worldsmessiestwriter

[worldsmessiestwriter]

𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼

‧₊˚✧My Masterlist✧˚₊‧

Hi! Welcome to my page. I primarily write Marvel fanfiction and songfics. I am currently accepting requests, so if you have a specific story in mind, feel free to send it my way, and I’ll be more than happy to write it for you! Additionally, I also publish on Wattpad under the same name, so I would appreciate it if you checked that out as well! now onto the master list.

✰ = angst

♡︎ = fluff

* = smut

♬ = songfic

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★

Peter Parker

Good For You. ✰ ♬

synopsis -

Peter is struggling to balance his personal life and is failing miserably. His friends and aunt are tired of him letting them down, and it has come to a breaking point.

Inspired by Good for You from Dear Evan Hansen.

Maybe. ✰ ♬

Synopsis -

You're Tony Stark's daughter, and you and Peter Parker have broken up. You find yourself hung up on the maybes you could have had with him.

Inspired by Maybe by Gabriella Bee

When you know, you know. ♡︎ ♬

Synopsis -

Peter Parker sees you at a coffee shop and knows you're the one he's meant to be with.

Inspired by Margaret by Lana Del Rey

Don't push it, Parker. ︎♡ ✰ ︎♬

Synopsis -

You and Peter attend couples counseling, thinking it will be useful for both of you, and you end up at least halfway on the same page.

Inspired by Therapy from Tick Tick.. Boom!

Just.. Make it up to me later. ︎♡

Synopsis -

Peter Parker tends to be late to dates, but you don't mind as long as he makes it up to you later.

Waste of champagne. ︎♬

Synopsis -

Being the child of a man like Tony Stark means you were practically raised at high-society parties, so of course, you don't mind showing Peter how to fit into the "Stark lifestyle."

Inspired by new money from The Great Gatsby

Now that we don't talk. ✰ ♬

Synopsis -

Peter Parker has abandoned you and Ned for his new Stark internship, and you've had enough of his secretive life.

Inspired by Now that we don't talk by Taylor Swift

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★

Tony Stark

The bolter. ✰ ♬

Synopsis -

You meet Tony Stark at a party and refuse to be one of his one-night flings, causing him to completely fall for you and make you his world.

Inspired by The Bolter by Taylor Swift

That killer instinct. ✰ ♬

Synopsis -

As Tony Stark's daughter, you may have learned a couple of skills from his cutthroat business days and used them to become the head cheerleader.

Inspired by Killer instinct from bring it on

I'm sorry Daddy. ✰

Synopsis -

You resembled your father in every way growing up, and now, in your teenage years, you've adopted his partying habits as well, becoming just as out of control as he was.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★

[worldsmessiestwriter]

Waste of champagne.

tw - nothing

word count - 1,179

Peter Parker x Stark! Reader

—————————————————————————

The grand ballroom of Stark Tower sparkled with opulence—glittering chandeliers overhead, rich gold and silver decor, and an endless sea of elegantly dressed people. The music was sophisticated, the air thick with conversation and champagne bubbles. It was a world Peter Parker had never imagined himself in, let alone one he found himself stumbling through like a deer in headlights.

“Relax, Parker,” Y/N Stark said, flashing him a teasing smile as she tugged him deeper into the crowd. She looked completely at home in a sparkling, floor-length dress that shimmered like liquid silver. The way she moved was so effortless, as though this world was where she belonged. Every step she took had purpose, every word dripped with confidence. She was the epitome of someone who had grown up with wealth and knew how to wield it like a weapon.

Peter, on the other hand, felt more like a fish out of water in his borrowed tuxedo. The fit was a little off, his hair stubbornly unruly under the slicked-back style she insisted on, and his tie felt like it might strangle him at any moment.

“I swear, I’m going to embarrass myself,” Peter muttered, looking around at the impeccably dressed guests.

“Oh, you absolutely will,” Y/N said, not missing a beat. “But that’s part of the charm, right? Just own it.” She glanced over her shoulder at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “This is how the other half lives, Parker. Pay attention.”

Peter was still trying to figure out how he’d gone from getting pizza with his friends to being at a Stark gala. Y/N had promised to teach him the ropes of high society, but it felt like he was in over his head. He wasn’t used to all the glitz and glam, the smiles that didn’t quite reach people’s eyes, and the way the air seemed so thick with unspoken rules.

They passed a group of older men gambling, all dressed in sharp suits, and Y/N’s presence immediately drew their attention. Peter was still trying to keep his composure when one of them, a tall, well-groomed man with a smile that was a little too wide, approached them.

“Well, well, Y/N Stark,” the man said smoothly, eyeing her up and down in a way that made Peter feel distinctly uncomfortable. “You look ravishing, as always. Care to… blow on my dice?” He held out a pair of golden dice, a cocky grin plastered on his face.

Peter’s eyes widened.

Y/N didn’t even flinch. She smiled that same dazzling, effortless smile and smoothly replied, “Are you kidding?”

Without another word, she grabbed Peter’s arm and turned away from the man, leading him through the crowd as he sputtered behind them. Peter looked at her, stunned.

“Did you just—?”

“Parker,” Y/N interrupted, arching an eyebrow. “You’ll get used to it. At these parties, guys think they can make a move on anyone who looks like they know how to have fun. You can’t let them get under your skin.”

Peter gaped at her. “I—no, I can’t believe that just happened.”

“Like I said, this world is a game, Parker,” Y/N said, her voice smooth. “You have to play it right, or else you’ll get swallowed up.” She paused, a smile curling at her lips. “I’m sure Tony would’ve told you that, but I don’t think he has the patience to explain all the nuances.”

Peter glanced across the room, spotting Tony Stark in his usual element—leaning against a column, champagne in hand, surrounded by people fawning over him. Tony gave them a quick, casual wave when he saw them approach.

“There’s my dad,” Y/N said with a smirk, like she didn’t have a care in the world. “You know, he might be the most famous man in the room, but he’s never actually here. He knows how to throw a party and still make an exit.” She nodded toward the far corner of the room, where a group of celebrities were laughing a little too loudly. “He’s probably already plotting the next one.”

Peter shook his head. “How does he do that? It’s like he owns the whole place.”

Y/N smiled, the expression almost fond. “He does. And you know what he’d say?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “ ‘Who throws a party and doesn’t attend? That’s a waste of champagne.’ ”

Peter chuckled despite himself. “So you’re telling me my first lesson in high society is to throw a party, leave, and call it a success?”

“Exactly,” Y/N replied. “And while you’re at it, don’t forget rule number two: Always look like you belong. Because in a room like this, if you act like you fit in, people will believe you do. You know, I like large parties. They’re so intimate.”

Peter blinked. “Intimate? There’s like a hundred people in here.”

“At small parties,” Y/N continued, “there isn’t any privacy. You can’t disappear at a small gathering. Everyone’s all over each other, always watching, always asking questions.” She gave a little shrug. “But here? People forget you’re even in the room.”

Peter thought about that for a moment. “I guess I can kind of see that.”

“Of course you can,” she said with a smirk. “You’re a Stark, too. You just need a little polish. But we’ll get there.” She tugged at his sleeve, leading him toward a table laden with hors d’oeuvres. “For now, I’ll teach you the most important thing about parties like this—don’t get stuck with one conversation for too long. It’s like the buffet. A little of everything. But not too much.”

Peter laughed, feeling the pressure in his chest start to ease. “Okay, I think I’m starting to get it.”

“Good. Because there’s a lot more to learn.”

And just as she said that, a new wave of guests arrived, a few more well-dressed men catching Y/N’s eye. Peter could see how they fawned over her, but Y/N remained the picture of cool indifference. They made their introductions, the guys stumbling over themselves to talk to her, but she deftly avoided their advances with the precision of a seasoned pro.

Peter couldn’t help but be impressed by how effortlessly she handled it all. She didn’t even break a sweat as she led him back to the center of the room, where Tony was already waving them over.

