vanillaadots.

"I can put a list together tonight," Natasha says, from across the table. She says it the way she says most things, which is without looking up, like it's already decided. "The team lead on their east coast division trained under Kovač. Technically excellent. A little rigid, but you'll manage."

"You know their team lead?"

"I know most people."

"Thank you. Both of you. That's —"

"That's three months," Tony says.

The table turns, as Tony has put his phone down. That should’ve been the first sign of disaster.

"Three months with a — what did you say, firm—"

"Meridian, yes —"

"Never heard of them."

"You've heard of them," Bruce says mildly. "They did the DOD infrastructure audit in 2019."

"I choose not to have heard of them," Tony says. "Here's what I'm offering: full lab access, your own project, no supervision unless you want it, and—" he pauses for what you can tell is a dramatic effect, "—four hundred a week."

You stare at him. "Tony —"

"Five hundred."

"I haven't said anything —"

"The face you made said something. Six fifty, and I'll throw in the good coffee. Not the compound coffee. My coffee."

"Steven," Thor says.

Steve doesn't respond. He's been quiet since the word placement left your mouth. The quality of his quiet has been getting heavier and it’s started to affect the atmospheric pressure of the room.

"Steven," Thor says again, gentler.

"I heard her," Steve says. He has both hands flat on the table. He's looking at his plate. He has not touched his plate.

"It is only three months," Thor offers. He means it kindly, but it lands like a eulogy. "A short time. A blink. I have waited longer for ships." A pause. "Though the ships came back." He frowns. "Most of them."

Steve closes his eyes.

"Thor," Sam says.

"I am helping," Thor says.

"I think," Sam says, turning to you with the careful tone of a man building a bridge over active water, "that this is a genuinely good opportunity and you should absolutely pursue it."

You exhale. "Thank you —"

"I also think," he continues, "and I'm just raising this, I'm not making it a thing, I'm just raising it —" he pauses. "Did you look at other options?"

"Sam —"

"Before you applied, were there other options on the table?"

"It's a competitive placement, there wasn't exactly a —"

"Were we an option?" he says. "On the table, that you looked at and considered and then decided against."

"You can't be an option, you're not a —"

"We have infrastructure," he says, gesturing broadly at the compound around them. "We have resources, we have personnel —"

"Eight fifty," Tony says.

"— we have a training programme," Sam continues, "that Natasha and Steve spent —"

"Forty hours," Natasha says.

"Forty hours building, and I just want to know, academically, whether that came up at any point during your decision-making process."

"It's not that kind of decision —"

"Were we on the list?" he says, very evenly.

The table awaits the grand conclusion.

"...there wasn't a list."

Sam leans back in his chair, and just looks at his plate. "Okay," he says.

Steve makes a sound, that wasn’t exactly a word.

More like the sound a man makes when he's been doing quiet maths and has arrived at an answer he doesn't like. Everyone at the table hears it. Nobody addresses it directly; nobody wants to be the one to open that particular door.

You look at him.

He has moved from hands-flat-on-table to one hand over his mouth, elbow on the table. He was staring at the middle distance with the expression of a man conducting a full internal audit of every decision he's made in the last eight months.

"Steve," you say carefully. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," he says, into his hand.

"You don't look —"

"I'm just thinking."

"About what?"

A pause.

"About whether I've been a good captain," he says, simply, and the simplicity of it is somehow worse than if he'd said it dramatically. There's no angle on it, and no play for sympathy.

Just Steve Rogers, sitting at a dinner table, genuinely asking himself the question.

The room goes very quiet, even Tony stops typing.

"Steve," you start, "that's not —"

"No, I —" He takes his hand away from his mouth, and straightens up. There's something resolved in his face that you distrust immediately. He seems to have made a decision without enough information and intends to see it through. "I want to know what I did wrong. That's fair, isn't it. You deserve to be heard."

"You didn't do anything—"

"Because I've been thinking about the Patterson debrief," he says.

"The Patterson — that was six months ago —"

"I was hard on you."

"You were accurate —"

"I could've been more —" he pauses, picking the word carefully, "— constructive."

"Steve, I learned from that debrief, it was fine —"

"And the rotation scheduling in March," he continues, with the momentum of a man who has opened a file he's been keeping closed, "I had you on doubles for two weeks running. That wasn't — that was too much, and I should've —"

"Steve."

"— and the equipment issue. You flagged it twice and I didn't move it up the chain fast enough, that was on me, I should've —"

"Steve."

He stops.

"I like working with you," you say. "That's not what this is."

He looks at you for a long moment. Something in his expression does something complicated. Then, very quietly, he puts his face in his hands.

Not dramatically, Steve doesn’t do dramatics, he’s a man of dignity. Just — his elbows go to the table and his palms go to his forehead and he sits there. So does the table, with nobody saying anything for a full four seconds.

"It's a three month internship," Bruce says gently, into the silence.

"I know what it is," Steve says, muffled.

He clearly does not fully know what it is.

"I'll do a thousand," Tony says. "Week. Flat."

"Tony —"

"No strings, no deliverables. You can consult on whatever Meridian's got you on, I don't care, I just —" he pauses. For just a second, something more emotional underneath the bidding war flickers. But, he covers it immediately. "I have better coffee."

"You keep saying the coffee."

"The coffee is exceptional."

"Eleven hundred," he says, before you can finish. "And I'll get you a better chair. You've been complaining about the chair in the east lab for —"

"I haven't said yes to any of this."

"Twelve hundred and the chair and I'll put your name on the lab door —"

"Tony —"

"A plaque," he says. "Engraved. Nice font."

Bucky hasn't spoken.

He's been sitting at the far end of the table since you made the announcement. He has a look on his face that you've learned to read as the specific register of Bucky feeling something he has no modern vocabulary for. So he’s simply sitting inside it like a very unhappy building.

"Buck," you try.

He looks at you.

"Say something."

A long pause.

"I taught you the Bucharest cover protocol," he says.

"I — yes —"

"It took me three weeks," he says. "Three weeks. We run it every Tuesday."

"I know, I was there —"

"You're the only other person who knows the Bucharest cover protocol."

You stare at him. "Bucky, that's —"

"Fine," he says. He picks up his glass, and takes a drink. He sets it down with a precise, final click that communicates everything he has decided not to say.

You look at Sam, who mouths: give him a minute.

"Here's my thinking," Clint says.

Everyone turns. He’s been sitting on a theory and has decided the time has come.

"You want normal," he says. "That's what this is. You want regular. Office job and commute. Colleagues who don't know how to dismantle a perimeter. Normal-person stuff."

"Clint —"

"I have that," he says, leaning forward. "I have a farm. I have kids. I coach little league on a completely voluntary basis, I do not have to do that, I choose to do that because I am a normal person with normal hobbies who happens to also —" he gestures vaguely at himself, at the compound, at the general situation.

"The point is, if you want normal, I am right here. You could come to the farm. Help Laura with the garden. It's very —" he searches for the word. "Regulatory."

You open your mouth.

"I have chickens," he adds, as a closing argument.

"Clint, I don't want to work on your farm —"

"I'm not offering you a job, I'm offering you a vibe," he says. "The chickens are incidental."

Thor has been quiet since the ship comment. But quiet for the Asgardian has a texture to it, a specific density, and you've noticed it building for the last ten minutes.

"I do not pretend to understand the customs of this era," he says, finally, with great dignity. "But in Asgard, when a warrior of your standing sought training elsewhere, it was —" he pauses. "It was considered."

"Considered what?" Sam asks.

Thor looks at you. "A message," he says simply. "To the one who trained them."

Steve makes a sound (a wail? sob?) from behind his hands.

"Thor," Natasha says.

