#after he somehow miraculously survived last night after all the shit I texted him today n said I love you

[angelnumber27]

my brother and I are both rly suicidal at the same time. sibling connection

[ghosttotheparty]

cotton candy skies always look better in person

2. also available on AO3 chapter one

Lucas does his friends, he does.

But if anything, he feels more real in Antwerp. More like him and less like a statue of him. Not that he doesn’t feel safe or loved with his friends, of course he does, but walking around Antwerp with just a camera and camera bag in hand, he feels more like he can do anything. He’s not afraid of bumping into people he knows, not afraid of people recognizing him.

He’s started wearing rings, necklaces. He’s grown his hair out, into actual curls that fall down the back of his neck instead of halfway across his forehead like some sort of pathetic fringe. He’s painted his fucking nails, for God’s sake, even if most of them are just clear polish, blue and orange covering his left pinky and index fingernails, he feels bold. Unstoppable.

Maybe Noah has something to do with it. Noah, who somehow Lucas has been talking to more than Kes, Isa, and Jayden. Noah, who Lucas ran into in an art supply store two weeks before he left. Noah, who Lucas trusts enough to become one of three people in Utrecht that knows about him. Lucas had told him the third time they’d hung out, told him about his former hopeless crush on Kes, and sworn him to secrecy. (Noah had pretended to lock his lips, drop the key in his mug, and drink it.) After enough conversations, Noah had been able to change his mindset completely. “You can paint your nails and be masculine. You can paint your nails and be feminine. You can do whatever the fuck you want, and you can be whatever the fuck you want. Just don’t be a poser.” Lucas had laughed.

Ralph also knows. Lucas told his over a cup of coffee too, and even though he knows Ralph would be supportive if he told him he was moving to fucking Antarctica, he was still scared. Ralph had squealed and clapped when he said it, and Lucas had smiled, but when Lucas began to cry, Ralph scooted his chair over to him and held him while he told Ralph he was scared. Scared of what he saw in the news, scared of what he saw in the streets. Scared to look gay, scared to be gay. Ralph had held his head close to his chest, combing his fingers through his curls like his mother did when he was little. Ralph whispered to him quietly. “It’s scary. It is. But it’s not your fault. You’re not the problem. They are. You just have to live, okay?” Lucas has taken “to live” to heart. He’s done just surviving. Ralph gave him a little rainbow enamel pin and a kiss on the forehead before he left. (The pin now lives on the strap of his camera bag.)

And his mother knows. Lucas had had a full-blown panic attack in his room before telling her, but she claimed she already knew. (Which, of course, wasn’t the reaction he’d expected, nor was it the reaction he’d wanted, but he’ll take what he can get.) While he cried, she’d reassured him that God loves him. And he’d cried harder. “God loves you and whoever you love,” she’d said, “and I do, too.” There were tears in her eyes, too.

He’d never doubted that she loves him. She made it clear she did. She got him his camera, she’d bought all the art supplies he needed. She’d bring home “surprises” when he was little, usually stacks of printer paper from her office, or a new marker set. He’d just worried that maybe God wouldn’t love him. That his mom would gently tell him to repent, would send him to a camp because she wanted the best for him. The possibilities were endless. The day after he came out to her, Lucas had gone to Ralph’s to tell him, and they’d celebrated. Lucas felt loved.

After coming out to her, their relationship went back to the way it was when he was a kid before he realised he’s gay. They’d started having movie night every weekend, started cooking together. Lucas told her he used to like Kes, and she’d giggled like a schoolgirl. There were no secrets between them. And everything was fine.

Until all that shit happened.

The shit that landed her in an institute and him forced to make the choice between staying with his father in Utrecht or moving to a completely different city in a completely different country, with a cousin he hadn’t seen since he was eight. He’d chosen the cousin in a heart-beat, obviously.

When he’d gone to say goodbye to her, she was laying in bed, covered in crisp, white sheets, looking up at him through dripping eyes, scared like a child. “You’ll call me, won’t you?” “Of course, mama.” “Promise?” He’d taken her hands between his and held them to her heart. “Promise.”

He’d walked out of the building with her wedding ring around his ring finger. The ring she’d told him, she only kept because his name was engraved in it. “What about you?” he’d asked, He had her ring now, but that did that leave her with? She’d patted her belly, and although he didn’t know if she was referring to her stretch marks or the c-section scar, he’d laughed tearfully with her.

The ring he often forgets about, unable to feel it on his finger after he got used to it. But he still twists it when he gets nervous or anxious.

Like now.

He’s leaning against the wall of the convenience store, headphones on, music blasting, twisting the ring quickly. (He’d texted his mom the night she’d given it to him that it fit him perfectly. Loose enough to twist easily, but not so loose he had to worry about it falling off.) The sky is soft, everything he could see washed in a golden-pink light. For a moment, he regrets not bringing his camera with him.