“See?” Y/N whispered to Peter with a grin. “This is how you do it. Just remember, you don’t have to be anyone you’re not. You just have to own the part you’re playing.”

Peter nodded, trying to soak in everything she was teaching him, and for the first time that night, he felt like maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t completely out of his depth.

After all, he had Y/N Stark as his teacher. And if anyone knew how to conquer a party, it was her.

—————————————————————————

[worldsmessiestwriter]

hey so how do you think Peter parker would deal with a s/o, who doesn’t have the same personality as him, but kind of is on the same wavelength as him in life. Doesn’t know he is a super hero, but weirdly understanding about him being busy. Like sometimes he has to cancel and s/o’s like “it’s ok, but you are so totally making this up to me”. S/o fully expects him too. Sometimes, s/o cancels cuz friend/fam/work emergency and is like “I’ll make this up to you”. And s/o actually does. Meanwhile, whenever he’s late, s/o sasses him about it, but there is no hard feelings cuz s/o is happy he turned up. Sometimes s/o is late too. (He is more late than her). S/o’s attitude is “ we’re both adults. We both got lives outside of each other”?

Just.. make it up to me later.

tw - none

word count - 647

Peter Parker x Reader

——————————————————

Peter Parker sprinted down the dimly lit streets of Queens, his breath coming out in short, sharp bursts as he ducked into an alley. He yanked off his mask, stuffing it into his backpack before tugging his hoodie up over his head. His sneakers squeaked against the pavement as he rounded the corner to his girlfriend Y/N’s apartment building.

He was thirty-two minutes late. Not his worst record, but far from ideal.

By the time he reached her door, Peter was panting and disheveled. He raised a hand to knock, only for the door to swing open before he could.

Y/N stood in the doorway, one eyebrow raised and arms crossed over her chest. She looked him up and down, taking in the tousled hair, the faint smudge of dirt on his cheek, and the slight tear in his hoodie. “Let me guess,” she said dryly. “A bus broke down, you had to help an old lady cross the street, and then you tripped over a curb?”

Peter blinked. “Uh… pretty close, actually.”

Y/N smirked, stepping aside to let him in. “You’re so predictable.”

“I really am sorry I’m late,” he said earnestly, leaning against the kitchen counter as she closed the door. “Something came up.”

“Something always comes up, Pete,” she replied, grabbing two mugs from the cabinet. She didn’t sound angry, just resigned in the way someone who had accepted Peter’s chronic lateness would. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

Peter winced. “That’s not really a great thing to hear.”

She shot him a look over her shoulder, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Relax. You’re here now, and that’s what counts. But you are making this up to me.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Of course I am. Dinner? Movie? A full day of me groveling at your feet?”

“Dinner and a movie,” she said, setting the mugs on the counter and pouring them both tea. “And I get to pick.”

“Deal,” Peter said quickly.

Y/N handed him a mug, her lips quirking into a smile. “I’m not mad, you know. You’re busy, I get it. We’re both adults. We’ve got lives outside of this.”

Peter’s heart swelled at her words. She was so… understanding. More than he deserved, honestly.

Still, guilt gnawed at him. She didn’t know about Spider-Man. She didn’t know that his constant tardiness, last-minute cancellations, and vague excuses were because he was out saving the city. And yet, she trusted him.

“So, what’s my makeup plan?” she asked, leaning against the counter beside him and taking a sip of her tea.

“Well,” Peter began, glancing at her with a sheepish smile, “I was thinking—”

Before he could finish, her phone buzzed on the counter. Y/N glanced at the screen and groaned. “It’s my sister,” she said, putting the mug down. “She probably needs help with the baby again.”

Peter waved a hand. “Go. It’s fine.”

Y/N frowned. “But we just got here—”

“Y/N, seriously, it’s okay,” Peter interrupted, his tone firm but gentle. “Family comes first. Just… make it up to me later.” He shot her a playful grin.

Her lips curved into a smile, and she leaned up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “You’re the best.”

“And don’t you forget it,” he called after her as she grabbed her coat and headed out the door.

Peter stood alone in her apartment, sipping his tea and smiling to himself.

He didn’t know how they made it work, this balancing act of two lives constantly in motion but Peter couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.

—————————————————————————

ahhh first request done yay!! what a fun lil fluffy fic to write <33

[worldsmessiestwriter]

When you know, you know.

tw - none just pure fluff

word count - 1,415

Peter Parker x Reader

——————————————————



It happened on a Thursday.

Peter Parker wasn’t expecting his life to change that day. He’d spent the afternoon helping May rearrange furniture in her apartment, then swung by the library to grab some books for a physics project. Nothing out of the ordinary.

But as he rounded the corner outside the coffee shop near Midtown High, he saw her.

She was sitting at one of the outdoor tables, a notebook open in front of her, her pen tapping absently against her lip as she stared off into the distance. The late afternoon sun caught in her hair, turning it to gold, and for a moment, Peter forgot how to breathe.

He didn’t know her, but something in his chest tightened, a pull so strong it stopped him in his tracks.

That’s her, a quiet voice in his mind whispered. That’s the one.

Peter spent the next week thinking about her. He didn’t even know her name, but she was burned into his mind like a photograph. Every time he walked past that coffee shop, he looked for her.

And then, on Monday, there she was again.

He almost walked past her, afraid of doing something stupid. But something about her—her calm focus, the way her head tilted slightly as she read—drew him closer. Before he realized it, he was standing next to her table.

“Uh, hi,” he said awkwardly, his palms sweating. “Is this seat taken?”

She looked up, startled. Her eyes met his, and Peter felt like the ground had shifted beneath him.

“No,” she said after a moment, her voice soft. “Go ahead.”

They talked for hours.

Her name was Y/N L/N, and she was working on a paper for her literature class. She liked poetry, old movies, and walking in the rain. She had a sharp sense of humor and a way of tilting her head when she was curious that made Peter’s heart race.

“You’re really into this superhero stuff, huh?” she teased, gesturing to the Spider-Man keychain on his backpack.

Peter rubbed the back of his neck, laughing nervously. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. He’s… kind of a role model, you know?”

“Hmm,” she said thoughtfully. “I think Spider-Man’s great, but I bet the person behind the mask is even better.”

Peter blinked, caught off guard. “What makes you say that?”

She shrugged, a small smile playing at her lips. “Just a feeling.”

That night, Peter lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. He’d always been skeptical of things like fate or destiny, but meeting Y/N felt… different. Like the universe had nudged him in her direction and said, Pay attention. This is important.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her laugh, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about the things she loved, the way she’d said goodbye with a soft smile and a promise to see him again soon.

For the first time in a long time, Peter felt like maybe he didn’t have to carry the weight of the world alone.

They kept meeting at the coffee shop, and each time, Peter fell a little harder. He told her about his love for science, his dreams of making a difference. She told him about her favorite books, her plans to travel someday.

With her, Peter felt like he could be himself—not just Spider-Man, not just the nerdy kid from Queens, but all of him.

One evening, as they walked through the park, Peter found himself blurting out the thought that had been circling his mind for weeks.

“I think I was meant to meet you,” he said, his voice quiet but certain.

Y/N looked at him, her eyes wide. “What?”

“I don’t know how to explain it,” he continued, his cheeks flushing. “But from the moment I saw you, I just… I knew. Like you were supposed to be in my life.”

She stared at him for a moment, then smiled—a smile so warm it made his chest ache.

“Maybe I was,” she said softly.

Peter took her hand, his fingers lacing with hers, and for the first time, he felt like everything was exactly where it was supposed to be.

Because with her, it was.

Peter didn’t usually believe in fairy tales. Life as Spider-Man had taught him that happy endings were rare, and nothing ever came easy. But as he walked through the park with Y/N’s hand in his, he couldn’t help but feel like he’d stumbled into one.

The two of them stopped by the fountain, the soft glow of the streetlights reflecting in the water. Peter glanced at her, watching the way the breeze played with her hair and the way her lips curved into a small smile.

