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reidingandwriting · 4 years

Text

10 Things I Hate About You (And 1 Thing I Love)

Word Count: ~2000 words

Ship: Peter Parker x Stark!Daughter, Avengers x Reader (platonic/family)

Warnings: Mild language, but that’s it!

A/N: This was so much fun to write honestly, we love fluffy chaos. It was originally going in a COMPLETELY different direction, but I decided to be nice and give you guys the fluffy version instead 😉 I attached the “10 things” list at the end in case you wanted it :)

You took a breath as you stood at the altar, hands interlocked with your fiancé Peter’s, and you began to speak.

“I hate your jokes, they’re so stupid.” Everyone in the room laughed, including Peter. “You’re the only person who could make such lame jokes funny. I especially hate that goofy laugh of yours that follows, that’s what makes the jokes tolerable. I hate that smile of yours, how it lights up the room. Seriously, it’s so bright, I need an Advil for my headache.” Peter let out a tearful laugh and your thumb brushed over his knuckles.

“I hate how hardworking you are. You built yourself up from nothing, you worked hard in everything you did. You overachiever, I look like a slacker. I hate how my family loves you and how they didn’t scare you off. Trust me, my dad tried.” Your dad called out a ‘hell yeah I did!’ which sent the small venue into laughter again. “My family’s all very guarded, but you smashed through those walls and you became like another member of the family. I hate how even my dog loves you, and he hates everyone. You can ask Dad, the day we took him off the street, he tried to bite him. He never liked anyone that I dated, until I met you.” Peter gave you a smile, which you gladly returned. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, but you blinked them back.

“I hate how you always know how to make me laugh, you know I hate how my laugh sounds. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed this much until I met you. I hate how you always want to help everyone, even when struggling yourself. You could be out in the freezing cold, and you would give the shirt off your back to whoever needed it. You’re going to get sick or hurt doing that one day, you self sacrificing dork.”

“I hate how much you care about your friends. I won’t admit it again, but we truly are lucky to have you. Every endless day we spend with you is the best day. Except for our Harry Styles concert, nothing tops that. I hate how you’d lay down your life for your friends- you’d even do it for people who weren’t your friends. That’s just the person you are.” A few stray tears slid down your cheeks now.

“Even with all this complete and utter hatred I have for you,” your tone was playful and Peter was struggling not to cry at this point. You had told him your wedding vows would be a bit unconventional, he expected nothing less from you. You were Y/N Stark after all, being unconventional was a trademark Stark trait. “there’s one thing I love about you that cancels out all of that.”

“You made me feel like I belonged whenever so many people made me feel like I didn’t. From the second I started at Midtown, everyone treated me differently. Students and teachers were either terrified of me and what my dad could do, or they sucked up to me to get in my dad’s good graces. You treated me like I was just Y/N. Not Y/N Stark, daughter of Tony Stark, aka Iron Man. I was a regular teen with you, and I can’t thank you enough for that, Peter.” You wiped your eyes, smiling at the man you were about to marry. Your almost husband. “You introduced me to the best friends I could ever have, and you became the best boyfriend I could ever have. Boyfriend turned into fiancé, and now fiancé is about to turn into husband. These losers in the audience may be part of my family, but I can’t wait to start my own family with you. I love you, Peter Benjamin Parker.”

“I love you, Y/N Y/M/N Stark.” Peter smiled, a tear slipping down his cheek. “Now, if we’re doing the things I hate about you, let’s start with that god awful snoring.” The rest of the ceremony went on beautifully. Your dad wouldn’t admit it, but he totally cried whenever you and Peter said your “I do’s” and kissed. Meanwhile, Pepper wouldn’t let your dad forget it that he cried. Once the ceremony was finished, you moved the reception outside. Laura and Clint’s kids played with Scott’s daughter Cassie and your sister Morgan, while the adults continued the reception. The wedding was intimate, with your family of Avengers and Peter’s Aunt May and some friends of yours made up the guest list.

“I can’t believe Y/N’s married.” Natasha stood next to Tony, watching as you and Peter made your rounds with all the guests.

“Me neither.” Clint hummed in agreement, standing beside Natasha. “I remember the day I taught her to flip off the paparazzi.” Tony laughed at the memory, Pepper sending a playful glare to the archer. Tony still had the magazine in his office, the picture of you showing the camera your middle finger on the cover. You were only nine or ten at the time, you were all grown up now. You still liked to give the paparazzi your signature pose.

“How about the time she programmed FRIDAY to play that horrible Rebecca Black song every time we tried to use FRIDAY?” It was Steve’s turn to speak, and he groaned as he got the song stuck in his head again.

“Or that time she got FRIDAY to play that Black Widow song every time I entered the room?” Natasha’s face morphed into one of annoyance, but there was no real irritation behind it.

“What about the time Lady Y/N came to Asgard and made friends with Loki?” Thor remembered on your fourteenth birthday how you visited Asgard. It took endless tears and begging for your parents to agree. They finally agreed after you made a ten minute presentation, and Thor had promised to keep you safe. You loved Asgard and the people you met loved you- even Loki was fond of the young Stark. During your weekend in Asgard, you had spent equal time with the brothers. Thor gave you tours of Asgard and the castle, while Loki showed you some important spots from his childhood. You hated having to leave, but you came back every time you could. You even convinced Loki to spend more time on Earth (Midgard as he preferred to call it).