He stands up straight when the doors to the studio building open. This is the seventh time he’s stood here at this hour, hoping the pretty boy in tights would make his way to the door. Not that Lucas would tell anyone.

His hope starts to fade now, as the stream of dancers slows down, longer gaps of time between the door shutting behind someone and opening for someone else. He analyzes everyone’s face. None of them is him.

What if he doesn’t come weekly? What if he only comes once a month or something? What if last week was a one-time thing and Lucas never sees him again? The questions swirl around in Lucas’s mind as he cranes his neck slightly, still searching.

Then, by some miraculous sort of divine intervention, the swings open almost a full minute after being close, and he walks out.

Fuck.

He’s fucking gorgeous.

Lucas takes his headphones off, sliding them around his neck, a smile creeping across his face. The boy is talking to a girl who Lucas recognises from last week. She’s missing the dark, almost theatrical makeup, but her dark red hair is hard to miss. They’re both laughing, the boy shoving the girl to the side, and she kicks him, throwing her leg up high so it hits his shoulder. He pretends to grab at it, and she drops her leg, scrambling backwards and omitting a “No!” loud enough that bystanders turn to look. He hushes her, his eyes wide with amusement, and Lucas smiles.

He doesn’t feel like approaching him yet, not with his friend right there, even though he’s been longing to just see him since last week, So he waits, watching, trying not to look creepy by pulling out his phone and holding it in front of himself. He pauses his music, realising he left it playing.

They go back to fighting, the girl throwing punches, missing, and the boy managing to hook his arm around her neck in a faux chokehold.

Other dancers around them watch before rolling their eyes and looking away, and Lucas laughs to himself. After a few seconds, the girl breaks away, shoving the boy away and kicking his back for good measure. They exchange a few words, soaked in laughter, that Lucas can’t hear, and after a minute, Lucas becomes anxious again, wondering if they might leave together. Maybe they’re dating, he thinks, his heart dropping. He keeps watching them, his fingertips tapping his knuckles, torn between waiting a bit longer to see if she leaves, like last time, and missing his chance if they leave together.

Lucas looks away, down the road, sighing, before looking back. The girl is looking at her phone, holding the boy away from her with her other hand. After a second she says something to him, sticking her phone in the pocket of her jacket, and shakes his hand. She punches him one more time before making her way down the street, and he flips her off as she waves.

Lucas watches as the boy looks down, pulling his phone out of his pocket and adjusting the strap of his bag. He looks like he could be waiting for someone.

Now or never.

Lucas takes a deep breath before making his way down the sidewalk. He passes in front of an alleyway, glancing down it to make sure no cars or bikes are coming. He’s still twisting his ring as the boy gets closer, and he shoves his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.

Up close, Lucas could see that there’s a mole right next to his eye, a detail that doesn’t show up in the photo he’d taken last week,

Fuck. The photo. What if he thinks it was super weird? What if he was creeped out by it? But the way he smiled… Lucas has never taken a photo of a smile like that. It looks real. Genuine. Honest. Maybe he doesn’t think it was that weird.

The thought of it pushes Lucas forward until he’s standing right next to him.

“Hi.” His voice is small. The boy startles and lifts his head, looking at Lucas. His eyes are a rich brown, his lashes dark. And Lucas’s stomach feels like it goes through a whole gymnastics routine as the boy smiles slowly, recognition sparking in his expression.

“Hey.” His voice matches his eyes.

They stare at each other for a second, much like they did last week.

“I was hoping you’d be here today,” Lucas says, rocking back on his feet as he takes in the boy’s face.

“Every Thursday,” he responds, still smiling.

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Good to know.” Lucas hopes he sounds bolder than he feels. The boy tucks his phone into his pocket, facing Lucas completely. His hoodie is a light cream colour, his jacket a dark brown, almost matching his hair. (Which looks ridiculously soft. Lucas doesn’t think about combing his fingers through the mess.)

“What’s up?” the boy asks.

Lucas takes a breath before answering. This is really happening.

“Nothing. Just wondered if you wanted to hang out.

The boy’s smile takes over his face again and Lucas stares at it.

“Yeah, for sure.”

“Unless someone is coming to get you,” Lucas adds uncertainly, almost interrupting him.

“My mom just told me I’m on my own tonight, so… I’m all yours.” Lucas notices the boy’s cheeks become pink and he has to suppress another smile. “What were you thinking about doing?”

“Uhm…” Lucas pauses before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a joint. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” The boy tilts his head to the side quickly, beckoning him. Lucas follows as he leads him to the alleyway. Most of the dancers are gone by now, the street quiet. “I’m Jens, by the way.”

Jens.

It feels like the sky opens up around him.

“Lucas.”

