mike realized his parents didn't love each other when he was very young, and he rationalized this as all couples don't love each other. that's until he sees the way steve treats you.
c.w. none, a little angsty in the beginning but not really sad, mostly fluff, canon divergent bc i'm pretending the byers never moved to california and max is still hanging out with the party
a/n: wrote this instead of studying for finals, do not bring ship wars into the reblogs. this is me psychoanalyzing a sad teenage boy and writing self-indulgent domestic fluff
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Mike Wheeler's parents do not love each other. Maybe they have some semblance of love between them, but they are not engaged in the act of love. He isn't quite sure at what age, or even exactly when, he realized this. He can't point to one exact day of his life but rather a blur of the hundreds of evenings he's spent the same way.
Sitting at the dinner table with his parents and two sisters while his mother puts out emotional fires and his father picks at his chicken then tells his mom it's over salted. Nancy has a teeth-cleaning on Saturday so she needs to move her date with Jonathan. Also how is her chemistry grade? Mrs. Sinclair recommended a great tutor. Holly's daycare closes early tomorrow so someone needs to pick her up. Does one of Mike's friends want to earn some cash babysitting? Oh and is Mike still going out with his friends after school tomorrow?
Somewhere in the middle of his mother's rambles his father will stand up muttering a "thank you," not to be polite but because it's expected, and walks over to the couch to watch TV without putting his dish in the sink. He'll watch whatever sports game is on and crack a beer while his mother cleans the kitchen.
There is no animosity or arguing between Ted and Karen, only tolerance and mutual existence.
Eventually, the idea of love becomes near repulsive to him. The idea of his parents engaging in any sort of affection makes him nauseous. It's not the childish disgust Lucas has seeing his father kiss his mother but a deep-seated discomfort. A part of him (smaller or bigger than he'd like, he's not quite sure) believes love doesn't exist. It's simply a pleasant lie society feeds one another, because the idea of being alone is terrifying.
That's until he finds himself half-asleep on Steve Harrington's living room floor.
He's been having a lot of sleepovers with his friends since the Starcourt Mall incident. None of them want to be the person who says it but they're all terrified of being alone. He's woken up quite a few times in a cold sweat with gory images in his mind, and he doubts he's the only one. Steve's parents are hardly ever in town so his house becomes the designated place for sleepovers.
The credits are rolling for whatever movie they watched, Mike can't remember because he fell asleep half-way through. His memory is hazy of what time they started but if he had to guess it's probably close to one in the morning.
Dustin is fast asleep next to him on the floor and Will's knocked out on the couch above them. They had been designing their characters for a new DND campaign, Mike's pretty sure there's pen on his cheek from falling asleep while writing the character details.
One of the other side of the couch Max is squished between El and Lucas, and he sincerely doubts she'll mind come morning. She'll probably be grateful considering she's been having some of the worst nightmares.
His eyes make his way over to the loveseat where you had been sitting with Steve. What once started as a respectable distance to avoid incurring any teasing has disappeared. You're leaning on Steve, curled into his side and he has an arm wrapped around you, rubbing your shoulders. You're trying to focus on the credits, dangerously close to dozing off while Steve stares down at you with something in his eyes Mike can't quite understand.
What he does understand is that his parents have never held each other like that.
"You sleepin' over there baby?" Steve's voice is a soft murmur, smiling as he looks down at you.
"Mmmm…" you let out a sleepy hum, barely acknowledging his words before burrowing deeper into his side.
Steve's smile widens in response and all of a sudden Mike's stomach twists. It's not disgust or repulsion but… embarrassment. He's intruding on something special, he should just close his eyes and go back to sleep. That's what he should do, but he can't bring himself to.
"Mmm…. need to put… the kids,” you mumble just barely comprehensible in your sleepy stupor.
“What about the kids sweetheart?” Steve whispers brushing hair out of your face.
“Put em to bed….” you’re practically in Steve’s lap despite the fact the loveseat was made for two. “Mike and Dustin are on the floor… and clean up…..”
“I’ll do it,” Steve murmurs gently and kisses your forehead, “but first I'm putting you to bed.”
“No…..” your brow furrows in your half conscious state.
“Yes,” Steve smooths out the crease with his thumb and kisses your cheek. Then in one smooth movement he’s standing up and hoisting you into his arms, all while making sure the blanket is still tucked around you. You let out a quiet giggle when he picks you up and he notices.
"Having fun over there?" he teases quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. It's almost a knee-jerk reaction, he can't keep his lips off you.
"I feel special," you whisper as if you're sharing a secret and Steve's face softens even more. Mike didn't know it was possible for someone to look at another person like that.
"You are special," Steve whispers in that same secretive tone and kisses your forehead. "C'mon pretty, let's get you to bed."
Your words fade into quiet indecipherable whispers and giggles as Steve carries you to and up the staircase and Mike finds himself staring at the empty loveseat. A million thoughts swirling in his head and none at the same time. He's about to sit up when he hears Steve coming down the staircase and immediately closes his eyes, pretending to be asleep.
He doesn't know why, he could just pretend he woke up now. He doesn't have to give Steve any indication that he witnessed their intimate moment, but for some reason a part of him believe that waking up now would ruin something. Something he can't quite put words to.
The older teen shuffles around a little, turning off the TV, before coming over to where Mike and Dustin are laying on the floor. Then before Mike knows it Steve is lifting him up and placing him on the couch. He feels like a little kid being carried to bed after falling asleep on the car ride home. Though that only happened once or twice at his mother's insistence, usually his father woke him up to walk inside.
He hears some more shuffling and then the couch dips presumably with Dustin's weight. He hears the sounds of Steve cleaning up trash and crafts, carefully organizing their DND papers as to not be scolded later. Just when he thinks Steve is about to head upstairs a blanket is gently tucked around his shoulders and a damp cloth is pressed to his cheek to wipe the pen marks off.
"Wheeler?" Steve whispers gently, and his body tenses but his eyes don't open.
Noticing the tension in his body, Mike hears Steve let out a huff indicating he's smiling. He tucks the blanket a little tighter and ruffles Mike's hair.
"Go to bed kid."
Steve tucks a blanket around Dustin before flicking off all the lights and setting the heater to a comfortable temperature. Then he quietly creeps upstairs and Mike can hear the soft murmurs of you two speaking. He doesn't need to be in the room to have an idea of what's being said.
it has gotten better before and it will again. it has gotten better before and it will again. it has gotten better before and it will again. it has gotten better before and it will again. it has gotten better before and it will again. it has gotten better before and it will again. it has gotten better before and it will again. it has gotten better before and it will again.
if ive been gaming for awhile and i see its 10pm its like ah yes. still time for a few quests. but if i havent started gaming yet im like ah well perhaps its time for my nightly respite
Dude. My grandma was in the hospital for a while and now she’s in a transitional care center to build her strength back up before she can go back home, and earlier today she told me she was playing wii bowling.
if you are pro life you are a terrorist to me. i don’t believe you see women as people. i don’t give a shit if a fetus is a person or not, it has no right to leech off the body of another person. pregnancy uses up your nutrients, shatters your pelvic floor, your teeth can fall out, it effects your vision, giving birth can tear your clitoris. literally so much shit can happen. go ask your mom, she’ll tell you. if you want people going through that against their will you are a goddamn demon
The headline was still burning into her eyes: “Next Gen Power Couple?’ Y/N Stark & Harry Osborn Spark Dating Rumors After Glitzy Gala Appearance”
Y/N sat cross-legged on her bed in a hoodie that wasn’t hers (probably Peter’s, not that she’d admit it), staring at the pictures of the gala on her tablet while her friends gathered around her room like they were strategizing for war.
