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@petitepetronas
WELCOME TO ////AMG PETITEPETRONAS' PAGE㉦
↓𝖫𝖨𝖦𝖧𝖳𝖲 𝖮𝖥𝖥 & 𝖠𝖶𝖠𝖸 𝖶𝖤 𝖦𝖮.
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𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇! ── 𝗋𝗎𝗅𝖾𝗌
❯❯❯❯ 𝖿1 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗏𝖾𝗅 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍
𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝖸𝖵𝖤𝖲, 𝗌𝗁𝖾/𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 >ᴗ< 𝗂 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗇! @dexsangel
❯❯❯❯ 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖾𝖽𝖾𝗌, 𝗆𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝗋𝗋𝖺𝗋𝗂 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗
𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗄 𝗂 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 100𝗑 𝖺 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄 </3
Love your blog aesthetic wow!!
thank you sm!! i change it super often but ill probably stick with this one for a while hehe
𝗆𝗒 𝗋𝗎𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗌
!𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗌!
I. 𝖭𝖮𝗌 - 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗇, 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗌, 𝗂𝗇𝖼3𝗌𝗍, 𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒, 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒, 𝖽𝖽𝗅𝗀, 𝗌𝖼*𝗍, 𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌. 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗌𝗄!
II. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗌𝗈 𝗂 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗋𝗌 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇. 𝗂𝗆 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾! 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾, 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝗅
III. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋, 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋! 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖽𝗆 𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍
IV. 𝗂 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂 𝖺𝗆 𝖺𝖿𝖺𝖻 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼/𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 (𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗀𝗇!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌)
V. 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗄! 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 18+ 𝗌𝗈 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝗌!
VI. 𝗉𝗅𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾 𝗂 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗅
𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 ❤︎
𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾 𝗃'𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗅𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗎 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖺𝗍
𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝗋𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝖺𝖼𝗈 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝗋𝗋𝖺𝗋𝗂'𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗆𝖻𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗉. 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝗎𝗉 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝗈 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗇 𝖿2 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋, 𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗒𝖺 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝗌' 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 4.5𝗄 𝗋𝖾𝖽𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗀𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍, 𝗒𝗇'𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗒𝗅𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖻𝗏 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗈𝗋𝖾, 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗃𝗎𝗅𝖾𝗌 / 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍 :(, 𝗅𝗆𝗄 𝗂𝖿 𝗂 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺/𝗇 𝗁𝗂 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗌 𝖻𝖼 𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖿1 𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗌 </3 𝗂𝗆 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝖼𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌
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Monaco may be one of the most boring races out of the rotation to watch. You had been here numerous times, watching dad navigate the simplified turns that you could recreate with your eyes closed, and multiple times yourself. Monaco as a Ferrari driver, however, may be one of the singular experiences of someone's life.
There were red flags everywhere, but not the safety car kind. The venerable Prancing Horse paid homage to the streets of Monaco and along the French Riviera. Residents could wake up, drink their coffee, and watch 22 of the world’s most skilled racers drive their lives away all from their balcony.
Charles' face on a billboard outside a hotel, which he didn't even bother to mention to you, made you scoff in humor. You took about eleven photos to show your dad later.
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Charles Leclerc's Monaco content montage began on Thursday for media day and wasn't stopping anytime soon. Ferrari’s social team had a whole thing planned. You and Charles were supposed to do a walking tour of the circuit on foot, stopping at each corner, and Charles explaining the history of each pinpoint. You walked next to him, hands in the pockets of your Ferrari jacket, asking genuine questions but also ones that would be considered “out-of-pocket.” Admin laughed along, knowing they would have to cut it out of the final post.
“This corner,” Charles started, stopping at Massenet, looking at it like he had grown up right next to it. “I remember almost forgetting how to turn here when I was young. My godfather scolded me after.”
You looked at Charles sideways, your eyes beginning to slightly gloss over. You knew about Jules. God, everyone knew about Jules. You knew how much it pained Charles to speak or even mention him.
“Good teacher,” you replied.
Charles glanced over at you, something passing across his warm face. It wasn't really grief, but smooth and calm. “The absolute best.” A beat passed, “Although, I think I have gotten better in recent years.”
“Bold claim, Leclerc.”
“I am a very bold person,” Charles half-joked.
“You put a billboard of yourself outside the hotel!”
“Actually, Ferrari did-”
“Your face is like this big!” You said as you stretched your arms wide.
“This is very normal, you could say the same about Carlos in Barcelona!”
Admin was losing it behind the camera, as were Charles and you. You were excited to see this clip in the reel later tonight. Charles straightened back up and stitched his face back into the usual smile as we continued walking to Casino Square.
“P3 minimum this weekend,” he said right next to you. It was more like a prediction, not an ask.
You looked ahead at the road that looped into the track, “P1 minimum, you mean.”
Charles smirked, “There she is.”
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Dinner was Carlos’ idea, which meant it was a great idea, but it just meant there would be way too much chaos.
More than half the grid is at a restaurant downtown that required us to navigate three flights or stairs in warm yet ultra-dim lighting, and a doorway that Oscar had to duck through. A long table loaded with three plates per seat, a gold charger, and many more utensils than the average person should need. You ended up wedged between Oscar on your right and Kimi on your left, with Lando across from you.
Lando wasted absolutely no time, grabbing a small loaf of brown bread from the basket, making Carlos emit a ‘hmph’ sound.
“You have your own bread!” Lando said.
“This bread is better,” Carlos replied, deadpan.
“Same bread, dude.”
“It is not the same bread, Lando, look at the oats–”
“So? I don’t even eat the oats,”
“Look at the oats–!”
You blankly stared at the Brit and Spaniard fight over a palm-sized loaf of brown bread.
“Every time,” Oscar sighed, not breaking eye contact with the menu.
“I remember when we were in Monza, they argued with Kimi about the shape of the pasta and how it changes the taste of the dish,” you replied, taking a sip of your water.
“It really doesn’t either,” he said, lowering the menu.
“It does, Osc!" you rolled your eyes.
“Kimi says otherwise. And even if they were right, I wouldn’t let them know that.”
George leaned over to look at Oscar and me, “Is this the pasta thing again? Not the shapes but the cheese thing.”
“We are not retelling the cheese story.”
“The cheese story is a great story, Oscar!” George reminded me.
“George.”
You leaned back into your seat, looking like a kicked puppy. George mouthed, “I’ll tell you later.” You smiled, mouthing a “please!” back.
Lando, now spreading the butter on his second mini loaf, pointed to you with the butter knife. “Okay, P3 tomorrow, yeah? How are you feeling?”
“Good.”
“Scale from one to ten, ten being the best.”
“Seven and a half.”
Lando squinted, “And what’s the half?”
“The first sector. I’m losing two tenths somewhere, and I just don't know where,” you replied, rubbing your arm anxiously.
Oscar cut in after a good amount of silence, “It's turn two.” He was still staring at the menu, eyes darting between two dishes.
You turned, now at a three-fourths angle, “How do you know that?”
“I watched you onboard,” he said, turning a page. Guess he didn’t like those options. “Your exit speed is fine, it's just the entry. You’re being too cautious, which is surprising considering you're not anywhere else on the track.”
A brief pause, your lip curling into confusion.
“I watch everyone’s onboards,” he tries justifying.
“That's–” you stuttered, a little flattered yet alarmed. “Okay.”
“You’ll find the two tenths,” Setting the menu down. Took him long enough. “Seven and a half becomes nine.”
Lando was biting his lip, watching the exchange with the same look he had fifteen years ago when they were young. He swallowed, eyes blank. You knew he was putting your and Oscar’s conversation in his mental filing cabinet. You ignored it regardless.
“Stop it,” you said, adjusting your salad fork so it’s straight again.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I was about to ask if you wanted some bread, actually,” Lando said, holding the basket toward you, innocent as could be. He said your name, then, “Do you want some bread?”
You perked a brow before grabbing a small braided loaf of bread and reaching for the smooth butter. Your arm was prepared to throw it at him, but George intervened, and then Carlos started another pasta-like situation. The table dissolved in loud laughter, which would disturb customers if we weren’t in a private room, and a specific warmth that only we had. We spent most of our lives competing against each other, but we still loved and appreciated each other anyway.
_ . ݁˖ . ݁. 🏎 . ݁˖ . ݁. __
Race day was a half-bust, half-success. P3. Not P1, but it's a podium.
Champagne could be smelled from a mile away, as well as the sight of foam. Charles had won, which I was ecstatic about; it was Monaco. It was Charles, all his. The crowd made noises that made your chest hurt with love. You laughed, spraying the oversized champagne at Charles, his face creasing with pride.
You posted exactly one photo from the podium. Charles in the middle, you to the right, and Max to the left. The Monaco harbor below us, along with the gold and red all around.
Of course, the comments under your posts had always been a delight to watch. You checked them later, sitting on the steps of the Ferrari garage with your race suit half unzipped, munching on a bar because dinner wasn’t for another three hours, and breakfast wasn’t as pleasing as your dietitian promised.
Lando appeared and dropped right beside you, stealing the other half of the bar.
“Congrats,” he said, chewing the strawberries and oats.
“That was mine,” you pouted.
Lando ignored you, “You have two tenths back by the way, Osc was right.”
You had. You felt it on the fourth lap; the car responded differently than before. You thought about what Oscar had said about it, his eyes not even flickering to tell you.
“He usually is,” you said.
“He will never say that about himself, so one of us has to.” Lando stretched his legs out, throwing his head so it gently hit the wall. “Good race.”
“You DNF’d, Lan.”
“I know, I was there.” A pause. “A good race for you.”
“Oh, thanks.” You knocked your shoulder against his as he did the same. You put your head on Lando's shoulder, neither of you saying anything. It was moments like this where you knew not to fill the silence, just taking in his presence.
Oscar found you both five minutes later, coming around with two bottles of water and his blank expression. He finished P5, which you knew was great, but not optimal for Oscar. It never would be.
He looked at you, then Lando, then the empty bar wrapper.
“Did you eat?” he said to you.
“Half of that,” you said, motioning to the wrapper.
He held out one of the bottles, “Dinner is in about three hours.”
“I know.”
“Then eat something real.”
“Oscar–”
“I’m not telling you what to do, just giving advice.” He plopped on the other side and handed Lando the other bottle without being asked. “You get quiet when your blood sugar is low.”
“I don’t.”
“You do,” Lando said, his eyes closed. “We’ve talked about this.”
“You both are talking about my blood sugar? You've talked about my blood sugar, oh my days.”
“We're your friends,” Oscar simply stated. “We just notice things.”
You looked at the water bottle in your hand, condensation wetting your palm. You stared into the harbour, glimmering and blue. You felt something in your throat, but kept it down.
“You’re both so annoying,” you sighed, dragging your hand over your face.
“Of course,” Lando says, hearing a smile behind his snarky remark.
Oscar hums in reply.
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ynhamilton my home away from home
charles.leclerc.official ✓ next time you're on the top step with me
yn.hamilton ✓ ⤷ ＠charles.leclerc.official that's the plan leclerc
lewishamilton ✓ amazing my love👏
yn.hamilton ✓⤷ ＠lewishamilton love you dad 🥹
lando ✓ p3! very impressive, well done
yn.hamilton ✓⤷ ＠lando thank you lando
landonorris ✓⤷ ＠ynhamilton I still don't miss you
yn.hamilton ✓⤷ ＠lando 🙄🙄🙄
oscarpiastri ✓⤷ ＠landon you literally ran to find her after the race
lando ✓⤷ ＠oscarpiastri OSCAR I WILL MOVE TEAMS
oscarpiastri ✓⤷＠lando no you won't
landonorris ✓⤷ ＠oscarpiastri ok then fine
f1addicttt THE MCLAREN BOYS IN HER COMMENTS AGAIN I CANNOT
formulacrumbs ok oscar piastri just publicly exposed lando
pitlane.tea okay, so Lando "ran to find her" after the race, and Oscar is casually posting this in her Instagram comments..im starting a rumor
redbulladdicts ⤷ ＠pitlane.tea rumors have been around bb
ferrarifangirls, "next time you're on the top step with me," Charles Leclerc, you are her TEAMMATE not her HYPE MAN (he is also her hype man)
papayaenthusiast COMPUTAH..
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After a well-needed night’s rest, you and a few other drivers decided to stay in Monaco until Wednesday. Barriers were already coming down, grandstands dismantled, and the air was back to not smelling like burnt tires. As usual, yachts were still in the harbor but the paddock energy dissolved into something almost normal. Almost.
You had been awake since eight for no reason besides the fact that your body refused to give in. Ending up on the balcony of your hotel room, you sipped your coffee that was overly sweet. It was just like the way you made it in the hospitality rooms when your dad dragged you along.
You left your phone beside your bed, face down, because today was a needed rest day. The light was coming off the water at a particular angle that brought you comfort. You grew up in hotels, motorhomes, and hospitality suites, and you still haven't gotten used to the beauty of water on a sunny day.
Your phone buzzed, which you ignored.
It buzzed again.
You whipped your head over this time and sighed.
are u awake? We're getting brunch at mine, and osc is already here. he litch showed up without texting me, come over rn yn yn come now pls there’s pain au chocolat
You looked at the text, then your sugar-filled coffee, then the harbor.
fine, what floor
Lando’s room was three floors down and looked exactly like yours, except it was more him. More of him, meaning his past outfits were on the chaise as well as a half-eaten Kinder Bueno.
The balcony wrapped around the corner of the building so you could see the harbour and the hillside, which was very posh of Lando. Someone, who definitely wasn’t Lando, set up a proper spread on the table. Pastries, fresh fruit, coffee, juice in a jug, and boiled eggs.
Oscar was in one of the chairs with his legs stretched out, scrolling on his phone. He wore a linen collared shirt that was the most beautiful shade of blue. It made his skin look softer than it already was.
He looked up when you came onto the balcony, acknowledged you, and went back to his phone.
“And she’s alive.”
“Barely,” you groaned as you dropped into the chair across from Oscar. “Who did this? Because I know Lando didn't," you said, gesturing at the goods.
“I called down.”
“At eight?”
"Seven-thirty. I don’t sleep late.”
“I know, it's terrible. You need to rest more sometimes.”
The corner of his mouth perked up, “I’ll work on it.”
Lando now entered through the balcony door, curls a little awry. You could tell he was still waking up and texted you the moment he got up (or the moment Oscar made him wake up). He had a tart in his hand and pointed at you as a greeting.
“You came!”
“You said pain au chocolat.”
“There is pain au chocolat.” He dropped into the last chair, propping his feet up onto the armrest of your chair. “Good morning. Isn’t it a beautiful morning?”
“You DNF’d yesterday,” Oscar reminded the poor boy.
“Why does everyone keep telling me this? I know!” Lando groans.
“I’m not saying negatively, I’m just saying that this ‘beautiful morning’ is–”
“Oh, shush, Osc, let us enjoy it,” you hushed, pouring a new, warm cup of coffee. After you put in two too many sugar cubes, you leaned back into your chair, taking a long sip of the sweetened drink.
Something you loved about the two of them was their great ability to fight, then go back to normal within seconds, somehow weaving you between it as well. They argued with little to no heat behind each remark, which was long-practiced. Settling, it was.
“P3, though,” Lando said, opening his eyes to look over at you now. “For real, how’d it feel?”
You considered Lando’s question and shook the sieve so your PR reply could fall through.
“It was alright,” you replied, breaking the pastry in half. “I know, I know, P3 in Monaco is a blessing. But I found the two tenths on the fourth lap and spent the rest of the race thinking about the other tenth.”
“There’s always another tenth,” Oscar sighed, understanding your agitation.
“I know, big issue."
He looked over to you over the rim of his glass of orange juice, “not a big issue.”
“Feels like it.”
“It makes you fast,” he said matter-of-factly. “Drivers who are satisfied at P3 will stay at P3.”
“Wow, that's almost a compliment, Osc,” you laughed, biting into the pain au chocolat. The flaky, brown-buttered puff pastry was warm as the chocolate oozed out, satisfying your long desire for something that wasn’t full of protein or vitamin C.
“It was a neutral observation.”
“Uh, no, it was a kind compliment. I felt it. ”
“You felt nothing.”
“Sure, bud.”
“Lando,” Oscar said without breaking eye contact with you. “Stop taking photos.”
You turned over and saw Lando with his phone u, angled at Osar and you.
“I’m documenting!”
Your lip quivered, “Documenting what?”
“Our breakfast was very nice. And the fact that there’s no kinder buenos like I asked.”
“I told them to leave those out,” Oscar mentioned, cutting up a piece of sausage.
“Are you serious–”
“Delete the photo, and I’ll give you them. They’re in my room.”
“No–”
Oscar reached across the table, and Lando pulled the phone to his chest like he had to protect it with his life. A couple of croissants and tarts were lost as collateral, but you laughed at their antics anyway.
The morning had now gone soft and slow, just like every other Monday morning. Lando was on his phone,e and Oscar had cracked open a book he still hadn’t finished from a year ago. You tucked your legs under your chair, on your second cup of coffee, and watched a boat cruise against the water.
You didn’t have to be anywhere. Not until Wednesday at least.
“Hey,” Lando said, glancing up from his phone.
“Mm?”
“I’m glad you’re at Ferrari.”
You looked at him and your lip pouted, confused by what he meant. “As opposed to what?”
“Uh, like somewhere else, I don’t know. F1 Academy?” Scrolling still. “It’s better with you around. This year is already ten times better than my first.”
You looked back onto the water, humming in content and appreciation of Lando’s words. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”
“Don’t make it weird,” Lando said.
“I didn’t make it weird.”
“He’s right,” Oscar finally said, flipping a page.
“Whatever, you both suck,” you said, picking up the last pastry. You looked at them once more–Lando lay out and scrolled, Oscar, reading in the soft glow of the morning. You felt that knock on your ribcage.
“So, lunch on me?” You asked.
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The cafe Charles recommended to me didn't really need directions. It sat on a narrow street about a block away from the harbour. It was small, yet homey considering it was Monaco. The brick was white and worn, but it smelled amazing.
The woman who took our order immediately clocked Lando as everyone did. She was subtle about it in the most Monegasque way possible, which you all appreciated. I liked her.
It was about half past twelve, and the sun was extra bright today, requiring you to bring a pair of the cutest sunnies. Fortunately, both of them remembered as well.
“Lan, come here.”
He listened and leaned in right next to you, awaiting orders. You grabbed his cheek and rubbed it hard, earning a “The hell?” from him.
You continued rubbing, “You didn’t blend your sunscreen all the way in, dumbass.”
“Oh. Oops.”
The food had arrived, dnd it was better than ever. It was delicately warmed, and the drinks were chilled to perfection. You treated yourself to an aperol for your victory.
You were forking some arugula glazed with balsamic into your mouth as you were typing away on your phone, not even peering up towards the boys.
“Okay,” Lando said, pointing his spoon at you. “You’ve been glued to your phone nonstop for the past like ten minutes.”
“I’m allowed to be on my phone.”
“You said today was a no-notification day,” he frowned.
“Did I? Do you remember that, Osc?”
“Nope,” he replied, spooning the parfait into his mouth.
“Who are you texting?”
“No one.”
“Yn.”
“Hm?”
“Please!”
You slipped a piece of bruschetta into your mouth and looked onto the near-empty street. You ignored the curly-haired boy, knowing he was about to throw a mini-tantrum like he did when you stole his helmet when you were young.
“Someone from the paddock?” Oscar asked, setting his phone down. Why are they so nosy?
You forgot that when it comes to drama, they were the ones who always ran to find it. Everyone knew this by now, because the last season of Drive to Survive included their backstage gossip about Horner.
“Maybe,” you let on, eyes still focused on your screen.
Lando sat up so fast his sunglasses fell back on his face. “Someone from the paddock–!”
“Hush, please–”
“Someone from the paddock, Oscar!" he repeated, now hushed. "She said maybe so that must mean–”
“Yes, I heard of her, Lan.” Oscar now had duck lips, thinking about who it could be.
They both were already ruling out drivers with girlfriends or wives, but they hadn’t considered the rest of the thousands of people in the paddock.
“F1 or?”
“F2,” you said, giving in way too easily. You had to tell them eventually. “He’s in F2, and he's not.. anything right now. He's just nice to talk to.”
The table was silent for about a second until Lando’s eyes bulged.
“He.”
“Well, yes, Lando. He.”
“Who?” he whined, already annoyed by the fact that he wasn't alerted the moment you began to text him.
“I’m not telling you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re gonna make it weird and like to tell everyone.”
“I would never!”
