"Any news on the kid?" Those words. Those words were like poison, leaving a spiking pain in your heart as your stomach dropped.

Those words, the first words your father spoke to you when he stepped foot near you. He was alive, barely standing, but alive. Days in space gave him a good fight, the one Thanos brought, was even greater. It was nothing compared to the fight that went on in your body.

The pounding in your head as those words echoed like a ghost, forever warning that you were nothing compared to Peter. The sharp pain each tear inflicted as they silently rolled down your cheeks. The twisting and flipping your stomach made when your father appeared next to you in battle.

Everything was back to normal: Thanos was dead, his army brought back to their place of rest, the team back together. You had done it, you had defeated Thanos. Years of hard work paid off.

But it didn't stop the resentment you felt when Peter hugged your father. The smile on his young face brought pain you didn't even know existed. The feeling of loneliness hit like a tsunami, each wave kicking at your heart like fatigue to your body.

Tony was in terrible shape: the gauntlet affected his body in the worst possible way. The anger you felt towards him was pushed away as you ran your hands over his wounds, stitching them back to perfection. Nonetheless, he was your father, no matter how badly he treated you.

Your work was done, you healed everyone's wound, you were finished. Years of being the world's superhero didn't stop you from flinching when Peter laid his hand on your shoulder.

"Yes," you asked, the words sounding bitter and distant. That heat, that feeling of anger welled up inside, desperate to break free from its encased enclosure. "You're okay," he whispered, his frame getting closer.

You glared, sneering as you shoved him away, hatred evident on your beaten-up face. "(Y/n), what's wrong," your father spoke, walking to aid peter, who had fallen from your slight attack. The Avengers were now watching with curiosity running through their veins.

"What's wrong? All these years spent, all these years of blood, sweat, tears, were they worth it?" You spoke with such distaste, it rippled through your body. Your hands tightened into fists, your eyes welled up with tears, ready to fall.

"Of course, it was worth it. Why would you say that?" Your father didn't take one step towards you, staying at Peter's side, like a protective parent.

"When you stepped foot near me, you asked about Peter. Not one greeting or one hug or even a glance of relief that I was alive, you're OWN DAUGHTER WAS ALIVE," you shouted, tears fell from your eyes, landing on the ground making the slightest noise.

"But, as Peter shows, he gets a hug and a loving kiss on the cheek like he's your son!" You stepped back, eyes glowing a deep red. You couldn't hurt anyone, though. Your powers were the complete opposite.

Your father stepped forward, hand outstretched in a way that was indescribable. It wasn't like a father, it wasn't protective, like a guardian, it was out of fear.

"Honey, don't say that," he pleaded, tears didn't fall from his glossy eyes. They stayed where they were, almost mocking you.

"How do you think that makes me feel?! This-this feeling inside is nothing compared to what Thanos could ever do! It-it hurts," you sobbed, knees buckling. Rocks dug into your already scrapped legs, doing nothing against the, now, excruciating feeling your body felt.

It was like someone hitting you over and over again, never stopping. Like they were shouting insults, one after another, weakening you to the point of death.

No one stepped towards you, too afraid of your unstable mental position. With little strength left, you stood your ground and muttered.

"I'm done."