MJ was pacing with a juice pouch in hand, Ned was half buried in a pile of pillows on the floor, and Peter… hadn’t said much. He sat in the desk chair, hands clasped between his knees, brows furrowed.
“No offense,” MJ said, turning sharply to point at Ned, “but if anyone leaked Y/N’s powers, it’s you. You’re too friendly. You probably said something dumb at a Comic-Con.”
Ned gasped. “Excuse me? I would never! You’re the one who made her a custom Tempest Funko Pop. Maybe someone saw it.”
Peter looked up. “Guys, come on. Nobody here leaked anything.”
“Exactly,” Y/N said, exasperated. “Which is why this makes no sense. How does he know? I haven’t even seen Harry Osborn since that stupid summit. And now he’s back and suddenly throwing around hints and doing interviews like he’s my PR manager?”
“He’s been suspiciously smooth,” MJ said, narrowing her eyes. “Like… media trained Bond villain smooth.”
Just then, the door opened with a soft knock. Tony walked in with Pepper trailing behind, holding a tablet.
“I ran the Osborn kid’s record,” Tony said, tossing the tablet to Y/N. “It’s clean. Squeaky. Too squeaky, honestly. Graduated from a top-tier boarding school in California back in June. Spent the summer hopping through Europe. Won two lacrosse championships, three state science fairs, a robotics thing in Tokyo, and was apparently on the cover of Forbes Next last year.”
“He’s like evil Peter,” Ned whispered.
“Hey!” Peter snapped, offended.
“He’s not evil,” Pepper said thoughtfully. “Just well-groomed. And possibly trying to charm your daughter.”
Tony muttered, “He can try.”
Y/N scrolled through the file on the tablet, her stomach turning. There was nothing. No red flags. No PI receipts. No spy tech orders. Nothing to explain how Harry knew.
“So what now?” MJ asked. “We just wait for him to drop another cryptic one liner on the morning news?”
“No,” Y/N said, eyes hard. “Next time he says something like that… I’ll make sure he tells me what he knows.”
Peter shifted in his seat. “Just—be careful, okay?”
Y/N didn’t answer. But her fingers sparked faintly against the edge of the tablet.
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Later that evening, the group had moved to the tower’s living room — a cozy sprawl of mismatched throw pillows, glowing screens, and the half finished remnants of takeout containers. The TV played reruns of Love Island in the background, mostly ignored except for MJ who kept pausing her phone scrolling every time a dramatic sound cue hit.
Y/N was curled up on one end of the couch with her legs tucked under her, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands. Ned sat on the rug, enjoying a bag of chips. MJ was lying sideways across the armrest, casually stalking Harry Osborn’s Instagram like it was a crime scene.
“Okay,” she said, swiping up. “His grid is too curated. Like… look at this. Who just posts a dumb picture with an artsy caption and gets 78k likes? It’s like he thinks being rich gives him permission to post dumb philosophical captions with thirst traps.”
Ned leaned over. “What’s it say?”
She tilted the screen toward them. “‘You can’t outrun your shadow. But sometimes… you can dance with it.’ And it’s just a picture of him standing in front of a sunset. Shirtless.”
Y/N snorted. “That’s kinda funny actually.”
Then, without missing a beat: “No but yeah, who’d post something dumb like that and get thousands of likes?”
Both MJ and Ned turned to look at her. MJ raised an eyebrow.
Ned grinned. “you literally captioned your last post ‘say you’ll remember me, standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset ’ and it was just a picture of you on the balcony before the gala.”
Y/N blinked. “That’s different. That’s a Taylor Swift lyric...”
“Uh-huh,” MJ said dryly. “Tell that to your twelve fan accounts.”
“Thirteen,” Ned corrected, showing her his phone. “One of them just posted an edit of you and Harry. Y/N Osborn era incoming.”
Y/N groaned and sank into the cushions. “I hate the internet.”
“You are the internet,” MJ said, scrolling again.
Peter tried to laugh along, but it came out awkward and quiet. His eyes flicked to the screen MJ was holding, where Harry’s shirtless photo was still open. He looked away fast, jaw tightening.
Despite the jokes, the mood was still weird. Uneasy. Everyone could feel it.
Peter sat nearby, scrolling through memes but clearly not paying attention. Every time Y/N shifted, he glanced up. Like he was trying to read her thoughts.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed.
She frowned, swiping open the message — and froze.
From an unknown number:
So what’d you think about the interview? Gotta give 'em some insight on the new it couple. 😉
Her stomach dropped.
“I got a text…” she said slowly.
Peter perked up instantly, trying to get her attention. “You got a text!!!” he shouted, mimicking the Love Island alert voice with over exaggerated excitement.
Y/N side eyed him but a laugh escaped her before she could stop it.
MJ sat up straighter. “Wait—from who?”
Y/N tilted her phone so they could see.
Ned leaned over the couch. “Osborn?! No way. That’s so weirdly flirty. He totally wants you.”
Peter frowned. “She doesn’t want him. So who cares.”
Y/N arched an eyebrow but didn’t comment. Instead, she reread the message, thumb hovering uncertainly over the keyboard.
“Should I reply?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“YES,” MJ and Ned said in unison.
Peter looked like he was chewing glass. “I don’t think—”
“Let’s see what his game is,” MJ cut in. “We’ll play it smart.”
Y/N hesitated a moment longer, then typed:
You sure know how to get attention. Was that whole thing planned?
A beat. Then another buzz.
You caught me. I figured a little chaos would get you to text me.
Ned gasped. “He’s so smooth it’s infuriating.”
Another ping.
Let’s talk in person. I think we’d both rather skip the small talk.
Y/N stared at the screen. “He wants to meet.”
MJ snatched the phone. “He’s deflecting. He’s not answering your question at all.”
“Which means he knows something,” Ned said. “He’s dodging, but he wants you to follow up. Classic bait.”
Peter crossed his arms. “You don’t have to go. You know that, right?”
Y/N glanced at him, something unreadable flashing in her eyes.
“Yeah. But maybe I should,” she said softly. “If he knows something—anything—I need to find out how.”
MJ handed the phone back. “Then text him back and set it up.”
Ned gave her a very serious nod. “Y/N, this man wants you so bad. You could probably get a confession out of him and a dinner reservation in SoHo if you play your cards right.”
Peter scoffed quietly. “Yeah, because this is definitely the guy we should all trust right now.”
Y/N ignored him. Her fingers flew over the screen as she texted back:
Fine. Tomorrow after school. Neutral ground. You pick.
The message sent. Now all they had to do was wait.
Outside, the city buzzed on — and somewhere out there, Harry Osborn was already planning his next move.
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The school day dragged, but the final bell was a sweet relief. Y/N strolled out of Midtown with Ned at her side, the late afternoon sun casting gold light across the pavement. She had her backpack slung lazily over one shoulder. Ned, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with energy.
“I’m just saying,” he said, hands waving as he walked backwards in front of her. “You’ve got this in the bag.”
Y/N raised a brow. “You think?”