“Where are you from?” The boy, Jens, turns into the alley, dropping his bag to the ground and jumps up onto the dumpster. Lucas watches as he brushes his hands in front of himself before sticking the joint in his mouth and copying him. After brushing his hands off, he takes it out of his mouth and answers, realising Jens has been watching him.

“Utrecht.”

“Ah.” Jens watches as Lucas pulls a lighter out of his pocket and lights the joint, blocking it from the breeze. “That explains the accent.”

Right. Lucas forgets how he sounds different to everyone around him. To him, Jens is the one with a cute accent.

Lucas takes a drag, nodding, and holds it out to Jens as he exhales. Jens (and everything else, but Lucas is only looking at Jens) is covered in pink, like God put a pair of rose-coloured glasses on the sun.

“How long have you been in Antwerp?” Jens asks, turning to look at him, pulling a leg up in front of himself.

“Just a few weeks. I moved in with my cousin.”

“Mm. Trouble at home?” Jens leans forward and passes the joint to him. Their fingers brush together and it’s like he just touched a live wire. He sighs, tilting his head back and forth.

“You could say that.” He lifts the joint to his mouth, feeling Jens watching. “How long have you lived in Antwerp?” he asks, changing the subject.

“All my life.”

“Same house, same everything?”

“Yup.”

“Sounds boring.”

Jens snorts, looking at him. Lucas is on fire.

“It was.”

By the time the joint burns down, the sky is a glowing kind of dark blue. Lucas finds out that Jens has been dancing since he was a kid, that his little sister is going to start next year. He learns that Jens is good at math but despises history. “The only things I can memorise are combinations and routines.” Lucas tells him he’ll do his history homework if Jens does his math. It’s a deal. They shake on it. (And Lucas feels like he’ll be shaking for the rest of time.)

Lucas tells him he’s been into art and photography for years but only really started about a year or so ago. Jens asks if he still has the picture he took of him last week.

“Of course, how could I get rid of my only picture of my model?” he says, realising that they’re flirting.

“We can take a better picture next week.”

Next week. Lucas feels like his soul is smiling.

“Thursday evening photoshoot?”

“Perfect.”

Jens giggles and Lucas thinks it might be his favourite sound in the world.

That night, his cousin asks how his day went. Lucas tells him he wandered the city, taking pictures on his phone, which is true. He thinks about telling him about Jens, but doesn’t.

He wants to keep this for himself for now.

[areluctantsblog]

Teacher!Tony wrong number au - part 3

part 1

part 2

I’ve made an edit for this, I think it reflects the mood of the first few chapters (there will be texts, too)

Tony’s surprised to feel unusually restless all through Monday morning. It’s not until the end of lunch-break, while he’s walking towards his classroom that he manages to pinpoint the feeling as impatience. Once this realisation hits him, he doesn’t need to look much further for an explanation. Part of it sits in his briefcase and the other part most likely still in the cafeteria. Tony sighs, but cannot quite supress a smirk as the memory of texting with Peter Parker resurfaces in his mind. It’s been the funniest thing that has happened to him in years. And the most distracting, when it came to grading homework.

A small voice in the back of his mind tells Tony that he shouldn’t have enjoyed the whole thing nearly as much as he had, but he managed to silence it the night before and he sure isn’t going to dwell on it right before meeting the boy. Anyway, what is there to worry about? It was an accident and a very entertaining one at that. He couldn’t resist letting the boy in on the joke. It’s not as if Tony has saved his number or planning to go on texting him.

He’s already sitting at his desk when he realises that he’s arguing with himself about the very thing he was going to put out of his mind. He shakes his head and flips through his notes for the class just as the bell rings and the first early students start entering the classroom. Peter isn’t among them. Tony is confused to feel his stomach churn and his heart beat hard against his chest. Yes, he feels impatient to see the boy, but only to see Peter’s reaction to the foolish joke Tony’s bored and tired brain came up last night. There is nothing, nothing to warrant being anxious about seeing the boy.

And yet, when Peter enters, Tony feels safer to remain seated. He’s not sure at all if his legs would support him. When their eyes meet for the tiniest fraction of a second, it takes all the experience of Tony’s 42 years to fight back the blush that threatens to spread on his face. Peter’s not so good at hiding his feelings. He turns an adorable shade of pink as he walks towards his desk. Tony lets his gaze linger on the boy for a few seconds, but he’s all too aware of Leeds watching his every move. He’s the least subtle of the three of them, but there is no surprise there. Still, Tony is grateful that he doesn’t make a scene starting to whisper to Peter the moment they are seated.