Oscar said, “Don’t make her mention all the times she's tried talking to guys on the paddock and they got chased away by either you or Lewis.”
“That’s not fair!” Lando groaned, looking over at Oscar. “That’s not fair, right?”
“Neh,” Oscar shrugged, going back to his parfait.
Lando repeated Oscar’s name and pointed his fork at him, “You’re supposed to be on my side, y’know?”
He hummed, “You don’t have to tell us, yn.”
You sighed in relief, but that shortly ended when Oscar continued, “But Lando will ask for the rest of the week.”
“I know.”
“And perhaps the rest of the season.”
Another sigh came from you, “I know.”
“Just saying.”
You looked back up at Oscar, munching on his treat as if he didn’t just tag-team her with Lando. You were onto him.
You randomly blurted that he was tall to them. “Pretty face. Funny. He texted me after quali on Saturday and said-”
“He texted you?!” Lando gasped, face now resting in his hands.
“Am I really that unapproachable to you?”
“No, no, but he watched your qualifying and reached out first?”
“Yeah, it was a nice text.”
“What did it say?” This time, it was Oscar.
“Uh, he said I was quick and impressive. And that I did well.”
Lando repeated what you said like a parrot in the most monotone voice ever, eyes rolling.
“Yes, Lan. I’ve been texting him since, and he seems like a great guy.”
Lando looked at Oscar, and Oscar looked at Lando. A quiet conversation passed between them, but you couldn’t pick up on it. Frankly, you didn’t have the energy to inquire.
“And?”
“Nothing,” they both said simultaneously, which was never a good sign.
Oscar nudged his bowl over with a perked brow to offer you some of the berries in his parfait. You gladly accepted, spooning the fresh fruit into your mouth as you heard that agitating, grating voice again.
“What’s his name?”
“Not telling.”
He crossed his arms in defeat, and his eyes met yours. Under all the noise and terrible jokes, he was a sweet boy who barely had the vocabulary to voice everything he wanted to say.
He looked away first.
“I just wanna make sure he’s, y’know, good enough or whatever.”
You raised your brows with a grin of disbelief, “Right, whatever.”
“Whatever,” he mumbled, sipping on his Diet Coke like a bratty kid.
You still didn't tell him his name.
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About ten minutes later, two girls passed by, coming from the harbor. They were a bit younger than the three of you and were full of energy. Lando already turned towards them with a smile as one of them greeted him. “I'm so sorry to interrupt,” she stuttered.
“Don't be sorry, hi.”
The other girl was pink and hiding behind her friend, “Could we? Is it okay if we get a photo?”
Lando said of course, and you moved over to make space for them. Oscar shifted on the other side so you could move in. But, the other girl asked, “All three?”
You smiled and nodded, standing up with Oscar. Lando's arm went around yours, and yours went around him. OScars brought him to your hip, and the other was at his side next to the fan to respect their personal space.
After a couple of clicks, they asked for a quick signature, shakingly handing our driver's trading card to each of us.
You signed the card they had given you and drew a tiny heart in the corner, hoping they’d cherish it.
After the girls had said goodbye, you sat back down in the cushioned chair and swirled your coffee, thinking about the f2 driver and his kind words.
But you kept drifting back to Lando and Oscar’s words and how they were a little too caring for ‘just friends’.
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f1gossip.daily✓
f1gossip.daily✓ yn hamilton spotted at lunch in downtown monaco earlier today with lando norris and oscar piastri — fans approached the table for photos and by multiple accounts both lando and oscar were, quote, "very attentive" during the whole thing. more details as they emerge 👀
pitlane.tea ⤷@f1gossip.daily "very attentive" is doing a LOT of heavy lifting in that sentence and i need sources like rn
f1gossip.daily✓ ⤷ @pitlane.tea a fan account posted that when someone came up to the table oscar moved yn's chair slightly so she had more space and lando signed everything AND took the photos AND held the items while lando signed.
formulachaos.f1 ⤷@f1gossip.daily hey so whens it my turn
gridwatcher ⤷ @f1gossip.daily or they're just friends who've known each other for years and you're all reading into nothing
pitlane.tea ⤷ @gridwatcherr yes and? the reading in is the whole point
asstonmardih ⤷i wish i was as delusional as f1 fans
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f1gossip.daily✓ UPDATE: multiple fans at the same lunch have now confirmed that when a fan asked for a photo of all three, lando immediately put his arm around yn's shoulders, oscar shifted closer on her other side WITHOUT BEING ASKED. They also mentioned Lando stealing a pepper from her?? this is not normal friend behaviour this is sum elseee
formulacrumbs ⤷ @f1gossip.daily why is he so boyfie omg
f1addicttt ⤷ @f1gossip.daily. i need the newcomers to understand the LORE
pitlane.tea ⤷ @f1addicttt enlighten the new fans please we have time
f1addicttt ⤷ @pitlane.tea okay so they've known each other since junior karting. there are videos of them from when they were like 8 so cute omg. Lando has been stealing yn's food since the dawn of time. Oscar has been quietly judging Lando for it since approximately the same time. This is a fifteen year love story we are witnessing in real time
formulachaos.f1 ⤷ @f1addicttt fifteen years of lando stealing food and oscar judging him and letting it happen. this is a love story actually im not hearing otherwise
papayaenthusiast ⤷ @formulachaos.f1 im gonna be like 100 if yn and lando get tg bro ts is NOT happening
papayasdontrule⤷ @papayaenthusiant girl who said it was lando
f1haswon⤷ @papayasdontrule wait i kinda fw oscar and yn
cadillaccruisers wait i have an idea but you guys HAVE to be open-minded
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tags: @tabisswag @strawberrylov-er @jsprien213 @henna006
@dessashippr - dm or comment for taglist
Hii do you still do marvel fics?? (Specifically dad!tony ones)!! Xoxo
yes ofc! i published one yesterday, but it was a little more peter x reader aligned. i can write mode dad!tony ofc ml. just send in an ask of anything specific you want and ill reply to it with my writing when i get the chance xx
𝗌𝗉𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀
𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖽𝖾𝗑 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎? 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗏𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗒𝖺𝗅𝗍𝗒, 𝗌𝗈 𝗐𝗁𝗒? 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 2.6𝗄 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗓𝗒, 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝖮𝖢𝖣 𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗇𝖾𝖽, 𝖽𝖾𝗑 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝖽𝗎𝗆𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝖺 𝗌𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗇𝗍, 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗒 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁, 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗂𝖼 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝗅𝗆𝗄 𝗂𝖿 𝗂 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀! 𝖺/𝗇 𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝗇𝗌, 𝗂𝗆 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 / 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗒 𝗀𝖿 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝗑𝗂𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗋.. 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝗂 𝗌𝖺𝗐 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗌𝗈 #𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗈. 𝖽𝖾𝗑 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖻𝗂 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗁𝗁.. 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝖼 𝗆𝗒 𝗋𝗎𝗅𝖾𝗌
it was a normal routine without saying so. dex would pass through the tenth floor, which he didn't need to, yet did, and you would look up from whatever you were working on and give him the brightest smile. the same kind every time. it was toothy and looked like the white keys of a piano, and its eyes shut for a mere moment. the corners of your lip were pulled up to the point they looked forced, but they weren’t. you had always expected your daily greeting from the man.
dex knew it was irrational. he never made choices based on feelings, and definitely not personal feelings. he couldn’t even imagine feeling something just because of a co-worker's bright-eyed and bushy-tailed smile.
you never said much. a “good morning dex” was the usual. sometimes it’d just be “dex” and you fluttered your lashes. the way his name left your lips made it sound like you were glad he was there, because you were. overly so. you went back to work immediately after your daily greeting, pink highlighter uncapped and moving along your twentieth file of the morning.
dex’s stomach was always unsettled because you offered him nothing more and nothing less. he respected it.
ᡕᠵデᡁ᠊╾━ 𖣠
on thursday, you didn’t come in. your neatly and minimalistic cubicle was devoid from the pretty girl sitting there. your lucky bamboo had slightly less water than the day before, and your mini fan was shut off.
dex passed by and noticed at 8:05 am that your highlighters were arranged by usage next to your monitor. your comfy, spinny chair was pushed in, which was a tell-tale sign because nobody else on the damn floor did that.
he asked agent reeves about it in the break room, keeping his tone low and disinterested, in hindsight knowing he was itching to find out.
reeves pressed the dispense button on the coffee machine and waited a moment for it to fill. “family affair. her cousin passed, i believe. she’ll be back monday morning.”
dex hummed in reply and returned to his office. he stared at the vanilla folder on his desk for exactly five minutes before resuming his work.
ᡕᠵデᡁ᠊╾━ 𖣠
dex was never a flower person. he didn't understand it. why get something that has pollen, a common allergy, and will die within a week or so? however, what he did understand was grief. he knew what it looked like when someone carried it quietly and how it's like a flame has been snuffed.
he bought roses on friday evening from a stand down the block, asking the florist what would be best for someone like you. she replied with dark red roses. dex stared at the blooming flowers, the deep crimson looking familiar to something else he saw almost every night. the petals leaked out darkness, contrasting with the white wall behind them. he thanked the florist and tipped her well, with the tip being his own ‘knock on wood.’
dex knew where you lived because he drove you home one time after your car was in the shop. you insisted he didn’t have to walk you up to your apartment, but he insisted anyway. for the split second he saw the inside of your living space, he was already curious to know more.
it smelled like a warm baked good and was almost as minimalistic as your desk, keeping the essentials but decorating with intention. he spent the rest of his night thinking about what else could be inside your humble little abode.
dex left the roses outside your door with a small note. it was short, because dex didn’t really know what to say to someone who's experiencing a loss like yours. ‘sorry, that must’ve been hard?’ gee, he sucks.
heard about your cousin - b. poindexter.
dex didn’t knock because he assumed you were either not home or did not want to be disturbed. he also held back against letting himself inside, pushing down his ever-longing wonder for more of you. he left the way he came.
ᡕᠵデᡁ᠊╾━ 𖣠
on monday, at exactly eight, dex heard you before he saw you. the sound of the wheels of your chair being pulled out, and you pushing the ‘low’ button on your fan. he turned the corner of the glass wall and noticed you had immediately stood back up. closing the already short distance between the two of you, you pulled him into a hug.
dex didn’t register it at first and kept his arms at his sides before bringing them around you, the muscular biceps caging your figure. your cheek rested on his shoulder, but just as dex was about to pull you in tighter, you broke away.
you stepped back and smiled at him, this time a little less bright, but still signature nonetheless.
“thank you,” you said. “for the roses.”
“it was no issue,” dex mellowly said.
you smiled again, warmth emitting from your core, knowing that dex thought of you. you rubbed your thighs together, attempting to expel the feeling.
“they were beautiful,” you finally said, before turning back, uncapping your highlighter, and immediately starting on the ten files you accumulated on friday.
he stood there watching you for a moment before turning to leave, whispering to himself, ‘attagirl.’
ᡕᠵデᡁ᠊╾━ 𖣠
two weeks later, dex was out on his nightly patrol. it wasn't unusual, of course, but for some reason dex was extra tired tonight. he didn't take his medication, so it couldn't be that. he doesn't drink or smoke, so that's off the list too. maybe he felt queasy after seeing a shorter man laughing with a woman who had ivory for teeth as they were sipping wine.
what was relevant was that it was late, it was quiet, and his entire execution of mob bosses down the district was finished before midnight. but, he saw that the man scoffed and rolled his eyes after the woman had left him. “not even a kiss? what's with females these days?” he drunkenly mumbled.
he had begun to walk home, face glued to his phone. dex didn’t even let the man explain himself before a stem made of glass was lodged in his jugular.
dex made it back home with only one injury, a cut on his palm.
he showered, he slept, and he was at his desk by 7:45 the next day.
ᡕᠵデᡁ᠊╾━ 𖣠
the morning briefing on the mendez case ran longer, longer than usual. you, dex, and nearly everyone else in the room disliked it. dex wished that the director ran her session as efficiently as he would; no fluff, just objective and strategy. he sat at the back of the conference room, intently listening.
you were two seats down, a curve mended in your spine. either you got your suit tailored, or you felt particularly different today by your posture, because dex could see the outline. after dex’s spinal surgery, he started noticing yours more. he imagined running his finger down yours, feeling every ridge if you arched enough.
he snapped out of thought when he heard your voice. you were walking the agents through an error found in the financial records. out of the five other advisors, you were the only one that noticed it. you pointed your manicured nail across the figures and graphs, asking an assistant to cross-reference dates kindly. half of the room didn’t follow fast enough, but dex did. dex always did.
after the briefing, the room slowly cleared. your coworkers gathered their things and promptly left as advised, and you said goodbye to your director. dex stayed seated and reviewed his notes, eyes darting across the page.
you stayed as well, slipping your pen back into the pocket of your notepad. strolling over, you clicked the door shut and turned to face dex.
his head lifted at the sound, making eye contact with you. your face was at rest as you walked over to dex, coming behind him.
dex couldn't see your face, but felt your calm breathing and presence behind him. you leaned over and slowly ran your finger over a sentence he had written. your lips were at dex’s ear, and he could hear the soft rise and fall of your chest.
“i know what you did, dex,” you breathed into his ear, just slightly below a whisper. your finger now traveled up to his palm, digging your nail into the unhealed cut.
dex did not move. his body was stiff as a rock, but his heart rate skyrocketed. you lay both your hands on his shoulder, placing your own ear against the wide of his back. the heavy thumping you could normally hear with your friends was slightly muffled by dex’s muscles, but the drumming sounded nonetheless.
you counted the beats out loud, still with a low tone, getting to ten then starting over. after completing that twice, you lifted your head and smoothed down the back of dex’s suit jacket.
you tucked your notepad under your arm and walked to the door, still not looking at dex.
he swallowed, heart rate now slowing as you left his space. “i’ll see you after lunch,” you stated, swinging the door shut behind you.
dex sat in the empty conference room and gazed at your empty space. perhaps for the first time ever, he understood someone else’s perspective.
he spent the afternoon trying to solve what you knew. he reviewed everything logically, and ruled out the impossibles. however, no conclusion was determined that truly satisfied him, which made his bones itch.
you came back from lunch with a cup of tea and an unfaltering smile.
ᡕᠵデᡁ᠊╾━ 𖣠
wednesday, you spoke to him about another gênant , more so on his end.
it was late, and the majority of the floor was empty, because it was seven o’clock now. the warmly-lit desk lamps were now dark, and the monitors were no longer humming. you both were in a smaller briefing room, not seeing the need to use the larger conference room as there were only two of you.
“how was your date?” you asked, eyes fixated on the page you were reading and scraping a nail against the buttons of your calculator.
“it wasn’t a date,” he denied, not acknowledging or wondering how you even knew about his outing with julie.
“with julie.”
“it wasn’t a date,” dex repeated, more stern this time.
you looked up, and the expression on your face was one that wouldn’t agree with him. “you had dinner and chose the restaurant. you walked her to her car, poindexter.”
dex rarely heard you say his full last name, so he could tell you were upset. he didn’t know how to offer you comfort though.
“it was a professional dinner.”
you hummed, and went back to your file. dex watched as you turned a page. “it wasn’t.”
you didn’t respond this time, just uncapping your pen. he focused back on his own file, rereading the same sentence five times and didn’t retain it.
when he looked up again, you were looking at him. lip into a pout, and the light in you had dimmed. your eyes looked like they were shined over with taxidermy lacquer, capturing the dead look.
“why don’t you love me?” you had asked, lip now quivering.
dex did not answer for a moment, dumbfounded by your question. he couldn't give a satisfying answer, but wanted to tiptoe around something that would make the epoxy fall from your eyes.
he said your name, but you cut him off with a laugh. “i’m just asking a simple question. why can’t you answer me dex? why?”
“you’re–”
“is it something i did?” you asked. the crack in your voice and tilt of your head made dex shuffle in his seat, his palms warming. “because i've been thinking about it, y’know. i’ve been through it all but i can’t find it. what i did, i mean.”
“you didn't do anything,” he warily replied, still avoiding the question.
“then why?””
dex parted his lips to respond, but nothing came out.
“why?” you repeated, and this time the crack went deeper. you were smiling, the piano keys shining once more. you could plead to him if he let you, just wanting to know why. it unnerved dex, earning another slow swallow from him. “i’m always here. i show up. i know your coffee order. i know the exact placement of your cologne. i know that you tie your right shoe more than your left shoe, because the heel is worn more on one side.”
you rose from your chair, voice dropping low. “i know what you did dex. and i’m still here. so why don’t you–”
you stopped yourself, grinning from ear to ear with your eyes closed, catching your tongue. you pressed your index finger to your glossed lips, like you were physically stopping yourself from continuing your mantra.
your eyes opened, wide and wet, maybe a little too much. “sorry,” you said with a giggle. it was now genuine, because you found yourself hilarious, even like this. it pulled dex in, because you rarely ever laughed louder than you have now.
“there’s no reason,” dex finally spoke out, knowing what he said was certainly the wrong answer. but that’s not his fault, he just doesn’t know! of course, he does love you. he’s pushed it down forever, ignoring that his love was actually just obsessive and would become a liability (which he would override anyway).
you nodded, packing your bag as quickly as possibly, papers crumbling. you threw your coat over you and started to walk away, but then you picked an envelope slither on the end of the table. it was solid and held some weight to it, the cool metal stark with the warmth that's been eating you inside.
you tossed it up in your hand before throwing it like a dart right past dex. the slitter pierced the cork board behind him, right on his name on a piece of paper listing the agents for the operation.
dex didn’t move, but he felt the clip of the ear next to his ear and the ‘twang’ noise that went with it. you picked up his empty mug and your arm was already in motion as dex ducked instinctively to avoid the ceramic.
the shattered mug fell into two on the carpeted floor, split almost perfectly in half.
you stood there breathing, pleased with your stress relief. your composure had returned and your face was no longer warm, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder.
“goodnight poindexter.”
this time, you slammed the door shut behind you, rattling the blinds against it. dex crossed his legs and stared at the mug for a long time.
ᡕᠵデᡁ᠊╾━ 𖣠
dex drove home, his mind repeating “why don’t you love me?” flat and clear in his head. he also kept replaying your attack on him, wondering if you meant to cut him or just spook him. or maybe neither. he parked in the garage and took the elevator up to his small but pristine apartment. on the doormat, there lay a small gift bag. he looked left and right down the hall before opening it.
inside, an envelope slitter with an engraved “sorry” and a mug, his mug, with the cracks filled with a gold adhesive, the repair visible. it was kintsugi, something you showed dex in a magazine during lunch during your first month at the fbi. the last item was a rose. the thorns were trimmed and smoothed down, and the petals were still intact.
he unfolded the small notecard inside the mug. small, neat handwriting read, “sorry”
below, a small ps saying, “the mug works fine. i tested it.”
dex smelt the rose, expecting the usual pollen and floral smell, which was there, but it also smelt like you. his calloused finger thumbed against the layers of the petal, imagining it was you. it was sickly sweet, disgusting in the best way. the rose was set on the kitchen countertop where he could see it.
ᡕᠵデᡁ᠊╾━ 𖣠
"𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗆𝖾"
peter parker x stark!reader ➤ main masterlist
◄ 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 ►𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋
mission overview 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗒 𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗐𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗒𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇, 𝗌𝗈 𝗒𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗃𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗈 𝗌𝗉𝗒 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗈. 𝗒𝗇 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗒 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾. words ~3.5k warnings 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗉𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗀𝖿, 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝖿𝗂𝗍, 𝗉𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗌𝗒 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖽, 𝗂𝖽𝗄 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗌
january had settled over manhattan the same way it had since you were able to see it. tokyo was a breath of fresh air, but that was five months ago. it was grey and foggy, and the chill of the window somehow gets through the triple-paned windows if you just barely sit close enough to them. of course, i was close enough, because the couch i claimed had the best lighting, and the cold was no dealbreaker.
the trifold was spread across the table with three panels that had not a single word written on them. there were colored tabs, two highlighters, and a copy of ‘to kill a mockingbird’ with the spine cracked at multiple different chapters. my laptop was open to a blank document with a title labelled ‘ela project.’
peter was on the floor on the opposite end of the table, which i told him wasn’t very smart. he ignored my offer to switch but declined. he had his own copy of the book, which he brought from the queens in his bag. that probably meant he read the assigned chapters, which proved he was a better student than i, and i chose not to give him glory.
“okay,” i sighed, pulling my knees to my chest. “symbolism. we need three symbols, and we have one, the tree.”
