#michelle jones au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

arlana-likes-to-write · 1 year

Text

Lightning Bug - Chapter 7

Previous Chapter // Master List

Warning: religious trauma, mention of an exorcism, reader needs a hug

Word Count: 2.5

Kate groaned as America climbed over the couch and kicked her. “Sorry,” she said, getting comfortable under the throw blanket.

“You could sit on the couch like a normal person,” America smiled at the archer.

“I’m not a normal person.” The teen said. Kate rolled her eyes.

“Don’t I know it.” Yelena sat down next to Kate with a bowl of caramel popcorn. The Black said it was the perfect movie snack, a little sweet and salty. It was movie night and all the Young Avengers as Tony called them gathered (the ones that were in the tower) on Peter’s floor. The Young Avengers plus Ned and Mj but they were at the tower so much no one batted an eye when they were walking the hall.

“What are we feeling like?” Ned asked, flipping through the various streaming services.

“Action,” MJ suggested, unwrapping a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup and threw it in that air, catching it in her mouth. The Black Widow groaned.

“We see enough action as is.” It was true. Besides whenever they did watch an action movie, the Avengers found themself critiquing the fight scenes instead of watching it for the plot.

“Musical?” Peter suggested. America shook her head.

“We just watched Hairspray.” Kate sighed, throwing her head back.

“Horror,” her friends looked at one another and no one objected. “Put on The Conjuring.” Ned nodded, queuing up the movie.

“Wait!” America yelled. The sudden sound caused Ned to jump and drop the remote. It landed on the ground with a crash. The back opened and the batteries scattered to the ground. “Opps. Sorry Ned.”

“It’s no biggie. Just gave me a small heart attack.” He and Peter began to look for the batteries.

“Why the sudden outburst, Lil Liberty,” America rolled her eyes at the nickname.

“Should we invite Y/n?” She asked. The mention of the newest addition to the tower made everyone freeze.

“Mr. Stark said she had a rough day.” Peter said. She had a bad day because of Stark, Kate thought. But she did seem in a better mood at dinner. “Do you think she’d want to join us?” The archer shrugged.

“Can’t hurt to ask,” Kate stood up. “I’ll go ask.” She shoved some popcorn in her mouth before heading off to her floor. The worst that could happen was she said no. She felt horrible for the teen today. When Natasha came back telling everyone she ran away, Kate felt her stomach drop. It was like she was on a rollercoaster, going up and down and up and down. Even FRIDAY didn’t even know where she went so they were required to find her the old fashion way, search known places she would likely visit. In the end, Kate was glad she was home.

You were placing the few books you owned on the bookshelf you and Tony built. To anyone that walked into your room, it looked like a normal bookshelf. But the bookshelf had FRIDAY’s interface built into it which was connected to an app on your phone. It could keep track of what books you had to prevent double buying and it kept the progress of each book you were reading. “Kate Bishop is at your door,” The AI said.

“Thank you, FRIDAY.” You said, putting on your gloves and walking to the door. “Hi,” you greeted as you opened the door.

“Hey, how are you?” She asked.

“Pretty good actually.” You answered honestly. Kate smiled.

“Good, a bunch of us are watching a movie and we are wondering if you want to join us?” Your eyes went wide.

“You want me to join you guys,” she nodded. “Why?” The question seemed to startle the brunette in front of you.

“Because you are our friend and friends invite friends to hang out.” Oh. That made sense. “So, do you want to hang out?” You nodded with a smile.

“Yeah, I’d love to.” You stepped out of your room and closed the door behind you. “Who's going to be there?” You asked, following Kate to the elevator.

“It’s on Peter’s floor,” you haven’t seen the excited teen since that night you ran into him. “So it’s him, his girlfriend, MJ, and his friend, Ned.” You nodded, if they were anything like Peter it was going to be a long night. “Then me, Yelena, and America.”

“Cool.” You said, rubbing your hands on your shorts. You were a little nervous, a little excited. It was a weird feeling running through you. The metal doors opened and Kate stepped onto Peter’s floor.

“MJ, Ned met Y/n, Y/n met the other people that aren’t Avengers but are here all the time.” You gave them a small wave. MJ rolled her eyes at Kate’s jab.

“Your life would be colorless without me in it.” You smiled, sitting down in the empty space between Kate and America.

“Hi again Peter.” He seemed surprise that you remembered him. He waved.

“Do you want some popcorn?” Yelena asked, passing a bowl to you. You looked into the bowl.

“What is that?” You’ve had popcorn before. At special events at Lucia’s store, she had a popcorn machine. This wasn’t popcorn.

“It’s caramel popcorn,” the Russian said. “Instead of butter, they use caramel.” Oh. You’ve had caramel, sometimes Annie would drizzle it on your hot chocolate. You picked up a piece and ate it. It was delicious.

“That’s really good.” You said, taking a few more pieces.

“Have you had a Reese’s?” MJ asked you. You shook your head. She tossed you an unopened candy. Chocolate and peanut butter. “You aren’t allergic, are you?”

“No..” You said slowly.

“That did not sound convincing,” Ned laughed. You smiled, opening the candy. You weren’t allergic to peanut butter. A peanut butter sandwich was a staple in your childhood, it was a food you lived on.

“This is my favorite,” MJ tossed you another one.

“Try this.” Peter handed you a red candy. Licorice, it read.

“If you like this I’ll be amazed.” America said. You opened the candy and smelt it. It was sweet. You took a tentative bite and your face scrunched up at your distaste of it. The group laughed.

“That’s not good,” You swallowed the piece in your mouth and Yelena handed you a bottle of water.

“Enough with the sweets or she’s going to be sick.” Yelena said. “Let’s start the movie.”

“We are watching a horror film,” America whispered to you. “Is that okay?” You nodded as Ned pressed play. Horror wasn’t a genre you gravitated towards but you’ve read your fair share of horror novels. Stephen King. Shirley Jackson. Your favorite was The Shining.

The movie began to play. The ominous music filled the quiet floor. The couples around you began to cuddle up with each other. You didn’t miss the way Ned gagged. You could count the number of movies you’ve seen on one hand. Movies were available at Lucia’s bookstore and the shelters you visited but movies weren’t your thing. “See always trust a dog.” Yelena mumbled. You chuckled. It was different from watching a story play out on screen then in your head. You didn’t dislike it, it was just different. The movie was scary as it followed a married couple trying to help a big family with a paranormal problem. You enjoyed. You made a mental night to check the horror books the tower had. The genre was interesting.

But it took a turn. Ed had to perform an exorcism on the mother to rid the demon that possessed her. You kept your eyes glued to the screen as the familiar Latin phrases were chanted in the room. You dug your fingers into your palm to keep you grounded, to stay in the room. It was so hard to keep your mind on the movie and not when your parents dragged you to the church. They forced you on your knees as the Latin phrases were screamed at you. Excorizamute, omnis immundus … omins legio diabolic … Humilione sub potent…

“That was an actual scary horror movie.” Ned said once the credits started rolling.

