” Peter said as he made his way back to Ned.

Kate grabbed the digital and started examining every pixel with Val, as I told them, “Be right back!”

I caught up with Peter and pulled his arm gently enough to get his attention. 

“Hi again!” I gleamed, curious about the boy.

“Hey, did you need more pictures?”

“No, I was actually wondering if you’d dance with me,” I quipped boldly. 

“M-Me?” Peter asked in doubt.

“Yes, you. Come on,” 

I dragged him back inside to the main deck, the bass and beats pumping back into my system. 

I yelled, “Have you drunk anything yet?” 

“No, I don’t drink!” He replied nervously.

“Then why are you at a club?”

“Ned dragged me here!”

“Oh well!” I shrugged, dancing to the set. 

“Do you know who that is?” I pointed to the DJ booth. 

“Uh, no, do you?”

“Yep, that’s Charli. Quite famous, actually. Get a picture of me with her?”

“O-okay!” he yelped as I dragged him towards the elevated booth.

“I don’t have your friend’s camera, though.”

“Use your phone!”

I tapped on the artist’s shoulder before she turned and smiled, already posing for the photo. Once I thanked her, I kept moving to the beat she made on the spot. 

 ⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔ 

After a bit of dancing and Peter trying to keep up, my body was feeling the impact. I wrapped my arm around Peter’s shoulder, feeling him shiver from my touch. “Hey, can you send me that photo? I think I’m going to call it a night.”

“Yeah, just uh.. I don’t have your number.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry! It's..” 

As I read the phone number out, I searched around for my friends.

I saw familiar purple and blue couture before I waved my free arm up, signalling them over. 

“I’m ready to head out. You guys coming?” I asked, still wrapped around Peter. 

“Yep, I’ve already called an Uber,” Val said. “They’ll be here in four.”

“Peter, what about you?” 

“Ned and I are fine, just get home safe. Please,” His tone was soft and genuine. 

“We’ll be good. See you at school?”

I then held Val’s arm, walking out.

“Yeah, see you at school.” He finally answered. 

 ⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔ 

When the Uber came, we all quickly hopped in, the cold air biting worse than before. 

“Hurry, come on!” Kate tugged me in. 

I was giggling from the adrenaline, as was Kate, and Val was already buckled and four seconds away from emptying half the tab on the leather console. 

Once the driver saw all three of us in, she started driving us back home. 

I was the last to be dropped off, thankful that I saw the other two make it home safe. Hopefully, Franklin let Val in. Kate probably went in through the window. 

I thanked the driver before getting out, going in through the same door I came out from. I took the elevator to the main floor before rushing up the stairs, just in case. I saw the package that I left on the counter was still there, so I knew Dad wasn’t home. 

I slipped into my room as silently as I could, locking the door and immediately falling backwards on my bed. I felt my clothes clinging to me, bound by sweat. I unzipped my skirt and let it fall to the floor, tossing it in my hamper to worry about later. Just as I was about to lift my tank off, my phone buzzed. 

An unsaved number had sent me an image. Peter, of course.

“Here’s the picture. I think she asked you to send it to her, too.”

“Thanks, Peter! Will do.” 

I sent the photo to Charli before heading to the bathroom to finish my nightly routine.

 ⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔ 

My blinds were doing a poor job of what they were made to do, the amber sun glossing over my large room. I gave up on trying to get more rest, pushing myself up to get ready for the day. 

I grabbed a hoodie from my ottoman and struggled to get it on, my eyes still adjusting to the brightness. 

I made my way to the kitchen, still yawning. There sat my Dad, Nat, and Steve. 

Nat and Steve looked at the ground, avoiding eye contact with me. My father, however, looked straight at me, arms crossed. 

“Good morning,” I greeted as I reached for a muffin on the counter. 

“Anything to tell me?”

“No, why?” I asked, mouth full of blueberry and brown sugar. 

Dad slid me his phone, his eyes still on me. 

I hesitantly reached for the phone, still chewing on the warm pastry.

When I fully analyzed the photos and headline, I nearly choked. 

───────────────────────

E! News - 7h ago

“Nepo Baby Y/n Stark found at New York City’s biggest bar with friends and DJ Charli XCX - Father Tony Stark is nowhere to be found?”

E! News Last night, Yn Stark, 18, was seen at a club, partying with her fellow A-listers and nepo baby friends. Although pictured with few, some familiar faces like Charli XCX, Kate Bishop, and Valeria Richards were seen with the teen. Many are asking where the girl's billionaire father is.

user0 her dad couldn't rent out the club for her?

user1 shes litch just a girl btw

user2 ok but look at her, val, and kate's outfits

user3 irresponsible, just like their parents!

user4 looks the fantastic 4 4got their kid again lol

user5 charli xcx sneak

user6 why are we acting like they just slaughtered a family of 5 LMFAOO

───────────────────────

“See anything wrong?”