“You’re staring,” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

Peter flushed and looked away, a shy grin tugging at his lips. “Sorry. It’s just… I don’t know. You’re kind of hard not to look at.”

Y/N laughed, and Peter thought it might be his new favorite sound.

The days turned into weeks, and Peter and Y/N fell into an easy rhythm. He found himself rushing through patrol just so he could see her, and she started bringing an extra coffee to their meetings, claiming she’d “accidentally” ordered two.

For the first time, Peter felt like he had something just for himself—something not tied to the weight of the world or his responsibilities as Spider-Man. Y/N didn’t know his secret yet, but she seemed to sense the heaviness in him anyway.

One day, as they sat on the grass in Central Park, she turned to him and asked, “What’s on your mind, Peter?”

He hesitated, staring down at the blades of grass between his fingers. “It’s… complicated.”

Y/N shifted closer, her hand resting lightly on his. “I like complicated.”

Peter glanced at her, searching her face for any sign that she might back away. But all he saw was patience and understanding, and it gave him the courage to say the words he’d been holding back.

That night, on the rooftop of her apartment building, Peter told her everything.

“I’m Spider-Man,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He braced himself for her reaction—fear, disbelief, maybe even anger.

But Y/N didn’t flinch. She didn’t run. Instead, she reached out and touched his hand, grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected.

“I figured,” she said softly, a small smile playing on her lips.

Peter blinked. “You… figured?”

“Come on, Peter,” she teased gently. “You disappear all the time, you’re weirdly good at dodging things, and you have a Spider-Man keychain on your backpack.”

Peter let out a breathless laugh, relief flooding through him. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I figured you’d tell me when you were ready,” she said, her eyes warm.

Peter stared at her, overwhelmed by the weight of her trust. “You’re… okay with this? With me?”

“Of course I am,” she said simply. “I liked you before I knew you were Spider-Man. And now? I like you even more.”

For the first time in a long time, Peter felt like he could breathe.

From that moment on, things changed. Y/N became his confidant, his anchor, the person he turned to when the world felt too heavy. She patched him up after fights, helped him brainstorm solutions to problems, and even gave him a hard time when he pushed himself too far.

“You’re not invincible, Parker,” she scolded one night, dabbing antiseptic on a cut on his cheek.

“I’m Spider-Man,” he said with a grin, wincing as the antiseptic stung.

“Exactly,” she shot back. “Not Iron Man.”

Peter chuckled, leaning into her touch. “Yes, ma’am.”

One evening, as they sat on her fire escape watching the city lights, Y/N turned to him, her expression serious.

“Do you ever wish things were… different?” she asked.

Peter thought about it for a moment, his gaze fixed on the skyline. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But if things were different, I might not have met you.”

She smiled, leaning her head against his shoulder. “You’re such a sap, Parker.”

“Only for you,” he said softly, his hand finding hers.

And in that moment, as the city hummed around them and the stars blinked faintly above, Peter knew one thing for certain:

He might not have chosen this life, but he’d choose Y/N a thousand times over.

—————————————————————————

[worldsmessiestwriter]

Maybe.

tw - heartbreak :(

word count - 959

Peter Parker x Stark! Reader

—————————————————————————

The Stark Tower was usually buzzing with life—Tony in his lab tinkering with his latest invention, the Avengers dropping in and out between missions, and Y/N Stark doing her best to keep up with the chaos. But ever since the breakup, the Tower had felt… quieter.

At least for her.

Peter Parker had a talent for avoiding her, and he did it so well she sometimes wondered if he was using his Spider-Man stealth just to dodge her presence.

Case in point: earlier that day, she’d walked into the kitchen to grab coffee and found him already there. He had been mid-sip when their eyes met, and before she could even muster a “hey,” he mumbled something about needing to fix something for Tony and bolted.

It hurt.

It wasn’t like Y/N wanted to hash things out or relive their breakup. She just… missed him. She missed their late-night talks about everything and nothing, his dumb science jokes, the way his hand always found hers when they watched movies on the couch.

But now? He was practically a ghost.

That night, Y/N sat curled up on the couch in the common area, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders as she stared out the window at the city lights. Her laptop sat open next to her, but she couldn’t focus on anything.

Her mind wandered, as it so often did these days, to the “what-ifs.”

Maybe I’ll see him at Christmas, she thought, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. Maybe he’ll walk in, all awkward and fidgety, and we’ll laugh like none of this ever happened. Maybe things could go back to the way they were.

She pictured him sitting across from her at the Stark family Christmas dinner, nervously chatting with Pepper while Tony teased him about his haircut. She could almost hear the sound of his laugh, feel the warmth of his hand brushing against hers under the table.

But the image dissolved as quickly as it came, leaving a hollow ache in its place.

Maybe I’ll see him at New Year’s, she thought. Maybe he’ll show up just before midnight, and we’ll accidentally find ourselves standing under the same mistletoe. And maybe…

She shook her head, wiping at her eyes. “Get a grip, Y/N,” she muttered to herself.

Over the next few days, Y/N threw herself into anything that could distract her—helping Pepper plan an event, running errands for Tony, even taking up one of Natasha’s grueling training routines. But no matter how busy she kept herself, the fantasies found her.

Maybe one day I’ll get married, she thought one night as she flipped through an old photo album. She imagined Peter standing at the mic during her wedding toast, his voice cracking as he told a story about how stubborn she was, making everyone laugh and cry in the same breath. She imagined catching her dad wiping away tears—a rare sight.

Maybe our kids will be best friends, she mused the next day, watching Morgan Stark play with her dolls. She pictured Peter’s child—a little boy with his curly hair and curious brown eyes—sitting next to her own, their heads bent together as they built LEGO towers in the living room.

Maybe we’d live down the street from each other, she thought wistfully. Maybe we’d wave hello every morning and share coffee on lazy Sundays, like nothing had ever gone wrong.

The “maybes” wouldn’t leave her alone, no matter how much she tried to push them away.

The final straw came when Y/N walked into the lab one evening and found Peter working quietly at one of the stations. He was wearing the same hoodie she used to borrow, his hair a little messy like it always got when he was focused.

He didn’t notice her at first, but when she cleared her throat, he froze.

“Oh,” he said, standing up straight. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi,” she replied softly.

An awkward silence filled the room, and Y/N could feel the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on her.

“I…” She hesitated, her fingers curling into the hem of her sweater. “I feel like I should say something, but I don’t know what.”

Peter’s eyes flicked to hers, and for the first time in weeks, she saw a flicker of the boy she used to know. “I know what you mean,” he said quietly.

They stood there for a moment, the distance between them feeling both too small and too vast.

“I miss you,” Y/N blurted out, the words tumbling from her lips before she could stop them.

Peter’s eyes softened, and he took a small step closer. “I miss you too.”

Her heart ached at his confession, but it wasn’t enough to bridge the gap. Not yet.

“Do you ever think about… us?” she asked hesitantly.

“All the time,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes I think about what could’ve been, and it kills me. But then I think about how I hurt you, and—”

“You didn’t hurt me,” she interrupted, her voice breaking. “I mean, yeah, it hurt, but… I don’t regret us. Not for a second.”

Peter looked at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read—hopeful, regretful, and something else she didn’t dare name.

“Maybe,” he said softly, “someday we can figure it out.”

Y/N swallowed hard, blinking back tears. “Maybe.”

He gave her a small, sad smile, and then, just like always, he left.

That night, as Y/N sat alone in her room, she thought about his words. Maybe someday. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep her going.

——————————————————

[worldsmessiestwriter]

That Killer instinct.

tw - swearing?

word count - 1,306

Tony stark x Daughter! reader

inspired by killer instinct from bring it on

——————————————————

Y/N Stark practically skipped through the door, her energy filling the space as she rushed into the workshop. Tony was hunched over a project, his tools scattered around him, but the second he heard her footsteps, he looked up with a grin, glad to see his daughter in one piece.