“Uh, yeah. Y/N. Stark. Literally you. He’s already texting you flirty nonsense, making you the talk of the gala, dropping hints—he’s obsessed.”
“I think he’s just playing a game.”
“Then play it better,” Ned grinned. “You’ve got the power of girlhood and great sarcasm on your side. Just lean into your girly mystique or whatever. He’ll fold. Watch.”
She laughed under her breath. “Harry Osborn doesn’t fold, Ned. He practically invented the game.”
“Right,” Ned said, smirking. “But you broke his nose once. That’s gotta count for something.”
Y/N snorted. “Punched. Not broke.”
“Still,” he said. “You live rent free in his head. Just flirt a little, ask the right questions, maybe toss your hair and —boom. Answers.”
They were halfway down the block when a familiar voice called out behind them.
“Hey—wait up!”
Peter jogged to catch up, winded despite the short distance, his bag thudding against his back. His hair was messy and his sweatshirt slightly askew, but he wore that easy smile she’d seen a million times.
“What are you two up to?” he asked, falling into step on Y/N’s other side.
“Y/N has a date,” Ned said, far too casually. “Very mysterious.”
Peter blinked. “Wait—what?”
“It’s not a date,” Y/N cut in, rolling her eyes. “I’m meeting Harry. After school. For a totally casual not-date where I try to figure out how he knows about my powers and whether or not he’s been stalking me, remember?”
Peter slowed down slightly, his expression darkening. “You’re seriously going?”
She gave him a look. “Yeah. I said I would.”
“To Harry Osborn?”
Ned frowned. “You literally saw her text him yesterday, dude.”
“I thought you were kidding,” Peter said, turning back to Y/N. “What if it’s a trap or something? You don’t know him, Y/N/N. He could be dangerous.”
Y/N stopped walking. “You think I can’t handle a coffee with some rich kid?”
“I didn’t say that—”
“You’re acting like I’m helpless,” she said, crossing her arms.
“I’m acting like I care,” Peter snapped, frustration creeping into his voice. “You’re walking into a sketchy situation alone and brushing it off like it’s no big deal.”
Ned glanced between them, then slowly took a very strategic step back.
“I’m not alone,” Y/N said. “I’ve got a tracker. FRIDAY’s monitoring my vitals. And my dad knows where I’ll be. This is controlled.”
Peter looked like he wanted to argue, but couldn’t find the words.
“I’m not doing this to make you mad,” she added, softer now. “I just want answers.”
Peter ran a hand through his hair. “You’re seriously trusting him?”
“I’m not. That’s the point.”
Silence stretched between them for a second. Just long enough to feel uncomfortable.
Ned clapped his hands once. “Anyway! I’ll, uh… see you later! Y/N, good luck with your super spy girl mission.”
He practically bolted across the street, leaving the tension simmering.
Peter shoved his hands in his pockets. “Just… be careful, okay?”
Y/N nodded. “I will.”
And for a moment, she thought maybe that was it — that he’d leave it there.
But then he said quietly, “I don’t like him.”
She gave him a tiny smirk. “Noted.”
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Y/N spotted him instantly.
Harry Osborn didn’t blend in. Not here. Not anywhere, probably.
He sat at a small outdoor table on the sidewalk, black sunglasses pushed up into his hair, one leg crossed casually over the other. He looked like he was born to be in front of the cameras — tousled, expensive, infuriatingly relaxed. There was a cup of something steaming in front of him and a second one waiting, untouched.
She slowed her steps.
Okay. Just a conversation. Get answers. Figure out what he knows. Maybe zap him a little if he gets too smug.
“Hey,” she said as she reached the table.
Harry looked up, smile curling. “I was starting to think I’d been ghosted.”
Y/N gave him a flat look. “Please. I’m not that polite.”
He laughed, gesturing to the seat across from him. “Relax, Stark. No hidden cameras. No secret microphones.”
She slid into the chair, studying him carefully. “So… this is casual Harry now? No gala lighting, no pressed suits?”
“I’m full of surprises.” He pushed the second cup toward her. “Matcha with almond milk and a little bit of vanilla. Still your order?”
Y/N hesitated. “How do you know that?”
Harry just sipped his coffee, eyes dancing. “You’d be surprised what people remember.”
Her fingers tapped the paper cup, electricity pulsing faintly through her nerves.
“Is that what this is, then?” she asked. “ a trip down memory lane? Or are we gonna talk about the weird, cryptic things you’ve been saying since the gala?”
Harry tilted his head, playing innocent. “Weird and cryptic is subjective.”
“You said I looked electric. Then you told the media we had 'chemistry' and that girls with lightning in their eyes were your type.” She leaned forward slightly. “That doesn’t sound subjective. That sounds intentional.”
He smiled again, slower this time. “Maybe I just meant you’re intense. Striking. Kind of hard to look away from.”
“Right,” she said, unimpressed. “Try again.”
Harry tapped a finger to his cup. “Why don’t you tell me, Stark? Do you have lightning in your eyes?”
Y/N stared at him for a beat too long. She could feel the buzz under her skin. Not just her power — this electric, impossible tension between them.
He knows.
He knows, and he’s not afraid of it.
“I think you’re messing with me,” she said finally, leaning back. “You’re bored and rich and weirdly charming and this is just some game to you.”
Harry shrugged. “It’s not a game. Not really. I just… remember things. I notice things. Especially when they almost fry my retina at a tech summit.”
Y/N blinked. “I didn’t think it was anything more than just a punch.”
“It was way more than just a punch. Hard to forget the girl who nearly gave me a heart attack in front of twenty MIT donors. To be fair, I was being annoying.”
“You said my project looked like a Fisher-Price toy.”
“It was bright orange.”
“It was custom Stark tech,” she snapped.
“Still ugly.”
A beat of silence.
Then—unexpectedly—Y/N laughed. She tried to fight it, to smother it in a scowl, but it escaped anyway.
Harry grinned, victorious. “There she is.”
“God, you’re the worst,” she muttered, sipping her drink.
“You’ve said that before.”
“And I meant it then, too.”
A moment passed, lighter now. Still tense, but… different. Balanced.
Harry studied her, quieter now. “You don’t have to be so on edge, you know. I’m not trying to blackmail you. I’m not dangerous.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow. “See, dangerous people always say that.”
“Touché.”
She glanced down at her drink, then back up. “So what do you want?”
Harry’s smile turned softer. “Maybe just a conversation with someone who doesn’t care about my last name.”
Y/N blinked.
That… was not what she expected.
Before she could respond, her phone buzzed.
It was Ned.
Ned🤠: bro are you still alive?!
Ned🤠: is he cute in daylight or was it just the suit and low lights?
She snorted and tucked her phone away.
Harry watched her, amused. “Friends keeping tabs?”
“Something like that.”
He stood suddenly, brushing nonexistent lint from his jacket. “Walk with me?”
She hesitated.
Then stood.
Just a conversation, she reminded herself.
Just information.
Even if it felt like walking into a storm.
They walked in step without speaking at first, the cool wind tugging playfully at Y/N’s hair, the city around them starting to blur into late-afternoon golden hour.
“I don’t think we’ve done this since we were, like… ten,” Y/N said eventually, glancing at him. “Walked somewhere together without security or screaming.”
Harry hummed. “You mean back when I was an insufferable little gremlin and you had braces and a right hook?”
She side-eyed him. “Are you not still like that?”
