#spideychelle hc

[thousandcorals]

If Peter Parker changed his last name to Jones after marrying Michelle, his full name would Peter Benjamin Jones

PBJ

Peanut Butter Jelly

He’d love the nickname

[you-guys--are-losers]

Three sentence fic prompt: Spideychelle + pregnancy

“So, I’m not gonna lay an egg sac, right?” 

Peter looks up from his notebook with a furrowed brow, confusion in his eyes as he questions, “What did you say?” 

Then MJ brings the test from behind her back, and Peter isn’t sure where the embrace began but he sure hopes it will never end. 

[softboyholland]

reasons why peter parker loves michelle jones: “because, she keeps me on my toes.”

ok gather round kids,

cuz i’m about to tell you a story

so peter and mj are best friends at this point

everything is fine and dandy except that michelle knows he’s spider-man

and peter kinda knows that michelle knows that he’s spider-man

AND michelle knows that he knows that she knows that he’s spider-man

and ned knows that they’re: idiots!

don’t get me wrong, michelle deadass talks to ned about spidey shit like it’s a casual thing that they all know about and ned doesn’t even try to cover for peter anymore

and ned has definitely told peter that she knows

in his defense, peter was practically forcing the information out of him! like he could just tell by the way peter was quietly eating his spaghetti

he Knew™

where were we?

oh right so, peter and mj are actually The Worst

because peter hasn’t like officially told mj about his whole extra-curricular yet because he’S JUST SCARED of her reaction

also you know, his mind is telling him yes but his heart says no apparently

and michelle, 

michelle refuses to break unTIL peter tells him herself. 

she wants to hear it from the man himself.

and so now, they’re all stuck in this uncomfortable loop of peter’s horrible acting whenever he has to go save someone and mj’s in the room and mj being uncomfortably Nice to peter whenever he turns on the news and sees DANGER!

and finally, after a good knock on the head from a burglar, peter decides to tell her

he’s actually going to do it

he’s going to straight up go to her house and tell her that he’s spider-man

and on the way there he’s trying to think of all of her possible reactions

maybe she’ll laugh at him because it took him this long to tell her

there’s a really high chance that she’d curse him out

or she’d just throw a really large book at his head

maybe she’ll fall in lov-

NOPE, HE DOES NOT NEED THAT THOUGHT RIGHT NOW

so we’re just gonna skim thru the cliche shit

so he knocks on her window and she opens it and he invites her outside to her fire escape and they have their usual banter and then he tells her and- 

and well, he was NOT. expecting this reaction

because, 

she does not believe him.

she doeS NOT BELIEVE HIM AT ALL.

i just wanna establish that peter’s got his normal clothes over his suit (he’s trying to be better about hiding his secret identity) and she can’t see his suit 

and then, for some reason they’re both ‘!!!!!’ at each other

they’re arguing about whether or not peter is spider-man when he’s wearing his suit underneath his civilian clothes

omg! he’s wearing his suit!

so he pops open the first three buttons of his shirt and shows her the spidey symbol on his chest

she looks pleasantly surprised for like a nanosecond but then she crosses her arms and rolls her eyes, “yeah, like i would believe THAT. nice try, peter!”

and peter doesn’t know why he’s so frustrated by the fact that she DOESN’T. BELIEVE. HIM.

he could just let this go and pretend it was all some big prank

but he WANTS her to know that he’s spider-man

and then he decides to just take off his shirt

“peter, what are y-”

and then he’s taking off the t-shirt he’s wearing beneath THAT shirt

and before she knows it, peter parker is stripping in front of her on her fire escape

holy shit, this is what dreams are made of

once his civilian clothes are nothing but a pile on the floor, he puts on his mask, “see? i am spider-man!”

in case you haven’t realised already at this point, mj is just messing with peter out of spite and she also wanted to see if ned put him up to this

then, she uses that as an excuse to touch spider-man’s bicep as if she’s examining his suit

oh shit! he’s fit!

“yeah, halloween isn’t until october, PETER!”

and peter is about to explode, “mj! I. AM. SPIDER-MAN.”

and she’s about to give in but she literally just made peter strip for her out in the open so who knows what other lengths he might go to

she might even get some solid blackmail material

“give up the act, peter!”

and then this weird sort of look enters peter’s eye

he takes one step closer to her, “you want me to prove to you that i”m spider-man?”

“sure, let’s see what you’ve got up your sleeve now,” she deadpans.

“close your eyes.”

ok, nOW SHE’S WORRIED

“if you strip any further, i’m kicking you off this fire escape-”

“gross, mJ!”

“fine.”

and she closes her eyes, expecting the worst, actually she doesn’t even know WHAT! TO EXPECT

and then she feels his arm curl around her waist

“what are you-”

“just, close your eyes, ok?” he says it in a really soft way and that makes her wanna lay her life out on the line for him so she closes her eyes

and she feels herself thudding into something 

apparently, that was his chest because she starts touching his chest and he coughs, “mj, that’s my chest.”

“oh sorry”

and she mentally kicks herself because hOW AWKWARD WAS THAT

then he whispers in her ear, and it’s really gentle and soft, “hold onto me, ok?”

and he positions her arms around his neck and his shoulders and then suddenly, she feels like she’s racing through something and it’s really windy

she’s still got her eyes closed

peter looks at her, “open your eyes, mj.”

and hOLY SHIT SHE’S SWINGING ACROSS NEW YORK IN SPIDER-MAN’S ARMS WHAT THE FCUK

her voice leaves her at this very moment so all she does is let out a squeak

and she rests her chin on peter’s shoulder and stares down at the city below her and it’s so beautiful from up here she’s never noticed and 

she doesn’t scream or yell or cheer

she’s just quiet as peter swings from one building to the other

and then, peter returns to her fire escape

they’re both standing together now and she still hasnt let go of him yet

she pulls away awkwardly and he takes off his mask

“i knew all along, you know.”

peter smiles at her in that soft way, “yeah, i figured you were just messing with me when we were up there.”

because, of course he realises while he’s in the middle of shooting a web at a building

they sit in silence for a while 

“sorry, if i made you unc-”

“no, you- i’m just-”

and this is the first time he’s ever seen mj speechless

#HE made her speechless

then she looks down her fire escape and at the city below her, “new york is so pretty.”