I swallowed, “Yeah! They called me a nepo baby. I have a personality. That should count for something–”

“Y/n. What were you thinking? You got the paparazzi and news thinking I can’t take care of a teenager?”

“Dad, it is not my fault they don’t allow anyone under 21 at bars.”

My dad looked at Steve and Natasha, waiting for them to chime in. 

“Well,” Steve started. “It is pretty serious, N/n. You’re lucky you're not in trouble with the law for the drinking.”

I sighed, dropping my attitude a tad. “Okay, fine, maybe I went out.”

Dad only pinched the bridge of his nose harder, “And don’t even bother saving Kate or Valeria. I’ve already notified Reed, Sue, and Eleanor.”

“Dad! Seriously? Why bring them into it?” I whined, more upset that my friends are going down with me.

Nat finally spoke, “You three were being irresponsible.”

“I don’t see the major issue. We didn’t drink and drive, we didn’t go home with any randoms, and we were back before sunrise.”

“You not seeing the larger issue has me a little concerned,” Steve remarked.

“Deeply concerned.” Dad corrected Steve. “You’re grounded, young lady.”

“What would you like me to do now, hm? Because I can’t turn back time. And I know you won’t lock me in this damn tower.” I snapped.

“That’s another week without an allowance. And on top of that, you’re not doing anything for the long weekend.”

“Come on, Tony,” Steve tries to reason. “What’s she going to do for five days?”

“You gotta be a little fair, Stark,” Nat said as she ran her hand through her hair. 

“Alright, Alright. I have a better punishment.”

I raised my eyebrows, already imagining what Dad was gonna do. No shopping trips for the month? No Cabo during spring break? Oh no, what about making me help him find a different date?

“You’re coming with me to Japan.”

“Really? Oh my gosh, can we-”

“..For a business convention.”

“I’d rather stay locked in the tower.”

“You can’t be kidding!” Dad laughs out of shock. “You don’t even have to be with me the entire time. It’d be nice to show your face in public with me sometimes, y’know. Make the people know I’m not just the best businessman in the entire world, but also a father,” he shrugged with a smirk. 

I groaned dramatically, taking my muffin back to my room, but not without dragging out my groan. 

“Better get started packing, young lady!”

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔ 

No one’s surprised that one of Tony’s several flings ended up in a mini-Tony. In fact, there might’ve been bets made on when the Merchant of Death’s hubris bell would finally ring. What shocked everyone was that he seemed to be a decent father. If you ignore the fact that he had no idea you even existed until 2005, when your mother showed up with you in tow.

You vividly remember the panic in his eyes when he saw you for the first time. If oh, God was a facial expression, he was definitely making it.

“Is she–”

“Yours, yes,” your mother had replied before he could even ask. “And I know it’s been a long time, but you both deserved to know about each other.”

“Uh-huh,” he’d mumbled, gawking at you like he still didn’t believe you were real. You were unbelievably intimidated. Tony Stark, who you had seen all over TV and billboards and news stations was now standing a few feet away from you, dumbfounded.

“She deserves a father, Tony.”

His eyes finally snapped back to your mother. “And I’m the best candidate for that? ‘Cuz if I’m the best you’ve got, we have other issues to address.”

Your mother rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, you’re not. But I was hoping that seeing her would be enough to knock you out of this–” she motioned vaguely toward all the lavish materials in the vicinity– “childish lifestyle.”

Tony seemed briefly offended before turning his attention back to you with a softer attitude. He knelt down to be at your height and began to speak.

“I’m so sorry, where are my manners?” He held a hand out toward you. “Tony. Pleasure to meet you.”

With your mother’s nod of approval, you stepped forward and introduced yourself. He flashed you a paparazzi grin. “You know, I would be so glad for you and I to get to know each other.” You pretended not to notice the sideways glance he gave your mother before clasping your hand in his and giving you the tour.

You hoped you would like Tony. You'd had so many dreams of what your dad would be like, and while “billionaire” wasn’t in those fantasies, it seemed like a hell of an upgrade.

