Request: Hiii can I request where you’re Tony’s daughter and he forces Peter to break up with you thanks ☺️
Peter Parker x Reader
Your hair was in a lengthy, thin braid draped over your shoulder. Even from Peter’s spot in the crowd, he could see the smudged eyeliner and mascara underneath your eyes.
“Romance,” you spoke delicately, “who loves to nod and sing. With drowsy head and folded wing, among the green leaves as they shake.”
He bit his lip, looking down at his hands which were folded tightly in his lap. “Far down within some shadowy lake,” you continued and Peter looked up, only to lock eyes with you.
You smiled at him, taking a beat before continuing on proudly.
The crowd was clearly entranced by your voice and words. And while Peter usually found his girlfriend’s poetry readings to be the most calming and amazing things in his life, though tonight was different. He hadn’t noticed you had ended until you took a seat beside him.
“That was so nerve wracking,” you grinned, shoving the poetry book into your bag. “What did you think?”
He looked at you and managed a smile. “It was amazing, [Y/n]. as usual.”
Your plump lips turned up into a smile, [e/c] eyes lighting up. “I’m so glad you liked it.”
Peter continued to answer your questions with short words and shook his head “no” or “yes” whenever you asked for an opinion.
“Come on,” he said after the readings ended. “I want to get you home before curfew.”
You made no comment, only smiled and nodded.
Together, you both strode along the sidewalk, the sun just going down. Cool spring air tickled Peter’s face, brushing itself through his hair and combing through the trees.
When you reached for his hand, Peter tensed up.
You paused.“Is something wrong?” you finally exclaimed, as though you’d been dying to ask for hours.
Peter looked at you, his eyes wide; he looked like a deer in headlights. “Nothing is wrong,” he quickly said. “Are you sure?” you asked, wrinkling your nose. “You’ve been acting strange all night.”
Peter sighed, his hands suddenly feeling clammy and sweaty. “There’s one thing,” he admitted. “One thing that I have to tell you right now and I’ve been holding it off all night because I really don’t want to have to say it out loud.”
You averted your eyes, lashes skimming her upper cheek. “Is something wrong with May?” you asked, sounding as though you could burst into a cry. “No, no, May’s fine,” Peter assured and you visibly relaxed. “Then what is it?”
I can’t do this anymore.
I can’t see you like this.
I don’t want to see you anymore.
The words rushed through Peter’s lungs, stinging his heart whenever he took a breath to speak. The words felt foreign and vile in his mouth. They tasted toxic and poisonous and deadly. And all the while, he meant none of it.
“Why are you doing this?” you finally asked at the end of his speech. “Is this about my father?”
For a split second, Peter feared that you knew his secret.
“Is this about who I am, about me being Tony Stark’s daughter?”
You didn’t, he reminded himself. You knew nothing of his identity nor had you ever met Spider-Man (despite being the daughter of Stark.)
“That’s not was this is about,” he said as calmly as he could. “This isn’t about anything you did. It’s about-”
“Let me guess,” you interrupted, suddenly sounding angry. “This is about you. ‘It’s not me, it’s you, it’s nothing you did, it’s all my fault.’” You spoke mockingly and Peter could tell you were blindingly angry, confused, sad, scared. “Okay, well fine.”
“[Y/n], I’m so sorry,” Peter wanted to say. He wanted to leap forward and swoop you into his arms and kiss you.
But he didn’t.
He watched as you tore off the necklace he’d given you as a gift. “Here,”you said softly. “I don’t want it.”
“[Y/n],” he began, taking a deep breath.
You grasped his hand, putting the cool chain into his palm then curling his fingers around it. “I don’t want it,” you repeated.
“Hey, doughnut, how’d the date go?” your father asked when you trudged through the door. You took a breath before dropping your purse to the floor. “He broke up with me,” you said plainly.
Tony jolted up from his seat, staring at you. “What?”
“He broke up with me, I don’t really want to go into details,” you added sternly, kicking off your shoes. “I’m fine,” you quickly said when he opened his mouth. “Just tired. I’m going to bed early.”
“Goodnight,” he called aimlessly as you quickly headed to your bedroom.
Feigning innocence was something generally easy for Tony to do, though not in this case. Lying to you wasn’t something he’d wanted to do. More something he had to.
I’m fine. You memorized the words and the sympathetic looks that came with it.
“Dad, I really don’t want to talk about,” you’d finally snapped one morning, dropping your spoon into your bowl. He pursed his lips as you angrily stood up. “I just want to make sure that-”
“Remember how every time I try and talk about mom?” you suddenly yelled. “Why don’t you try to imagine how I feel right now.”