“it is,” he says, looking at her, because he’s never seen her like this before and he’ll be damned if he takes his eyes off of her

“are you- are you mad that i didn’t tell you sooner?”

she’s still looking down her fire escape, “i’m not going to lie, i was a little hurt at first but that was stupid don’t-”

“you were hurt?”

“i thought you didn’t trust me as much as you trusted ned and may and i’m okay with that really,” now she’s looking up at him to try to convince him that she’s fine. “i know that ned and may are the two most important people in your life i totally understand and i’m sorry if i manipulated you into telling me-”

“mj-”

“no it’s ok!”

and then his stomach grumbles and she rolls her eyes, “i have pizza in my fridge.”

he frowns, “is it vegetarian?”

“no, my dad ordered it last night and he couldnt finish it.”

“alright then!’

and they have pizza for dinner and watch brooklyn 99 in her room, under a pile of blankets after that

and they decide to invite ned over because he’ll probably be able to sleep in peace now that she officially knows

peter’s changed into his normal clothes now btw

and then, late at night, once ned is knocked out somewhere on a mattress and they’re still awake, 

“hey mj?”

“yeah,”

“you’re on my list of the top five most important people to me in this whole entire universe.”

he’s expecting her to brush it off or tease him about it because he knows that she doesn’t do: emotions

but what she says, once again, he doesn’t expect,

“you’re on mine too.”

[aces-drew]

SPIDEYCHELLE (PETER/MICHELLE) COUCH HEADCANNONS

hey y’all,

wow, it has been a super long time since i’ve posted any content of my own and i’m here now, with a hc about peter and mj on their apartment couch bc they’re so cute; and i couldn't get this out of my head, at all :)

this was inspired by an answer series of hc’s by @riarkledale and i strongly recommend that post ( linked here ) bc it’s so very cute and this draws of that domestic perspective 

okay here it goes, hope you guys enjoy xx

some days, they both sit at opposite ends of the couch, reading

mostly, it’s around six in the evening, and the setting sun illuminates their apartment with mute hues of orange and red

it serves michelle’s gold framed glasses to look like more of a halo than anything else, as she occasionally sips on her tea, taking it and replacing it on their tea table, never looking up once

peter does it purposely

he takes the side facing the setting sun bc the light illuminates michelle so elegantly that when he takes an occasional look up from the book he’s reading, he’s in awe of her beautiful brown locks and her glasses framing a very content michelle as she continues to flip pages

mj does it too, she looks up when peter is very much engrossed in one of the quantum mechanics books they share from their very own mini-library they continue to compile in the corner of the living room

three highlighters placed on both hands and one in his mouth, all while balancing a pencil he writes notes with

she enjoys it so much bc it’s the sight of the love of her life doing what he loves; reading up so he can create mischief when he feels like it; with and without his suit

other days, they have movie dates

they’re always snuggled up underneath one really huge blanket

they have something that they love on

or something that peter loves on

bc mj doesn't really have a very vicarious interest/range in movies

but she watches them bc peter is always so incredibly excited to talk about the plot and the characters and backstage cues in line with the story

she thinks it’s adorable

she really doesn't want to be the cliche type, but sometimes the movies bore her

and she refuses to fall asleep and disrespect peter

so she does something that peter doesn't mind

she kisses him

and it always throws peter off-guard even though it happens almost every time

and let’s just say the movie is paused for the night

or sometimes, they just leave it on

bc they don’t even leave the couch lmao

most days at 3am, mj is usually sitting alone in the couch

trying to keep herself awake

she doesn't really have a problem though

bc she’s always so fricking worried about peter

she tries not to watch the news

bc she knows he's going to be in it

chasing a car or drug dealers or tumbling off roofs

she tries to hold back tears bc she’s strong and she can’t physically worry about a person this much

nope, no, nO ugh

sometimes she just wishes he was a normal college-level young adult

so that she can promise herself that he wont have a chance of dying every single night he goes out with that suit

somedays, she doesn't cry bc she convinces herself to be rational and thin about him walking through that door and kissing her forehead

but other days, she cries herself to sleep bc something really crazy is going on and the reports are talking about cuts, bruises and so much more

and he cant evEN GO TO THE HOSPITAL

peter gets home an hour or two later

she asleep with that huge blanket wrapped around her

and his heart breaks every goddamn time

bc he knows what she’s been doing

the tv is playing faintly and on the news channel

he tries to clean himself up as much as he can

washes the blood and grit

cleans his wounds

all while contemplating whether he should go on doing it

he doesn't want to, if he knows it’s hurting mj as much as it is

but eventually, mj gets up bc ironically, peter is not a subtle presence

and always drops the first aid kit 

and that’s always followed by a loud string of distressed curses

she clears away her doubt and thanks god that he’s okay

she kisses him and tells him that it’s okay

she know that he has to, that it matters, everything he does

he doesn't ever know how to comprehend the love she has for him

and the love he has for her

they eventually make some tea after cleaning everything up

and they go to sleep on the couch bc they wouldn't wake up if it were the bed

only for about an hour before classes begin

but what the hell, they weren’t a normal couple

peter falls asleep on the couch a lot

he just gets carried away with something but the lack of sleep gets to him

he’s only 21 after all

mj kisses him on the forehead everytime

and puts a blanket over him

the one they really love and watch movies under on date night

she can swear, she sees a faint smile on him when she does that

but she’s sure he’s asleep

god he’s such a puppy

she smiles

[i-lovethatforme]

Imagine, if you will, post NWH MJ, doodling while she takes a break from her more serious spider-man sketch. She’s a scent minded my putting lines to paper, just sketching whatever happens to pop in. And in that particular moment, she can’t help but think of the guy who jogs past her work every morning. The skin tight spandex jogging shorts hugging particular… curves. Before she knows it there is a butt on her page. A perfect, round spankable- hey wait. No hold up a second. Pause. Her eyes flicker from the doodled ass to her spider-man sketch. She just happened to sketch spider-man mid swing, the pov focusing on a certain… feature. The ass. It’s identical. At first she rationalizes it by thinking, duh, of course she’s gonna draw the same general shapes in two pieces drawn back to back. But then she checks her other Spider-Man sketches, and the other doodles of jogging ass man (of course she’s drawn him more than once. He’s got a fantastic ass and he jogs by her work almost daily. It’s normal to have three sketchbooks full of ass doodles from the same guy. Totally normal…) As she flips through drawing after drawing, inspecting rear after glorious rear, she comes to an inescapable conclusion. The asses may be posed indifferent ways, but the curves are always more or less identical. There is only one possible conclusion. Hot jogging ass man (he came into her store once but she forgot his stupid alliterative name) is Spider-Man!