He wasn’t absent after you met, that’s for sure. He always showed up and made sure to keep up with the joint custody arrangement. But he wasn’t the greatest either. He still drank. And partied. And had hookups. Because of course he did. Why would he pump the brakes on this lifestyle when it suited him so well? Unfortunately, you were just old enough to not be gullible. You knew when he had been drinking because he spoke more absurdly than normal. You knew when he'd had a hookup the night before; for one, because he would hide out in his workshop until mid-afternoon, and well, occasionally you would run into a random woman when you came downstairs for breakfast.

The first time that happened was a bit of a rude awakening. You had skipped down the steps, about to open your mouth to greet JARVIS when you spotted a strange blonde at the kitchen counter.

She instantly sneered at the sight of you. “Who are you?” she’d asked with a vocal fry reminiscent of someone from the Valley.

“I was taught not to talk to strangers, ma’am,” you’d replied, slowly backing toward the stairs. Luckily, Miss Potts was always there to rescue you from the awkward encounters and escort the ladies out. You liked her a lot– you decided that very early. She kept an eye on you when Tony was… otherwise occupied.

There were good times with Tony, though. He invited you down to the garage to see his projects, and you could just sit and converse while he worked. He even let you help if the task was safe and simple enough. And of course, being the spawn of a billionaire means having luxury materials. You got to decorate your room with all the best things a child could wish for, and you had the best toys out of everyone in your class. Tony always questioned why you always drew the line at fancy clothes– if everything else you had was nice, why stop there? But he didn’t realize that you simply didn’t wanna stick out any more than you already did amongst the other kids. And you kinda liked staying grounded, it made you feel more like your mother, who was never one for the finer things.

It was a decent three years, you had to agree. You loved your father , despite his obvious faults. And you were roughly 85% sure he loved you. He tucked you in on the nights you stayed with him, took you to fantastic vacation spots with your mother’s permission, and managed to make sure you were safe and cared for.

Then Afghanistan happened. You were up early with him that morning. On the showcases you couldn’t travel with him to, he invested a couple of extra hours into you beforehand so you might not miss him as much. You gave him a big hug goodbye and greeted Happy as he loaded Tony’s things into his car. Pepper held your hand as both cars drove off. How could you have known that the next time you would see him would be on TV, dazed and horribly injured?

“Pepper?!” you had been flipping through channels and stumbled across a news station that showed a clip of a group of masked men standing around your father menacingly. One had a really big gun pointed at Tony’s neck and another stood on the other side of him, reading out what you could only assume was a ransom note. Your father had blood running down the side of his face and more seeping through layers of bandages that were wrapped around his torso.

Pepper gasped as she saw the screen and turned you away from it, holding you tightly but you had already seen everything. You sobbed into her dress. “Are they going to hurt him?” you asked.

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Pepper admitted quietly. “I don’t know.”

You went back home with your mother and stayed there for the next three months. Word had reached the press of your relation to Tony which created the fear that you might be next. You cried yourself to sleep every single night. It wasn’t fair. You were finally getting to know the guy. Why did you have to lose your father when you had only just gotten him?

Finally, 90 days later, you saw your father on TV again. He was alive and well and back in the States. Your mother seemed to relax a little bit.

“Can we go see him?” you begged, quite literally pulling your mother’s leg. “Please, please, please, please, plea–”

“Honey, let’s give him a few days to get himself back home and settled in, yeah?” She pulled you onto the couch with her and rubbed circles into your arm. You were disappointed, but you could wait.

When your mother drove you over, you sprinted up towards the door before she had even unbuckled her seatbelt. “Dad! Dad! JARVIS, where’s my dad?”

“Downstairs, Miss,” JARVIS’ prim voice sounded above you. “I will let him know you are here.”

You rocked back forth on your heels as your mother walked up the steps into the house. You were just bursting at the seams, ready to jump into your father’s arms again.

You heard quick steps coming up the workshop stairs. “Is that my little lovebug waiting for me up here?” And then, there he was. Tired, clearly damaged and recovering, but he opened his arms to you anyway.

You nearly tackled him. “Dad, I missed you so much! I was so scared you weren’t coming home.” You clung to him like a much younger child and he let you. He knew the grief of losing a parent well.

“I missed you too, kid,” he replied, holding on with equal fervor. “And I’m so sorry I missed your birthday. I had a whole plan for it but, you know, I had a…” he put you down and ruffled your hair. “Prior engagement.”

“That’s okay,” You giggled.

“No, no, you deserved something nice. Instead you probably had to spend the day worried about me. I’ll tell you what, though. Since I got back, I’ve been working on making it up to you.” You were half-listening, suddenly more interested in the faint glow from under his shirt.

“Dad, what’s that?” You pointed at his chest.

He looked down at himself, like he forgot it had been there. “Oh, that’s just a little contraption I made. It’s nothing.”