“the mockingbird,” peter said, highlighting the page he was reading. peter’s annotations were like mine; pretty colors, bracketed sections, underlines, and little stars ( i did hearts). around two weeks into knowing him, i noticed how he wrote a tiny question mark when something confused him, but didn’t wanna answer himself.
"obviously, by the mockingbird, that's the whole title," i said. "we need a third."
"boo radley's gifts in the tree."
i pointed at him. "that's the tree again."
"no, the gifts are separate from the tree."
"the gifts live in the tree, peter."
"boo lives in a house, but we'd count him as a separate symbol from the house," he said, finally looking up. he had a pen tucked behind his ear, and his face displayed his smartass self. he looked cute doing it, so i let him win.
i looked at him, then the tri. fold, then him again. “ugh, fine, gifts in the tree,” i didn't admit he was right, though.
“alright,” he said as he went back to the page.
i began to speak to myself, “we still need to do the theme section.” i pulled the trifold closer and stared at the middle panel.
“courage,” he said. “not like physical courage, but moral. atticus defended tom robinson, knowing he would lose the case. that could be our thesis.”
i looked up at him, and he was already back to annoying, as if he didn't basically do the entire project.
“okay, great.”
“i know,” he said without any arrogance or ‘told-ya-so’ tone.
i wrote down exactly what he said in the doc before i could forget about it, and the comfortable silence came back in. being friends with peter for a while made me learn that silence wasn’t always a bad thing, especially if it was with him. september me would be so surprised by what we are now.
outside, it was still grey, but the sun was slowly setting. it was flat and tired, and kinda perfect for reading. the volume of the music i put on was low and devoid of bass to the point it was airy. peter didn’t complain about the soothing sounds, which were good because they sounded like something he’d easily fall asleep to.
i was in the middle of writing another thesis sentence that i was displeased with when i heard a familiar shuffling in the kitchen. a very familiar shuffling i knew as well as my own heartbeat.
dad appeared from around the corner in a dark suit jacket, which was the first red flag i noticed. it was a tuesday evening, and he told me he was working til nine.
he was not wearing a t-shirt and sweats, but a suit.
“h8i,” i said with a questioning tone.
“hi,” he said, heading straight for the keurig. he hit the button, leaned against the marble countertop, and looked at his phone.
“you look nice,” i noted, eyes narrowing.
“thanks,” he replied, not looking up.
“where are you going?”
he didn’t reply, and the coffee machine hissed out with steam.
“out.”
peter looked up from the floor to see the two of us before i looked back at peter. we exchanged looks and non-verbal words, which happened quite often.
“out?”
“yep, that's what i said.”
“you're in a suit.”
“i do own suits.”
“dad!”
he looked up from his phone in an almost innocent expression if you didn’t know him. unfortunately, you didn't know him. he took his mug and took a sip from it.
“is this a date?” i asked.
the pause before he answered me was way too long not to be a date.
“i'm meeting someone,” he replied before taking another sip.
“that's a yes,” peter yelled from the floor, stating the obvious.
dad looked at peter. peter looked back with a small smile.
“i didn't say yes,” dad denied.
“you didn’t say no,” i pointed out. i sat up straighter now. something clicked in my brain. “wait. a couple of months ago, you came home late on a weekday, and happy wouldn't tell me where you were. i asked F.R.I.D.A.Y, and she said you had a personal engagement. that means nothing, though.”
dad set down his mug.
“is it the same woman?”
he didn’t answer again, and i felt my eyes widen. “dad.”
“dad!”
“i didn’t say it was the same woman.”
“you never say anything!”
“i don't see how this is relevant to your english project,” he said, gesturing his mug at the trifold.
“it's very relevant to everything. peter, back me up.”
“i think,” peter carefully said, “that it's a completely reasonable question for a daughter to ask her dad.”
dad pointed at him, "you're supposed to be on my side, kid.”
“i'm on the side of information,” peter replied with a tight-lipped smile, which made me wanna bear-hug him.
“who is she?” i asked.
“nobody you need to worry about.”
“dad, that is the worst reply you could have given me since you once told me ‘because i said so’ when i was sixteen.”
“it worked two years ago, and it will work again now.”
“it didn’t work then,” you mumbled, not trying to bring up how you did what you asked to do anyway. “who is she? does she have a name? does she know about me? brief her? i feel like we’re a lot,,ot so she should have a heads-up–”
“she’s very much aware,” he said.
“aware, huh,” i repeated. “everything?”
“yep, everything. i’ll introduce her when the time is right,” he said, repeating what he said a couple of months ago. “finish the project, you two. there's food in the fridge, and nat made the pasta you both like. don’t let it go to waste. parker, the guest room is made up. and let your aunt may know you’re good here and that italy has the best gelato.”
“thank you, mr. stark, i will,” peter said.
“don't thank me, just keep her from setting the living room on fire or anything else while i'm out,” he said, nodding at me.
“i haven’t set anything on fire,” i whined.
“the incident of 2018 says otherwise.” dad came over to kiss the top of my head, mug still in hand. “be good, love you.”
“love you more.”
and just like that, he was heading for the elevator, probably waiting somewhere in the city.
the doors closed, and i looked over at peter. “she’s aware.”
“i caught that,” he said. “we are not letting this go, aren't we?”
“absolutely not,” you agreed. i smirked, eyes darting back and forth.
“what?”
“give me ten minutes,” i said, already getting up.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
the thing about being a nepo baby was being extremely good at getting ready quickly. people assumed otherwise, which was a huge fault on their part. ten minutes means ten minutes only.
pick something nice, and get ready quickly enough not to second-guess it. that's why it takes everyone forever to get ready.
i was back in the living room within nine minutes in a black, fleece funnel neck jacket, dark wash jeans, and knee-high givenchy boots with my hair down. in my hand, a pair of blacked-out sunglasses that haven't been touched since cancun three years ago.
peter was standing by the couch where i had left him, and he hadn't moved at all, meaning he was wearing the same hoodie and sweats he had come in, which was fine, actually. he looked normal, probably more than me.
“okay,” i started. “she needs to follow him without him or happy seeing us, which means we need to take the service elevator and go through the parking garage–”
“this is a bad idea, yn,” peter said.
“noted. parking level and then a cab.”
“a really bad idea. like, if your dad finds out–”
“peter, he won't."
“he absolutely will, and he will specifically tell me that this was ‘anything else’ of ‘ setting the living room on fire or anything else.’”
“peter,” you pouted and looked at him. “do you wanna know who she is not?”
he bit his lip and sighed, “..yes,” he admitted.
“then let's go,” i said, already taking his hand and dragging him towards the service elevator.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
happy had taken dad to some mediterranean place in the west village, which we knew because peter looked it up on his phone and said he was using an ‘educated guess', which we pretended was what happened. "i genuinely just guessed," he said in the cab.
"peter."
"i'm serious. he mentioned the west village a call two weeks ago and —"
"you remembered a passing comment from a phone call two weeks ago?"
he looked at the window. "i pay attention."
i looked at the side of his face for a second. "yeah," i said in a curious tone. "you do."
“take these,” i said, handing him a pair of dad’s sunglasses. he never wore them because they were ‘bug-eyed’.
the cab moved through the streets of new york, bright and busy. i kept my hands in my lap, fiddling with my cuticles. my knees rested against peter as they knocked now and then from the speed bumps.
we got out half a block down, and the restaurant had a warm light coming out the window. i know it had a short food menu and a wine list longer than the declaration of independence. it was intimate and was more of a secret spot than an influencer fan-favorite.
“okay, “ i said quietly, pulling the funnel of my jacket up and putting my sunglasses on. “we are just walking past.”
“we are standing still on a sidewalk,” peter said beside me.
“we will walk past.”
he looked at me, his breath seen in the cold. he had his hands in his pockets in the hoodie beneath his jacket. the hoodie did nothing against the biting cold, which i chose not to comment on because i was freezing as well.
“this is so unhinged,” he sighed.
“you decided to come,” i smiled.
“which may be worse,” he chuckled.
we walked past the window slowly, looking in. the glass was slightly fogged at the edges, but clear in the middle from the warmth inside. it looked like a crafted picture frame.
there was dad.
in a booth near the window, jacket off. he was leaning forward across the table the way he never did at diplomatic dinners and press conferences. he was relaxed, like how he was at home.
across from him was a woman with blonde hair, skinny, and quite beautiful. she was leaning into the conversation, fully tapped in. she was laughing at something he said, and he looked pleased that she was. like he intentionally did.
i stopped for just a second, just enough. peter stopped beside me, close enough to the point i felt his near-nonexistent warmth. i felt him glance between me and the window and remained quiet.
“okay,” i quietly said.
we kept walking around the block, out of sight. i stopped with my back against the cold white brick and exhaled.
“so?”
“he really likes her,” i said. it was way more straightforward than i meant, and no tone whatsoever.
peter was quiet for a beat and listened, not waiting for his turn to speak. “yeah, looks like it.”
i pressed my glossed lips together. it wasn't a bad thing, not at all. i wasn't upset, not exactly. but it was new, and changed. change was scary sometimes, especially if dad was serious about her.
“she seemed good,” peter offered. “from what we could see. she didn't seem uninterested in him.”
“she was laughing at his jokes,”
“that's either a very good sign, or she has such low standards,” peter joked. “but either way, it’s good to get to know her at one point.”
a laugh emitted from my throat before i could swallow it down. he seemed to exhale in relief and was satisfied with it, a little smug even.
i looked up at the sky, now dark. the streetlight illuminated us and wasn’t helping me maintain homeostasis, which has been a recurring problem.
“thanks for coming with me,” i said.
“you would've gone alone,” he said, knowing it's a fact.
“it was optional, you made the right choice though,” i smiled.
he looked at me, small and unguarded. it lasted less than a second, but i took a mental photo anyway. “yeah, i did.”
the wind blew harder for a moment, nearly toppling us over. the air was pressing in from all sides, which was most likely the reason why we were standing as close as we were.
“we should go back,” i said, peering at my boots.
“yeah,” he agreed.
neither of us said anything after. i moved towards the street, and he fell into step next to me, where he was the entire evening.
we got back into a cab and didn't say much on the way back to the tower. we were in no rush to get there, and his shoulder was against mine. i looked out the window at the wet streets and bright lights and said nothing, which was completely fine.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
when we got back, we made no progress on the trifold. we were cold, hungry, and now back into comfortable clothes. the pasta was extremely good as expected,e,d and the project wasn't due tomorrow, so the stakes were low. at one point, we gravitated back to the couch, and neither of us acknowledged what was happening.
between finishing the pasta and some movie we put on, the distance between us was no longer there. before, we sat next to each other, my legs up as his were stretched out. my eyes started to droop, but i was determined to stay up.
the tv was on, but neither of us was really watching it.
“what do you think her name is?” i eventually spoke, staring blankly at the undone trifold.
"maybe something nice," peter said. "she seems like a nice person."
"what does that mean?"
"i don't know," he admitted. "she just seemed nice. that's all i got."
"you said that already."
"it held up on reflection," he said, and i smiled at nothing in particular, just the space in front of me and the low light.
“she knows about the whole thing,” i said. “she knows, which means he's serious about her.”
“the whole thing, considering he has a daughter and lives in the largest building in new york?”
“mainly the first thing, but yes. how do you feel about that?” he asked as she slightly shifted under the blanket we shared.
“it's an adjustment, for sure. i’m just like.. not sure, i know.”
“hm, i see.”
the movie continues. the city was quiet from where we were. manhattan was tucked in a little after the holiday, and the noise died down a little. this was one of my favorite times of the year, because everyone was getting back into their usual routines, wearing their new holiday gifts.
my bracelet shimmered on my wrist, the one peter got me in tokyo. the camera charm caught light from the t, and i smiled at it.
“peter,” i said.
“yeah?” he said.
i didn't really think about what i was going to say before i said his name, which was unusual. i knew the end of a sentence before i began it. i started this one with nothing at the end. never mind, i said, adjusting my position to become more comfortable, eyes now blinking slower than ever. i forced peter to lie down, and i lay right after, spooning him without touching me at all.
he didn't ask after i said nevermind. he never asked, which made me warm inside. he paid attention to every single thing and knew the difference between an unspoken thought and a false thought.
i got comfortable and nudged peter, not caring if it was odd for friends to cuddle up like this. if peter didn’t like it, he’d say something, and i know he would. he was always honest, even if it was a little mean sometimes.
peter stopped breathing for a moment until he remembered the box breathing dad taught him. he slightly leaned over to look at me, my body rising and falling gently. he gently put an arm over me to pull me closer so i wouldn't roll off. he pulled the blanket up and turned down the volume of the tv.
i fell asleep somewhere before the movie ended, which i didn't know about until i woke up in a dark and quiet living room. peter was still with me, very still. his breathing was slow and even, deep in sleep.
i tucked up the blanket higher and closed my eyes again. some things just weren't for the city. just the couch, dark, and whatever peter and i were that we didn’t wanna talk about.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
peter was awake.
he wasn’t sure when he stopped sleeping, but he knew he had, and it's been a while. it was probably as late as ever now. the tower was silently humming, regulating the systems and tech.
she was asleep. he was aware that he acknowledged a lot of things about her without even trying. her breathing had slowed and evened out forever ago. she hadn't moved,d and the blanket was slightly adjusted, which he shifted involuntarily.
his legs were static,c and he had no plans of moving.
he looked up at the ceiling, which had low, ambient lights of the city pouring softly through the huge windows. new york was never completely dark.
he thought about their little adventure. the moment she stopped on the sidewalk and went quiet, he watched her face go blank. she wasn’t upset, but changed her mental framework. he hadn't said anything and just stood there, close enough to him and close enough to the window. she didn't say thank you for waiting for her to keep walking, but instead thanked you for coming, which was really the same thing.
he thought about her shoulder against his in the cab. she was almost always three steps ahead of herself. he thought about the bracelet, camera charm, and photobooth strip he had carried in his wallet since tokyo.
he thought about the trifold on the coffee table, which will get them scolded tomorrow by her dad ‘t, and each other, the unwashed tupperware in the sink, and the pastel pink highlighter she let him borrow that she never asked for back.
peter had known. he had always known. he knew the way you acted when he was around, when he wasn't, how you watched the tv when spiderman was mentioned, and him knowing that he still hadn’t told you, and how you hadn't brought up your interaction in tokyo. what he didn’t know was what he was going to do.
he knew he liked you. a lot. he also didn't know what he was waiting for. the right time? that's what people said when they didn't wanna do something, so it wasn't that. he wanted to be sure. not about his own feelings, because those have been clear for much longer than he was willing to admit.
soon, he thought. not tonight. tonight, she was asleep, more specifically, asleep with him. the apartment was dark and cool, tech humming like white noise. there was no reason to complicate the perfect night, but it would be soon. he bit the inside of his cheek in anxiety, but a good kind. like butterflies in the stomach.
he shut his eyes again, clinging to her a little closer.
soon.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗍: @amterasuu @carrotkitten10 @nin0xd @sarkastic1515 @loserinadress @stayingatharryshouse @luciiss9 @swuzzin @vanyaa123 @10iceicebaby @shortcakebbg @b1athanna @ruthlesslydeepthing @po0kiedookie @matildakissesxo @lvlyu @moonjellyfishie
𝖼𝗈𝗓𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇
hamilton!reader x landoscar oneshot
𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗒𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗍𝗈𝗇, 𝗌𝗂𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝗐𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝖾𝗋 3𝗋𝖽 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝗋𝗋𝖺𝗋𝗂 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋. 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗈𝗓𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗒𝖺 𝖽𝗎𝗈.. 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 2𝗄 𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗀𝗌 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖺/𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍/𝗀𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗉 𝗂𝖽𝗄, 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖻𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝗐𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝖻𝗁
a/n im gonna try my best to continue this series + sorry guys i went with both yk i love my landoscar and apologies for low effort post this is so not edited enough
I. You have been to Melbourne more times than you could count. A million times when your dad took you for karting and signings, and two more times during your F1 career. When you were nine, it was the teal-and-silver walls that said, "Mercedes." Now, they are red with the prancing horse.
“You’re staring again,” Charles chuckled, taking a swig of water.
You blinked, “Am I?”
“Yep. You do not need to be nervous; you’re not a rookie anymore. Please remember to be yourself when the paparazzi comes. Smile as well!”
“I always smile.”
“Sure, smiling like you were about to explode at the press conference in Abu Dhabi.”
“I was just focused!” you laughed in response.
Charles made a ‘hm’ noise like he didn't believe you whatsoever. Charles had been doing this media thing forever, and he barely ever paid mind to it as well. Except he looked good at every angle, effortlessly. He was too perfect, you swore.
You were trying your hardest to strive for that. Ferrari’s PR team had set up the garage, backdrop clean, and ringlights on. It looked like a dentist’s office. One of the members, Lyle, seemed like he had four shots of espresso with a dash of something from a flask. You and Charles were about to make Instagram reels for the next half-hour.
“Okay, okay, okay!” he clapped to grab our attention. “So Charles, you're showing her the ropes, because you're like the mentor or whatever. You're the rookie,” he said, pointing to you.
I furrowed my brows, “I’ve been driving for this team for three years; been in the garage since I was 3 months, Lyle.”
“But like the narrative-”
“The narrative is I’ve podiumed six times,” you sternly replied. You were not here to be treated like a new student, because you weren’t. You and Charles were the head of the horse.
Charles said your name before putting a hand on your shoulder. He looked full of patience and looked at Lyle, “She is very teachable.”
After around twenty minutes of content consisting of ‘who knows Ferrari trivia better” (which you won by three points), name the track, and reaction to fan comments, you were pooped. One comment was about you, overtaking at Monza last year, and how ‘graceful’ it was, even though that was a near panic attack moment.
You had a good season. A great season, even.
Before all that, Dad retired, and Ferrari had called almost immediately after. You soon were in the garage with a red kit and ‘Hamilton 'stitched on a red leather jacket, which was probably just as expensive as your first kart. You were so, so focused.
“That’s a great comment,” Charles quietly said, nodding at the tablet Lyle held. He was being genuine and simple about it, as always. “You're quick. The car will love you.”
You side-eyed him, “We don't know that for sure yet.”
“I know what quick looks like. The genes carry on,” he smiled, now getting up. “Now come on, they want us next to the car for the announcement post.”
II. Your phone was already buzzing by the time they wrapped up. Tagged in at least three hundred posts, you didn't even bother looking at DMs and notifications. However, you did look at the comments from a dump you had your social media manager post literally five minutes ago.
ynhamilton
❤︎ 293K 💬2K ↳↰ 7,939 ➢829
ynhamilton glad to be back x
ferrariforlife ok father feature
lewishamilton avid hat wearer
⤷ ynhamilton well yes
charles_lerclerc 👏
kimi.antonelli neigh
⤷georgerussell63 neigh x2
⤷ynhamilton neigh x3
─────────────────────
The paddock club was so disconnected from the rest of the track. Hospitality suites were stacked up, and catering was bliss. Your eyes were beginning to get tired of going from the bright red to the papaya orange.
Lando spotted you from about thirty meters away and stood up so fast he nearly knocked over someone’s champagne flute.
“She lives!” he announced to you.
“Sit down,” Oscar said, without looking up from his phone.
“Hey! I'm expressing my very real human emotions, Osc.”
“What you're doing is causing a scene in the suite.”
“Same thing.”
You dropped onto the white couch across from Oscar and stole a cookie from the marble table, a habit you've instilled since you were able to grab onto things.
“Good media day?” Oscar asked, now shutting his phone off.
“Charles told me that I have my dad’s genes, and it shows, so pretty good.”
“You do.”
“Thanks, Osc.”
Lando was lying sideways across the couch with his hands behind his head, closing his eyes. It was probably the only shut-eye he was going to get today. A big, fat smirk on his face with it.
“Sooo,” he started. “Ferrari.”
“Ferrari,” you repeated.
“Big red and scary walls, innit.”
“Not that scary,” you laughed, picking up another cookie. You were prepared for your dad to pop out of nowhere and advise against snacking a day before a sprint.
Lando grinned again, which meant you knew he knew you were lying. You’ve known that grin for fifteen years and have gotten yourself in trouble more times than ever.
“You’ll be fine,” Oscar said, direct and simple. “You race extremely well, specifically during the warmer races. And your racecraft was better than ours in Abu Dhabi last year.” he paused for a moment. “Annoying.”
“How kind of you,” you proudly smiled at his half-compliment.
“I noticed how annoying it was.”
You smiled anyway, “Wow, that should be my caption on my next dump. ‘81 thinks Ferrari’s strategies are spectacular.’”