“I can’t forget about the time Tony brought in Y/N to the medbay when her hand was broken, he was hysterical. And you remember how she broke it?” Bruce looked at Tony, who rolled his eyes with a faint smirk.

“By punching that Flash kid in the face and breaking his nose.” Pepper shook her head at the memory, looking at the now grown up kids she loves. “They’ve always had each other’s backs. Now they’ve got each other forever. And they’ve got all of us.” Tony smiled as his older daughter walked over, Peter talking to his aunt. You gave everyone a hug, thanking them for coming.

“Sorry to interrupt, but it’s time for our dance, Dad.” Your dad nodded, pressing a kiss to his own wife’s cheek before walking to you.

“Let’s dance.” You lead your dad to the dance floor, your arm linked with his. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and Tony’s wrapped around your waist as you began to dance.

“I can’t believe my little girl is married now.” Tony spoke softly as you two danced, your dress sparkling under the lights as you moved. “Seems like just yesterday I held you in my arms for the first time.”

“It doesn’t feel real yet.” You hummed in agreement, looking up at your dad. “It still feels like I should be at home, having tea parties with Morgan, and giving you heart attacks with Peter.” Tony rolled his eyes, remembering how mere months ago, Tony was making a cup of coffee. You and Peter came to the lake house for Christmas, and you two were spending time with Morgan in your room.

Tony smiled as he heard the sound of laughter through the halls, until he heard a loud crash and Peter yell “shit!” which Morgan replied “that’s Mom’s word!” Tony ran to the sound, stopping at the sight. Morgan, holding your phone, stood beside Peter, who was doubled over laughing. Then he saw you, sprawled across the floor, roller skates on your feet. Pieces of shattered ceramic, dirt, flowers were surrounding you, which Tony recognized as the vase of flowers Morgan set up last week. You raised your head, looking at Morgan.

“Did you get that on video?!” You fist pumped the air as Morgan nodded, carefully getting back up. You froze when you saw your dad and looked at your fiancé and sister. “Retreat, retreat!!” You skated past your dad, Morgan and Peter following you as they laughed.

“Y/N, Morgan, and Peter! Get your asses back here and clean this up!”

“You see all these gray hairs? You caused them.” You laughed, giving your dad an award winning smile.

“We add excitement to your life.” Tony laughed, twirling you.

“And I can’t be happier that I have you two hooligans in my life.” You smiled as the song paused and everyone looked around. A familiar song started playing over the speakers, and your dad grinned. The slow song had been replaced by Mr. Brightside, one of yours and your dad’s favorite songs. The rest of the guests came to the dance floor, dancing and singing (yelling) the lyrics. The rest of the night was filled with singing, dancing, and laughter.

You stood beside Peter at the end of the night, swaying slightly as you held your sleeping sister. She was older now, but she never missed a chance for you to hold her. Your eyes traveled the room, taking in the sights around you. The rest of the kids were off by themselves, eating leftover wedding cake and drinking soda out of the champagne flutes. Ned and MJ had taken over the music, playing everything from throwbacks to today’s music, jumping around (as they’d call it, dancing) and laughing. The team of heroes were all broken out into their own groups, everyone getting along fine.

“I can’t believe this is our life.” You spoke after a minute of silence. “I remember when it was just me, my dad, and Happy. I never would’ve thought my family would grow from that group of three to all of us now.” Your eyes landed on your dad, who was laughing with the original Avengers team.

“If you would have told me in the start of high school that I was going to become an Avenger, fall in love with Tony Stark’s daughter, and join the family of the Earth’s mightiest heroes, I would think I was in a dream. And now it’s my reality. I’ve always wanted a big, happy family like this. And you gave it to me.” Peter smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. Your eyes closed, savoring the moment.

“Our family’s about to expand by one more, too.” You whispered and Peter’s jaw dropped as it clicked.

“We’re having a baby?” You nodded with a smile, laughing as Peter hugged you tight, being careful not to disturb Morgan.

“We’re having a baby. Don’t tell my dad you know, he wanted to be the first to know.” You rested your head on his shoulder and Peter’s arm made its way around your waist.

“Our child really is going to have the best family to grow up in.” As you looked at your husband, you smiled to yourself.

‘Yeah.’ You thought. ‘They really will.’

1. Your stupid jokes

2. Your laugh

3. Your smile

4. How hardworking you are

5. How much my family loves you

6. Even my dog loves you, and he doesn’t like anyone

7. How you always know how to make me laugh

8. How you always want to help everyone

9. How much you care about your friends

10. And how you’d lay down your life for them

11. And how you made me feel normal

Taglist: @daughter-of-stark @agent-barnes40 @spideygirl2003 @ditttiii 💖 Taglist is OPEN, please let me know if you’d like to be added. Requests are also OPEN, feel free to make requests :)

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coconutknightshade · 4 years

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A Very Tony Stark Move

By @coconutknightshade for the wonderful and excitable exciting @seek-rest!!

Rating: Gen Relationships: Peter Parker & Ben Parker ; Peter Parker/Michelle Jones ; Peter Parker & Tony Stark Characters: Peter Parker, Ben Parker, Michelle Jones, Tony Stark, Morgan Stark Word Count: 3,300

Summary:

Peter's sixteen when Tony Stark busts into his room on a Saturday morning and convinces him he's going to be late for school. Now that Peter Parker is a grown-ass adult with a son of his own, he thinks it's time to start a family tradition.

