#officially mj's tag now thank u very much

[aeternxm]

𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝚒'𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚎.

@astarab1aze

[ptergwen]

hi ma’am, it’s the mj wh*re anon! 🥰 i know last time i requested some jealous/overprotective!mj, but what about “flustered mj who only wanted some coffee but the barista is TOO cute and she doesn’t know what talking or coffee is?” 😩

sugar, cuz you’re sweet

w/c: 1.1k

warnings: peter and ned are annoying, cussing

a/n: i love how that’s what we’re calling you 😭 and this is adorable thank you <3

-

michelle jones is the most honest, real, never afraid to speak her mind type girl in all of new york city. she knows it. everyone does. don’t get into a debate with her because you’ll lose, no matter the subject. she never concludes an interaction without a few snide remarks. they’re smarter than whatever you had to say.

the point is, mj is unapologetically herself in every situation and at all times. or so she thought.

peter and ned are making her order their coffees. they’re supposed to take turns, peter being all about equality in the group and the golden rule and blah blah blah. it reminds mj very much of somebody’s kindergarten teacher. she’s always found a way out of ordering because she’s mj. clever, persuasive mj. she can talk her way out of anything.

except for today when peter catches on. her excuse was lame. “i need to put down my backpack.” but, hey. you try fooling the only two people smarter than her. you’ll run out of ideas eventually. peter is pouty as he tells her that, “mj, it’s not fair! you haven’t gone up one time. how would you like it if-“ she has to interrupt him before she gets a speech.

“alright, alright, mother teresa. i’ll get the freaking drinks,” mj groans and kicks her chair back. peter smiles smugly, ned giving him a pat on the shoulder. “thanks. do you know what we want?” she blows at a piece of hair covering her eye. “you losers get the same things every time.” not bothering to push in her chair, she slumps over to the line.

ned yells, “don’t forget the whipped cream!” at her. that makes mj let out the longest sigh of her life. she very rarely does favors for other people. if you’re lucky enough to be one of them, it means she really loves you... or whatever.

mj waits on line while peter and ned get into a discussion about their nerd movies. her turn is next at least. she’s all prepared to grumble the order at the poor cashier, then you call her up.

“i can help whoever’s next,” you chirp, leaning over to see the group. your eyes land on mj. with a grin, you nod at her. the permanent scowl on her lips disappears. she takes a few steps up to you, feeling small even though she’s far from it. she finds herself thinking fuck, she’s pretty as you point at her torso.

“wait, i love your shirt,” you compliment and sound completely genuine about it. it’s mj’s favorite, her joan of arc one. a hint of a smile graces her face. “thanks.” her voice comes out much quieter than she intended it to. she didn’t know she was capable of being so... shy.

you tilt your head to the side and look down at the register. you’re still smiling. “no problem. what can i get you?” mj doesn’t hear a word you say. she’s entirely captivated by you, whoever you are. she notices pins with band logos on your shirt, ones she listens to. the probably homemade jewelry around your wrists. most importantly, your name tag. she’ll remember it.

mj doesn’t do the whole crush thing, not really. you just seem so chill and like you’d have a lot in common. also, you’re so pretty.

“do you know what you want?” you tap your nails against the register buttons. “i can suggest something, if that’s cool.” “um, i think so. the... the...” she can’t for the life of her remember what the hell peter and ned wanted. her face falls at that. sensing her nerves, you start punching things in on the register.

“i’ll surprise you. i’m good with those.” mj notices the corners of your lips turn up slightly. into a smirk. are you flirting? “ah, thank you. i’m, uh, not sure why i’m being so weird,” she laughs out. she’s very sure why. “you’re fine,” you snicker back and look up at her again. “just one drink?” “three,” mj quickly replies.

she rocks back and forth on her feet, you finishing up the order. “they’re on the house, by the way. they should be done soon,” you shrug the statement off. ok, you’re definitely flirting. “woah, thank you. can i give you a tip?” mj tucks the same piece of hair from earlier behind her ear. your eyes lock with her sparkling ones.

“nah, you don’t need to. just your name.” you’ve been waiting to get to this part. she’s not far behind you. “mj,” she speaks with the most certainty since you two began talking. “mj,” you murmur to yourself and punch it in. “you’re all good, mj. enjoy your drinks.” you give her a final heart racing smile. she really doesn’t want to go yet, but she has no choice.

returning the smile, mj waves at you. “bye.” she leaves the counter then, and you watch her go before calling up the next customer.

the drinks are done about five minutes later. mj has never been so excited to chug down a random liquid. that reminds her, she has no idea what you chose.

for the other two drinks, you made them your most popular. they’re larges, too. you decided on a plain black coffee with an obscene amount of sugar packets for mj. there’s actually a good reason behind it. you felt like she’s into the classics, and you aren’t wrong one bit. you left a note for her on the side of the cup.