Tony is lost, unable to make sense of the unexpected sensations that have flooded his body, nor the unease that is evident from Peter’s stance. This isn’t even close to what Tony expected. He imagined maybe sharing a private smile and then going on about things as usual. Instead, they both seem mortified in the presence of the other and the idea that maybe unintentionally he messed up and made Peter uncomfortable hits Tony hard. Suddenly, he would do anything to get some reassurance that Peter is all right, but the boy’s eyes are fixed on his desk. Tony clears his throat, desperate to keep his voice normal despite his anxiety. He tells the class their topic for the day and that he’s going to hand back out previous week’s assignments before the end of the period.

Tony has no idea how he gets through the next 40 minutes. He doesn’t remember ever being so distracted during a lesson. It says something about his genius that he doesn’t make any blatant mistakes, but it’s bad enough that he has to clear his throat to gather his thoughts every five minutes. Peter looks at the blackboard and somehow manages to even look at him without meeting his eyes once. Tony wouldn’t be able to guess which of them is more on edge. But they’ve got no reason, none whatsoever… It’s not as if they’ve done something…

Tony’s voice breaks. That was the last thing he needed on his mind. He takes a deep breath to centre himself. He realises that he has no idea of what he was saying. He wraps up best he can and decides to give the class a problem to work on. If he expected, however, that it would be easier for him to sit silently at his table while the kids work, he was deadly wrong. The minute he stops his lecture, his mind is flooded with anxious thoughts about how he fucked up and probably hurt one of his students. What’s worst is that whatever damage he’s done won’t stop there, because Tony is a stupid, reckless, irresponsible man who was completely out of his mind last night and when he got too bored to continue grading, picked up Peter’s messy homework and… Shit, how could he be so childish? There’s no turning back now, though. It’s ten minutes to the end of the period, so Tony tells himself to get a grip on himself and stand up.

Even through all the anxiety, his brain registers Peter putting his pen down the very second Tony decides to stand. He doubts he barely even moved yet. The realisation that the boy is so tuned in to him sends a shudder down Tony’s spine. He makes a silent vow that if he survives this period, he’ll never to do anything remotely reckless in his life again. Slowly the rest of the class notices that their teacher stood up and start lifting their gazes. Tony tells them to finish the problem at home if they haven’t solved it yet. He tries to ignore the satisfied smile flashing across Peter Parker’s face as he puts away his notebook, but he can’t help feeling a bit proud, too.

“So,” he begins, voice annoyingly hoarse. “Most of you have done all right on last week’s assignment, but I suggest you all read up a bit more on the topic to avoid repeating the same mistakes. I wouldn’t neglect today’s topic either. You will need to use both in the end of term project. If you have any questions, come find me after class or whenever,” he says while walking around, handing out papers. All along he’s acutely, painfully aware of Peter Parker’s presence. It’s almost as if the boy’s attention worked as some sort of gravitational force on him.

When Tony finally reaches p in the alphabet, his arms go numb and weightless at the same time, as if detached from his body. Miraculously, he doesn’t drop any of the papers and he even manages to offer a silent “well done” to Parker when he hands him his homework. Peter doesn’t look at him and Tony doesn’t linger, but standing so near him, he gets a hunch of what the boy’s feeling. To his surprise, Peter doesn’t seem angry, nor disgusted. What is the problem, then? It confuses Tony to no end.

He hurries to finish handing out the papers before Peter reaches the fifth page of his homework and sees what Tony’s done. Tony returns to his desk and risks a glance towards the boy. He’s turning to look at the last page, problem number 5, just as the bell rings and everyone gets out of their seats, hiding Peter from his view. Tony sighs and tries to convince himself that it doesn’t matter. Yet, it takes all his resolve not to follow Peter around with his eyes as he gathers his stuff and walks to the door closely flanked by his friend. Tony only allows himself a quick glance when the boy is already out of the door, but of course Peter turns around that exact moment and looks him straight in the eye. Tony’s astonished to see his face light up in the brightest smile he has ever seen on him.

The boy walks away, and Tony buries his face in his hands. He’s exhausted from the multitude of sensations that coursed through his body in the past hour. Even as he sits there, finally alone in the empty classroom, he feels shame, anger, excitement, but also a trace of relief. Grateful that he has no more classes for the day, Tony takes his time gathering his things and walking out to the parking lot. All he wants is to get as far away from the school as possible. Or is it Peter he’s so desperate to escape? Or better still, is it his own stupidity?

His wishes don’t seem to be so easily granted, however. He doesn’t even reach his car before his phone buzzes. He takes it out of his pocket with some trepidation and his fears are confirmed when he sees the message.

The temptation of doing something stupid, like admitting how much he enjoyed their texting is overwhelming, but Tony manages to rein in his treacherous brain. Still, he can feel self-loathing clench tight around his insides. Couldn’t he have said something less… less… Couldn’t he have said less, period?