"I speak only of custom."

"Different custom," Bruce says. "Very different. Completely inapplicable."

"I am simply providing context —"

"The context is making it worse."

"I don't see how —"

"Steve's had his face in his hands for four minutes."

Thor looks at Steve, then looks at you. Something crosses his face — the big, open guilt of someone who has genuinely tried to help and has made things measurably worse.

"I'm sure your captain has been excellent," he tells you, earnestly, which lands on Steve like a small additional weight.

"I know he has," you say. "That's what I keep —"

"Thirteen hundred," Tony says.

"I didn't fail you," Steve says, from behind his hands. He says it like he's trying to convince himself. "I just — I want to make sure I didn't fail you."

"You didn't."

"The Patterson debrief —"

"Was six months ago and I learned from it."

"March rotations —"

"Were fine."

"The equipment —"

"Steve." You wait until he lowers his hands. He looks exhausted in the specific way of someone who has been their own harshest critic for so long it's become reflex.

"Listen to me. You're a good captain. You've been — you're a good captain. I'm going because I want to learn something new, not because I want to get away from you. Do you understand that?"

He holds your gaze for a moment.

"Three months," he says.

"Three months."

A long breath, then he picks his fork back up. Steve starts eating with the air of a man who has not resolved anything but has decided to table it. For him, it’s roughly equivalent to waving a white flag.

You find a sticky note on your kit bag the next morning.

Make sure they know what they have. — N

Underneath, in different handwriting - blunt, slightly too much pressure on the pen, like someone who learned to write when paper was expensive:

Tuesday cover protocol debrief before you go. You're not leaving until you can run it in your sleep. — B

And at the bottom, in the handwriting you'd know anywhere, neat and deliberate and with slightly too much space between the letters because he still isn't used to ballpoints:

Locker's yours when you're back. Don't let them work you too hard. — Steve

You stand in the corridor for a moment. Three months, you think, It’ll be absolutely fine. (You're going to miss them so much it's embarrassing.)

$ tag @twentytomidnight @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger

$ join taglist

You’re packing up your gym bag when you first overhear them talking. “Movie starts at eight so I figured we could get food at six then walk over?”

“Sounds good,” Hope replies. “Did you invite Carol?”

Your heart sinks as you watch the two of them, hoping that they’ll look over, that they’ll realise. Natasha said all the girls – all of them surely included you? Neither of them even glances at you as they grab their own stuff and head out of the gym. It stings more than you’d care to admit as you slowly stand up, wiping some sweat from your forehead. Natasha had been training with you all day and hadn’t asked you once about a movie, or even told you she had plans that evening.

As you head towards the entrance you spot Tony and Sam talking, “Most of the girls are going out so I thought we could watch a movie here,” Sam says. “Rest of the team, get some snacks, maybe some beer, just chill.”

“Sounds good, I’ll send out a text,” Tony says.

Rest of the team? Surely that must include you. You linger in the doorway, waiting for one of them to say something to you. Tony’s eyes land on you and you smile, but all he does is reach over and ruffle your hair, “Have a good weekend kid. See you on Monday.”

Sam smiles at you too, “Yeah, have a good one kid.”

You visibly wilt but neither of them notices, both clearly eager to start their evening. Maybe they’re under the assumption you’ve been invited out with Natasha and the girls. Maybe they were only planning to invite people actually living in the compound, though you know Tony has his own place. Perhaps it’s your age but you’re only a few years younger than Kate, you could go watch an R-Rated movie with them…

As you head through the compound it feels like everyone’s getting ready to do something fun. Everyone except for you. You pause by the kitchen, seeing Wanda making herself a snack which she often does after training. Kate is sitting on the kitchen counter talking to her, along with Yelena. You wait for one of them to look over, to invite you to join them, but when Yelena does eventually notice you she just smiles and waves, “See you Monday, kid! Don’t get into too much trouble!”

Officially dismissed, you head for the exit, knowing exactly what format the evening, and the rest of the weekend, will now take. Your Mom will be out; she’s usually out most evenings. Your Dad had taken off years ago, you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d seen him. No one will ask you to hang out. No one will make plans with you. You’ll watch reruns of Judge Judy whilst eating whatever food your Mom left for you in the fridge, then head to bed and play on your old Nintendo DS that was just about still clinging on for dear life. You’d got it cheap at a second-hand stall a few years ago because you couldn’t afford a Nintendo Switch. There was no point buying an XBOX or a PlayStation because the only TV in the house was in the living room, and was so ancient that the cables probably wouldn’t be a match.

You have five dollars that you’d found in the park when you’d gone for that walk last week. That might get you a couple of decent snacks to make your evening slightly better. As you head through the reception you hear a burst of laughter behind you, and you have to blink back sudden tears.

You’d joined the Avengers earlier this year, after it had been discovered you could turn invisible. All you’d done was sneak into your school to get the test answers so you’d be prepared for the following day when it had suddenly turned into a whole government problem. You’d been terrified they’d lock you away indefinitely but they’d eventually handed you over to the Avengers, deciding it would be easier for them if they made you the Avengers’ problem. There’d been a long discussion but they’d ultimately agreed you weren’t dangerous, that you could continue living with your Mom, but you’d begin your training at the compound. No more school for you, Tony had hired a tutor to come in to keep you on top of your studies, but most of your time was now dedicated to intensive Avengers training.

Not having to go to school anymore was a major bonus – you’d never really made any friends there. When you’d joined the Avengers you’d been pleased by how kind they were to you, and you’d thought you’d finally found your ‘tribe’ so to speak. Months had gone by though and none of them had ever invited you to Avengers events, to hangouts, to anything outside of training.

You’ve taken just a few steps out of the compound when you stop. Suddenly you can’t stomach the thought of going home. Of sitting alone in that empty apartment with reheated leftovers from last night, wondering whether your Mom will come home tonight or whether she’ll stay at someone else’s house, not sure which is worse. You think of the Friday that she did come home, so drunk she could barely stand, how she’d woken you up by sitting on the edge of your bed, “You’ll always be a loser.” Her voice had been slurred, continuing with her monologue as you pretended to be asleep. “It’s why your Dad left. He knew as well. Your teenage years are for sneaking out, for having some fun… And all you do is sit in this apartment.”

Her hand had patted your head, and you’d burrowed under the covers, trying even harder to pretend you were asleep. It hadn’t stopped her though – her voice had carried beneath your duvet, continuously calling you a loser, a loner, saying you were wasting your teenage years. By morning she’d forgotten. She got to forget and you’d have to remember them for the rest of your life.

Whilst her words had been cruel, some of them hadn’t been untrue. Every weekend does look exactly the same. You never go anywhere or do anything. There are no friends for you to hang out with. What’s the point in ‘sneaking out’? Your Mom would’ve even notice and it’s not like you have anyone to cause mischief with. Nobody likes you. Nobody looks out for you. You’re completely alone in the world.

Before you even realise what you’re doing you turn on your heel and storm back into the compound, throwing your gym bag against the wall, and heading straight to the kitchen. More of the Avengers are gathered there now, some having a drink, some a snack, some just congregating as they all joke and banter, ready for the weekend ahead. All of them excited, none of them lonely or left out.

Steve spots you first, giving you a soft smile, “Hey kid. Did you forget something?”

“No, you guys forgot me!” You shout at the very top of your voice. Usually soft-spoken, it makes everyone pause their conversations to look at you. Normally you’d be embarrassed but the words spill out of your mouth before you can even process what you’re saying, “I like movies! I like hanging out and going for walks and playing games and I know I’m a little young but I’d probably like drinking too and I like- I like all of you! But none of you like me and I don’t get why I’m not your friend or why I’m not invited to any group activities or- Or-”

You’re finally cut off by Wanda putting an arm around your shoulders, and you burst into noisy tears. She shoots a look at the other Avengers, before leading you out of the kitchen, “It’s okay Sweetheart, let’s go somewhere a little quieter and you can tell me, okay?”

