Y/n Stark is hidden from the rest of the world because, well, she's Tony Stark's secret daughter. She works as a clerk for her father. You know the normal stuff, answering emails, organizing everything, doing things that the Avengers might need. But...
My life is as boring as it can be. Nobody knows I exist because my dad says, "We don't need the press swarming after you like bees to pollen every time you try to get us good coffee." Yes those were his exact words. So I have been stuck in the Avengers tower ever since I was born. Yes I am allowed to go into the outside world, but I seem like a normal person in the busy streets of Upstate Manhattan just trying to get a decent cup of coffee. But in fact I am not a "normal" teen, I may or may not have cool powers. I can listen to what people are thinking, feel other peoples emotions, and I have telekinesis. I'm kinda special. I am 26, yeah so cool being an adult but still living in your parents penthouse because your broke as fuck and your dad is the richest fucking person on the planet. NOT. Well I at least get to tell the Avengers what to do. That's fun bossing Steve Rogers around when he's like twice my size. To get off the sad topic that I'm broke, I have one of the biggest rooms. I have a really big problem with Harry Potter, so that is what my entire room looks like and I am completely okay with that.
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(This is your room btw. I LOVE IT AHH)
I look almost exactly like my mom. I have very light but darker than her red hair. I also have piercing blue eyes that look like ice. I also have freckles on literally every inch of my body. But what makes up for my appearance by looking like my mom is my mind. I have the "let's graduate from MIT at 15" mind. I also have the same witty comebacks and mind just like my father. I mostly help dad on his workshop tinkering. I always thought mom's job was cool but it didn't really suit me.(see what I did with the suit thing, I'm so funny Ik)I wanted to take apart an old car and figure out all of the nuts and bolts and why they are there in the first place. Who needs instructions. Fuck that. Imagine not building your own car at 9 with a small amount of help with your father because you were a twig and couldn't lift shit. I'm just messing. I am not one of those "rich up their own asshole girls that think they own the world because their parents called them a princess". You know what names my dad calls me? Let's see, peanut, noodle, jellybean, nugget, and small fry. Yeah he still calls me those TODAY.