Oscar just shook his head at my antics, while Lando cackled. Someone turned to look, and soon after, a couple of phones followed. You’ve always felt like phones and cameras should be banned here.
“Phones, Lan,” Oscar warned, his eyes darting forward.
“It’s fine,” Lando insisted, taking a chug of water. “Let them.” Unbothered as ever.
Oscar’s face also slightly tightened up, the displeasure clear on his face. “We are just talking and having a snack in the paddock. There’s nothing to photograph.”
“You both have one of the most photogenic faces in motorsports," you said.
“First, wrong, your dad or Senna does. Two, this is boring compared to what we do on Sunday. They’ll get over it,” Lando rolled his eyes.
By the time you three headed out forty-five minutes later, laughing of course, there were at least five people who posted and tagged you guys. Seriously, are you guys that interesting?
III. The thing about being Sir Lewis Hamilton’s daughter was the fact that people could have an opinion about the way you stir your tea.
They monitored what you wore, said, and sat next to at the conference because God forbid you chose a rookie over their goat Max (whom you love anyway). They surveillance if your helmet design was a tribute or just a sponsored ripoff. Whether you deserved that red seat compared to a friend who was with you in prema.
You had a complex relationship with these facts. It was between ‘I don't care’ and the truth, being that it ate you up sometimes, even if you never showed it.
Friday nights during race weekend brought a warm buzz in your system, both figuratively and literally. Debrief, dinner at a local restaurant, and then, if deserved, a bright night out. The grid was small, but everyone ended up being in the same three places.
Tonight, it was a rooftop bar that Charles had texted in your group chat at 9:00 PM sharp with no context or preamble. The red pin emoji and a map were all that it took to get you shoving your feet into heels a size too small.
Charles and Carlos were arguing, or maybe talking with their hands in the corner, while Rebecca and Alexandra laughed beside them. George, Alex, and Kimi were giggling along with their gossip.
Lando was on top of someone’s shoulder singing to the house song, while Oscar observed from the side.
“You made it,” Oscar said, nudging his elbow gently at you.
“Well, when Charles sends a pin, you know I'm there.”
Oscar looks around the rooftop, watching the various grid members unwind in their own personal way. “Of course.”
Lando somehow was already off the person’s shoulders and shouted, "You're here!” before throwing an arm round your shoulder. He smelled like a foreign cologne and vodka. “Oscar bet me twenty quid you wouldn’t show.”
“I did not,” Oscar said, plain-faced as ever. You could bet you would never see this man shit-faced.
“Did too,” Lando whined.
“I said you might not come because of your late debrief. That’s just an inference.”
“Uh, so that’s basically you saying she wouldn't come.”
“That is just genuinely not the same thing I fear.” You held in your laugh, which soon followed.
Your eyes skated between the two. This sheer moment was truly the entire basis of their relationship. Lando swam, while Oscar anchored. You’ve seen it evolve for two whole seasons, and you felt like you were nudging between it.
You brought yourself back to the present, “I’m going to get a drink.”
“Get me something immediately,” Lando said faster than light.
“You have something.”
He groaned, “This is basically water at this point–”
You began to walk off, “Then drink the water, Lando.”
“You need it...” you whispered to yourself as you walked towards the bar, which Oscar heard, replying with a stifled laugh.
Somewhere around midnight, Charles took control of the speaker situation, and the music became somehow better and more moody. You were three songs in and pretending you weren't having the time of your life. A phone came your way, which you immediately clocked. Thankfully, just a grid girlfriend you've seen around.
You mentally loosened up now, going back to singing your heart out.
Later that night, you posted pictures that you somehow had on your phone during the evening.
Oscar texted shortly after that he took your phone and airdropped it before your Uber came.
─────────────────────
charles_lerclerc
❤︎ 903K 💬10,290 ↳↰ 3,298 ➢7K
charles_lerclerc #surprise
formula1girlies losing my MIND omg she looks so good im gonna cry
f1addict FERRARI ERA STARTING ONCE MOREEE omg these two #ilove
forzaferrari best uncle and niece duo
number1papayalover wait, she's out?? On a Friday night?? Before quali?? Omg the woman you are yn hamilton..
ynhamilton wouldn't miss it!
gridwatch she's going out the night before qualifying… interesting..
paddockpulsebars literally every other driver on the grid was there too, mind you. Half the damn paddock at that.
gridwatch ＠paddockpulsebars girl, I'm just saying
gridgossipers wait what are we saying
─────────────────────
ynhamilton
♫ Friday • Riton, Nightcrawlers
❤︎ 739K 💬8,483 ↳↰ 1,033 ➢5K
ynhamilton ily grey goose
lando you didn't say bye 💔
⤷ynhamilton ＠lando hi so you were fast asleep standing up
⤷lando ＠ynhamilton I was actually resting my eyes, thanks x
⤷alpinealpaca the sass gn
⤷oscarpiastri You were drooling.
paddockchasers the way the McLaren boys are in her comments within 4 mins of posting BYEEE
lewishamilton home before 2 am next time, please
ynhamilton so you're in a different timezone x
lewishamilton I'm well aware. Home before 2am!
paddockaddict LEWIS IS FRYING ME WITH THE BEDTIMES
redderbulls the way he publicly commented that I'm dead asl
georgerussellstpose 7-time WDC winner btw
f1gossipdaily why is nobody talking about the fact charles sponsored this event
─────────────────────
pipingpitlanetea
❤︎ 500K 💬20K ↳↰ 10,293 ➢10K
pipingpitlanetea Okay, so Yn Hamilton has been spotted with Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri THRICE this week. Media day, paddock club, and tonight, omggg. Our girl is getting cozy with the competition, and we are NOT complaining.
⤷pipingpitlanetea let's also note that the two papaya boys commented almost asap on the post. They're def all awake and still together. Ferrari-McLaren trio when.
ihateredbull the childhood friends to rivals to whatever this is now is sending me
nandotherookie ‘getting cozy with the competition’ as if they havent known each other since they were like fetuses is killing me
🏁…………🏎💨..
─────────────────────
tags : @love-seungmo @tabisswag @cannonindeez @ferrarifever @abeeloves
would u guys be interested in f1!racer reader x lando / oscar..? u can also comment / dm for tag if i do make this
yes (lando)
yes (oscar)
yes (BOTH!!)
no thanks!
update : okay so i alr made it HERE U GO
hmmm thinking abt how u cheat on ur terrible bf w dex whos ur coworker hmmm....
⋆𐙚 ̊.𝖻𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌
𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖽𝖾𝗑 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎.
𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 1.8𝗄
𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝗉𝖾𝗍 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 (𝖽𝗈𝗅𝗅, 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗅, 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒, 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒, 𝖾𝗍𝖼.), 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖽𝗈𝗆!𝖽𝖾𝗑 (𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗀𝗎𝗒𝗌 𝗂 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗎𝖻!𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝗌), 𝗌𝗎𝖻!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗒 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗀 𝖻𝗋𝗈, 𝗎𝗇𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝖺𝗆𝖺𝖻 + 𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗁𝖾/𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗌, 𝗅𝗆𝗄 𝗂𝖿 𝗂 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗇𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗒 𝗀𝗇
𝖺/𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 @ifawnn ! 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀 <3 𝗂 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗀𝗈 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗂𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗅
ᡕᠵデᡁ᠊╾━ 𖣠
rain pattered against your penthouse’s large window. the dark evening stretched across new york, but was especially particular in the city. your boss at the doj had offered you a rest day after multiple days of overtime, long days extended by excessive document checks and calculations from wire transfers.
you spent the majority of the day getting things done. you cleaned yours and dex’s room, deep-cleaned the washrooms, cleared and rearranged the fridge, and wiped down every surface imaginable. you used the ocean-scented ones rather than the lemon ones, because dex didn’t like the citrusy, tangy scent that lingered.
you then meal-prepped for the week, packing meals in bento containers for you and dex. dinner was already made and kept on the stove for later. a linen-scented candle was the only light emitting in your living room. over you was a white, furry blanket, drowning you in its plushness. snuggled up on the couch, exhausted from your (supposed) rest day.
you texted dex, ‘taking a short nap, miss you. see you when you get home.’ whenever you were doing something that would require you to be away from your phone, you always alerted dex. what if you were going to get hurt? what if nobody there could save you? he knew they couldn’t save you, because they weren’t him. he was your savior, as were you.
dex did not reply, but he stared at the message with delight. delighted that his north star took the time out of her day to notify him of what she was doing. you knew that he had read it the moment you had sent it, so you closed your eyes, lashes wisping like butterflies ending their stage.
⋆｡‧˚ʚ𖣠ɞ˚‧｡⋆
dex had gently unlocked the front door, careful not to wake you. he removed his shoes and set them on the rack, the same space as it always had been. he shed his jacket, hanging it on the rack before padding his way over to you on the couch. soft purrs sounding from a fuzzy flood. he softly sat beside you, taking in your calm figure. your vulnerability and softness are what drove dex up the wall. you were what he could not be. he brought a hand up to stroke your cheek, the roughness stark with the leveled skin.
his eyes wandered to your sternum, where it rose and fell, your breathing steady. he caught up with it, syncing up like a melody and harmony. the matching expiration of breath calmed dex.
dex pushed away your baby hairs that he was sure tickled the edges of your face. he then thumbed over your plush lips, feeling every soft chap between them. he caught your breath, coming to a pause, signifying you were slowly waking up. your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the room that was slightly dimmer now.
dex’s mouth flattened into a small smile, but he was a little upset that he woke you.
“hi dex,” you mumbled.
“hey,” he huffed out. dex looked a little tired, his eyes a little more set than usual. “i didn’t mean to wake you.”
“it’s alright, i slept for quite some time anyway,” you said before you yawned. you sat up now, bringing your arms around dex. you rested your head against his chest, smelling the faint detergent and cologne he applied this morning on him. “how was work?”
“the same. tiring. not as nice as you,” he replied, snaking his arms around your waist. you could hear his heartbeat, the lub dub sound steady.
you chuckled, “well, at least you’re home now. did you have the lunch i made you?”
“yes, angel, thank you. are you hungry?”
you squished your cheek until you essentially melted into him. you huffed out for a moment. shaking your head, you said, “no, not really. jus’ want you.”
dex cradled your head with his large hand, stroking your hair down. “miss me that much?”
”yeah,” you mumbled. “bored without you. i got a lot done though,”
”that’s my girl,” he replies, now lifting you into his lap.
the rain was still drumming against the window, creating white noise amongst your breaths.
dex’s big figure and sculpted arms around you created an ache you just couldn’t soothe. you shifted around his thick lap, trying to ease the warming in the pit of yourself.
a whine erupted from you. after a long day of hearing complaints from stupid fbi agents and the nypd, your sounds were music to dex’s ears.
he was already hard as a rock, and it didn’t help that you were in one of his worn shirts with just panties as well.
“mm, is my girl needing something?” he murmured.
you mumbled back through his chest, “you. need you.”
dex brought your head back from his chest to look at you, pressing a thumb to your plush lips. “you seem tired, love. are you sure you want to? there’s no rush.”
“no, dexy, i'm not tired!” you shook your head.
“okay, okay,” he agreed, hands settling at your side.
a smile appeared on your face as you began to unbutton his collared shirt with quite some force.
“easy, baby, easy,” he chuckled.
“can’t wait, sorry.”
after you neatly folded dex’s top and laid his tie on the coffee table, you repeated the procedure with your (his) shirt.
you giggled, swiping your hands across his wide chest. your tongue grazed your bottom lip, nearly drooling for your boyfriend.
“been waiting for you all day,” you mumbled.
“have you? my patient, patient girl,” dex said, bringing you impossibly closer. you felt the tent in his pants, nudging at your core. dex’s eyes trailed down to your panties. they were white cotton, dotted with pink. they were lined with lace and a little pink bow lodged in the center. they were originally an apology for dex ripping the last pair.
“you wore these on purpose,” dex stated.
“no clue what you’re talking about,” you grinned.
dex pulled you off of him and laid you down on the couch, your hair surrounding you like a halo. you giggled at dex’s manhandling, knowing that you were sleeping well tonight.
you reached up for him, grabbing onto his bicep before pulling him down into a messy kiss. your lips parted almost immediately as dex invaded your mouth with his tongue.
dex removed his trousers and set them aside before pulling himself out of his boxers. he moved his hand down his length a few times, spreading the pre on himself.
you were reaching to pull down your panties, but dex stopped you, eyeing the wet spot.
“keep them on, angel.”
“promise you won’t rip these?” you huffed.
“promise, baby.”
you sighed, dropping your hands back to your side. dex pulled your panties to the side as he slowly eased himself into you.
you whined out, his thickness filling you immediately. dex threw back his head and groaned at your warmth and wetness, holding back on bucking into you. “f-fuck, too much dex.”
“you got it, baby, come on,” he cooed. “‘s okay.”
dex nudged your cervix, making tears prick your eyes. you shut them as they trickled down your face. dex hushed your cries as he started pumping himself in and out of you, kissing your tear-stained face.
you lifted your torso to look down at the wet mess you and dex created, hearing the wet ‘phalps’ fill the room. you giggled, seeing how nasty you two were. your panties weren’t even white anymore, but now see-through.
dex’s pace was now speeding up, drilling into you like he hadn’t seen you in years. your legs closed around dex’s waist, pulling him closer to you.
“mm, dex, don’t stop,” you moaned out.
“would never, princess,” he replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
dex brought his thumb down to your pearl, circling it gently, earning a mewl from you.
“f-fuck, fuck dexy! i’m gonna cum,” your voice strained.
“cum for me, pretty girl, you can do it,” he nearly begged.
your eyes shut closed as you saw white behind them, the familiar rope snapping in your tummy. dex brought his lips down to his throat, nipping at the clammy skin.
dex slowed his pace for a moment, letting you come back to your senses. as a man with strong endurance, he was nowhere near his release.
when you blinked open your eyes, dex’s hand came up to skim your cheek, the wetness now a distant memory.
"you alright, my love?”
your smile is now crooked, still feeling full. “never better. tummy now?”
dex hummed in agreement, flipping you over. you whined as your face squished into the plush throw pillow, arching your back as much as possible.
but, he didn’t enter you again just yet. he slid himself through your panties. you cried out, “dex, stop teasing. stop it.”
he chuckled at the obscene sight, amazed at how dirty you two were. he took one of your arms and put it against your back, providing some leverage for himself.
now, he re-entered you, grunting in ecstasy. he now pressed himself against you, putting almost all his weight on you. you couldn’t run from dex’s hard strokes, but you didn’t want to anyway.
you moaned his name and curses, as dex’s heavy breaths were hot on your shoulder blade.
“that's it, take it.”
you whined back in response, “perv.”
“yeah, honey? wanna tell me how much of a disgusting perv i am?” he asked, still pounding you into the cushions.
dex pushed you more into the pillow, not giving you a chance to reply.
you were so close, and you were dying for the sensation you once had that dex would selflessly deliver every time.
your body fought as you brought it back against dex’s, attempting to help chase your and his high.
the hand behind your back scrambled for a part of dex, any part, just to feel him. he put his strong hand over yours, your frantic rush now eased.
“fuck, doll, i‘m gonna cum.”
you nodded your head, like a dog hearing its favorite words.
dex’s huffs got progressively louder, signalling he was close. his thrusts now stuttered, his other arm now caging you.
you turned your head to the side, and he laid a kiss onto your lips, whispering out ‘i love yous’.
a few moments later, you felt a warm pooling inside you, flooding your panties. dex groaned gutturally louder than he had before.
in barely a second, dex pulled out and flipped you over, continuing to spill on you.
your eyes fluttered open and looked back down at the massacre on your core, and you began to giggle once more.
you threw your forearm over your face, trying to quiet your noises.
dex was now on your side, kissing your temple, asking, “what's funny, angel?”
“look at my bow. it's now drowning in your cum. you said you wouldn’t ruin these.”
“i said i wouldn’t rip them. and, nothing the washer can’t fix.”
ᡕᠵデᡁ᠊╾━ 𖣠
“𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝗋𝖺𝗌𝖻𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗒”
mission overview just after the convention, you head up to the roof to 'get some air.' thats when you see spider-man swinging around, so you decide to light up a conversation.
words 4k
warnings mentions of smoking & vaping (yn and kate), little smau ig at the end? thats pretty much it tho!
the convention was just as long as the others were, which was about an hour more than any average human should be forced to smile at strangers.
i had done my part. i stood next to dad, shook hands, answered questions, faked my laugh, and wore my dress for the entire event without a single verbal complaint. by any standard, i had been an excellent daughter and honored the stark name.
which means i deserved this!
the moment i had finished saying my goodbyes, i ran back to my suite. i changed out of my gown the moment i had entered the restroom, throwing it over the door. i was now in an old stark industries shirt, shorts, and a pair of ugg boots. i dropped all the jewelry i was wearing into the dish, the soft clinks sounding as satisfying as when i put them on.
i picked up the charm bracelet from earlier today and fastened it, feeling cool on my clammy skin.
the rooftop door swung open as i walked onto the cool stone, letting the tokyo night settle over me. the city several floors below was buzzing, lights running in every direction. from up here, it was a low and constant hum.
i found a spot near the edge, a low wall wide enough to sit on if you weren’t thinking about how far the drop was on the other side. the planters surrounding me were doing architectural work with low, warm lights.
i reached into the pocket of my shorts. the vape was small and blush-pink, and wasn't technically supposed to exist, considering the number of people in my life who would send me to outer space for it. i had told kate and val i had stopped, but that wasn't true. dad definitely hadn’t told dad either. i hadn’t told anyone, which was the correct and best decision, one i stood by fully.
i took a long, slow pull and stared at the skyline. this was the part of the trip that nobody saw, not paparazzi, not the avengers, not anyone but me. the relaxing after part of not being looked at and spoken to. nobody needed anything from me. just a girl on a rooftop in tokyo.
i was halfway through a thought about whether the corner store a block down was still open when something twitched in my peripheral vision.
fast, red, and blue. swinging between two buildings to my left with confidence and ease, for someone who defied the laws of the human body and physics.
i sat up straight, blowing the remainder of my hit out. “no way,” i chuckled.
the figure swung wide, moving right, faster than the blink of an eye. i swore he was going to disappear into the city, and that would be in.
instead, i called out like i was a superfan.
“spiderman!”
my voice carried the waves across the rooftop into the open air with a little more volume than i intended. the red and blue figure reached the apex of his swing, then stopped.
well, more like redirected. mid arc, with astonishing fluidity. he swung back, once, then twice, before landing on the low wall at the edge of the rooftop. he crouched, head tilted, looking right at me.
it clicked in my head of two things; one, spiderman was looking straight at me on a rooftop in tokyo, and i had no clue what was etched on my face.
two, i was holding something that definitely did not look like a portable charger.
i quickly slipped it into my pocket, hands now both empty and clasped together in my lap as i sat criss-crossed with apple sauce.
“hi,” i said.
a beat.
“hey,” he said. his voice was muffled a tad by the mask, and he sounded a bit younger than i expected. “did you just uh, yell my name off a roof?”
“i did,” i smiled.
“in tokyo.”
“well, yes, that is where we are.”
another beat. his head leaned the other direction, which i was learning was one of his quirks. “what are you doing here?”
“getting some air,” i said, which wasn't a lie. most of the things i say technically aren't lies.
he looked at me for a second, which was hard to decipher from the mask. “are you sure?”
“yes,” i nodded.
i could tell he was thinking, because he then dropped from the wall onto the rooftop itself, his landing quiet. standing, he was taller than i expected. his suit caught the glow of the city that illuminated it perfectly.
“so,” i said, because i didn’t want our conversation to end. “tokyo.”
“yokyo,” he agreed.
“do you like to patrol internationally, or is this a personal trip?”
“a little bit of both,” he replied, which didn’t tell me much, but piqued my interest regardless. he looked at the skyline, then at me. “you’re not scared,” he said, which was more of a statement than a question.
“of what?”
“most people, when they see spider-man land on their rooftop-”
“i grew up in the avengers tower. my baseline for alarming is pretty sky-high.”
the posture shifted as he had landed on him. “right,” he said. “stark.”
“so you know who i am,” i confirmed, stifling a laugh. i looked at him properly, which i hadn’t done yet, mainly because i was still a little in shock that spider-man was three feet away from me. the mask made it extremely impossible to get anything from his expression, which was frustrating and kinda thrilling in a way i was not going to express.
“yeah, hah, i do,” he scratched the back of his head.
everyone knew i had a face you could read quite well. however, this was a little different. “can i ask ya something?”
“does it bother you? the mask, i mean. like not having people know who you are.”
he was silent for a second, and i got the sense that he was considering it rather than giving a pr answer. “sometimes,” he finally said. “but it’s mainly.. so i can keep the people i care about safe,” he shrugged, a gesture that was quite human. “worth it.”
“how honorable,”
“you say that like it's a bad thing,” he chuckled.
“i say that like it's an interesting thing,” i corrected. “honorable people are rare. in my experience, at least.”
i could tell his eyes were back on me, “what’s your experience?”
“broad. and exhausting.”
that surprised something out of him, not a laugh but close. it was a short and genuine scoff made of the corner of my chest, which did something i ignored.
the conversation drifted the way they normally do on rooftops at night. he asked about the convention, and i told him about it with the same honesty as i do everything else. he listened, but not in the way he was waiting for his turn.
“what about you?” i said at some point. “you’re from new york, right? new york spiderman?”
“the new york spiderman,” he repeated, amused at my question.
“i’m from new york. manhattan,” i offered.
“yeah?” and there it was, something that was in his voice that made it unguarded. “where?”
“..the tower,” i replied simply.
he paused. “right, obviously. i know new york pretty well.”
“you know soho?”
“really well, actually,” he said, and the ease was so natural, like he walked them rather than swung over them. “there’s this bodega–” he stopped.
i curled a brow at him.
“there are a lot of bodegas,” he finished.
“there are,” i agreed. “but you were going to tell me a specific one.”
“was i?”
“you were! ‘there’s this bodega on–’ and then you cut yourself off.”
his reply was silence, which was its own kind of answer.
i looked at the mask for a moment, trying to see if some facial expression would come out. “that’s funny,” i scoffed.
“what is?”
“the way you said that,” you slightly turned to look at the skyline. “it sounded like something someone i know would say. like how specific it was.”
the silence was followed by more silence.
“someone you know,” he carefully said.
“someone i’m figuring out,” i said, which was the same answer i had given a lot of things as of late. you didn’t look at him when you said it. you looked at tokyo, and let the thought sit where it landed.
i appreciated how he didn’t push it. instead, he asked something lighter, and we let the conversation move the way good ones do.
we both spoke a while longer, about the city, about new york, about what it felt like to be somewhere not everyone knew you. he was easy to talk to in a way that settled somewhere in my chest.
eventually, he shifted, which i realized was the shift that meant the interaction was ending.
“i should keep moving,” he said.
“big night of tokyo patrolling,” i said.
“something like that.”
i looked at him one last time, the suit, the mask, and the city behind him, and put it in a mental scrapbook for safekeeping. “it was nice to meet you. officially, now.”
“officially,” he agreed. something in his voice was so soft in a way that wouldn’t make you think he saved lives almost every day. “get back inside the safe.”
“i will.” i paused. “hey, spiderman.”
he turned back, awaiting my answer.
“thanks for doubling back,” i said. “when i yelled.”
another one of his almost-laughs came from him. “anytime,” he said, and then he was gone. a web caught above us, and the city swallowed him back in seconds.
i stood on the rooftop for a moment in the wake of it. a brief moment afterwards, i slowly reached into my pocket.
the blush pink vape reappeared, and i took a long pull as i looked out at the skyline. i smiled for a moment, a genuine smile at that. wide and unguarded and entirely to myself.
i just had a conversation with spider-man on a rooftop in tokyo.
nobody would ever believe this.
i giggled, which was embarrassing considering i was by myself laughing about my experience with a boy. i shook my head after i realized.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
from a rooftop just three skyscrapers over, peter watched.
his mask was pulled back just enough to breathe properly, the cool air against the bottom of his face. he had a clear sight of the hotel roof, which he knew was a lot of information about where he had positioned himself and how intentional that position was.
peter still saw you smiling.
the vape was back, which made him sound a lot like tony stark in his head, but the larger and louder part of his brain was occupied with the thought of you. the way you had shaken your head at the city, the giggle that had carried into the wind.
the bracelet h3 got you caught in the lift when you lifted your hand. the tiny camera charm is jingling.
peter sat with that for a long moment, the city enormous below him. he thought about the way you said you reminded him of someone, knowing who that someone is. he thought about the bodega. he thought about the photobooth strip, sitting in the inner pocket of his jacket in the hotel room a couple of doors down from your suite, because he didn’t have anywhere else to put it.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
the training space tony had organized was on one of the hotel’s lower floors. it was not what peter had expected, which in retrospect he should have anticipated because when was tony stark ever predictable?
it was a conference room, but it was now converted into a training area. the chairs were pushed to the walls, and the carpet was covered with something a little more practical. a rack of equipment near the door that happy probably sourced overnight without being asked because that was just something he did. it wasn’t the lab or compound, but tony looked around when they arrived and made a sound that wasn’t exactly approval, but “it'll do” more so.
peter showed up in his suit, which seemed a little absurd in a hotel, and was now in the middle of a cleared room.
“alright,” tony said, pulling up something on his tablet. “suit response time. friday ran the diagnostics earlier this morning, and one of your web shooters is lagging about fifteen milliseconds, which doesn’t really sound like much,h but–”
“but compounds over a longer sequence,” peter completed his thought. “i actually noticed that last night.”
tony looked up from the tablet with a raised brow, “last night?”
“oh, the– i went out for a bit. just a quick stroll.”
“in tokyo.”
“it's a big city!” peter justified.
tony looked at him with an expression that everyone knew to be cautious of, the one that meant he was not exactly dual-processing, but more like multi-processing. “right,” he finally said. ‘fifteen milliseconds. we are going to fix that this morning before we do anything else.”
peter exhaled quietly. the part that made him feel whole was the tech world. the suit lay out in sections across a cleared table, tony moving through it efficiently. almost like he designed the thing.
peter watched and asked questions about it, and worked on the problems.
“the strength of the web fluid is slightly off as well,” tony said, holding up one of the cartridges to the light. “what have you been shooting at?”
“mainly buildings. just the usual.”
buildings in tokyo are different from buildings in queens, structurally. the anchor points are quite different. you need to recalibrate your instincts, or you're going to have a rough time on a longer swing.” tony set the webbing cartridge down. “how many times did you go out last night?”
“once,” peter truthfully said.
“for how long?”
a pause. “a while.”
tony picked up another cartridge and said nothing, which peter was thankful for because it required his full attention.
they moved into combat after tech work, and tony wasn’t suiting up himself- he was directing, calling sequences, and stepping in to correct a response time.
“web, left, block,” tony called out.
peter moved through it.
“too slow on the block. again.”
again, it was.
“better. now sequence from the top, at full speed.”
peter ran through it. it was good, and he could feel it. the movement shifted into place like gears grinding. it was now a second nature. he doesn't have to think about it, and his body just moves.
he finished the sequence and came back to the center. tony was looking at him. not evaluating, but a different one.
“where are you right now?” tony asked, a bit concerned.
“uh, here,” peter immediately said.
“uh-huh,” tony crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one side. “try again, kid.”
“i’m–i’m focused. i’m good.”
“you ran the sequence clean and well, which tells me your body knows what it’s doing. but your head has been somewhere else since you walked in, which tells me something is disrupting you, which i will identify and eliminate because i do that.” he paused. “is it the project? convention? the fact that tokyo is your first time being out of the country?”
“no, no–it's none of those.”
tony sighed and looked at him steadily. he stayed quiet.
“i know my daughter is in this hotel,” tony said, his tone now more casual,” but that doesn't mean you can goof off, kid.”
peter opened his mouth, then closed it. opened it again, “that's.. it’s not– i mean she’s not–” he stopped. “sorry. i'll focus.”
tony looked at him for a long moment, then resolved into something unreadable. he uncrossed his arms and picked up the tablet. “from the top. full speed.”
peter got back into position. he did not think about the rooftop or how she hid something in her pocket when she saw him and looked at him with the innocence of a fawn. he did not think about the charm bracelet or the giggle that he could replay forever. he ran the sequence.
tony watched and said nothing of it. somehow, that was the most alarming thing of them all.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
a couple of floors up, room service had arrived quickly and silently. a spread across a low, rolling table that was full of fresh fruit, diet cokes, coffee with additives, oats, and best of all, an ashtray.
val was cross-legged on the bed with her camera on the nightstand, filming the room from an ambient angle. she wasn’t actively vlogging, but wanted some footage to work with later. kate was on the chair right next to the open balcony, a bowl of the crunchiest grapes and an ashtray beside her.
i was on the sofa at the end of the bed, knees pulled up, watching tokyo and its residents go about their daily routines. i had slept well, which was notable. i was trying not to think about why.
“okay,” val said, pouring the cream into her already tan coffee. “you have a face.”
“the face i always have, yeah,” i said.
“you have a different face, i mean,” she pointed at me with her cup. ‘kate, does she have a different face?”
kate looked up from her plate and cigarette and studied me with the focus of someone who had known me forever. “yeah,” she said. “slightly different face.”
“i don’t have a different face. no filler or reconstruction since we landed.”
“what happened last night?” val asked, biting her lip.
i looked out the window, and tokyo looked back, unhelpfully.
“i went up to the roof,” i said.
“for air,” kate said.
“for air,” i confirmed a little quicker than i meant to, and then paused.
val sat up straighter now,: and?”
i looked at them both. there was genuinely no reason to build up suspense because they were both looking at me, knowing something had happened, and just waiting for the details.
“i met spider-man,” i said. the room went quiet.
then val said, at quite an astonishing volume, “what?!”
“on the roof, he was swinging past and–”
“you met spiderman,” kate repeated, setting down her cigarette. i guess she has now decided the conversation required her full attention.”on the roof. of our hotel. last night.”
“he swung past me, and i yelled his name,” i said, which sounded more unhinged in the moment than it had felt.
“you yelled his name,” val said with an open jaw.
“and he came back!” i finished.
the silence that followed was fuller than the last. val picked up her camera, pointed it in my face, and thought that it was probably best to put it down. that told me she understood the gravity of the situation more than she was letting on. “okay, tell me everything. from the beginning, and leave out nothing. this sounds better than my whole hangout with hana last month,” val said, pulling her legs beneath her.
“you hung out with hana tanaka?” kate asked.
“yeah, she has a private island. she’s great too. anyways, from the beginning, please.”
so i told them. i told them i went up to the roof and needed some quiet, and left out the vape part, about how he was winging between the buildings and the way his head tilted when he spoke.
“what did you say?” kate asked.
“i said i was getting air.”
“were you?”
“technically.”
val made a sound that wasn't a laugh but not disbelief either. “okay then. keep going.”
i told them about the conversation we had and how easy it was. it felt like i had known him for just thirty seconds. i told them what he said about the people he kept safe, which made kate go silent, the way she did when something hit home.
“that's actually really–”
“i know,” i said.
val cut in, “okay, but also, is he cute? like from what you could tell?”
“i couldn’t tell much,” i said. “but his voice–” i stopped.
both of them looked at me. “his voice was what?” val said.
“it was fine,” i said.
“it was fine,” kate repeated in a disbelieving tone.
“it was a nice voice!” i replied, which was the most i was willing to tell.
val groaned, and i ignored it. i told them that he knew the city well, and then the bodega.
“say that again,” val said, drinking the milk-ridden coffee.
“he started to say something about this bodega and stopped himself mid-sentence, like he caught himself or something.”
“he was going to give you a specific location, kate said as she squished the butt of her cigarette.
“that’s what it sounded like.”
“of a bodega,” val said. “in new york.”
“yeah.”
“spider-man,” kate said slowly. “who is known for being anonymous and tells nobody anything about himself, was about to give you the location of a bodega.”
“and then he stopped,” i added.
val started gently, “y/n, do you not think that’s..?”
“i said it sounded like something someone i know would say,” i told them. “and then he stopped talking for a sec. and then we changed the subject.”
kate and val looked at one another over my head. i watched their silent communication and chose not to analyze it.
“who does it sound like?” val said.
“i don’t know,” i sighed.
“you don’t know?” kate said.
“i don’t know,” i confirmed. “it was probably nothing, he probably just.. i know new york. he's the new york one. that's his whole brand.”
neither of them said anything.
“can you two stop looking at each other like that?”
“we’re not looking at each other like anything,” val said, looking back at me with total innocence that would fool me if i were an idiot.
i pulled my knees tighter to my chest and squished my cheek on them as i looked back out the window. my bracelet felt cool compared to kate’s warm room.
val noticed. of course, she noticed.
“where did that come from?” she asked, directing her eyes towards my wrist. her voice shifted into something much more careful, which means she already has a conclusion in her head,
“some trinket store,” i said. “yesterday.”
“you bought it?” kate asked, crunching away at a grape.
a pause, “someone bought it for me.”
the silence that followed was quite deafening.
“peter bought you a bracelet,” kate repeated to make sure she wasn’t mishearing things.
“he saw it and thought it seemed right for me,” i said, which was almost what he thought verbatim. “not that big of a deal.”
“a boy bought you jewelry!” val squealed.
“a small charm bracelet from a trinket shop.”
val said my name, full seriousness now.
“it has a little camera charm on it,” i observed, mostly to myself. “‘cause of the photobooth.” a smile on my lips.
“okay, whatever.” val finally said, ignoring my daydreaming. so. spiderman. are you gonna think about him?”
“i'm already not thinking about him,” i shook my head.
“you brought him up the second we sat down,” kate noted with a laugh.
“because it was interesting! i’m not going to even think about spider-man. i don't even know who he is. that's the whole point of the mask!”
“some people find that exciting,” val giggled.
i didn’t respond.
“the not knowing,” she continued, swirling her drink. “the mystery of it.”
“val,” i said.
“just saying!”
“i know what you’re saying.”
“do you find it exciting?” kate asked, ending her silence.
i looked at her, then val, then the window. “it was a nice conversation,” i finally said. “that’s all.”
val picked her camera back and aimed it at the window, satisfied or pretending to be. kate went back to eating her grapes. the room settled into the comforting quiet that we could harbor.
but i kept my eyes on the window, and the bracelet sat on my wrist. somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice that sounded like no one particular kept saying, "there's this bodega–”
i didn’t think about it.
not at all.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗸𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗯𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗼𝗽
♫ 𝖥𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖨𝖣 (𝖢𝗈𝗄𝖾 & 𝖱𝗎𝗆 𝖱𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗑) • 𝖱𝗂𝗍𝗈𝗇, 𝖪𝖺𝗁-𝖫𝗈, 𝖦𝖤𝖤 𝖫𝖤𝖤
❤︎ 928,829 💬95,282 ⇆ 327,281 ➤34,290
𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗸𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗯𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗼𝗽 guess my fav color #purp
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𝘃𝗮𝗹𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗱𝘀
♫ 𝖪𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝖨𝗍 𝖡𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 • 𝖱𝗂𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖺
❤︎ 932,382 💬193,048 ⇆ 330,721 ➤29,825
𝘃𝗮𝗹𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗱𝘀
i really dont like my brother @𝗳𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗸𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗱𝘀
@edikted ad
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
supporting cast: @amterasuu @carrotkitten10 @nin0xd @sarkastic1515 @loserinadress @stayingatharryshouse @luciiss9 @swuzzin @vanyaa123 @10iceicebaby @shortcakebbg @b1athanna
a/n: i stayed up til 3am doing this sos so sorry for any mistakes ily all
hello hello idk if requests are open but i love ur work! lowkey can i request ynstark and tony as a yapper ragebaiting type daughter. thank youuu xoxo
“you're my favorite daughter.” “i'm your only daughter!”
words: 1.5k
warnings: fluff/crack, bratty-ish! yn mentioned, one mention of peter x reader, avengers mentioned, i tried very hard on this pls enjoy, AND KEEP THE REQS COMING!!
a/n : tysm nonnie and ofc!! i genuinely cant imagine yn not yapping and ragebaiting tony. i included some tidbits from my current storyline as well.
𑣲⋆you are definitely spending his card until the bank calls and ensures it did not get stolen (even though you have your own with more than enough money in it). tony gets these calls at least once a month and just waves them off, saying your name in response. the bank apologizes for the inconvenience.
𑣲⋆when tony is in the lab, it is rare when he finds a moment of quiet, whether that be from F.R.I.D.A.Y or you. when working on a new project, he purposefully ignores your whines until you have to storm in.
𑣲⋆"can i bother you for a second?" you ask, when it's never just a second. tony sighs, knowing that he's about to get another headache, but it's all for his baby girl. you hop on the nearest table that doesn't have papers, a mug, or important hud technology on it, not waiting for a confirmation. somewhere between you telling a story about val and kate, tony puts his tools down. he convinces himself that the story mildly piqued his interest. F.R.I.D.A.Y knows better and remains quiet.
𑣲⋆one night, tony has a break, and he tries to sit down for a simple movie night by himself. no avengers to bother him and work cast aside. after a long day of school and getting fun drinks with your gals down at soho, you drop your bag and slouch next to your dad. "what's up, princess?" after you answer with a quick "nothing!", you give him a rundown of your day in considerable detail. at this point, the tv displays "are you still watching?" and tony is nodding along with "mhm" as his eyes droop.
𑣲⋆when you come home from school, you come to tony in almost tears. you pout, explaining how your physics teacher gave you an 80% on your project that you (and F.R.I.D.A.Y) spent a week on. in disbelief, tony refuses this answer and immediately calls for a parent-teacher conference. when tony comes back around thirty minutes later, he wipes your tears and gives a pat on the back, saying that it was all taken care of. your grade was bumped to a 95% shortly after.
𑣲⋆after you get caught walking down fifth avenue with some boy (peter), paparazzi went berserk. gossip pages were filled with questions and assumptions (that were slightly true) were made known to nearly everyone. after sneaking back into the tower, tony scolds you for not being more incognito. "why should i ever cover up my outfit?" you say, completely missing the entire point as your dad pinches the bridge of his nose. peter is probably the least of his concerns right now, but he's filing away that questioning for much later (most likely at dinner with the avengers). when you're watching tv together and the headlines have died down, he glances over and says "so. peter, huh?" you pull your knees to your chest and plant your face in them.
𑣲⋆you and your dad have quite similar music taste. the difference is that you have the worst habit of blasting it when you're not wearing your headphones. tony gets away with it because it's his tower. you, on the other hand, get asked to turn it down by all six avengers. you pretend to not hear them.
𑣲⋆on tony's desk, there is a photo of you two from when you were around five. the white, wooden picture frame has a small stain from motor oil because you insisted on 'helping' him fix his suit. he has never cleaned it since.
𑣲⋆natasha is the only avenger you go to when something is terribly wrong, which your father knew and eventually accepted. however, he has not accepted that she won't tell him anything. "she's fine tony. my mouth is zipped shut." "that's not what i asked." "that's exactly what you asked."
𑣲⋆ever since you were young, your personality has been a near replica of tony's. sharp, unpredictable, and always very honest. you voiced your opinions on each and every avenger's suit, as well as weapons, and told them unpromptly. "y'know clint, purple isn't really your color." you were forced to say sorry later that night.
𑣲⋆when finishing up in the lab one evening, tony overheard you talking to kate on the phone, saying that he was your best friend. he has not emotionally recovered since, and hasn't told a soul. he thinks about it quite often, even after you annoy him by saying you flipped off reporters who asked about his new product.
𑣲⋆tony is a very organized man (or at least he tries to be) and keeps everything in order. when exam season starts, your papers are everywhere. glitter-gel pens and imported highlighters are in thor's cookie jar. the blanket you drag everywhere is found in a different spot every day. he angrily but understandingly picks it up and drapes it over you when you nap on the couch every time.
𑣲⋆the avengers have a group chat. naturally, you are no longer in it. when it was first created, you were accidentally added. you freely expressed your opinions on everything, because seriously, who has the android?? they still won't tell you. even though you were removed, tony still screenshots and shows rhodey your texts because only they would find it entertaining.
𑣲⋆you know how to win an argument against your father at all times. make your point louder than his, say it louder than him, and skip away before he can actually come up with a rebuttal. he started doing the same after he took notice after the third time, which made the tower louder than it already was. after nat showed steve how to use google, he searched up "how to call in a noise complaint if you live with the noise complaintees?"
𑣲⋆every single year for your birthday, tony gets you something very high-tech and then very vintage. one year, it was a typewriter from before steve was even born and a hair curler that operated without using your hands. you keep every single gift.
𑣲⋆you have successfully been on three magazine covers before you even pitched yourself. the editors are from tony's pr team, of course. it is the same routine of showing up, looking incredible, and saying something that can be interpreted in any way possible. the most recent magazine quoted that you were "refreshingly real and candid."