And that’s how MJ Watson re-figures out Peter’s identity. Through her eidetic memory of… asses. *end scene*

WHY ARE YOU SO ME LIKE??????

You're so galaxy brained and I am absolutely here for it ty 😌😌😌😌

MJ drawing Spidey my fave!!!!! MJ thirsting over Peter from afar my BELOVED!!!!! Her entire sketchbook being Peter and Spidey and that's how she makes the connection?!?!? I WOULD SIMPLY LIKE TO SEE IT!!!!

Also re her memories she could still have some drawings of peter post memory wipe that she never got rid of bc why not!!! And she slowly makes the connection that he's running man but assumed that was about it... but then there are sketches of the necklace and random parts of dreams and it ALL ADDS UP BABYYYYYYY.

MJ figuring it out bc of Peter's dump truck you are so so right!!!!

Machi drawing this when xxxxxx

[spideymichelle]

my petermj head canon is that they sit together like where peter is sitting in between mj’s legs and against her chest while she reads a book and peter’s fidgeting with some shit cause he’s peter and mj has to keep adjusting where she holds her book to read

NOOOOOOOOOOO THAT'S SO THEM AND PETER NEVER KNOWING WHEN TO SIT STILL BUT MJ LIKES HIM TOO MUCH TO SAY HE IS DISTRACTING HER

[yuesgirlfriend]

Help!

I remember reading this one spidechelle fic years ago on aO3 but i cant find it.

I think tony was dead, and in the fic peter and michelle grow close and move into an apartment. Peter keeps hearing this humming noise but doesnt know what it is. They eat dinner with pepper and she says that tony called morgan his hummingbird, and thats how peter figures out MJ is pregnant. Does anyone know the name of this fic????

[peterparkerincorrectquotes]

Tony finally learns how to meme and Peter does Not like the developement hc?

oh very cursed.

• it’s probably by chance that tony finds out using memes bothers peter

• once he figures it out, he probably goes out of his way to use memes at every opportunity, just to make peter uncomfortable. he makes it his personal mission. he asks people for help (like pepper)

• of course she says no. so he uses the meme knowledge he has on his own for a while!

• peter finds it somewhat amusing, but mainly super unnerving. like??? memes are his thing! he’s the internet child! dads aren’t supposed to get memes!

• eventually, peter decides he’s going to challenge the depth of tony’s meme knowledge, and for a couple days they have a meme war. they communicate almost exclusively through memes

• tony burns him big time

• peter uses mostly wholesome/funny memes, but tony uses the memes to roast peter. it’s clearly all in jest, but it’s super embarrassing to be shown up by an old man tony

• little does he know, his unironic gen-z language has tony stumped, too!! while peter is confused and begging MJ for support, tony is getting backup from nat

• nat’s advice is (obviously) solid

• peter acts super annoyed, but actually, he’s probably happy tony gets memes! it gives them common ground!! it means that when peter mutters a meme under his breath next to tony, tony will burst out laughing! it’ll be embarrassing, but it’s one of the best feelings ever to make someone you admire laugh!!

• similarly, tony acts like he’s doing it to annoy peter, but really, he’s just looking for an excuse to talk to peter, tbh!! he wants to bond with his spiderson :’)

bonus:

- 🐡

[spideyxchelle]

so, in the new Morbius trailer, are we going to talk about how in NYC, there is a picture of Spider-Man with the words murderer painted over it? they are REALLY going to lean into Peter killed Mysterio. I see you, Sony. 

[rllymilerlly]

Ideassss

[blushing-starker]

You've already made so many boards for me (or tagged me in ones I didn't explicitly ask for but then I realised I needed them.) But here're some - disconnected - thoughts/prompts/ideas to take or leave: Mafia Boss Peter; Winterironspider; canon-compliant Peter missing Tony after Endgame; Spiderstrange trying to keep their relationship a secret from Tony; and honestly sometimes I'm just down for a classic, any Spideychelle in your brilliant head?

Look at you, hitting me with drama, whump, romance and the funnies! Listen, I will continue making moodboards for you, Katie and one very non trashy @trashystarker . Apart from Raf, Laney, Bee and Mabel, you guys are the ones that interact the most no matter what the hell I post. (I appreciate all of you of course, but some people are there even when i hastily throw together some pics and textures into a melting pot.)

No, but truly, thanks dear. Mafia Peter is so good! But how do I make it angsty? Well, how about mafia boss Peter missing Tony after endgame and counting on Bucky, one half of his heart, to pull him through? They suffer as lovers and then Stephen comes along, tentatively because Tony had only sacrificed himself, had only worked out this plan after the doctor told him it was the singular strategy capable of pulling them through this. The spider and soldier don't blame him, can't even consider the possibility since its not his fault. Tony wouldn't have done what he did if the overall threat hadn't existed. His death lies with Thanos, not Stephen.

(Cue them falling in love, but anywayyyyyy)

Lets get to some happy aspects! Tony survives. So does Peter. Thanks to Strange. If the man's cloak hadn't yanked him away from Thanos' grip, Mr Stark would have mourned for him all over again. And yeah, technically the cape can't be controlled but uh, he needs an excuse to follow the sorcerer around for a few weeks, ok?

It's not Peter's fault the guy is witty and clever and cunning and a brilliant strategist and oh my god he can help him figure out why his wrists hurt and tell whether it's a fever or a cold and he's flying! Without the webs thanks to the cape! Look, Mr Strange! And can the universe stop dumping him into awkward situations with men so handsome? He has a hard time catching the drool from his mouth. Their intelligence is already a turn on, he can't handle all of this.

