[you-guys--are-losers]

Spideychelle: Roomates, strangers to lovers, and "Wait, wait, wait. Say that again"

//Of course! Um, so… Your prompt may have sparked another multi-chapter? I just started writing this and realized I want so much more time and space to grow these two, so I hope that you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. ;) Can’t wait to give you future installments. 

Lemme know your AO3, I wanna gift this to ya! 

This is the first time I’ve ever really played around with writing most of the other Avengers, so thank you for giving me that opportunity. I look forward to getting more familiar and comfortable with their characters! :D

Also, thank you to @spiderman-homecomeme​ for being an incredible beta and to all the people who helped me fine-tune this first chapter!//

[1: roommates!au] + [6: strangers to lovers] + [8: “wait, wait, wait. say that again.”] = …

Into the Black

Summary: A new superhuman is brought to the Avengers Compound in the face of a threat caused by telepathic invaders. When Peter is forced to share a suite with her, he finds himself encountering another side of the mysterious newcomer.

…And he learns that her frightening abilities pale in comparison to the way she makes him feel. 

Characters: Michelle Jones x Peter Parker, Tony Stark, May Parker, Ned Leeds, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Col. Rhodes, Wanda Maximoff, Happy Hogan

Word Count: 5,530

Warnings: Mentions of PTSD, Mental Health, Violence

[Read it here on AO3!]

one/

1: All Hands On Deck 

When the invaders arrive, the whole world is turned upside down in an instant.  

Peter doesn’t misread the gravity of the situation; he already is expecting Tony’s call when it comes. He has seen the footage, just like everyone else. The new threat materializes overnight, and it comes with a vengeance.

Two hours is all it takes for the reports to start rolling in. Attacks, robberies, acts of violence within crowds; all of it is accompanied by gritty footage showing the strange nature of the threats.

Even though the attacks take place all over the world– New York City, Chicago, London, Dublin, Bejing, Ho Chi Minh City, Madrid, and more– the perpetrators share a few jarring characteristics. They all appear just like normal humans, there are almost never more than three, and the attacks are always conducted without any physical activity. Instead, reality bends to the will of the invaders, and Peter only has to watch a few of the short video snippets to know what is behind the attacks.

Telepathy.

Keep reading

[spidermaninlove]

'Spider-Man' Shocker: Disney, Sony Striking a Deal for One More Movie

The two studios are once again working together for a film that will bring Tom Holland's superhero back to the big screen.

YES!!!

[spiderman-homecomeme]

Something Old

Part 1 of “And a Silver Sixpence in Her Shoe”

AN: Hey guys! I’m back with another multi-chap, though a much shorter one! This was just an idea I had a few weeks ago and I thought it was too cute not to write. It’s short. It’s sweet. It’s FLUFFY. Get ready for a Spideychelle wedding everyone!!! This story follows the poem: something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue :)

Read here or on AO3

-

Her nails are digging into her palm, one hand clenched while the other taps at her thigh in a hiccuping rhythm as she paces the short stretch of hallway just outside his room. 

This was a bad idea.

Wasn’t it?

No, it was fine. 

If he could do it, so could she. 

The thundering beat of her heart accompanied by the tightness in her chest tells her otherwise. She knows that it’s normal, her body’s own physiological reaction in response to a significant amount of acute stress, something perceived as a threat to her very survival. It was fight or flight, and in that moment, she was leaning more towards the latter. 

Yeah, flight was sounding pretty good right about now.

Keep reading

[mjpeters]

I Don’t Doubt Your Heart by fireaway (12k)

Peter turns to her, and he’s got that proud look in his eyes that makes her heart flutter and her skin tingle. He gives her a smile that can make the whole world stop and stare. And hell, MJ cannot stop staring. He moves towards her, and she feels that she loves him. He presses her into a kiss. She thinks he might know.

5 times MJ could have told Peter she loves him, and the one time she finally did.

(+) listen to the playlist

[forasecondtherewedwon]

35 for the spideychelle prompts?

Two prompts. Two anons. One perfect match. Enjoy, you two!

ApocalypschtickPairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle)Rating: T (mentions of gun violence)Word count: 1322

35. “If a zombie bit you, I’d be heartbroken, but I’d also shoot you twice in the head.”

Ned and MJ don’t have a ton of overlapping interests,Peter’s been finding. Mostly, they’ve had himin common, which is a nice feeling, but has made extended hangoutshit-and-miss; there’s nothing but dead air for his super-hearing to pick up ifhe leaves the two of them alone in a room. He’s worked at tossing increasinglyobscure topics into conversation when the three of them are together―arcingthem in like long tennis serves―just to see if there’s any subject they bothjump on. The most obvious result is Peter finding some weird stuff onWikipedia.

In hindsight, the thing they end up bonding over is one hereally should have predicted. MJ loves death―true crime, film noir,Shakespearean tragedies. Ned loves science fiction―Star Wars, books by H.G. Wells, ALF.Apparently, in between death and sci-fi lies the common ground of apocalypsetheories.

Keep reading

[gonetaelong-deactivated20200109]

Zendaya owns 2019: Spider-Man FFH, her Met Gala look, ZENDAYA x TOMMY HILFIGER COLLECTION, her performance in Euphoria and the song she sang with LABRINTH, her RED HAIR, her multiple photo shoots and looks she’s BEEN serving, etc.

[seek-rest-deactivated20201126]

Spideychelle Month: Day 1

Happy @spideychellemonth !

Here’s my contribution for future!spideychelle day.

Till Forever

Summary:

“So am I Mrs. Parker then? Or are we enlightened enough to hyphenate or whatever?” The switch from melancholy to joy is immediate, causing Michelle to break out into a smile that almost matches Peter's.

“You can call yourself whatever you want, MJ. But you’re in? For real?”

“Yeah you dork, I’m in. Let me know when the landlord wants to meet.”

Read now on AO3

[spiderman-homecomeme]

Can you write about MJ’s internal thoughts as Peter started clearly flirting with /her/ and liking her back and reciprocating? 😍

Hello!! Sorry this took so long, but YES OF COURSE I can write this!! I have been so excited to write this all week and am so glad I can finally share it with you guys!!

It’s been a bit since I’ve seen the movie, so I may not have gotten some of the exact quotes right, and it’s a little brief, but I hope you enjoy!!

Thank you for the lovely request, anon <3

Here is about 1.5k of PURE fluff and a teensy bit of angst

.

.

It takes every ounce of strength MJ has in her hormone riddled teenage body not to visibly show any of the emotional whiplash that comes from Ned asking Betty to swap seats with Peter due to a surprising perfume allergy, to Mr. Harrington hijacking the whole switcheroo and subsequently placing her right next to Brad Davis. She doesn’t even have time to imagine What Could Have Been™, no time to feel the slight sting of disappointment of not getting to sit next to her dumb crush, before her teacher basically forces a game of musical chairs onto them, Ned now in her old spot next to Betty, Peter sandwiched between both chaperones, and of course, herself next to Brad. 

It could certainly be worse, she figures. Mr. Harrington could have made her sit next to Flash, or something. Brad’s nice enough. He’s smart, pretty funny on occasion, and she’d be lying if she said that he wasn’t at least a little bit attractive. She had eyes, she wasn’t blind; the boy was more than easy on the eyes.

But she didn’t like him like that.

He didn’t have that same cute, boyish charm.

He didn’t fill her with those same, stupid, bubbly nerves.

And he was no Peter Parker.

Keep reading

[bluearrow126]

I LOVE THIS SONG

[spideyxchelle]

post ffh-fic

He heard the shouting of civilians beneath the lamp post he was perched on as his world fell apart. For all of his superhero abilities, he could not block out the array of accusations and curses of snarling New Yorkers. The city was his home. For years, he had protected his neighborhood, nearly died for it, too, and in one foul swoop Quentin Beck had planted a seed of distrust that bloomed in an instant.

His heartrate spiked violently. He felt like he might pass out.

“People will believe anything these days. You’ll see,” Beck had said, as he lay dying. He did not understand, then, what the illusion master meant. He had chalked it up to the incoherent ramblings of a dying man. He should have been more vigilant.

