#spideychelle oneshot

[mj-jones-parker]

Spideychelle oneshots

Mj steals pieces from Peter's lego sets while he's building them just to mess with him

Between classes they always kiss each other in the hallway

They have study dates at least once a week

Peter forces Mj to watch star wars movies with him

While watching star wars movies he talks throughout the whole movie, rambling about facts about the movie and lore

She hates star wars but she agrees to watch them because she finds his rambling throughout the movies adorable but she'd never tell him that

Mj rambles to Peter about true crime and murder mysterys all the time

Mj has multiple sketch books that just have drawings of Peter

Peter is extremely clingy and wants to be held by Mj as much as possible

She pretends to be annoyed with his clingyness and complains about it but she secrecy loves it

Both of their love languages our physical touch, but Mj rarely initiates physical contact

Peter is the little spoon and Mj is the big spoon

He nuzzles his head into her hand non stop until she plays with his hair/massages his head anytime they cuddle

Peter struggles to understand things like tone and body language, so he often copies Mj's tone and body language

Whenever Mj feels any strong emotion (weather it be happiness, nervousness, sadness, ect.) she plays with the necklace Peter gave her, which he finds adorable

They constantly steal each others clothes to the point were they have multiple hoodies and shirts that they have no idea who it actually belongs to

[missamyshay]

Talk Shop Tuesday: have you noticed a difference in the “vibe” when it comes to the two main fandoms you write for? Response, commentary, interaction, even interest in a “type” of fic: how do MCU Spider-Man and the Bear compare? Does it differ from SarahBucky? Others you’ve been in?

Oh, there’s definitely a shifting vibe across fandoms that I find so, so interesting!!

I always say that I’m pleasantly surprised by the love my fics for The Bear have gotten. Mainly because for some reason, I was drawn to writing character studies and building the lore of all the central characters rather than focussing on the main ship. But I’ve found that the people who love that show, really love the show. While, on the other hand, a lot of Spider-Man readers switch off, don’t interact, or straight up express displeasure with fics when they’re not centred around the “main” relationship (PeterMJ, or more specifically ‘Spideychelle’).

I also think that with The Bear fandom, there’s more of a willingness to engage with angst, and grief, and tragedy. And perhaps this just simply speaks to the nature of the audience that’s drawn to a show based on some heavy themes—but to me, so is Spider-Man. So are a lot of superhero stories. This one will always baffle me lol.

Another thing is that generally, perhaps on a more superficial level, I get more compliments that focus on my writing in fics for The Bear. For some reason, there’s so much appreciation for the skill it takes to write and write well. That doesn’t always exist when writing for SM. I will never forget putting my whole writeussy into creating a 20k+ word oneshot, with non-linear narrative, seven povs, character introspection, and several different storylines, only for people to reduce it to ‘this makes no sense because how dare Peter date someone else?’ (on my way you will always be famous!)

With The Bear and also to an extent with SarahBucky, they’re relatively small, recent fandoms, and there’s more of a sense of ‘we’re all lucky to be in this space where there are people creating’, whereas I think because Spider-Man in general is a ‘bigger’ fandom and has been around for a long time, there’s almost an air of entitlement at times. There is also a ‘ghosts of writers past’ type of thing that I think lingers over me a lot.

I’ve just realised that this might come across like I’m shitting on SM fandom and I promise I’m not!! That’s my baby! My home!! And there are things there that are different too. I doubt I could get away with writing a 200k word fic in another fandom like I did in SM lmao. With SM readers there’s a willingness to immerse oneself in a world and stay there, and I really love that. There’s an appreciation for world building, and people tend to hold the fics that they love really close to their hearts which I think is awesome.

Talk Shop Tuesday

[diana-bookfairchild]

are there any themes, motifs, phrases, symbols, narrative devices or anything else that come up multiple times in different stories you've written? what are they, and why do you think they recur in your work?

Ooh, interesting question!

Honestly, I don't think I've written enough to actually determine if something is a trend in my stories but I do think I focus on somethings more than others.

For instance, I tend to prefer platonic relationships over romantic. I suppose it's because I have zero interest in romantic relationships myself - and therefore even if I like Hinny, or Percabeth or Arwen and Freylin or Spideychelle I prioritize Golden Trio, Seven friendship, Merlin and Arthur friendship and Peter and Ned friendship when I write or read.

Another thing that recurs is grief and other emotions and how they affect people physically. My fics tend to be oneshots and focus a lot on characters and their introspections and relationships rather than plot - and the only even vaguely plotty stuff I have is all incomplete, so. . .

Emotions are visceral, and I like exploring that. How they twist people's stomachs, drop their hearts, make their hands tremble. It may be a tad morbid but I really like writing stuff like that - for Sirius his panic about his best friends feels like a fire, because I thought it would suit him. He deals with his concerns otherwise in a kind of over-it monologue and drinking. For Lee, charming, cocky Lee, years after the loss, I wrote it as a meditative pause, an old sadness that flares up occasionally as an irritation. For Arthur in my Merlin WIP, grief is uncertainty and dread and numbness. For Beth in my Queen's Gambit oneshot, she visualizes her emotions as ice crystallizing her insides.

If this person gets happy news do they scream in joy, clutch their chest or gasp silently and daintily with a hand to their mouth? When they grieve do they rage or weep or collapse or throw things? Is how they perceive love calm and peace, or a burning fire and passion?

Most of my fics tend to be long thought processes, typically about their relationships and emotions. It's why I don't mind writing either canon compliant or canon divergent, because writing emotions and relationships in any scenario is fascinating. I suppose it's because I like to organize emotions properly and having my characters do that makes it cathartic. I love, love LOVE platonic relationships, so characters monologue (in their thoughts, at least) about it all the time - see Ron in Blood of the Covenant about Harry and Hermione and Ginny, Arthur about Merlin in ... pretty much all the fics I've written about them, Sirius about Jily and Harry, Golden Trio about one another in Legends Never Die, Ginny about Harry and her family in no one else's eyes that could see into me, Percy about everyone in Limit of Pain, Peter about Ned, May, Tony and Shuri in those who have never sought it.

Then there's the fact that I like outsider povs. Harry is my favourite character in Harry Potter - and my fics about him are from Ginny, Hermione and Ron's PoVs, so that I can wax lyrical about how awesome I think he is without him sounding ridiculously OOC.

Doubt this was what you were looking for, but I can't really think of anything else off the top of my head. If you have anything specific that you want a reason for, feel free!

[you-guys--are-losers]

1 and 13 (and 5 /if/ you can think of something, if not that's ok!) having a daily serving of angst keeps the heart wistful

//Ooh girly, you hittin me with that angst! I love it. ;) But you also asked for it! Wasn’t able to fit five in, but I like how this turned out! It’s based on this FFH fan theory. ;)

1: “ Give me a chance. ”

13: “ Don’t leave me… ”

Scattering Rosebuds

“MJ, wait!”