You would later find out that it was far from nothing, but that was Tony. So many walls to protect those he cares for, which included you, you supposed.

That supposition became all the more plausible only two years later. Tony had started acting… oddly. Even for him. He was getting reckless. You, Pepper, and Rhodey dealt with it as best you could but you were all getting to the end of your ropes. Then there was the Whiplash introduction on the racetrack. You went to his workshop the next evening to quietly investigate. Whiplash? Partially, but your priority was figuring out what the hell was wrong with your father.

When you entered, he was sitting in the old car he kept down there. In front of him were several holographic displays, all information about a certain Ivan Vanko who upon stepping closer you realized was the man you had seen on the racetrack. JARVIS was reading off the information and you listened quietly for a moment, waiting for Tony to realize you were there. But he didn’t. He was too absorbed in this guy. Which made sense, of course. He had just gotten done telling the government that something like this wouldn't exist for another two decades and here it was, very much existing.

“Hey, Dad,” you said, walking toward the car. He didn’t answer at first. You wondered if he hadn’t heard you or if he was ignoring you. “Dad?” He still hadn’t looked at you. It made your chest hurt.

Rhodey walked in then, informing Tony of the expectant government officials. He spared you a sympathetic glance, which you returned, and he walked up to Tony himself. “Are you listening to me?” Tony looked at him then and the look on his face was one you’d never seen. He looked so lost and melancholy. “You okay?” Rhodey asked, gentler.

Tony didn’t answer, instead patting him on the arm and sliding out of the car. When he stood, he took a single step before his legs seemed to give out. “Dad!” you cried, rushing toward him.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly as Rhodey pulled him to his feet. “I just need to get to my desk.”

At his desk, Rhodey opened a box and pulled out a small silver rectangular. Tony held up his arc reactor and something ejected out of the center of it, bringing a small puff of smoke with it. “It’s not meant to be smoking is it?” you asked quietly.

Dear God, why is no one answering me, you thought as Tony replaced the burnt chunk with the silver one and placed the reactor back into his chest without a word. “Daddy, what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing I can’t figure out, bug,” he said, looking you in the eyes for the first time since you walked in. “Contrary to popular belief, I do know what I’m doing.”

Nothing, he had said then. You would again later find out that the smoking thing was actively killing him. Nothing, he had said when he returned from being kidnapped and almost killed halfway across the world. Great. You were sensing a pattern with your father.

Typically, people say three times the charm, but in your case it felt like a personal hell in which the universe was continuously trying to take your father from you.

Another two years passed, and aliens were invading New York through a wormhole above the city. How fun! You were staying with your mother for that fortnight and she lived far enough away from the wormhole that you weren’t in any immediate danger. It didn’t ease your nerves any when you saw a familiar red and gold suit flying through the air on television.

“Mom?” you called weakly, slumping on the floor at the foot of your bed. “He’s gonna be okay, right?”

She came to you, pulling you into her side. “Of course, lovey. Your dad’s a smart man. He knows better than to get himself killed.”

That seemed to help for the moment, but as you kept watching the TV, you watched Tony fly into the wormhole. “No!” you cried, rushing to your window to see if you could see what was happening. “Daddy! No, please!”

From your bedroom window, you watched the wormhole close and your father just barely made it out, barrelling toward the ground. His suit seemed to have shut down. You began to freak out, calling for your mother. She held you as you looked on with bated breath. “It’ll be okay. I’m sure they have the supplies to catch him safely.”

“I can’t just sit here and wait to find that out! Mom, I need to see him. Right now, I need to know if he’s alive.”

“Lovey, if we just–”

You held onto her that much tighter, desperate. “Mom, please!”

She seemed to understand then just how much your father had come to mean to you in the last few years. She agreed and drove you to Stark Tower. Which took entirely too long. Between the first responders giving care throughout Manhattan to all the authorities surrounding the Tower itself, it was another few hours before you would see your father. You managed to sneak in between two guards and make your way to the lobby, where you saw him. He was speaking to some official, a briefcase in his hand. Beside him was a really big guy who looked like he had come from a Ren Faire somewhere, but you didn’t care much about that. “Dad!”

Tony’s head snapped toward you. You sped toward him and he stepped away from the official and the other guy to meet you halfway. “Wha- how did you get here, bug? You’re supposed to be with your mom.” He pulled you into him despite his baffledness.

“I was, but I begged her to bring me,” You buried your face in his chest. “I saw you fall out of the sky. Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay.”