Strange finds it endearing, lips inching upwards into something resembling a smile. And the second he does that, the cape whirls around, nearly drops Peter into an experiment and begins clapping excitedly like Stark's daughter when he showed her some magic tricks. He needs to get rid of that cape.

(Mr Strange? Are you alright, you look a bit pale? Or it could be the light? Oh hey! Now you're red! That's good, right? Maybe you touched something weird. I don't see anything on your face, but it's the only area that could be affected since you wore the gloves for the experiment. Hold on, let me take a closer look. It's really dim in this closet. Why did the cape bring us here? Is it taking us to the antidote? Mr Strange, you're getting really red now.

Peter, I highly doubt you need to be this close, I'm fine. I'll be fine once we get out of this infernal-

Was that the door closing? On a room labelled, magic properties weakened inside?

... Yes, that was the door.

Guess we're gonna have to be close now, huh?

Remind me to A) never help Stark with a project again, no matter whether the world hangs in the balance and to B) rip that cloak apart.

You can't do that! Doctor Weird is nice!

I'm sorry, Doctor what?)

Spideychelle, spideychelle.

She calls him her itsy bitsy spider constantly. Like, that's his contact name.

Ned is grumpy because I was here first. But then he sees how cute they are and admits that fine. She can have Wednesday and Thursday. Mr Stark has Saturdays and Tuesdays. He has Monday and Friday. Peter has Sunday off. Sometimes.

Peter crafts gifts using his webs, intricate flowers and careful handwriting on her window so the light hits just right and she can read the messages on the floor thanks to the shadows. If her favorite jacket, the one in ffh, continues ripping on the side, a web immediately flies to hold it together. It's the new rage in the school.

For the first few weeks, it's a bit hesitant. And then she says fuck it, gently pushes him to the floor, climbs on top and naps away. May finds them snoring, legs entangled and limbs askew. Peter holds her as gently as possible like that, careful with the superstrength and she makes sure to never put too much pressure on his chest so it doesn't remind him of the vulture or the weight of a building caving in his ribcage.

They go to Halloween as a trio. Ned may be jealous every once in a while but he's a good bro so instead of going as a pair with Peter, he finds costumes that go well with one more person.

They kiss and it's not electric. Not fireworks. It's the fizzle stars they light up in front of Mj's house, warmth shared in a puppy pile, soft sweaters and even softer curls. It's nice, makes him content and never overwhelmed. It's perfect, really. Romance doesn't have to be an uncontrollable inferno. It can be this too, a slow but steady fire keeping him alive 365 days a year.

[spidey-chelles]

I really like you. I really like you, too.

[you-guys--are-losers]

Spideychelle Week: Day Six!

//Second to last day, fam! Thanks to @spideychelleweek for the week of incredible creativity and stepping out of our comfort zones, because I was initially nervous about writing this and now I am SO ready. You guys down for this crap? Because guess what: today is College AU day! 

I wrote one of these before, but we’re gonna try another, and I’m going to use a prompt this time! I’m using a prompt from @veronicabunchwrites again, and this time it’s from their lovely list of college aus!

So, the prompt I’m using is this: “I post an ad looking for someone to be my model for my art project and the interviewing process has been a little awkward until you answer it.” I changed it a bit, just because I’m not comfortable writing someone fully nude, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do a little bit of spicy writing. ;)

Summary: MJ is having a hard time finding a model, so when Peter Parker volunteers to do it for her, MJ is extremely grateful. She’s known him since they went to high school together, so it shouldn’t be too hard, right? 

But as soon as MJ sees those abs, she realizes that nothing about this is going to be easy for her. 

Characters: Michelle Jones x Peter Parker

Word Count: 4,399

Warnings: Sexual tension, college-age stupidity, nervous quips, partial nudity

Sculpted

Screw this,” MJ mutters, shoving her phone away from her and leaning her head back on their couch with a groan.

One of her hands rises to her forehead, shoving her hair back from her face in a frustrated movement as she closes her eyes. “I’m dropping out of art school. I guess I’m gonna have to settle for the lame shit you losers are doing.” 

“You mean computer programming?” Ned hums from the futon across their apartment, not looking up from his laptop. “Yeah, sounds reasonable. I mean, it’s kind of a fallback, major, but, y’know…”

“We both know that after some of the modifications I made to the Bugsuit, I would have no problem getting a scholarship,” MJ points out, still not opening her eyes. In any other setting, with any other group of people, she knows it would sound conceited. But her loser roommates know that she’s screwing with them, and more importantly, they know she’s right. 

“What is it this time?” Peter pipes up, and MJ’s eyes open as he returns from the kitchen with the industrial-sized bag of gummy worms they’ve been working on for a week. “Shading? Digital perspectives? Visualizing a room layout?” He plops down on the other end of the couch, swiping the remote from between them and quickly switching the show from the later seasons of Parks and Rec to The Office. It’s been a running feud between roommates the past few weeks, but MJ is too irritated with her work to even acknowledge it tonight. 

“No,” MJ responds morosely, leaning across the couch to steal a few of the sour, sugary gummies from the bag before she settles back in to explain. “It’s not even the art. It’s the prep, which is not the part I was expecting to have trouble with.” 

“What are you working on?” Ned asks, eyes seizing upon Creed and Meredith as he asks the question. “Is it another of those digital ones? I like those.” 

“No, this one’s an oil painting,” MJ answers, leaning her head on the armrest as she allows herself to sink into the show. “But it’s supposed to be a figure drawing partially in the nude, and-”

Ned’s eyes widen across the room, and a strangled cough of alarm escapes his throat as he whirls to look at her. MJ doesn’t have to look across the couch to know Peter is doing the same-- the sound of the gummy worm bag dropping to the floor more than confirms it for her. 

“It’s just a waist-up of a male model, you testosterone-fuelled monkeys,” MJ remarks simply, taking advantage of the moment to steal the remote Peter has just set down. The two stop staring at her like she has just sprouted another set of arms as she switches the show to Parks and Rec again, and Ned lets out a slow whistle in relief. “Well, if I could find one, anyway.” 

“What do you mean?” Peter says slowly. 