You sob as she leads you towards one of the smaller meeting rooms, used mainly for one to one’s and performance reviews. “I just- All I- I just want you to be my friend.”

“I am your friend.”

“So am I,” Yelena says, having followed you both from the kitchen. She closes the door behind her as the three of you sit in the meeting room. “What’s going on?”

“I’m so lonely,” You sniffle, letting Wanda stroke her fingers over your head. “I don’t wanna go home and sit by myself-”

“We thought you’d be out with friends,” Wanda says. “Or that you’d have plans with your parents-”

“It’s just me and my Mom, and she hates me.”

“Oh no, I’m sure she doesn’t,” Yelena says. “How could anyone hate someone as funny and considerate and resilient as you?”

“No, she does, she called me a loser and I am, I’m a fucking loser, I never go anywhere or do anything, and you guys can sense it too which is why you never invite me anywhere-”

“Slow down, slow down,” Wanda encourages, as you hiccup and choke on your words as you try to force them past your tears. “We just thought you’d get bored hanging around with a bunch of adults. We didn’t realise you were feeling so lonely.”

“Of course you can come to the movie,” Yelena says. “It is girl’s night after all.”

Your bottom lip trembles, “I- I can’t. I don’t even have any money.”

“Then I’ll pay for you,” Wanda says. “Have whatever you want at dinner, and I’ll cover your movie ticket too.”

“And you can sit by me and I’ll get us popcorn to share,” Yelena says. “And those strawberry laces, those are so good.”

“The others won’t want me there after I just yelled like that,” You sniffle.

“No one will care honey, I promise,” Wanda says. “Everyone loves you, I mean… I thought you realised you were our baby.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re all pretty protective of you,” Yelena says. “We’ve tried to give you space ‘cos you know, you’re a teenager and you’re probably way too cool for us to be fussing over you all the time-”

“Hey, is she okay?” Natasha asks, appearing in the doorway. “I got you a glass of water.”

“See,” Yelena says with a grin. “We all think the world of you.”

“Y/N’s joining us for dinner and the movie,” Wanda says.

“Oh, awesome!” Natasha says, putting your water down on the table and smiling. “You can sit next to me-”

“She’s sitting by me!” Yelena says.

“Well she has two sides and I’m sitting on the other one!”

Wanda pats your shoulder, “See? We are your friends, I promise. And now we know, we’ll invite you to more things. We didn’t mean to make so many assumptions.”

“You promise you don’t just feel sorry for me?” You ask.

“No way, you’re like the coolest person ever,” Natasha says. “You’re so young and yet you’re already such a great asset to the team. We’ll have you out on the field in no time. You’re gonna be one of the strongest Avengers, just wait.”

Thor smiled reassuringly, his hand slightly raised in your direction, palm facing upward as if inviting you to take it. “Are you alright?” Repeating his unanswered question from before, his head tilted a fraction to his left, a brief hint of concern flickering in those ceruleans.

You were stunned. Your mind did a poof! then it’s gone, hidden away in the tiny crevices of your skull. “yEs—!” You squeaked, voice embarrassingly cracking like a stale breadstick before clearing your throat, trying again. “I mean, yes. Yes, I am.”

Okay, presentable. Hardly. But the efforts were seen.

“… I see.” Thor couldn’t help but let his smile widen, amusement shining through. “Getting quite cozy in the captain’s arms, too, I suppose?” Of course he couldn’t help but tease, his outstretched hand lowering.

You raised your brow in judgment, then looked down—where you were still held like a damsel in distress. You were no damsel, just distressed. Steve also looked down, as if forgetting that he was still, in fact, carrying you. Your weight had become comfortable in his hold, feeling exactly like something he had been missing from eons ago he didn’t know he wanted. (Granddaddy who?)

“Uhm.” You replied, smartly. “I think I can walk now, thank you.” You can't. Sense of touch had returned, yes, but sense of feeling in your legs hadn't. Your knees still felt weak like someone stole your nico-nico-kneecaps and ran like the thief that they were.

Also, was it just you or was it suddenly hotter in here? Like woah, can the sun chill out—oh, it’s… slightly raining? Cool, cool.

Steve didn't trust your words, soulmate instincts flaring in lie detection and whatnot. But he gently moved as told, lowering you carefully like one would to an injured fox—well, if the injured fox’s injury was a concussion, then immediately hovering—not touching—over your arms to act as a guide when you stumbled, quick to catch if ever an imaginary pebble decided it was your time to trip (he’s not gonna let that go).

It was then he decided to admit he was already missing your warmth—with god as his only witness, and his traitorous heart vomiting confessions his mind would think twice before registering.

Meanwhile, you thank the stars for not tripping, but the itch burning on your right shoulder blade is slowly starting to bother you. It almost feels like an invisible pencil was sketching something vaguely reminiscent of a symbol you don’t have the patience to identify.

“Thank you for that, uhm, Captain?” You raised your hand in an awkward attempt at a handshake. Steve—albeit confusedly—gently placed his calloused hand in yours, engulfing it completely with how large his hand was, shaking it once, twice, thrice as if he couldn’t let go. But you did, ‘cause it’s embarrassing how clammy your hand had gotten. You swear it’s not always like that; you blame the NYC air.

Then you pivoted, looking up at the scrumptious giant. “And God.” You raised your other hand this time, waiting for him to take it. Thor did, not even a second later. His hand felt warm—safe. That's the only way to describe it. Your hand was completely covered, and foreign, tiny zaps of electricity slightly tickled your palm. It was strange, yes—you don’t quite remember Thor radiating lightning when touching someone, but maybe this was a forgotten detail in the movies. Maybe it was in the comics, but you really don’t give a fuck, not as if you remembered anyway—you watched the movies for visuals. And maybe for the story and character analysis to procrastinate, but it really doesn’t matter, does it? Besides, it’s not your fault they did a really good job with the cast.

It isn’t. This wasn’t normal. Thor would know; it’s literally his power.

Adding the fact that his well-concealed soul-mark was pulsing in his wrist, he might have an idea why.

You were poking his hand the moment he regained the ability to think coherent thoughts, looking as curious as ever. “…Name?” Thor mumbled, mind apparently still not completely there. Who could blame him? The myth he hardly believed in was currently biting him in the ass. After all, finding a soulmate as a god was something akin to finding a white fox in the middle of a summer heat. Damn near impossible.

But, what do you know, like most antibacterial shit on the market, there’s still a 0.01% chance of finding the germ—gem, he meant gem.

“Huh?” You halted your curious exploration of his bulging dorsal metacarpal veins, choosing to dumbly stare at him instead—those three (3) ridiculous hypotheses still clouding your pretty brain (and the not-so-PG-13 things that include, but are not limited to: bulging biceps, muscular thighs, defined backs, and something about open-mindedness—but that’s like something you aren’t ready to publicly disclose yet).

It made Steve’s lips curl upwards, because surprise surprise, he too wants your name. “He asked for your name, Miss—uh—Miss Stranger.” He stammered, a beautiful pink hue covering the tippy top of his ears as his golden locks gently swayed with the air. It’s like those Head & Shoulders ads you can’t seem to fucking skip ‘cause YouTube is a capitalist asshole, just like that. Except this time, you’d actually, wholeheartedly watch it with zero complaints.

You thought it was cute. Before registering the statement.