“Yeah, of course I’m okay,” He laughed, rubbing your back. “I’m here, aren’t I? Wait a minute. You came all the way over just to check on me?” You nodded and he softened. He lifted your chin to look at him. “Lovebug, you didn’t have to do that. I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“Given the last couple of years, can you really blame me?” You didn’t mean for it to sound as bitter as it did. Your father was a hero, you couldn’t be angry at him for that. But it pained you to think that saving the world could take your father from you.

He seemed to reach the same thought as you because he mumbled an apology as he pulled you in a second time.

You thought that would be the end of it. Well, not exactly. You knew that threats would still come. Your father wouldn’t stop being a hero, less so now that he was on a team. But you thought your worries would pass. Maybe being on a team meant he had better chances of making it through each next fight. Maybe being on a team meant you didn’t have to try and look out for him.

Your brain had other plans, though. Cruel, cruel plans indeed. It wasn’t long after New York that the nightmares started. Almost every night, terrifying visions of Tony being blown up or ripped to shreds or sucked into space flashed through your mind and you always woke up screaming, much to the concern of both your parents. It didn’t help that you refused to tell them what was plaguing your dreams.

The final nail in the coffin was when you started having anxiety attacks, seemingly out of nowhere. They seemed random to your parents, but you knew the truth. You started to let your mind wander. And when it did that, it always strayed in the direction of New York, or Afghanistan. You let yourself spiral into all the details of those horrible events until it felt like your chest was collapsing in on itself. A time or two, you stressed yourself out so badly that you passed out. Not a good day for Tony, he nearly had an anxiety attack of his own.

After about six months of this, Tony put his foot down and sat down with you and your mother.

“We have to do something about this, lovebug,” he pleaded, placing his hand over yours across the table. “You’re clearly suffering, and even if you don’t want to tell us about it, we want to help you out of this.”

Your mother looked at you with so much concern it made you want to cry right then and there. “We want you to get better, lovey. But we have to start somewhere. And the only way out is with some help.”

With enough pushing, you relented. Mostly because it hurt you to see how much your parents were hurting because of you. You agreed to see a therapist. Tony, being Tony, found you the best in the business. Twice a week for the first few months. You didn’t make any progress at first. How could you just walk into a room and start venting to a stranger? It took several sessions over the course of a few months to get comfortable with the therapist. Nothing against her, of course, she was quite kind.

A few more months pass and you manage to get into a good rhythm with your therapist. You’ve managed to talk everything through and she’s seemed to understand you. Eventually, she prescribed you medication to curb your anxiety.

After some trial and error, you started to get to a decent place. You were sleeping better, and the anxiety attacks had become a rarity. You had even brought your therapy appointments down to being to bi-weekly. You naively thought that all the treatments had fixed you. Because of course you did. How were you supposed to know that these things never really went away?

Sure, every once in a while you would have a flashback to Tony and the wormhole, or when he almost died of palladium poisoning and didn’t tell you. And every once in a while, Tony noticed.

You were standing by the coffee machine one morning when it randomly hit. It felt like you were sucked back in time and placed into your 13-year-old body. In a split second, you saw Tony collapsing in front of you with a pained grunt. Your stomach sank. You flinched away from the memory, so harshly that you were knocked back into present yourself, gripping the counter for balance.

Tony looked up from his coffee then, his brows furrowed. “You alright there, bug?”

You regained composure, coughing to clear your throat. “Yep!” you replied, maybe a little too cheerful. “All good, Dad.”

He squinted at you, like he was waiting for you to crack and be honest. But you didn’t. You didn’t really think anything of the occurrence since you were doing so much better. Maybe you were in denial. Maybe you could feel yourself spiraling downhill again but buried it for your parents’ sake. Which would make sense. You had seen the looks on their faces when you struggled the first time. You couldn’t put them through that again. But you weren’t. Because you were fine. Right?

Your psyche really got put to the test after Steve and Tony fell out. Tony seemed to fold in on himself at the loss of his friend. You felt bad for him. You knew he was sad, but he showed it in the way Starks always did; throwing himself into his work. He also seemed pretty occupied with that new intern he’d recently acquired.

Was he staying away on purpose? Was he trying to protect you? Whatever from? Was he dying again? Was there some impending threat that he was refusing to tell anyone about? The questions started to keep you up at night, and the creeping thoughts invaded your mind in a way you thought had been cut off for good.

It didn’t help that you were starting to forget to take your medication. Not on purpose, of course. You kept telling yourself you would take it by a certain time, but the hours bled into each other until you weren’t sure if you had taken in last night or last week.