‘lots of sugar, cuz you’re sweet ;) lol i’m bad at this but i liked talking to u, come back soon!’

mj giggles, literally giggles as she reads what you wrote. she should’ve ordered here a long ass time ago.

she’s in her happy place when she brings the tray back to the table, ned pursing his lips at her. “what’s with the face?” he comments on her dazed out look. peter is about to complain that she got their drinks wrong, but mj answers first. “the barista, she was cute and gave me the drinks for free. i think i like her.” she bites her lip to hold back yet another smile.

peter happily pulls one of the drinks from the tray, no longer concerned with its content. it’s not often mj is like this. he’ll bug her another time. “that’s awesome, mj. did you get her name?” he opens up one of the straws mj throws on the table. “y/n,” she sighs out in content. ned’s eyes go wide. “dude, y/n? she asked about you last time.”

and he didn’t think to tell her that? the part she mainly focuses on though, is that you noticed her. you wanted to meet her. this could actually go somewhere.

“you know what?” mj looks between peter and ned while ripping open one of her many sugar packets. “i’ll be the official drink orderer from now on.”

[aftermay]

reds and blues and other hues || pt. 4

+ in which all things are suddenly right within the world. eventually.

epilogue !!!! i’m speechless, still, at how much everyone has loved this & at all ur kind words. i am constantly blown away and i’m very honored! thank u all, so very much.

tags are at the bottom! send me an ask/message if you’d like to be added to the list. word count: 3391

Screw the universe. It really does hate you.

The first thing you do is lock your window and shut the newly-added blinds over it. Well, not technically true; the first thing you do is get the hell out of Dodge—Dodge being the apartment of one Peter Parker. Peter Parker, who just so happens to be the masked red-and-blue vigilante half-Avenger superhero thing who goes by the name of Spider-Man.

Oh, and he’s also your soulmate. Because the universe sucks. And you hate it.

So the technically second thing you do is lock your window and shut your blinds. If Spider-Man—if Peter—appeared at your window tonight, would you let him in? If he knocked? If you could hear him speak outside of it?

If you could go back to before tonight, before you found out, would you?

Does Peter even know by now? You check your phone. It’s been about half an hour since you left his apartment. Maybe he came out of his room after cleaning it, expecting to see you sitting on the floor with your pizza, waiting for him to come and sit next to you. Maybe he saw Ned’s horrified expression and MJ’s pitying one and maybe he had to ask why you weren’t there. Or maybe he already knew.

Suddenly your curiosity is replaced by anger. Peter knew. Peter has known since the moment he met you. Peter knew before he officially met you. And he’s spent the whole month spending time with you as Peter Parker and as Spider-Man, while you’ve been sitting around worrying about how you’ve been falling for the doe-eyed, chestnut-haired dork despite him not being your soulmate.

Except he is your soulmate. And you’ve known him this whole time.

Then you remember: you promised Spider-Man you wouldn’t ask his identity. And he would tell you when he was ready. You had made your peace with that. You knew that the minute Spider-Man revealed himself to you, you would recognize him.

You just...didn’t think it would be Peter underneath that mask. Maybe things would be different if you hadn’t become so close with him. If you hadn’t developed feelings for him. Because now, with this new revelation, you’re really having a hard time trying to remember that Peter Parker and Spider-Man are the same person.

Then your phone rings.

For a split, terrifying second, you think it’s Peter, and you almost don’t even reach for it to confirm. But you know you should, because if it isn’t Peter, you’ll probably answer it. And sure enough, when you turn your phone over to look at the screen, Peter’s face isn’t the image you see. It’s your best friend’s.

You could cry with relief. You accept her FaceTime call and lean back against the wall, propping your arm on your knee as you hold the phone up to your face. “Hey,” you say, letting out a breath. You didn’t realize you were holding one.

“Hey!” she greets, in a mood that’s the cheeriest she’s been in a while. But she soon catches glimpse of your expression and her smile immediately falls. “What’s wrong?”

“You know how you thought I had a crush on Peter?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I do.”