“That clapping bit was freaky!” Peter said. You agreed that part made you jump.

“There are a few more movies we can watch the second one.” Kate said. “Did you like it?” She asked you. You nodded.

“It was good. A little inaccurate.” You added.

“Isn’t it based on a true story?” MJ questioned. You shrugged, playing with a string from the blanket America was using.

“What was not accurate about it?” America asked. You didn’t answer right away. You should have just kept your mouth shut.

“Exorcisms,” you said. “They usually happen at a holy place like a church not a house.” You sighed. “They are a last resort. Most people start with medication if no improvement is made then a priest is brought in.” You explained. The group was silent.

“How do you know that?” Yelena asked slowly like she was afraid to know the answer.

“My parents were really religious,” you kept the truth locked deep inside you. “Let’s start the second movie.” You said desperately trying to get the attention off of you. Ned looked around the group, no one said anything. He took the silence as confirmation to start the second film. You sat back with your arms crossed. You caught America sending you a smile. You forced a smile back.

“That was weird, right?” Kate asked as she pulled back the covers of the bed. Yelena stepped out of the bathroom, brushing her hair. Kate tapped the spot in front of her and the Black Widow sat down in front of her girlfriend, her back to Kate’s front. The archer took the brush and began to brush the blonde hair. It was a red flag when the young girl began to talk about exorcisms like she’s had first hand experience on the matter. Yelena sighed, enjoying the feeling of Kate’s hands braiding her hair.

“It was worrying,” Yelena finally said. “I’ll talk to Natasha about it tomorrow,” Yelena heard Kate sigh. “What is it, dorogoy?” The Russian asked, turning to face her.

“I just worry about her. It seems everyday we learn something more heartbreaking.” Kate gently pushed on Yelena’s shoulder for her to look forward.

“We’ll keep her safe,” Yelena said. “She’s not alone anymore.” The Russian felt Kate’s lips press a soft kiss on her shoulder. Yelena knew they couldn’t keep her safe from her mind.

Yelena woke up early. She untangled herself from Kate and left her room. She found her sister on the couch, typing at her laptop. “Are you not going for a run?” Yelena asked, as she sat down next to her. Natasha shook her head.

“I have to get this done for Maria.” She answered, not taking her eyes away from the screen.

“So do you have time to talk?” Natasha immediately closed her laptop and gave Yelena her full attention. The blonde was grateful for this time with her sister. For years the two Russian sisters were separated but now they were back together. She knew her life could be incredibly different.

“What’s going on?” Yelena looked toward Y/n’s door.

“What do you know about her parents?” She asked. Natasha looked at her sister, trying to decode the real reason she asked.

“Not much,” The redhead answered. “We found an article that may have been about her family.” Yelena raised her eyebrows.

“May have?” She questioned.

“FRIDAY found no record of her existing, not even a birth certificate. The article said a fire killed them and it appears that she may have been in the house but survived.” Natasha explained. “Her father was a priest, a popular one. What is this about?”

“It was movie night and we watched The Conjuring. At the end of the movie there was an exorcism. She said she enjoyed the movie but said the exorcism part was not accurate,” she watched the realization wash over her sister. It was haunting. Her voice was so clear and so unlike any other time she’s spoken. “Siestra, the way she talked about it made it seem like she’s been so close to one.” Natasha didn’t say anything as she let what Yelena said sit with her.

“I’ll talk to her,” the older Black Widow stood up. “Her parents are dead, they can’t hurt her anymore.” Yelena wasn’t so sure about that. The blonde grabbed her sister’s arm, stopping her.

“We all know that death doesn’t erase the pain.” Yelena was referring to the man behind the Red Room. He was dead. The Red Room fell from the sky. It was over, done, and young girls were safe. But the memories were still there. Natasha grabbed her hand.

“You are right. But death is finite and the pain can begin to heal.”

You were startled to see Natasha when you opened your door. “Hi.” You said. She gave you a smile.

“Where are you off to this morning?” She asked.

“Oh I was going to go see Annie. I barely said two words to her yesterday.” You told the Black Widow. “Is that okay?” You added. You were going to tell someone just so they knew you didn’t run away.

“Of course it is. Can we talk? It won’t take long.” You nodded, stepping out of the way so she could enter your room. You kept the door open and sat at the edge of the bed. “Are you okay?” Natasha asked, sitting down next to you. You looked at the red head.

“I’m fine.” You said. She didn’t say anything waiting for you to continue. You were fine. It was the truth. Besides.. “Is this about last night?” You asked. You shouldn’t have said anything but your mind was scattered therefore you didn’t have time to process the consequences of what you were saying. You just spoke.

“Yelena said you said something that worried her.” You sighed. “You can talk about your parents if you need to.”

“They died in a fire,” you told her. “What more needs to be said?” You asked.

“Just because someone that hurt you is dead doesn't erase the pain they caused.” Your heart began to pound. The organ was beating against your ribs. Thud. Thud. Thud.

“I don’t think I’m ready to tell you about them,” you answered honestly. To tell them about your parents and your brother would mean you would need to tell them what you are, what you are capable of. You looked at Natasha and you weren’t surprised to see a smile.

“When are you ready we’ll be here to listen,” she stood up. “Tell Annie we all say hi.”

“I will.” She left your room. You fell on your back staring up at the ceiling. You let the beating of your heart settle down. You didn’t know how to talk about your parents. Wasn’t the point of a mom and dad to love their child? To keep them safe. To protect them. They didn’t do that for you. You wished they did, your life would be so different if they just loved you.

178 notes · View notes

palettesofrenaissance · 18 days

Note

📄

Desc: Stormy middle of the day, gray and full of thunderclouds, stuck inside alone and needing to feel cozy, tea kettle on to boil, pile of unread books

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 (𝐈'𝐦 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞)

The sky outside is a dark greyish-indigo as the setting sun reflects through the thick clouds that are heavy with an impending, angry thunderstorm. The telltale humidity is strong in the air; it wafts through the room from the opened window. Despite, inside it's quiet, calm, and she's cozy, wearing an oversized, knitted cardigan with its sleeves tightly rolled up to her elbows.

The thick, undeniable smell of blood from her prey continues to drift in from the bathroom, mixing with the smell of the oncoming rain and the tea that's been steeping on the stove.

In the kitchen, the cast iron tea kettle sits on the stove coil, still hot and lowly simmering. Also along the counters are her cutting boards with knives, her chosen seasonings lined up, an uncorked bottle of red wine for cooking, a lemon to zest, and a stew pot on the stove and a bowl to collect excess.

In the outside distance, the first roll of thunder rumbles over the city, and through the opened window a soft breeze blows, pushing aside her curls that have strayed from her high bun.