“Hey, kid. How was school today?” Tony asked, his voice light but tinged with that typical dad curiosity. He loved hearing about Y/N’s day.

Y/N bounced into the room, practically vibrating with excitement. “Dad! I did it!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with pride. “I’m head cheerleader now!”

Tony paused, his tools still in hand. He sat up straighter, surprised by the announcement. “Whoa, seriously? Head cheerleader? That’s awesome! I mean, I knew you’d make something happen, but this… this is next-level. You know, I was the king of the school for a reason, kid.”

She flashed him a wide grin, obviously proud of herself. “I know, right? And it was so easy, Dad. It was like everything just fell into place.”

Tony leaned back in his chair, still smiling, but curiosity tugged at him. “Tell me everything. How’d you pull it off?”

Y/N hesitated for a split second before she casually flopped down on the couch, kicking her feet up on the coffee table. “Okay, so it started with Cameron right? She was in line to be the head cheerleader. Been working her whole life for it. But, she had that D in chemistry, and I just—well, I tweaked it. You know, a little software update here, a little school system adjustment there…”

Tony’s smile faltered as the pieces of the story began to fall into place. “Wait, you hacked the school system?”

Y/N gave him a sweet, innocent look. “Just a little thing, no harm done. Cameron had no business being captain anyway. D’s are for losers. So, I made sure she was out of the picture.”

“Y/N…” Tony began, rubbing his temple in frustration. “You can’t just mess with people’s lives like that. That’s not how you—”

She cut him off with a nonchalant wave of her hand, her voice still light and peppy. “Oh, Dad, relax. It was just a minor thing. It’s all part of the plan. Anyway, after Cameron ? I had to deal with Abbie. She thought she had it in the bag, too, but she wasn’t quite prepared for what I had up my sleeve.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “What did you do to Abbie?”

Y/N’s grin widened, a playful yet almost predatory glint in her eyes. “Well, I hired this guy… you know, give her a little gift—a lovely case of mono. Totally took her out for the week, so she couldn’t even tryout. Now guess who’s the head cheerleader?”

Tony’s jaw dropped, and for a long moment, he couldn’t find the words. His daughter, the one he’d raised and hoped would take the moral high ground, had taken a shortcut straight to the top, and it wasn’t pretty.

“You didn’t—” Tony started, but Y/N was practically gleaming now, practically glowing with pride as she continued her story.

“Yeah, I did. And now, no one’s in my way. The seniors all think I’m amazing. They kiss my ass, and I’m just sixteen! I’m the girl to beat, Dad. I’m winning.” Her voice was sugary sweet, but there was an edge to it. A fierceness that matched the deadly precision of her methods. “I’m raising hell dad, I’m totally untouchable!”

Tony stared at her, trying to process the words that were coming out of her mouth. His daughter, the head cheerleader—the head cheerleader—was a mastermind of manipulation and underhanded tactics. His thoughts raced, but all he could manage was a frustrated sigh.

“Y/N, you can’t just—this isn’t some game you can play however you want,” he said, standing up from his chair, his voice low and serious now. “You’re talking about taking down people—changing their lives, getting them sick… this isn’t how you build something. You have to earn things the right way.”

Y/N crossed her arms and kicked her legs up a bit more, a little smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Dad, I did earn it. I did whatever it took, just like you always say. Get to the top, or get out of the way. Don’t you always talk about how it’s a dog-eat-dog world? This is how the world works. If someone’s in my way, I just take ‘em out.”

Tony’s expression tightened. He could see how she justified it in her mind, but it wasn’t what he’d meant when he’d taught her to fight for what she wanted. This was more than ambition—this was ruthlessness.

“I know what I taught you,” Tony said quietly, stepping closer to her. “But there’s a difference between fighting for what you deserve and just cutting down anyone in your way to get what you want. You can’t just step on people to win, Y/N. You have to consider the cost of what you’re doing.”

Y/N’s smile didn’t waver, but there was a small flicker of doubt in her eyes. “Dad, you said it yourself—if you’re not first, you’re last. I don’t care about the cost. I care about being the best. And right now, I’m the best.”

Tony sighed again, rubbing his temples as he paced in front of her. “It’s not about being the best, kid. It’s about who you are when you get there. You can be the top dog all you want, but if you’re stepping on people to get there, what does that say about you? You won’t have anyone left when you’re at the top. That’s the cost. The price of all this ambition.” He gestured around, trying to make her see the bigger picture. “Do you really want to be known as the girl who would do anything—anything—to be at the top, no matter who you hurt?”

Y/N paused, chewing on her bottom lip for a moment as she glanced at her dad. She could see the concern in his eyes, the disappointment that was starting to show in his expression, and it gave her pause for just a second. But then the smile returned to her face, and she shrugged.

“I get what you’re saying, but I don’t think I’m doing anything wrong, Dad. I’m winning.” Her voice had a sharpness to it, one that didn’t match the cheerfulness in her tone. “This is how it’s done. And I’m ready to take on anything.”

Tony closed his eyes, swallowing his frustration. He knew she was clever—too clever for her own good sometimes. He just hoped she’d realize one day that there was more to success than simply being on top.

“Well, I guess we’ll see how long that lasts, huh?” he said, his voice softening. “But just remember: the way you get to the top will follow you. It’s not always about being the fastest, or the strongest… it’s about being the right kind of person.”

Y/N grinned, clearly unbothered, and shrugged once again. “I’ll keep that in mind, Dad. But right now, I’m the head cheerleader, and that’s all that matters.”

Tony’s heart sank, but he gave her a small, resigned smile. “Yeah, you sure are kid.” He turned back to his workbench, feeling both proud and disappointed in the same breath.

——————————————————

i’m on a roll with the musical songfics guys be proud to be fair i’ve been writing these over the past week im not that fast of a writer 🙏😭

[worldsmessiestwriter]

Don’t push it, Parker.

tw - none i know shocking.

word count - 1,075

Peter Parker x Reader

! both aged up ¡

inspired by therapy from tick tick… boom!

—————————————————————————

The office was cozy in a way that was trying way too hard to be cozy. A mismatched couch sat in the center of the room, flanked by bookshelves crammed with self-help titles and a fake plant that screamed, “I give up.” The wall art didn’t help—abstract swirls that might have been flowers, or maybe angry clouds.

Peter Parker shifted uncomfortably on the couch, his knee bouncing as he avoided eye contact with the counselor. Beside him, Y/N sat stiffly, arms crossed, her head tilted ever so slightly away from him. The tension between them was so thick it practically had its own zip code.

“Well,” the counselor said brightly, sitting down in her chair with a notepad in hand. “Welcome. I’m so glad you both decided to come in. This is a safe space for you to communicate openly and work through any issues you might be having.”

Y/N let out a small, bitter laugh, clearly unenthused. “Issues? Oh no, we’re fine.”

“Right, yeah, totally fine,” Peter muttered under his breath, earning a sharp glare from Y/N.

The counselor blinked, her pen hovering over the notepad. “Okay, let’s start small. What brought you two here today?”

Y/N turned her head toward Peter with a pointed look. “Oh, should I go first, or do you want to tell her why you’re always late and can’t prioritize basic human relationships?”

Peter’s jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me right now? You know I have responsibilities!”

“Responsibilities?!” Y/N threw her hands up. “That’s your excuse for everything! Responsibilities, Peter! Every time you bail on a date, or forget to text me back, or—oh!—when you stood me up at my cousin’s wedding!”

Peter sputtered, his face turning red. “I didn’t stand you up! I told you I got caught up with—” He stopped himself, realizing he couldn’t exactly say, I was fighting the Vulture to stop him from blowing up a ferry.

“With what, Peter?” Y/N challenged, her voice rising. “Because it’s always something vague, something secret. Do you know how that feels? It’s like you’re half in this relationship and half somewhere else!”

“Oh, please!” Peter shot back, his own frustration boiling over. “What about you, huh? You’re always on my case about being ‘thoughtful’ or whatever, but when was the last time you actually said something nice to me? Or appreciated anything I do?”