And you couldn’t go to Tony for help. The notion was entirely out of the question. Intentionally or not, you felt far from your father. Even more so now that you were staying with him more often. You couldn’t remember the last time you two had spoken with more than 10 words in total. How awful would you be if you burst into his workshop just to tell him that you were worried about him? How silly. You put that thought away.

Pepper was checking in, though. And you were grateful for it. She noticed you pulling back from socializing all together and put a few feelers out to see how you were doing.

One evening, she knocked on your bedroom door while you were working on a school project. “Hey, sweetheart. I was just about to bust open a tub of ice cream. You want some?”

You smiled over your shoulder at her. “Not right now, I wanna finish this up. Thank you, though. Leave me a bowl in the freezer?”

She nodded, hesitating with her hand on the doorknob. “Don’t overwork yourself, okay?”

“Uh-huh,” you’d mumbled in reply, already zoned back in on your work.

If only you could’ve seen the look on Pepper’s face. She was seeing your father in you. Almost comedically so considering she had a near identical interaction with Tony a few hours earlier.

Tony was busying himself with making a new suit in his workshop. His most recent Mark had been damaged by Steve in their fight and he was expertly avoiding its repairs, so he started fresh, experimenting with nanotech.

“Tony, does Y/N seem off to you?” Pepper didn’t bother with pleasantries, Tony hated those. He always preferred getting right to the point. He sat up straighter then, pausing his work to ponder the question. Pepper continued her train of thought. “She’s just been so quiet lately. She barely comes out of her room and I can’t explain it, but she just seems down. Like something’s eating at her. Haven’t you noticed?”

Tony pressed his lips into a thin line, cringing to himself with a small realization. “I actually haven’t talked to her in a bit.” He spun his chair around to face her. “She seems off to you?”

Pepper nodded. “I’m a little worried. Could you check in on her? You might have a better gauge on her than I do.”

“Yep,” Tony answered. “Yep, when I get done here, I’ll head up. Do the ‘Dad’ thing. Talk about feelings. Yay!”

“Careful, you almost sounded enthusiastic,” With an eye roll, Pepper came to him for a quick embrace and Tony leaned into her. “You’ve both been through a lot, Tony. You can connect with her through that.”

Tony nodded. “I will. I promise.”

With a quick kiss, Pepper headed off to bed.

Back upstairs, you were just getting done with your project. It was late by anyone else’s standards, but for a Stark, it may as well have been midday. So, you got up to stretch your legs and found yourself in the kitchen. You were exhausted, but not sleepy. You needed a pick-me-up. But running the coffee machine at this hour was sure to alert your father to the fact that you were up this late. You could’ve made a run to the nearest coffee shop, and grabbed a quick bite as well. Too far away, you thought. You tapped your foot impatiently against the porcelain tile.

Your eyes fell upon your father’s liquor cabinet. Oh no. Bad idea. Horrible idea. Tony would kill you. But what really were the chances of him finding out? You took quick glances over your shoulder. It was silent on your floor, but Tony and Pepper could’ve been on another floor somewhere. Tony most definitely was.

“Hey, FRIDAY?” You whispered to the ceiling.

“Yes, Miss Stark?” She replied.

You wrung your hands and kept your eyes on the entrance to the kitchen as you quietly whispered; “You mind keeping a secret from my dad?”

“What kind of secret?” FRIDAY held suspicion in her tone, different from her usual cool manner.

“The kind that involved me taking drinks out of his cabinet.”

“I don’t think Mr. Stark would appreciate either of us lying to him.” You sighed, squeezing your eyes shut. Sometimes, it sucked a little bit to have your father’s robotic assistant running your house.

“Then we don’t lie. Just don’t bring it up unless he directly asks. I’ll deal with the consequences later.” Oh, you were certainly going to deal with the consequences later. “Please, FRI? Just this one time, I’ll never make you do it again.”

“Alright, Miss. Just be careful.”

“I will,” you replied, kneeling to open the cabinet. You pulled out a bottle of Scotch and, not wanting to leave any evidence behind, you took the whole thing back to your room.

A pit formed in your stomach the moment you left the kitchen. It felt like more than just guilt over going behind your folks’ back. Something else felt wrong but you couldn’t put your finger on it. You decided to just add it to the list of internal feelings to ignore and took a swig of the Scotch as soon as you shut your bedroom door.

“Holy shit, how do people drink this all the time?” You coughed, looking at the bottle like it offended you. But, like an idiot, you drank anyway. You situated yourself on your bed and decided to put on some old movie Tony liked to watch with you as a kid. You were pretty lightweight. This was your first experience with alcohol, after all. You loosened up pretty easily, and you liked the feeling. It was the first time your body hadn’t felt tense in months. You were so inebriated, you didn’t even notice when you fell asleep.