There’s no harm in telling the boy that. He aced that assignment and no one else had. There’s nothing wrong texting him something that he could have told him in front of the whole class. Except that he didn’t and now, when he sees the replying “Um, thanks, Mr Stark” he can literally see the blush creeping up on the boy’s cheeks. It’s then that Tony knows that he’s fucked, and he barely resists stomping on his phone right there in the parking lot. But he promised himself not to be reckless, and he is polite, so he types out “Sure. Have a nice afternoon”, throws the phone on the backseat as he sits in and revs his engine up.

Sooo, Tony’s POV. Let me know what you think about it/him. I’m happy to say that I’ve got some more written for this fic (and much more planned out), but the next update won’t follow quite as soon as this one has.

Thanks for all of you who stuck around and welcome, new readers :)

Also, you might have noticed that I’ve made Tony a bit younger than canon. I’m still deciding on Peter’s exact age, but for the moment he’s definitely underage, so fair warning (which I should have added before).

Edit (08-02-2018) Part4's been out for a few days and Part5 is coming soon ;)

10-02-2019: Part5

[professor-hiddles]

One and Only pt.2

pairing: peter parker x reader

word count: 3.9k

warnings: super minor mentions of death, post-breakup brooding & again, cute lil peter

pt.1

Your hospital visit was nothing out of the ordinary, the E.R. staff knew you by name at this point. After playing sports your whole life, breaking bones here and there, you’re bound to end up in a hospital at one point or another. The last time you were there, it was a fractured wrist from falling during soccer practice. Your doctor told you to take it easy, but ‘easy’ wasn’t in your vocabulary.

Your doctor, Dr. Collins, decided it would be best if you stayed overnight, just so they could watch for any potential internal bleeding or other complications. This sounded absolutely ridiculous to you, but understandable to your father.

“Honey, its only one night. I’m sure you’ll survive. Anyway, I gotta go, I have to pick up your brother before work. I’m working the night shift today, but call if you need anything, I love you,” your dad said, kissing you on the forehead and walking out. Now, it was just you and your thoughts left in the room.

[P.P.] Hey, Y/N, how’s the hospital?

You smiled at the text, happy that someone actually cared enough to text you.

[Y/N] eh, could have been worse, but nothing I haven’t seen before lol the food still sucks, and my dad left so i’m a little lonely at the moment

[P.P.] What if I told u I was on my way there? I might bring food too if ur nice lol

[Y/N] PLEASE DO I’LL LOVE U FOREVER PETER

Just as you put your phone down, there was a soft knock on your door. Your head snapped up, to find Peter standing there, pizza box and teddy bear in hand. A wide smile formed on your face, and you beckoned for him to come in.

“Peter! You brought food!” You threw an arm around him, careful not to further agitate your already hurting ribcage.

He chuckled, opening the box and handing you a slice. “Thought you might want some company. I was actually on my way up when I texted you, and then I saw the gift shop, and this little guy was just calling my name,” he said, handing you the bear.

“Now I wont be lonely! Also, I don’t think this counts as our date, so I’d be more than willing to go out with you as soon as I’m out of here,” you said, smile still planted on your face.

He smiled, knowing that the both of you subconsciously counted this as a date, but neither cared to admit it. He grabbed your hand, squeezing it a bit.

“That would be awesome, Y/N. So maybe we should start brainstorming? Like ideas for the date, you know?” He almost looked nervous, though you doubted that this was his first actual date. You nodded your head, pulling a piece of paper from your backpack that your dad left. ‘Do some homework, Y/N. Keep your mind on track.’

Even in the hospital you couldn’t catch a break.

“Alright, so, what do you want to do? Movies, dinner, hang out; what style of date do you fancy, Mr. Parker?” You joked, smiling. The gears were turning in his head, trying to think of places he liked.

“Okay, well there is this one spot, right in the middle of Central Park, there’s a huge-ass rock that I like to lay on and look at the stars, but I get it if its too far for you. I know you  sometimes have to watch your brother, so if you want to stay closer to home, I’m sure I could think of somewh—“ You put a hand over his mouth to stop his rambling.

“Peter, that sounds perfect. It really doesn’t matter if its a kind of far, I can always get my neighbor to watch my brother. If it’s somewhere you recommend, I’m sure I’ll love it. Now, when do you want to go?” You chewed on the end of the pen, heart fluttering at the thought of actually going on a date with him.

“How’s Friday? I could swing by around 7? You know, if you feel good enough, with your cracked rib and all.” He chuckled a little under his breath, at the small spider-man pun he made. You didn’t seem to catch it, which was a small relief for him. 

You nodded, setting the date in your calendar. “You’ve got yourself a date, now hopefully I can convince my dad to let me go. He’s too protective sometimes, you know?” Peter laughed, thinking of his Aunt May, and how protective she was. His phone then buzzed with an important message from Tony Stark, signaling it was time for him to leave.