“It’s—uhm…” ooh, your name! What to dooo, you forgot your name! Maybe instead of creating visual diagrams backed by research papers and citing Zhang. et al., you should’ve tried to remember the most important part of your identity as a barely functioning human being. Just a thought.

Then, suddenly, as if blessed by the gods who had smitten you less than an hour earlier, you heard a loud whirl of a machine’s firepower briefly shutting down, landing directly on your left.

“Ooookay, glad you’re socializing. Really. But had’ta drop in—I feel like you’re forgetting you’re—you know—in the middle of a battle. Just a hunch.”

Oh, that cocky motherfucking tone—you’d recognize that from anywhere (now that you’ve got your brain intact).

It made shivers involuntarily run down your spine, the hairs on your arms standing to no end as you tried to stomp down the giddy feeling in your chest, your mind easily registering who that person could be.

Of-fucking-course it’s Tony Stark.

[previous] | [next part]

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i have zero thots, all i can say is that everyone, i meant EVERYONE will fall. so yes, tony is not your father figure because, as the title suggests, he will be FUCKED. alsooo, check the tags veeeeeery closely; you'll see the love interests. ALSO, SHOUTOUT TO THE ANON WHO SAID I SHOULD WATCH THE AA CARTOON WHEN THEY SAW MY VERY VISIBLE CRASH OUT. THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!! and i knoooooowwww, i promised a leon fic but i'm polishing it okayyyy. 7k words in and i'm quite literally shocking myself with things i'm discovering abt me, it's crazy. it's the LSK effect, i swear. anywhoooo, hope you like this one! i'm honestly, positively shocked by the love the first part of this fic has received, as i'm preeeetttty sure this doesn't get done anymore (or i'm just not looking hard enuff ouu please rec me one to prove me wrong plsplsplspls). SO THANK YOU, FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART, I'M GRATEFUL! (as always, rbs n comms for kisses—i read every single one!)

© deityditee 2026

𑣲⋆you are definitely spending his card until the bank calls and ensures it did not get stolen (even though you have your own with more than enough money in it). tony gets these calls at least once a month and just waves them off, saying your name in response. the bank apologizes for the inconvenience. 

𑣲⋆when tony is in the lab, it is rare when he finds a moment of quiet, whether that be from F.R.I.D.A.Y or you. when working on a new project, he purposefully ignores your whines until you have to storm in.

𑣲⋆"can i bother you for a second?" you ask, when it's never just a second. tony sighs, knowing that he's about to get another headache, but it's all for his baby girl. you hop on the nearest table that doesn't have papers, a mug, or important hud technology on it, not waiting for a confirmation. somewhere between you telling a story about val and kate, tony puts his tools down. he convinces himself that the story mildly piqued his interest. F.R.I.D.A.Y knows better and remains quiet.

𑣲⋆one night, tony has a break, and he tries to sit down for a simple movie night by himself. no avengers to bother him and work cast aside. after a long day of school and getting fun drinks with your gals down at soho, you drop your bag and slouch next to your dad. "what's up, princess?" after you answer with a quick "nothing!", you give him a rundown of your day in considerable detail. at this point, the tv displays "are you still watching?" and tony is nodding along with "mhm" as his eyes droop.

𑣲⋆when you come home from school, you come to tony in almost tears. you pout, explaining how your physics teacher gave you an 80% on your project that you (and F.R.I.D.A.Y) spent a week on. in disbelief, tony refuses this answer and immediately calls for a parent-teacher conference. when tony comes back around thirty minutes later, he wipes your tears and gives a pat on the back, saying that it was all taken care of. your grade was bumped to a 95% shortly after. 

𑣲⋆after you get caught walking down fifth avenue with some boy (peter), paparazzi went berserk. gossip pages were filled with questions and assumptions (that were slightly true) were made known to nearly everyone. after sneaking back into the tower, tony scolds you for not being more incognito. "why should i ever cover up my outfit?" you say, completely missing the entire point as your dad pinches the bridge of his nose. peter is probably the least of his concerns right now, but he's filing away that questioning for much later (most likely at dinner with the avengers). when you're watching tv together and the headlines have died down, he glances over and says "so. peter, huh?" you pull your knees to your chest and plant your face in them.

𑣲⋆you and your dad have quite similar music taste. the difference is that you have the worst habit of blasting it when you're not wearing your headphones. tony gets away with it because it's his tower. you, on the other hand, get asked to turn it down by all six avengers. you pretend to not hear them.

𑣲⋆on tony's desk, there is a photo of you two from when you were around five. the white, wooden picture frame has a small stain from motor oil because you insisted on 'helping' him fix his suit. he has never cleaned it since.

𑣲⋆natasha is the only avenger you go to when something is terribly wrong, which your father knew and eventually accepted. however, he has not accepted that she won't tell him anything. "she's fine tony. my mouth is zipped shut." "that's not what i asked." "that's exactly what you asked."

𑣲⋆ever since you were young, your personality has been a near replica of tony's. sharp, unpredictable, and always very honest. you voiced your opinions on each and every avenger's suit, as well as weapons, and told them unpromptly. "y'know clint, purple isn't really your color." you were forced to say sorry later that night.

𑣲⋆when finishing up in the lab one evening, tony overheard you talking to kate on the phone, saying that he was your best friend. he has not emotionally recovered since, and hasn't told a soul. he thinks about it quite often, even after you annoy him by saying you flipped off reporters who asked about his new product.

𑣲⋆tony is a very organized man (or at least he tries to be) and keeps everything in order. when exam season starts, your papers are everywhere. glitter-gel pens and imported highlighters are in thor's cookie jar. the blanket you drag everywhere is found in a different spot every day. he angrily but understandingly picks it up and drapes it over you when you nap on the couch every time. 

𑣲⋆the avengers have a group chat. naturally, you are no longer in it. when it was first created, you were accidentally added. you freely expressed your opinions on everything, because seriously, who has the android?? they still won't tell you. even though you were removed, tony still screenshots and shows rhodey your texts because only they would find it entertaining. 

𑣲⋆you know how to win an argument against your father at all times. make your point louder than his, say it louder than him, and skip away before he can actually come up with a rebuttal. he started doing the same after he took notice after the third time, which made the tower louder than it already was. after nat showed steve how to use google, he searched up "how to call in a noise complaint if you live with the noise complaintees?"

𑣲⋆every single year for your birthday, tony gets you something very high-tech and then very vintage. one year, it was a typewriter from before steve was even born and a hair curler that operated without using your hands. you keep every single gift.

𑣲⋆you have successfully been on three magazine covers before you even pitched yourself. the editors are from tony's pr team, of course. it is the same routine of showing up, looking incredible, and saying something that can be interpreted in any way possible. the most recent magazine quoted that you were "refreshingly real and candid."

𑣲⋆a designer once sent you their entire spring collection without notice because you had been photographed wearing one of their vintage pieces while leaving a coffee shop. you texted a photo of the boxes to val, saying, "let's share ;)'

𑣲⋆you were upgraded to first class on a commercial flight because the stark jet was getting maintenance repairs, and you had somewhere to be within the next 12 hours. you posted a photo of yourself with duck lips on your story, captioned, "roughing it." the comments and shares did not receive it well. tony saw it, liked it, and added it to the extremely long list of reasons he finds you admirable and hilarious. 

𑣲⋆you mention tony casually in conversations in ways that make people stop breathing for a hot moment. not exactly saying his full legal name or saying that he just bought a new car, but more like "yeah, my dad couldn't come to the ceremony because he was at a UN thing or something."

𑣲⋆a tabloid once described you as "america's royalty adjacent", which you corrected under their post. "not adajcent." your comment got much traction, which made tony send it to the avengers group chat with one sentence: "laughing out loud."