Everything was ruined. His entire life. His friends and family were now open season. Ned. May. MJ.

MJ.

Keep reading

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Spideychelle as parents?

Here it comes―the fluffnami I warned you all about on Monday. You’ve officially waited too long to seek higher ground. The fluff is coming.

Kid-Me-NotPairing: Peter x Michelle (Spideychelle), Ned x Betty (Netty Pot)Rating: T (a very smol swear)Word count: 2060

They think about moving every year, but so far they haven’t.Peter knows it’s both of them, not just him, because sometimes he catches hiswife staring at a particular facet of their apartment, and when she looks athim, he goes, “I know,” and she makes a face like it’s doubtful that he’s readher mind.

The farthest out of the city they get on a regular basis isBetty and Ned’s corner of suburbia. Peter likes the drive and his wife likesthe mature trees, but not the ‘1950s American Dream capitalist bullshit vibe,’as she calls it. She also likes the blonde-bricked houses and Peter takes hisfoot off the gas whenever they pass one so that she has longer to admire themwithout having to state her preference out loud.

Keep reading

[agentbarton12]

Fantasy AU

Spideychelle Week — Day 7

AN: this is a day late, i know, i had no internet till today but i wanted to get this out. 3.4k words.

Summary: There’s a princess, a tower, a knight-in-shining armour and a dragon.

~•~•~•~•

He hadn’t always been up there.

There was a time where Peter was among the world just like everyone else.

Peter had been in this tower for five years of his life. He wouldn’t necessarily say he was ‘trapped’ because, the truth was, he put himself there. And even as he was going on twenty-one, he never regretted it.

He was not exactly waiting for anyone to rescue him—in fact, he was quite content with staying there for the rest of his life. The only thing that made Peter really want to leave, was his sister.

Peter thought about her everyday since he’d been there. All he hoped was that she was okay, safe and alive. Morgan was his everything, and the only thing that made staying there worth it.

The location of the tower was unknown to Peter. He remembers how he got there, just not where there was. He has assumed it was on the outskirts of Midgard, the land he hails from, far out enough that the only way you’d find it was if you stumbled upon it on accident.

There had been no accidents.

Even now, with the case of the crashing dragon, there had been no accidents.

Peter was up in the make-shift baths, washing body when he heard a sputtering sound from outside. Blaming it on his exhaustion from staying up all night tinkering with old parts of amour.

The sputtering sounds continued, but Peter ignored them enough to put his trousers on and undershirt.

Then, the wall near the window blew open and bricks flew all around the room. Smoke and dust clouded Peter’s sight as he hacked and coughed. The sputtering sound continued till it died down and quieted.

When the dust settled, Peter’s eyes laid upon the strangest and most spectacular contraptions he had ever seen in his life.

Peter had seen dragons—he owned a few before the tower—and he was quite fascinated by them. But, this, this was no dragon.

It had wings, bronze, metal wings that spanned across most of the room. The other one seemed to be twisted at an awkward angle underneath the body of the contraption. The body was smaller than that of a real dragon. It too was made of metal, but, of course, it had to be a lightweight one. If this machine did what Peter thought it did, it had to be as light as possible.

Peter walked closer to the machine and ran his hand on the outer side of it. It was not cold like Peter expected. It was quite hot and Peter had to draw his hand back because of it. He stepped back slightly, clutching his hand and staring at the machine in awe.

He hadn’t noticed the fire, but he jumped back behind the bath just in time as what must have been the power source for the contraption exploded.

Luckily, it wasn’t a big explosion and Peter came out with no scars, only his trousers were covered in soot.

From his place behind the bath, Peter heard creaking from the machine and he peaked over the top of the bath to inspect what was happening.

He saw a panel of the ‘dragon’s’ body lift up and was pushed away. A hatch, Peter observed. What was surprised him was what this meant. A person was inside the machine.

He watched as two arm popped out from the inside of the machine and pulled up a body. A girl.

She was wearing goggles and her messy brown hair framed her face as she wiggled herself out the contraption. Peter had no idea how she was not affected by the heat, but stayed quiet.

The girl jumped down from the ‘dragon’ and looked around her.