“Yeah, I completely understand. Speaking of protective family, I gotta get going. My Aunt May would kill me if she knew I wasn’t at decathlon practice right now,” he said, watching for your reaction. Your face did fall a bit, but you understood why he had to go.

“Don’t miss me too much, Parker. Text me when you get home though, so I know you’re safe, ok?” He nodded his head, giving you a quick hug and a kiss on the head before making his way out.

Once you were alone, you looked at the small bear that he bought for you. You noticed it was dressed like Spider-man, which made you laugh a bit.

“Guess its just me and you now, Spidey. Hope you like ‘How I met Your Mother,’ ‘cause thats what I’m putting on.” Your hand reached for the remote, and you settled into the hospital bed, with a slice of pizza and the bear.

The next morning, you were woken up to doctors and nurses clamoring around your room. You rubbed your eyes, confused as to what was going on. Your father was there, arguing with the doctor, who apparently wanted to keep you there for another night.

“Oh, good, you’re awake. How do you feel? Any pain? Nausea? Vomiting?” The doctor was moving you around, getting your heartbeat, checking the wounded area, looking very frazzled.

“No, I feel absolutely fine. Great, in fact. Why is everyone so antsy? Did something happen while I was sleeping?” You were incredibly confused, no one wanted to tell you anything.

“Sweetpea, this might sound strange, but the doctors told me that somehow, your rib healed itself while you were sleeping. Something that should have taken at least a few weeks to heal, miraculously happened overnight. They want to keep you for further observation, but I don’t want you to be an experiment,” your father had a comforting hand on your shoulder, but your mind was struggling to grasp what had just been told to you.

Your first instinct was to poke the rib, for whatever reason. No pain. Your eyebrows furrowed, more puzzled than ever. How is this possible?

“Your daughter is a medical mystery to us, right now, Mr. Y/L/N. With your permission, we would like to take a blood sample, to see if theres maybe something strange going on within her,” the doctor said to your father, who had a nervous hand running through his hair.

“No. Absolutely not. If she’s healed, then I’m taking her home. She has school, after all,” he said, gathering your things. Dr. Collins was trying to get him to stop for a moment, but your father wasn’t having it.

“Sir, I really don’t think thats the best thing to do right now. If we can figure out what exactly is going on, we could potentially help so many people,” the doctor said, trying to convince him. Your father still refused, he didn’t want them poking and prodding at you, and since you were still a minor, you didn’t have much of a say.

“Like I said, absolutely not. If she want’s to do this when she’s eighteen, thats going to be her decision. But while she’s under my protection, I’m going to have to say no,” He signed the discharge papers, and you were out.

It was a bit irrational, but you knew why your father said no. Your mother died in the same hospital three years ago, after a gunshot to the abdomen. She had lost too much blood, and the doctors couldn’t do anything. Your father blamed the doctors and the hospital, so he was reluctant to even take you for minor injuries.

You decided not to break the awkward silence in the car, so instead you took out your phone and texted Peter.

[Y/N] guess whatttttt

[P.P.] what????

[Y/N] i got discharged!! i still have to go to school though :((

[P.P.] its only 7:30am how are you out so soon?? i was sure they would keep you at least until noon

[P.P.] also yikes @ the school thing

[Y/N] apparently my bones healed overnight its super weird

[Y/N] OMG WAIT AM I A SUPERHERO

[Y/N] SHIT I COULD BE LIKE SPIDERGIRL OR SOMETHING

[Y/N] brb trying to shoot webs rn

[Y/N] catch me as the next member of the avengers bb

[P.P.] im sure spiderman would love to have you as his sidekick

[Y/N] LISTEN BUDDY I AM NOT A SIDEKICK

[Y/N] if either one of us had to be a sidekick its you peter parkour

[P.P.] keep telling yourself that lol

[P.P.] wait did you just call me parkour

[Y/N] yep i did meanie

You slipped your phone into your pocket chuckling when your dad pulled up in front of your house.

“Go take a quick shower and change your clothes, Y/N. I gotta have you at school for third period,” he said, chuckling at your groan.

“Do I have to go? Its not like anyone would miss me, dad,” you said, giving your best puppy dog eyes. He almost fell for it, but shook his head at the last second, telling you that you had to go.

You trudged into the house, dreading going to school. Another groan escaped your lips as you realized that you had practice today, and since your rib was healed, you couldn’t use that as an excuse. You took your sweet time getting ready, much to your fathers chagrin. You were finally dressed and ready to go an hour later, your dad shaking his head, because it shouldn’t take that long for someone to shower and put on a hoodie with sweats.

You rode the whole car ride with your hood up, headphones in. When your dad finally pulled up in front of the school, you left the car reluctantly, backpack hanging off one shoulder.