“You got me.” He smirked.
They turned a corner, the sidewalk opening up into the edge of a quiet park. There weren’t many people around. Just a couple kids on swings and someone walking a tiny dog in a sweater.
Harry slowed, then motioned to a bench beneath a bare tree. “Sit?”
Y/N nodded.
They dropped into the bench. Silence again. But this one wasn’t tense. It was… easy. Familiar in a weird way. Like falling into an old rhythm she didn’t realize she still remembered.
Harry leaned back, eyes flicking up at the branches above them.
“You know,” he said, voice quieter now, “my dad used to talk about you all the time. You and your dad.”
Y/N glanced over, startled. “Seriously?”
“Mm. He liked the idea of us — the next generation. Stark and Osborn 2.0.” He gave a half-smile. “Didn’t matter that I was in California. He’d still call me after some gala or tech expo and be like, ‘Y/N Stark presented her own AI prototype today. Why can’t you be more like her?’”
Y/N snorted. “Oh god. That’s horrifying.”
Harry laughed. “Right? I resented you so hard. But I also… I don’t know. I think part of me looked up to you. You were always just… blazing through everything. Untouchable.”
She looked away. “I didn’t feel that way.”
“Yeah, well,” Harry said, nudging her gently with his shoulder, “you hid it well.”
They sat there for a moment, watching the shadows grow longer.
Then Harry’s tone shifted.
“That’s the thing, though,” he said, voice lower now. “You think you’re hiding it. But I saw it. The way your eyes shifted to a dark electric blue. The way your fingertips sparked and after the punch it all went back to normal. Like you had to let the energy out.”
Y/N froze.
He turned to look at her, not smiling now. “I’ve known for a while, Stark.”
Her fingers curled around the edge of the bench.
“But,” he continued, calmly, “I haven’t told anyone. I won’t.”
She studied him carefully, heartbeat thudding. “Why not?”
He shrugged. “What would I gain from it? Shock value? Attention? Money? I get enough of that.” A pause. “I figure if someone’s carrying something that heavy, the least I can do is let them carry it in peace.”
Y/N stared.
“You haven’t said anything.”
Harry met her gaze evenly. “Because it’s yours. Not mine.”
Something about that — about him — made her chest ache a little. Like there was something sharp and hollow buried just under his smirk.
He dropped his eyes, fiddling with the edge of his cup. “You know… I used to have a crush on you.”
She blinked. “What?”
He grinned. “Back when we were kids. It’s true what they say — boys are mean to girls they like. I was the worst.”
“You were,” she agreed.
“Don’t worry,” he said quickly. “That was a long time ago. I’ve moved on.” He glanced sideways at her. “Trust me.”
And somehow… she did. At least a little.
She let her guard drop — not fully, but enough to exhale.
“You’re lonely,” she said quietly, not a question.
Harry didn’t flinch. “Everyone in my life wants something. Image, deals, status.” He paused. “You didn’t care when I had nothing. That stuck.”
Y/N said nothing.
“So,” he added, smile tilting again, “if pretending to flirt with the Stark girl keeps the vultures off my back? If I get to piss off your little boyfriend in the process? Not a bad deal.”
Y/N narrowed her eyes. “You’re insufferable.”
“Objectively,” he agreed.
But he wasn’t joking anymore. Not fully.
She could feel it. Beneath the charm and the chaos and the little glint in his eye — he wasn’t doing this for clout. Not really. He wanted something real. And he saw that possibility in her.
“Thanks for meeting me,” he said, standing and tossing the empty cup in the nearby trash.
As she stood too, Harry turned to face her.
“See you soon, Stark.”
And then, with a wink that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he walked off — leaving Y/N standing in the middle of the quiet park, her thoughts sparking like static in the autumn air.
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Y/N sat cross-legged on the rolling stool, elbows braced against the lab table, her fingers absently fiddling with a spare tools. The prints in front of her blurred into nothing — her thoughts still stuck on the conversation at the park.
Across the lab, Tony stood at the touch display wall, flipping through security footage and diagnostics. He hadn’t said much since she told him.
“So let me get this straight,” he finally said, turning around. “Osborn. As in boarding school golden boy, Harry Osborn.”
Y/N nodded once.
“Has known about you since you were 13.”
Another nod.
Tony folded his arms, stepping closer. “How sure are you he hasn’t told anyone?”
“I’m sure,” Y/N said quietly.
Tony didn’t respond right away. His expression shifted — not angry, but something taut in the lines of his face. Concern, maybe. Or disappointment.
“You know…” he started, voice lower now. “There was a time I thought Steve Rogers would never lie to me. That we were on the same side. That friendship meant something unbreakable.”
Y/N looked up.
“Then Sokovia happened. And Berlin. And he didn’t even blink before choosing Barnes over everything we built.” He paused. “People change. Even the ones who meant something to you once. Especially them.”
“Harry’s not Steve,” Y/N said, more defensively than she meant to.
“No, he’s not. But that’s my point. You don’t know who he is now. He was gone for years. California, Europe, countless of trips around the world. Who knows what circles he ran in. You don’t owe him anything.”
“I’m not saying I do.”
Tony exhaled, his voice softening. “I’m just trying to protect you, honey. You’ve got this whole world ahead of you. Powers, pressure, headlines... You don’t need some rich boy wildcard stirring the pot.”
Y/N stared at her hands, then said quietly, “One day, the world’s gonna find out about me. I know that. But it won’t be because of him.”
That — for some reason — settled something in Tony. He didn’t like it, but he accepted it.
He let out a slow breath, then nodded, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as he passed. “Okay. I’ll run background again, just in case. But… I trust your gut, kid.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
As he reached the door, it slid open before he could press the panel. Peter stood there awkwardly, one hand rubbing the back of his neck.
“Hey,” he said. “Uh, can I talk to Y/N for a sec?”
Tony shot Y/N a look, then Peter an even longer one. “Just don’t blow anything up, okay?”
“We’ll try,” Peter said.
Tony shook his head with a small smile and disappeared down the hall.
Y/N raised an eyebrow as Peter stepped inside. “Aren’t you supposed to be studying with Gwen or whatever?”
Peter shrugged, edging closer. “It’s Love Island Monday.”
She blinked, then huffed a small laugh. “Right.”
They stood in silence for a second. And then—
“How’d it go?” Peter asked.
Y/N tilted her head. “Huh?”
“You know. Your whole… mission. With Harry.”
“Oh.” She looked back down at the table. “Fine.”
Peter waited.
Y/N sighed. “He knew. He’s known for a while. He said he wouldn’t tell.”
Peter stiffened. “He’s known?”
She nodded. “Said he noticed… little stuff. I shocked him when I punched him. Didn’t take much for him to put two and two together.”
Peter’s jaw clenched. His thoughts were racing — none of them particularly rational.
So Harry Osborn had been watching her? Studying her? That was weird, right? Like weird rich boy behavior. Not cool. Not… normal.
Peter wasn’t jealous. He just didn’t trust the guy. Rich, charming, annoyingly perfect smile — textbook womanizer. Yeah. That’s what this was.
“He said,” Y/N added, eyes flicking down, “that he used to have a crush on me when we were kids.”
Peter blinked. “He what?”
Y/N’s eyes snapped up. “Don’t freak out.”
“I’m not freaking out,” Peter said, voice cracking slightly. “I just didn’t know that was… on the table.”