“Crap,” she cursed. “Ned’s gonna be pissed.” She was tall and lean, meaning that where she was sitting had to have a lot of room.

It was then that Peter stood up fully and cleared his throat. The girl’s head whipped around to face him. “Uh, hi.”

Her eyes squinted dangerously, and before he knew it, he was flying, hitting one of the still standing walls, and was being pinned against it.

“Who are you?” she demanded, one of her hands held out in front of her, facing him. It clicked in Peter’s mind. “Answer me,” she growled, before dropping her hand, and Peter with it.

He grunted when he landed. “Peter. My name is Peter.”

He didn’t dare get up, afraid that she’d use magic against him again.

“And what are you doing here?” she asked.

“I live here.”

The fire in her eyes dimmed as she relaxed slightly. But, in its place, flashed what looked like recognition. “Oh. Sorry. You can get up.”

He does as she said and dusts himself off. “Uh, who are you?”

She studies him for a moment before answering, “MJ. And I’ve come to rescue you. You’re welcome.”

“Uh, thank you?” She flashed him a mischievous grin that unnerved Peter.

MJ turned on her heel and went to inspect the damage down to her machine. Peter watched curiously.

“What is that?” he asked as she pulled off a piece of metal and threw it away behind her. Peter had never seen anything like it before.

“Aircraft,” she said, pushing against the side of the machine, seemingly trying to get it to turn over in order to see the other wing. “But,” she heaved, “a new and improved model.”

At that moment, the tip of the wing fell off with a clang. MJ rolled her eyes. “Okay, not that new. My friend, he…modified it.”

“It flies?” Peter asked in awe. Of course, he suspected that was the purpose of the machine, but having it confirmed was a bigger deal. Before he was in the tower, the flying machine was something but a fantasy. A tale old and drunken men would tell to any willing ear. Peter had always dreamed of seeing one, but since being here, he let go of any hope to see the outside world and its creations.

MJ nodded, turning around to push the aircraft with her back. “It’s still an aircraft. The wings and overall dragon-esque additions make it easier to blend in.”

Peter nodded, still marveling at the contraption. “How does it work?”

“Like an aircraft,” she deadpanned. “Engine, fuel; all that boring engineering rubbish I never bothered to learn. You seem awfully surprised, have you never seen one?” Peter shook his head no. “By Odin’s beard! How have you not?”

He shrugged. “I don’t get out much.”

“I can tell.”

Peter had many more questions—most to do with the mechanics behind the aircraft—but, before he could ask any of them, MJ had managed to push the aircraft out of the tower and fell to ground with a resounding crash!

MJ and Peter both rushed to the edge of the tower to inspect what happened. Peter’s mouth was agape in shock and MJ almost looked guilty. “Oops.”

“How did you push that? I mean, obviously, it can’t be too heavy ‘cause it needs to be light enough to fly and everything, but it must be heavy.”

If MJ had an answer, she did not enlighten Peter with one. Instead, she walked back into the room and paced around with her hands on her hips, muttering something Peter could not make out. Out of nowhere, she whipped her head around and faced him.

“We need to get out of here.”

Peter scratched his neck nervously. “Uh…I, uh, can’t.”

She gave him a look of disbelief, that consisted of squinted eyes and furrowed brows. “What do you mean? I’m here to rescue you, remember?”

“Yeah, but I’m not in danger.”

MJ looked around her with her hands on her hips. “Well, you’re locked in a tower, not wearing a proper shirt, and you’re severely underfed—when was the last time you ate?”

It was then that Peter realised that he was underdressed and he blushed furiously before looking around for his t-shirt. He found it had been scorched and was covered in soot.

“Crap,” he muttered.

“See? Another reason for you to come with me.”

“Well, what would make you think I was locked here and just not leaving?”

“Uh, the fact that there is a literal moat outside and the front door is bolted shut, you have no windows—at least none you could fit through—and, you look like you haven’t eaten in ages.”

Peter subconsciously looked down at his body and noticed that he was on the small side in comparison to MJ and that he couldn’t recall the last proper meal he ate no matter how hard he tried. But, he couldn’t exactly leave—not if Morgan was still hiding.