From her speakers, her calm playlist plays and she sways her hips to the music.

This is her third time doing this. She's still thinks of herself as a beginner but has learned enough from her previous mistakes to be cleaner and thorough this time. Also, she's made sure to do this when her fiancé is out.

This isn't her first time doing this; the first time had been when her beloved fiancé witnessed her, so grotesquely and animalistic. She has been in the bathtub, hunched over a dying cat in her hands. It's dying, helpless meows gripping her fiancé's heartstrings in sorrow as he helplessly watched her sink her mouth into its corpse. Tuffs of its fur haven been pulled off. Blood dripped down her mouth, thickly slicking her luscious lips he loves so much and which he's kissed far too many times to count. Back then, her fiancé sat against the bathroom wall watching, stunned, as she ate the kidnapped neighbor's cat in order to feed.

Then, her fiancé had made her promise to not do this again—even though her turning in the first place had been his fault. She'd agreed—after discarding the feline carcass and after a hot, long shower, shes agreed with her eyes downcast as if in shame and while wrapped up in a fluffy blanket.

She had promised to not do it again—

Despite her turning being his doing.

So, now during an impeding thunderstorm and calm and cozy in her home, she flips through the cook book currently in her hands and bites off a hanging nail on her thumb, nonchalantly spinning on her toes as she paces inside the small semicircle pile of books. She mentally calculates how to replace the Chateaubriand steak in the recipe with human meat.

Still lightly dancing to the music, she ventures into the kitchen and retrieves another bowl before returning to the bathroom where her meal rests, slumped in the porcelain tub and dead. She'd already skinned his abdomen, biceps, and parts of his calves and thighs to get to the good muscle and fat.

She remembers when she first saw him—on television while sitting beside her fiancé who wore a wrinkled nose of deep disgust—and that's when she decided he'd be a delectable next target. Eating him was just a bonus and a way to savor her kill.

For her, choosing him would be getting rid of two birds with one stone, minding the online threads about him containing further disgust.

Here in her home, she's already cleaned the cuts of his meat she's already sliced. Now, she pounds them with a meat tenderizer mallet, putting to use the cooking apron her conservative great aunt and uncle gifted her last Christmas. "Choose your weapon" it read surrounded by a silhouette array of cooking utensils.

Once more, another roar of thunder echoes over the city. The clouds look like dark waves rolling over the rooftops.

The books she now has stacked nearby vary from more cooking books to those of the occult variety, to bat anatomy, to global mythologies.

The song currently playing fades out and another one begins, this one from her childhood—which her mother would play loudly on the weekends she was awoken early to help clean the whole home. It makes her smile at the warm memory, pausing to take another drink from her cup of chamomile tea.

When the rain begins to pour, she closes the front windows to halfway. By this time, her home smells heavenly—of relaxing tea and the seasonings accompanying her delectable meal that's simmering on the stovetop.

Her fiancé isn't scheduled to return until tomorrow. In the meantime, she's invited a few friends for this dinner, informing them to bring over plastic bags big enough to take away leftover limbs and carcass for themselves.

They're just as excited as she, knowing she's a newbie; they became even more excited and encouraging once it's revealed who her latest target had been.

They're just as bloodthirsty as she, and who the meal is tonight makes it just all so much more delicious.

Looking to her clock, she realizes her guests should be knocking on her door in the next 20 minutes or so. So, she goes to get dressed.

6 notes · View notes

the-poor-miranha-quotes · 6 months

Text

7 notes · View notes

yes-i-am-happyaspie · 1 year

Text

Firefight Peter Parker, Spideychelle AU 🥰 🚒

This image just popped into my head one day and I had to draw it. Then I started really thinking about it and I just have so many thoughts and feelings about this AU. I know I'll never write it. But I did jot down some headcanon points to add to this post.

Peter practically grew up in the firehouse where his Uncle Ben worked. He visited the station with his Aunt May all the time. Sometimes, when his uncle had a shift during the holidays, they would spend part of it there with him and the rest of his company. It made it feel like they were all one big family. It didn’t take long for Peter to decide he wanted to grow up to be a firefighter too. As he grew older, that desire never changed. Even after his uncle died amidst the flames of a particularly destructive fire.

As soon as Peter graduated high school, he entered the Fire Academy and graduated top of his class. He was put right to work as a probationary firefighter at a station right in the middle of Queens.

Peter is the youngest firefighter on staff. The crew gives him a hard time about it. They call him the rookie and the baby of the group while trying to pinch his cheeks. He accepts their teasing because he knows they mean well. It helps that they also know how serious he is about the job. He’s always the first one there for training and practice. He’s never late for his shifts, and he stays on top of his necessary certifications. Every so often, the crew ribs him about that too.

Ideally, this AU would also have Steve Rogers as the captain and Bruce as a firefighter/paramedic.

When Peter’s not at the station, he lives with his girlfriend, MJ. They are very much in love, and It’s not unusual for her to come to visit during his two-day shifts. For no other reason than she misses him.

Peter lights up the moment she arrives. His serious exterior drops to something much softer as he pulls her into a tight embrace. Even after they separate, their hands continue to touch. Sometimes they sit outside and chat while she’s there. Other times, they playfully bicker until Peter scoops her up and hurls her over his shoulder. He’ll hold her there in a standard fireman’s carry, telling her he won’t set her down until she agrees with him. They both laugh and laugh until MJ falls limp and admits defeat. Once she’s back on the ground, they go back to holding hands.

There are comments in the background, the crew shouting at them to ‘get a room.’ Tony, the well-practiced driver, and engineer, that Peter's come to see as something of a mentor, is generally the one who initiates it. Peter will send him a menacing look in retaliation. But it never puts a stop to the gleeful teasing. He’s okay with it, though. Tony reminds him a lot of his Uncle Ben.

If the alarm goes off while MJ's there, Peter will reluctantly let go of her. He’ll rush to join his department brothers and sisters as they collectively prepared to perform their jobs. Often, MJ will call after him saying, ‘stay safe’ and ‘be careful’ as he goes. He’ll pause momentarily to look over his shoulder and tell her he’s always careful and will always do his best to come home to her. She nods her head and steps back to watch the hustling. Peter knows she understands how important his job is, and he’s thankful she’s so supportive. He loves and respects her but he really couldn’t imagine himself doing anything else with his life.

Because in every reality, Peter Parker just wants to help people.

For some extra spice, Peter could respond to a fire at Oscorp, where he gets bitten by a radioactive spider.

If you read this, enjoyed it, and are so inclined, please write it! Just be sure to tag me so I can enjoy it too!!

