The White Pallax (Peter Parker x Reader)

I - La Chica N - Sorry. I'm new.

This sucks.

This sucks, this sucks, this sucks.

Frustrated, you throw your most recent invention at the wall. Metal shards clatter to the ground. It's the fourth prototype for something so simple. Just a little communication device. That never fucking works. You bang your head against the table. Something in your mind has to work.

"¡Venga, funcione!" You groan. Alas, nothing surfaces. Nothing except a headache.

"Hey kiddo," a voice snaps you from your self loathing. You swivel around in your leather rolling chair. Standing in the doorway is an older man, raven hair peppered with gray. Most people know him as the famed Tony Stark. You know him as obnoxious Uncle Tony. "How's the inventing going?"

"Fantastic," you drawl. Annoyance tingles in your veins. "Can't you tell?"

Tony chuckles. "Ah, love the sarcasm."

"Not surprised. I did get it from you," You point out. Finished talking with him, you swivel back towards your desk. It's cluttered. Papers full of scribbles that are meant to be notes litter the table, along with scraps of metal and wires. Just staring at it worsens the pounding in your head. Like someone decided to turn your brain into a maraca and bring it to a quinceañera.

Tony grabs the back of your chair and spins you back around. You glare up at him. "Yeah, sorry time for school."

"No."

He rolls his eyes. "We're not having this discussion again."

"We'll have this discussion as much as I want."

"Y/N. You've been putting off school for nearly two months now." Tony crosses his arms and taps his foot. "I only allowed that because you were adjusting to life here. But the window for enrollment is almost closed. You're going."

You want to argue. More than anything, you do. But you know you'll inevitably lose. With a resigned sigh, you stand. "Fine. Fine. Whatever."

Tony smiles. "Ah good. I love it when we're in agreement."

You shove past him, being sure to hit your shoulder against him. How long have you been staying here? Only a few months. Since May. You'd met Tony a few times when you were younger. Thought he was cool then. Now that he's your legal guardian, you find him much less interesting. But maybe it's just because you miss your dad.

He died a while ago. It still doesn't feel real. Sometimes you can trick yourself into thinking that you're just on a study trip in Queens and your dad is anxiously awaiting your return home in Argentina. But then you turn on your phone and look at your background. It's fourteen year old you and your dad smiling like idiots in front of the strange stone heads on Easter Island. And every time you stare at it, tears sting your eyes. Because you know he is gone. That trip was the best you took together. The last.

Even now, you stare at it. That familiar prickling feeling is back. Hot tears trail down your face. You sniffle and wipe your nose. At least you're alone in the back seat. For a minute, you thought Tony was going to ride with you to your first day of school. But he just told Happy to take you. Honestly, you're not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. For now, it's the former.

The car rolls to a stop in front of a drab brick building. In large letters across the front of it, the words MIDTOWN HIGH SCHOOL only makes the building more lackluster. You throw your door open and step out onto the sidewalk. Happy informs you that he'll be picking you up as soon as school ends. You wave and trudge across the school's front lawn and in through the doors, just in time for first bell. Kids flood the halls, pushing each other for space as they race towards class.