Peter’s plea carries through the hotel lobby, loud enough to turn heads as he rushes after her form. Her skirts swish furiously as she walks away from him, but just for a moment, her step falters. That moment is enough to propel him forward through the busy lobby, a few feet closer to her than he was before. Peter narrowly dodges a luggage cart and ignores the cursing that his super senses zero in on, forging his way forward. Maybe if he says her name just one last time…

People are staring now, and MJ stops dead in her tracks a few feet ahead of him. Peter stops, too, but his gaze does not leave the messy ponytail that he’s observed for years in his classes, the one that belongs to the most intelligent person Peter has ever met. It’s the one that he spent the entire bus ride watching, the one he was finally brave enough to approach. It’s the mess of curls that bobbed as she looked up from her poetry, that framed her face and the reddened tips of her ears as she said yes.

“Please, MJ!”

For a moment, she does not move. Peter watches as the tall, slender form crosses her arms, tugging her jacket tighter around herself like some sort of security blanket. Then, just when Peter thinks that she’s going to start walking again, MJ turns around. 

The look on her face is enough to send a physically painful twinge through Peter’s chest. Her face is stony, a mask of glassy eyes and faraway stares. She does not look at him, but rather at a point past his ear and over his shoulder. Maybe, a few months ago, Peter would have wondered if this was her using some sort of intimidation tactic.

Now, he knows that she’s not looking at him because she thinks she’ll fall apart if she does. 

“What do you want?” she asks. Her voice is quiet and taut, as impassive as her face. However, there is a slight, almost imperceptible waver as she says his last name, one that causes him to wince. 

“I-I…” Peter stammers, suddenly unable to string two words together. “I, um… I didn’t think I’d get this far with you.” 

“Goodnight, Parker.” 

MJ has turned by the time his words leave in a strangled gasp. “N-no, wait!” She freezes, but she does not turn away. Part of Peter wonders if she wants him to give her a reason to stay. 

Peter stops trying to gather all of his thoughts at once, and instead he focuses all of his energy on taking a first step in the right direction. “Can we talk?” 

Her shoulders stiffen, and she squares them in a moment of dreadful silence. Finally, she mutters, “Fine.” Then she is walking again, and all Peter has left to do is to follow. 

MJ continues down the hall of the hotel, away from prying eyes and listening ears. She follows the twist and turn of the hallways until Peter’s senses focus in on the scent of chlorine… The pool. Sure enough, the glass doors come into view, and through them Peter can see the tiled floor and the deep blue of the pool. 

They had planned to go for a swim with the others that night… But that was before it all happened. That was before Peter’s first run-in with Chameleon, before Peter had willingly followed him to the bridge, straight into an ambush. But he hadn’t known he was following Chameleon. 

He had thought he was following her, this girl that he somehow knows that he would follow to the ends of the earth. 

When they reach the doors of the pool, she turns so abruptly that Peter almost runs straight into her. He leaps back, struggling to catch his breath as he finds himself little more than inches away from her. She is looking down at him, and for the first time he realizes what is so off about her stony gaze. No matter how hard she tries, she can’t hide the little, hurting gleam that reflects in her warm irises now. 

Peter struggles for words as he looks up at her, overwhelmed by the scent of chlorine mingling with her citrus shampoo. Where should he begin? Should he start with the colorful array of bruises blossoming beneath his clothing, the cut on his arm that he knows will bleed through his shirt if he doesn’t tend to it soon? Or maybe with the Internship, with the Spider-Man. Maybe if he confides in her, shows this one little piece of trust, she’ll understand. Maybe she can even help him puzzle through it all, to understand the new information that’s spinning in his head at this very moment. But he doesn’t get to start anywhere, because she starts first. 

“You stood me up, Parker.” The words drop like hammers, each one heavier than the last. They are tight, constricted, leaving no room for emotion. Somehow, it’s worse than if she was screaming.

MJ still doesn’t look at him as she continues. “I mean, I guess I get it. I’m not your type. You fall for girls like Liz, girls who are gorgeous and sweet and all honey and sugar. Those types of girls don’t get left alone, in the middle of a damn carnival. I get I’m not your type, and I was fine with it. At least I thought I was.” 

Peter’s eyes widen, and for a moment he is staring at her, shell-shocked. Then his mind screams at him to say something, anything. “I-What? N-no, MJ, it’s not like that at all! You’re definitely my type, you’re… You’re incredible! I didn’t mean to stand you up, MJ, I-” 

“I don’t need excuses anymore. I’m not what you ever planned on, and I get it. You don’t need to deny it.” Her words are final, and when she finally meets his eye, he draws in a sharp breath. The brown eyes that are locked on his are so soulful, filled with experiences and pains that he wants to understand. They are also filled with hurt, raw and rough and real in so many ways. 

“MJ… I’m not trying to make excuses, I’m trying to explain myself,” he whispers, his voice aching in the back of his throat. “I just need you to give me a chance.”

“Parker, I’ve waited… Way longer than I ever wanted to admit to you.” Her brow is furrowed now, knit over those injured eyes in a way that reminds him of the way she looks at her book. It’s a look of trying, of attempting to understand and explain and connect all at once. “I’ve waited years for this, and I think a part of you knows that. I think a part of you thinks that a little more waiting won’t hurt me, that I have the time to wait around for you to be as serious about this as I am. And maybe I have the time, but I’m not willing to spend it.” 

Her final statement causes her voice to break, a ragged and broken sound that forces any thought of explanation and reparation from his mind. All he can think about is the way that he put that there, the crack in the girl that has always seemed so unbreakable to him.

 And now, part of him wonders if she’s just as right as she is broken.

For a moment, the silence stretches between them, and she draws in a breath and looks away. It’s as if he’s confirming it. “I was there… By myself, Parker. I was waiting for you.” 

“I know.” 

“And you didn’t come.” “

I… I know.” 

The silence lingers for another moment, a moment in which she steps away from him. Finally, she raises her gaze to his again. Somehow, this is more painful than her previous hurt stare, because it’s reserved. He is watching as she builds her walls again, the ones he had to work so hard to tear down. 

“Maybe I have the time to spend on you, Peter. But that doesn’t mean you get to spend it for me.” 

With that, MJ turns, and she brushes past him. Her lemon shampoo overwhelms his senses, and her hand brushes his in a way that makes his heart ache. A pang of desperation shoots through him, and he quickly turns to catch her wrist in a light grasp. 

“Wait… Please. Don’t leave me.” 

His words don’t sound like his own. They are breathy and slightly wobbly, and each syllable feels like a knife in the back of his throat. “I need you to let me explain.” For a moment, she pauses, and he drinks in their proximity. 

He is inches from her neck, from the soft place where her ringlets meet smooth skin. It’s a place that he can imagine brushing with a gentle hand, maybe even pressing a kiss. He had that chance, only a few hours ago… A chance to explore her mind and her company. And now, it’s inches away from being another thing that Spider-Man has stolen from him. 

Unless she chooses to stay. 

“‘Gather ye rosebuds,’ remember?” His words are a plea, one last question. It’s a line from the poem she was reading on the school tour bus, the one he asked about before she agreed to meet him at the carnival. It’s the reason she took a chance, and now he needs her to take another one. 