Your best friend’s eyes soften. “Oh, (Y/N),” she says. “What happened? Did you tell him? Did you tell Spider-Man?”

And you start to tell her, but you bite your lip before you can even say a word. Peter’s secret is still his secret. And sure, most of the time it’s “don’t tell anyone” be damned, because (Y/BFF/N) is your best friend and you tell each other everything. But this feels different. Now that you know. Even if you’re still upset that Peter never told you, you can’t break his trust like that. Not until he says it’s okay for you to tell her.

“I found out who Spider-Man is.” you say next, and you watch as her eyes widen as large as they possibly can. “And I...I like them both seperately. And I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m sorry.” your best friend says honestly. She doesn’t ask about Spider-Man’s identity. You love her all the more for it. “I’m so sorry. Whoever Spider-Man is, do you know him in person pretty well?”

“Unfortunately.”

She exhales. “I’m so sorry. I can’t even begin to understand what’s on your mind right now. I wish I…(Y/N), what are you going to do?”

“I have no idea. I just found out.”

“When did you find out?”

“Um, about half an hour ago?”

Your best friend looks shocked. “Wow. Oh, my gosh.”

“I came straight home.” you add. “I didn’t say anything. I don’t even know if he knows I know. He might show up at my window tonight.”

“Are you going to let him in?”

And that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? Are you? You want to talk about it with Spider-Man/Peter. You have to. Eventually. But you don’t think you’re really ready to deal with all of that tonight.

“No,” you say. “Not tonight.” At any rate, you have Peter’s phone number. He can call you. You could text him and tell him not to come tonight, even, if you wanted. “I think tonight I just need a night to calm down and collect my thoughts about what just happened.”

“I could come over.” your best friend offers. “I’d be there in an hour. We can make popcorn and watch Star Wars.”

It’d be a nice idea in any other situation, but Star Wars only makes you think about Spider-Man and Peter both at the same time and the pair of them—the one, because they’re the same—are starting to give you a headache. “I appreciate it, (Y/BFF/N),” you say. “But I think I’d rather be alone tonight. If you’re free tomorrow, though, my entire day is open.”

Ah, yes. Because of course this whole debacle had to happen on a Friday night. Of course, you’re also kind of relieved; it means you don’t have to see Peter tomorrow morning on the train. “Sure,” says your best friend, smiling. “I’d love to come up and hang out. We can make a girls’ day out of it, just you and me.”

“Actually—why don’t I come up there?” you say, before she can say anything else. “I haven’t been back to Manhattan since I moved here. I’ll take the train in.”

She looks a little surprised for a minute. Then her smile widens. “Okay, perfect. You’ll text me when you’re on your way, then?”

“I will.” you promise. “See you tomorrow.”

Your best friend hangs up. You shift on your bed, leaning over to grab your phone charger to plug your phone in. It’s been a long night; looking at the time on your phone, though, you realize it’s not even late, but you feel tired anyway. It’s probably just time to call it a night instead of sit and run the events of the night over and over in your head.

So you do. You change into your pyjamas, brush your teeth, and climb into your bed, checking your phone one last time to see if you have any notifications, but there are none. You’re unsure if you’re relieved or disappointed. You lock your phone, place it on the table beside your bed, and then roll onto your side, facing the wall, and you close your eyes.

Spider-Man does not visit that night.

--

You get to Manhattan around ten in the morning. It immediately feels more familiar than Queens does, and as you get off of the train at the correct stop and make your way to your best friend’s house, you see one building that sticks out above the rest.

You’ve seen it for years. It’s Tony Stark’s tower—or at least, it used to be, because Tony Stark sold it two years ago. But the exterior of the building is the same; it used to be the base for the Avengers. Peter is an Avenger. You tear your eyes away from it and keep moving. Today is supposed to be a day to get your mind off of your soulmate, not to constantly find things that remind you of him.

Standing outside on the sidewalk in front of her apartment complex is your best friend. She waves the moment she spots you, and when you’re within arm’s length she pulls you in for a hug. “Hey, loser,” she greets affectionately. “Long time no see, huh?”

“It’s been too long.” you agree. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, of course.” she laces her arm through yours. “Let’s get some coffee, shall we?”

It’s a staple of yours; the two of you would either hang out at your place, hers, or the coffee shop that’s almost exactly halfway between. So it’s that very coffee shop that the pair of you walk to, and you sit at the very same table you always do, and for a very short amount of time, you can pretend like you never left Manhattan at all. And it’s nice.