Your hood was still up, and you sat down in third period physics with a sigh. Formulas littered the board, a barely audible groan escaped, as Peter looked over from the seat next you, chuckling. Your teacher was going on about angular velocity at the moment, but everything went in one ear and out the other.

“You look like hell, spider-girl,” he said, trying to contain a laugh. You shot a glare his way, tightening your hood around your face. You slumped further down in your chair, wishing you were invisible, or sleeping.

“I feel like it too, parkour. I’d rather be back at the hospital being tested, dude. Anything would be better than physics right now,” you said, pouting and turning back to the notes on the board.

The rest of the day went by rather slowly, until you got to practice. You jogged onto the field, greeting the rest of your team and your coach. She told you to take it easy, but you had no intention of actually listening.

The drill that was currently going on was weaving, your favorite. The ball had started at you, and was going smoothly until the two girls with you decided only to pass to each other. This frustrated you, as you knew they just wanted to pity you for being hurt the day prior.

You let out an angry groan, charging after the ball even though it wasn’t your turn. If they don’t want to play fair, we won’t.

You dribbled the ball down the field, people were yelling at you, but you drowned it out. Your team’s goalie looked more than ready to block your shot, but all it took was a fake left and shot right to score on her.

Adrenaline pumped through you as you smiled, walking back up the field. You heard someone cheering for you on the sidelines, surprised to see Peter in the stands. Your smile grew wider, and you waved to him, acknowledging his cheering.

You could have sworn you heard him yell ‘thats my girl’ but you just shook it off, deducing that your ears were playing tricks on you.

“Y/L/N, what the hell was that? You just screwed up that whole drill! Not cool, Y/N,” one of the girls, Casey Jones, said, looking aggravated. You scoffed, ready to fight back, but your coach spoke up for you.

“No, she did exactly what I would have done. You two weren’t passing to her. This drill is about team work, not exclusion. So, if I’m not mistaken, Casey, you and Adriana are the ones who are ‘not cool’. You two can sit on the sidelines and watch until you figure out how to work as a team,” your coach said, earning glares from the two girls as they walked to the side, but ultimately they stopped talking.

“Thanks, coach,” you said, giving her a small, grateful smile. She clapped you on the back, turning away.

“Its no big deal, really. I’m proud of you for taking charge in that drill, you executed that shot perfectly, Y/N, and apparently I’m not the only one who thinks so,” she said, nodding her head toward Peter.

“Oh, we’re not together, coach. Its..complicated,” you said, before taking a sip of your water.

“I saw him with you at the nurse’s office the other day, you two looked pretty cozy. But, if you say its nothing, then I guess I have to believe it. All I’m gonna say is that you could have fooled me,” and with that, your coach turned and walked back onto the field, leaving you standing there, smiling like an idiot.

You looked back over, looking to see if he was still there. He wasn’t in the stands anymore, he was talking to Liz Toomes. Of course, I should have known. Every negative possibility ran through your head in that moment.

You jogged off the field, trying to figure out why Liz was the center of his attention. He had been so flirty with you, even going to the lengths of setting up a date, and you couldn’t help but wonder if his intentions with you were simply platonic. You knew he had a ‘crush’ on Liz last year, he was always staring at her, he even took her to homecoming! It hurt you, you had really thought that he was over her.

Granted, you did have a boyfriend last year, that was the only reason for why Peter went after Liz. Of course, you didn’t know that. He was seeking comfort, since you couldn’t be his at the time.

Your boyfriend had broken up with you over the summer, and it made you sad to say the least. The two of you were in love, or so you thought. He was cheating on you with a girl on your team, forcing you to question the integrity of the whole relationship.

Even when he broke up with you, it was done maliciously, he never wanted you to date anyone else. He decided that it would be best to break your spirit, not just your heart. In turn, you moped around for all of August, barely wanting to go outside. 

You barely even got out of bed. Your family had no idea what to do, your brother would try to comfort you, by bringing in little lego creations. Your father bought endless pints of ice cream, it was a wonder how you didn’t weigh 300 pounds by the end of summer. He had never been on the receiving end of a breakup, he had no idea how to get you through it.

He decided it might help to call his old college friend, May Parker. Unfortunately, she couldn’t make it, so she sent Peter instead, knowing that the two of you went to school together (and because he had a crush on you, but he didn’t know that she knew).

Of course, Peter was over the moon that he got to see you, but also heartbroken at the sight of your sadness. He broke things off with Liz that same week, but the two were still friends. He did everything that he could to make you feel better, he even sat through your favorite Disney movies with you.

It was perfect, but only lasted for a few days. You both had obligations, Peter with his Stark Internship, and you with your volunteer work. The two of you didn’t see each other again until school, and that brings us to the current time.