A/N: Because we don’t have enough Dad!Peter and Seek-Rest’s influence reaches far and wide, ahaha! Also, shout out to @blondsak for helping me hella fine tune it!!

Read On AO3

"Why does your face look like that?"

Michelle's sitting at the kitchen table, books scattered everywhere as she works on her Ph.D. thesis - which very quickly became her second baby - when Peter strolls in and drops into the seat across from her. He's wearing slacks and his favorite blazer, but most importantly, he's wearing a grin lifted directly from the Cheshire cat. It doesn't take over a decade of having been together to recognize that her husband is very much up to something. The fact that he's dressed up as such on a Saturday night with nowhere to go is a dead giveaway.

"Because it's my face?" Peter doesn't even attempt to look offended, too distracted by whatever's bouncing around his head.

"Try again."

"I can't gaze upon my glorious wife without it being suspicious?" He's pulled one of her books closer to him and casually flips through the pages. The innocent act isn't fooling her.

"Not like that, you can't. And not when you're using phrases like gaze upon and glorious wife. What gives, Parker?"

Peter doesn't even bother with a parry; instead, his grin only widens as he looks up from the page he definitely is not reading. "I was just thinking-"

"Dangerous for everyone involved."

"- about something Tony pulled on me once," he continues, raising his voice an octave to speak over Michelle's drag. Peter pulls himself to his feet and crosses the kitchen to put on a cup of coffee that he definitely does not need at this time of night.

"In retrospect, it was brilliant. Damn, if I wasn't mad for days, though."

He grins again, staring at the clock like it's in on some little secret. Apparently, that's precisely the case, made evident in the way Peter bounces between the clock on the wall and that on the stove, messing with them both until they read roughly 6:30. Michelle leans back in her seat, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at Peter.

"What are you going to do to my baby?"

Peter's expression darkens mischievously as he turns towards his wife. For a moment, he doesn't answer, turning instead to pull their son's favorite Iron Man mug from the cabinet and pour himself a cup of coffee. The pregnant pause that hangs between them is dramatic, and Michelle rolls her eyes. It's a very Tony Stark move.

"I'm going to wake him up for school." He doesn't elaborate, but his eyes flick back over to the clock on the wall that now reads 6:30. "And would you look at that- We're running late."

Michelle bursts out in surprised laughter. "You're going to what?"

Peter, vibrating with childlike excitement, nearly dances back over to the table before dropping into the chair and leaning forward like he's about to share a secret that he really shouldn't. "I'm going to wake Ben and tell him he's going to be late for school. Tony did it to me at sixteen-"

"You should be embarrassed that he succeeded."

"- now I'm going to pay it forward." He leans back, crossing his arms and failing to pull off a smug expression. He still looks like a child at Christmas.

"Except Ben is eight, not sixteen."

"Yeah, but with your genes, I give it another year before he sees through all my bullshit." Michelle shoots him a - successful - smug grin. Ben really does take after her, something Peter loves to feign offense over, but Michelle knows better.

She can see it in his eyes. Especially when Ben twists Tony's words against him to get what he wants. It's not so funny, however, when he tries to pull the same on Peter. Then it quickly becomes, "Michelle, come get your child before I give in to his demands!" To which the little shit always smirks - thanks Tony, for that lesson - with a triumphant, "I love to win."

Michelle loves her boys.

"If you follow through with this, you're going to regret it. He's going to get you back somehow. And probably with Tony's help."

"Oh, I'm sure of it," Peter laughs. "But it will be endlessly worth it in the moment."

"Don't you think Ben will notice when you load him up into the car, and the clock doesn't match what you're telling him?" Their kid is eight, but he's wicked bright.

Peter smirks, taps his index finger to his temple, and says, "Your husband isn't as dumb as you think. I've already gone out and taken care of it."

"So," Michelle drags out. "That wasn't you carrying the trash out?"

"I think we both know the answer to that."

Michelle can only shake her head and smile openly at the chaos that is about to unfold. Peter pulls himself to his feet, buttons his blazer, and runs a hand down it to smooth out the non-existent wrinkles.

"Now, M'lady, I must bid you adieu. I have a son that's going to be late for school." He bows dramatically and takes off down the hall towards Ben's room. Michelle laughs, opening another book and dropping it over the already open one in front of her, when she hears Peter's mock-hurried, "Ben, get up! I overslept, and we're both going to suffer for it!"

---

Peter bursts into his eight-year-old son's room in a flurry, hurriedly crossing over to the chest of drawers and pulling out clothes left and right at random.

"Dad, what?" comes a sleepy voice from beneath the covers.

"Ben seriously, if you don't want to be late for school, you need to be up like five minutes ago." That seems to do the trick because Ben Parker, bless him, is an absolute nerd - "Stop calling him a nerd, Morgan" - who loves school.

The kid trips over his own feet - because yeah, he's definitely got Peter's genes in him somewhere - and lands on the floor with a soft groan as he scrambles out of bed. Peter snorts in amusement, still needlessly pulling clothes from the drawer knowing full well picking them up and refolding them later will be worth it.

"Shit," Ben says, snatching off a shirt that's landed on his face before tearing out of his pajamas and hopping around on one foot as he tries to get his leg through a pair of jeans. The word has Peter's brows furrow in surprise as he whirls around, eyes narrowed at his oblivious son who is now fighting to get his shirt on.