#happyaspie art #firefighter au #firefighter peter parker #peter x mj #peter parker #michelle jones #spideychelle #spideychelle headcanon #marvel headcanons #Peter Parker/Michelle Jones #marvel #peter parker x michelle jones #my mj #tom holland #zendaya coleman #marvel au #irondad #a lil bit of irondad if you squint

36 notes · View notes

littlebosleepmusings · 10 months

Text

Marvel Zombie/Post-Apocalypse AU

Pairing ➢ Possible Bucky Barnes x F!Reader or Thor x F!Reader

Warnings ➢ swearing

Summary ➢ As Dr. Van Dyne and Dr. Banner’s faithful lab assistant, you are often afforded certain privileges that others are not. So when an emergency calls the majority of you superiors away, you are forced to make a life-changing decision that alters your lives and the lives of everyone you know forever.

Author's Note ➢ five chapters posted so far.

AO3

#reader insert #marvel fanfic #marvel au #mcu au #bucky barnes x reader #thor odinson x reader #tony stark #hope van dyne #bruce banner #michelle jones

10 notes · View notes

silently-judgingyou · 3 months

Text

Bio:

Full Name: Michelle Jones Watson

Pronouns: She/Her | Straight

Birthday: June 10, 2001

Relationship Status: Peter Parker (SO)

School: Headed to MIT

Job: Peter Pan Donut & Pastry Shop

A Multiverse of Stories:

MCU Canon: The key distinction rests on whether she recalls Peter or not. Please share your thoughts on what suits our story best.

Royalty Au: In a fantasy kingdom, Queen Michelle grapples with the recent loss of their greatest protector, Sir Anthony Stark. Now, she must navigate ruling on her own despite her youth.

Spiderwoman AU: In an alternate universe, MJ is bitten by a radioactive spider, gaining enhanced powers similar to Peter. United by their newfound abilities, they join forces to combat crime on the streets of New York.

Headcanons:

Mother: MJ's parents never saw eye to eye. After MJ and her dad were blipped, her mom remarried. Upon their return, her mom chose to sever ties with both of them, leading to a complete breakdown in MJ's relationship with her mother.

Father: MJ's father is notably unpredictable, especially when under the influence of alcohol, displaying extreme aggression and abuse. To steer clear of this unsettling environment, MJ makes a conscious effort to spend as much time as possible with Peter and Ned, or at school, effectively minimizing her presence at home.

Family:

Peter Parker: Boyfriend | @spideymn | please do not duplicate

Ned Leeds: Close Friend

Posts Tagged as: #what up dorks

#what up dorks #michelle jones roleplay #michelle jones #MJ Watson #Michelle jones Watson #Zendaya #zendaya Coleman #spiderman #spiderman homecoming #spiderman far from home #spiderman no way home #homecoming #far from home #no way home #roleplay #multimuse rp #multi muse blog #zendaya roleplay #spiderman au

2 notes · View notes

anonymousewrites · 1 year

Text

Curse to My Heart Chapter Six

Chapter Six: Once Upon a Dream

“For the last time, you have to let me out!” shouted Peter. Still no response. Damn it, damn it, damn it! I can’t let Loki be killed! Then (Y/N) could never be saved! She’d be stuck asleep forever! “Please!”

“Relax, Princey, I need to figure out which pocket they put the key in,” said a familiar voice.

Peter froze and frowned. What the…? He moved to his door and peered out the keyhole. “MJ?!” he cried. MJ was standing over the guards she had just knocked out with a frying pan.

“Hey, Peter,” said MJ. She raised a hand as she continued to try to find the key.

“How are you—Why are you—What?!” He gaped at the sight of the girl he had met in the forest in the castle in much more formal clothing. Still masculine clothing, but still, much more formal attire. Royal attire.

“Turns out we were both royals,” quipped MJ with a slight smile. “That works out for us. We get to still see each other.”

“Yeah!” said Peter excitedly before frowning. “Wait, how did you know to come find me?”

MJ shrugged, finally finding the key and coming to the door. “King Quentin seems kind of crazy, and when you were said to be awake and there was danger but you were just…in your room, I knew something was up. You wouldn’t run—you’d be helping.” MJ opened the door. “So I thought I’d come help you out.”

“Thank you!” Peter hugged her tightly, and MJ froze before hugging back. “We need to go, now!”

MJ frowned. “There is a crazy fae coming for you. Where do you want to go?”

Peter shook his head frantically. “No, no, no! The King is twisting all of this!” He sighed. “Listen, it’s really complicated, but I was never cursed. It affected (Y/N), the woman who raised me.”

“(Y/N)? How?” MJ recognized the name from their talks in the woods, so she understood how important she was to Peter and wanted to help.

“I’m not entirely sure, but she’s asleep,” said Peter sorrowfully. “And the King is using her as bait for Loki, even though they have become friends and he could save her!”

MJ decided that her questions on how Loki became friends with someone and wasn’t evil anymore could wait due to the severity of the circumstances. “Alright.”

“Alright?” Peter was relieved she believe him so easily but was surprised all the same.

MJ shrugged. “You wouldn’t be stupid enough to do this if it wasn’t for a good cause, and if (Y/N) is as smart as you say she is, then she wouldn’t be taken in by any lies. I trust you when you say Loki could help.” She glanced down at the unconscious guards. “We’ll have to be careful and hurry, though. King Quentin is preparing for battle.”

“Right!” said Peter determinedly. “Let’s go.”

“You could try to find the girl the Prince met,” suggested Sylvie. “You could bring her to the castle to try to wake the boy.”

Loki shook his head. “It was not yet love. There is no hope there.”

“Then at least visit (Y/N),” said Sylvie, almost pleading due to how forlorn and heartbroken Loki had been since the curse had come to pass. He was stuck in the little cottage, feeling the constant pull and knowledge that his magic was keeping an innocent in an endless sleep. “She has forgiven you. I know it.”

Loki scoffed. “If she ever considered forgiving me, then she has surely recanted. The curse coming to pass, sending the boy into a sleep like death, will remind her of what I did.”

“Well, if you sit here, you sure as hell will never know how she really feels,” hissed Sylvie in annoyance.

Loki stood suddenly, knocking his chair back. “She will despise me the moment she sees Peter’s sleeping face. She will despise me the moment the curse’s affects are shown to her. She will despise me the moment she is reminded of the monster I am.”

The footfalls of horses could be heard outside, and a mare whinnied. Loki froze, looking towards the door, almost afraid of looking outside to see who was there. Sylvie smirked.

“Or, she could return here, to the cottage. To you,” said Sylvie. She crossed to the window and looked out. Her eyes widened. “It’s the boy.”

Loki’s head snapped to attention. “What?” He looked out and sat Peter standing with MJ, perfectly awake (the pair were discussing where to check for Loki after looking through the cottage). “How…I felt my curse succeed…He should be asleep.” Loki felt a knot form in his stomach, worrisome and heavy. “And if he isn’t, why is he here and not at the castle?”

Although she hated to say it, Sylvie had to be honest. “Something is wrong.”

