#you also live on stolen land and i don't see you packing up enjoy your turkey

[lecoindecachou]

Americans constantly harassing and threatening Israelis over their government's treatment of Palestine while at the same time getting ready to celebrate their own country's history of genocide in the houses their families only own bc the land was stolen from its righteous owners has to be the biggest irony of all time.

[superwholock36]

~ A Little Taste of Heaven ~ (Peter Parker x Fem!Reader) (1/10)

Sorry for any mistakes! I don't have a beta and this is my first story I've ever put out there! ~ ❤️ Any feed back is much appreciated! I hope you all Enjoy!

Also it has been posted to ao3 as I have an account there under Kprincess3697 so it hasn’t been stolen, Love y’all 🥰

warnings : Mature themes/Explicit content/Action-packed violence/Emotional turmoil/Hostage situations/Romance/Angst summery "Spider-Man swings in to save the day, but ends up stealing more than just a moment—he gets caught in something a little more… complicated. 😉"

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🎵🎶Sweetest Pie • Megan Thee Stallion, Dua Lipa 🎶🎵(link to song)

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Moving to Manhattan had felt like stepping into an entirely new existence. Her old life—familiar routines, the safety net of her small circle—was now miles away, stored in memory boxes and cautious goodbyes. This was supposed to be her fresh start, her big break. She had landed a job at the New York Bulletin, after all.

The title alone had made her giddy with anticipation. A major magazine! She had imagined herself diving into editorial meetings, pitching bold ideas, and seeing her byline in glossy print. But reality had been far less glamorous. Instead of crafting stories, she spent her days running coffee orders, delivering memos, and juggling dry cleaning runs for senior staff.

An errand girl. That’s what she had become.

She fought to swallow the growing pit of disappointment every time her phone buzzed with yet another task. This wasn’t what she had dreamed of, but Manhattan wasn’t one for indulging dreams—it was a place where you either climbed or got swept away. And she wasn’t about to let the city win.

Navigating the bustling streets of Manhattan was like stepping into a current of unrelenting energy. Crowds surged past [Name] in every direction, the air thick with the aroma of street food mingled with exhaust fumes. She kept her head low, her messenger bag slung over one shoulder and her phone clutched tightly in her hand. She had just picked up lunch for her editor, the kind of errand that seemed to define her job lately.

She paused at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. The towering digital screens above her flickered, capturing her attention as they cut into their regular loop of advertisements. The unmistakable face of J. Jonah Jameson appeared, scowling and leaning forward in his signature style that made it seem like he was berating the entire city.

“This just in!” his gravelly voice boomed over the speakers, loud enough to drown out even the relentless honking of taxis. “Another so-called heroic escapade by your friendly neighborhood Spider-Menace. Earlier today, the webbed wonder was spotted in a disastrous attempt to thwart a robbery in Queens, leaving chaos in his wake!”

[Name] watched as shaky footage played on the screens, showing Spider-Man swinging between buildings, dodging blasts of some kind of energy weapon. The scene cut back to Jameson, his face practically crimson with indignation. “Let me be clear, folks,” he continued, wagging a finger for emphasis. “Spider-Man isn’t saving this city. He’s putting you in danger—plain and simple!"

The light changed, but [Name] found herself rooted to the spot for a moment longer, watching the broadcast. Around her, New Yorkers barely glanced up, accustomed to Jameson's rants and the endless stream of breaking news. To [Name], though, it was a strange reminder of the world she now lived in—a world where superheroes and supervillains were part of the daily grind.

She shook her head and stepped into the crosswalk, weaving through the sea of pedestrians. Whatever her own challenges were, she figured, at least she wasn’t tangled up in all that. For now, her focus had to stay on making her own way in this city, one step at a time.

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[Name] pushed open the glass doors of the New York Bulletin, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and a warm bag of takeout wafting up from her hands. The front desk clerk barely glanced up as she hurried past, juggling the precarious tray and paper bag while trying to avoid bumping into her colleagues. Her heels clicked against the polished floor, echoing in a way that made her feel small—just another cog in the relentless machine of the magazine world.

She arrived at her boss’s office, setting the coffee and lunch order down on the edge of his sprawling mahogany desk. He didn’t even look up from his computer, offering only a curt “Thanks,” before diving back into whatever important task demanded his attention.