Tony had told himself and Pepper that he would check on you when he finished his work. And he had meant it. But it seems you and your father had something in common; you both sucked at keeping track of time. 7PM became 2AM before he had even realized.

Just as Tony was realizing what time it was, FRIDAY’s voice sounded overhead. “Boss, I believe you should check in on Miss Stark now.”

“Yep. You’re right, totally right,” Tony said casually, completely missing the panic in his assistant’s voice. “Shut everything down in here, I’m going up for the night.”

“Yes, Boss.”

The lights shut off as soon as Tony left the room. He made it up to your floor and knocked twice on your door. No answer. But he heard your TV on, so he hoped you might still be awake. He tried the door again. “Lovebug, it’s me. I was hoping we could have a quick talk if you’re up.” Nothing. “Bug?”

He gently opened the door and something seemed off. You were facing away from him, lying perfectly still. The TV played your movie quietly a few feet ahead of you. To anyone else it would’ve seemed like you had just fallen asleep. But Tony knew better. He saw the bottle sitting on your nightstand.

The world seemed to tilt without his permission. “No…” the word was somewhere between a plea and a demand. He was at your side in a second. “No. No, you didn’t.” He turned your face toward him. You were completely slack. “What the hell, bug?” He shook you, and he hated having to be rough, but he needed to see your eyes. He had to know you were okay, first of all, but he needed to know what could have possibly provoked this choice. “Come on! Wake up, bug!”

A hand on your upper arms pulled you from unconsciousness. You heard a voice beside you, muffled utterances that slowly cleared up. Your eyes snapped open and you were jumpscared by your father’s face inches away from you. “Dad?”

Tony felt like he could breathe again. “Oh, you’re okay.” He held your face in his hands. “What the hell were you thinking?! Since when do you drink alcohol?”

You held onto his upper arms as he gently shook you. You were delirious so you weren’t sure if you’d heard him right. “Huh?”

Tony let out an exasperated breath. “Unless that just happened to find its way into your room,” he said, pointing to the Scotch.

You cringed. Shit. You were hoping he wouldn’t find out until the next morning. “I’m sorry. I tried not to drink too much of it.”

Tony’s head tipped to one side, his expression one of incredible distaste. That was your defense? Like that was the biggest issue at hand. For a moment, there was that look again. The look that showed you how much your well-being terrified him. “You think that’s what I’m upset about?”

“What else could be wrong?”

“What else–” Tony stopped himself before he raised his voice anymore, pinching the bridge of his nose. There was that pit in your stomach again. “I’m worried about why in the hell you’re drinking in the first place.”

“No. No, no, Dad,” you grabbed his arm. “Daddy, I’m so sorry.”

“You know, it’s funny,” he said, sitting on the edge of your bed. “Pepper just came to me a few hours ago telling me she was worried about you. Said you didn’t seem like yourself. And here I come to check on you, and we’re both damn lucky I did.”

“I’m sorry,” your voice was shaky and your eyes burned with fresh tears. “I wasn’t thinking. I just didn’t wanna go through the trouble of making a coffee, but I needed something to relax after my work was done.”

Tony stared at you in a silence that felt too lengthy. He wanted to be angry. It wasn’t real anger with you though. Rather, he was frustrated that his only kid was doing exactly what he did at your age. Going behind your father’s back to do something stupid and dangerous. Did he do something to make you wanna do this? The way his father had done to him so many years ago? Finally, he softened. “Okay. I believe you,” he said.

You exhaled, wrapping your arms around his torso. You mumbled no less than a thousand broken apologies into the crook of his neck, your tears dampening his t-shirt collar. “Please don’t be mad at me. Please don’t hate me for this, I’m really sorry.”

He cradled you again, trying to calm you down. His tenderness only made you feel guiltier. You had a hunch he was going easy on you because of how badly you’d scared him. Any other time, he likely would’ve scolded you for your negligence. But here he was, rubbing your back and rocking you back and forth like you were a little girl. But you missed being held, and melted into the touch anyway. “Shh, shh. I could never hate you, lovebug. I hear you. I’ve got you now. It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered into your hair.

“How do I fix this?” You asked, desperate to repair the damage you’d done.

Tony let out a deep sigh. “You don’t have to fix anything. This wasn’t your fault. But I would like to know what has been going on with you.”

“What do you mean?” You pulled back enough to see his face. He was tense, like he was hurting on the inside.