“Loki?!” called Peter from outside.

Loki threw open the door and looked imperiously at Peter, even though he was anxious to understand why Peter was searching for him and why he was even awake when the magic did something to someone.

“Hello, Little Prince,” said Loki smoothly. “Returning to your childhood home already?”

Ignoring Loki’s attempts at remaining collected and imperious, MJ cut straight to the point. “The King is trying to kill you.”

Loki chuckled. “Isn’t he always.”

“He’s using (Y/N),” stressed Peter.

Loki froze before stepping forward, a dangerous element entering his tone. “What?”

Peter swallowed nervously but nodded emphatically. “I woke up this morning—I didn’t have any trouble at all—but when I went to celebrate with (Y/N), I found her asleep! And there was a spinning wheel in her room! Then when I told the King we needed to help her by getting you to release the curse, he refused and said he could lure you here since you like her and then he is going to kill you, and then (Y/N) is going to be asleep forever, and I can’t let that happen!”

“(Y/N) is asleep?” Loki was horrified.

“Yes,” said Peter. “It’s almost like she’s dead, she’s so still…but I checked for a pulse, and it’s still there!”

How…? Loki’s lips parted as he realized what had happened. He had spoken of the “cursed” who would “prick a finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and die.” He had not said Peter would. And then that brave fool of a woman tried to protect the boy…(Y/N) was hit by the magic. Loki’s heart clenched so tightly he felt he might shrivel up with it. He had cursed the most important person his life to an endless sleep.

“So MJ came for me, and we came here to get you to fix this!” continued Peter. “You can lift the spell—”

“I tried already,” interrupted Loki. “It’s impossible.”

“Well, we have to do something!” cried Peter. “The King is going to lock her away to lure you in, and then he’ll just leave her in the tower forever!” His voice broke off from a sob. “(Y/N) doesn’t deserve that! She deserves peace at the very least…”

MJ nodded and pointed out the awful truth. “Not to mention, if King Quentin believes you’ll come for her, he might threaten to hurt her more to get you to come. She’s not safe.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed and his fist clenched at the idea of Quentin harming (Y/N). “Of course, I will protect her.” Even if she doesn’t care for me the same way I care for her, I cannot abandon her to Quentin.

Quentin watched as the guards set (Y/N) down on the bed in the highest toward in the castle. The longer it took Loki to find her, the longer they would have to capture and kill him, so that’s why they took her there.

The guards bowed and left as Quentin looked down at (Y/N) with a smirk. While he didn’t understand why the proud Loki was so interested in a common servant, Quentin was grateful for it. It gave him leverage and a way to finally get Loki out of the way. Then, finally, he could enjoy his power as king without fear.

“I don’t know what you did all those years, but thank you. Now I shall finally be victorious against Loki,” said Quentin. “And all because of a peasant.” He chuckled. “We have always been more than those born with power believe. And now, Loki will see that.” He walked to the door, key in hand. “Sweet dreams, my dear. Just think of all the help you’ve given your King.” Quentin smirked and locked the door behind him.

(Y/N) was confused. She was standing in the middle of a clearing in the Fae Woods, her ornate dress resting on her once again. But everything felt…hazy, off in some slight way. Like she was missing, forgetting something.

A hand wound around her waist, and she jumped and turned in surprise. Loki stood by her side, regal in his dark green clothes, a smile on his face as he looked at her with such softness that (Y/N) could not help but turn pink.

“Loki,” she said, trying not to seem nervous by his sudden affection.

“Hello, darling,” he said smoothly, drawing her closer. “Won’t you dance with me?”

“Do you have to ask?” she said, feeling incredibly at ease in the moment, even if the whole world felt slightly far away and fuzzy. That didn’t matter. All that mattered was she was there with Loki, together, cared for.

(Music) “I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream~”

Loki turned them so his arm was around her waist, her hand in his as the music began to play.

“I know you, The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam.”

Loki smiled down at her, his green eyes shining like emeralds under the moonlight with such beautiful intensity it took (Y/N)’s breath away.

“Yet I know it’s true, That visions are seldom all they seem.”

It almost didn’t feel real: Loki’s hands on her, his softness, the adoration in his eyes…But even if this was all in her mind, (Y/N) would treasure it. She would treasure anything Loki gave her, real or not, because what else was she to do? She had fallen too hard. Even her stubbornness was no match for her heart’s affections.

“But if I know you, I know what you’ll do~”

She could only wish and hope and dream that either this was real somehow or that it could be, even if it felt impossible for either to be true. Deep inside, (Y/N) knew she’d never care for another the way she did for Loki, never with the same intensity and so unconditionally.

Her heart would never love another.

“You’ll love me at once, The way you did once Upon a dream.”

22 notes · View notes

spicysagittarius · 2 years

Text

if only you knew

For @spideychelleweek Day 2: College AU!

Rated E

In which Peter Parker and Michelle Jones-Watson are tough competitors at MIT and absolutely despise each other. When he finds a lost book (a steamy romance novel!) he texts the owner to return it. Their texting turns to sexting, and he wishes he knew who the mystery girl was.

Peter Parker loves MIT. It’s been his dream school since sixth grade, and even now as a senior, he still can’t believe he’d actually pulled it off.

For the most part, studying neuroscience at MIT has lived up to every childhood dream. The one glaring exception is Michelle Jones-Watson.

Most people like Michelle. She’s not an asshole (in a school full of assholes, that counts for something), she’s pretty, and she’s wicket smart. Her perfect SAT score of 1600 and continued academic achievement mean that professors absolutely love her. It’s not a surprise to anyone that she’s the School of Science’s top student.

Peter, evidently, ranks second. And god, does it bug him.

It bugs him because she may not have the reputation of an asshole but she certainly acts like one towards him. Even on the first day of their junior year – when Michelle transferred from NYU – she’d humiliated him with her condescending tone after he’d introduced himself. “I know who you are,” Michelle had murmured. He didn’t have time to reply before she added, “You’ve slept with 3 of my roommates.”

“Ah,” he grimaced. It’s true, Peter’s always been the science department’s resident fuckboy. But why did she care?

“I’m dying to find out how the smartest neuroscience major has time for all that coursework and the entire student body.”

She’d completely caught him off guard, but he refused to show it. “Why does it matter? Hey, if you want a turn, all you have to do is ask.”

Peter could’ve sworn he saw her cheeks flush, but the intriguing new girl was as stubborn as he was. She clucked her tongue with a smirk. “Bold line for a dude with his fly down.”

“Huh?” Oh, fuck. She was right. That fucking…

“Nice to meet you, Patrick.”

She was already walking away when he cursed under his breath. “It’s Peter!”