The small voice in the back of your mind asks: Do you really wish you’d never moved to Queens?

The answer is no, and you know that. You love your life in Queens. And, even though you’re still a little upset and things still feel complicated, you’re glad that Peter Parker is your soulmate. Out of all of the people your soulmate could have been, you’re really, really glad it’s Peter.

“Stop that.” your best friend warns, setting a cup of coffee in front of you. “I know you’re thinking about him.”

“I can’t help it.” you complain. The look she gives you tells you that you can help it, but you’re choosing not to.

“You just need a break. Isn’t that what you said yourself?” she points out. “All your soulmate issues will still be there in a couple of hours. For now, though, I want you to turn off your phone and give yourself a break.”

Reluctantly, you pull your phone out from your pocket and turn it off. The screen goes black, but it doesn’t really make you feel any better. You put it in your purse and set it aside, looking back up at your best friend as she sips her coffee thoughtfully. “Happy?”

She grins. “Very.”

--

So the only thing you don’t talk about with your best friend is Peter or Spider-Man. In fact, she rarely brings up Queens at all. Only to ask you about how your parents are doing, or when your first official break of the year is. The pair of you stay at the coffee shop until around three, when the rain outside ruins your plan to spend the rest of the day outside. But it’s the rain that sobers your happy mood, and before long you find yourself deciding that you’re just going to take the train home early.

“Are you sure?” your best friend says, frowning at you in concern. “We could watch a movie or play a card game or something inside until the rain blows over.”

“I’d love to,” you admit. “But I also have homework I should focus on. And don’t think I didn’t notice your phone repeatedly going off since we sat down.”

Your best friend has the decency to smile sheepishly. It’s true; her phone was buzzing almost the entire time they’ve been inside the coffee shop, but not once had she picked it up. “I’m sorry,” she says, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “I really am. I told—”

“It’s okay!” you say quickly, before she can get too worked up about her own soulmate. “Really. I don’t mind at all.”

She blinks. “You don’t?”

“No.” you promise. “Go spend time with your soulmate, (Y/BFF/N). There should be a train arriving in ten minutes, anyway.”

“Fine,” she says, sounding reluctant, but the grin on her face says otherwise. “Be safe, make good choices. Text me when you’re at your house, okay?”

“I will.” you assure her. The two of you hug after you stand up from your seat, and when you leave the shop you part ways: your best friend back towards her apartment, and you towards the train station.

The ride back to Queens gives you plenty of time to think. Mostly about Peter Parker and Spider-Man, who, last you checked, are the same person. You’re still not really sure if that’s unfortunate or not.

It’s still pouring when you get off the train stop nearest your apartment. You didn’t bring an umbrella, or a sweatshirt with a hoodie, so you’re stuck to walk the couple of blocks quickly with your hands over your head, as if that would make you any drier. By the time you reach your bedroom, around ten minutes later, you’re drenched through your clothes and you’re shivering, just a little bit. Thankfully, you’ve just done your laundry, so clean, dry clothes are waiting for you on your bed when you enter your bedroom.

After you change, throwing your wet clothes into the hamper, you cross the room to the window. You love rain in instances like this, when you’re inside, the rain is outside, and you have no cause to go outside whatsoever. You pull up your blinds, expecting to see the rain falling in the alley between your window and the next building over.

That’s not what you see.

Well, it is, but a certain hero clad in red-and-blue-spandex is blocking most of the view.

Spider-Man is perched out on the fire escape, hand raised in a fist like he’s about to knock at your window. He probably just was. When he sees you, though, his eyes widen, and he scrambles back, throwing his arms out to catch himself as he leans away from the window.

Then he waves.

You forget momentarily that it’s Peter underneath that mask until the moment Spider-Man waves. You can see Peter within Spider-Man now, without even seeing his face. And part of you wonders how the hell you’d missed it before—the voice, the mannerisms...everything about Spider-Man just screams Peter to you now. And it kind of makes your heart hurt.

Then Spider-Man does something that makes your heart stop.

Still looking right at you from the other side of the window, Peter places his left hand on the glass, and uses his right hand to pull the Spider-Man mask off of his head.

Your mouth falls open. Quickly, you bend down to pull the window open, grabbing the front of Peter’s suit to yank him into your room. “What are you doing!?” you demand, as he topples over your windowsill and promptly lands on the carpet. “It’s the middle of the day! Someone could see you—”

“I don’t care.” Peter insists, standing up, still holding the Spider-Man mask in his right hand. You shut your blinds as quickly as you can. “I had to see you. I have to know if you’re angry with me. Because I really like you and I don’t think I could take it if you’re angry with me.”