Her breath catches in her throat, and for a moment Peter thinks she is going to look at him. Then, she slowly turns her head away from him. “Sorry, Parker,” she murmurs, tugging her wrist back from him. He lets it slide through his fingers as a dazed breath escapes him. Peter can feel every last ounce of hope crumble, each one toppled by one of her syllables. 

“But I think maybe it’s time to scatter them.” 

Taglist: @one-way-ride @theadorablespderman @awkward-midday-pigeon @generousbananaduckdiplomat @booksarelife-stuff @obviously11

[elenarodriiguez]

day twenty: perfume | m.j. & p.p.

pairing: michelle “mj” jones x peter parker

word count: 273

When Peter walks into the donut shop early one morning in what would have been his junior year summer break, he notices that MJ smells different now. His spidey senses are a pain at the best of times, getting migraines from going to the supermarket, hearing everything in a ten block radius, but now, they’re his worst enemy.

She’s changed perfumes in the almost three years since he’s last seen her, which he supposes makes sense, people grow and change and most twenty one year olds aren’t entirely self-reliant and unable to afford the necessities. Back in high school she wore a softly scented perfume, initially unknowing of Peter’s heightened senses but when they got together it became an active choice of hers.

Now she smells of strawberries, not a bad scent but stronger and different, and it reminds him all too well that he would never get his old life back, never see MJ look at him with love in her eyes like she used to.

Determined to get in and out of there as quickly as possible, he orders a black coffee and their cheapest donut from the girl on shift, MJ and Ned sitting on the stools and catching up at the counter, not letting his eyes drift away from his phone in fear of coming across as a creep.

The girl hands him his beverage and food, and Peter turns tail, speeding out of the store like he has somewhere important to be instead of briefly sleeping off a thirteen hour shift, but not before he hears MJ say to Ned “Hey, isn't that that Peter Parker guy? Weird.”

[mxacegrey]

A female peter parker idea Penny is laying on the couch with mj. mj is asleep with her head on penny's chest right over her heart penny's watching a movie but more focused on mj because penny saved Michelle from being abused by her father and now Michelle lives with Tony who walks in to see penny protecting her girlfriend hes about to take a picture when Steve comes in and starts mouthing off about the girls penny webs his mouth shut but not before mj is woken up by Steve's loud voice

God that is good. Thinking how Steve just blows up with his ww2 homophobic language and maybe even say that MJ needed to be punished by her dad for her sexuality.

My stories will be updated after around the 24th of May. So watch out for it!!

[ptergwen]

she went back for him

[michellesbohh]

Michelle Jones is soFT, okay?

Hello fine citizens. 

I’m over here like “work on your WIPs” and my brain says, “You mean start a completely unrelated oneshot?”and I say “Well no, but I do like where this is going so let’s finish this now instead.” 

My brain? “Abandon all structure and write a head canon? Got it.”

I don’t know why this is my take, but I just feel like MJ is (at least at first) fully annoyed with herself and how much she loves Peter Parker’s stupid dumb face. 

Not that she tries to hide it (she doesn’t) but it’s like a slight sense of resigned submission. 

Peter is as sweet and accommodating as he ever was and sometimes when he just looks at her (how dare) she just...can’t

With his dumb boy eyes practically sparkling at her across the lab in chemistry, MJ is finished.

And it’s worse because Peter knows about this now.

In the beginning he’d thought dating MJ would be just like being friends with MJ but 

Oh boy

He was so wrong. 

Being friends with MJ made his heart feel like it was trying to jump out of his chest just to get to her

So she would see him for real and maybe let him in?

But he could never tell exactly what she was feeling and really he still can’t. 

He would never claim to know everything about someone like MJ

Now that they’re dating though, Peter sees the little tells that only a boyfriend could. 

He knows what face she makes when he’s done something impossibly good and she struck by it. 

He’s intimately familiar with what Michelle looks like when she wants to kiss him but can’t 

MJ for her part has given up trying to pretend that she’s not completely on her ass for this boy all the time but that doesn’t mean she’s going to take this lying down!

Well...actually...

Whatever.

Coming to the realization that she was attracted to Peter Parker was indeed a shock

She reeled over it for several days initially at just the idea of being someone that got to kiss him and that he wanted to kiss back like WHAT

Once they actually crossed that line, MJ began to notice just how attracted to Peter she really was. And not even only in that way. She just wants to be close to him like...often. 

And okay, she’s seen his abs so it’s definitely 100% also in that way but we’re being soft rn

And she kind of hates it even if she doesn’t do anything to deny it. 

She’ll be standing at her locker and Peter will sometimes meet her there in the morning before homeroom

On some days his hands will slide around her hips and she’ll debate whether the risk of getting a detention is enough of a deterrent if it means she can also maybe just make out with Peter Parker right now now now.

She’s gotten 3 detentions so far. 

But sometimes he’ll just pop up next to her grinning and holding out a cup of tea that he picked up for her and she can actually feel her heart squeezing

She gets that familiar strained look on her face and graciously, Peter is not smug

But he’s not not smug, you know? 

They’ll make small talk about little things and big things until she’s done packing her books

Once she’s ready Peter hands her the tea, stepping just a little further into her personal space to kiss her cheek quickly and tell her he’ll see her at lunch

It’s the hand he presses at the small of her back as he leaves her that does her in

The touch is fleeting and gentle and it’s honestly completely innocent in motivation on Peter’s part but she thinks that might be why it gets to her

As soon as he’s gone, she fits a glare on anyone in the hall who’d been watching and dared to let her catch them.

One time, Flash even looked her in the eyes after. Her reputation simply will not survive this.

Peter sits next to her at lunch and holds her hand under the table too

She fights the urge to lay her head against his and snuggle against him like they do on movie nights because fuck she is so soft for him but she has some dignity

MJ does not feel bad however when she finds him outside the cafeteria though and drags him off to the library for the free period they share

They hole up in one of the study rooms and it’s #over when Peter hands her a pink highlighter as she’s fruitlessly looking through her own bag for one

(”I always pack an extra because you always forget yours”)

Fuck him, honestly.

She pulls Peter up by the hand and leads them away from the window in the door for some semblance of privacy

Peter looks like all his christmases have come at once when she leans up against him, trapping him to the wall.

“I-” she huffs unable to find the words to describe the warm fluffy feeling inside her. She figures pressing him into a slow kiss gets the point across pretty well

She pulls away when his hands start to grip at her hips.

MJ nuzzles into his neck, kissing there absentmindedly. Soft little pecks distract her as she allows the feeling of being in his arms to settle her. 

“God, I fucking hate you,” she groans in a whisper as Peter pulls her even closer dropping kisses to her hairline, her forehead, and against her brow

If anyone had overheard, the poorly suppressed grin on Peter’s face would be confusing, but he gets it. 

He gets her and how getting close to people and needing people and being okay with wanting to be treated delicately. To want be cared for. To allow herself to be cared for is hard for MJ

 But she wants it from him. Wants to be that for him. 