𑣲⋆a designer once sent you their entire spring collection without notice because you had been photographed wearing one of their vintage pieces while leaving a coffee shop. you texted a photo of the boxes to val, saying, "let's share ;)'
𑣲⋆you were upgraded to first class on a commercial flight because the stark jet was getting maintenance repairs, and you had somewhere to be within the next 12 hours. you posted a photo of yourself with duck lips on your story, captioned, "roughing it." the comments and shares did not receive it well. tony saw it, liked it, and added it to the extremely long list of reasons he finds you admirable and hilarious.
𑣲⋆you mention tony casually in conversations in ways that make people stop breathing for a hot moment. not exactly saying his full legal name or saying that he just bought a new car, but more like "yeah, my dad couldn't come to the ceremony because he was at a UN thing or something."
𑣲⋆a tabloid once described you as "america's royalty adjacent", which you corrected under their post. "not adajcent." your comment got much traction, which made tony send it to the avengers group chat with one sentence: "laughing out loud."
𑣲⋆someone started a fan account for you without your knowledge. you found out through val and kate, only after wrestling them for val's phone after they would not stop snickering. you followed it, liked three photos, which soon crashed the account from the traction. after being asked about it by a journalist, you simply said "no comment."
𑣲⋆you attended a press event with tony, at which you were asked a question that was obviously a gotcha about your nepotism. you grinned, knowing that it was a bit true, but would never feed into the media's stupid (correct) assumptions. "i mean, someone was going to be his kid. lucky me, aren't i?" the clip ended up with millions of views. tony was probably half of the views. never felt prouder.
𑣲⋆as strong as your personality is, so is your yelp and tik tok account. you leave a comment in expeditious detail at every luxury hotel you stay at. in a recent one, you left four stars instead of five. the reactions online were quite what you expected. "yn stark bashes newest london hotel!" "not nepo-approved." "starks are not satisfied." the hotel's pr team personally reached out to tony's, begging for you to take it down. tony forwarded it to his assistant, and has not heard about it since.
𑣲⋆one of your classmates from bio once asked if you could get them into one of your dad's business events that were exclusively invite only or cost a pretty penny. you got them in, and special access with tony. they have been loyal to you since, which is a bit crazy, since you barely remember even doing so.
𑣲⋆after his assistant told him what it meant, tony attempted to ragebait you. first, it was leaving your curling iron on, which you just yelled at him for almost setting your bathroom on fire. then, shipping your package to the tokyo house rather than the tower. these didn't piss you off that much, but you drew the line at what he said at dinner. "y'know, you really are my favorite daughter!" you smiled until you realized what he had said. you then stopped chewing, swallowed thickly, and yelled, "i'm your only daughter!"
candy apple kisses
dad!bucky barnes x mom!reader
mission parenthood was never to be considered easy, but bucky somehow (slightly) disproved that tonight with your four kids. words 2.5k warnings pure fluff, alpine mentioned!, obv parenting/family dynamics, you and bucky are litch the world's best parents, like two suggestive sentences at the end
you swore you gave up on parties and raves, but right now, your household sounded like one. your living room had the telly on, volume at least at twenty. your son’s action figure’s voice box was exhausting itself. your daughter was playing with her barbies, reenacting a plot she made up. your husband wasn’t even home yet. you shooed alpine off the counter about five times in the past ten minutes.
in the kitchen, you chopped up vegetables for dinner. the pot was already boiling, but there were still two celery sticks to be cut and five carrots to be peeled. you definitely couldn't have asked your kids for help. your two five-year-old twins, grant and becca, were just getting the hang of dull scissors. three-year-old jaime was too focused on drawing circular dinosaurs. winnie, now just barely fourteen months, was still refusing tummy time.
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winnie sat in her high chair at the counter, babbling as she watched you. her binky fell out every twenty minutes or so, making you rinse it with lukewarm water before popping it back in. you had now finished preparing everything. now, when bucky came home, all you had to do was heat the food.
you took winnie out of her high chair, soft little hands feeling your jaw. you put her on the side of your waist as you walked over to the living room. you swore you’ve seen obstacle courses cleaner. toys were everywhere, and you could barely see the white carpet beneath.
“mama, look at my drawing!” jaime squealed as he held up a paper with two green circles and a smiley face.
“look at that!” you smiled. “why don’t you sign it so i can hang it on the fridge?”
“okay, mama,” he laughed, pulling out a blue crayon.
you trekked your way over to grant and becca now, the two divided by a butter-yellow streamer from winnie’s first birthday. bucky swore he got it all.
“now, what's this?” you asked your twins, their backs turned on one another.
“becca’s toys are taking up too much space,” grant whined.
“grant won't stop playing optimus prime’s voice,” she spat.
you raised an eyebrow, kneeling to the two. winnie still held onto you like a koala as you pushed the binky back in, sensing it was about to fall out.
“granton, rebecca, turn around,” your voice now a bit more stern.
everyone in your household knew that full names were intended to be taken as seriously as possible. the two spun around now, staring into their laps.
“look up at mama,” you instructed, tone a tad softer. “is that why you put the yellow streamer there?”
becca nodded. you assumed she put it there in the first place, because she always took charge of her brother, being born ten minutes before grant (which you regret telling her three months ago).
“well, how about you both clean up your toys, and then we can figure out a solution tomorrow, hm? mommy is a bit tired, so she can’t help too much.”
the twins stood up now, silently picking up the figurines and placing them in their respective boxes. “you too, jaime. can you put your crayons and paper back inside the mudroom?”
“yes, mommy,” he said, pushing his chair in.
you sighed out of relief, thankful that there was no fuss or plastic bits shoved up someone’s nose.
you sat on the couch and immediately muted the television, fed up with some talking dog. you threw your head back on the pillow that was against the armrest, closing your eyes. you already felt winnie drifting off, instinctively pulling out the binky and putting it on the coaster behind you. little footsteps were heard approaching, and you opened one eye. grant, becca, and jaime stood in front of you like a firing squad.
their eyes were drooping, and their heads tilted downwards. your lips tugged into a small smile, and you lifted your arm, signalling them to come cuddle. the three climbed on the couch, getting as close as they could. grant came to the side of your arm. becca’s head rested on your thigh. jaime face flat on your shoulder. you pulled the throw blanket into an awkward shape, ensuring all three got some sort of warmth. it was rare to get a moment with all four kids, especially now, since they were all quite different in age, and you were as busy as ever.
you stared up at the ceiling, waiting for the little snores and purrs before you drifted away as well.
｡ﾟ•┈୨✪୧┈• ｡ﾟ
as you and the kids were asleep, bucky had made it home. congress was back in session, so he stayed later than usual some days. the garage hummed shut, and the door unlocked gently. he heard the house being suspiciously quiet, which was rarely ever a good thing, until he heard a crowd of murmurs and huffs. he slipped off his dress shoes and set them on the rack before making his way to the living room.
bucky stopped in his steps, fawning over the sight. his four small children, all asleep on their mother’s body, like a litter of kittens. he snapped out of thought when he felt a bushy tail around his ankle, and looked down to find a pair of blue eyes.
alpine purred, obviously joyed to see bucky after a long day of sleeping on her cat tree and stealing pieces of chicken from the chopping board.
bucky pulled out his phone and took a photo quickly, saving the image to gaze at later when it was his lockscreen. he took a seat beside you five (now six that alpine decided to join), pulling up the blanket that was slipping on becca’s side.
you could’ve assumed that she had senses just as good as her super-soldier father’s, because she woke up just as bucky’s hand brushed over her scalp. her eyes fluttered awake, eyes icy blue. her little pink lips curved into a grin immediately. “daddy!”
he smiled, “hey, princess.” his arms opened up to catch her. his tone was a bit hushed, trying to let you and the rest sleep. “you took a good nap, didn’t you?” he asked, noticing the stray raven wisps of hair. “mhm! mommy wasn’t very happy earlier, so she lay down, and then we all did, and then we took a catnap.”
“oh, i see,” bucky soothed. he knew you were fine this morning, and you were home with jaime and winnie until you picked up the twins from daycare. he wondered what had happened in between it all.
his eyes then wandered to grant, now awake because of his sister’s rambling. “mornin’ bud.”
“hi, daddy,” he yawned. grant now came over and took his usual seat right next to his older sister. “look how clean the floor is?”
“mommy made you do that?”
“no.”
bucky gave a quirked brow.
“maybe.”
bucky hummed at his son’s attempt to cover up his and his sister’s messiness. “good job anyway, you two. i think mommy’s awake now,” he said.
the twins turned around to look at you, but your eyes were still closed. “but mommy’s eyes aren't open,” becca said.
“act’s up, babe.”
your straight lips now curved upwards, smiling at your own defeat. bucky could read you like a book. you now opened your eyes, but not moving your body to disturb winnie or jaime.
your hand came up to cradle winnie’s head as the other reached out for bucky, grasping his hand. “hi, baby. how was work?”
bucky brought your hand up to kiss it, mumbling “good” against it.
“dinner’s ready. just gotta heat up.”
“thank you, my love. can’t believe jaime is still asleep.”
“deep sleeper, isn’t he?” you replied, taking your hand to brush through his dark curls. your shoulder was moist from his saliva, his habit as an open-mouth sleeper remaining consistent.
winnie now cooed awake, gripping your shirt. she blew a raspberry against the skin of your chest, signalling she wanted up.
bucky took winnie from your chest, now lifting her in the air, earning a giggle. when she leveled with bucky’s face, she put one hand on his mouth, the other on his forehead.
you turned your head and gently blew on jaime, a method you learned to wake him without spooking him. he groaned awake, mumbling something that sounded like, “mama” and “five more.”
“come on, bud, time to eat,” bucky patted the boy on his back. he rolled over and sat straight up suddenly, giving bucky a slight jump. erratic little fellow, you both thought.
｡ﾟ•┈୨✪୧┈• ｡ﾟ
you finished washing the dishes with bucky as the kids cleared the table (with a little help). winnie’s high chair had sauce somehow on the back of it, but the crisis was averted when bucky came in with the lysol wipes.
“okay, everyone, it’s bathtime,” you said as you finished the last dish. you threw a towel at bucky with a laugh, knowing what was coming next. you then heard the unmistakable, collective whine.
“mama, please!” “noooo..” “i no wanna,” echoed throughout the kitchen.
you sighed, leaning against the counter.
bucky stepped in, “mommy already reminded you guys once today to tidy up your toys. don’t make her remind you guys you have to clean up again, hm?”
the kids became silent, not wanting a stern talking-to for the second time today.
“daddy’s turn for bath time today. boys, you’re up first.”
you hadn’t expected bucky to step in, because normally you planned for things like this. but tonight, you appreciated his initiative.
bucky came around the counter to you and whispered in your ear, “go take a hot bath. i got it for tonight.”
“are you sure, buck?” you asked, running your hand through his hair. “it’s really okay,” your tone is quiet.
“let me. you’ve had enough for today,” bucky assured.
you gave a tight smile, “okay, yeah. thank you, baby.”
“no worries, doll,” he said as he kissed you. “alright, guys, mommy is going to bed, so say goodnight now, okay?”
you kneeled to jaime and pressed a kiss on his cheek, then becca, then grant. the three gave you a tight hug, pressing the wet spot on your shoulder that still hasn’t dried yet closer to your skin.
“goodnight, you three. mommy loves you so so much,” you cooed.
｡ﾟ•┈୨✪୧┈• ｡ﾟ
bucky was currently struggling as his two sons were splashing bubbles on one another, catching him in the crossfire. either bucky’s hearing improved, or the rubber duckies were especially squeaky today. bucky’s suit was now covered in green candy apple-scented soap and captain america shampoo.
grant and jaime’s waves were now stiff mohawks and had bubble beards. bucky sighed, promising he would read a bedtime story if they let him finish washing them up.
“daddy, why is your hair always so shiny?” jaime asked.
“because daddy combs it more than we do,” grant giggles.
“hey now,” bucky jokingly warns. “it’s because daddy gels it over for work.”
“can we gel our hair one day?”
“i don’t see why not.”
two lotioned and freshly clothed boys now sat on the bathroom counter, still as a tree getting their hair blow-dried.
luckily for him, the girls were much easier. becca told bucky about her day at school and how she spotted a bunny and chased after it, wanting to give alpine a friend. after bucky explained how rodents and cats weren't the best of friends, she said she wouldn’t chase after a bunny again.
winnie was cooing per usual, all giggly to see her dad. bucky always had a soft spot for his kids, especially when they were winnie’s age. he remembers the day she left the hospital and how her entire hand didn’t even cover his pinky finger.
he held winnie in one arm, the hoodie of her frog towel shielding her against bucky’s damp suit. he massaged the last bit of curl cream into becca’s hair, the waves already appearing.
“your hair is getting longer every day, bug,” bucky says, the nickname tugging at his heartstrings.
when becca was two, your family was still living in new york. on the rooftop of your penthouse apartment, there was a little garden where you planted fruits and vegetables. becca would dig in the dirt as an attempt to help “nourish the soil,” as bucky excused, and pulled out the worms.
after a lesson on the importance of the worms, becca caught more and more bugs. worms led to praying mantises, mantises then led to caterpillars. on her third birthday, you and bucky gifted her a monarch butterfly rearing kit. after a couple of weeks of nurturing them, she let them loose, waving bye-bye and giving kisses. the milkweed was immediately removed from your garden upon your instruction.
“really? i want it to be long like aunt ava’s,” she curiously asked.
“if you wait a bit longer, it will,” he replied, squishing the gel before plugging in the diffuser.
winnie smelled of baby powder and vanilla oats, the same as she did when the nurses first cleaned her up. becca preferred her strawberry milk body wash because it smelled like mommy’s danishes.
the boys were sitting on the ottoman outside your and buckys' room, playing with a wooden puzzle.
“ready for bed, you two?” bucky asked as he carried winnie on his shoulders, and becca held onto his hand. she rubbed her eyes, sleep coming to take her again.
“mhm!” the boys said, setting the wooden puzzle on the shelf behind them.
bucky’s usual bedtime routine consisted of, first, getting the kids showered, then tucking them in, from youngest to oldest, showering himself, then spending time with you, in whatever way you both wished.
it was no different from tonight. after three ‘goodnight daddy, i love you daddy' and one “dada” with coos, he showered and slipped into a navy tee and grey sweats. you turned to your side, resting your chin on your hand as he emerged from the bathroom.
“how was that?” you grinned, petting alpine.
“good, actually. we are running out of becca's curl cream, so i'll run by and grab that tomorrow on the way home,” he said, reaching down to kiss you before heading to the nightstand.
bucky took his pills and a sip of water before settling in bed next to you. “i love you so much, you know that? if you asked me twenty years ago where i would be now, i couldn't imagine this.”
“mm, i love you too, baby. but why the sudden pouring out?” you giggled , still appreciative of his words.
“the kids are so young, and i know i’m gonna miss this when they grow up. one day, jaime will hate combovers instead of wishing for one. becca and jaime will be the snarkiest twins at school. god, i can’t even imagine winnie getting any cuter.”
you brought your hand to his face and pulled him in for a kiss, melting at how he was looking into the future.
“i wouldn’t trade it for the world,” you whispered, pulling yourself on top of bucky.
he chuckled, his hands coming up to your sides. “neither would i.”
alpine meowed loudly before exiting through the kitty door.
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a/n: this was sooo fun to write lol i hc bucky and his wife having a big ahh family and obv he's obsessed with them
no one else
target youre dex's love, and he'll treat you as such, because there is no one else. words 1.4k warnings nsfw, smut duh, handjob, fluff if ya squint, size kink, belly bulge, breeding/finishing inside, praise, dom!dex, switch!reader(?), make outs, slightly obsessive dex, overstim, crying, idk this is nasty guys but lmk if i missed anything!
your eyes were slightly fluttering, the tiredness from the day rushing over you. your head dropped gently on dex.. he smelt of sea salt and oak, and a tad of musk. you closed your eyes just momentarily, soaking in the hum of the television and dex’s chilling body temperature.
dex looked down at his body, gazing at your figure. he brought his trembling hand up to your face, stroking a stray hair from your forehead. dex then rested his hand on your cheek, thumb moving in small circles. you were so precious. what did he do to deserve you?
your eyes blinked awake, feeling a large, calloused hand on your cheek. dex stopped his movements for a moment, moving to retract his hand. before he could, though, you set your hand over his. the small, manicured one compared to his rough one.
you removed your hand now, trailing it up dex’s muscular arm to his broad shoulder. “you're so beautiful,” you mumbled out between your sweet lips.
dex hadn’t replied with words, but instead lifted you to sit in his lap. god, he was so big. he was capable of so much, and you weren’t afraid a single bit. your body shifted around, finally settling on his strong thighs. his large arms came around you, hands settling at your lower back. dex peered back up at you with the deepest fucking eyes, looking at you like you were the sweetest girl ever.
“my sweet girl,” he hummed, his grip tightening. it was firm, but not enough to bruise. never enough to bruise. dex would never hurt his girl, and he would never allow her to be hurt.
you pawed at his shirt, begging to get the soft cotton off. “dexy, m’begging you, please.”
“anything for you,” he rasped out, pulling the fitted navy shirt over him. his sculpted body was covered in scars, raised and red. you didn’t care, though. dex earned them. proof he was superhuman.
now, clawing off your own tee, dex pulled you somehow closer. you were wearing the bra he liked. navy, fabric smooth like butter, and cupped your chest perfectly. it was his favorite because it wasn’t like the others that dug into your skin and left marks that you would silently rub before you stepped into the shower.
you snaked your arms around dex, his eyes locked onto you like a target. his eyes were now rimmed with hazel and filled with a deep void of desire. you peered down at his pink lips, laying a warm kiss. it was short, but sweet. dex loved how soft and pliant you were. you would melt in his hands, like strawberry ice cream on a balmy day.
dex wasn’t much different. anytime you would cuddle, ass plush against him, he too would melt. anything you would do had him chasing the high over and over again.
he now chased your lips, pressing back against your smooth ones. they tasted like your banana cream lip gloss and whipped cream. he licked them once before he went in again, tasting all of you. you giggled at his sweet action, a hand snaking to his sandy blonde tufts. you gripped it gently, bringing it towards you. he hummed in satisfaction, the slightest sting of pain thrilling him. “fuck.”
you ran a hand down his chest, down to his abdomen. your pointer finger drew hearts over his abs as you looked back up at him. “can i, baby?” you asked, eyelashes batting. you shifted your hips right over his growing bulge, a wet patch already forming in his grey sweatpants.
he nodded, “yes, f-fuck, love.” your gaze never broke, because that was the real intimate part. dex never took you fully from behind, unless there was a mirror in front of you two, or if he held you against him. he loved looking at your fucked-out face as you took all of him.
your finger trailed down, right above his length. you let it linger there, licking your lips. his hands engulfed your ass as you pulled at the band, letting it snap against his waist. his hips twitched at the action, restraining from bucking up into you.
you pulled him out and cupped your warm hand around him. you could hear dex’s breath hitch, the airflow becoming heavier. after a few jerks, you swiped over the tip, a bead of his sweetness sticking to your thumb. dex whined out, mouth agape. you drew forward, taking advantage of the opening. you kissed the side of his mouth, your spit drowning his shaved skin. he tilted his head to the side to take control of your mouth now, his tongue immediately invading it.
you pulled your underwear to the side, already wet, waiting for him. every time you and dex made love, he knew at this point it was his turn to take the reins. dex dragged his hands up and down your thighs, feeling the soft skin. you hovered over him, not wanting to sink down until he gave the green light, even though you knew you always had it. when it came to dex, anything was plausible.
“my girl needs me now, hm? need me to fuck her good?” he asked with a smooth tone, cupping the curve of your waist.
you nodded with teary eyes, the ache in your cunt worsening by the second. a tear slipped, and dex wiped it away with his thumb, licking the wet streak. the salty trickle now replaced by his damped love that you would go to war for.
dex brought you down slowly, easing into you. no matter how many times you had taken him, it was still far too much. maybe he needed to mold you more, he thought.
you whined pathetically, hands planted right on dex’s chest. he threw his head back in ecstasy, never getting tired of your gummy walls. “move please, please, dex, i need you,” you begged.
he brought you back up before slamming down. a moan etched from you, the noise coming straight from the back of your throat. dex winced with pleasure, getting his fix. he brought his lips to your artery, leaving open-mouthed kisses on the pressure point.
once he saw you catch your breath, he continued his movements, pulling your body back up and down with no effort whatsoever. he’s throbbing inside, tip kissing that sweet spongey spot inside you. you're babbling now, whispering sweet nothings against him. dex glanced at your tummy and the slight bulge in it. he was obsessed with the fact that he could see himself leaving and entering you.
dex closes his eyes, replaying the image over and over. his lips trailed down to your chest, licking and nipping gently at the smooth skin. dex was so proud whenever you took him, falling apart so easily. the fact that you let him every single time, treating him like he hung the moon.