"Benjamin Parker... Seriously?" When he's finally got his shirt all the way on - backward - he looks up at his father with wide eyes. The look on Peter's face makes him wince.

"Uncle Happy says it whenever he's annoyed!" It's a weak defense.

"So basically all the time," he mutters, now digging through the closet and tossing over a pair of sneakers.

Ben, catching with ease, slips them on and doesn't even bother checking if the laces are tight enough. He grins up at his Dad when he says, "Pretty much."

Peter fights not to match Ben's infectious smile and pushes him towards the door.

"Alright, monster, go brush your teeth and think about what you've done!" His voice is stern, but the fondness in his gaze gives him away. "It's almost seven, and if Daddy's late, he's going to be fired."

"What?" Ben's confusion is evident on his face, and Peter rolls his eyes, flicking his hands at the kid in a clear, shoo-ing motion.

"Just hurry!"

A clear example of Ben's lack of forethought has him spinning around and tripping over his shoelaces, flailing before hitting the ground. Before Peter can rush over to him, he's back on his feet with a hurried, "I'm okay!" thrown over his shoulder.

Okay, maybe Ben has more of Peter in him than he thought.

Ben comes racing into the kitchen like he's on fire, and Michelle looks up once more from her chaos on the kitchen table. He's not even bothered to take a brush to his thick curls and whew does it show. That on top of a backward shirt and pockets pulled out has her baby boy looking like a hot mess. She cuts her eyes over to Peter, who is sipping his coffee with a glint of deviousness in his eyes as he watches Ben scramble around, climbing up onto the counter so he can dig into one of the cabinets for a package of pop-tarts for the road.

Michelle clears her throat, and Peter pulls his eyes away from Ben as he now pulls whatever he can grab fastest out of the fridge and throws it in his lunchbox. When their eyes meet, Michelle raises her brows expectantly. Peter chuckles and defends with, "It's not like I'm actually letting him walk into school looking like that."

She opens her mouth for what will absolutely be a snarky retort but stops short when 50 pounds of hurried, flailing arms slams into her side with enough force that she has to grab the edge of the table to steady herself. Small arms wrap around her neck, and she's assaulted with minty fresh breath, and a whined, "Why didn't you wake me? I'm going to be late now!"

Peter, damn him, laughs as Ben manages to spin this whole debacle into somehow being her fault. He squeals when Michelle wraps one arm tight around his midsection, pulling him in for a hug, and not letting go as she digs her fingers into Ben's side - his Achilles heel, if you will.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Her voice exudes innocence as she relentlessly tickles her son. "Is this my fault?"

"No!" Ben gasps for breath, immediately taking back his slight against her as he scrambles to escape her clutches.

Now satisfied, she lets him go with a grin as devious as her now laughing husband. When Ben tries to back away, she grabs his wrist and pulls him in once more to press a loud kiss on his cheek, which he equally tries to escape. He is, as of late, too cool for that. Free once again, Ben scurries around the table before she can snatch him back up and grabs his backpack that's been haphazardly abandoned on one of the counters.

When he throws it over his shoulder, he turns to Peter with a huffed, "Let's go, Dad. Waiting on you. Like always."

Michelle nearly chokes at both his words and the offended expression Peter's now shooting his way. He turns towards Michelle with a look that very clearly says, can you believe this kid?

"Rude," he mutters under his breath, dumping his coffee into the sink and dragging his messenger bag off the counter where it had also been haphazardly abandoned. Michelle picks up a book to hide her laughter as she watches two of the three most chaotic individuals she's ever met head for the door.

----

"The sun's not even up!" Ben says as they pull out of the parking garage. He's practically bouncing in his seat, borderline anxious at the prospect of being late for school, as they're already twenty minutes "behind schedule". Dad, he'd whined, racing off towards the car ahead of Peter when it was apparent the man wasn't going to literally run towards the vehicle. I haven't been tardy all year, and if I'm tardy today, I won't be eligible for the perfect attendance award!

Absently Peter wonders if he had been just as freaked out nearly a decade ago when Tony had rushed him out of bed with the same excuse.

He remembers being half-dazed as he skid into the kitchen in his socks, catching himself on the counter as his feet nearly slid out from under him. Pepper had been in pajamas which really should have been the one damning piece of evidence that Tony Stark was full of shit, but the two of them had been up until after midnight the night before - what should have been Exhibit B, your honor, of why Tony Stark was full of shit. The difference then being Tony had actually chosen to wake him at ass o'clock on a Saturday morning rather than after sunset like Peter was currently doing to Ben.

"Wow, good observation, Ben. I can really see how you're top of the class. I know they taught you the sun comes up later during winter." Peter laughs when his son pushes at his arm. Before the eight-year-old can shoot off a retort that in all likelihood would have made his mother proud, The Imperial March plays through the vehicle speakers. Peter grins when he hits the button on the dash.

"Hey, Mr. Stark!" There's a tired sigh on the other end of the line as Peter defaults back to an old habit that took several years to break. "I've got Ben here with me."

Which is effectively code for watch the language.