And Peter thinks that means he’s luckiest. 

As she pulls back to catch his eye, still shy in the big heavy feelings part of being with Peter, she basks in the smile Peter’s giving her.

His hands come up to tangle into her curls, eyes never wavering and she decides that she might be okay with being an actual ball of floof. 

For Peter, anyways. 

Only for Peter.  

She tells him as much and he laughs and kisses her again, “That’s okay you can totally be just be my floof.”

And when they’re making out on the Parker couch later than afternoon, MJ pretends not to notice that he’s changed her contact in his phone to “Michelle ‘MF’ Jones” with 2 cloud emojis.

He’s so corny, and she kisses him a little longer, a little needier than before after she sees it but doesn’t comment. 

She thinks he knows why anyways.

He definitely does. 

[lovabletomholland]

Peter Parker One Shot Masterlist

Moodboard made by the amazing: @enchantress-supreme​

Here is a list of all my Peter Parker One Shots so far. Enjoy!

Peter’s Perfect Shot

Summary: Peter goes out searching for the perfect picture. Little does he know he’s about to meet the perfect girl.

It’s Just a Game

Summary: Your friend is throwing a party. You are impressed with how they set everything up, however you are not so impressed when they push you into playing spin the bottle. It doesn’t help that you are completely awkward when it comes to situations like this but your eye catches a cute brown-eyed stranger sitting in the circle and you hope you don’t make a fool of yourself.

[caramelcaramelcaramelao3]

One Bed

MJ got off the bus, and breathed in the air. It had that salty smell to ocean towns often did.

After law school, she’d landed a good job, with good benefits. Within six months, she was one of the best lawyers at her firm.

So she decided to treat herself to a little vacation. One week, just herself.

She pulled her luggage along, over the cobbled stone walkway into the hotel, admiring the colourful architecture around her.

Taking one last, deep breath of fresh, ocean air, she headed into the hotel.

She’d picked Vernazza, Italy, for a number of reasons. First, it was a small town. Less touristy than places like Venice. More community. Second, it was coastal. Her hotel had a pool in the back, and the ocean out front. It was beautiful. Second, it was relatively unknown. She didn’t know anybody who’d been to Vernazza, and her rich lawyer coworkers had been everywhere under the sun.

It was the perfect place to get away from everything.

Or so she thought.

Because when she walked into the hotel, Peter Parker was standing at the front desk, checking in.

Old anger flooded through her veins. Things hadn’t ended well, and she’d hoped she’d never see him again.

She stood behind him, waiting for Peter to finish and step aside. When the receptionist waved her up, and Peter was still standing there, her stomach sank. Something was wrong, and she knew she wasn’t going to like it.

“Miss Jones, is it?”

MJ nodded.

“There’s been a bit of a mix-up. We have one room left, and you’re both booked for it.”

MJ snorted. It was funny. Because, what, was she living in a fanfiction? Would her parents sell her to One Direction next?

“That’s not possible,” MJ said, still in denial, “I booked this room months ago.”

“Actually,” the receptionist said, “you called and book June 14th, at 9am precisely-”

“Yeah, I stayed up until two to make that reservation,” MJ interrupted.

The receptionist took a breath. “Well, so did Mr. Parker here. You booked the same room, at the same time, with two different receptionists. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience.”

MJ crossed her arms. “Well, I’m certainly not leaving.”

“That’s okay,” Peter said, “I can find another hotel.”

The receptionist shook her head. “There’s two other hotels here, and they’re all booked up. The Infiorata festival is this weekend. People from surrounding towns come in.”

MJ glared at Peter. “I’m not leaving.”

Peter sighed. “Alright. May I have a room key?”

“Me too,” MJ added.

The receptionist raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing the tension between the two, but gave them each a key.

MJ shot Peter a dirty look as she crossed towards the elevator.

Peter looked at the receptionist. “Sorry about all this.”

“Our fault entirely. Um, tell your roommate that the minibar is on us. As compensation for the mix-up.”

Peter nodded. “Thanks.”

He joined MJ at the elevator.

“Let me be clear,” she said, before he could get a word in, “I do not plan on talking to you, interacting with you, nothing. I only really intend to use the room as a place to sleep.”

The elevator dinged, and they both got in.

“MJ, I still think that if you heard me out-”

“I don’t wanna hear it.”

now up on my second tumblr, and will go up on ao3 during spideychelle week!

[caffeinated-mendes]

Masterlist - March 2020

A slowly-growing masterlist for anyone happening upon my account. All of these are fairly family-friendly, however some do contain swearing. Requests, likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! 

Shawn Mendes

one-shots: 

italy

make me forget 

amethyst 

Wanted 

desolate palaces

series:

bel amour - chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3

Peter Parker

one-shots: 

An Unlucky Pairing 

Cozy Nights

series: 

Failed Mission - Chapter 1

The 100

series: 

Co-Workers - Chapter One

[softboyscully]

every so often somebody finds my abandoned spidychelle oneshots story on watt pad and every time i get an email saying someone’s added it to their reading list or has left comments on it i grin

[imnotobsessedwithhim]

darling we’re all a little splintered and battered

the much requested hurt/comfort fic! (horny teenagers coming soon) 

ao3 link

"You'll never be good enough."

"You couldn't save him."

"Do you really think you can outsmart me?"

"You let him die."

Peter shot up in bed, the sheets a tangled mess at his feet as the image of the zombie Iron suit lingered at the edge of his vision. He fell back on his pillow and tried to slow the gasping breaths escaping him.

Every night the dreams were getting more real, and every night Peter felt the sting of being manipulated and betrayed all over again. This one was worse than the one last night. And the night before.

He felt like he was back in the hallucination - everything so vivid and raw and real.

The more he thought about it, the more he worked himself up, and the more tears sprang in the corner of his eyes.

He reached blindly for his phone on the edge of the nightstand and did the only thing he could think of.

"Hello?"

Just hearing her voice sent a wave of calm over Peter's body. He exhaled shakily.

"Hey-hey MJ, sorry did I wake you?"

"No, I'm up reading. Is everything okay? You sound all pant-y."

Peter tried to slow down his breathing and explain, but the words wouldn't come. Thankfully, MJ could read him without even having to see his face.

"Nightmares?" her voice was soft.

"Yeah."

There was shuffling on the other end of the line.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Okay."

Peter listened to her quiet breathing for a moment, making an effort to match it with his own. "What are you reading?" he asked.

She hummed. "The Poisoner's Handbook: Murder and the Birth of Forensic Medicine in Jazz Age New York by Deborah Blum."

"That sounds...interesting."

"Do you want me to read to you?"

The corners of Peter's mouth pulled up. "Sure."

MJ cleared her throat. "Alright, settle in."

Peter wiggled down and pulled the covers up to his chin, keeping the phone held to one ear. "Mmkay, I'm ready." he mumbled against the pillow.

"'Until the early nineteenth century few tools existed to detect toxic substances in a corpse..'"