𑣲⋆someone started a fan account for you without your knowledge. you found out through val and kate, only after wrestling them for val's phone after they would not stop snickering. you followed it, liked three photos, which soon crashed the account from the traction. after being asked about it by a journalist, you simply said "no comment."

𑣲⋆you attended a press event with tony, at which you were asked a question that was obviously a gotcha about your nepotism. you grinned, knowing that it was a bit true, but would never feed into the media's stupid (correct) assumptions. "i mean, someone was going to be his kid. lucky me, aren't i?" the clip ended up with millions of views. tony was probably half of the views. never felt prouder.

𑣲⋆as strong as your personality is, so is your yelp and tik tok account. you leave a comment in expeditious detail at every luxury hotel you stay at. in a recent one, you left four stars instead of five. the reactions online were quite what you expected. "yn stark bashes newest london hotel!" "not nepo-approved." "starks are not satisfied." the hotel's pr team personally reached out to tony's, begging for you to take it down. tony forwarded it to his assistant, and has not heard about it since. 

𑣲⋆one of your classmates from bio once asked if you could get them into one of your dad's business events that were exclusively invite only or cost a pretty penny. you got them in, and special access with tony. they have been loyal to you since, which is a bit crazy, since you barely remember even doing so.

𑣲⋆after his assistant told him what it meant, tony attempted to ragebait you. first, it was leaving your curling iron on, which you just yelled at him for almost setting your bathroom on fire. then, shipping your package to the tokyo house rather than the tower. these didn't piss you off that much, but you drew the line at what he said at dinner. "y'know, you really are my favorite daughter!" you smiled until you realized what he had said. you then stopped chewing, swallowed thickly, and yelled, "i'm your only daughter!"

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 ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔ 

The only alone time you ever got was at school, and even then you weren’t alone with the thousands of students and hundreds of staff.

When you did hangout one on one, it had to be monitored, either by F.R.I.D.A.Y. or another member of the team.

You preferred F.R.I.D.A.Y. because it was far less embarrassing and you could be alone in your room, but the door had to be open. She’d warn you guys to keep space between you when you’d lay in your bed, watching a movie. As soon as Peter’s arm even dared to wrap around you, she’d beep and tell him to remove his arm or else lethal action would be taken.

Peter would pull his lips into a tight line and cross his arms over his chest with a huff, no longer even interested in the movie on the laptop.

Out of all the babysitters who’d been tasked to watch the two of you, you and Peter learned who you liked best and who you despised the most.

You both mostly liked it when Natasha was in charge of watching you.

She’d let you both go into your room with the door shut because truth be told, she didn’t care.

On one occasion, however, she was banned from ever watching you two again.

The door to your bedroom was shut, the first rule already broken. Music played softly from behind the door and Natasha was sitting in the living room, legs kicked up on the coffee table, book in hand.

She checked her watch, noting that there was about another hour before Tony got back.

Unfortunately for her, you, and Peter, he was coming back earlier.

In your room, Peter sat at your desk, fixing his web shooters as you sat on your bed finishing up some homework.

Peter called you over to get your opinion on the altered design. You shot out of the bed and walked over, leaning against the desk beside him as he explained it.

You smiled. “Web grenades,” you said in awe. “That’s super cool, Peter.”

Peter’s face warmed up. “You think so?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

The room went quiet, the only sound being the music.

Peter slowly leaned in as did you. Your eyes fluttered shut, nose brushing against the tip of his when-

“Parker! Out! Now!”

Peter jumped back, the desk chair falling from beneath him. He hit the floor with a loud thud, panic racing through his body.

Your eyes widened, seeing your dad in the doorway who looked like he was about five seconds away from shooting him with his repulsor.

“Mr. Stark! I-”

“Save it,” Tony lectured. “Get up and get out of here.”

Peter almost tripped trying to stand up. He grabbed his stuff and tugged his shoes on, the laces untied. He was about to leave, but stopped.

He raced over to you. “Bye! See you tomorrow!” He pecked your cheek, earning him a near death sentence.

“Oh, you little shit!” Tony yelled. “I swear, I’m gonna-!”

Peter yelped, racing out the door where you found Natasha giving you an apologetic look.

After Natasha got fired from babysitting duties, she was replaced mostly by Bruce who still gave you and Peter space, but ensured there were still boundaries that Tony wanted.

You were no longer allowed to have the boy in your room, but Bruce allowed it, so long as the door was open.

He’d swing by and check in on you both every once in a while, asking if either of you were hungry or needed anything.

The first time he babysat you both, he came by to check in on you and found you both sitting on the floor going through Peter’s comics.

Peter was flipping through one, yapping your ear off about it as you rested your head on his shoulder.

Bruce stood in the doorway for a moment, a small smile on his lips. He cleared his throat and immediately you both jumped back, pretending that you weren’t so close.

“Don’t worry,” Bruce said. “You don’t have to worry about me telling Stark,” he laughed. “I was just going to order a pizza. What kind do you kids want?”

And that was the moment you two started to prefer it when Bruce was on patrol.

Then, there was the worst of the worst.

Sam and Bucky.

The first time you realized they were the ones on watch for the day, you told Peter to just not come over.

He insisted on coming over because he wanted to ‘spend time with his girlfriend’, which he unfortunately ended up regretting.

For starters, they heavily enforced the rules. You and Peter weren’t allowed in your room under any circumstances.

You had to sit on the couch, at least two cushions apart while Sam and Bucky monitored from the chairs directly across from you.

It was so incredibly awkward for two teenagers, but they seemed entertained by it.

At first, neither you nor Peter spoke, you just glared at Bucky while Peter stared at the floor, too nervous to meet the gaze of either men.

And it stayed like that for about twenty minutes until Sam spoke up.

“I don’t get it,” he said. “Why do you two want to hangout so bad if all you do is sit in silence? Aren’t you gonna do something?”

“What are we allowed to do?” you asked. “I feel like I’m in prison on a monitored visit.”

Bucky shrugged, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “Talk, watch something, play with those stupid legos you guys like,” he suggested. “I don’t know. Just stop staring at me, it’s getting weird now.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “This is ridiculous,” you grumbled.

Peter turned towards you, trying to make the best of the situation. “I was talking to Ned about Homecoming and we were thinking that-”

“No,” Bucky interrupted. “Absolutely not.”

Peter pressed his brows together, slowly turning to face Bucky with narrowed eyes. “What?”

“No,” Sam chimed in, shaking his head. “Nope.”

You blinked. “No, what?”

“No!” Bucky and Sam shouted at the same time as if it were obvious.

Peter sank back into the couch, face flushed pink.

You pulled your lips into a tight line, shifting awkwardly.

If you could blow up the entire tower as revenge, you would. You couldn’t understand why your dad had these stupid rules in the first place and you certainly couldn’t understand why Sam and Bucky felt the need to even enforce them.

You supposed they just enjoyed watching you and Peter suffer.

It was dead silent again until you made a suggestion.

“Wanna watch a movie?”

Peter’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, sure!”

You got up and grabbed the remote, turning the T.V. on. You and Peter both settled on Star Wars and before you could even hit play, Bucky snatched the remote from your hand.

“Hey!” you exclaimed. “Give that back!”

“We’re not watching that,” he said, exiting out of the screen. He stood beside the couch, right where you were standing, one hand on his hip as if he were watching an intense match of Sunday night football. “We’re watching something else.”

You groaned and threw your head back. “You know, you don’t have to watch it if you leave.”

“And leave you two alone?” Sam chuckled. “No way.”

Bucky clicked a few buttons and suddenly a new movie was playing.

“What the hell is this?” you asked as both men moved their chairs to either side of the couch.