“Listen, princess, I’m rescuing you and there is no debate, okay. Some guy sent me and he’s paying a lot of money for you, so can we please go now? I’m hungry.”

“Wait, what guy?”

MJ shrugged as she walked back to the edge of the building. “Some Stark person. Said he’s been looking for you for a while, but he heard from a friend who heard from a friend that I was an amazing tracker. And I am. I found you. I didn’t stick around for the story, though.”

He stood frozen. Stark. He knew Stark. Tony was his mentor back when he had a life outside the tower. He taught him everything he knew about mechanics and engineering, and spark his interest in it. Peter knew there was no way he would ever forget about him, as he was part if the reason he was in the tower, but Peter had always thought he would him.

Guess he was wrong.

With this new knowledge, Peter hoped the reason Tony was looking for him, was because everything that forced him into hiding in the first place was taken care of.

And that his sister was safe.

He snapped out of his stupour when MJ whistled for his attention. “Ride’s here.”

Flying just a few metres away from the edge was the most majestic creature Peter had ever seen. He breathed out in awe. Obviously, the seeing the aircraft was a dream come true, but this, this, beast, topped everything.

“That’s a pegasus,” he breathed out. And it was. Covered in creamy white fur, the winged horse seemed almost ethereal. Its wings shone blue in the sunlight and the mane of the creature flew back in the wind. She was beautiful.

Now, MJ fixed him with what Peter could only describe as his aunt’s ‘don’t be daft, Peter’ looks. “Yes, it is.” She faced the horse again and spoke, “Nice, Karen, c’mere.”

Karen neighed and shook her head.

MJ rolled her eyes. “What, are you mad at me? For what?”

Peter had no idea if the horse was actually speaking and MJ could understand, or if she was just guessing, but the sight was too fascinating for Peter to care.

Karen neighed again and dropped her head down in the direction of the fallen aircraft.

“I didn’t want to take it! Ned had just made some modifications and was ‘so sure this time’ that he didn’t give me a choice but to take it. If it was up to me, you know I’d take you.”

The horse lifted her head, satisfied with the praise she was receiving and flew into the building and landed near MJ.

“That’s a good girl,” MJ cooed as she approached her pegasus and caressed its face. She then turned to Peter. “Big ego. Just shower her with compliments and she’ll do anything you say.”

Karen didn’t seem to like that and blew air into MJ’s face. “I was kidding!”

Peter, still mesmerised, spoke breathlessly, “She’s yours?” MJ nodded. “But, wouldn’t that mean that—Oh, my god, you’re a Valkyrie!”

“And we have a winner!” MJ said sarcastically. “Hop on.”

Peter was still wrapping his head around everything that was happening. “This is crazy! I can’t believe this! I mean, this is crazy!”

“You already said that,” MJ pointed out, somewhat amused.

He paid no mind to her comment. “My mentor’s friend knew a Valkyrie! He would tell me and my sister stories about you guys all the time when he was around!”

“Who?”

“Thor.”

“Who?”

“My mentor’s friend.”

“No, I meant the Valkyrie, princess,” she said with an eye roll.

“Oh. Uh, Brunnhilde, I think.”

MJ hummed in recognition. “She’s the friend who spoke to Stark’s friend. So, I’m going to assume that Stark is your mentor and this Thor guy’s the friend?” Peter nodded. “Nice. Now, princess, get on the horse, please.”

“You gonna keep calling me princess?” he asked as he neared the creature. He hesitantly raised his hand to touch Karen’s neck. It was the softest thing he had ever felt.

MJ shrugged next to him. “Well, you’re in a tower and I’m rescuing you. So, yeah, you’re my princess.”

Peter ignored the blush that rose in his face and the strange feeling in his chest at her words. He tentatively rested one hand on Karen’s back and she tucked her wing in for him to mount. After a few tries and a couple snickers from MJ, he managed to make it on.

Without a word—and far more grace—Peter’s rescuer mounted her pegasus. She sat in front of Peter and he was unsure what to do with his hands. He assumed he would have to hold onto her, but he did not want to overstep his boundaries.

“Might want to hold on, princess.”

And he did.

Then, Karen took to the sky.