At her desk—a tiny corner carved out in the bullpen—[Name] pulled out her notebook. Her coffee-stained to-do list stared back at her, mocking her ambitions. Gripping her pen, she doodled absentmindedly in the margins, her thoughts drifting to the stories she wanted to tell, the words she was desperate to write. She couldn’t let this be her only reality. There had to be a way to prove herself, to claw her way out of the errands and into the writing she was born to do.

Before [Name] could take another sip of her now-lukewarm coffee, her work phone buzzed. The caller ID flashed her boss’s name—“Mr. Caldwell”—and she reluctantly answered.

“[Name], I need you to handle a few things for me,” Mr. Caldwell’s voice came through, brisk and to the point. “I’ve got an important meeting this afternoon with Diane Hartridge from Hamilton Publishing. Big deal for us. So, here’s what I need: send out those follow-up emails I dictated yesterday, book me a lunch appointment with Hartridge for next Tuesday, and drop off a package at this address.”

She heard the shuffle of papers on his end before he rattled off an address. [Name] scribbled it down on a notepad, recognizing the street as one not far from her own apartment.

“Yes, sir,” she said, forcing a professional tone into her voice. She could already feel the familiar twinge of frustration creeping in. Meetings with publishing executives, conversations about big deals—those were the kinds of things she had dreamed of being involved in. Instead, here she was, taking notes like an intern.

“And once you’ve dropped that off, you can take the rest of the day off,” Caldwell added, as though offering her a generous gift. “Consider it a breather. You’ve earned it.”

[Name] bit back a sigh. “Got it,” she replied, keeping her voice steady. Hanging up, she glanced at the tasks now piling up on her mental to-do list.

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Back at her desk, she typed furiously, knocking out the follow-up emails with clockwork efficiency. Each one had to be just so—polished, professional, and perfectly aligned with her boss’s expectations. Once she hit send on the last email, she tackled the lunch appointment, navigating the online booking system while fielding interruptions from passing colleagues.

Half an hour later, with her inbox cleared and the reservation confirmed, [Name] leaned back in her chair and allowed herself a fleeting moment of satisfaction. One set of tasks done.

Grabbing her bag and the package from the reception desk, she stepped out into the midday chaos of Manhattan. The familiar surge of people, cars, and noise hit her immediately, but at least the errand would take her near her neighbourhood. She adjusted the strap of her bag, holding the package securely under one arm as she navigated the sidewalks.

Moving in step with the endless tide of Manhattan pedestrians, [Name] felt almost invisible amid the city’s chaotic rhythm. As she turned the corner, a boutique caught her eye, its window display glowing softly under the midday sun. There, on a mannequin, was a dress that immediately drew her in—a soft lavender piece that was sweet and understated. The hem hit mid-thigh, just a few widths away from the knees, with delicate white lace ribbons crisscrossing over the bodice and tied into a playful little bow at the sweetheart neckline. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was undeniably feminine, with just the right touch of charm.

[Name] hesitated for only a moment before stepping into the boutique, the bell above the door chiming softly as she entered. The quiet hum of conversation and the fresh, clean scent that lingered in the air made the shop feel like a little oasis from the noise outside.

“Can I help you find anything?” a cheerful sales assistant asked, her warm smile matching the inviting atmosphere.

“I was actually hoping to try on the lavender dress in the window,” [Name] said, her voice laced with a shy excitement.

“Of course! Let me grab your size,” the assistant replied, quickly disappearing into the back.

A few minutes later, [Name] stood in front of a full-length mirror in the dressing room, smoothing out the soft fabric over her hips. The dress fit perfectly, the lavender colour complimenting her complexion and the crisscrossing lace ribbons adding a playful, feminine flair. She smiled, turning slightly to admire the way it flattered her figure. It was exactly what she needed for the get-together that evening—a simple yet pretty reminder that, even amidst the chaos of her first week, there was still room for moments like this.

“This is the one,” she told herself quietly, nodding with conviction as she stepped back into her own shoes.

Within minutes, she was back out on the street, the boutique’s shopping bag swinging lightly in her hand. The day didn’t seem quite as daunting now. Tonight, she’d celebrate in her new dress, and maybe—just maybe—she’d let herself believe that she belonged here, even if things hadn’t gone exactly as she had planned.