“A real movie,” Bucky said plainly, and suddenly you recognized the movie he had played on numerous occasions.

Some old war movie from what you thought to be a hundred years ago. It probably predated the dinosaurs which was when you thought Steve and Bucky were born.

“I don’t wanna watch this,” you whined. “Put it back on Star Wars.”

“No,” Bucky said. “Now be quiet and watch. This is important historical stuff.”

Your jaw tightened as you side eyed him from beside you. You turned your gaze to the screens and immediately started to grow bored.

You were about thirty minutes in and Peter was starting to grow antsy too.

He glanced over at you and you smiled softly at him.

His fingers slowly slid across the cushions, yours doing the same until you met halfway.

Your fingers intertwined with his as you both looked back to the screen.

It stayed that way for about two minutes because Sam glanced over to check on you. He leaned forward in his chair and did a double take before he shot up from his seat.

“Oh, hell no!”

Sam and Bucky forced you both apart and ended up kicking Peter out, telling an over exaggerated story to your father about what happened.

And that was when you decided you hated them as babysitters.

Wanda and Loki came along and because of their powers, they always knew what was going on, no matter how sneaky you thought you were, which started to grow annoying.

Wanda didn’t necessarily care what you were doing, but she did start to care when all she could hear was the sounds of you two kissing behind closed doors. That was when she said you weren’t allowed to kiss anymore.

Loki told the entire tower a long while ago that he ‘despised the Stark witch with purple powers’, so naturally when he came along, it felt like you were under house arrest. Sometimes Peter could try to sneak a kiss from you and end up blasted twenty feet away from you. Other times, Loki wouldn’t even let you look or speak to Peter.

Then there was Thor who would quite literally sit between you two on the couch, telling stories about his life as a young boy on Asgard while smacking on an entire box of Poptarts with his mouth wide open.

And then there was Vision who took his job incredibly seriously, making the tower feel like a prison.

Steve came around every once in a while and ran the place like the damn navy, enforcing rules left and right like his life depended on it.

Then there was Clint…

One time he pretended not to care what you and Peter did, which resulted in you both in your room with the door shut. You were in the middle of a pretty intense game of Mario Kart when Clint came plummeting through the vent, straight into your room.

He was spying on you both through the goddamn vents!

Soon enough, you and Peter came to the realization that the only way to actually be able to spend time with one another would be to sneak you out of the tower.

So, you used your genius little Stark brain to disable F.R.I.D.A.Y. and disengage all defense systems at your bedroom window.

It was half past midnight and no one ever came by your room that late.

Now was the perfect time to head out.

A soft thud hit your window and you smiled, seeing a masked hero waving at you on the other side, the little spider lenses conveying excitement.

You opened up and your window and your boyfriend landed inside your room with quiet, practiced ease.

“Hi,” he whispered, cheesing from under his mask.

You smirked. “Hi.” You walked over to him, and his hands found your waist. Your fingers came up and lifted his mask just above his nose, pecking his lips quickly before pulling his mask back down.

Peter’s face flushed pink. “Are you ready?”

You nodded. “Yeah, just need my jacket,” you whispered, heading for your closet.

“Tiny Stark?”

You froze, a small gasp escaping you.

Peter glanced at you, fear in his eyes.

“Yeah…?”

“You okay?” the voice you recognized as Thor yawned.

“Yeah.”

…

…

…

“Is someone in there? I thought I heard you talking.”

“I’m…I’m on the phone. With- with uh- MJ.”

…

…

…

“Makes sense. Night.”

“Goodnight.”

You stood there for a second, listening to Thor’s footsteps head back to his room. You let out a sigh of relief.

“Let’s get the hell out of here.”

You grabbed your coat and slipped it on. Peter held his arms out to you, and you wrapped your legs around him, arms wrapping around his neck.

He climbed out of the window and shut it quietly.

“Ready?” he asked.

You swallowed hard, shutting your eyes. “No,” you replied honestly. “Just go.”

Peter jumped off of the side of the tower, flicking his wrist, a line of web catching onto the neighboring building.

“Holy shit!” you exclaimed, freaking out. You gripped onto him tighter, squeezing your eyes shut as your stomach dropped with each and every swing.

“It’s okay!” Peter chuckled. “I’ve got you!”

“What the hell!” you exclaimed, nails digging into the back of his suit. “How do you do this?!”

Thankfully the swing to Peter’s apartment wasn’t too far. He landed on the window and opened it, helping you inside.

You climbed in and gasped, clutching your stomach as he climbed inside, shutting the window.

“You okay?” he asked, yanking his mask off and tossing it aside.

You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah…I don’t know how you do that without throwing up,” you grimaced.

Peter chuckled. “Wanna build legos without getting yelled at?” he asked, already making his way over to his stash.

“Yeah!” you beamed.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Little did you know before sneaking out, Tony couldn’t sleep. He was up late at night down in the lab, tinkering as he always did when his mind wasn’t at ease.

He’d been hearing all about how you and Peter were breaking rules left and right and how the babysitting situation with Loki had gotten so out of hand that Peter refused to come over anymore, much to your dismay.

Nat had gotten into Tony’s ear about letting you be a teenager and have your boyfriend over without overbearing you two. There was no issue with ground rules, the issues stemmed from how ridiculous they were.

With a loud clank, Tony stropped his screw driver and pinched the bridge of his nose, realizing that he should probably talk to you about it. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., check to see if the little Stark is sleeping.”

“Checking in on Stark Jr.”

Tony started mumbling to himself about how stupid the whole situation was. He couldn’t understand why you had to choose Peter of all people and he couldn’t understand why you even wanted a boyfriend.

Not too long ago you were ranting about how stupid boys were but as soon as Peter came into your life, you only ever wanted to be around one person, which was him.

“I am unable to contact her through her bedroom. It would appear that all communication systems have been disabled in her room and that all defense systems outside her room have been disengaged.”

Tony blinked, nodding his head as he was both impressed and shocked that you’d do such a thing.

Then again, you were his daughter.

“Huh…” he muttered to himself. “Give me playback on Parker’s suit,” he said, pushing his rolling chair across the floor to his monitor. Immediately, he put two and two together. You and Peter were up to something.

“All recording systems inside of the suit have also been disabled.”

Tony stared at his reflection in the monitor, his finger hovering over the power button. “Those little shitheads…”

Tony leaped up from his desk. “Gather the team, would you? We’re going to find them.”

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Peter had changed out of his suit into pajama pants and some nerdy t-shirt Ned gave him for Christmas. You were sitting on the floor across from each other assembling legos, the Imperial Star Destroyer to be exact.

Peter was babbling on and on about the small missions he had been taking to save the city, ranging from saving a cat from a tree and helping an old woman cross the road.

You couldn’t help but to smile at how excited he was to save people. It was absolutely adorable.

You snapped a couple of lego pierces together and giggled as he mimicked bank alarms going off, and flicking his wrist as if to show you how he swung in to save the day.

Little did the two of you know, outside, the entire team of heroes were on high alert searching for you.

“I’ve got eyes on the target,” Clint said through the radio.

He was perched on a building across the way from Peter’s apartment, an arrow aimed right at the window.

“Where?” Tony asked almost immediately.

“His place.”

“Well, what are they doing?”

Clint chuckled. “Building…legos.”

Loki’s laugh echoed through the comms. “You mean to tell me this idiot mortal flying around in a bucket of bolts dragged us all out here to look for his offspring who’s building legos?”

“She seriously snuck out to build goddamn legos?” Bucky scoffed over the comms. “Real fine parenting, Stark.”

Nat hummed. “Weren’t you the one who told Tony her and Peter were breaking all the rules while you were on babysitting duty?”

“Because they were,” Sam interjected. “They were holding hands.”