Peter had never been in the sky before and he did not have enough experiences to compare it to that would do feeling justice. So, he settles on the fact that he had never smiled so much in his life than he was in that moment.

MJ’s wild curls flew into his face, but he was not bothered by them in the slightest. Karen dipped and dived and it threw Peter’s stomach into his throat, before dropping it back.

It was amazing.

Peter does not know how long they flew for, but they landed too soon in his opinion. The sun was beginning to set and it cast a beautiful hue of oranges and reds across the sky.

Karen touched down outside what seemed to Peter like a pub. MJ descended and so did Peter. After talking to the horse, MJ dismissed her and allowed her to fly around for a bit. ‘Stretch her wings’.

Still in shock from what he had just experienced, Peter had to be forcefully dragged by MJ into what turned out to be a restaurant and not a pub. It was not full to the brim, but it had a fair amount of patrons that the shop was filled with noise. He let her lead him to a table where she sat opposite him, and even as she ordered food for both of them, Peter said nothing.

It must’ve been bothering MJ, because eventually she nudged him under the table. “Breathe, princess.”

He let out a breath. “That was incredible.” MJ shrugged. “I cannot believe you get to do that all the time.”

“You get used to it. The first couple of times, I felt like you. But, eventually you realise that fighting in a battle with a giddy feeling of ‘Oh, my gosh, I can’t believe this is happening’ can be dangerous.”

Peter laughed a bit. “That’s literally how I’d fight in a battle. Like, I could be fighting robots, right, and then one of them would go in for a punch, but, obviously, I stop it because I’m, like, super strong, and I’ll be like, ‘You have a metal arm? That is so cool!’”

MJ laughed too. “Yeah, you seem like the type. You should meet Ned. He’ll love you.”

“Can’t wait.” He gave her a genuine smile, not quite matching the one he had riding Karen, but close.

They sat in comfortable silence, allowing the noise to drown them. They’re food was brought to them by a young man in uniform. He placed food in front of the two of them and Peter was greeted by the delicious smell of fish and chips.

Peter dug in with fervour and MJ watched in amusement. He finished his food in a matter of minutes and belched self-consciously.

“And you say you weren’t trapped up there.” MJ shook her head.

“I wasn’t. I mean, I wouldn’t say I was.”

“Yeah, why not?” MJ asked, sliding her plate of food to Peter.

“Well, I wasn’t—Hey! That’s yours,” he said pointing at the food.

MJ shrugged. “You can have it. I don’t really want to eat anyway.”

“That’s not true, MJ. You said you were hungry.”

“Princess, you need it more than I do.”

“I can’t eat your food, MJ.”

“Fine! I’ll order another one.” And she did. “Happy now?” she asked when her food was brought. Peter smiled and nodded. “Now, I believe you were telling me about how you got into that tower.”

Peter cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah, well my mentor was Tony Stark—really popular where I’m from—”

“—Which is?”

“Uh, Midgard.”

“Whew,” MJ whistled. “We’re in Asgard, you know?”

He did not. “Yeah.” MJ nodded and motioned for him to continue, which he did. “Uh, yeah, so he’s a really famous mechanic and in all his years, he’s made a load of enemies. I’ve been working for him for as long as I can remember.

“He had a daughter a couple of years ago, Morgan. I was nine, I think. She’s practically my sister. One of Tony’s enemies found out about his kid and made out to hurt her.

“When I was sixteen, the guy got really close and it scared Tony. So, Tony—after much coaxing from his wife—decided to take Morgan and leave. Somewhere safe. I wanted to buy them some time, and tipped off the guy and told him Tony had hidden his kid in a tower and—”

“—And so naturally you decide that you were the kid and put yourself inside the tower instead of just lying to the guy,” MJ concluded with a hint of disbelief.

Peter shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Who’s the guy?”

“Thanos.”

MJ snorted. “Him? Oh, he’s dead. Killed him, like, five years ago.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “What? Really?”

“Yeah. Why? You gonna tell me that’s around the time you put yourself in the tower?” At Peter’s silence, MJ groaned. “You’re kidding me. You’ve been up there for five years, for nothing!”

“Hey! I didn’t realise that, okay?”