Y/N gasped, her mouth opening and closing like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I do appreciate you, Peter! But how can I appreciate someone who doesn’t even show up half the time? I’m not asking for much—just a partner who acts like one!”

“Okay, okay,” the counselor interjected, holding up her hands in a calming gesture. “Let’s try to take a step back and focus on what you’re both feeling right now. Peter, Y/N—can you each express your emotions without blaming the other person?”

Peter let out a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. I feel… like I’m constantly trying to juggle everything. School, work, this relationship…” He glanced at Y/N. “And I feel like no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough for you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’m the problem now?”

“That’s not what I said!” Peter snapped.

“You implied it!”

“Guys,” the counselor said, her voice firm but gentle. “Let’s focus on the feelings, not the accusations.”

Y/N crossed her arms again, leaning back into the couch. “Fine. I feel… unimportant. Like I’m always second place in Peter’s life. Like I’m not allowed to be upset because his responsibilities are more important than I am.”

Peter frowned, the guilt flashing across his face. “That’s not true. You’re not second place. You’re—”

“Then act like it!” Y/N burst out, her voice cracking slightly.

Peter opened his mouth, then closed it, struggling to find the right words. The room fell into an awkward silence, broken only by the sound of the counselor scribbling on her notepad.

“Okay,” she said, her tone measured. “It sounds like you’re both feeling unheard and unappreciated. These are common challenges in relationships, and they can feel overwhelming. But let’s try something. A little exercise in communication.”

“Oh, great,” Y/N said sarcastically, gesturing dramatically. “Because we’re so good at communicating.”

Peter gave her a look. “Can you not?”

“Can you not?” she shot back.

The counselor raised an eyebrow but soldiered on. “I want you each to take turns expressing something you appreciate about the other person. And it can’t be sarcastic,” she added pointedly, cutting off Peter before he could respond.

Y/N sighed heavily, slumping further into the couch. “Fine. Peter, I appreciate… that you try. Sometimes.”

“Wow, thanks,” Peter muttered.

The counselor cleared her throat.

“Okay, okay!” Y/N said quickly, holding up her hands. “I appreciate that you’re passionate about helping people.”

Peter softened slightly, though he still looked annoyed. “Thank you. And… I appreciate that you’re always honest with me. Even when it’s hard to hear.”

Y/N blinked, surprised by the admission. For a moment, the tension between them seemed to ease.

The counselor smiled encouragingly. “Good. See? You’re capable of recognizing the positives in each other.”

But then Y/N, unable to resist, muttered under her breath, “Yeah, when you actually show up to something.”

Peter groaned. “Seriously? You just had to ruin it!”

“You’re the one who—”

“Okay!” the counselor interrupted, her voice louder this time. “Let’s pause there. Clearly, there’s a lot to unpack, and this is just the beginning of the process.” She glanced between the two of them, her expression calm but firm. “But I’ll say this: relationships take work. And that work starts with meeting each other halfway. If you can do that, there’s hope.”

Peter and Y/N both looked away from each other, their expressions unreadable.

As they left the office, walking in silence down the street, Peter finally spoke. “You really think I don’t care about this relationship?”

Y/N sighed, glancing at him. “I think you do, Peter. I just think you need to show it more.”

Peter nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll work on that.”

“And I’ll try to be… less snarky,” Y/N said reluctantly.

Peter smirked. “That’s gonna be tough for you.”

“Don’t push it, Parker,” she shot back, but there was a small smile on her lips.

—————————————————————————

[worldsmessiestwriter]

Good for you.

tw - you guessed it angst

word count - 1,617

peter parker x platonic! reader

inspired by good for you from dear evan hansen

—————————————————————————

The apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. Peter pushed the door open as quietly as he could, slipping inside with his backpack slung over one shoulder. The clock on the microwave read 11:52 PM. He winced.

“Peter Benjamin Parker.”

He froze, his fingers still gripping the strap of his bag. Slowly, he turned to see Aunt May standing by the counter, arms crossed tightly. She looked tired, her face lined with worry and her eyes sharper than he’d seen in a long time.

“Uh… hey, May,” Peter said weakly, shrugging out of his backpack.

“Don’t you ‘hey, May’ me,” she snapped. “Do you have any idea what time it is? You were supposed to be home for dinner. Hours ago.”

“I know,” Peter mumbled, dropping his bag by the door. “I just… something came up.”

“Something came up?” May’s voice rose, incredulous. “Something always comes up! I barely see you anymore, Peter. You’re gone all the time, and when you’re here, you’re so distracted it’s like you’re not even really here.”

“I’m busy,” Peter said, his tone defensive. “The Stark internship—”

“Oh, the internship,” May interrupted, throwing her hands up. “Of course. The holy grail of internships that takes up all your time, all your energy, and apparently, all of you.” She took a step closer, her voice softening but no less sharp. “Is it worth it, Peter? Is it really everything you thought it would be? I hope it’s giving you a world I could never provide, because I’m starting to wonder if you even care about the one you already had.”

Peter’s chest tightened, guilt swirling in his stomach. “May, that’s not fair—”

“No, what’s not fair is the way you’ve been treating me,” May interrupted, her voice breaking slightly. “I’m your aunt, Peter. I’ve been here for you through everything. And now? I don’t even know what’s going on in your life anymore. You don’t talk to me, you don’t show up for dinner—you don’t even call to let me know you’re okay.” She shook her head, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Does it ever cross your mind to be slightly sorry? Or are you too busy to care that you might be wrong?”

Peter opened his mouth, but the words died in his throat. What could he say?

“I know you think you’re doing something important,” May continued, her voice quieter now. “But all I see is my nephew running himself into the ground and pushing away the people who love him. And for what? Is it fun? Is it worth it?”

Peter’s jaw tightened. “I’m doing this for us, May,” he said, his voice trembling. “This internship… it’s a big deal. It’s a chance to make a difference.”

May’s expression softened, but the hurt didn’t leave her eyes. “You’re sixteen, Peter. You shouldn’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. I don’t care about the internship, or Stark, or any of that. I just care about you. And right now, I feel like I’m losing you.”

Her words hit Peter like a punch to the gut. He didn’t know how to respond, so he didn’t. Instead, he mumbled something about being tired and disappeared into his room, leaving May standing alone in the kitchen.

The next day, Peter was supposed to meet Ned and Y/N for a long-overdue movie night.

He knew he was already on thin ice with them. Every time they’d made plans lately, he’d had to cancel. He’d told himself this time would be different. He’d make it up to them.

But by the time 7 PM rolled around, Peter was halfway across the city, perched on a rooftop and listening to the crackle of a police scanner.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

Ned: Dude? Are you coming or what?

Peter hesitated, his fingers hovering over the screen. A few blocks away, he could hear the faint wail of a siren.

Peter: Something came up. Can’t make it. Sorry.

He didn’t wait for a response.

Back at Y/N’s house, Ned let out a loud, frustrated groan, tossing his phone onto the coffee table.

“I can’t believe this,” he said, crossing his arms. “Again? Really?”

Y/N sat on the couch, their arms wrapped around their knees. They stared at the darkened screen of their phone, the weight of Peter’s absence settling heavily in their chest. “What did he say?”

Ned snorted. “The same thing he always says. ‘Something came up.’”

Y/N clenched their jaw, the frustration bubbling over into anger. “Does he even care anymore? Or are we just supposed to sit here and wait for him to decide we’re worth his time again?”

“Apparently, Stark is giving him everything we can’t,” Ned said bitterly. “I hope he’s proud of his big decision, because it’s obviously more important than us.”

Y/N stood abruptly, pacing the room. “You know what the worst part is? I’ve been trying to be understanding. I’ve been telling myself, ‘He’s busy, he’s stressed, it’s not personal.’ But maybe it is personal. Maybe he doesn’t care.” They stopped, turning to Ned. “Does it ever cross his mind to be slightly sorry? Does he even realize how much he’s hurting us?”