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The bass thumped through the crowded bar, reverberating under [Name]’s feet as she leaned on the high-top table. The evening had been a lively blur of laughter, drinks, and getting to know her colleagues—Hannah, who worked in layout design, and Megan, one of the junior writers. [Name] was starting to feel like she was finding her footing, a stark contrast to the awkward chaos of her first day.

“Wait, so you actually spilled coffee on him? On Caldwell?” Megan asked, her eyes wide with mock horror as she took a sip of her wine.

“Straight on him,” [Name] said, laughing despite herself. “It was everywhere—his desk, his papers, him. I thought I was going to be fired on the spot, but he just looked at me and said, ‘You’ve got five minutes to get me another latte.’”

“That’s iconic,” Hannah said, grinning. “Honestly, not bad for a first day. Could’ve been worse.”

They all burst into laughter, and Megan raised her glass. “To surviving your first week!” she declared, her enthusiasm infectious.

“To surviving,” Hannah echoed, clinking her glass against theirs.

[Name] couldn’t help but smile as their glasses met with a cheerful ring. She felt a spark of warmth in her chest, the camaraderie lifting her spirits. For the first time in a while, she felt like she belonged—at least, a little.

The moment shifted as a couple of guys approached their table, clearly familiar with Hannah and Megan. The women greeted them with easy smiles, the conversation quickly veering into shared anecdotes and inside jokes that [Name] didn’t quite follow. Not wanting to intrude, she offered to grab another round of drinks for the three of them.

Squeezing through the throng of people, she made her way to the bar. It was packed, but she managed to find a small gap to slide into, catching the bartender’s attention after a few minutes of patient waiting. As she rattled off their order, the music thumped louder, almost drowning out her voice. She shifted her weight, waiting for the drinks, when she felt a presence sidle up beside her.

“Hey there,” a man said, his voice just audible over the blaring music. [Name] turned her head to see him leaning against the bar, his shirt slightly untucked and a confident smirk on his face.

“You here alone?” he asked, his tone casually suggestive.

“No, I’m here with friends,” she replied, keeping her voice polite but firm. She’d dealt with this type before—overconfident, pushy, and oblivious to boundaries. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last, but it didn’t make it any less frustrating.

“Ah, come on,” he pressed, leaning closer. “I could keep you company.”

“I’m good, thanks,” [Name] said sharply, her grip tightening on the bar as the bartender set the drinks down in front of her. She grabbed them quickly, balancing the glasses carefully in her hands. “Excuse me.”

The man stepped back, raising his hands as though he’d done nothing wrong. “Alright, alright. No need to be like that,” he said with a crooked grin before disappearing into the crowd.

By the time she got back to the table, her heart was steady again, her annoyance at the man already dissipating into the noise and energy of the bar. Hannah and Megan noticed her expression, though, their conversation pausing briefly.

“Everything okay?” Megan asked, setting her drink down.

“Yeah,” [Name] said, sliding the glasses onto the table. “Just some guy at the bar who couldn’t take no for an answer.”

“What a creep,” Hannah muttered, her gaze darting toward the bar. “Stick with us. We’ve got your back.”

Nodding grateful for the solidarity. She sat back down, forcing herself to focus on the laughter and warmth at the table. Encounters like that weren’t new to her, but they were never pleasant. Still, she wasn’t about to let one guy ruin her night.

As the night wore on, the music seemed to pulse through every corner of the bar, and she found herself swept up in the rhythm with Hannah and Megan. The three of them laughed as they danced in a small circle, occasionally bumping into each other as the crowd pressed around them. Hannah threw her arms up with exaggerated flair, spinning in time to the beat, while Megan leaned in to shout over the music, “You’ve got moves, girl! Where’ve you been hiding these?”

She laughed, shaking her head as she tried to keep up. For a few minutes, there was nothing but the pounding of the bass, the heat of the room, and the infectious energy of shared joy. They pulled her into a silly line dance, half stumbling and laughing through it, before dissolving into giggles at their own lack of coordination.

“I needed this,” Megan said, fanning herself dramatically as they paused to catch their breath. “Best idea ever.”

Hannah nodded, her cheeks flushed from both the dancing and her gin and tonic. “Agreed. But I think our admirers might have other ideas.”

The guys from earlier had appeared at the edge of the dance floor, waving them over with playful grins. Hannah shot Megan a look, and the two of them exchanged mischievous smiles before turning back to her.

“We’re gonna head out with them,” Hannah said, placing a light hand on her arm. “You okay getting home?”