“i-i’m gonna cum, dexy..” you whimpered against his lips, closing your eyes. the tightness in your tummy was ready to snap. “i know, babygirl, let it out,” he moaned back, his jaw unlocked.
you tightened around him, listening to dex’s instructions. you would never disobey him. you were so loyal, like a dog.
“not much longer, baby,” you cried out, eyes tearing up once more. “now, c’mon, sweet girl,” he grunted.
you threw your head back, letting go. you saw stars transform into white, chest heaving.
dex wasn’t far behind, bucking up and his pace increasing. though, he was getting messy. he pushed your hair back before bringing your face back to his. dex smothered you in spit-soaked lips as you were still coming down from your high.
“yeah, that’s it, baby. take fucking all of it,” he groaned. and you did. like his good fucking girl.
you could feel dex’s movements faltering as he gripped harder. “fuck, all mine. where, sweetheart?”
his hand trailed up to your throat, wrapping around it like he could cut off your airway at any given moment. “inside, dex,” a mewl comes from you. “inside me, please!”
dex sobbed at your words, thrusting fully into you. you both came instantaneously. he was still fucking up into you, his cum filling you to the brim. the creamy ring around him made you drool buckets. you whined at dex, laying a lasting sloppy kiss on him. “i love you, dex,” you mumbled.
“i love you too, doll, so fucking much. you’ll never know,” he whispered out, palm back to cradling the back of your head on his chest.
ᡕᠵデᡁ᠊╾━ 𖣠
a/n: hi i haven't written smut since sept-oct so pls dont judge, i also wrote this within like 2 hours so sorry if its rushed </3 this was also inspired by @poindextergirl bc their work is actually goated it made me pause my writing for "operation 481" LOLLL
"𝗍𝗈𝗄𝗒𝗈 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝖿𝗍"
peter parker x stark!reader ➤ main masterlist
◄ 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 ►𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋
mission overview now in the capital of japan, the main four go on to explore ginza. through some sweet gifts and careful interviews, yn eases into her "punishment" words ~5k warnings fluff w peter, sweet moments w tony, small descriptions of clothing, tony being tony again, confession (not to yn), usual celebrity stuff, lmk if i missed anything!
The air of Tokyo was eerily similar to New York. It smelt of food and rain, but it was vaguely floral. Most likely, the cherry blossoms are blooming. The sky was a shade of early evening gold that made everything look like a curated film, which made sense given the fact that fingers of photographers are already itching to press the shutter button.
“Here we go,” Val murmured beside me, rolling back her shoulders. Dad was already ahead of us, moving with ease because he’s been through this a million times.
Happy went beside him, scanning the tarmac. Behind me, the crew was managing our luggage impressively fast. I descended the steps with one hand on my bag and the other hand on the silver railing. The shutters escalated infinitely faster. Someone behind me called my name, then Val and Kate’s. A few of them called out to Dad, asking all about the convention and a new deal he was drafting.
I smiled warmly, shifting into the press’s princess. Nat had coached me since I was twelve, not wanting me to become ‘Tony Stark’s menacing daughter”.
Peter came down the steps behind Kate, and instead of seeing, I heard the moment the photographers took account of him. They were more focused now on the new variable of the most influential figures of New York.
I glanced back at him, seemingly doing well. He gave a small smile and kept his focus on the stairs. I didn’t even have to PR train him! I slowed down so he could catch up with me, falling in step.
“You’re doing fine. Did my dad warn you about this?”
“Kinda. Didn’t expect it to be like this. I feel like a zoo animal.”
“Panda,” I snickered. “You get used to it, though.”
“Do you?”
“Not really,” I admitted. “But you definitely improve at pretending.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up, almost a smile, but not quite yet.
The escalades were waiting beyond the perimeter, already running. Dad slid into the first car, already on a call before the door shut. Happy sent out luggage to the last vehicle, directing it like a ramper.
Kate gently grabbed my arm, “We’re in the second.”
The four of us piled in, the door shutting behind us, cutting off the noise completely. The lighting was dim, and Tokyo was sliding past us as we buckled. The buildings were high, skyscrapers even higher.
Val’s camera was out already, “Day one!” she announced to the lens, showing the scenery.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
The hotel was wide and bright, and it made you feel undressed, which was odd, because I had changed just to avoid that feeling on the plane. The marbling was grey and gold amongst the white. Floral arrangements taller than most. The staff rushed around quietly, because here they welcomed every VIP in the world.
Peter stopped inside the foyer and looked up, taking it all in.
“You’ll get used to it by tomorrow,” Kate said as she read his expression.
“Hope so.”
We drifted to the front desk, where Dad’s assistant was laser-focused on handling everything on her tablet. Our rooms were on the same floor, which I presumed Dad did on purpose.
Peter and I were on opposite ends of the long hallway that smelled of Miss Dior and cedar. Kate and Val were in the middle. Peter’s room was beside them, which made me giggle a little.
The porter set my luggage in the living area of the suite, and I stood near the entrance, taking in the change in environment. A small living area, bedroom, bathroom that was nudged inside the bedroom, and a mini kitchenette beyond it.
My phone’s text tone sounded, interrupting my daydreaming.
Dad: Get some rest. Big day tomorrow, so don’t stay up too late. Love you.
Me: Love you more.
As soon as I heard the “Dad loved your message” notification, I could hear Val’s door opening, then Kate’s, then a knock that definitely was from one of them on the other’s door. I smiled to myself and started unpacking.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
The plan for the next morning was barely a plan to begin with, which meant by 10:00 AM, it was nonexistent. Dad was already in a pre-convention meeting in one of the conference rooms on a lower floor, consuming at least five cups of coffee already. He waved us off with “be back by four,” which sounded more like a suggestion than an actual rule, so none of us really minded. Mrs. Bishop was at her breaking point, not even bothering to give Kate any rules.
“Ginza first,” Val said, camera already rolling as we arrived on the street. “Then wherever else!”
Tokyo, first thing in the morning, was something else. The streets were clean, and people were moving with purpose, straying a bit from New York. Peter walked beside me with his hands in his pockets, looking at everything with precision, something I recognized with the kids who took AP photography. He was mentally framing and adjusting in real time.
“You alright?”
“I’ve just never been outside the country before,” he said. He wasn’t embarrassed, which I liked. He was just being honest.
“Well, what do you think?”
He looked up at the building, then the street, then a group of people who dressed brightly. Harajuku, perhaps?
“I think I’d like to take pictures of everything.”
“Go ahead.”
He looked at me as if I had just introduced a new concept to him. He slipped his phone out, angling it precisely.
Ginza was gorgeous, especially now since I’m older. I didn’t get to experience much of Japan when I was young. The last thing I remember is eating gyoza that Happy cut up for me during a Stark-Fujikawa meeting.
It was beautiful and a bit intimidating, even for us. A good chunk of the stores required an appointment or a recognizable last name.
Val immediately locked in the moment she saw Chanel and Hermes, pulling Kate towards a display window worth God knows how much. She was on a mission, and had to make everyone’s problem. “Guys, look at the new spring collection-” she spoke behind the camera.
I drifted behind them, enjoying the energy between the two. Peter was still slightly in his shell, which was a little cute. However, I still hoped he would lighten up a tad, because it isn’t every day you get to be in the shopping capital of Japan. His hands were still in his pockets.
“No need to pretend you like the Gucci spring collection,” I joked.
“I wasn’t trying–Okay,” he laughed.
“How about we split up? You guys can check out whatever Val plans on spending her allowance on; we’ll be around.”
“Sounds good to me!” Val smiled brightly, looking at me, then Peter, then me once more. Kate just shook her head, silently asking, “Why would you leave me with her?”
I dragged Peter down the blocks of Ginza, the more reclusive area for shops. My favorite part of visiting any country is the small things we can’t get in America.
Next to a fresh bakery, there was a gallery with prints and canvases that made Peter slow his steps for a moment.
“Do you wanna look here?”
“We don’t have to–” he immediately started.
“Peter,” my voice gave the tone that made him go inside as quickly as possible.
I followed behind him, taking in the small trinkets everywhere. There were little postcards, photographs, calligraphy, scrapbooks; a very specific niche. Film cameras and disposable cameras were in a glass case near the checkout, and behind it, a cork wall full of Polaroids. There was minimal space left, but I expected it to be filled by the time we left.
Peter moved slowly through the shop, taking in everything. He stopped in front of a picture, specifically a picture of the Ginza from a street View. It looked grainy, the colors being shades of black, white, and grey.
“My teacher would say the contrast is too deep, but I think it’s pretty cool,” he said quietly.
“Why’s that?”
“Because true things are normally unusual,” he said a little louder now. He apologized for saying it, but I just shook my head, smiling at his artistic perspective.
“Cute.”
Further into the store, between shelves of film and SD cards, there was a small photobooth. It was similar to those in the movies; cramped, had a curtain that only reached to the middle of the doorway, and was worn.
The sign was hand-written with love in Japanese characters, and below it contained small English letters saying, “smile! :)”
“Oh, you know we have to,” I giggled.
“Yeah?” He smiled at me.
“Oh, yeah.”
My predictions were correct, as the booth was just wide enough for Peter and me. I slide the curtain, giving us a false sense of privacy, since nobody else was in the shop.
Peter’s shoulder was nudged against mine, and I felt his warmth trying to stray away from me, which wasn’t going to happen considering the predicament we were in.
“Ready?”
“San, ni, ichi!”
Snap!
The first photo had already been taken, and it was us staring at each other in bewilderment, mid-sentence.
Again, the countdown began, and this time I faced the camera and closed my eyes, doing duck lips as well. Peter attempted to do the same, but he needs to work on it.
“What now?”
I laughed, “Tell me something you never told anyone!”
“Uhm, uh, I still wear my pajama pants from 8th year!”
We both laughed, the shutter of the camera catching us both.
“Last one,” Peter reminded.
Instead of answering with words, I slung my arm around his shoulder, giving a peace sign with both hands, pulling him in. He saw my peace signs, looked up at my bright face, and imitated them. I felt his body stiffen up, like the same stillness from the club, the plane, and the bodega.
A moment after the automated voice said, “Owatta!” Done! And gave a smiley face on the screen.
I looked down to where the strip was printing, still as close as ever to Peter. When it emerged from the slot, Peter gently took it and held it for both of us to see. One was unplanned, one needed polishing, but the last was the cutest. We looked like we had known each other for ages.
“Can I keep it?” I pleaded towards him, giving false puppy eyes.
He laughed and looked at me, “I was about to ask you that.”
“We can always fight over, Mr. Queens.”
“Or,” he said, “I can get a copy made at the place on the last block. I saw it before we came.”
“Look at you being resourceful! I just think you don’t wanna fight me.”
“I don’t think I’d win,” he chuckled.
He smiled at the photo strip, giving me a chance to look at him.
We continued to wander through the shop once more. Around the entrance were the trinkets I didn't notice when we walked in. They had mini figures, keychains, replicas, and so much more. Peter stopped at the stand, and I walked out, needing a breath of fresh air. I presumed he wanted to look at stuff without someone watching over him like a hawk.
He came out about two minutes later, in his hands a small brown bag.
‘What’d you get?” I asked, being my usual nosey self.
“Nothing,” he quickly replied, which we both knew wasn't true.
I didn’t pry; maybe it was for his aunt?
We were almost back to the luxury area of Ginza to find Val and Kate, until he stopped for a moment, making me turn around. “Here,” he said, holding out the brown bag.
Stunned, I took the bag from his hand and glanced at him before opening it and reaching inside. It was a charm bracelet. It had small links for the charms and mini chains connecting them. There was one charm on the first link– a camera. Peter will forever be associated with cameras in my mind.
“Peter,” I began.
“Before you say anything,” he quickly got out, “I know you can buy things on your own, and I know I didn’t have to. I just saw it and wanted to get it for you.” He rubbed the back of his neck again, his ears turning pink. He was a boy of true habits.
“You’re very sweet,” I smiled at the bracelet. “Mind putting it on for me?”
I handed the bracelet to Peter and let him fasten it, the shine reflecting off the metal. It matched with the other bracelets and jewelry on me, as if it was always meant to be there. I tried not to think too hard about it.
“Thank you. Truly,” I said.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
A couple of shops and one photocopy later, we decided to head back to the main street.
We found the duo again, except this time, Val had gotten hair tinsel and a new blush on her face. She was carrying five bags, and Kate was carrying four.
“Only one of these is mine by the way,” She flatly said, exhausted from Val’s early antics.
“Oh, please, they don’t have this back in New York! I think I’ve made some very wise decisions today,” her smile bright as sunshine, camera still somehow in hand.
Peter and I looked at each other, then at the two girls. “Need help?”
“No,” Val said, speaking for both her and Kate. “We’re both fine. Are you guys done shopping? Are you getting cheap on me?”
I laughed, “No, Val, I am not. I got what I wanted.”
“And you, Peter?”
“All good. Very happy with my purchases,” he said, his mind going back to the photo strip and the charm bracelet.
“Great!” Kate said with the most enthusiasm I’ve heard all day, “Let’s go prepare for the convention.”
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
Back at the hotel, somehow by four o’clock, we were all exhausted. It was a miracle we all made it back in one piece, and no mad messages were sent by parents considering Val’s not-so-great reputation with deadlines and curfews.
The afternoon dissolved into a fast yet productive chaos of four teenagers getting ready for a major event, all sharing a sense of occasion. Kate appeared at my door, asking me if I had powder because her makeup artist chose the wrong one. Val sent a snap asking if pumps or kitten heels were cuter. I could hear Peter’s shower running when I walked by at one point.
I stared at my dress, which was hanging on the rack in the closet, exactly where I had put it in the morning. It was an off-the-shoulder gown with a long slit down the skirt. It matched Dad’s tie. It was sent for me specifically because my stylist knew that wherever Dad walked tonight, I’d be right beside him, and looking like a carbon copy.
I sat at the vanity, staring at my flawless makeup as my stylist continued his craft. My hairstylist was finishing the final touches, layering a mist of hairspray. It was actually my favorite part of these events.
When they finished, I promptly thanked them before they exited. I stood in front of the mirror, still in my robe. My eyes wandered to the bracelet on my wrist. I debated on keeping it, but Dad wouldn’t want it clashing with the jewelry picked out.
I unclasped it gently and set it on the jewelry dish on the nightstand. “I’ll come back for you,” I said to myself.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
I now sat straight up at my vanity, scrolling through my feed before I heard a knock. I went up to unlock it, and it was Dad. “Ready?” He looked at me the way he did when we were at these types of events, like he was amazed at how much I’ve grown up. Made us both soft.
“Yeah! You look good.”
“I hope I’ll be hearing a lot of that tonight.” Dad offered his arm, “Shall we?”
The convention floor was exactly how I remembered the last one. Managed carefully and full of networking opportunities. It was extremely hard to get into one of these events, again, if you didn’t have a recognizable last name, company, or a motherload of money. Everyone was polished and not their usual selves, but then again, who would be?
Warm light from the chandeliers glazed over the hall, giving a perfect filter for the night. Dad moved through as if he owned it. Well, if you squint, he kinda did. His ‘charming’ smile and terrible jokes got him the respect and the titles he has now. He shook hands with multiple world leaders, business owners as prominent as him, and met many new faces.
Kate and Val were at my side near the entrance. Kate was in a high-neck dress, adorned in deep purple and silk. Her hair was blown out, contrasting with her usual ponytail. Val’s was a sweetheart-topped dress, the neckline making a cute heart. The pastel blue brought out her eyes, as well as her curled hair.
Behind my two best friends was Peter, looking a bit more comfortable than he had at the airport. His blazer fits well, not too loose nor too tight. I wondered who had intervened. He was doing the usual–staying attentive, but his hands were still in those damn pockets.
“Frankie’s already here,” Val said, eyeing the room. “He texted me from Mom and Dad’s plane. They said they landed an hour ago.
“How is he?” I asked.
“Annoyingly fine, prolly,” She said with that same tone she used whenever talking to or about Franklin.
Kenjiro Fujikawa found us before we found the bar, which was quite impressive on his part.
He looked the same as I saw in the magazines. His hair was grey and slicked back as usual, and his suit was tailored to perfection. His smile was wrinkled and worn with love. He spotted Dad, and his smile grew.
“Tony!” he said, extending his hand.
Dad took it well, his posture now relaxing a tad. “Kenji. Been too long, bud.”
“It has, hasn’t it?” Kenjiro’s eyes moved to me, and his expression was now shocked.
“And this cannot be–”
“It is,” Dad said, smiling proudly.
“I haven’t seen you since you were this big!” he put his hand down to his knee, signifying it’s been a while. “You look more and more like your father every day.”
“She carries the looks in this family, that’s for sure,” Dad said, a hearty laugh coming from Kenjiro.
“I’ll take it,” I smirked.
The two both fell into conversation about the convention, Stark-Fujikawa, and more about the future of business. I stayed by Dad’s shoulder, which was helpful to us both in these situations. My presence next to him reminded people he was a father alongside his other great endeavors, and his presence next to me helped me gain more knowledge of his associates.
Kenjiro shook my hand, firm and warm, and told me it was nice to see me after fifteen years. He was a genuine man, and both Dad and I appreciated it.
Eleanor Bishop found Kate the way she normally did–with precision and a complaint.
I saw her advance from across the room, and I was debating on warning Kate that in the next five seconds, the hawk is on the hunt. I took a sip of my sparkling water that someone handed me instead.
“Katherine,” Eleanor greeted as she stood next to Kate, preparing to observe her from head to toe.
Kate slightly turned, “Mom. Hi.”
She analyzed Kate’s makeup, hair, the ‘low’ cut of her dress, and then her earrings. Her thoroughness was not acquired through being a housewife, that’s for sure.
“We did not agree upon half of the things you are wearing right now.”
“I’m aware,” Kate gleamed, holding back the biggest shit-eating grin known to man.
“So you knew and wore them regardless.”
“They looked better with the dress.”
Eleanor chose not to entertain her daughter’s rebellion and turned to me, shifting into a more welcoming tone. “Y/n, you look stunning, dear.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Bishop. You as well.”
“And you, Valeria.” She acknowledged Val with a nod, cordial yet still grading.
“Ma’am,” Val returned with respect.
Eleanor’s strong gaze now moved to Peter, which was almost as funny as it was terrifying for him. There was a slight pause, recalibration, if you will. The neutrality that made people really scratch their heads to ask if it was a backhanded compliment ot not.
A third variable, he was. “And you are?”
“Peter,” he squeaked out. “Peter Parker. I’m schoolmates with Kate, Val, and Y/n.”
“Peter,” she repeated, making a mental note.
Kate looked at her mother with a tired look, “He’s with us, Mom. Mr. Stark brought him.”
Nothing was said by Eleanor after, not even a hum, which could mean a variety of things. In my eyes, it was approval that could never be replicated. Her eyes now moved to Dad, giving us all a sigh of relief as they jabbered about the convention program.
Kate gave me an eyeroll, and I returned it graciously with the tiniest grin.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
Franklin Richards found Val as he always did, because God forbid she’s anywhere but away from him. He was already preparing his insults and snarky jokes.
“Nice dress,” he said, bumping Val’s shoulder. “Mom pick it?”
Val turned to him quickly, “Wanna say that again louder?”
Franklin smirked at his successful attempt at ragebaiting his sister, not even five minutes after seeing her. He was taller than the last time I remembered, which reminded me that the rest of us had stopped growing long ago. He looked around the group, knowing Val wouldn't be seen with anyone else at these events.
He looked past us, saying, “Parker?” with the biggest surprise and smile.
Standing at the side, Peter looked up, and the confusion clouded his face before it went to a toothy smile. “Frankie! Hey!”
“What are you doing here, dude?” He had asked, already moving to dap up the younger boy. He clapped Peter on the shoulder, a common formality between the two, I presumed.
“You were like fifteen the last time I saw you, right?”
“Yeah, fifteen or sixteen,” his smile genuine. “You were like doing that thing in the chem lab.”
“Very specific,” Franklin laughs.