Ned sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know. But you know what? I hope he’s having the time of his life. I hope he’s having a blast while he drags us along.”

Peter arrived hours later, climbing through Y/N’s bedroom window. He thought about knocking on the front door like a normal person, but he wasn’t sure he could face Y/N’s parents—not after standing them up again.

He found Y/N and Ned in the living room, the credits of The Empire Strikes Back rolling on the screen. Both of them turned when they heard him.

“Hey,” Peter said hesitantly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Ned didn’t even try to hide his annoyance. “Wow. Look who finally decided to show up.”

Peter winced. “I’m sorry. I got caught up in—”

“Let me guess,” Y/N interrupted, their tone sharp. “Stark internship stuff?”

Peter hesitated, guilt weighing heavily on his chest. “Yeah.”

Y/N let out a bitter laugh, shaking their head. “Of course it was. Because it’s always the internship. You’ve been ditching us for weeks, Peter. Do we even matter to you anymore?”

“Of course you matter!” Peter said, his voice rising. “You don’t understand—”

“Then make us understand!” Y/N interrupted, their voice trembling. “Because right now, it feels like you’ve already made your choice. And it’s not us.”

Peter looked between them, his heart sinking. He wanted to explain, to tell them everything, but he couldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ned stood, grabbing his jacket. “Yeah, well, good for you, Peter. I hope it was worth it.”

Y/N didn’t say anything as Ned walked out. They just stared at Peter, their eyes filled with a mixture of hurt and anger.

Peter wanted to say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t come.

“just.. go home, Peter,” Y/N said quietly.

And this time, Peter didn’t argue.

—————————————————————————

i’m a sucker for a musical theatre song fic yall ✊

[worldsmessiestwriter]

The bolter.

tony stark x reader

tw - mentions of drinking and OF COURSE angst

inspired by The bolter by taylor swift

word count - 1,009

—————————————————————————

Tony Stark was a legend even before he became Iron Man. A billionaire, a genius, a playboy who could charm his way into or out of anything. And you? You were no different.

You saw him across the room at some over-the-top gala—his grin as sharp as the cut of his tuxedo, a glass of scotch swirling in his hand. He was surrounded by a circle of sycophants, women who would do anything to catch his eye. But when Tony saw you, he stilled.

You knew what he wanted before he even opened his mouth. Men like Tony were easy to read. He was a hunter, a cad, someone who saw a challenge and couldn’t help but chase it. And you? You certainly loved being chased.

It didn’t take long.

“You know, most people here are trying to impress me,” he said when he finally approached you.

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “And here I thought most people were trying to avoid the Stark ego.”

That got a laugh out of him, a real one, and for the first time, Tony Stark looked like he might not have all the answers.

“Well, I like you already,” he said, his voice low and warm. “What’s your name?”

You gave him a slight smirk. “What’s yours?”

He grinned. “Oh, I’m going to like you a lot.”

Tony didn’t know what hit him.

You played the game better than he did—meeting his flirty comments with razor-sharp comebacks, making him chase you in a way he wasn’t used to. He wasn’t the one calling the shots anymore, and he loved it.

He sent you flowers, only for you to send them back. He invited you to dinner, and you told him you’d “think about it.” When you finally showed up, you wore a dress that left him speechless.

It wasn’t just physical, though that was part of it. No, Tony was falling for you because you made him feel like he wasn’t Tony Stark, billionaire playboy. He was just… Tony.

And he didn’t realize how much he needed that until he met you.

It was intoxicating, watching him change. You loved the way his bravado cracked when you teased him, the way he softened when you leaned into him just so. You loved knowing that you could tame the bear, make him care, even though you knew it couldn’t last.

Because for all the glitter and glamor, Tony Stark was still a playboy at heart. And you? You were just the bolter.

He told you he loved you one night, his voice uncharacteristically soft. You’d been sitting on his balcony, the Malibu air cool against your skin.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about anyone,” he admitted, looking at you like you were his whole world.

Your chest tightened, but you forced a smile. “That’s sweet, Tony.”

He frowned. “Sweet? That’s all you’ve got?”

“What do you want me to say?” you asked, standing and wrapping your arms around yourself. “That I love you too?”

“Do you?”

You didn’t answer, and the silence was deafening.

The night you left, he was waiting for you in the bedroom, a bottle of wine and two glasses on the bedside table. He’d been planning to whisk you away to some private island for the weekend—something romantic, something for just the two of you.

But when you walked in, suitcase in hand, he froze.

“You’re leaving,” he said, his voice flat.

“I can’t stay,” you replied, avoiding his eyes.

“Why not? You’re scared, is that it?” His tone was sharper now, his words cutting. “You don’t think I’m serious? That this—us—means anything?”

“Tony, don’t do this,” you said, your voice trembling.

“Why not?” he snapped, stepping closer. “You want to run, fine. But don’t expect me to just smile and let you go.”

You turned to leave, but his voice stopped you cold.

“You’re just like the rest of them, aren’t you?” he said, his voice bitter. “Here I was, thinking you were different. That you actually cared. But no, you just wanted to see if you could break me. Well, congratulations. You win.”

His words hit you like a slap, but you didn’t turn around. You couldn’t.

“Goodbye, Tony,” you whispered, and then you left, the sound of the door slamming behind you echoing in your chest.

You thought about him more than you wanted to admit. The way he smiled, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered. You hated yourself for missing him, for wanting to go back, but you knew you couldn’t.

Tony Stark deserved someone who could love him the way he loved them. And you? You weren’t that person.

For months, you stayed away. You heard whispers about him in the news—his partying, his drinking, the way he seemed to spiral. You told yourself it wasn’t your fault.

But late at night, when the world was quiet, you could still hear his voice, the pain in it as he called after you.

“You’re just like the rest of them.”

And for the first time in your life, you wished you didn't leave.

—————————————————————————

[worldsmessiestwriter]

most important part of the writing process actually is when you loop a single song on max volume and stare at the word document and imagine the characters doing things for 14 hours. this is known as getting in the zone

[worldsmessiestwriter]

[worldsmessiestwriter]

Now that we don’t talk.

peter parker x reader

word count - 3,413

tw - just angst :)

a lil inspired by the taylor swift song of the same name

—————————————————————————

Peter, Ned, and Y/N had been best friends all throughout middle school and now high school. They were complete nerds, spending most nights at Peter’s house studying and watching Star Wars movies together. Tonight was one of those nights.

“How many times do you think we’ve watched this now?”

You asked, your eyes still glued to the TV in fascination. No matter how many times you watched it, you still couldn’t look away—it was magical. You heard Peter let out a slight laugh at your comment. But hey, it was a valid question.

“I mean, we must hold some kind of world record, surely!”

You defended yourself against the giggles Peter was letting out.

Ned, sprawled across the beanbag chair in the corner, chimed in, “If there’s a world record for nerdiest guy to ever exist, I’m pretty sure peter win that too.” He popped a handful of popcorn into his mouth, grinning smugly.

Peter rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “It’s not nerdy; it’s… cultural appreciation,” he argued, though the teasing tone in his voice made it clear he didn’t really mind the label.

You snorted, leaning back into the couch cushions. “Cultural appreciation? Sure, Parker. That’s definitely what it is.”

Peter shot you a playful glare. “Hey, I don’t see you complaining about spending your Friday nights here!”

You smirked, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl on the coffee table. “True. I mean, where else would I get such a thrilling combination of Star Wars, Ned’s nerd facts, and you being weirdly competitive about everything?”

Ned pointed at you dramatically. “Thank you! Finally, someone says it. Peter’s, like, too competitive. Did I tell you what happened during our last Mario Kart tournament?”

Peter groaned. “Oh my god, not this again—”

“He threw the controller!” Ned interrupted, laughing. “Like, full-on threw it because I beat him at Rainbow Road. It was beautiful, really.”