She nodded, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Yeah, I’m good. Don’t worry about me.”

“Text us when you’re home, okay?” Megan said, pulling her in for a quick hug.

Hannah gave a quick wave as they linked arms with the two guys, disappearing into the crowd. Left alone under the flashing lights of the bar, she lingered for a moment, letting the music wash over her. The night had been fun—chaotic, vibrant, exactly what she needed—but as she glanced at the time on her phone, she decided it was probably time to call it herself.

Grabbing her bag, she slipped out of the bar into the cool embrace of the city night. The vibrant pulse of music and chatter faded as the door swung shut behind her, replaced by the layered hum of Manhattan—the sporadic honk of a cab, muffled voices from passing groups, and the occasional rumble of a subway train beneath her feet.

The air was crisp and carried the faint scent of rain on concrete, grounding her as she started walking. She pulled out her phone, glancing at the map briefly to reorient herself. The bar was in a part of the city she didn’t know too well, and the unfamiliar street names were a little disorienting. Still, she figured she’d find her way soon enough. After all, getting lost was part of the charm of living in Manhattan—wasn’t it?

She took a right, then a left, but the streets didn’t seem to align with where she thought she should be. A few blocks later, she realized she might have gone too far in the wrong direction. The tall buildings seemed to close in slightly, their windows glinting faintly under dim streetlights. Her grip on the strap of her bag tightened as she slowed her steps, scanning for a recognizable landmark.

Then she heard it. Footsteps. Heavy and deliberate. They weren’t her own.

Her heart tightened as she slowed her pace, ears straining against the quiet. She risked a glance over her shoulder but saw nothing—just the stretch of empty sidewalk behind her. A chill pricked at the back of her neck, and she shook her head, trying to dispel the creeping paranoia. It’s nothing, she told herself. Just someone else heading home.

But the sound didn’t fade. It grew louder. Closer.

Her heart raced as she quickened her pace, scanning the empty streets for something familiar. Turning into an alley in a desperate attempt to shortcut her way back, she froze. Ahead, blocking the far end, stood two burly men, their shadows stretched long under the dim, flickering streetlight. They didn’t move, but their stance left no question—they were waiting.

Her breath caught, and she spun around, instinctively stepping back toward the entrance she had come through. But her stomach dropped as she saw him. The man from the bar emerged from the shadows behind her, his hands stuffed casually into his pockets as if he’d been out for a leisurely stroll. His smirk was gone, replaced by something far darker. The gleam in his eyes sent a cold shiver down her spine.

He took a slow step forward, his movements deliberate, the click of his shoes echoing against the walls of the alley. “Looks like you got a little turned around,” he said, his voice low and sinister, the friendliness he had feigned earlier now stripped away. “Don’t worry. We’ll help you find your way.”

[Name]’s chest tightened, and her hand gripped the strap of her bag as her mind raced for an exit. Trapped between the men blocking her path and him closing in behind, she felt the weight of the alley pressing down on her like a vice. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but there was nowhere to go.

The man’s smirk twisted into something even darker as he stepped closer, the dim light catching the cold gleam in his eyes. She instinctively took another step back, her breath quickening, but before she could fully process her next move, he lunged.

The suddenness of it made her heart slam in her chest. She jerked back, her movement instinctual and desperate, only to collide hard with something solid. A startled gasp escaped her as she spun around, realizing too late that she had backed straight into the other two men. Their hands shot out like vices, one grabbing her by the arm, the other seizing her bag and yanking her balance off-center.

“Got her,” one of them muttered, his voice gravelly, the sound of it reverberating in her ears as panic clawed its way up her throat.

She twisted and pulled, trying to wrench herself free, but their grips only tightened. The man from the bar loomed closer now, his steps deliberate and almost lazy, as if he already knew the struggle was futile. He adjusted his sleeves, his calm movements a sinister contrast to the chaos surging through her body.

“You made this way too easy,” he said, his voice dripping with malice....

Before he could make contact, a cheery, almost sing-song voice interrupted. “Yoohoo!”

The man froze, his head snapping to the side as Spider-Man crouched casually on the edge of the building above them, giving an awkward wave. “I think it’s you who made this easy,” he quipped, the web-shooters on his wrists already aimed and primed. With a swift flick, a sticky line of web shot out, pinning the man to the brick wall behind him. His smirk disappeared in an instant, replaced by a look of shocked indignation.