Peter didn't know how long he stayed awake listening, but eventually the soft lull of her voice slowed his breathing and let him drift off into sleep.

The next few nights continued like this, Peter calling MJ and her reading whatever strange book she had to him until he fell back asleep. Only the dreams started getting worse.

The one from the night before had been so bad, that Peter was actually afraid to go to sleep again.

Peter innocently asked MJ over to hang out, and thankfully she agreed. Not only that, but she asked to spend the night without any prompting from him- for which he was grateful. He was also grateful for the fact that Aunt May was over at Happy's that night (blegh) so he didn't have to deal with any 'open door policies'.

As the night got later, Peter felt the dread of sleepiness creep over him. The two were watching a movie in the living room when it really started to take him. Peter was sitting on the floor up against the couch and MJ's fingers were methodically combing through his hair from where she was curled on the sofa above him and his eyes fought to stay open. Pretty soon he was drifting off into what he hoped would be a dreamless sleep...

MJ woke suddenly, startled out of sleep by the yell that came inches from her face. It took her a split second to realize what was happening.

"Peter, Peter wake up." she touched his shoulder and he woke with a start. She let her eyes adjust in the dark, and saw the tears steadily falling down his cheeks.

"Hey, hey," MJ's heart clenched as Peter's body shook with sobs. She slid down behind him so that her chest was pressed up against his back and wrapped her arms around his torso. "Hey, it was just a dream."

Peter collapsed against her chest with a gasping breath, unable to stop the sobs wracking his body. He clung to her arms and turned to bury his face against her neck. MJ felt like she couldn't breathe--the hurt coming off him was excruciatingly palpable. She pressed a kiss to the crown of his head and continued to whisper calming things in his ear. "You're okay, you're safe. I've got you." she rubbed gentle circles on his shoulders and down his back.

Peter lifted his head to look at her. "H-e, he had you-he killed--MJ he--it was so real--" he broke off hoarsely as another round of sobs overtook him.

Tears sprang in MJ's eyes and she grabbed the back of his head to pull him back against her. "I'm okay, I'm right here." she pressed another kiss to his temple, and then one to his cheek. "Shh," MJ ran her hand down to interlace their fingers and pull them to her heart. "See? Living and breathing."

Peter felt the steady beating of her heart and tried to calm his own, matching his breathing with the rise and fall of her chest. Eventually the sobs subsided and he relaxed in her arms.

They stayed like that for what felt like forever, until MJ gently nudged him with her head. "Hey," she whispered. "C'mon." she pulled him up with her and led him back to his room, silently closing the door behind them. Peter felt blindly for his bed and sank onto the mattress. He tried to subtly wipe his tears away, but thought it pretty much useless at this point. MJ climbed onto the bed and gathered him up in her arms again. This time she had something in her hand. He got situated with his head resting on her abdomen and watched as she opened the book and began to read in the dim light of his bedside lamp.

"'Once upon a time in midwinter, when the snowflakes were falling like feathers from the sky, a queen sat sewing at her window,-'"

Peter interrupted her hoarsely. "Is this Snow White?"

"Hush," MJ pushed his hair back from his forehead and leaned over to press a kiss to it. "'As she sewed she looked up at the snow and pricked her finger with her needle...'"

The late morning light woke Peter, as well as the warm weight of his girlfriends torso flung over most of his body. He gently shook her hip. "MJ, wake up."

Her head shot up and squinted at him through a mop of curls going every which direction. "Huh?"

Peter stifled a laugh. "Good morning, beautiful."

MJ groaned and flopped back down on the bed.

Peter moved to lay his head on top of hers and whispered. "I think that was the best sleep I've ever had." MJ was quiet for so long, Peter thought she'd fallen back asleep. "Snow White really did it for you, huh?" she said.

He pressed his forehead to the back of her neck and laughed. "No, I don't think it was that."

MJ rolled over to face him. He hovered over her with a shy grin. "Thank you." he said."For last night."

She pulled him down and brushed her lips against his. "Anytime, Parker."

[you-guys--are-losers]

The Darkest Hour

Prompt: #11:

“Hold on, you died.”

“Yeah, well, it didn’t stick.”

Requested By: @maiden-texas

Warning: I ACTUALLY CRIED WHILE WRITING THIS. I DON’T CRY. CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED.

In the darkest hour of Queens, May Parker became the light that MJ clung to like a moth.

Power lines were down, entire streets were demolished. Car alarms screamed in the night for weeks after the first battle, and the air was thick with dust and ash that clawed its way down MJ’s throat with every breath. For weeks, there was no voice that the grainy air did not make raspy and hoarse. Any small exertion sent a tightness through MJ’s chest that was followed by a hacking cough.

May Parker’s apartment was a safe haven now, the only one. Ned was staying there as well, after having lost both of his parents to the same thing that had erased half of the population from earth. MJ spent most of her time with him those first few days, huddled on May’s couch with his hand clenched in hers. He stared straight ahead with hollow eyes at the window, and nothing that MJ said seemed to reach him. She wondered if it ever would.

That day on the bus had only been a week or two ago, and somehow it felt like years.

Ned had explained to MJ what had happened, and the chill that cut her to the bone as she looked at the ship was one that the girl never would be able to describe. When the attacks had begun to take place, slipping away from the school group had not been so difficult. The museum they were visiting had not been so far away from Ned’s house, so MJ had accompanied him home. Turning down Mr. Leeds’s offer of shelter had been a no-brainer, because MJ couldn’t leave her mother wondering where she was.

Her own home had been harder to reach than Ned’s because it was located on the street where the battle had taken place.

By the time MJ got there, the street was empty of the billionaire in a robot suit, the D&D impersonator with an overanimated cape, and the spiderling that MJ cared for more than she would ever admit. The whole of the street was demolished, with broken windows and screaming car alarms and thick smoke filling the air. By then, the ship had withdrawn, but MJ did not think that the Avengers had won. If they had, Tony Stark would be on every screen trying to calm the public, and there would already be cleanup crews in the streets.

No, the fact that the ship had withdrawn meant that the alien life had gotten whatever it was they had come for.

The power was out, and the streets below were crawling with cleanup crews. It had taken days to organize after the event, the horrific occurrence that many had begun to call “The Disappearing.” Those days had been chaos, their own special kind of hell that MJ prayed would never come to her mind again. Sitting there on the couch with Ned, however, it was hard not to think about crawling through debris, sometimes on hand and knees, as glass shards cut her clothing to rags and ash streaked her face. That ash had been someone, once, someone’s mother or son or brother or daughter, and now it had been  reduced to a few dark particles that made MJ’s face as filthy as the rest of her.

When she had arrived at May’s house, the woman had opened the door with a hesitant stance as she used it to shield her body. As soon as she saw it was MJ, however, she unbolted the lock and quickly ushered the battered, bleeding girl inside.