“It’s not. It was a long time ago.”
Peter looked at her. Really looked. “Do you really trust him?”
She nodded once, firmly. “Yes.”
His shoulders softened, the fight draining out of him.
“Okay,” he said. “Then I trust you. More than anyone.”
She didn’t expect that. The way he said it — like it was easy, like it was obvious — it knocked the air from her chest.
Peter reached for her hands, holding them carefully between his. Their fingers tangled without thinking.
They stayed like that, suspended in the warmth of it, in everything unspoken but deeply known.
And then—
“Miss Stark,” FRIDAY’s voice chirped through the ceiling, “Love Island has just begun. Would you like it on the common room screen?”
Y/N didn’t look away from Peter, but a soft laugh slipped out anyway.
Peter grinned. “I guess we should go.”
“Yeah,” Y/N said. “We should.”
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The glow of the Love Island intro pulsed across the room, all pink neon hearts and sparkly bikinis. Peter and Y/N sat side by side on the massive couch, a bowl of popcorn balanced between them, feet tucked under throw blankets.
Peter tossed a handful of popcorn into his mouth, snorting. “I don’t think I’d last a day on this show.”
Y/N turned to him, amused. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
“I don’t know… cameras everywhere. Confessionals. People fighting over you. Public voting. It’s like The Hunger Games but with fake tans.”
She laughed. “You’re too much of a loverboy to handle it.”
Peter grinned. “I wouldn’t like to see another guy trying to take my girl.”
Her smile slipped for just a second.
Because he said it like a joke. But his voice had gone a little quieter, and he was still looking at her — really looking — and suddenly, the warmth in her chest felt dangerous.
The air shifted. For a moment, neither of them looked at the screen.
But then Peter’s phone buzzed on the coffee table.
He leaned forward to check it, and Y/N forced herself to breathe again.
He smiled. Soft. Familiar.
It was a text from Gwen.
Y/N turned back to the screen, her pulse racing.
Right. Gwen. The actual girl. The one everyone saw. The one he chose.
A quiet ache started to thread through her ribs.
“She says hi,” Peter said gently, phone still in his hand.
Y/N didn’t look away from the screen. “Tell her I say hi back.”
He didn’t reply right away. Just looked at her for a moment longer.
Then, in that sweet, awkward Peter way, he tried to bring her back.
“I still think you’d win this show,” he said. “You’d break the fourth wall like a champ. The whole country and villa would fall in love with you.”
She laughed — soft but real. “Please. I’d be voted off in a week.”
“No,” Peter said, almost too serious. “You’d win.”
And the way he said it — like it wasn’t about the show at all — made her chest tighten.
So she just smiled. Leaned back. Let the episode play. Let herself exist in the comfort of him, even if it couldn’t mean what she secretly wished it did.
Even if her heart kept whispering: this doesn’t feel like friendship anymore.
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The group had claimed the corner table in the library — tucked between the science section and a dusty window that barely let in light. The quiet hum of other students working or whispering hung in the air, but at their table, a different kind of energy was brewing.
Peter’s sneaker nudged Y/N’s under the table.
She nudged back.
Then again — a little firmer this time. A challenge.
He bit down a grin, eyes still focused on the open physics worksheet in front of him. Y/N, pretending to read her book, raised an eyebrow without looking up, her foot sliding boldly along his ankle.
MJ groaned and dropped her pen. “Okay, I’m literally trying to do my calc homework, and you two are playing rom-com footsies. So gross.”
Y/N laughed, not bothering to deny it. Peter went red but didn’t stop.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “My foot slipped.”
“Sure it did,” MJ said dryly, hiding her smirk.
“Anyway,” Y/N said, leaning back in her chair and twirling her pen. “I was telling you guys about Harry.”
“Knows what?” Ned asked, biting into a granola bar.
Peter glanced at Y/N, already tense.
“…About me,” she said. “The powers.”
Ned choked a little. “Wait—how? Has he been stalking you?”
“No! He just…knew. He brought it up. Kinda subtle at first, but then not at all.”
MJ’s eyes narrowed. “That’s sketchy.”
Peter’s pencil snapped in half.
They all looked at him.
He didn’t even blink. “He said he has a crush on her.”
Y/N blinked. “Had a crush. Past tense. It was, like, years ago.”
Peter muttered, “Yeah, right.”
The silence that followed was loaded.
MJ slowly leaned across the table. “Parker. You good?”
He didn’t respond — just doodled aggressively in the margin of his worksheet.
Y/N’s lips twitched. “You sound…off.”
“I just don’t trust that guy,” Peter mumbled.
“He was actually really chill,” Y/N said. “He promised not to tell anyone. And he hasn’t.”
MJ sat back, arms crossed, watching Peter trying to swallow his jealousy. Then her face lit up.
“You should invite him to the football game.”
Peter and Y/N both snapped their heads toward her.
“WHAT?!”
“Shhh!” the librarian hissed from across the room.
Ned looked thrilled. “Yes! I wanna meet him. I wanna see what all the fuss is about.”
Peter scoffed. “He’s, like, a whole college guy. Don’t you think it’s weird that he’s hanging out with juniors?”
Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You hang out with me and I’m technically a senior.”
“That’s different,” Peter grumbled. “We’re friends.”
“Right,” MJ said under her breath, smiling into her notebook.
Y/N shot her a look. “I mean… I can ask him. But no promises.”
Peter said nothing, just stabbed his pencil into the spiral binding of his notebook.
Under the table, Y/N nudged his foot again — softer this time. He didn’t nudge back.
Which only made her smirk.
Because that? That was a very Peter Parker sulk.
And she kinda loved it.
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Dinner had come and gone. Her hair was still a little damp from her shower, and she was curled up in a hoodie, legs crossed on her bed, staring at her phone anxiously.
Finally, she tapped the contact.
HARRY OSBORN
It rang once.
Twice.
“Miss me already?”
His voice was smug and silk-smooth through the speaker. She could practically hear the grin.
Y/N rolled her eyes, already smiling. “You wish.”
“Stark, I always wish.”
She scoffed. “Okay, Romeo. Relax.”
There was a pause, then his voice again — low and amused. “So? To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I wanted to ask if you’d come to my school’s football game this Friday.”
Another pause. Then:
“You asking me out, Stark?”
“In your dreams.”
“Frequently.”
Y/N groaned, flopping backward on her bed. “You’re so annoying.”
“And yet, still charming.”
She laughed in spite of herself. “My friends want to meet you.”
“Oh, so you’re talking about me to your friends now? Isn’t that what girls do when they have a crush?”
“Goodnight, Harry.”
“Wait, wait,” he said through a chuckle. “I’ll be there. Wouldn’t miss it.”
She could hear the smirk in his voice. That easy charm. The unbothered confidence.
“Thanks,” she muttered.
“Of course,” he said, softer now. “I’m always down to see you outside the city lights. Maybe I’ll even bring a sign. Team Stark.”
Y/N laughed again. And this time, it was real.
They hung up a few minutes later, and she stared at her phone for a beat before tossing it onto her comforter.
Her face burned.
He had a way. He always had. Even as a kid, he got under her skin — smug and quick and impossible to ignore. And now? With the height and the bone structure and the voice?
She groaned, dragging a pillow over her face.
Y/N let herself fall back onto the mattress with a groan. She stared at the ceiling again, arms flopped to her sides, heart beating faster than she cared to admit.