"Hey, Benny!" Peter grins at the way his son scowls at the nickname Tony definitely calls him just to rile him up. "I feel it's my not-parental parental duty to ask what you're both doing out at-"

"Tell Dad he needs to pull it together and drive faster!" Ben flat out cuts Tony off, and Peter can't help the brief snort of amusement before processing his kid's words. A phrase he no doubts picked up from the terrifying blend that is both Tony and Pepper wrapped up nice and neat in the form of one snarky sixteen-year-old package.

"Tony, tell Ben the adults are talking and-"

"You're both children, and it shows." Peter huffs, mock offended. Before he can respond, he hears a muffled, "Pull it together, Peter!" over the speakers, which absolutely confirms his suspicions that Ben is picking up habits from Morgan. He smirks childishly when Tony sighs dramatically and says, "Children. All of you. I'm surrounded by children."

"I guess now you know how Rhodey felt whenever he was stuck with the both of us."

Tony laughs, starts to speak again but is cut off once more when Ben groans loudly, sounding very much annoyed.

"Can we stop with the hah-hahs? If I'm late for school, I'm not talking to either one of you for a week!"

"Promise?" both Tony and Peter respond at the same time. There's a brief beat of silence before Tony follows it up with a confused, "Wait, what?"

Peter can practically feel his son rolling his eyes.

"Do you know what time it is, Tony? It's Ben's Gonna be Late for School o'clock." Peter swears up and down his son picked this flair for theatrics up from Tony, but Michelle always shoots him a knowing look that has Peter crossing his arms petulantly over his chest with a pre-emptively muttered, "I am not that dramatic."

Another beat of silence that has Peter holding his breath, and he can almost hear the light bulb click for Tony before he howls with laughter and his face flickers to life on the dash-screen in front of Ben.

"Peter," he says, trying to hold back his laughter. "You didn't! Without letting me partake? Rude!"

Suddenly Morgan is there, pushing her Dad aside so she can see the two of them. When she spots Ben, her expression softens in the way it always does when she's around him.

"Ben, are they being mean to you?"

Tony hides his laughter, all too knowing, behind a hand, but the way his shoulders shake is a dead giveaway.

"Morgan," Ben whines. "Nobody cares that I'm going to be late for school." He's sunk down in his seat, arms crossed over his chest. There's another moment of silence and Peter resolutely keeps his eyes on the road.

"Oh, you two are just terrible!" Morgan shoves her Dad, pushing him nearly off the screen. "Ben, it's Saturday. And it's just after 7. At night. You aren't going to school."

Peter's already got his right shoulder lifted to his ear to brace for a blow that never comes. When he chances a quick glance over to his son, he can see the clear confusion on his face mere seconds before it softens into something more relaxed.

"My end of the year award for perfect attendance is safe," he says, placing a hand over his chest in relief and letting his eyes fall shut. At his words, Peter frowns.

"God, I love this kid," Tony laughs openly, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose as his grin widens.

"You're not mad?" Peter asks in confusion. How anticlimactic.

"Oh no," Ben reassures. "I'm mad, but my teacher says patience comes to those who wait."

"I don't think-" Peter begins before his brain reroutes. "Wait, what does that mean?"

Morgan snorts. "You're all the height of lame. Except you, Ben." She winks before wandering off camera.

"I heard Mom tell her friend that you're a genius, but now I feel like she was lying." It's the only response he offers up, and now that they aren't in a "hurry", Peter presses a button on the dash. Once he feels the slight shift in the vehicle that indicates it has switched into self-drive mode, he takes his hands off the wheel. Peter leans over to flick the image on Ben's dash upwards so that Tony's holographic image broadcasts on the center of the windshield.

"Mom tells her friends that I'm a genius?" he preens, heart warming still all these years later under Michelle's praise.

"Yeah," Ben says, distracted. "She usually follows it up with, but he's still a dumbass."

Where Tony snorts in amusement, Peter's face falls. But honestly, she's not wrong. He turns towards his son and lightly flicks him on the side of the head.

"Stop swearing. What is wrong with you, Kid?"

Ben frowns as he rubs the side of his head like it hurts. Peter rolls his eyes because, once again- dramatic .

"I'm not a kid. I'm almost done with third grade."

Peter's eyes cut over to Tony, who looks equally amused.

"Hmm," Peter begins innocently. "Most not-kids I know don't trip over their shoelaces."

Ben turns towards him with a face of pure betrayal. "Dad, that was embarrassing!"

"Don't let him fool you, Ben. Your Dad is the CEO of embarrassing himself." Tony doesn't look away from Peter as he smirks.

Ben glances between the two, face screwed up in confusion when he says, "CE what?"

"Not important. What is important is that one time, when your Dad was about Morgan's age, he thought it would be a good idea to-"

"Anyways!" Peter cuts him off. "Look at the time! It's time for Ben to be asleep. He's got school in the morning."

"No, I don't!" Ben says, indignant. "I'm not falling for that again." He crosses his arms once more and refuses to look at his Dad.

"Don't worry, Ben. Morgan and I will help you get revenge." Tony's grinning deviously, and suddenly Peter knows how Michelle felt earlier when he'd walked in wearing that same expression. Except for this time, he knows he'll be the victim.

"I don't like this game," Peter scowls.

"Tough shit, Kid." He winces and looks over to Ben. "Don't tell your mom I said that."

Ben only grins, and Peter rolls his eyes.