MJ lets out a puff of air through her nose as she settles down again, allowing the beautiful sight of Amy Poehler in a lime-green pantsuit to relax her. Yes… That’s better. Leslie Knope is all that MJ will ever need to calm down. 

“I can’t get anyone to pose for me,” she replies after a moment, letting her eyes close again as she explains. “I need someone with fairly defined chest muscles, since we’re supposed to be working on the shading of human muscle. You’d think it would be easy to find someone with all of the guys I see in the gym every morning, so I put up an ad on the bulletin board asking if anyone was interested.” 

“Oh, yeah, I think I saw that,” Ned says slowly. “Betty pointed it out on the way back from pilates.” 

“You’re doing pilates with Betty?” Peter asks incredulously. “Dude, I don’t even know what that is.” 

“Pilates is what you do when you love someone,” Ned replies sagely, causing MJ to let out a soft groan. 

“Gross,” she comments. “I’d think that you’d be fine without the gym, considering the amount of tonsil tennis you two play. You’re practically Serena and Venus.” 

Peter draws in a sharp breath, and a sudden outburst of coughing fit ensues as Peter nearly inhales a gummy worm. Between the sounds of their best friend hacking up a lung, Ned’s eyes narrow, and he shoots her a look. “Continue with your story about how you’re trying to get a guy half-naked, then.” 

“Gladly.” 

After Peter is no longer in danger of asphyxiating, MJ lays out her dilemma. “The problem is that I can’t get anyone who’s serious about it. All of the messages I’ve been getting have been assholes who think I’m looking for a hookup. Please… Like this is some high schooler’s YA story.” 

“I mean, it does sound kind of sexual,” Ned points out. “I think the words ‘nude model’ will do that for you, even if it’s just above the waist.”

Peter lets out a final sigh as he catches his breath, closing the bag of gummy worms. MJ tries to feel bad that she may have killed his gummy worm craving for the evening, but really, she’s just glad there’s more left for her. She’s expecting him to make some comment about how none of them checked to see if he would be okay, and she is already preparing her comeback (“Please, Parker. We know we don’t have to worry about your super-esophagus.”) when he says something that catches her completely off-guard.

“I mean… I could do it.” 

MJ’s eyes fly open, and both MJ and Ned turn to him in shock. Peter’s eyes widen as he finds himself the object of both of their attention at once, and he raises his hands defensively. “What?” he stammers. “I’ve got muscles!” 

“I know,” Ned says, speaking up before MJ has to, “but that’s just… Weird. I think MJ wants to draw, like, a statue-bod kinda guy.” 

Peter’s cheeks heat up, and he looks slightly miffed now. “I can lift a bus, in case you forgot,” he points out, his tone slightly flustered. “And-and I held a ferry boat together.” 

“For, like, two seconds,” Ned muses. 

Before Peter can fire back, however, the unthinkable word drops from MJ’s lips: 

“Okay.” 

Both of them turn to her this time, and now she is the focus of shocked attention. Her cheeks heat up, and MJ turns to the TV, fixing her eyes on the screen and praying they take it for nonchalance.

“What did you just say?” Ned stammers. 

“I said he can do it,” MJ replies, forcing any breathiness out of her voice. “This thing is due in two weeks, I need a model yesterday. And if I don’t have to deal with guys sliding into my DMs and getting my hopes up, that’s a bonus.” 

For a minute, things are quiet. Then, finally, Peter says, “Okay. When do we start?” 

MJ glances away from the TV and makes eye contact with Peter, trying not to notice his bright red ears and the slight catch in his voice. For a minute, she nearly forgets to answer his question. “You can show up to the studios on Friday at four, if that works. Um, unless it doesn’t. I could also do Saturday, or Sunday… Or, um, Monday, right. Because that’s what comes next-” 

“No, uh, Friday works,” Peter interrupts, running a hand through his hair. They both look away at the same time, and for a second silence stretches out as they vehemently avoid looking at one another. MJ tries to focus on the beautiful goddess that is Leslie Knope, but after about thirty seconds she finally gets up. 

“I’m gonna head to bed early,” she decides, not looking at either of them as she chucks the remote at Ned. It narrowly misses his head, and Ned fumbles with it for a moment before catching it. This gives MJ the time she needs to make a quick exit, and then her bedroom door shuts behind her, and she is alone. 

In the dim light of her room, MJ quickly changes into a pair of sweats and a loose t-shirt, trying not to think about what just happened. Nothing happened, she reminds herself as she slides under the covers of her bed, shoving her head onto her pillow. I have a model. That’s it. 

It’s not weird; it shouldn’t be. They’ve been friends since high school, and MJ has seen him in that stupid suit enough times to know that his muscles are developed. It’s not anything uncomfortable. 

But still, the voice in her head whispers, you’ve never had to focus exclusively on the abs. And the pecs. And the obliques, and the- MJ shuts that train of thought down with a frustrated groan. 

Whatever. Peter is attractive; she’s known that since high school. It’s not new, and it’s not weird to admit it. It would be weirder if she denied it. She’s not blind; I mean, she’d expect him to admit she’s attractive, too, because she knows she is. It’s just objective truth. 

Why, then, does the idea of him admitting that fill her with tingly warmth? 

No, nope. Bed. It’s bedtime. MJ repeats it over and over again in her head, Bed time, bed time, for the better part of ten minutes. 

When she finally falls asleep, MJ dreams of brush strokes and blending and oil paint sliding across her skin, of painting on a canvas of freckles and stretch marks and dimples as fingers massage pigment into the contours of her body, making it permanent. 

-

Friday comes with a vengeance, seeming to hurtle into existence a million times faster than any day has before. 

It probably helps that, over the course of the week, MJ forces herself to think of anything but Friday. She focuses herself on schoolwork, social life, and her two best friends, who luckily make everything return to normal the morning after the decision has been made. 

The project fades into Ned’s distant memory, and Peter doesn’t bring it up at all over the course of the week’s antics. In fact, with how little they even mention school, MJ wouldn’t have been surprised if Peter forgets to even show up. 