“You’re here,” she had whispered in a voice that was constricted. MJ could not tell if it was the emotion that tightened May’s throat, or just the ashes. “You’re here.” There had been an embrace, one so tight and packed with emotion that it had brought tears to MJ’s eyes. This was not an uncommon occurrence; MJ had grown used to the tears. They did not seem to want to leave her alone. Still, these hurt more than most, because the embrace that would have shocked her once had become a common action in these dark days.

As she stepped over the threshold, MJ’s one-room studio that she shared with her mother looked just like all of the other damaged buildings. Every window had been broken, and there was even what looked like a shard of alien metal impaled in the wall across from a particularly damaged glass pane. The room was filled with dust and debris, and the floor was covered with shards of shattered glass.

The place that was supposed to MJ’s safe haven was damaged, yes. But some small, childish part of her prayed that maybe it would be alright. She and her mother would rebuild, and it would be secure again, the place were MJ could truly find home.

As she entered the room, MJ’s eyes locked with her mothers’. Upon seeing her daughter home, Hannah Jones’s hazel eyes filled with tears in a way that MJ had never seen before, followed by sobs of relief. As hannam embraced MJ, something strange happened. MJ did not pull away in the manner that she normally would, did not try to rationalize the tears away. Instead, she allowed herself to be held as her mother’s tears soaked into her shirt. It took the girl a moment to realize that there were tears in her eyes, too, and that these tears were pouring down her face.

The rioting had stopped, several days later, but only because a new group of people with guns. Law enforcement, or whatever was left, had managed to regroup, as had government officials. There were private lines that they could use to communicate, and the cleanup began slowly and steadily. Civilians were instructed to stay in their homes and sit quiet, and there would be rations distributed until the rubble was cleared away and they could start again.

MJ learned something in those days, the ones spent holed up in a shell of an apartment with Ned and May. She learned that the people who were most useful to the rebuilding after this war were the people who had been alone before it. She had been like that, once… Surviving by herself, without need of anything but that which she could make on her own. And now, she was sitting on the sofa beside a broken boy and a broken woman, and it was their fault that she was broken, too. It was their fault that they had forced their way into her life, their fault that they had given her something to lose .

It was Peter Parker’s fault, because his loss had crippled all of them.

Slowly, those who had already stood on their own two feet managed to rebuild. There was a normal, and it was new. This normal was waiting. They were waiting for the power to go up, waiting to see who had survived, waiting to see if maybe there was an ounce of hope to be had in all of this.

They didn’t have to wait more than a few weeks.

When the knock came at the door, Ned, May, and MJ hopped into their normal routine of May going to get the door while MJ moved Ned to hide with her in the closet. Almost as soon as MJ managed to get both herself and Ned into the darkened space, there had been a call of, “MJ? Get Ned, it’s safe.”

She let out a sharp breath, slowly easing open the closet door. If she was being forced to call for them, May would have called MJ Michelle. It was a system they had set up the first night of her arrival, a night when MJ could still taste her mother’s ashes on her lips. Ned remained expressionless still as MJ lightly tugged on his arm, pulling him out of the closet with her and into the remains of the living room.

Standing in the doorway beside May was Tony Stark.

He was not wearing a suit or anything of the sort. Instead, he wore a simple pair of pants, leather shoes, and a plain grey shirt. Though the clothing was clean, MJ could tell by the grime on his face that Stark had not bathed for days at least. His eyes were sunken and his frame was gaunt. MJ could see a place where his shirt puckered up, and through the thin cloth she could have sworn she saw bandaging.

MJ drew in a sharp breath, and her grip around Ned’s arm tightened. Even in his dazed state, Ned stepped closer to MJ, and May wet her lips. MJ could tell that she was struggling to hold back tears. “Please, sit,” the wavering, raspy voice of May Parker finally managed to force out.

Stark winced, and that was when MJ’s heart sank. Her hand fell from Ned’s arm, and her friend willingly moved, for the first time in weeks, to stumble to a chair. The boy’s dark, hopeless eyes were locked on Stark. “May,” Tony began in a voice that was so gentle it made MJ sick, “I am so-”

“Sit, please,” May repeated, and this time her voice was a little stronger.

“May-”

“Don’t call me that.”

MJ visibly recoiled at May’s outburst, stumbling into the wall behind her. A picture frame that had already been hanging precariously was misplaced by her shoulder, and it crashed to the floor with a shattering sound. Neither adult looked her way.

Stark looked pained, and MJ thought he might vomit. Before he could say anything else, May was continuing. “You don’t know me, Stark, and you don’t know these kids. These kids have been through hell. We all have. You don’t know me, you don’t know them, and you don’t know my Peter-”

Her voice cracked off, and MJ felt herself holding her breath.

“So don’t call me May, and please sit.” As she finished, May’s voice was quiet and hollow. Stark obeyed immediately, taking a seat on the sofa that was spilling out stuffing from four different places.

“Mrs. Parker,” Tony murmured, and his voice was hoarse as any of theirs was. MJ had not considered the fact that The Disappearing might have been an event not native to Earth, but now she wondered. “I’m here to talk to you about Peter.”

May pursed her lips, and for a moment, all MJ could see in her eyes was agony.

“No,” she whispered. “No, you’re not.”

“May-”

“I know how this goes.” Her eyes were empty, and MJ couldn’t bear to look at them. “I know what you’re going to say. Whatever you’ve got to tell me, I’ve heard it a million times before. I heard it when I lost my brother-in-law and my best friend in the same day, I heard it when they told me my Ben was… Was gone. I don’t want to hear it.”

Tony Stark’s face contained more grief than MJ had ever seen before, rivalled only by the hollow pits of May Parker’s eyes. “I know,” he murmured quietly. “I know, Ma- Mrs. Parker. That’s why I’m not going to tell you how sorry I am, because I think you know that.”

There was a moment of silence as Stark beheld May, and MJ could see in his eyes that he was unsure whether or not she would let him continue or just strike him. After a moment, she nodded.

“I’m not going to tell you that he was a hero, because you already know. No one knows better than the people in this room what that kid does- what Peter did every day for people who he never got to hear thank him.”

A sob escaped May Parker’s lips, and MJ found herself crossing the room to the reedy woman. MJ gripped the woman’s calloused hand in her own, and May clung to it like it was a lifeline. She looked down at MJ through cracked spectacles and attempted a smile, one that was lopsided and trembling and so terribly, horribly Peter Parker. A tear fell from May’s cheek and landed on MJ’s neck, but she did not brush it away.

“I am going to tell you that he was-” Tony Stark’s voice cracked, and MJ drew in a slow breath. “He was smart, the same way he always has been. He adapted to things that even I’ve never seen before, fought with allies we only met the day before. He looked Thanos- the one who did this- straight in the eye and used those same stupid comebacks the kid always... “

Tony Stark’s eyes squeezed shut, and he did not continue. For a moment, he just sat there, breathing deeply. Finally, he managed to whisper, “He was scared. He was a kid, and he was scared, and I’m not gonna tell you he faced death bravely because he didn’t. He wanted to keep living, the same way we all do, because that’s human.