"Anyways, as I was saying earlier- your Dad thought it would be a good idea to-"

"Okay! Thanks, love you, bye!" Peter interrupts, speaking so quickly it sounds like one long, single word before he cuts the feed.

"That was rude." Ben sounds too much like his mother for comfort.

"That was rude," Peter echoes back in a mocking voice, only cracking when Ben laughs. He leans over to reroute them back to their apartment but frowns when, in doing so, "Override Failed" flashes onto the screen, followed immediately by FRIDAY's voice ringing through the vehicle.

"Initiating the Time Out Protocol."

The new route lights up on the dash, and where Peter groans half-heartedly, Ben gasps in excitement.

"Sleepover at Tony's!"

And honestly, how can he be the least bit put out when Ben is vibrating with such pure unadulterated delight? The kid has the whole family wrapped around his finger.

~fin~

#irondad #irondad fic #tony stark #peter parker #coconut writes

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armoured-iron-geek · 5 years

Text

The Hologram (A Short ‘Far From Home’ Wish-fic)

“It’s just over here.” calls Happy, leading the way up the corridor towards a heavy looking metal-grey door.

Peter follows wearily, already emotionally drained and wanting nothing more than to dive under some bed covers and just stay there. Rest. Recuperate. Let his mind figure out what the fuck just happened with Beck. Happy, however, had never led him wrong before, so Peter stays close behind him. They reach the door and Happy turns on his heel to face the teen.

“Press your thumb on the sensor.” Happy instructs and Peter complies, placing said appendage on the pad and watches the immediate blue flash of the scanner.

“Welcome, Peter Benjamin Parker, alias: Spider-Man.” came a slightly digital voice that Peter would know anywhere, even after months of not hearing it.

“Hey, FRIDAY,” Peter says softly, nostalgia pressing into him like a million pinpricks, “It’s good to hear you.”

“Likewise, Underoos,” FRIDAY responded, drawing a tired chuckle from Peter, “Come on in. Something tells me you’re going to like this place.”

The door slides open and with an open gesture from Happy, Peter shuffles in. It’s dark at first, but then FRIDAY switches the lights on (apparently decidedly dramatically) row by row, revealing the rooms secrets. All Peter can do once all is revealed is let out a very exasperated, “Holy cow...”

It’s nothing short of beautiful. The entire flooring makes up to be one giant holo-deck, with clearly reinforced walls and a roof with two giant skylights hanging overhead. There’s a massive workspace with every piece of machinery, equipment, gadget and gizmo a young, budding scientist could hope for. A small lounge and kitchenette was set up in the far-left corner.

What really blew Peter away was the decor. Plastered across the walls in a sort of mix-and-match collage was imitations of blueprints of Peter’s suits and the Spider-tech associated with them. On the far-end wall, a painting of Peter’s mask took up half the space. It all looked like artwork, but if looked at with experienced eyes, the display could almost be interpreted as a shrine.

“Impressed?” inquired Happy, eyebrows raised in badly hidden amusement.

“I-I just...” Peter’s words tapered off for a moment while his brain tried to de-scramble itself, “This is insane. Where did this come from?”

“I’d tell you, but...there’s someone who can explain it better than I ever could.”

Ignoring Peter’s questioning, wide-eyed expression, Happy walked over to the nearest workstation and pulled out a small holo-pod. He placed it on the table, pressed a few buttons, then backed away to give Peter some space. Peter inched closer to the pod as it started to light up. Within a few moments, a hologram started to flicker to life.

And when it came together, Peter’s breath was snatched from his lungs. His heart gave a strong tug and it took every fiber in his being not to cry out.

Tony Stark looked relaxed, dressed in worn-out jeans and an old Queen t-shirt, a wistful, but happy grin on his face, brown eyes full of both intelligence and hope. A thought momentarily popped into Peter’s head that this had to be recorded not long before Ebony Maw and Cull Obsidian invaded New York and the world changed forever.

“Mr. Stark...”

“Hey, Kiddo,” began Tony, casually crossing his arms over his chest, seemingly leaning back on the workbench behind him, “Is this place great or what? I hope you love it. I didn’t bust my ass getting this place together just for a spoiled Spider-Brat to go turning his nose up at my valiant efforts-”

Peter hears Happy chuckling behind him.

“But I’m sure once you see it, it’ll take major bribery to get you to leave. At least that’s what I’m hoping for, though I really don’t need yet another thing for May to hold against me,” Tony continued with a playful shrug,”This, Peter, is your very own place to play. Your own Spider-Lair, if you will.”

All Peter could do is watch in awe and the beginnings of grief as his late mentor rambled on.

“One of the greatest days of my adolescence was getting my own lab where I could do whatever I wanted, away from my father. I finally had a chance to grow on my own terms. I figured, why not give you the same chance?” Tony pressed on, “You’re 17 at the time I’m recording this. Not long now and you’ll legally be an adult, so I’ve built this workshop to help the transition. You can build your own tech, your own suits, build Spider-Man into whoever the hell you want him to be. That’s your choice. No matter what you choose, I hope you know, I’ll be there for that extra support.”

Peter couldn’t help the tears that slowly trickled down his cheeks.

Tony paused for a moment, looked down and swallowed, before moving away from the bench and taking a few soundless steps forward, as if he knew where Peter was. Finally, Tony’s head came back up, eye to eye with his surrogate son. Peter’s breath hitched in that moment.