Luckily enough, the last two years haven’t forced him and Michelle to interact too much. Yeah, they share all the same lectures – even chosen the same electives – but the class sizes are big enough to seat them on opposite sides of the room. Their physical avoidance doesn’t stop her from bugging the shit out of him every time she opens her mouth, but hey. He figures it could be a lot worse.

Any previous ‘glass-half-full’ attitude flies out the window on the first day of their senior year at MIT.

It’s Peter’s first lecture of the week, and he’s unsurprised when he enters the hall to see Michelle already sitting in the third row, chewing on the end of her pencil and scribbling notes. How is she already taking notes?

He curses at himself when his second thought is about how good she looks. She’s always been pretty, but summer had a glowing effect on her. He hates that he notices the tan line peeking from underneath her top and her loose curls falling down her back; the ends tinted gold by the sun. What the fuck are you, Nicholas Sparks? He mentally kicks himself. It’s then that he notices her returning stare, rich with irritation and disdain. Business as usual, then.

Their professor, a middle-aged man in a bowtie, serves as the perfect interruption to their glaring contest. Peter quickly finds a seat across the room and listens half-heartedly as he welcomes the audience to Neuroscience and Morality.

After a brief summary of the course, the instructor begins to outline the semester’s big assessment worth half their grade. It’s here that a cloud, a tornado, destroys any remnant of a good attitude and sheds any possibility for an enjoyable final year of undergrad.

“Towards the end of the semester, you’ll deliver a thorough, half-hour presentation in front of your classmates. This presentation is your free-for-all. You’ll choose a research focus in the broad spectrum of neuroscience and work with a partner to educate your audience on it.”

A partner! Peter immediately glanced at Ned with a knowing grin.

“Ah ah ah,” Professor Dunn tuts amidst growing, excitable chatter. “I will be choosing your partnerships. Look around, guys. There are 68 students in this room, and you’ve been studying together for some time now. Half of you worked with the same person all last year!”

Grumbles, of course, fill the room and confirm a unanimous disapproval.

“I know it’s not your first choice, but my decision is final. Remember, these partnerships will not be changed and the presentation will be worth half your grade.”

Finally, Dunn announces the partnerships he’d already chosen. “Cindy Moon and Johnny Storm,” he starts to read off. Peter chuckles, watching teachers-pet Cindy and baseball freak Johnny gape in disbelief.

“Flash Thompson and Abe Lewis.” Flash is the dean’s snobby son who makes fun of Abe’s old Prius.

“Ned Leeds and Gwen Stacy.” That one isn’t too bad, Peter thinks. Ned’s had a thing for Gwen since sophomore year. Peter turns to him, exchanging an excitable smile. He whispers with his best friend for a few more partnerships, hyping him up discreetly. Their excited hush almost causes Peter to miss the next pairing Dunn calls…but truly, the ice-cold water that the professor’s next words dunk him in are too cruel to tune out.

“Michelle Jones-Watson and Peter Parker.”

He feels a little guilty for immediately going to pinch himself out of what had to be a nightmare. Jones and him? Spending one-on-one time together? He prefers anyone else. Anyone else. Flash Thompson. Sam Wilson. Ex-girlfriend Felicia Hardy. Fuck, anyone.

He can’t even look her way for the rest of the lecture.

Peter decides to try taking his mind off of the prison sentence from Dunn and study for his upcoming lectures. He heads to the campus library, finding a quiet spot away from the main foyer where he might be able to concentrate.

As he sighs and sets his textbooks on the table in front of him, a flash of green captures his attention from underneath his chair. Peter forgets his textbooks and reaches to grab it, assuming a student just got careless and forgot to put an unwanted library book away.

Boy, is he wrong.

The 400-something pages of the book are encased in hardback, but a forest-green fabric sleeve hides the book’s front and back covers. It’s not a library book, then, Peter frowns.

And, look, he promises he’s not nosy. He’s never been interested in gossip or the private matters of fellow students. All he’s doing, he swears, is looking for any clues that reveal the book’s owner. So when he opens the front cover with great caution, it’s not because he’s invasive.

Ah-ha! The search pays off as Peter spots a loopy, disorganised scribble on the inside flap.

If found please contact 755-0833.

Fair enough, then.

Peter gathers the long-forgotten textbooks and shoves them back into his bag, exiting the library with the green mystery book in hand. He’s quick to find a quiet area near the doors and begins to type the number into his phone.

Maybe, if he’d told the truth just now about not being nosy, he’d call the owner without a second thought and return the book. But he’d totally, completely lied. Curiosity for the smallest answers is his worst enemy and fuck it. He wants to know what book this is.

He also reminds himself that hey, if there wasn’t a handmade book cover gatekeeping the damn title, he wouldn’t give a fuck. And that’s why he’s interested. What kind of book makes one feel the need to hide its identity? He considers dozens of possibilities at once. Fine! Peter Parker is nosy as hell.

What if it’s, like, terrorist propoganda? What if it’s one of those super embarrassing self-help books? Not the normal ones, but the ones written for pyramid schemes? What if it was a book of ancient spells, or something?

He really does think he’s thought of every possibility until he lifts the sleeve to peek at the cover.

Lost in Lust: Forbidden Desires

Peter stares dumbfounded at the illustration in his hand: biceps the size of Thor’s accompany a torso fit for Men’s Health front-and-centre. What the fuck?

Okay, now he’s dying to reveal the owner. He quickly types out a message and sends it to the inscribed number.

Hey, I think I found a book you left in the library? With the green cover on it?

He doesn’t immediately get a reply, so he heads back to his dorm with a blush too out-of-place on someone with the body count he has.

It’s an hour later when the owner finally replies.

755-0833: Oh shit, thanks. Would you be able to meet me somewhere so I can grab it from you?

He replies in under a minute.

For sure.

And then, without thinking and because he’s an actual dumbass…

Interesting book, by the way

He’s cursing himself the second he sends it. Why did he fucking say that? Not only is he dumb but an actual asshole as well.

Three dots pop up on his screen, indicating that they were typing out a response. Peter holds his breath. The dots stay there for a full minute, then:

755-0833: It is. Have you read it?

Not sure it’s my kind of book.

755-0833: That’s what I said before my friend made me read it. Pretty nosy of you to peek, though.

Just curious, I guess. Most people leave books as they are.

755-0833: Right, until there’s a half-naked man on the cover.

He laughs at that. The book must be pretty good for you to bring it to the library.

755-0833: You’d be surprised

Now I’m intrigued.

755-0833: So give it a read. Lol.

C’mon, it’s your book

755-0833: I’ve read it before.

Wow, so it really is top-tier porn

755-0833: Guess that’s for you to find out.

Fuck it. He’ll read the book.

Peter decides to give it a try the next day, since he figures he has nothing better to do. Fifteen minutes, he tells himself. Fifteen minutes no matter how ridiculous it definitely is.