“Until the moment Peter Parker died, he was human. And when you’re fighting someone like Thanos, being able to keep your humanity is something that no ordinary boy can do. When he died, Peter Parker was a man.”

Another sob escaped May’s lips, and suddenly MJ was supporting most of the woman’s weight. Her own heart was not beating, or at least not that MJ could feel. There was an emptiness in her chest that she could not hope to ever fill, something that was so dark and consuming that all she could do to beat it back was think about May. MJ’s hand gripped May’s as she gently lowered her into Ben’s old chair, still gripping her hand.

When Ned spoke, she nearly dropped the woman’s hand in shock.

“And he’s gone? You lost against… Against, Thanos? It’s game over?”

Stark’s eyes snapped to Ned, as did MJ’s. Her friend still looked broken, still looked battered. But Ned Leeds no longer looked empty.

Tony Stark gritted his teeth as he looked up at Ned. “No,” he spat, shaking his head. “No. No, it’s not, because if there’s anything I’ve learned in these past few days it’s that time isn’t as permanent as it used to be, and it can change sides. And that’s what it’s gonna do.”

Tony turned to face May, and his eyes softened slightly. “We’re going to fix this, May, or die trying. The original Avengers team is still here, and we made some new friends that have just as much to lose as we do. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, but the universe is an awful lot of territory to micromanage, and we’re going to use that to our advantage. And I swear to you that I am going to spend every moment-” For a moment, Stark could not continue, and he looked away. “Every moment fighting to get your boy back.”

“Our boy,” MJ corrected. Her voice was hoarse and scraped against her throat from lack of use, but it was loud enough for them all to hear it. “He’s our boy.” May squeezed MJ’s hand as the dark-haired girl swallowed a lump in her throat. “What do we do to help, until then?”

“I can program,” Ned interjected with a grim sort of determination, “and MJ can hack. We go to Midtown, we’re both good with tech. We can- we can go through data, we can gather information, whatever.”

Stark took a deep breath, composing himself as he looked up at them. “I came here to tell you about what happened, but I also came to ask you if you would consider moving to the Upstate facility with me, just temporarily. It isn’t safe for you here, and there, you could monitor situations on the ground.”

“It isn’t safe for anybody here,” May corrected, and her voice was that of a woman struggling to keep from falling apart. “Why should we move upstate with you when all of these people are stuck here, under what’s basically martial law? Can’t you help them, too?”

The accusing bite in May’s voice did not seem to surprise Stark. He looked up at her with eyes that were filled with so much agony that MJ could not breathe. “I can’t,” he murmured. “In times like these, money doesn’t… Money isn’t a bargaining chip that is as useful as it once was. Procedure and paperwork aren’t options for us on the level they once were. I can only help on a much smaller scale. But I can help you.”

May appeared to be contemplating as she drew in a long breath.

“Please,” Stark murmured. “The kid won’t forgive me if he finds out I left you all out here in the middle of this.”

That was enough. It was as if all of the energy in May left her in one gasp, and she slowly nodded. “Alright, “she murmured. “Ned, MJ… Let’s go.”

There was nothing for them to take. Any food that had been in the apartment had either spoiled when the power went out or been stored in hiding places, just in case their home was broken into. MJ had watched out the window as groups of police, people who were supposed to be helping the victims, burst their way into apartments instead to take food with their guns blazing. The government was doing what it could, but there was little it could do to prevent law enforcement from going rogue to steal what they needed for their families. There was no clothing that they could get, other than May. She had kept a packed bag of clothing and necessities that contained almost everything valuable in the apartment. Ned was wearing a too-small hoodie and pair of pajama pants belonging to Peter, and MJ was wearing May’s jeans and one of her blouses paired with her torn jacket and combat boots. That was all that they had, and it was all they would bring with them. The ride to Stark’s facility was silent, except for the sounds of May’s muffled sobs from the passenger seat.

The arrival at Stark’s headquarters marked a new normal, and this one was a little more empty and a little more bearable all at the same time.

May had her own room at the headquarters, but Ned and MJ shared a large one. The suite had two beds and a massive bathroom and everything from a flatscreen to a minifridge. On the TV, there were news channels that were broadcasting in spite of all of the destruction, most of which came from other parts of the country that had not been hit the way New York had. The government was in shambles, trying to figure out exactly how to handle what had happened.

Ned and MJ could only watch the TV for a few minutes at a time before MJ had to shut it off. Most of the time, it was either because they were rattling off a list of the celebrities, politicians, and public figures who had died, as if they were somehow more important than all of the countless others who had faced the same fate.

Another time, MJ had needed to switch it off because the news was covering the chaos in Queens, speculating where the local hero was amidst the chaos. After switching it off, she had gone to the bathroom to vomit into the toilet while Ned held her hair.

The A.I., F.R.I.D.A.Y., told MJ and Ned how to get to the labs at their request. There, the two students found themselves surrounded by the most advanced computers that either of them had ever seen, all powered by their own generators. These, F.R.I.D.A.Y. had informed them, were theirs to use for monitoring of any alien activity on earth. They were also MJ’s only relief from being forced to think about him, about Peter Parker dying light years away from the people who loved him.

The work was therapy. It pushed away all thoughts of that miserable day from her mind, gave her something to work towards with Ned. It was a way for them to find a new normal. Slowly, surely, the days began to blur into one another. The world outside was rebuilding, no matter the fact that MJ’s heart remained in shreds. She still worked, still monitored, still poured herself into the task. But she did not remain in the headquarters at all times, the way that Ned did. Stark had insisted on compensating them a little bit for their work, and as the economy licked its wounds, the currency regained some of its normal value.

MJ went out at night. She drowned in whatever she could find-- dance music, crowded city squares, house parties-- just for a moment, just so she could breathe.

Because whenever she returned at night and collapsed in the bed she and Ned had taken to sharing, she was back in the one-room studio she shared with her mother.

They were huddled in the bathroom, with an emergency radio and blankets, as well as with the lockbox that contained their money and food. The radio whined announcements that were clearly struggling to maintain order, but from the reports of riots and the sounds of gunshots that MJ and her mother could hear from the streets, the attempt to maintain control was failing. Multiple times, MJ and her mother were forced to shut off the radio and shut up when they heard people trying to break down the door. Every second felt like another hour of hell.

The floor was cold and painful beneath MJ, and she could hear the dripping of the faucet, but after a while even that stopped. The pipe connected to it had undoubtedly been damaged, and MJ was left in the dark with only the sound of her mother’s breathing.

All MJ could think about was what was happening beyond these walls. Ned, alone with his family, Peter out in the far reaches of the earth or even somewhere in space-- they were so far away from one another, these three who had taken each others’ companionship for granted so many times. There was a large chance she would never see either of them again, never be able to make them feel any less alone. There were so many things that had gone unsaid, so many choices they hadn’t made yet.

What if Peter didn’t come back, and she never got to tell him that she loved him?