You burst out laughing, picturing Peter’s exaggerated frustration. “Rainbow Road’s brutal, but come on, Peter. A controller?”

“I didn’t throw it,” Peter defended himself, though his face was turning a little red. “I… aggressively set it down. There’s a difference.”

“Yeah, okay, buddy,” Ned said, rolling his eyes.

The laughter died down as the iconic duel between Luke and Vader lit up the screen. The room went quiet.

As the movie neared its end, Peter spoke up softly. “You know, these nights are my favorite. Just us, hanging out.”

Ned nodded in agreement, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Same. Couldn’t ask for a better squad.”

Peter gave you both a sheepish grin, brushing a hand through his messy hair. “Good. Because I’m making you guys watch the prequels next.”

Ned groaned dramatically, and you threw a piece of popcorn at Peter, laughing. This was home. This was the kind of night you never wanted to end.

one year later.

You had stopped hanging around with Peter and Ned after a while. Once Peter started the Stark internship, he was never the same. He ditched Star Wars nights with excuses about being called in by Mr. Stark for urgent work. He wasn’t himself anymore. He started going to parties at Liz Allan’s house. You knew Peter had a massive crush on her since junior year, but it got under your skin nonetheless. Instead, you began hanging out with MJ. She was blunt but honest, and you appreciated that about her.

Lost in your train of thought and clearly not paying attention to your surroundings, you bumped into something—or rather, someone—and dropped all your books. You sighed, leaning down to pick them up, when you heard a familiar voice nervously stutter:

“I—I am so sorry, Y/N. I’ll get that…”

Of course, it was Peter—the one person you were actively avoiding. As he bent down to help gather the books, your eyes met his.

our breath hitched for a moment as you stared into Peter’s wide, apologetic eyes. He looked different—older, maybe a little more tired. But the awkward, nervous energy you remembered was still there.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, quickly averting your gaze and snatching up a notebook before he could. You were determined to keep this encounter as short as possible.

Peter hesitated, holding out the last of your books. “I—I didn’t mean to… you know, bump into you.”

“Yeah, I got that,” you replied curtly, standing up and dusting off your hands.

He frowned, his shoulders slumping as he rose to his feet. “Y/N, wait—can we talk? Please?”

You froze for a moment, gripping your books a little tighter. Part of you wanted to brush him off, walk away, and pretend this never happened. But another part—a quieter, angrier part—wanted answers.

“What’s there to talk about, Peter?” you said finally, your voice sharper than you intended. “You made it pretty clear where your priorities are.”

He winced, guilt flashing across his face. “That’s not fair. You know it’s not like that.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “Not like that? You ditched me , Peter. All those nights we spent together—just… gone. And for what? Parties at Liz Allan’s? Pretending to be someone you’re not?”

Peter opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He looked like he wanted to argue, but he couldn’t.

“That’s what I thought,” you said bitterly, stepping past him.

“Wait!” His voice cracked slightly as he reached for your arm, stopping you. “It’s not what you think. It’s… complicated.”

You pulled your arm back, glaring at him. “Complicated? That’s your excuse?”

“It’s the truth!” Peter’s voice was desperate now, his eyes pleading with you to understand. “I—I wanted to tell you, I swear, but I couldn’t. I still can’t. It’s not just about me, Y/N.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. Something about his tone—about the way he seemed genuinely torn—made you hesitate. But before you could respond, MJ’s voice cut through the tension.

“Y/N, you good?”

You turned to see her standing a few feet away, her sharp gaze flicking between you and Peter. She was holding her sketchbook, her expression as unreadable as ever.

“Yeah,” you said, clearing your throat and forcing yourself to sound steady. “I’m good.”

Peter looked like he wanted to say something else, but you didn’t give him the chance. You walked away, MJ falling into step beside you.

As you left, you could feel Peter’s eyes on you, and a knot tightened in your chest. You told yourself it didn’t matter. You were over it—over him.

At least, that’s what you kept trying to convince yourself.

As you and MJ walked away, the silence between you felt heavier than usual. She finally broke it, glancing at you sideways.

“You sure you’re good?” Her tone was casual, but you could tell she wasn’t buying your earlier answer.

You sighed, adjusting the stack of books in your arms. “It’s whatever,” you said, though your voice lacked conviction. “Peter and I just… aren’t friends anymore. No big deal.”

MJ raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t look like ‘no big deal.’ He seemed ready to fall apart back there.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “That’s his thing now, isn’t it? Acting like he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders.”

MJ shrugged, pushing open the library door and holding it for you. “Maybe he does. I mean, the dude’s awkward, but he’s not a bad guy. He probably had his reasons for whatever went down.”

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you dropped your books onto a nearby table and sank into a chair. MJ followed, sitting across from you and opening her sketchbook.

“Reasons or not,” you said finally, your voice quieter, “he didn’t have to shut us out. Ned and I were always there for him, and he just… threw us away like we didn’t matter.”

MJ studied you for a moment, her pencil pausing mid-sketch. “Maybe you should tell him that. Instead of, you know, glaring at him like you want him to spontaneously combust.”

You snorted despite yourself. “I don’t want him to combust. I just… don’t know if I can forgive him.”

“Fair,” MJ said, nodding. “But at least be honest about how you feel. If you don’t, it’s just gonna eat at you. Trust me.”

You opened your mouth to argue but closed it again when you realized she might have a point. Before you could dwell on it further, MJ smirked and added, “Also, if you don’t talk to him, he’s probably gonna keep lurking around like a lost puppy. It’s a little sad to watch.”

That got a laugh out of you, even though the knot in your chest still hadn’t gone away.

“Maybe,” you said vaguely, not ready to commit to anything.

MJ didn’t push further, returning her attention to her sketch. The two of you settled into a comfortable silence, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Peter—his guilty expression, the way his voice cracked when he called out to you, the words he didn’t say.

You weren’t sure what to do. But for the first time in a long time, you started to wonder if walking away from him was really what you wanted.

By the time you got home, the weight of it all was unbearable. Dropping your bag onto your bed, you flopped down next to it and stared at the ceiling. You’d spent so long convincing yourself you didn’t care about Peter Parker anymore. So why did seeing him like that make everything hurt again?

Your phone buzzed on your nightstand, snapping you out of your thoughts. You grabbed it, expecting MJ or maybe even Ned. Instead, it was Peter.

Peter Parker:

Can we please talk? I owe you an explanation.

You stared at the message, your chest tightening. He’d owed you an explanation for a long time, but now? After everything? It felt too little, too late. You locked your phone without replying, tossing it onto the bed like it was burning your hands.

The next day, you went out of your way to avoid him. You skipped your usual route to class, avoided the library, and even bailed on lunch when you spotted him sitting at a table with Ned. It wasn’t like you to run away, but you couldn’t face him. Not yet.

It worked—until the final bell rang.

You were walking to your locker when you saw him waiting there, leaning against the wall. He looked nervous, like he wasn’t sure if you were going to yell at him or bolt.

You considered bolting.

“Y/N,” he started softly as you approached. “Can I—”

“What do you want, Peter?” you cut him off, keeping your voice cold and even. You didn’t want to let him see how much he was affecting you.

He winced but didn’t back down. “I need to talk to you. Please.”

You sighed, slamming your locker shut. “About what? About how you practically ghosted me every time i wanted to hang out? Or how you suddenly had no time for me but had plenty of time for Liz?”

“That’s not fair,” Peter said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Isn’t it?” You turned to face him, anger bubbling to the surface. “You don’t get to play the victim here, Peter. You left me. You chose to leave me in the dark. And now what? You’re suddenly sorry because you feel guilty?”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, quietly, he said, “I didn’t choose to leave. I didn’t have a choice.”

You laughed bitterly. “There’s always a choice, Peter. You just didn’t choose us.”

“You don’t understand!” His voice broke, louder now, and the raw emotion in it caught you off guard. “I wanted to tell you everything, Y/N. I wanted to explain, but I couldn’t. Not without putting you in danger.”