But, sure enough, 2:00 finds MJ in her favorite studio in the building, and 2:03 brings Peter Parker into the room. He finds MJ there, with a canvas on an easel, setting up her paints and her pallet. Across from the canvas is an old sofa, something that she found in the back of the studio and figured would serve their purposes. The windows of the studio are open to let in natural light, and the sofa is positioned beneath a skylight in a way that will allow her to paint him with lighting from the angle she wants. 

“Um, hi,” he greets her, offering her a grin. The smile relaxes MJ because it is familiar. It is dorky and earnest and slightly sheepish, and all of those things are so Peter that she knows this will be alright. 

“‘Sup, loser,” she greets, nodding in his direction before returning to her pallet. She’s wearing old painting clothes, and her hair is pulled back into a messy sort of ponytail that will keep it out of her face while she works. She has a habit of getting herself a little bit streaked with paint when she’s not paying attention, and it’s a pain to get out of her hair. 

Peter begins to walk around the room, studying the various tools and the setup. MJ has to keep herself from subtly observing him as he does it, even though she wants to take in the endearing wonder written on his face. 

“This place is cool,” he comments, his voice relaxed and curious as he studies a posing chart hanging on the wall behind her. “Do you come here a lot?” 

“For most of my projects, yeah,” MJ hums. “It’s my favorite studio, so I may or may not have started a rumor that someone died in here so it’s always available.” 

Peter snorts in amusement behind her, and though MJ isn’t looking, she can’t keep away a grin now. “Why didn’t you ask the ghost to pose for you?” he asks. 

“Well, it was an axe murder, so that might be a bit messy.” 

Peter laughs for real this time, and then for a moment, they lapse into a comfortable silence. Peter watches as MJ begins mixing her highlight, and then he queries, “So… How do you wanna do this?” 

MJ is careful to control her urge to stiffen. Right… This is why they’re both here. It’s no big deal. 

“Um, right,” she breathes, glancing at him for a moment before returning to the pallet. “So you can, uh, take your shirt off.” 

“You’re not gonna buy me dinner first?” Peter jokes. His cheeks are pink, however, and his voice is slightly constricted as he pulls his shirt off, and MJ hears the fabric drop to the floor. It takes all of the self-control in her body to refrain from looking. 

“Nah, not unless you want the cold paella in my bag,” she hums. “I think it’s from, like, yesterday.” 

“I’ll pass,” Peter comments, and MJ grins. For a second, she forgets about her situation and looks up. 

Craaaaap. 

To preface: MJ knew that Peter was kind of jacked. She has seen the muscles through the suit before, has seen them in action on Youtube videos, whatever. She is supposed to be prepared. 

She is most certainly not. Nothing could prepare her for this. 

Her eyes find it immediately: Peter Parker’s muscular chest, standing before her in all its glory. His jeans ride slightly low on his hips, meaning that the ‘v’ of his abdomen is what catches her eye first, more defined than it was on any of the example sketches. She hurriedly drags her eyes away from that, up higher, but that isn’t any better. If she looks there, she has to focus on the clearly defined abs that are staring her in the face, begging her to touch them to see if they’re as firm as they look. It doesn’t get any less defined as her eyes travel up his body, to defined pecs and muscular arms that cause her to swallow, quickly looking anywhere else. 

Finally, her eyes find his face. Peter’s cheeks are pink, but his gaze is awfully intense as it meets her own, causing her heart to pound faster than it already was. 

“I- Uh- Um, right,” MJ stammers, forcing her eyes to give him a quick once-over as if she was only examining them from an artistic standpoint. “Alright. Yep, that’ll do.” In her own ears, her voice sounds an octave too high as she begins to mix the colors on the pallet, not looking up. “You can, uh, sit on the couch, I’ll tell you how to position yourself-” 

“MJ.” 

Peter’s voice interrupts her, and MJ can barely breathe as she looks up. When she does, he’s grinning sheepishly. “Shouldn’t I get oiled up first?” 

It’s a bad joke, but it causes MJ to laugh anyway. She’s grateful to think about something, anything other than the muscles that seem to be calling her name, the ones she’s somehow going to have to depict without being blinded by all of their splendor.

“Shut up, loser,” she instructs as she continues mixing. “If you keep talking, I’m gonna charge you a commission fee.”

“I’m the one doing this for you,” he points out playfully as he takes a seat on the sofa. “It’s not like I want to hang this in my room.” 

“Why not? It’ll be a tasteful layout. We’ll do some pin-up poses.” MJ examines him, and for a moment, she thinks maybe she can do this. “Alright. I want you to turn a little to your right, but keep your legs straight. Then flex for me.” She’s got this. 

Peter obeys her, and MJ’s blood rushes to her head. 

Nope. Nope. She does not got this. 

After he’s in place, MJ busies herself with getting music playing on her phone. She needs something, anything to occupy her mind as she does this. “Sunflower” by Post Malone starts playing, and almost immediately, MJ relaxes. She looks up, and this time, she manages to keep her cool as she studies the shade of his skin tone. Sure, she’s never gonna be able to unsee this, but for now, she can do it. 

After she’s mixed the paint, they settle into a rhythm, and then MJ loses herself in the work. She is completely focused on the art: the colors, the blending, the highlights, how she wants to do the shadow. Each stroke is precise, intentional… Everything is exactly where she wants it, and every step is clear to her. 

Sure, the muscles are rather lovely. But as long as she steels herself before looking up, she manages to keep herself from drooling over them for as long as it takes her to make a quick assessment and return to the work. 

The muscles are a new variable, something she hasn’t had to battle with before. But the work? The work she knows, the work she understands. Its beat is one she has heard a million times, and it carries her along with ease. 

An hour or so passes, with the silence stretching on comfortably. Every so often, Peter warns her that he has a muscle cramp, and MJ watches carefully so that she can guide him back to the position after he’s adjusted a bit. Peter is a good model. Sure, he has to move a bit more than most of the people they’ve painted in studies, but he also doesn’t complain. He just follows her direction, letting his eyes wander the room or sometimes close as he soaks in the sun. 

And, every so often, MJ wonders if she can feel those eyes on her. 