“He’s charming,” she muttered. “And smart. And objectively hot. This is doable.”
She said it out loud like it would make it more real.
“Yeah. If I try—if I really try—I could fall for him. Maybe I just need to give it time.”
There was a part of her that didn’t fully believe it. The part that still turned its head every time Peter Parker laughed. But she ignored that voice.
For now, she was doing the right thing. The reasonable thing.
Wasn’t she?
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“Wait, so what’s the plan for spirit week?” Ned asked, balancing his tray as he flopped down into their usual corner table in the cafeteria.
“I think it’s pajama day tomorrow?” Y/N said, twirling her fork in her salad, distracted.
“Thank God,” MJ muttered. “Finally an excuse to wear slippers to calc.”
Peter snorted. “You don’t need an excuse. I saw you in fuzzy socks with Birkenstocks last week.”
“That was a fashion statement.”
“Sure,” he said, smirking.
The group dissolved into easy laughter—easy for everyone except Y/N, who was very aware of the empty seat beside her. Gwen's.
She hadn't even realized she was waiting for her until—
“Sorry!” Gwen’s voice rang out as she slid into the seat beside Peter, breathless and beaming. “Leadership ran long. Everyone’s freaking out about the rivalry game. The marching band wants their own half time show now and everyone’s too scared to say no to them. I swear it’s like I’m the only one with a functioning brain.”
“That’s because you’re literally running that place,” Peter said, eyes warm as he looked at her. “You joined, like, last week and they already treat you like you’ve been there forever. You’re amazing.”
Y/N blinked.
Her fork paused mid-air.
He used to say stuff like that to her.
“You’re so smart, Y/N/N.”
“You always make things better.”
“Of course you fixed the generator, you’re brilliant.”
She shook it off. Shrugged. Forced a smile. “Speaking of high school chaos,” she said, a little too brightly. “I talked to Harry last night.”
All three of them turned toward her.
Ned perked up. “Harry Osborn?”
“Yeah,” she said, stabbing her lettuce. “He’s coming to the game on Friday.”
“No way,” Gwen gasped. “Harry Osborn is coming to our football game? Like—our high school football game?”
Peter groaned under his breath. “Not you too…”
Y/N’s stomach twisted. Her heart stuttered.
She tried not to overthink it, but of course she did.
Great. He DOES like her. He’s annoyed because she’s excited.
But before her thoughts could spiral further, Gwen leaned forward, eyes wide. “No! I just meant… like, I knew he had a thing for Y/N!”
Y/N blinked. “Wait, what?”
“At the gala! You two were totally giving something. And then the photos came out? And his interview?” Gwen clapped her hands. “That boy totally has the hots for you.”
Ned gasped dramatically. “Are we witnessing a love triangle?”
“Oh my god, no,” Y/N laughed, feeling her face heat up. “It’s not like that. He just likes messing with people.”
MJ was watching Peter now, like she was watching a kettle about to boil over.
“He had a crush on you, though, right?” she said casually. “Like, way back?”
Y/N hesitated. “When we were kids.”
“Iconic,” MJ said, grinning. “Man’s playing the long game.”
Peter made a face. “Oh, c’mon.”
Everyone looked at him.
“What?” Gwen asked.
Peter shrugged, tone tight. “I don’t know. He’s like… a womanizer. And rich. And bored. I just don’t think we should be, like, throwing Y/N/N at him and hoping for the best.”
“Throwing?” Y/N repeated, eyebrows raised.
“Relax,” MJ said, eyes twinkling. “He’s just being protective.”
“I am not—” Peter stopped. Rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s just—he’s sketchy, okay? I don’t totally trust him.”
“Jealousy is such an ugly color on you, Parker,” Ned teased.
Peter’s face flushed pink.
“I’m not jealous,” he muttered. “I’m just… being logical.”
“Totally,” MJ said, biting back a smile.
Y/N tilted her head, trying to read him. He wasn’t looking at her. Just picking at his sandwich like it had personally offended him.
And maybe he was just being logical.
Or maybe, just maybe, he didn’t like the idea of Harry Osborn showing up and charming the hell out of everyone.
Either way… she wasn’t going to ask.
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The car ride was quiet. Too quiet.
Peter sat beside Y/N in the backseat, arms crossed, eyes trained on the window, but he hadn’t looked outside once.
Y/N could feel it before he even said anything.
“So. You and Harry Osborn?”
She didn’t even glance up from her phone. “Oh my god. Are we still on this?”
“It’s a fair question.”
She sighed. “Is it?”
“You guys are starting to hang out. You’re calling him charming now. You’re clearly texting.”
“He is charming,” she said, casually. “That’s like public knowledge.”
Peter scoffed under his breath. “Right. And that’s all it takes, huh?”
Y/N looked up, confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means—” He cut himself off. Shook his head. “Forget it.”
“No, say it,” she pushed, voice sharp. “You clearly want to.”
Peter turned to her, jaw clenched. “I just didn't realize you were the kind of girl who throws herself at the first guy who gives her attention.”
Y/N blinked. Her stomach dropped.
“Wow,” she said quietly.
“I didn’t—” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “That came out wrong.”
“No, I think it came out exactly how you meant it.”
Peter looked away. “He’s shady, Y/N/N. He shows up out of nowhere and suddenly he’s flirting with you, knowing about your powers, giving interviews about you—”
“He hasn’t told anyone,” she snapped.
“Yet.”
She turned fully now. “Why do you even care so much?”
“Because you’re my best friend.”
“Then act like it! Stop making me feel like I’ve done something wrong by talking to someone else.”
“I’m making you feel like that?” Peter shot back. “You’ve been hanging off his every word and I’m the bad guy?”
She glared. “No. You’re acting like some jealous ex-boyfriend and it’s exhausting.”
He flinched. “I’m not—”
“Not what? Not jealous? Not pissed off that another guy is wanting to spend time with me?”
Peter’s face tightened. “I just don’t trust him.”
“You don’t even know him!”
“Neither do you!”
They were both yelling now.
In the front seat, Happy shifted uncomfortably, glancing at them through the rearview mirror.
Y/N was fuming. “What happened to ‘I trust you more than anyone’, huh? You said that like two nights ago.”
Peter’s expression hardened. “Yeah, well, two nights ago you weren’t throwing yourself at Osborn like some kind of groupie.”
She stared at him, mouth falling open.
Her voice was deadly quiet. “Pull over.”
“Y/N—” Happy tried, but she cut him off.
“I said pull over!”
Peter looked at her like she was crazy. “What are you doing?”
She leaned forward. “Happy, take him wherever he wants to go. I’m walking.”
“Come on, don’t be dramatic—” Peter started, reaching for her arm.
“No. You don’t get to say something like that and then tell me I’m being dramatic.”
Peter’s voice lowered, bitter. “Of course. Run away, just like you always do.”
Y/N opened the door. “Screw you, Parker.”
“Enjoy the walk, princess.”
She slammed it behind her without another word.
Peter stared after her, jaw clenched, heart pounding. Happy said nothing.
The silence in the car was deafening.
Finally, Happy muttered, “You’re an idiot.”
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Y/N stormed into the Tower, her platforms hitting the floor like gunshots. She barely registered the swipe of the doors closing behind her, too busy replaying every word Peter had just said in the car. Her face was flushed with anger, chest tight.