You froze, narrowing your eyes. “Danger? What are you talking about?”

Peter hesitated, running a hand through his hair as he struggled to find the words. “It’s… it’s complicated,” he said finally, the same excuse he’d given before.

“No, Peter,” you said sharply. “What’s complicated is you shutting me out, pretending like we didn’t matter. What’s complicated is me sitting here wondering if I ever meant anything to you while you were off trying to play superhero with Tony Stark.”

His eyes widened, and you could see the panic in them. “You know?”

You blinked, your breath catching in your throat. “Wait… what?”

Peter’s face paled as he realized his slip. He opened his mouth, scrambling for something to say, but it was too late. Everything clicked in your mind—the mysterious absences, the injuries he tried to hide, the excuses that never quite made sense.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, stepping back. “You’re… you’re Spider-Man?”

Peter reached out, his voice pleading. “Y/N, please—”

But you shook your head, every emotion you’d been holding back finally spilling over. “You lied to me. This whole time, you’ve been lying to me. And you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth?”

“I was trying to protect you!” he said desperately.

“I didn’t need your protection, Peter!” you snapped, your voice breaking. “I needed my friend. But you were too busy playing hero to see that!”

Tears stung your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You took another step back, clutching your books to your chest like a shield.

“Y/N, please,” Peter said again, his voice cracking. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Well, you did,” you said, your tone hollow. “And I don’t think I can forgive you for that.”

Without waiting for a response, you turned and walked away. This time, Peter didn’t try to stop you.

guess this is how it has to be, now that we don’t talk.

—————————————————————————

so if you can’t tell i love writing angst..

[worldsmessiestwriter]

I'm sorry daddy.

tony stark x daughter! reader

tw - drug use, alcohol use, mature subjects, swearing and extreme angst :)

—————————————————————————

Y/N Stark was practically a clone of her father from a young age—same wit, same taste in music, same stubbornness, same genius brain, and now the same rebellious reputation.

Tony sighed, looking down at the newspaper in his hands.

Y/N Stark :

following their father’s promiscuous legacy?!

That title was followed by photos of you drunkenly kissing a guy in a bar in downtown Queens. Tony hates knowing you were rebelling just as he did. He had seen this coming miles away when your report cards started showing B’s instead of your usual straight A’s. He wanted to kick himself for not addressing it sooner. God knows how long this has been going on. You had told him last night that you were crashing at Peter's for a study session, and he hadn’t thought anything of it.

“FRIDAY, call Peter Parker,” Tony said in a stern voice, a million thoughts racing through his head. Was Parker in on this little “outing” with you? God, he was going to kill him if—

“Mr. Stark...? Am I in trouble or something? Did Happy tell you about the film? Because I swear that was an accident!”

Peter’s rambling interrupted Tony’s stream of protective dad thoughts.

“What? No... Did Y/N stay over last night, kid?”

Peter stopped for a second before letting out a concerned, “No, I was with Ned watching Empire Strikes Back last night, Mr. Stark.”

Tony sighed, puzzled about how his daughter could have lied to him.

“Okay, kid, thanks... Wait, what did you say about Happy and the mov—”

“MR. STARK, I SHOULD REALLY GO!” Peter squeaked before hanging up on him. Tony would focus on whatever that was later; right now, his main focus was you and your safety.

You casually sauntered down the streets back to your dad's house, blissfully unaware of the shitstorm you were about to walk into. You had spent the night dancing in a bar, kissing random dudes, and getting ridiculously high, popping pills in the bathrooms of said bar with your friend Karlie. You had told your dad that you were “spending the night at Peter's.” Peter was your dad's weird intern who was always at your house; you felt like you had practically been replaced. You just pretended to like him for the sake of pleasing your dad and keeping the peace.

Your train of thought stopped when you arrived at the doors of the Stark household. You opened the door, loudly announcing your arrival while scrolling through photos Karlie had sent you from the night before. Smiling, you walked into the kitchen and noticed your dad staring you down ominously, sitting behind the counter.

“So... how was the study session, Y/N?” Tony questioned.

“Good. Peter just helped with my algebra homework,” you said, looking your dad in the eye. You did feel bad lying, but it had become an escape that you needed in your life. You felt so much pressure to be like your dad and just as smart as he was, and it broke you down after a certain point. That high made you feel like someone else for a bit—someone you needed to be.

“You know, that's funny because I was just on the phone with Parker.”

Your heart dropped as those words left your father's lips. That asshole better have covered for you.

“Oh, yeah...?”

Your dad walked toward you, hands behind his back.

“Actually, he said you were never over at his house at all yesterday, and of course, after seeing this—”

He held up a newspaper featuring a photo of you making out with a random man who looked about seven years older than you.

“I'm inclined to believe the kid.”

“Dad, it’s not what it looks like..” you stammered, desperately searching for the right words. You could see the disappointment etched on his face, and it twisted your stomach into knots.

“..I was just having fun. I was just celebrating !”

“Celebrating?” Tony raised an eyebrow, his voice laced with scepticism.

“Is that how you celebrate now?”

you didn’t know how to explain it. The pressure of school, the expectations of living up to your dad’s legacy, and the constant fear of failure had pushed you to seek an escape. And that small sense of self and rebellion had felt liberating in a way that was hard to articulate.

Tony sighed at the lack of reply from you as you walked towards your room. Your eyes widened, knowing what you had stashed away in there. You started charging after him.

“Dad, stop! Please just talk to me! Don’t go in there!”

He didn’t reply to your pleas; instead, he began searching for hidden drugs, alcohol, or anything you could be hiding from him—things he knew he had hidden as a teenager as an act of rebellion. You stood there watching him root through your belongings.

“Dad! Please just stop this isn't what you think..”

Tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

Tony paused, turning to face you. His expression was a mix of frustration and worry. “Then tell me what I’m supposed to think Y/N. You’re shutting me out, and I can’t just stand by and watch you make dangerous choices.”

The tension in the room was palpable, and you could feel the weight of his disappointment pressing down on you. You took a deep breath, struggling to not break down. “I was just trying to escape for a little while, to feel normal. I didn’t mean for it to get this far!”

“Escape? You think hiding drugs and alcohol is how you escape?” he shot back, his voice rising. “You’re my daughter! I want to help you, but I can’t do that if you keep pushing me away.”

Tears starting to spill from your eyes, and you fought to keep your composure. “I know, Dad. I know you care. But it feels like you don’t trust me. I just wanted to have fun with my friends without feeling like I was under a microscope.”

Tony’s expression softened slightly as he took a step closer to you. “I do trust you, but trust is a two-way street kid. You need to be honest with me. If you’re in trouble, I can help you, but you have to let me in.”

With a shaky breath, you walked over to the closet and opened the door. You reached in, pulling out a small box full of substances and lighters. Your hands trembled as you held it out to him, the weight of your regret crashing down on you.

“I didn’t think it would go this far,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “I just wanted to feel like I could be free, even if it was just for a little bit.”

Tony took the box from your hand, his expression a mix of disappointment and empathy. “I understand wanting to feel free, but this isn’t the way to do it. There are healthier ways to cope with everything you’re feeling. You don’t have to hide from me, I'm here for you kiddo”

“I'm sorry daddy..”

He pulled you in kissing your hair.

“It's going to be okay.”

—————————————————————————

oof that one hurt i hope you enjoy and remember kiddos DONT DO DRUGS AND STAY IN SCHOOL!!

[worldsmessiestwriter]

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Hello! I'm Madz, a writer here. I previously had a fanfic account that gained some popularity, but I burnt out and lost my login information. Now, I've gotten back into writing and my passion for Marvel, so I created this new account!

At the moment, I'm lacking ideas, so I'm open to requests. Feel free to share any fanfic ideas, pairings, or prompts. I'm particularly interested in writing x reader stories, but I'm open to exploring just about anything.

Thank you for reading, and I can't wait to hear your suggestions!

- ur friendly neighbourhood fanfic writer <3

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