MJ pinched the bridge of her nose. “I cannot believe you tried to convince me to leave you there.”

After a beat of silence, Peter said, “If it means anything, I’m glad you didn’t. Thanks, MJ.”

~•~•~•~•~•

That night, MJ managed to get them a room at an inn where Peter tossed and turned. He was far too excited. He would be seeing his family the next day.

“Go to sleep, princess,” MJ grumbled into her pillow from her separate bed on the other side of the room.

Peter didn’t listen. He stared up at the ceiling in silence before he asked quietly, MJ?” who responded with an impatient grunt. “My sister, Morgan, is she—Did Stark say anything about her to you?”

MJ took a moment to respond. “Well, no. He didn’t say anything. But, the little girl with brown hair wanted you to know that she loves you three thousand. Whatever that means.”

His face broke into a grin and he fought back tears of joy. Morgan was safe.

“Hey, princess?” MJ asked. Peter hummed in response. “Go to sleep. I mean it.”

“You care,” he mumbled, and he was sure that MJ almost didn’t hear him.

But she did.

“What?”

“About me. You care. You care about me.”

MJ gulped before saying, “That’s disgusting and I’m appalled you would even think such a thing. Now, go to sleep.”

Peter turned over in his bed. “It’s fine if you don’t want to say it—I know you do.”

“You’re not sleeping.”

It was silent for a while and MJ thought Peter had finally listened to her but then he spoke again. “Hey, MJ.”

She groaned.

“I care about you too. G’night.”

“Good night, princess,” MJ replied almost breathlessly.

The next day, Peter would be seeing his family who he had dreamed of every night for five years. He’s sure they wouldn’t mind if he dreamt a new dream. Especially if it was of a certain curly-head saviour that rescued him.

No, he’s certain they wouldn’t.

And so, he does.

[spideyxchelle]

spideychelle week | 2019 | day seven, fantasy au

ao3

“Do you know what I wished for all those long nights on the road when we were children?”

She shakes her head.

“I asked the Gods to keep you safe. Spare her, I prayed. Take me instead, if you want a name for your list.”

“Peter—”

“I need you to live, MJ,” he rasps. “Find a place and hide.”

read the rest on ao3

[spiderman-homecomeme]

Day Six - Quiet Hours

AN: I have been looking forward to this day all week, and I’m so excited to see what everyone’s done for this! I absolutely love College AUs, and would love to do more of them! Thank you @spideychelleweek​ for getting this all together for us! 

Prompt: College AU

Here is about 4k (oops i went overboard) of fluff, college, humor, and a teensy bit of angst

.

.

“Karen, I think I’m in love.”

Peter almost couldn’t believe it.

No, he really couldn’t believe it.

She’d actually said yes.

She— girl-of-his-freakin’-dreams Michelle Jones— said yes.

Yes to a date with him.

He honestly doesn’t know how it happened, how she was able to decipher the fact that he was asking her to coffee from whatever that jumbled, painfully awkward mess was that came out of his mouth when he’d asked. And he’s not sure exactly how many times he’d said the words “cup of coffee,” in the span of a minute, but if he had to make a guess, it’d probably have been in the low-thousands.

They’d agreed to Friday at 3:30 at one of those cute coffee shops just outside of the campus.

Two days from now.

Alone.

On an actual date.

He briefly contemplates pinching himself; this has to be some kind of a dream. The polar opposite of whatever a nightmare was. He feels lighter than air as he swings from building to building, the smile under his mask threatening to burn through the fabric. 

God, what a day. 

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[forasecondtherewedwon]

On the Subject of Your Subject Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: E/NSFW Word count: 5717

Spideychelle Week Day 6: College AU

Summary: MJ’s spending her summer taking yet another art class, but it’s not about the college credit, it’s about the practice. She’s considering how to fix a sketch when she overhears some classmates discussing their work. While the work might be their own, MJ hears enough to know that the subject most certainly is not. It’s time for this art studio wallflower to stake a claim on Spider-Man.

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[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

Day Six: College AU

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.

[jessmalia]

Reblog if you are or know of an adult fan fiction writer

I’m trying to prove a point