Tony was at the kitchen counter adding creamer to his mug, casual in a worn Black Sabbath tee, a coffee half made in front of him. He looked up as soon as he heard the elevator hiss open.
“Whoa. What the hell, kid?” he said, dropping the knife. “Happy called. Said you made him pull over in the middle of Queens and walked home. You wanna explain that to me?”
Y/N tossed her bag onto the island and leaned against the counter, jaw clenched. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Peter and I just got into a fight.”
Tony raised both brows, crossing his arms. “Must’ve been one hell of a fight if you ditched a private driver for the sidewalks of New York in those shoes.”
She stared at the floor. “He was being an ass.”
“Well, that’s new,” Tony muttered. “What about?”
“The Harry thing.”
Tony sighed. “Right. Osborn Junior. Not exactly my first choice for your after school activities either.”
Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “Oh my god, not you too.”
“Hey, I’m just saying.” He shrugged. “The kid's got more red flags than a Hydra reunion. You’ve been through a lot. Last thing you need is some spoiled rich boy with perfectly tousled hair and unresolved daddy issues screwing with your head.”
Y/N scoffed. “I’m not dating him.”
Tony gave her a look. “You’re defending him like you are.”
She glared at him.
“I trust you, Y/N,” he said, gentler now. “I do. But maybe Peter’s got a point. I think he’s coming from a place of concern. We don’t really know Harry. Hell, I’m not even that friendly with Norman!.”
Y/N exhaled sharply, grabbing her bag again. “You sound just like him.”
“Whoa—hey, don’t do that,” Tony said, stepping around the counter. “Don’t twist this. I’m not picking sides.”
“You kind of are,” she snapped, already heading toward the door.
Tony followed her, his tone shifting. “Y/N/N. Where are you going?”
“I just need air.”
“You just walked twenty blocks, how much more air do you need?”
She didn’t answer.
“Hey,” he called, more serious now. “Be careful. Alright? You’re not bulletproof yet.”
Y/N paused at the elevator, not turning around. “I’ll be fine.”
The doors opened.
Tony frowned, watching her go. “Call me if you’re not.”
She didn’t respond. The doors closed, leaving him alone in the silence of the kitchen.
He stood there for a long second, running a hand down his face before muttering under his breath, “God, she’s really mine.”
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The café was calm in that late-afternoon lull — no crowd, just the occasional customer tapping away on a laptop or scrolling through their phone. Y/N sat at the corner table by the window, picking at the edge of a paper napkin, eyes downcast.
MJ was behind the counter, apron on, cleaning a coffee machine that didn’t actually need cleaning. She kept glancing over, clearly trying not to seem obvious about how much she wanted to talk.
“MJ,” Y/N whispered, trying to catch her attention.
MJ glanced around. “Girl, I’m on the clock,” she mouthed dramatically, before returning to restacking biscotti with intense purpose.
Y/N sighed, leaning back in her seat.
The bell above the door jingled. Y/N didn’t look up — not until she heard a familiar voice.
“Is this seat taken?”
Her eyes snapped up.
Harry Osborn, in a navy half-zip and jeans, stood beside her table, holding a drink from the counter. His smile was easy. His eyes were sharp.
Y/N blinked. “What—how did you…?”
Harry slid into the chair across from her. “Was in the neighborhood. I love supporting small businesses.”
Y/N raised a brow. “So you’re not stalking me?”
“Well,” he started. “I might’ve contacted your friend here to ask where your sad girl hideout is.”
Y/N’s head whipped toward the counter. MJ threw up her hands and said, “he asked nicely!”
“Well played, Osborn.” Y/N muttered.
Harry grinned. “I try.”
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes on her. “So what’s wrong?”
Y/N hesitated. “It’s stupid.”
Harry tilted his head. “Everything’s stupid until it isn’t. Try me.”
She fiddled with the napkin again. “I got into a fight. With Peter.”
Harry’s brows lifted slightly. “Over me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“That wasn’t a no.”
Y/N sighed. “He was just being... weird. And I snapped. It got bad.”
Harry took a slow sip of his drink, watching her. “Well. I’m honored to be the catalyst for your teenage angst.”
She snorted. “Shut up.”
He leaned back, letting the charm drop just a bit — enough to show sincerity underneath. “Seriously though. I’m sorry.”
Y/N glanced at him. “You didn’t do anything.”
“Still. Sucks that he’s giving you a hard time over me. I’m just a guy who enjoys a good cappuccino and used to have a massive crush on you.”
She blinked. “Used to?”
Harry smirked. “My therapist says I’ve worked through it.”
Y/N laughed, for real this time.
From behind the counter, MJ had her chin propped on her hand, smiling softly as she watched.
Harry reached across the table, gently nudging her fingers. “For the record, I’m not trying to make your life harder. I just like talking to you. Even when you’re grumpy.”
Y/N looked down at their hands, surprised at how easy it felt — how not-weird it was, after everything.
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Peter opened the front door of his apartment, confused. “Ned?”
Ned stood on the stoop, wild eyed and panting. “You’re not gonna believe what I just saw.”
Peter raised an eyebrow. “...Aliens in the city?”
“Y/N,” Ned said dramatically, “is on a date.”
Peter blinked. “...What?”
“At MJ’s job,” Ned said, pushing past him into the apartment. “With Harry Osborn.”
Peter turned. “Wait—what?”
“I saw them,” Ned said, breathless. “Through the window. They were, like, leaning in close. Holding hands.”
Peter stared at him. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was,” Ned said, tossing his backpack on the couch. “He had the eyes. You know. The eyes.”
Peter frowned. “What eyes?”
“You know—flirty eyes.”
Peter looked away, trying to keep his tone casual. “It’s not a date. She would’ve said something.”
“Well, maybe she didn’t think she had to,” Ned shot back. “They looked... cozy, bro.”
Peter's jaw tensed.
“They weren’t making out or anything,” Ned added quickly. “But it was very much giving first date vibes. MJ was there too, behind the counter, and she didn’t look like she was gonna stop it.”
Peter sat down on the edge of the couch, running a hand through his hair.
“You okay?” Ned asked.
Peter nodded. “Yeah. I mean, she can do whatever she wants.”
Ned eyed him. “You’re making your ‘I’m fine but internally combusting’ face.”
“I’m not,” Peter muttered.
Ned sat beside him. “Dude. Just be honest. Do you like her?”
Peter didn’t answer right away.
He just stared ahead, jaw tight, a million thoughts spiraling behind his eyes. Images of Harry and Y/N laughing together, holding hands, looking like they belonged in some perfectly filtered Instagram post.
Finally, Peter sighed, low and sharp.
“God,” he muttered. “This sucks.”
“She was holding his hand, man,” Ned said again, like he still couldn’t believe it. “Like—like the casual kind of hand-holding. Flirty and soft. Who does that unless you’re into someone?”
Peter didn’t respond.
Ned narrowed his eyes. “...Did something happen?”
Peter looked up.
“We—” He stopped. “We got into a fight. On the way home from school.”
Ned blinked. “Wait, what? You guys fought?”
Peter exhaled. “Yeah. In Happy’s car.”
“That’s like... couple behavior. You argued in Happy’s car?”
“She said I didn’t trust her,” Peter muttered.
Ned raised his eyebrows. “Well. Do you?”
“Of course I do!” Peter snapped. “She’s just—she’s being dumb. About Harry.”