It’s about half an hour in when MJ looks up from her canvas, really looks, for the first time since she posed him. There are flecks of paint all over her fingers and upper arm from where she carefully used a nail to remove an excess of pain, or just from when she forgot about the pallet in her hand while adjusting the canvas and supplies as the light changed. Her hair is determined to escape from her ponytail, it seems, and it hovers on the edge of her vision in several curly tendrils that she ignores. She knows she makes faces while she’s concentrating, and between the paint on her clothes, hands, and a spot by her temple where she brushed away some hair, the stiffness of her body and neck, and the mess of her hair, MJ knows she looks disheveled. 

That’s why, when she looks up and find him studying her like he’s been studying the beautiful prints of art on the walls, she stops still. 

His eyes, when they meet hers, hold the warmth that makes them Peter’s, but they also hold something else. Whatever it is in insistent, piercing as it works its way to her through their shared gaze, and penetrating as it seems to search her from head to toe. 

Whatever it is takes her breath away. 

MJ draws in a sharp breath, and her sudden change of posture causes Peter to stiffen, too. His eyes go wide upon the realization that he has been caught staring. However, he doesn’t look away. After balking for a moment, his gaze actually becomes more intense, almost as though he is determined to prove himself. 

MJ sets down her brush, and Peter’s eyes track her motion expectantly as she turns to look back at him again. 

“Peter,” she finally says, her tone tight and controlled. 

“Yeah?” Something earnest enters his eyes, then his voice, too, as he waits for her to respond. 

“You moved.” 

When he realizes what she means, his face falls for a fraction of a second before he becomes composed again. “O-oh, right. Um, let me just-” He attempts to take up his former position, and MJ busies herself comparing it with the likeness on canvas in order to ignore the warmth in her cheeks. After looking from his position, to the painting, and then back to him again, MJ shakes her had. 

“Not quite,” she says slowly. “You need to twist more at the waist.” 

Peter attempts to angle his body more to the side, but he still is twisting his upper body more than his lower body. MJ watches, then shakes her head again, biting her lip. “Nah, it’s more-- here.” 

MJ sets her pallet on the floor and strides over to the sofa. She is painfully, painfully aware of the amount of Peter’s bare skin in front of her, bright in the golden sun, but she struggles to ignore it as she sits on the ground in front of him and raises her hand to hover in front of his abs. 

“You need to twist more here,” she says, gesturing to the muscles. 

He’s already moving, however, so rather than her gesture hovering in front of him, her loose hand crashes into his muscles. MJ’s eyes widen as her the palm of her hand presses against his lower abdomen, and her whole body stiffens for a moment before she can register that she should pull back. The muscles are warm beneath her fingertips, solid and firmer than she could have imagined. 

“MJ-” 

She pulls her hand back immediately, but a sinking feeling enters her chest as she realizes what happened. Her paint-covered fingertips have left smears of paint across his skin, the highlight that MJ was attempting to scrape off her knife with a nail before she looked up. The paint clings to him, and instinctively, MJ reaches out to brush it away. 

All she succeeds in doing is rubbing it in further with fingertips that dance across his skin. MJ can barely breathe, and her head is spinning as she tries again, only making it worse. “Shit, Parker, I’m sorry,” she stammers, shaking her head. The loose curls go flying, and a few brush against his skin from where she is seated. “I forgot about it, let me get-” 

“MJ.” 

Slowly, MJ raises her eyes to his, her breath caught in her throat. 

Peter is staring down at her, his lips slightly parted as his eyes scan her countenance. His cheeks are crimson, and he still looks like her loser as he blinks several times, taking a sharp breath as his eyes explore her face. There is awe in his eyes, and a hesitant gleam, as he looks down at her. She can’t look away, can’t breathe, can’t even move her paint-covered hand from where it lingers on his abs. 

Peter opens his mouth to speak, then closes it. His hand finds her other hand, one with streaks of wet paint on the palm where she was testing colors. The paint transfers from her hand to his as he links their fingers together, and she exhales as their fingers lace into a lattice. 

“You have paint all over you, now,” she breathes, blinking once, then twice. 

Peter swallows, his eyes not moving. He looks as if he regrets even having to blink as he drinks in her eyes. “Then…” His voice falters, and so Peter swallows and tries again in a voice that is slightly raspy, catching in his throat. 

“Then what’s the harm in a little bit more?” 

Before she knows it, MJ is standing, and Peter’s hand in hers helps guide her to her feet. She does not let go of his hand. The fingers on his skin dance across his lower chest experimentally as she looks into his eyes, leaving little trails of pale pink in their wake. Her eyes don’t leave his, and his skin is warm underneath her fingers as her hand travels greedily up his chest, taking its sweet time. Peter’s eyes flutter shut and he leans into th contact, breath hitching whenever her touch grows heavier.

Finally, after she has explored his chest in detail, her arm snakes around his neck. Her hand plows a path through his hair, lightly tugging on the curls to bring him closer to her as she leans down slightly. Her lips crash into his, then, and their linked hands rise as Peter tugs his free to cup her face. Paint kisses her cheekbone as Peter caresses it with a thumb, and her other hand is happy to join the first in flecking his brown locks with pink and white. His other hand impatiently pulls her hair free of the ponytail, causing her to hum against his lips, tipping her head so that their lips fit together more closely. 

For one slow, delicious moment, MJ drinks him in, and he does the same for her. The kiss is insistent and intense, and more than anything, it’s an exploration. Her lips learn the dance of his own soft ones, and his hand traces the contours of her face, blazing its own line of highlight across her cheek and down her jaw. 

Finally, when they both need to come up for air, MJ breaks the kiss apart. Her breath comes in greedy gasps, drinking in the air of the studio as the golden light sinks into their skin, turning the shadows longer. The paint is cool and prickly on her skin as it begins to draw, and a smile crosses MJ’s swollen lips as she drinks in the strange sensation, eyes closed. 

“Told you you should’ve oiled me up.” 

Peter’s cheeky comment causes a laugh to leave MJ’s lips, closely followed by an insistent hum and she dives in for more. 

Maybe she has a project she should be working on… But, then, MJ has found a new canvas, and one that she much prefers. After all, Peter Parker really is a masterpiece… And MJ looks forward to studying every shadow, every contour, and every new perspective of her best friend in detail with her artist’s eye. 

After all, painting may be rewarding, but in the warmth of the studio, MJ decides that when it comes to Peter Parker, she prefers being the canvas to being the artist.