“What’s so bad about hand holding?” Bruce asked with an awkward laugh.

“You know,” Thor’s voice boomed, making Clint wince and take his ear piece out, still able to make out everything Thor was saying. “Back on Asgard, there was this myth that said if you held hands with your lover for an extended period of time, nothing in the cosmos could tear you apart.”

“Well, I’m about to tear them apart,” Tony announced. “I’m going in.”

“Why?” Wanda asked. “They’re not doing anything harmful.”

“Stark loves control,” Steve retorted.

“Uh…” Nat trailed off. “They both told me that you pulled out a tape measure to make sure they were three feet apart. Sounds like you’re equally controlling.”

“Structure isn’t control.”

Tony landed on the building beside Clint who was putting his ear piece back in. “How long have they been building legos for?”

Clint shrugged. “Since I got here.”

Tony watched through the window as Peter carefully took the pieces you assembled and clicked it to the ones he assembled.

Peter smiled and put his hand up, high fiving you.

“They’re kinda cute,” Nat said, suddenly appearing beside Tony.

Tony flinched, catching his breath. “Can you stop doing your spy shit on us? You’re gonna give me a damn heart attack.”

Clint only chuckled, completely used to Nat sneaking up on people.

“You’re going to give yourself one if you keep losing your mind over every little thing she does,” she said.

“Can we go home now, or what?” Loki asked over the comms. “I’m losing my eight hours of sleep.”

Before Tony could say something snarky, Nat spoke up. “Yes, you can all go back. Stark thanks you all for your help.”

“No he doesn’t,” Bucky grimaced.

Clint grabbed his arrows. “I’m out. Don’t kill her, she’s kind of funny, slightly less annoying than you,” he said, placing a firm hand on Tony’s shoulder.

Tony flipped him off and he climbed down from the building.

The team headed home, leaving Nat and Tony on the roof.

Tony let out an exasperated sigh as he watched you start to put together the next pieces of the lego set, glancing up at Peter every now and then with such a loving look in your eyes.

“I hate having to watch her grow up,” he mumbled.

Nat turned to him with a small smile. “I can imagine how difficult it is, but the more you try to stop her, the more she’ll fight you on it. Like right now,” she said, motioning to the window. “She literally just snuck out to build legos. That’s insane, Tony.”

Tony groaned. “Why does she even want a boyfriend? Life was so easy when that freaking kid wasn’t here. Maybe I’ll kill him.”

“You won’t,” Nat laughed. “You like him and honestly, you should be glad she chose him. He likes her a lot.”

Tony hummed. “I guess he’s a half decent kid…”

Back inside the bedroom, Peter’s brows pressed together as he glanced out of the window.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

Peter’s spider senses were going off, alerting him of something he couldn't quite put his finger on. “I don’t know…” he trailed off. “I feel like someone’s watching us or something.”

You glanced out the window, not seeing anything. “I don’t see anything, Peter.”

Peter got up and drew the curtains back, returning back to the floor, but instead of sitting across from you, he sat beside you.

“You don’t think your dad knows…” he whispered, as if he were lurking somewhere. “Do you?”

You shrugged. “Honestly, if he knew, he would’ve probably blasted you with a bomb by now.”

Peter’s brows rose. “How reassuring.”

You giggled and pecked him on the lips. “You’ll be fine.”

You went to put the lego pieces back together, but Peter’s hand grabbed your waist. You turned your gaze back to him. “What?”

“You can’t just kiss me on the lips like that and turn away from me,” he said sheepishly, his cheeks and nose burning pink.

Your lips curved upward as you leaned in, kissing him slowly as he melted into it.

His hand came up and cupped your face softly, lips moving against yours gently, causing you to sigh in content.

Finally, you could kiss your boyfriend in piece.

No babysitters.

No threats.

No interruptions-

“Open the curtains or I’ll send a repulsor through it.”

You and Peter pulled away, shock on your faces at hearing your father’s voice through Peter’s phone.

“What the?!” Peter exclaimed. “How did you-”

“Five, four, three, two-”

“Okay! Okay!” Peter said, scrambling to his feet and yanking the curtains open only to find Tony hovering there in his suit.

“Sneaking out to build legos, huh?” he asked, looking right at you.

You rolled your eyes. “And make out, but-”

“Don’t say that!” Peter hissed, fearing for his life.

“Open this window,” Tony demanded.

Peter gave you a petrified look before opening the window with shaking hands.

The head of your father’s suit turned to you, then back to Peter. “Take her back home. Right now,” he said.

“Yes, Mr. Stark!” Peter replied.

“And you,” Tony said, turning to face you. “You’re grounded for…I don’t know how long but you’re grounded.”

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

You were in fact not grounded.

Natasha had gotten into Tony’s ear again about letting you be a teenager and explained to him that he could set boundaries without being overbearing.

So, that’s how Peter ended up allowed back at the tower in your bedroom, but the door had to stay cracked open a minimum of three inches and you had to stay at least two feet apart from one another instead of three.

No kissing, hand holding, or hugging was allowed.

It was so stupid, but you went along with it.

Until you didn’t.

You’d leave the door cracked open and kiss Peter all you wanted, listening for footsteps. Whenever you two heard them, you’d separate and act like you weren’t doing anything.

You got away with it for a long time until Tony caught you both one day and realized that you had been breaking rules all along.

He was walking up to your room to see if you wanted some of the dinner Wanda had whipped up.

The soft hum of music played from your room and he could faintly make out one additional sound.

The unmistakable sound of two people kissing.

He slowly peaked through the crack in your door and low and behold, you and Peter were making out on your bed.

“Hey!” he shouted.

You gasped, pulling away from Peter. Eyes wide, you stuck your hand out, purple mist covering the door handle and slamming the wood shut.

Tony yanked at the door, banging on it with his fist. “You open this goddamn door, right now!”

A few seconds later, your hold on the door loosened and Tony came crashing inside, a vein or two popping out of his forehead.

You were sitting on one end of the bed, Peter on the other with a comic in his hands, acting as if he had been reading it the whole time and not making out with you.

Tony glanced between the two of you, blinking rapidly as if it would magically put you back into the position you had been caught in just seconds ago.

For a second he thought he was losing his mind until you spoke up. Then it hit him that you were messing with him.

You smirked at your dad’s face. “What?” you asked.

Tony was at a loss for words after that.

He didn’t want you to sneak around him anymore and he thought he was making the rules less strict, so he couldn’t understand why you continued to go against his word.

After a week of you and Peter pulling the same stunt, he had grown tired of it.

He went to Natasha, the only person he thought could help.

“And they just won’t stop,” he went on, pacing his lab. “I mean, it’s absolutely ridiculous.”

Nat sat at one of the spinning chairs and shrugged. “I mean…they’re just kissing, right?”

“But it’s constant!” Tony exclaimed, throwing his arms up. “And she’s only doing it to piss me off.”

“Well it’s working,” Nat laughed.

Tony sighed and leaned against the metal of the desk. “I’m going to have an aneurysm.”

Nat sighed and kicked her feet up onto the desk. “Just…talk to them,” she said plainly. “Get on their level and have a conversation. Tell them that he’s allowed over but they have to keep the door open.”

“I did!”

“No,” Nat said with a head shake. “You said they have to keep the door open and they can’t even hold hands,” she corrected. “You can’t set ridiculous ground rules and expect them to follow the illogical ones.”

Tony groaned, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can’t you just talk to them for me? You’re good at the whole…heart to heart thing.”

Growing up, your father’s father wasn’t really the greatest parent, and Tony didn’t want to follow in those steps. However, because he had a shitty father, he wasn’t so sure how to get on your level and have a conversation like the one Nat was proposing without snapping.