“Hang tight,” Spider-Man said, hopping down into the alley with a graceful flip. He landed between [Name] and the two burly men, who were momentarily too stunned to move. “Alright, fellas. Who’s next?”

The bigger of the two lunged, throwing a wide, meaty punch in Spider-Man’s direction. Without breaking a sweat, Spidey caught the punch mid-swing, his free hand scratching at the back of his head as though this was all mildly inconvenient. “Man, you guys really need to work on your timing. Swing and a miss,” he said, twisting the man’s arm just enough to send him stumbling backward.

Before the other man could make a move, Spider-Man shot out another web, sticking his feet firmly to the ground. The guy flailed awkwardly, looking down at his now-immobile boots as Spider-Man turned to him. “And you,” he said, wagging a finger like a disappointed teacher. “I think you should apologize to the lady. Right now. Loudly. And use your nicest manners.”

He tilted his head toward [Name], who stood frozen in shock, her heart still racing from the encounter. Spider-Man turned back to the first man, webbed securely to the wall, and offered a mockingly thoughtful hum. “What about you, Smirky McCreepy? Anything to say for yourself? Or are you good hanging out there?”

The bigger man sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “Apologize? To her? Screw you, Spider-Man.”

“Yeah,” the other chimed in, struggling against the webbing that pinned his feet to the ground. “Why don’t you mind your own business?”

Spider-Man sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “You know, I try to give people a chance. I really do. But you guys just had to go and ruin it.” With a flick of his wrist, another web shot out, sticking the last man to the ground before he could even think about making a move. “There. Now you’re all grounded. Literally.”

He tapped the side of his mask. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., can you let the NYPD know we’ve got a few bad apples here? Alley off 12th and Main. Oh, and tell them to bring extra cuffs—these guys are a bit... sticky.”

“Message sent,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s calm voice replied in his earpiece.

Spider-Man turned his attention back to [Name], his posture relaxing as he approached her. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, his tone softer now. “I mean, I know this probably wasn’t how you planned your night, but... you’re safe now.”

Spider-Man shifted his weight from foot to foot, scratching the back of his head as if he’d suddenly forgotten how to stand properly. “So, uh,” he started, his voice cracking just slightly. “That was, uh, intense, right? I mean, not that I can’t handle it—I totally can—but, you know, I guess you didn’t sign up for alleyway creeps tonight.”

Her heartbeat was still racing, but his awkwardness was oddly comforting. She nodded, managing a small smile. “No, not exactly.”

“Yeah, figured,” he said, nodding along with her, as if trying to convince himself he wasn’t making things worse. “Uh, you’re not hurt or anything, right? No bumps, bruises, or weird Spidey-induced whiplash?”

“No, I’m fine,” she said, adjusting her bag. “Thanks for, you know… all of that.” She gestured vaguely toward the webbed-up men behind him, their muffled protests starting to quiet.

“Oh, don’t mention it,” he said quickly, his words tumbling over each other. “I mean, seriously, don’t mention it—I kind of like to keep the whole ‘friendly neighbourhood’ thing on the down-low. You know, keep the mystery alive.”

Her smile widened a fraction, and he seemed to relax slightly. “So, uh,” he continued, gesturing toward the street. “Do you, like, know how to get home? Or...?”

She hesitated, glancing around at the unfamiliar streets. “Not really,” she admitted. “This isn’t my usual neighbourhood. I was trying to find my way back to East Harlem.”

“Oh!” he exclaimed, his tone brightening. “East Harlem—cool area! Amazing food, great vibes, and, uh, let’s be honest, fewer creeps like these guys.” He gestured toward the webbed-up men behind him. “I can totally get you there! You know, as a bonus for saving the day—or, uh, the night.”

He stepped a little closer, his movements tentative as he caught her uneasy expression. “Hey, uh, you okay? That was… intense,” he said, his voice softening, as if the words were trying to land as gently as possible. “Not that I’m an expert on post-creep alleyway vibes or anything, but you look like you could use an express pass out of here.”

She hesitated, glancing back at the men stuck to the wall. The adrenaline still buzzed through her veins, but the idea of staying here a second longer made her stomach churn. “Yeah,” she said quietly, the word slipping out before she fully realized. “That’d be great.”