He’s watching you carefully when you turn back to him. His chestnut-colored hair is plastered to his forehead, wet from the rain. It occurs to you that you don’t really know how long he’d been out there. Maybe he’d been there before you even got home.

“I’m…” The words catch in your throat. Peter takes a step back, looking down at the mask in his hands, like he already knows what you’re going to say and he doesn’t want you to see his expression. But starting at him, right now, you realize the answer he’s expecting isn’t the one you have for him. You’re not angry. Not anymore. “Not. Angry,” you say slowly.

Peter looks right at you in disbelief. “You’re not?”

“No.” you sit down on your bed. “I mean—the first time I met Spider-Man—you—I knew I wasn’t going to learn your identity for a while. And I knew that I would recognize you. Obviously, I didn’t know that the man behind the mask was going to be you, but…I’m relieved, that it is you.”

“You—are?”

“Sure. Of course I am.”

“I…” Peter exhales, folding the mask in his hands. “If I’d known you liked me—like, really me, as Peter, I would have told you who I was right away, (Y/N). I didn’t mean to do that to you. I hadn’t even noticed. Ned and MJ both had to spell it out to me. I just...I never thought you would like Peter Parker, if you found out Spider-Man was me.”

He looks very small, standing in the middle of your bedroom, with his shoulders hunched as he looks down at the mask in his hands. It’s very easy to associate the image in front of you with Peter Parker. But not Spider-Man. Spider-Man...well, to you, he seemed to be everything Peter wasn’t. I never thought you would like Peter Parker, Peter just said. But somehow he’d known that you would like Spider-Man.

“Actually,” you say softly, taking a step toward him. “I think I like Peter Parker more than I like Spider-Man.”

Peter’s eyes widen. Then he blushes, reaching up to rub the back of his neck with a gloved hand. “Well,” he says, clearing his throat. “I—I guess that’s a good thing.”

You smile. “Is it?”

“Uh, yeah. When I was Spider-Man, here, talking to you, and you’d get—I don’t know, distant? I could always tell when you were thinking about something else.” Peter admits. “I thought you were thinking about a different guy, or something.”

“I thought I technically was.”

Peter smiles slightly. “Yeah. I guess so. Nice to know that if my soulmate’s cheating on me, at least it’s with me.”

And it sounds so ridiculous that you laugh out loud. Peter does, too, after a moment, grinning as he stands in front of you. Somehow, you end up stepping forward, holding his arms as the two of you still laugh at something that wasn’t even that funny in the first place.

When the laughter dies down, you’re inches from Peter. You could kiss him, if you wanted. This is the third time you’ve been this close to your soulmate, and this time, your heart feels like it’s melting in your chest. You really, really like him. “I can’t believe you didn’t think I would fall for you as Peter.” you say softly, looking up at him. Something else registers in your brain. “Is—is that why you didn’t tell me? Who you were?”

“No!” Peter assured you. “No—I really do want to protect you. Maybe that was part of it, but all I really want is to keep you safe.” he hesitates for a minute, studying your expression before carefully adding, “And, uh, to be with you. To protect you and to be with you.”

Tentatively, you reach up to brush his wet hair away from his forehead. You don’t miss the way his eyes flutter, leaning into your touch on the side of his head. “I want to be with you, too,” you say, keeping your voice quiet.

Peter beams. Actually beams at you, looking like the physical embodiment of sunshine with the amount of happiness in his eyes and on his face. His happiness feels so contagious that you can’t help but smile back. This is your soulmate. The person you’ve been wanting to meet since you knew what a soulmate was is standing right in front of you, holding you, grinning at you like you’re his entire world. And he’s yours.

“Can I—uh—?” Peter shakes his head, letting out another laugh as he cradles your face in his hands, tucking loose, wet strands of your hair behind both of your ears. “Can I kiss you?”

And he asks. Gosh, you really adore this boy.

“Yes,” you breathe. His chocolate-colored eyes shine and make your grin widen. Then he bends down and captures your lips in a kiss.

It’s safe to say that it’s the best kiss you’ve ever had.

(It should be noted that it’s also the only kiss you’ve ever had, and that this is also the first of many, many kisses you will share with Peter Parker. But it’s always going to be the best nonetheless.)