“Peter...if you’re watching this recording...” Tony started off slowly, “Then I’m clearly not around to surprise you with this place for your 18th birthday. And for that...I’m sorry. It would have meant the world to see your reaction. Please know, that even though I’m gone, I know that your going to use this place for the greatest good. It’s not an overstatement when I say I wish I could’ve grown to be just like you...”

Peter was silently, but openly sobbing by this point. A gentle hand clasping onto his shoulder from Happy helped to ground him, but Peter never looked away from his late father-figure.

“I know that you’ll make me proud, though I must admit, you couldn’t possibly make me any more proud than I already am,” Tony’s grin was wide, the skin around his eyes crinkling in mirth, “Do good, be good and you’ll eventually see the world follow. I’m almost certain of that and when am I ever wrong?”

Peter was laughing now, his smile a bright contrast, illuminating his tears.

“I love you, Kid”

And the hologram was gone.

What followed was something Peter would always consider to be an awakening of sorts. Once the emotions had dialed down, Happy had merely gestured to the workshop and reminded Peter that it was gonna be a bit hard to take down Mysterio without a suit. Peter didn’t need to be told twice. Three days and a hell of a lot of hard work later, Peter slipped into his very own red and black creation.

A homage to what had come before, but also a glimpse of what was to come.

#peter parker #spider-man #tom holland #happy hogan #jon favreau #tony stark #iron man #robert downey jr #rdj #spider-man far from home #marvel fanfic #fanfiction #iron dad fanfic #spiderson fanfic #mcu #marvel #avengers endgame

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venusparker · 7 years

Text

identity ↬ p.p

prompt: jaebumps said: i see your request for a prompt and I raise you “who the f*** do you think you are?” With Peter Parker.

warnings: foul language

notes: thank you for sending me a request, i really appreciate it! although this was kinda sorta really vague and i didn’t have much to go on so i kinda made it my own thing BUT it does still include this kind so i hope that’s good enough for you. also @ everyone; if you have a request or an idea for an imagine, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE send me via my ask box. hope you enjoy.

The floorboards creaked slightly and the constant dialing of numbers filled the unusual emptiness of Peter Parker’s room—all from your own doing.

You paced back and forth, staring at your phone and placing it against your ear as you sent texts—again, and again, and again, then repeat—and the incessant sound of a dial tone and Peter’s “Hey, it’s Peter…Parker…Sorry I can’t get to the phone right now, leave a message!” voicemail greeting was making your teeth grit with annoyance as you wondered where he was.

This had got to be the tenth time he bailed on you (but hey! who’s counting?) during something that was incredibly important to and for you, and by now you were sick of it and worried about him. Your fingers could’ve grown sore due to how many times you clacked them against your phone’s digital keyboard and you were wondering, simply wondering, where on Earth a fifteen year old boy could be at nine o'clock in the evening for Pete’s sake! (No, you sighed, no pun intended.)

The vein in your head could’ve popped by now, considering how immensely stressed you were, biting your nails as you glanced out the door to make sure Aunt May couldn’t see you. She thought Peter was home, and you—being the wonderful best friend you were—knew that, with all she’s been through and with all the criminal uproar in the city lately, she’d go crazy if something happened to Peter, and she’d beat herself up if it was on her watch. Why you were saving his ass when you were, frankly, pissed off at him? You didn’t know.

Maybe it was because, no matter what this boy did, you’d have his back. Because you loved him. Even if he was a little shit that made you want to tug out your hair sometimes.

With his answering machine repeating itself for the umpteenth time, you’d decided you’ve had enough. You went to close the door and your hands were shaking—you were that angry. Maybe you were overreacting, maybe you were just upset that he wasn’t being a good friend lately, but God, have you had enough. You sucked in a sharp, deep breath, crossing one of your arms across your chest as you waited for the irritating and irking beep! and you blew.

“Peter…Benjamin…Parker, you are dead meat, you little son of a bitc—ugh! I’ve been waiting here for half an hour, pretending to talk to you because May would be livid if she found out you had snuck out.

Speaking of you not being here—did you forget anything, Peter? Huh? Like, you’re fucking best friend, who you were supposed to finish an essay with—your part of the essay. The essay that's—I don’t know, due tonight? That’s twenty percent of our grade. I can’t believe you’re doing this again.

Do you even know how hard it was to convince my mom to go over to a boy’s house at this time? Incredibly hard, just so you know. Listen, Peter, I love you—but who the fuck do you think you are—”

Your voice is cut off by the robotic tone accompanied with his message box. “Sorry, voicemail box is full. Please try again later.”

Your lips are parted, your breathing is slightly shaky because of how angry and petty you want to be (and are), and your chest is moving up and down rapidly, your eyebrows knitted together as you calmed down. You steady your breathing and close your eyes for a moment, trying to recollect yourself. You open them again and end the call, regretting your actions and being glad that the voicemail hadn’t sent.

You shoved your phone back in your pocket and sighed heavily, like a burden was being lifted from your shoulders but was slowly being replaced with guilt and shame. You couldn’t deny though—that kinda felt good. You let out a breath of relief: and Peter would never have to know. You turned around slowly, thanking the universe, only to be met with a half naked Peter.