His masked head tilted slightly, like he was offering an unseen reassuring smile. “Alright, awesome. So, uh, what’s the plan? Should we do the ‘swinging-through-the-city’ thing? I mean, it’s faster than walking… and less awkward than small talk while we dodge fire hydrants.”

She blinked at him, caught off guard by his casual delivery. “You mean, like... swing? Swing-swing?”

“Yeah!” His voice brightened again as he straightened up, excited by her cautious curiosity. “Trust me, it’s like Uber, but with webs instead of wheels. And also no ratings, please, because I’m still workshopping my moves.”

Her laughter came unexpectedly, cutting through the edge of her fear. “Okay,” she said, brushing her hair out of her face. “Let’s do it.”

“Yes!” His arms shot into the air briefly in triumph before he caught himself. “I mean, cool. Great. Just hold on tight, and, uh, I promise I’ll try not to do any unnecessary flips. You know, unless it looks super cool.”

Carefully, he wrapped an arm around her waist, checking her expression to make sure she was okay with the proximity. When she nodded, he shot a web upward and leapt into the air. The world blurred as they arced high above the city, the rhythmic thwip of his webbing almost hypnotic. Her initial fear dissolved into awe as the view opened up—streetlights stretched below like strings of gold, and the warm summer breeze brushed her face.

“So,” he called over the wind, his tone as conversational as if they were sitting in a café, “East Harlem, huh? You got a favourite taco spot over there, or is it all just about the vibes?”

She laughed, adjusting to the thrill of being weightless. “I just moved here, actually,” she replied. “Still figuring it all out.”

“Perfect timing, then!” he replied, swinging them over a row of townhouses. “If you’re new, you have to try this one little taco truck on 116th. Oh, and there’s this churro cart on the corner of Lex—it’ll change your life. Like, I once ate five in one sitting, and I don’t even have a normal human metabolism.”

Landing briefly on a rooftop, he recalibrated, looking back at her. “Doing okay? I mean, like, no motion sickness or second thoughts?”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling despite herself. “This is… kind of amazing.”

“Kind of?” He playfully gasped, launching them back into the air. “Alright, I’m gonna do, like, 12% more flips now. Just wait—it’ll be amazing amazing.”

She laughed again, the sound surprising even her, as the city continued to blur and twinkle below. The weight of the night’s events eased with every swing, her unease replaced by a growing sense of wonder—and a strange feeling of safety with the masked hero who seemed more human than super.

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With one final swing, Spider-Man landed lightly in an alley behind a quiet row of buildings. He set her down gently, stepping back and pulling at his mask slightly to adjust it. “And here we are—East Harlem. Or, well, technically, this very scenic, definitely-not-sketchy alleyway. But hey, you’re close enough, right?” He let out a nervous laugh, motioning around them with exaggerated enthusiasm.

She laughed softly, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face. The rush of swinging through the city still buzzed through her veins, but now that her feet were on solid ground, she could feel a different kind of energy—one she couldn’t quite explain. “That was incredible,” she said, her voice quieter now, steady.

“Yeah?” he replied, his hands fidgeting at his sides. “Cool, cool. Glad you think so. I mean, it’s not every day you get an airborne tour of the city. Well, unless you’re me. I get a lot of those.”

She stepped closer to him, her heels clicking softly against the pavement. The space between them shrank, and his posture stiffened slightly, as though he hadn’t been prepared for the sudden proximity. “Uh,” he said, his voice cracking just a touch, “you, uh, sure you’re okay? No whiplash? Sore neck? Legs still attached?”

Her lips curved into a small, mischievous smile. She didn’t answer, but her gaze held his, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them.

He froze, his mask hiding what was undoubtedly a deer-in-headlights expression. “I mean,” he stammered, gesturing vaguely to the alley, “you’re safe now! Which is—uh—good. Totally good. Safe is good.”

She tilted her head, still not saying anything.

Peter let out a shaky laugh, tugging at the edge of his mask out of nervous habit. He started to take a half-step back, but his body refused to follow through, stuck somewhere between retreat and a kind of hopeful panic.

Then [Name]'s hand touched his cheek, her fingers light even against the textured fabric of his suit. His breath hitched. “Can I kiss you?” she whispered, her voice so soft he wondered if maybe his mind had made it up. His eyes widened behind the mask, and he blinked a few too many times. “Uh—y-yeah, yeah, totally. I mean... yes,” he stammered, tripping over the words.