“You wouldn’t let me do anything, man!”
“I was the senior, you were the sophomore, I stand on that decision.” Franklin looked at Peter, then the rest of us, and I swear he had a fat loading bubble on his forehead. He looked at Val, and she returned the look.
“Don’t,” she mouthed.
Franklin didn’t say anything, which made it somehow worse.
The press was finally let into the convention, which was not alerted to anyone in the room. They were at the far end of the room, sectioned off. Their cheers and pleas for us to be seen were heard quite well from the outside of the hall, making half of the room groan.
An associate gestured towards Dad’s direction, and he acknowledged it, leaning towards me. “Don’t disappear now, little lady. Gotta show your fans what you're wearing so it can sell out tomorrow.”
‘I wasn't going to,” I lied through my teeth.
“You were checking how many paces it was to the restroom.”
I dropped my shoulders with a groan, knowing my Dad was right. Kate and Val moved to the carpeted area as quickly as they could, wanting to get it over with. I fell in beside them and arranged ourselves into the normal formation. Kate, me, then Val, respectively, as it always had been since we were kids.
The cameras immediately started shuttering, blinding lights from the crowd. They called our names occasionally, grabbing our attention to get the perfect photo.
You know the moment that you see something in your peripheral vision, but you choose to ignore it? That something was Peter as of right now. He stayed back, which was the correct choice. He stood near the tables at the edge of the area, again, hands in pocket watching.
Rather than watching the cameras, he was watching us. I didn’t look at him, but I knew he was there.
Franklin appeared beside him shortly after I noticed, which I quickly converted into a smile.
Peter watched the shutter of the cameras blind the three of us, instead of standing to the side like a flamingo.
“Chill,” Franklin advised, elbowing him gently. Family trait at this point. “You look like you're calculating something.”
“I’m not,” Peter quickly replied.
“Well, you’re doing something.” Franklin leaned against the high table beside him, looking at the scene with comfort. He was never really for the cameras, having quite a private and quiet social life in comparison to his younger sister. All of his social media was private; he avoided paparazzi whenever he was out, rarely showing up for public events unless it was for his family.
He made his peace with solitude and kept it that way. “How do you know the other two?”
“School,” Peter said. “And uh, it’s a long story.”
Franklin hummed and looked at him from the side, “Which one?”
Peter didn’t reply, which gave Franklin enough of an answer to know.
“For what it’s worth,” he said, looking back at the press, “She’s a great person. Genuinely. Like, she didn’t have to be like this, especially because of her complicated life. She knows how to navigate both worlds.”
Peter looked at him, face pale.
“Now, I'm not saying anything,” Franklin’s tone went back to its normal, playful self. “I'm just making some conversation,” he shrugged.
“Right,” Peter said.
A brief pause, until Franklin spoke out again. “Parker.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re calculating again.”
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
After a billion photos, the interviewers made their way through the photographers as they always did, doing whatever it takes to get a word. Inevitable, if you will.
A journalist who looked familiar from some gossip outlet was in the crowd, mic already connected, and a cameraman behind her. She caught Dad immediately, waiting for this moment for the past month.
Dad knew she was coming and moved with purpose, which meant I followed.
“Mr. Stark, a quick word, please?” She asked.
“Sure,” he easily agreed. “You already know my daughter, Y/n.”
“Of course!” She smiled at me. “Mind if I include you?”
“My pleasure.”
Her large mic came inches away from the bottom of Dad’s jaw, “Mr. Stark, what brings Stark Industries to Japan this year specifically?”
As expected, Dad’s perfectly smooth answer got her buzzing. The talk about partnership, innovation, and new HUD technology created a large smile on her face, knowing she’s getting a nice bonus when she gets back to work. I stood there and looked at Dad, taking in the information.
In a flash, she turned to me. “Y/n, you’ve been more and more visible at events hosting and featuring Stark Industries in recent years. Is there a future for you in the company whatsoever?”
My mind went totally blank, because in truth, I hadn’t really thought about it. Not in any specific way. I knew the company in many ways, but not in the way people were asking.
I felt Dad slightly stiffen beside me, not intervening. He wanted me to answer in my honest opinion, his own way of pride in me.
“I believe,” I started, hoping it would come to me as I spoke. “That Stark Industries has been a part of my life ever since I was young, so it is not really a separate thing I must decide. If I end up formally involved or not, it’s already in the framework. How I approach and solve problems,” I paused for a moment, thinking of a warm conclusion that still gives a more positive answer.
“Formally though? Most likely so, yes. It’d be hard to stray away from something that has been with me my entire life.”
The journalist nodded happily, getting the true answer she wished for. “And Mr. Stark, what are your thoughts on her answer?”
Dad’s gaze went from the journalist to me. His voice was now a bit less professional and more comfortable. “She’s already better at this than I was at her age. And I was quite exceptional at her age, so that is saying something,” he said with a smile.
A warm feeling moved through my chest, but then he decided to continue.
His tone now shifting to the terrible joke he was about to say, “The company would be lucky to have her. Assuming, of course, she can be on time for things, which remains open.”
“Dad–” I quickly tried to shut it down.
“Developing a skillset and sticking with it!” He emphasized to the journalist. “We are working on it!”
She laughed as I shook my head with embarrassment, because Tony Stark was like any other Dad on the planet.
But we were both smiling, which was a big win for us both.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
supporting cast: @amterasuu @carrotkitten10 @nin0xd @sarkastic1515 @loserinadress @stayingatharryshouse @luciiss9 @swuzzin @vanyaa123 @10iceicebaby @shortcakebbg
a/n hi two chapters one day wooo its 1:14 on a school night but #idgaf ill try to get the next chapter this weekend or next!
"𝗈𝗇 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽 9"
𝗉𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄𝖾𝗋 𝗑 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗄!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ➤ main masterlist
◄ 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 ►𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋
mission overview after a punishment only tony stark could give was ensured, the stark jet is the one place you could expect to see these four. they aren't fantastic, but definitely something. words 3k warnings plot, more world building, tony being tony, cute fluff moments with peter and yn, very teenager things
After I had slammed the door to my room and apologized right after Nat yelled at me, I asked one of the butlers to bring me my suitcases. Five to be exact. One for each day, of course.
I normally enjoyed packing, but under these circumstances? I’d rather be in a cage with Hulk.
I grabbed my phone and rang Val and Kate, hoping their punishments were better than mine.
They answered almost immediately, probably wondering how I managed to do this this morning.
“Hey, Y/n,” Kate sighs.
“Hi guys,” I returned the sigh.
“How much did your dad flip out?” Val asked
“Probably just as much as yours.”
“My mom just yelled at me for getting caught,” Kate stated flatly.
“Uncle Johnny didn’t care too much, but I got a mouthful from mom, dad, and Uncle Ben. Then they yelled at Franklin for letting me back in,” Val said as she combed her soft waves. “Any consequences for you guys? I can’t use the fantasticar for a month.”
“My mom just told me to go to my room; she wasn't even home to yell at me.”
“You guys are so lucky. I have to go to Japan with my Dad.”
“That’s not even bad!”
“Yeah, I would agree, but it's for a business convention.”
“Ouch,” Kate winced.
“I know, I have to start packing like right now,” I moped.
“Hey, when you went off with Peter, did anything happen?” Kate nudged with a smirk.
“What does that mean?” I laughed, “Of course not. I mean, he’s cute and whatnot, but he’s kinda..” I trailed off.
“Nerdy?” Val guessed as she was writing something down.
“Awkward,” Kate tried.
“I don’t really know the word, but I think I should try to talk to him at school on Monday.”
“You haven’t had a boyfriend that wasn’t PR in forever, live a little,” Val pushed.
“Maybe. Are your guy’s parents going to the convention?”
“Yeah, both mine and Val’s. Why? Do you want us to come?” She chuckled.
“I’d prefer that, yes.” I silently hoped.
“I’ll beg my mom, but if all else fails, I'm asking Uncle Johnny,”
“She probably wants me to go anyway, so sure,”
“You guys are the best. I’ll text you later.”
I hung up the phone and put it to charge as I walked into my abundantly large closet. Pieces from New York Fashion Week to exclusive Chanel spring collections died in this closet.
I sighed, mentally preparing myself to spend the next three hours packing.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
After three packed suitcases, five handbags, and one duffle were set, I decided to sit in the lounge for a change of scenery. I went through my texts, my eyes catching on Peter’s. Should I text him? I know I said I would see him at school, but would texting him hurt?
I clicked on the contact, typing, “Hi Peter, what’s up?” My finger hovered over the blue button, hesitating to send it. I was thinking YOLO, but I have also had enough embarrassment for one week. Just as I was about to send it, I heard my dad enter the room.
“Hey, muffin,” He said. “Who ya texting?”
“This kid from school,” I exhaled, deleting the message. “I’m done packing.”
“Great,” he replied, taking a seat next to me on the couch. “First time in Japan since you were little. Nervous?”
“Not really. I made sure to pack my best outfits, though,” I answered.
“Good that you’re not nervous, because I’m bringing a friend along,” he gleamed, giving me a sturdy pat on my knee.
“Who? Like Steve or Bruce?”
“No, actually, it’s a kid around your age.”
“Would I know them?”
“Not sure, because I’m not telling you.”
“Dad! Why? Is this because of last night? I already said sorry.”
“No, but let's pretend it is. You’ll find out on the apron! Yay, surprise!”
I groaned again, putting my knees up to squish my head on them.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
It was the last day of school for the week before the long weekend, and I decided to swallow my doubt and try to find Peter. I normally saw him when passing my math class, so my best bet was probably there.
My stomach churned as I walked through the wide hallway, smiling at friends passing by as if my heart wasn’t in my arse currently.
I saw a brunette in a blue Henley and a loving best friend next to him. I gently tapped Peter’s shoulder, trying not to spook him.
Ned noticed me as Peter turned around, just as surprised as his friend was. “Hi Peter, Hi Ned.”
“H-hey again!” They both said.
“What are you doing here?” Peter asked timidly.
“Well, I did say I was going to say hi at school, right?”
“Right,” Peter mentally pinches himself. “Do you have class nearby?”
“Yeah, my math class is like two doors down, but I have lunch right now.”
“I have math too!” Ned smiled. “Mr. Sterling may kill me, I forgot to bring my calculator,” he said as he scowled.
I thought for a moment, then swung my bag around to dig inside. I pulled out a pink TI-84 and handed it to Ned. “Take mine. The unit I’m in right now doesn’t need them much.”
“Are you sure?” Ned asks in disbelief.
“Yeah! It’s no worries,” I urged.
Ned smiled in shock and gratitude as he ran off to class, excited to use a less crappy calculator.
Peter and I stood next to his locker, eyes averting from each other.
“So, what do you have right now?” I asked him.
“I have lunch as well,”
“Ah, I see,” I awkwardly said. Talking to everyone else is so easy. Why am I having trouble with him? “All my friends are taking tests, so their lunches are after mine. Do you wanna maybe get something with me?”
Peter went stiff for a moment, mouth slightly agape. When he realized he hadn’t answered yet, he gave an affirmative nod, saying, “Yeah! I’d love to.”
I smiled and said, “Okay! Do you have anywhere in mind?”
“Ever been to a bodega?”
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
Peter and I sat on the stairs of an apartment complex, eating our rolls.
“Y’know,” I started, “This is my first time having this. You put me on,” I chuckled.
“Really? I get these whenever I can. Ned actually showed me this specific spot.”
“He’s got good taste,” I said, chewing on the warm deliciousness.
“Are you still allowed out after that news article?”
“Oh my gosh, you saw that too?” I asked, covering my face with my hands.
He laughed, “Hey, it's no problem! You could’ve been caught doing worse.”
“See, that’s what I tried to tell Dad, but he, Nat, and Steve were not having it,” I rolled my eyes, taking another bite.
“He’ll get over it, I assure you. I’m actually going out of the country for the weekend, he started.
“No way! Me too! I’m going to–”
Just as I was about to finish, the timer that I set for getting back to school went off.
“Damn, it’s already time to go back.”
“Peace can’t last forever,” Peter joked. “I’m happy you enjoyed lunch, though.”
“I’m happy you showed this place to me. I think it’ll be seeing me a lot more often on the inside rather than outside.”
The rest of my day was full of clarity.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
My alarm went off, sounding louder than usual as it did on schooldays. It was now Wednesday, the first day of the long weekend.
I rolled out of bed and tidied myself up, thankfully not having to worry about my luggage besides my large tote. I double checked all my essentials were in there before I went to the kitchen.
As usual, blueberry muffins were fresh in the center of the counter. Next to them, a halfway empty box of Strawberry Pop-Tarts.
“I’m not cleaning that up,” I thought to myself. “That’s all Thor at three AM.”
Dad’s voice carried down the hallway, something sharp and grounding the way it only got when he was on a work call. It was something like landing times and press.
I took a muffin and left Thor’s mess exactly where it was.
I should've been thinking about the flights, or the press that will greet me almost immediately once I step foot off that plane. Or the fact that I have to smile for three hours at Dad’s convention.
As I clouded my mind with thoughts of Dad’s words of “a kid around your age”, I heard him enter the living area.
“Hey, hun, Sue, Reed, and Eleanor said that Kate and Val are coming along. Franklin is still deciding on the Richards’ plane or ours, but he’ll most likely be on the Richards.”
“Sounds good,” watching him go back to his office to finalize a few things before we departed.
Dad didn’t do anything without a reasonable explanation. He was surely a handful of things, but random and spontaneous was not one of them. He was way too pleased with himself not to have planned this.
I zipped my tote and sighed at the nothingness coming to my mind.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
The apron was already buzzing by the time we arrived. Happy was a few steps in front of us with Dad and my suitcases, muttering under his breath about weight limits and how I somehow ignore him every time.
My wired headphones were already in, tangled across my chest. My tote sagged on my shoulder, heavy with all the essentials. The jet was already powered up and gleaming on the tarmac.
I saw Val and Kate making their way over, because Franklin would never not make his sister walk 100 feet over. No matter the event or day, Val was already dolled up.
Kate was wearing a sweatsuit and a duffle that carried God knows what. I was about to wave over, until I saw a figure I didn't know. He was standing a few feet away from the jet’s stairs, and with him was luggage that looked more camp-y than our intended trip. He was staring up at the plane in awe, probably hoping he wouldn’t get sky-sick.
When he looked to the side at the front of the jet, I saw that familiar side profile. One that looked like a puppy, and had tussles of dark brown hair, I had remembered smelling like sea salt.
My lips tightened into a thin line before I slowly turned to my dad. “Really?”
“Funny how the world works, huh?”
Val appeared at my side at almost once, “Is that–”
“Yeah.”
“Well, that’s nice,” Kate laughed. She was smiling ear to ear, already loading her terrible jokes.
Of course, mid laugh between my two friends, Peter decides to turn around now. His brown eyes found mine, and his lips slightly parted. The grip he had around his backpack now tightened. I watched him put two and two together, his brows raising in either fear or happiness.
Dad stepped forward and patted his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Peter, you’ve met my daughter, yes?”
“Uh, I-” Peter stammered.
“We go to the same school,” I quickly ended the vulnerable moment. “Hello, Peter.”
“Hi,” he managed to finally get out. I heard a faint, “Of course, I’m an idiot.”
Dad looked between the two of us, and his face had the biggest grin on it. I chose to ignore it and not play his game. “Small world,” he remarks, already halfway up the steps.
Behind me, I heard Val and Kate’s snickers, not even trying to muffle them.
“Don’t.”
They continued laughing anyway.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
The jet leveled over the Atlantic, and the hum of the engine felt like white noise now. Dad has disappeared to his own section, with a large cup of coffee and his laptop. Four teenagers at thirty thousand feet in the air without supervision doesn’t seem like the wisest decision.
Kate had kicked off her shoes, and Val had her film camera out already.
“Val, if that clunk of metal is pointed at me before I’ve had a nap and something to drink, I’m throwing it out the exit,” Kate said without looking up from her phone.
“Relax, I'm just doing an intro,” Val answered, angling her camera to the window, taking in the clouds and mid-day sun. She’s had her channel since she was around fourteen, mainly because her face had always been in the press anyway, so she was deciding to profit off it too. The way she spoke and acted effortlessly on camera was a gift.
“Guys, look at the clouds and sun! This vlog is extra special because–”
“Are you gonna tell them where we’re headed, or are you gonna let them figure it out from the clouds?” Kate asked.
“The clouds are aesthetic, Kate. And we are going to Tokyo.”
“The clouds look like clouds.”
Peter, whom I kindly let have the window seat, was taking advantage of it and mindlessly staring out of it. He’s been silent as a mouse since takeoff. I imagined he was trying to take up as little space as he could. He let out a short laugh, and Val’s camera swung over immediately.
“And we have a new face! Say hi.”
“Me?”
“Everyone knows the three of us.”
“I’m Peter, hi,” he gave a sweet smile.
“Peter goes to school with us,” I offered a snippet of info to Val’s viewers.
“He does!” She confirmed, still aiming the camera at him. “Peter, are you surviving Mr. Lewis’ project, or are you planning on dropping out entirely?”
Peter’s face softened into something more comfortable, happy that he can relate to at least one thing amongst nepo babies. “I turned in the outline like last week, and he replied with six comments. None of them were helpful whatsoever.”
“Six?” Kate leaned forward. “I got four, and I almost sobbed.”
“He told me my thesis was ‘directionally and exclusively interesting’. I’m fairly sure that means he hated it,” I added.
Peter confirms, “It means he hated it. Flash got the same comment last quarter, and he got a C minus.”
“A C minus, guys, send prayers for Y/n’s thesis, would ya?” Val flips the camera at herself before turning it back to Peter and me.
“My thesis is fine!” I said, throwing a plush pillow at her.
Val caught it without even disturbing the camera’s filming, which impressed me a little, to be honest. She panned the camera to the cabin before setting it down so all four of us were visible.
“What even is the project?” Peter asked. “Like the prompt, what is it? I swearr everyone got different versions of the instructions.”
“Okay, so that’s actually because he changed the prompt and instructions halfway through!” Kae gleamed sarcastically, her smile just the same. “It was just a research paper at first, but now we have to add a practical component?”
“I found out about the practical component from Alyssa in fifth period,” I sighed. “Not Mr. Lewis himself.”
“Same,” Val said. “He said it to the first-period AP, and then I guess he assumed the word would pass along? This man does not follow the syllabus.
Peter rubbed his nape, saying, “I’ve been a model for the practical component for like a week and a half. I didn’t even know it was optional.
We all stared at him with raised brows. “It’s optional?” he asked quietly.
“Very optional,” Kate confirmed.
He slouched in the leather chair for a moment, “No, that’s cool. I’m fine. It’s fine.”
Val zoomed in on his face for three seconds before panning back, which made me nearly cackle.
Our conversations drifted for a while after that, and unfolded the way the best conversations normally do. Somewhere over the ocean, Val started to film the view outside the window again.
Kate’s seat was fully reclined, and she was reading something on her phone now. The cabin was silent, but calm. Peter spoke again, and it felt like a ripple in the stream.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” I replied, putting my phone face down.
“What is it like?” He asked. “I mean, living in the tower with all of them.”
I considered the question clearly, which was something I didn’t really do when asked things like that. Especially if I was being interviewed. People wanted gossip, insight into something they could never reach. Peter just seemed like the average curious teen boy.
He almost followed up with a ‘sorry’, afraid that he was being too personal too quickly.
‘Loud,” I answered the boy finally. ‘Very loud. But it’s my normal, which is kinda strange. They’re my family.”
“What’s the strange bit?”
“Thor leaves his earth snacks everywhere, just for Dad to tell me to pick them up. Nat reorganizes the fridge and doesn’t tell anyone, which annoys us for the week. Clint cooks, and I enjoy it more than when our actual chef cooks sometimes,” I shrugged. “It’s not much different than living with anyone else. Occasionally, someone punches the wall, or a beam cuts the table in half, and we don’t really blink an eye.”
Peter smiled at my answer, glad I was comfortable speaking about it. “And is it okay?”
“Nearly most of the time, yeah,” I honestly said.
He nodded slowly, his face looked like he was writing it down in his mental journal. The silence came back around and calmed us again.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔⎊᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
supporting cast: @amterasuu @carrotkitten10 @nin0xd @sarkastic1515 @loserinadress @stayingatharryshouse @luciiss9 @swuzzin @vanyaa123 @10iceicebaby @shortcakebbg
a/n : hi this is so slowburn LOL im trying my best to keep u guys invested