“I never pushed it,” he began, “because I assumed you would open up when you wanted to. And your mom said prying would only push you away. But there’s clearly something that’s hurting you that you won’t talk about and it’s fine that you don’t want to talk about it but I can’t stand by and let it ruin you. What kind of dad would I be if I didn’t at least try to get to the bottom of it?”

You nodded along, though you felt a little put on the spot. You spent so long trying to keep Tony from knowing what really started all these issues. How were you gonna break it to him now? “What… what do you want to know?”

“Whatever you’re good with telling me,” He replied, giving you space to breathe but staying close enough that you could feel his support. “I want to understand what you’re going through. And if there’s anything I can do to help you.”

And so, you opened up. Like a dam completely breaking down, you told him everything. You explained how it all started. How all his close calls had left a chronic stain in your mind. They made you feel like you were constantly on the verge of losing him to some world-threatening event. You couldn’t stop thinking about it. It invaded constantly, stealing your sleep and general peace. All your nightmares were about him dying in various graphic ways. And when your parents finally sat you down and made you go to therapy, you felt like you had to get better. That if you didn’t, you would be one of the things that were a threat to his well-being, because he was so worried about you.

And you had been better. But then he got distant. And you thought something was happening to him that you were being kept in the dark on. It brought everything back like a freight train. All the worries and nightmares, and a new addition; violent, momentary flashbacks that dragged you back to the most terrifying parts of your life. You couldn’t escape it. But you were trying to pretend like it wasn’t happening so that you wouldn’t worry Tony. You didn’t want to be another thing on his plate. You let it eat at you. And you suppose that’s how you got here. Your mind was so clouded trying to forget your problems and protect Tony’s feelings, you forgot to take care of yourself.

About halfway through your monologue, you had to stop looking at Tony. His expression carried so much pain that you couldn’t bear to watch it. You tried to stop talking, but Tony was too stubborn for that. “No, no, keep going. You’re not hurting me, I promise,” he pleaded, reaching for your hand to quell your nervous fidgeting.

When you were done, he scooched closer and pulled you in for your third hug that night. He tucked your head under his chin and wrapped his arms around your shoulders. “I’m so sorry for all of this, Dad,” you whispered into his chest.

“Nope,” was his instant retort. “Mm-mm. I’ll tell you what you’re not gonna do, you’re not gonna apologize to me for what you went through, like any of it was your fault. If anything, this is my fault.”

“No, Dad–”

“Nope again,” he squeezed you a little for emphasis. “My turn to talk. It’s my fault for not checking in on you when I should have. I didn’t realize how damaging my line of work would be on you. You were so young when all this started. You shouldn’t have had to carry any of it. You’re my kid, my baby, and I should have kept better tabs on you.”

“Dad–”

Tony playfully groaned at you. “Gosh, what’s it gonna take for you to let your old man take accountability? I’m trying to say I’m sorry!”

Finally, you were stunned into silence.

“I’m sorry that my lack of parenting knowledge got you hurt.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m sorry that at any point you felt like you couldn’t talk to me. I’m sorry I let you think you had to protect me. I’m sorry that your childhood was so worrisome.” He lifted your chin to look you in the eyes. You could’ve sworn his were a little glossy. “You should’ve gotten the chance to just be a kid. I’m sorry you couldn’t. If I could go back and change all of it to give you a better life, I would.”

You wiped his face with your sleeve. “It wasn’t all bad, you know. I don’t want you to think I was never happy. I love all the time I get with you.”

“Right back at you,” he mumbled. “You know, I think you’re my favorite kid.”

“I’m your only kid,” you answered, to which he simply pulled you back into his chest.

“Shh. Enjoy the moment, bugger.” You laughed a real laugh, your first one in who knows how long. “Especially since I’m gonna have to ground you.”

“Aww, what?”

“What? I can’t just let you walk away from this scot-free. You still went behind my back and drank,” at your pout, he shifted. “But we can worry about your punishment tomorrow. I believe Pep left us some ice cream in the freezer. I think you’ve definitely earned some emotional support dessert.”

“That sounds great,” you grinned and he led you via the hand into the kitchen, where you each got yourselves two scoops too many of rocky road. You sat cross-legged on the kitchen counter while he leaned against the sink just to your left and you talked like you used to.

When you finally got sleepy, he carried you back to bed and tucked you in. But when he reached the doorway, he realized he couldn’t leave. After everything you’d revealed to him tonight, it felt wrong to let you be alone. He climbed into your bed and you instinctively made yourself small enough to curl into his side. He drew imaginary shapes into your arm until his eyes drooped. You and Tony drifted into the most peaceful slumber either of you had had in months.