And, to be fair, it’s definitely ridiculous. Forbidden Desires, he learns, is about a shy, small town girl named Kenna who moves to LA for work and falls for her stupid hot boss. Said boss, ripped and intimidating Jack, a cocky asshole with (gasp!) hidden depth that only his new secretary can uncover.

Yeah, it’s absolutely fucking ridiculous. But an hour later and 75 pages in, he’s been officially slow-burned by the Californians.

That’s about how far in the first sex scene occurs and wow.

A middle aged white lady from Orlando wrote this, he reminds himself. Maybe it’s awful of him, but he's briefly upset that middle aged white ladies from Orlando are allowed to write good smut. Because…what on earth?

After finishing the first — of many — sex scenes, he sends Mystery Reader a text.

For your information, Kenna just lost her virginity to Jack.

755-0833: I see. That’s an interesting part. Thoughts?

Hm. Super romantic. Especially the part where she tells him she’s a virgin and suddenly he’s into her.

755-0833: Right? How sweet. Loved the variety in synonyms for ‘penis’, too. Kathryn’s taught me so many new words.

And like… the belt? How thoughtful of him to make her first time so special!

755-0833: The belt! Then the three orgasms? All I got was three minute penetration and some half-hearted fingering, just like most women. Dunno how he did it

So Mystery Reader’s a girl. Like…duh. He kind of guessed that awhile ago. But the confirmation is nice.

Three minutes? I lasted, like, two my first time

755-0833: Oof. Did he or she end up finishing?

This is gonna sound cocky, but yeah, she did.

755-0833: No. And cockiness isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Just look at Jack Reinhart.

My good friend Jack.

755-0833: But seriously, it’s good that you cared about her experience. A lot of men don’t.

A couple days later, he and Michelle hastily meet in the library after Dunn’s lecture to start planning their presentation.

The second they sit down, she’s berating him. “Look, Parker. I don’t like you—”

“I don’t like you either.” He quickly adds with an annoyed huff.

“—but apparently, we have to work together for the next three months. Normally I’d just tell you to fuck off, but I have a 4.4 GPA and don’t plan on fucking that up. I’m not gonna lose my scholarship to Harvard Med School because we don’t get along.”

“Christ, Jones, you made your point.”

“I just think it needs to be understood that no matter how miserable this is gonna be, we still have to give an absolutely perfect presentation. Don’t make things even more difficult than they already are.”

He glares at the table in front of him, biting his tongue. “Yup.”

Michelle sets her textbooks on the table, which interrupts his irritated concentration. “I have some ideas for possible research topics,” she states, pulling her laptop out of her thrifted backpack. It’s obvious that she’s really trying to suppress her frustration and sound as relaxed as possible, but she’s not some elite Broadway actress, which is what she’d have to be to pull it off.

“Okay,” he offers lamely.

“Dunn left it pretty open-ended, so we’ll have to narrow it down based on category. I think that focusing on criminal brain activity and decision making would give us a lot to work with. That, or maybe specifying the subject further and focusing on sociopathic serial killers throughout the last century and the patterns and habits they displayed that were tied to their neurobiological disorders.”

Peter finds himself impressed, and then disgusted that he’s impressed. He clears his throat. “Maybe something a little less…depressing?”

She shoots him an exasperated look. “Neuroethics and criminology are the peanut butter and jelly of science, idiot.”

Nice.

“Whatever, though. I kinda figured you’d say that, so I have more ideas.”

God, he wants to rip his fucking hair out.

“We could also research the contrast between the ethics of neuroscience and the neuroscience of ethics. Or we could approach it clinically, like, do MRIs and studies on cognitive thinking invade the privacy of patients or volunteers since medical staff gain access to the entirety of the brain? Or maybe we could focus on the effects that a variety of drugs have on an individual’s moral compass. For that, we could include stimulants and psychedelics vs. SMRs and SSRIs, and—”

Out of pure impatience, Peter throws his hands up in the air and cuts her off. “That one!” God, she really doesn’t shut the fuck up, he thinks.

Michelle, in turn, looks done with him. “So, the ethical alterations of different recreational drugs.”

He nods, just relieved she’s finished rambling. He’s a little anxious, though, because he can’t tell if the relief comes from genuine annoyance or his upsetting respect for her dedication.

“Fine by me,” she shrugs. “Okay, so, I was thinking that we’d meet every Tuesday after Dunn’s lecture and work on the presentation. If we start next week and work for about an hour every time, we’ll be done a couple weeks before the deadline. I need those extra points.”

She doesn’t, though. 4.4 GPAs definitely don’t need extra points. But he stops himself from making a number of sarcastic quips and just nods. Three more months, he thinks miserably. Just 12 more weeks. 84 days.

It’s gonna be the longest three months in fucking history.

Later that week, Peter’s catching up with good old Kathryn Crosby. He’s texting the mysterious witty smut reader, of course, since no session of Forbidden Desires happens without her.

He really wants to stop calling her variations of “mystery literature-porn girl” in his head, so he sends her a random text.

What’s your name?

The dots appear, then:

755-0833: Nice try. I told you about my inexplainable attraction to Bucky Barnes.

(She had, just yesterday when Peter had confessed that he imagines Kenna looking like Kiera Knightley. Evidently, her hormones have casted the Winter Soldier as Jack Reinhart.)

755-0833: I can’t have that going around campus. I happen to like my reputation.

A nickname, then.

755-0833: Fine. Call me Em.

Em. Emma? Emilia? Emery? He’s dying to know, but he’ll take anything she gives him.

755-0833: And what do I call you?

Hm. Spider-Man.

Em: Ha. Big fan?

Oh, the biggest.

He blushes despite being alone in his bedroom. The innuendo was very much unintentional but he knows she’ll call him out.

Em: The biggest, you say?

He decides to play along.

You heard me.

Em: Mm, I don’t know about that. Jack Reinhart is tough competition.

Jack Reinhart is fictional and so is his chick-magnet of a cock.

Em: He’s real enough when it’s 2am and my vibrator’s out.

Peter swallows, not expecting anything like that from new-friend-Em. But to really no fault of his own, fuckboy mode is immediately switched on.

Yeah? Does he make you cum?

Em takes longer than normal to reply; a full minute, even.

Em: The sex god himself? The dick of wonders? Mr. Powerhouse? Yes.

Which part turns you on the most? Is it when he fucks her in his office with her panties in her mouth? How about when she gets off without his permission and he edges her for hours?

Em: Fuck

Em: It’s when he ties her to the balcony and fucks her from behind.

Fuck fuck fuck. He’s painfully hard, deciding to relieve himself just a little bit and undo his jeans so his cock can breathe.

Oh yeah? Why is that?

Em: Because he has no filter in that scene at all. He doesn’t hold back and his mouth is fucking filthy. The first time I read it, I didn’t stop blushing for an hour.

He has a way with words, doesn’t he

Em: So do you.