Every hour dragged, and MJ felt herself become more exhausted with each one. They faded into a haze of drooping eyelids and droning radio static and clapping a hand over her mother’s mouth when she heard footsteps outside of the door. Their front door had long since been kicked down, and MJ did not know what would greet them when it was finally safe to exit the bathroom. This was anarchy, and there were no rules now.

Just when MJ was wondering if she would be able to keep going anymore, her mother started to scream.

MJ was roused from a partial sleep by hysterical cries, and she turned to face Hannah Jones as she flicked on a flashlight beside her hands. “Mom? Mom!” she cried out in a voice that was hoarse from thirst. She reached to grab her mother by the shoulder and watched as, beneath her fingers, her mother’s body began to dissolve. Warm flesh turned to ash, and the little bits of what had once been her mother dusted MJ’s arms, coated her throat with every inhale. She was gone.

MJ was alone.

Ned almost always woke her up, but by then the damage had already been done. Each dream only made MJ long for more work, more music, something burning at the back of her throat to wash away the ache. Sometimes, if she snuck a little alcohol, she could sleep without the nightmares.

The Avengers would leave, then come back again. They would plot, they would consult Ned and MJ for any intelligence, and then they would depart again. The cycle was fruitless, again and again and again. MJ began to hear Tony Stark’s words in her head as empty promises as despair ate her alive. She only stayed for May Parker, for going to her room at night and talking in whispers, making sure that they weren’t forgetting him. Part of her thought that, no matter how many missions the Avengers went on, MJ would always find herself in that room again, forcing herself to solidify every chocolate curl and lopsided grin in her mind.

MJ had lost count of how many nights were spent that way when the sun rose over a new New York City.

MJ peeled herself from her bed with a pounding headache the same way she did every morning, making sure to be as quiet as possible as she crawled to the bathroom to retch into the toilet before grabbing her glass of water. By the time she stumbled into the computer lab in a Stark Industries hoodie and leggings, MJ had not checked the news. She collapsed into a wheeled chair the same way that she always did, opening several different windows to check the radar she monitored. It was only when F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice announced, “Opening lab doors,” that MJ spoke.

“Did I wake you up? I’m sorry, Leeds, it was another rough night-”

“MJ.”

The voice that reached her ears caused MJ to freeze. Her mind spun as she blinked at the monitor, struggling to breathe. That voice was one that she had talked about with May for months, remembering the voice cracks and the earnest tone and the way that it sounded when it was choked with emotion. It was a little deeper, a little hoarse. But she knew that voice.

Slowly, MJ turned the wheeled chair to face the doorway, and her eyes locked on him immediately.

He was clad in a different sort of suit, one that was metallic and fit his form perfectly. It was streaked with grime, as was the rest of him. His face was dirty, and there were bruises along his right cheekbone and over his left eye. The brown eyes that met hers, however, did not look like those of a defeated hero. They shone, and she realized they were glistening with tears. His stupid frog mouth was twisted into the lopsided grin that haunted her whenever she closed her eyes, the one that always succeeded in lifting her spirits.

MJ’s voice was the ghost of a whisper in her throat. “H-hold on,” she breathed, her heart racing. “You died.” Part of her wondered if maybe this was just her reaction to having too much to drink the night before.

“Yeah, well, it didn’t stick.”

A sob escaped MJ’s lips, and before she could help it, she was shooting across the room to him. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and suddenly her stupid best friend was using his super strength to lift her from the floor and hold her to him. MJ felt hot tears falling from her eyes, and she could feel her damp curls from where his face was pressed to her hair. She was shaking, and she was clinging to him like he was her lifeline. He was here… She was touching him, he wasn’t just a bad reaction to some vodka.

He was home.

“You… You asshole,” she sobbed against his neck. “You absolute asshole, d-don’t you ever-”

“I won’t, I won’t,” he whispered quietly against her hair. “I won’t. I’m home. They’re all home, MJ. Mr. Stark said your mom-”

Another sob, and Peter stopped talking as he held her close. “Hey,” he whispered, and there was concern in his voice. “Are you alright?”

She pulled back, just enough to look up at him as he carefully set her down. She had to admit, the fact that he had lifted her when she had two inches on him was impressive, considering he had just been dead.

“I’ve never been better,” she whispered as she let go of his neck in favor of taking one of his hands. Yes, she was in love with him, but this was about more than that. This was about feeling him under her fingers, knowing he was here and he wasn’t going to go. “You, on the other hand, smell like crap.”

Peter grinned as he used his other hand to brush away the tears that had made marks through the grime. “Yeah, I guess I’d better go-”

“No. You’re not leaving,” she interrupted. “We’re going to go see- see May and Ned. Peter, you need to go see Ned, he’s… He needs you.”

“I know,” he whispered, gently squeezing her hand as they began to walk out of the laboratory. MJ knew, deep down, that he knew how she felt about him, and she knew the same. But they both knew that this was more important. Today wasn’t about what might be… Today was about what was, and about relishing the fact that he was here. For a moment, Peter stopped, tugging her gently by the hand so that she stopped where he could look up at her. “But we’ve got time, MJ.”

MJ took a breath, and for a moment, she just focused on the feeling of his calloused hands, free of the metal suit, in hers. After a long moment, she exhaled, and then MJ stood a little straighter. Her voice held relief, pure and simple, as she repeated his statement.

“We’ve got time.” 

[jjdoggies-fanfics]

Prompt #26

Prompt: Sh! Listen! That’s The Sound Of Me Falling In Love With You

Peter was kind of known for his stealth around school. He could seemingly sneak in or out of room without anyone noticing. Well just about anyone. For some reason MJ could always sense when he tried to sneak up on her. Peter tried to sneak up on MJ again when she was waiting for him in Midtown’s library, he was a few steps behind MJ’s chair and he thought he was going to finally be able to sneak up on MJ when “Hi Peter.” Damnnit.

“Hi MJ.” Peter said, tossing his stuff onto the table as he took a seat next to MJ. The two started to work on their homework in what MJ liked to call ‘blissful silence’, until Peter disturbed the peace. “Hey MJ do you hear that?” Peter asked.

MJ looked over at Peter. “Hear what?” MJ asked.

“Sh! You have to be really quiet to hear it.” Peter said, shushing MJ with a smile sneaking its way onto his face.

They were both quiet for a moment, MJ didn’t hear anything. “What am I listening for Peter, this better not be one of your stupid jokes.” MJ snarked.

“Well,” Peter teased, leaning over to MJ “It’s the sound of me falling in love with you.”

MJ was quiet for a moment and just stared at Peter before she said, “Shut up Peter.” with a light shove to Peter’s shoulder, which Peter overdramatized by falling out of his chair, making a bunch of noise and getting them threatened of being thrown out of the library.

[mcwriting]

Am I gonna keep writing about Tom, even tho he might have a gf?

Yes

Here’s why: it’s complete fiction.

It’s in the name: fan fiction.

I’m not hard pressed on believing there’s a real shot or deluding myself into some conspiracy spiral.

I was never a tomdaya believer, but if it had become real, I still would’ve continued writing reader fics because they’re fun escapes and once again: COMPLETE. FICTION.