Nat snorted. “She’s not my kid.”

“Yeah, but she acts like you’re her mom so…”

“No Tony, you can do it.”

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Tony sat on the stairs just a few feet away from your bedroom, reading over the crumpled piece of paper in his hands.

Steve walked by and eyed him. “What’s that?”

Tony rubbed his eyes. “A heart to heart.”

“You have a heart?” Steve asked, earning a glare from Tony. “My fault,” he said, pulling his lips into a tight line.

Tony raised a brow, tilting his head slightly. “My fault?” he repeated. “How old are you?”

Steve smiled, pulling a small notebook out of his back pocket. “Parker and your daughter have been teaching me all the ‘hip’ lingo.”

Tony cringed. “For the love of God, don’t say ‘hip’.”

Steve flipped through his pages. “Oh! Right here…” he said, narrowing his eyes in an attempt to see better.

“Please don’t,” Tony sighed. “I really don’t have the patience for this.”

“Captain America mogs Iron Man,” Steve said proudly with a smile, shutting his book. “It basically means-”

“I know what it means,” Tony deadpanned. He swatted his hand at Steve. “Now, get out of here please. And I hope you realize no one says that in real life.”

Steve opened his mouth to say something but stopped.

Just a few feet away, Steve and Tony could hear you and Peter kissing from outside of your door and the sound of both of your soft giggles in between them.

Steve smirked at Tony’s jaw clenching. “Duty calls,” he said, nodding at Tony before taking a step past him down the stairs. He stopped about two steps below the one Tony was sitting at. “Sounds like Parker’s got rizz.”

“Literally no one says that,” Tony said, completely exasperated. “They’re setting you up to get bullied, by the way.”

Steve shrugged, waltzing down the stairs.

Tony groaned. “I hate this tower,” he mumbled to himself before standing up and making his way over to your bedroom door. 

He could still faintly hear you and Peter kissing over the music, followed by your giggle.

“Peter, stop!”

“You don’t like it?”

“No!” you laughed.

Peter hummed and again, the sound of kissing ensued.

Tony shut his eyes in annoyance and knocked. “Hey…” he trailed off. “I…I just wanna talk.”

The door slowly creaked open, purple mist on the handle.

You sat on one end of the bed, Peter on the other, who gave Tony an annoyed look, which was the first time he had done so, but at this point, he was completely unaware of his expressions. He just wanted to go back to kissing you and hearing your soft laughter at his antics.

Tony shut the door and walked into your room, grabbing your desk chair and pulling it up beside your bed. “We need to talk,” he said, a slight nervousness in his tone that was a few seconds away from being taken advantage of.

“Okay…?” you said, completely unaware as to where this was going, because never in your life had you seen your father so awkward.

You and Peter shifted, moving to sit beside one another, legs criss crossed. The music still played, adding to the awkwardness.

“I wanted…” he trailed off, shutting his eyes. “I- what I- goddamn it!” he exclaimed, losing his train of thought over the music. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., kill the music, would you?”

“Stopping the music.”

Tony let out a sigh and clicked his tongue. “I was trying to say that…we uh…oh shit, uhm…” He blinked, looking up at the ceiling trying to remember the not so passive aggressive words Natasha told him to use.

Peter slowly leaned over to you, whispering something into your ear that Tony couldn’t make out.

You immediately giggled, nodding your head in agreement.

You both looked back at your father, and you tried your best to conceal the laugh coming out, but failed miserably.

Tony watched, lips parted. He glanced at you, then looked to your boyfriend who he now wanted to kill. “Alright, you know what. It’s your Aunt May,” he said suddenly, staring daggers at Peter.

Peter blinked, his heart already beating a million miles a minute. “What?! Aunt May?!”

“Yeah,” Tony nodded. “Something happened. Something bad.”

“Is she gonna be okay?!”

Tony shrugged. “I don’t know, but we should leave and get you back home.”

Peter followed Tony out of the Tower and into his car, but not before giving you a quick kiss.

In the car, he was freaking out, insisting that he should just swing to his apartment to get there faster.

“But, Mr. Stark, if I swing I can-”

“You don’t need to-”

“My aunt! What if she-”

“Relax.”

“Oh, my gosh what if-”

“Would you just put a cork in it-”

“Aunt May-!”

Tony slammed on the breaks in the middle of the road, making a hundred cars honk at him. “Look! Nothing is wrong with your Aunt May!”

“…Huh…?”

Tony lightly let off the gas, driving down the street, eyes fixated on the road. “There’s nothing wrong with your aunt,” he said, tone more leveled.

“I don’t understand,” Peter said. “You said that-”

“I know what I said and I said that because there’s something very wrong with what’s going on between you and my daughter.”

Peter’s heart sank. He didn’t want to be banned from the tower again and he sure as hell didn’t want you to not be allowed to date him.

“Oh, Mr. Stark,” he said. “I’m sorry I…I don’t know what I’m sorry for because apparently even breathing in her presence is a crime but-”

“Look, pal,” Tony said, holding a finger up in Peter’s face. “Watch that mouth on you.”

Peter sunk in his seat. “Sorry…”

“I don’t understand why you two constantly need to be kissing or touching each other,” he grimaced. “If you would behave like normal human beings, then maybe we wouldn’t need such intense ground rules.”

Peter blinked. “What’s the point in having a girlfriend if you can’t kiss her? You’re basically just friends at that point.”

“Then just be friends.”

“But I wanna kiss her!”

Tony yanked the wheel, making Peter hit his head against the glass. He parked the car on the side of the road and turned to face Peter properly.

“Do you want to be banned from the tower again?”

“No…” Peter grumbled, rubbing the side of his head.

“Okay. Then you can…date…” Tony grimaced, as if the words pained him to say. “…my daughter, so long as you don’t kiss and leave six feet between you two.”

“I thought it was two!”

“Well, it’s six now!”

Peter sat up straight, a pleading look in his eye. “With all due respect, Mr. Stark, your daughter is the best thing that has happened to me,” he said sincerely.

Tony shrugged. “Yeah, she kinda has that effect on people. She gets it from me.”

“Sure,” Peter deadpanned, rolling his eyes with a sass Tony hadn’t seen. “Anyway, my point is, I can’t just be her friend. I…I love her.”

Tony’s eyes widened as his brows rose. “You? Love my daughter?”

Peter’s face flushed pink, realizing that he had just admitted it out loud. He loved Tony Stark’s daughter. “Yes.”

Tony stared at Peter for a long while, so long that Peter was beginning to think that he was plotting ways to kill him.

“Incoming call from Romanoff,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. announced.

“Answer it,” Tony said.

“Tony,” Natasha’s voice came in sternly.

“Natasha.”

“Where are you? Where is Peter?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh, I’m not,” Natasha said. “But you should be.”

Tony’s brows pressed together. “Why?”

“Because your daughter and Loki are using their voodoo magic stuff to try and curse you.”

“What?! I thought he didn’t like her!”

“Turns out he does, so I would highly suggest bringing Peter back.”

If there was one thing Tony was afraid of, it was you and the God of Mischief himself teaming up to plot his demise.

“So…does this mean I can still date your daughter?” Peter asked optimistically, leaning over the center console.

“No.”

Over the line, the two could make out the voices of you and Loki.

“Lethal or non lethal?” Loki asked.

You hummed. “Which do you recommend?”

“Lethal,” he responded without hesitation.

“Lethal it is.”

Tony’s jaw dropped, eyes going wide.

“I don’t think you have much of a choice, Mr. Stark.” Peter smirked.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

A/N: Feel free to send in tower fic requests! I’ve been so obsessed with them again, 12 year old me would be proud

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added!)