Ned held up a hand. “Okay. Chill. Just... tell me the truth.”
Peter looked at him.
“Do you like her?” Ned asked.
Peter’s jaw ticked. “...No.”
Ned stared.
“Dude,” he said flatly. “You were obsessed with her after Berlin. You didn’t shut up for a week. You were all like ‘she’s so cool, she fights like Natasha, she zaps things—’”
“That was last year,” Peter cut in, defensive.
“And when Mr. Stark said he was enrolling her at Midtown? I thought you were gonna faint.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “Whatever. That doesn’t mean anything.”
Ned folded his arms. “Didn’t you say Gwen was cute or whatever?”
Peter leaned back, frustrated. “Exactly. I like Gwen.”
“No, you don’t,” Ned shot back. “You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“The Liz thing. Remember when you ignored everything and asked her to homecoming even though all of us thought you were gonna ask Y/N? You’re doing it again. Same script, different girl.”
Peter’s mouth opened—then closed again.
“You like Y/N,” Ned said, matter-of-fact. “And not in a casual way. Like in a ruin-your-life, lose-sleep-over-it kind of way.”
Peter rubbed his hands over his face. “She’s the first friend who’s a girl that I’ve ever had. It’s different.”
Ned gave him a long, slow blink. Yeah, right.”
Peter glared. “I don’t like her.”
Ned just shrugged. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, dude.”
Peter didn’t respond.
But the silence was louder than anything else.
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The elevator dinged as Y/N and Harry stepped into the Tower.
The lights were low, city skyline glittering outside the windows. She was mid laugh at something Harry had just said when Tony’s voice rang out from the kitchen.
“Well, well, look who finally decided to come home.”
Y/N froze like a teenager caught sneaking in past curfew. Harry, of course, didn’t flinch at all.
“Mr. Stark,” he said smoothly, offering a small salute with two fingers. “Pleasure.”
Tony looked him up and down, towel slung over his shoulder from where he’d been drying a glass. “Harry Osborn.”
“In the flesh,” Harry said with a grin. “But don’t worry, you’re not my future father-in-law. As cool as that’d be.”
Tony blinked once. “Right.”
Harry turned to Y/N, leaning in slightly. “See you at the game, love.”
He winked, then sauntered toward the elevator, not a single ounce of shame in him. The doors closed behind him with a soft ding.
Y/N let out a long breath.
Tony set the glass down. “You wanna tell me what that was?”
She shifted her weight, arms crossed over her chest. “We just... walked and talked. He was being nice.”
“He always that flirty with you?” Tony asked casually, even though there was a sharper edge buried in there somewhere.
Y/N sighed. “He’s like that with everyone.”
Tony gave a look that said sure he is, but didn’t press.
She walked over to the counter and leaned on it. “I’m sorry. For earlier. For storming off.”
Tony finally relaxed a little, watching her.
“I get it, kid,” he said. “I was your age once. Believe it or not, I was also dramatic.”
Y/N cracked a smile.
“But we’re a team, you and me,” Tony added. “And when you shut me out like that... it stings a little. I’m not against you. I just worry.”
“I know,” she said quietly.
“You’re growing up. And I don’t totally love the fact that boys are a regular topic of conversation now.”
She laughed under her breath. “Me neither, honestly.”
There was a beat of silence.
Tony softened. “He’s sweet to you, huh?”
Y/N nodded. “Yeah.”
“You like him?”
She hesitated, then shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Tony reached over and ruffled her hair gently. “Well, just make sure whoever it is... they’re good to you. No less than that.”
Y/N leaned into the contact for a moment before pulling away with a quiet, “’Kay.”
“Now go shower,” Tony said, walking away. “You smell like teenage angst and overpriced perfume.”
Y/N rolled her eyes, but for the first time that day, her chest didn’t feel quite as heavy.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆
Peter sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, fingers tugging at his hair like if he pulled hard enough, the thoughts would all fall out of his head.
It had been hours since the fight.
He’d replayed every second of it over and over. The way her voice shook. The way she looked at him like he’d actually hurt her — because he had. The way she’d slammed the car door, the sound echoing through the city like a punch to the gut.
He shouldn’t have said those things. About Harry. About her.
But she shouldn’t have gone to him.
She always used to come to Peter when she was upset. For comfort. For advice. For literally anything. And now—
Now she went to Harry Osborn.
Peter’s stomach twisted again. He hated it. Hated that she looked so okay walking away from him. Hated that she wanted to talk to Harry instead of him.
And worst of all? He got it.
Because Peter had pushed her away. He’d snapped. Again. He didn’t trust himself to keep it together anymore — not when it came to her.
Because he knew what happened to the people Peter Parker loved.
His parents. Uncle Ben.
And now, as Spider-Man, he had more enemies than ever. More danger. More risk.
He could handle that. He could take every hit, every threat, every loss — if it meant people like Y/N stayed safe. If it meant she stayed safe.
She was trained. Strong. Genius-level smart. But even so… if anything ever happened to her because of him—
Peter closed his eyes. He wouldn’t survive it. He wouldn’t forgive himself.
His phone buzzed on his nightstand. A text from Gwen:
Ugh just finished that leadership meeting. We have a day and a half to pull off a pep rally!!
He stared at it for a second. Then, slowly, he picked up the phone and hit call.
She answered after a few rings, her voice warm and familiar. “Hey, Peter. Everything okay?”
He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, I just—wanted to check in. I know you’ve been busy.”
“Tell me about it,” Gwen groaned. “You would not believe how intense the other members are. One guy literally made a PowerPoint about the half time for the game.”
Peter laughed under his breath. “That sounds like something Flash would do.”
“It was Flash.”
That made him laugh for real. “Right. Should’ve guessed.”
There was a pause. Not awkward, but not easy either.
“So…” Gwen said gently. “Everything okay? You sound kinda…”
“Yeah,” Peter said too quickly. “Yeah, just—tired.”
Another beat.
“Hey,” he said suddenly. “You wanna go to the game together?”
Gwen blinked through the phone. “Uh… Peter. We’re all already going together. As a group?”
“No, I mean—” He scratched the back of his neck, the words foreign and stiff. “Like. Just us. As a… date.”
A moment of silence.
“Oh.” Gwen’s voice brightened. “Yeah. Yeah, of course! I’d love that.”
Peter smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Cool.”
They talked a few more minutes before hanging up. Gwen was sweet. Funny. She liked him. It would be easy. Safe.
And maybe that’s all he could afford to want.
Because Harry Osborn could give Y/N everything — money, status, safety. Peter had web fluid, sarcasm, and trauma.
He leaned back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, fists clenched around his phone.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
But at least this way… no one else would get hurt. Not really.
author's note: guys i was scared to post this one LMAO don't get mad at me!! i'm lowkey loving y/n and harry tho, idk he's kinda doing it for me. peter needs to learn how to communicate. but he won't. not really :p
i'm gonna post my clueless playlist later and you're all gonna listen and you're gonna love it!
ummm yeah! lmk what yall think so far (don't get mad at me)
sure, your ship is strong, but is your ship "we had to kill one of the main characters so people could stop shipping him with his best friend together" kind of strong???
the part of this Hunger Games resurgence that amuses me the most is people who only absorbed the series through pop culture finally reading the books and going “Peeta Mellark supremacy???” “Everlark rights???” and I’m like GIRL YES we’ve been saying this for a decade