After seeing Peter with Liz, you went to the locker room, muttering under your breath. You slammed your locker closed, the girls around you jumping at the sudden noise. You whispered a quick ‘sorry,’ and left the room. You moved through the halls of your school quickly, hood up trying not to draw any attention to yourself.

It wasn’t unlike you to be seen in the library, its where you went to cool off. You settled into a chair in the back, cracking open the first book you pulled off the shelf, which happened to be 'Norse Myths and Gods: A History.’

You loved reading about mythology and gods from all cultures, it fascinated you to every extent of the word. You opened the book to see weapons and tools, your eyes falling on one, called the Megingjörð. Apparently, it was a belt worn by Thor, God of Thunder, said to double his strengths, but current whereabouts are unknown, if it was even real.

You were shaken out of your concentration when a body plopped down in front of you, causing you to jump a bit. You looked up, eyes falling on the one person you didn’t want to see.

“Norse Gods, huh? You know Tony Stark’s met Thor? Apparently he’s a super cool dude, super buff, too,” Peter said, flipping through the book. You pulled the book out of his hands, eyes focusing back on the page.

Without looking up, you replied flatly, “Thats nice, Peter.”

You saw his face drop from your peripheral vision, and he looked down at his hands.

“Did I do something? Y/N, whats going on?” He asked, barely a whisper. Your heart nearly broke at the sight, he looked genuinely upset.

“No, nothing. Its my fault for thinking that someone would actually want to be with me. But I guess I don’t really deserve to be happy,” you said, trying to focus on the book instead of looking at him. He grabbed your hand, desperately trying to figure out why you would say such a thing.

“Y/N, why would you think that? Did someone say something to you? ‘Cause if they did I’ll beat them up, I swear,” He said, puffing his chest outward, you caught your lips turning upward.

“No one had to say anything, Peter. I saw you talking to Liz earlier, so if you want, you can go talk to her and let me wallow in my pity party,” you took your hand from his, putting your attention back on the page of the book.

He looked around, trying to get a sense of what was going on, and then it clicked. “Y/N, can you look at me please? Are you jealous of Liz?” he said, pushing the book down with a finger.

You huffed, closing the book and looking dead at him. “What do you think?”

“I think that you have absolutely no reason to be jealous. She’s in my calculus class, and needed the notes from todays lesson. And if we’re really talking about deserving things right now, I honestly think you deserve the world. Come on, I have something to show you,” He grabbed your hand, pulling you up. You barely had time to grab your bag off the floor, he was pulling you to the door.

He took you in front of a set of lockers, nothing particularly out of the ordinary. “Okay, you have to promise not to tell anyone about what I’m about to show you. I need you to swear, Y/N,” he was looking you in the eye, holding a pinky out for you to swear on.

You grabbed his pinky with yours, rolling your eyes. “Alright, so whats so special about this set of lockers?”

A grin crossed his features, as he looked from you to the lockers. He bent down, and with seemingly no effort at all, he picked up the set of lockers, pulling out a small bottle.

“Dude, what the hell?! How did you just pick up those lockers? They have to weigh like a thousand pounds!”

He didn’t answer the question, instead just tossing you the bottle of a very sticky substance. “Uh, Peter, I know we’re close and all, but I don’t know if we’re this close.”

Peter looked confused for a moment, before disgust and amusement both appeared on his face at the same time. “Ugh, Y/N, thats so gross. Why would I keep that in a bottle?”

You shrugged, looking between the bottle and the boy in front of you. “So what is it?”

“This, is my Stark Internship. This stuff is the webbing that Spider-man uses. I made it myself,” he said, looking awfully proud of his creation.

“Wait, theres no way. Why would Tony Stark ask a sixteen year old to make Spider-man’s web fluid?” you asked, placing one hand on your hip and looking closely at the bottle.

“It’s a story for another day. Look, I can prove to you that this is the web fluid. Do you trust me?” he said, holding out a hand, which you reluctantly took.

“I guess so, why? How do you plan on proving it?” he again neglected to answer the question, taking the bottle from your hand and pulling you away from the school. You walked with him until the two of you reached an alleyway, your skepticism only growing.

He placed his bag down on the floor, reaching into it. He dug around for a moment, before seemingly landing on what he was looking for. He pulled out a small contraption, it looked like a high tech bracelet of some sort.

“You pulled me all the way out here for a damn bracelet?” you asked, growing frustrated with the boy for the lack of answers you were receiving.

“Just watch, its worth it, I promise.” He said, pulling the gadget onto his wrist. He stepped away from you, aiming his hand at a fire escape that was around three stories high.

“Are you sure this isn’t dangerous, Peter? What if you fall?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. He shot you a smile, before shooting his web at the fire escape. It brought him up effortlessly, and he landed with such grace that it seemed like he’d done this a million times over.

You stood there, mouth agape, as the realization dawned on you.

Holy shit, Peter Parker is Spider-man.