Peter literally can’t take it anymore. He throws the fear of perversion and grasps his aching hard-on, working it out of his boxers.

Em.

Em: You do, Spider-Man. It’s seriously hot

He moves to type one-handed and starts pumping himself. He’s so turned on it hurts.

Are you wet, Em?

Those damn dots.

Em: Yes

Are you in bed?

Em: Yes

Are you touching yourself, baby?

Em: Fuck

Em: Yeah I am

Peter takes a heaving breath, fisting his cock faster. His phone dings and when he looks back on his phone there’s a fucking image that takes five long, painful seconds to load.

When it does, it fucking ruins him.

It’s Em, and he can’t see her face, but she’s turned on her side on her mattress in an oversized t-shirt and tiny cotton panties. The photo is neck-down and the shirt is rucked up above her navel. The thing that shocks him the most is her fingers flirting with the band of her panties, her index finger slipping past it towards her cunt. When he looks closer, he can…fuck…see a damp spot between her legs.

And speaking of her legs…holy. Shit.

He’s quick to reply, pumping even quicker.

Em. Fuck. You look so hot.

Em: Tell me something

Anything

Em: Have you ever thought about fucking me

For the last couple days, it’s all I’ve thought about.

Em: What do you think about

You on your knees

Em: Shit what else

I think about making you cum again and again until you’re begging me to stop.

Em: Fuck, I want to cum

I wish I could watch.

Em: I wish you were here. Then you could. And you’d tell me to suck you off after I’m done so you’d cum, too.

Fuck, I’d like that

Are you close?

Em: So close

Cum for me, then.

She’s absent for a minute, but the dots quickly reappear.

Em: God, that was incredible. Fuck. It’s embarrassing how drenched my panties are right now.

Baby

He’s so close he can taste it; the mental image of the panties she showed him completely soaked through pushing him right to the edge. What a fucking minx.

Em: Cum for me, Spider-Man.

His brain must have just, like, stopped working for a minute, because the next thing he comprehends is the dazed stare at his ceiling and the fact that he needs to wash his hands.

He’s in serious, serious trouble.

#told yall i had a surprise!#not my best work but we move #petermj #spideychelle #peter parker x michelle jones #petermj smut #minors dni #fic #spideychelle week 2022 #day 2: college au

129 notes · View notes

nerdyfangirlmel · 2 years

Text

I will never forgive marvel for setting up a coffee shop meet cute and then not going through with it.

#marvel #spiderman #spiderman no way home #spiderman nwh #mcu peter parker #peter parker #tom holland’s spiderman #mj #peter and mj #peter x mj #spideychelle #coffeshop #coffeeshop au #meet cute #that ending scene #michelle jones #michelle jones watson #mcu #avengers

35 notes · View notes

orderoftheavengers · 1 year

Photo

“Boh”

Summary: Maleficent Jadis rejects her Death Eater family and goes by a Muggle-sounding nickname, M.J.

House: Ravenclaw

Blood Status: Pureblood

Wand: Wytch Elm, 11 inches, Thestral tail hair

Broom: Hates flying; prefers teleportation methods

Patronus: Crow

Specialties: Potions, Charms, Legilimancy, Occlumency, Numerology, magical drawing, teleportation, and her own spell: "Boh"

Sorting:

The Jadis-Wandson family was not pleased to see Maleficent break family tradition and go into Ravenclaw. Largely lacking in the rest of her family's Slytherin ambition, M.J. drifts wherever her curiosities take her. She's extremely observant and perceptive, even compared to the rest of the Ravenclaw class. She hides and reveals her deductions with her dry wit. She excels at Potions, Numerology and Charms, but failed Muggle Studies miserably. Though noble and brave when necessary, M.J. is no Gryffindor. She's terrified of heights and doesn't even like flying, instead preferring Appiration (which she illegally mastered before beginning her first year—with some push from that Slytherin family, no doubt). Her fighting style is pragmatic, and while she cares about social justice, she tends to lack Peter's idealism. Ravenclaws are known to think outside the box, and if MJ isn’t a Goth Luna Lovegood, then I don't know what she is. Wand:

MJ’s favorite tree is the Wytch Elm, because of the famous murder. Due to her fascination with death, the Thestral hair core is no surprise. She sure that every wand she tried at Ollivander's "malfunctioned" until she got one the Gothest-looking stick in the store. But Ollivander always admired the most eccentric wand owners, and pegged this kid as a fellow Ravenclaw long before M.J. even considered that she might not go straight into Slytherin. For the rest of her school career, M.J. thought of Ollivander as an inspiration, and took joy in perplexing and creeping out her fellow classmates and professors with her eccentricities just as the old wandmaker did with his customers. "A Fusion of Luna Lovegood and Moaning Myrtle, with a dose of Bellatrix LeStrange!"

...is how M.J.'s classmates, and occasionally professors, described her, when they thought she wasn't listening, and wouldn't take it as a compliment. M.J. disdained her mother's family, the blood-purist Jadis house; but she outright disowned her father's, the infamous Wandsons (murderous dark wizards from the States). The Wandson family was closely related to the Blacks, hence M.J. sharing traits with her Aunt Bellatrix, Uncle Sirius, and cousin Nymphadora Tonks. Since all of her good relatives were dead, she tended to hang out with ghosts more than the living, at least until becoming friends with Peter and Ned. She regularly surprised her classmates by literally appearing out of thin air. She usually popped up to make dry, quippy observations over a copy of the Quibbler. She frequently interrupted Filch's detentions to draw moving, talking pictures of wizards in crisis. By early second year, it was "kind of obvious" to MJ that Peter Parker was the Spider-Wizard. Shortly before this, she'd invented her first spell, at age twelve. That previous summer, M.J. had upset her family, by bluntly pointing out all of the reasons her cousin Delphi couldn't possibly be related to the Dark Lord. All of this, after brushing off her being dusted by Thanos and resurrected with a blasé pragmaticism. "Boh" It was during a class trip to Beauxbatons that M.J. casually showed Peter her new spell: "Boh." What does "Boh" do? It's a conjuring spell, that shoots any short-term need out of one's wand: fire, water, light, a forcefield, Bertie Bott's beans, you name it. The spell only lasts seconds, but it's a lifesaver in a pinch. "Boh" would go on to serve the group well when battling dark wizards like Mysterio. Obliviate! Even the most powerful Memory Charm, cast by the world's most powerful sorcerer, doesn't have 100% of a hold on M.J.'s mind. When a dweeb named Peter Parker enters the Leakey Cauldron and orders a butterbeer from her, M.J. knows instantly that she's seen him before, and there's something very significant about him. For some reason, she thinks of him whenever she casts "Boh."

AN: I really enjoyed cooking up this backstory for Hogwarts M.J. I'm not thrilled with how "No Way Home" ended, but it worked perfectly into this Potterverse AU.

7 notes · View notes