You stormed off, leaving your father in shock, his coffee mug halfway to his mouth. “Ouch,” he muttered before taking a sip. Perhaps forcing the Spiderling to break up with you wasn’t such a smooth move on his part. Though he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk you finding out the Spiderling was, in face, Peter Parker and vice versa. it could put you in danger, as if being the child of an avenger wasn’t dangerous enough…
You retreated to the higher levels of the tower, your warm and cozy home (note your sarcasm). The small lab your father had set up had been adjusted for your comfort, or it had when you were deemed mature enough to be up there.
Now, something you and Tony differed in was your aptitudes for science. You had a basic understanding of how to calibrate weapons, adjust his Iron suits, and hack into a very, very thin and loosely protected system. Even then, you needed the occasional wikipedia boost. Though where you lacked in such foreign matters, you made up for it through a strong understanding of literature, history, and research.
You knew you dad would have much more preferred you to excel in his particular skill set, which is exactly why you took it upon yourself to take on a new mission.
The Spider Man suit was well made and expertly handled, though there was always more room for improvement. Plus with the Spiderling (as Tony often referred him too) in constant action, there were constant repairs and upgrades needed.
You’d been neglecting the Spiderling costume since the break up with Peter. Most of the time, you’d managed to sneak Peter into the lab and show him the costume, but only under the strict rule he could tell absolutely no one. Peter had often made adjustments or given critiques to the possible changes of the Spiderling façade.
So now, even looking at the costume made your stomach hurt.
Instead of even bothering to get the supplies out to work on the costume, you bounced onto the sofa and curled up with a blanket.
You told yourself not to cry. Why cry over a silly boy? It wasn’t as though Peter was the one thing keeping you alive.
And what with the current fad going on around on tumblr with being an “independent woman who don’t need no man”, it made you feel like utter shit for yearning over your ex.
But tumblr had no say over your emotions.
So you cried until you slept.
You stirred awake to the sound of distant chatter.
When you heard one certain voice clearly, you sat up with wide eyes.
“Peter?” you called, jumping off of the couch. “Dad!” You then called, running out of the lab and following the voices.
You dodged into the training room, the source of your slight fear, and couldn’t help the slight disappointment you felt.
“Oh,” you muttered, your cheeks going red. “Er, I’m sorry,” you quickly said. “I thought I heard something.”
Tony stood there with a figure clad in red.
“So,” you said through a yawn, “you must be the Spiderling my dad talks so much about.”
Tony nodded shortly, looking quite uncomfortable.
“It’s, uh, nice to meet you,” you tried to strike a conversation with the visitor.
Spider Man only nodded awkwardly.
“So I’m [Y/n],” you continued with a hint of an attitude. Your dad sent you a look to which you ignored. “I’m the one that worked on your suit for hours on end, the least I could get is a thank you instead of being ignored.”
“[Y/n], that’s enough,” Tony suddenly snapped. “Yeah, now it’s enough,” you mumbled under your breath.
Tony took a deep breath while Spider Man slowly shifted away.
“Your waist is showing,” you suddenly said. Spider Man froze, his head snapping towards you. You pointed a finger to the small rip in his costume. “I can fix it,” you added, beginning to walk over.
“Absolutely not,” Tony suddenly interjected.
You paused, narrowing your eyes at your father. “Why not?”
“Because I said so.”
“It’s not like I’m going to demand he show me his true identity,” you argued. “I’ve taken care of his suit so far, why can’t I do this?”
Tony crossed his arms over his chest. “Why don’t you go up to your room and we’ll talk after our guest leaves.”
You stared at your father with burning eyes as well as burning cheeks. “Why don’t you just leave me alone until tomorrow,” you snapped to him before turning away.
How embarrassing, you thought in the back of your mind.
It was already time to settle in for bed, despite your napping just moments beforehand. The sun had already set and the moon hung in the sky like figure clad in grey clouds.
Though you were still entirely drowsy, the sticky feeling of sleep kissing your eyelids.
You curled up in your bed, hugged a pillow, and slept, this time with no tears to shed.
The feeling of lips on yours startled you awake.
You jolted up in your bed, prepared for a fight even with your hair knotted from slumber.
The window of your bedroom was wide open, which scared you because it was closed almost all the time. You quickly jumped out of the covers to go and shut the pane closed when something caught your eye.
You crept forward, dimming the lights on to avoid burning your eyes.
“Miss, shall I alert your father you’re awake? You seem startled, your heart rate has risen,” F.R.I.D.A.Y asked.
You shook your head. “No, no, I’m fine…” you trailed off. On your desk had been a folded up costume with a spider logo on the chest.
Hesitantly, you took the costume in hand and lifted it, the cloth coming undone.
An object that had been rolled up in the clothing rattled onto the hardwood floor and you knelt down to find it, fearing the worst.
A bomb, a tracker, a camera, a-
Namely, your necklace. The thin golden chain with a single charm that you hadn’t seen in three weeks because you’d given it back to Peter.
And along with the costume was a simple note: Keep it.
You rushed to the window, tightly grasping the necklace in hand as you overlooked the traffic.
You yelled his name into the city and he came to you.