[softboyholland]

hey tumblr i updated like one of my fics 

don’t worry i’m disappointed in myself too

but then i got to thinking and i wrote a whole new multichapter fic and it makes sense kinda so go check it out heres the link 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16681525/chapters/39119218

[bonky-and-steeb]

May: so how did your date with MJ go?

Peter: I-I don't wanna talk about it

May: that bad, huh?

Peter: after dessert she said "this was great, we should have dinner again"

May: that sounds like a good thing though???

Peter: -anD THEN I SAID "NO THANKS, IM FULL"

May:

May: Peter what the fuck??

[i-lovethatforme]

Do you have any thoughts/ theories for the next film? I'm already thinking about it as I actively avoid nwh 😭

me and you and most other people ignoring nwh as we should as we deserve! i have thoughts! super strength mj thoughts! i started writing all kinds of things before i stopped to get all my fix its out the way and ignore the plots these would need so subsequently abandoned - but I'll post some snippets from the worlds i would like. aka idc about anyone other than - spidey mj/ black cat mj /venom mj

you'll see me in hindsight, tangled up with you all night

“Fuck my absolute life,” she wheezes, her arms aching more from the length of time she’s been hanging here than the weight of her body. Ever since she found this suit in her bedroom while she packed to move to college, MJ has been working on advancing it. Trying to piece together why on earth she has it in the first place. She doesn’t remember cosplaying as Spider-Man but the suit looks real enough that she probably spent a lot of money on it. It’s also probably why she purged it from her memory. The web shooters work as well - but when she googled it she found that there were a number of web shooters that can actually function. She didn’t know they came with fluid that stuck to walls but it only helped her recreate the formula when she was bored one night during her first term at college. MJ isn’t sure how her occasionally making modifications to this suit she found ended up with her now hanging between two twelve story high buildings on a thin piece of webbing that she knows is going to disintegrate in the next thirty minutes. It probably has to do with her being followed home a few months ago and being furious because she was terrified. And she shouldn’t be terrified because she should be able to walk home in the dark by herself without the threat of attack. But she can’t. At least not in Boston. Maybe if she still lived in NYC. New York has Spider-Man and albeit the crime was still high, there was an air of comfort walking home knowing you might get saved by the masked hero. Here, she has no one. But she did have a suit. So she thought how hard could it possibly be to be Spider-Man? Noone knows anything about him other than the fact he can climb walls but now so can she with the claws she developed. And he can lift heavy things but now so can she with the hydraulic hinges she sewed to the suit. And he can swing between buildings and now - Well. MJ can’t do that yet. This is why she’s hanging way too high above an alley and she thinks she needs to make further modifications but she can’t do them right now because her shoulders are about to give up and she’ll slowly fall to the ground. Ugh. MJ has tried swinging her legs back and forth but she can’t get the spikes she adhered to the suit to hook into the brick properly. Another thing she would change if she wasn’t about to splatter against the floor. She thinks about the leftover lasagna in the fridge that’s going to go mouldy until someone realises she’s gone and ugggh she just put a load of washing in the dryer and some rando is going to get her underwear. She thinks about her mum and the way she’s going to be heartbroken. She thinks about Ned who would probably think she’s cool as fuck for this but won’t forgive her for dying on him before she told him about it. She thinks about the boy from the coffee shop because she’s always thinking about the boy from the coffee shop. She thinks about - “Hello?” “Holy fuck -” she jolts. Spider-Man peers down at her from the roof and though she can’t see his face, he sounds concerned. “Do you need some help?” “Nah, I like to hang here for fun,” she wheezes, thankful that she fixed the voice modulator so she sounds like she's smoked thirty a day since she was four. “Okay,” they laugh slightly and she thinks fuck them. “Can I help you anyway?”

kill me slowly with your kiss

"I don't get close to people," he whispers as his body pushes her against the wall. His mask is tucked beneath his nose and there's a part of her that knows his lips but if he doesn't want his identity revealed, as she doesn't, she'll avoid tugging on that thread.

"Because it's difficult, or because you don't want to?" she asks. She doesn't care because she'd have to want to get close to him to care and she's not sure that she does. Because her last three missions have failed because he's been right there.

"It doesn't matter," he replies, pressing his lips lightly to her jaw. And as he touches his tongue to her neck, following with a suck of his lips, she figures, no, it doesn't matter.

"My lips are up here, Spider," she says impatiently as he marks her. She wants to tug his face to hers by his hair but she doesn't want him to think she's trying to unmask him when really his suit is so tight there's nothing to grip onto.

He laughs lightly, his whole body shaking with the movement and it's a delightful sound, one she'll replay in about five minutes when he's paralysed from her tranquiliser and she can finally go and get the artwork while Kingpin is out of town.

"Someone's in a rush," he teases and she wants to throw him around, have him being the one pinned to the wall but he's stronger than her and she doesn't want him to figure that out so she lets him hold her there instead. His leg wedged between hers as his lips finally touch hers.

It's softer than she thought it would be, with the way he throws his punches and the way he screams at people - she never knew he could be this soft. But then his tongue is in her mouth, his hand pulling at the roots of her white wig and she feels the tingles all the way to the tips of her toes.

She knows him. She knows his tongue. She knows his hands and his breathy moans and she knows him.

She just doesn't know how.

assume you'll be comin' for blood

Her brain no longer thumps painfully, the pressure fading so it doesn't feel like her head is about to explode. Her eyes are no longer black and that's kinda annoying cause she looked cool as fuck.

A few days ago she thought she was dying, hallucinating as the black inky liquid seeped from her skin and crawled along the floor. She was planning on never leaving the house again, committed to sinking back to the bathroom floor and dying there.

But it's been anywhere between five seconds and four years and she feels better. Ish. she ate eight chocolate bars and she's been talking to the voice in her head. So she's probably insane but she's leaning into it.

Besides, the black liquid makes her strong and it can grab her a can of drink from the fridge without her moving from the couch. Sure, she did end up chewing the head of the pizza delivery guy and that wasn't the best but she and venom have come to an arrangement.

No more delivery guys, no more threatening Mr Delmar.

They're only after Peter Parker.