“Oh my God,” you let out, both of you widening your eyes in shock and you quickly turned back around again, hoping you were just imagining him and that when you’d turn around again, him and his weirdly chiseled abs (seriously, when did he get those?) would be gone and you could be saved from the embarrassment. You turned around slowly with your eyes closed, opening one eye at a time. “Fuck, you’re still here.”

He hastily reached for a shirt that’s thrown on his bed and pulls it on, kicking aside something red and blue, his face contorted with shock. “Y/N, of course I’m here! This is my room! Why—”

“Wait, how long have you’ve been standing there?” You ask him, heart pounding in your chest. Man, did you screw things up. “What did you hear?”

He gulps for a second, then frowns. “I’ve been here since you said my full name.” You massage your temples and mutter out an apology, but he stops you. “Wait—what did you see? Did you see me in my…”

He trails off and you immediately glance around the room and he notices, diving for his pile of laundry, both of you ending up in a heap of clothes as you wrestle him for whatever he’s trying to hide. So far he’s winning, but you’re not giving up that easily—especially since it’s a distraction from your horrible voicemail and you’re hoping he’ll forget it.

“What are you hiding, Peter? Are you a drug dealer? You’re fifteen, you can’t go to jail—woah!”

You tug harshly and nearly rip whatever you two are fighting over when suddenly you’re thrown back, one of your hands stuck against the bedpost of his bunk bed. You stop breathing for a second. Web. He just shot a web at you. You’re staring, taken aback with what just happened, and your eyes lock with his panicked ones.

“I’m so sorry, but you have to let be me explain—”

“Holy shit, holy shit, you're—you, you’re Spider-Man. Oh my God. Peter, I think I’m going to cry and throw up. At the same time,” A tear slips out of your eye and you’re laughing, “I’m going nuts, I really am.”

“Y/N, this is why I’ve been such a bad friend lately,” Peter confesses and he scoots closer to you and you’re in awe. "It’s not an excuse, I know, but I have these abilities and I’ve been using—”

“You’ve been using them to fucking save New York!” You shout and he clamps his hand over your mouth, but you continue mumbling anyway because dude your best friend is Spider-Man.

“Well, I wouldn’t say New York, mainly I’ve just been sticking to Queens, but whatever, that’s not the point. You cannot tell anyone about this okay? Too many people are finding out and that’s not good for a superhero. Like that’s seriously terrible for a superhero,” he says and he takes his hand off of your mouth.

“Of course, I won’t tell, I’m not an idiot, I’ve watched movies before!” You pause and try and pull yourself together. “Peter, I’m so sorry about that voicemail,” you immediately apologize, feeling stupid for feeling so angry at him. Sure, he was a bailing dipshit, but you’re sure that he cared more about saving lives than homework. “I should’ve just talked to you about how I felt.”

“No, you’re right. I’ve been unfair to you. I should’ve trusted you. I wanted to tell you, I really did, but it’s hard, okay? Mr. Stark has faith in me and I didn’t want to mess things up with him, you know,” he runs a hand through his hair, “I want to prove that I’m not just a kid.”

“Peter, you’re fifteen, even superheroes deserve a break,” you say and you lean against his bed’s railing seeing as you there’s not much else you can do. You look up at him and smile reassuringly.

“You’re right, but being Spider-Man is pretty fun,” he tells you and takes a seat next to you, giving you a teasing grin as he leans into you.

“I hate you,” you claim as you shake your head at him. “You’re a piece of work, Peter Parker.”

“I know, but I’m your piece of work,” he slips out casually, glancing at you unsurely. “…Right?”

You shake your head and you’re chuckling because damn, you hate how right he is right now. “I don’t know. Are you sure Ned doesn’t already have that spot filled in?”

Peter shrugs, “Yeah, but I don’t know, I don’t want to kiss Ned—wait, crap. I didn’t mean to say that, well I mean I really don’t want to kiss Ned, he’s not my type when it comes to guys, but I do wanna kiss you. Kinda. Unless you don’t want to then I understand.”

Your heart stops in your chest and you looking at him—no, you’re gawking at him, and you don’t know what to say. “I’m not allowed to—you know that my parents would kill me if I went behind their backs and—they think I’m too young, Peter.”

You try and ignore the discouraged expression on his face, because you want to kiss him. You really, really want to. But he understands and he accepts it because he’s a good person, and this sucks because that only makes you want to kiss him even more. Both of you are silent for a moment and you roll your eyes at yourself and reach for his face.

“I’m going to get murdered for this.”

At that, you connect your lips with him, your heartbeat thumping in your eardrums and the feeling of Peter’s lips on yours replace any thought that could possibly be thought in your brain right now. It’s slightly longer than you expected, but when you pull apart, you’re out of breath and you—you can’t believe you just did that.

God, you were going to get grounded until you were thirty if your parents ever found out about this.

“Peter,” you say with realization, and you refrain from kissing him again because you’re honestly not trying to push your luck.

“Yeah,” he utters, still dazed and in disbelief of the fact that you kissed him and he feels like he’s capable of anything right now, his heart pumping so much blood and adrenaline it’s like he’s on fire.

“How do I get out of these webs? I’m, uh, I’m still webbed to your bedpost,” you laugh, and you don’t know what’s more is shocking: the fact that you kissed your best friend or that he was Spider-Man. Both were in the running for first place right now.

“Oh, right. Don’t hate me, but they dissolve in two hours.”

“Peter.”

“Yeah?”

“When this dissolves, I’m kicking your ass.”

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