She leaned in, her lips brushing against the fabric of his mask, teasingly soft against his covered cheek. Peter froze, his breath catching as the expressive eyes of his mask widened in surprise. For a moment, he was all nerves and stammering thoughts, the usual Peter Parker chaos.

But then, in a move that felt bold even for him, he reached up and tugged the mask just high enough to reveal his jaw, his cheek, and the curve of his lips. His heart pounded as he looked at her, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe… try that again?”

[Name] leaned in, her lips brushing softly against the bare skin of his cheek. It was quick, almost fleeting, but enough to send a jolt through Peter. His breath hitched audibly, and the eyes of his mask contracted again, wide and expressive.

She hesitated for a moment, watching him, testing the waters. Then, with a small, playful smile, she leaned in again, placing a gentle peck on his other cheek.

Peter’s lips parted slightly, his jaw tensing as if he were trying to process what was happening. His gloved hands hovered awkwardly at his sides, unsure of what to do.

“Uh…” he started, his voice cracking just a little. “I—uh—this is… nice.”

Name] leaned in again, her lips brushing the corner of his, feather-light. A soft sigh escaped her, warm against his skin. Peter’s breath hitched, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure she could hear it.

The eyes of his mask contracted slightly, a flicker of surprise and something else—something braver. Slowly, he turned to face her fully, his gaze locking with hers for a heartbeat that felt like forever.

When she leaned in again, her lips found the corner of his once more, lingering just a moment longer. And then, as if drawn by an invisible thread, they both closed the gap. Her lips met his in a proper kiss, soft and unhurried, and Peter melted into it, his gloved hand hovering awkwardly near her shoulder before finally resting there, grounding him in the moment.

What started off as a light peck suddenly turned into a clash of tongues and teeth. He took a step forward, closing the last of the distance between them. Red-gloved hands wrapped around her—one at the waist, just above her lower back, and the other finding purchase at the base of her neck, pulling her deeper into the kiss. She lightly brushed her index and middle finger against his partially exposed cheek before placing the rest of her hand against his covered neck.

With a firm yet gentle touch, he guides her until she is pressed fully against the wall of her apartment complex. His lower hand shifts from her back to the wall, providing stability. She lets out a breathy moan, her head thrown back, and he takes the chance to lavish wet kisses and licks on her exposed neck.

Peter started prepping kisses along her shoulder and up her neck close to her ear. "Fuck~" he panted out, under the mask his pupils were blown out with the lust coursing through his veins. Looking at her, with her head thrown back, lips parted, and hair all dishevelled, did things to him. His heightened senses caught the quickening of her pulse, the heat rising to her cheeks, every subtle reaction she couldn't hide. He shouldn't—but hearing that single word shattered his restraint. "More~" She whispered, her breath hitching as she brought her face back to his, their lips colliding in a relentless cascade of kisses. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her fingers interlocking at the nape of his neck.

She gasped aloud as she felt him lift her effortlessly, as if she weighed nothing. Peter took the opportunity to push his tongue into her mouth when he pressed her further into the wall, his weight pinned her in place as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Matching his intensity, her tongue danced with his in a heated battle for dominance. Her nails skimmed down the back of his mask, a deliberate and teasing motion.

It was as if she had become an entirely different person, a vixen. She was filled with wanton lust for man whose face she had never seen, he had an uncanny ability to captivate her completely. All she could feel was the undeniable heat and pulsing from between her thighs and she needed a release, and soon!

"I… I need more~" She whispered breathlessly, her eyes locking onto what little she could see of his face. His shoulders and chest rose and fell with each panting breath, mirroring her own unsteady rhythm. Her hips began to move involuntary against his own grinding down against a very noticeable bulge, what surprised her was his very own hips pushing up to meet her own thrust down. With each meeting of their hips, her summer dress inched up ever so slightly. "Oh... fuck....Just like that" They both panted aloud, in unison.

Peter couldn't take his eyes off (name) the way she gasped at the delicious friction, the way her hips would push harder into his. Enough was enough he decided to take control of her hips, and set a harsher rhythm. Letting one hand slip from her hips, he brought his index finger to his mouth, teeth grazing the glove's edge as he tugged it loose, letting it fall to the ground between them. As his hand came free, he seized her chin, drawing her into a fiercer, more demanding kiss.

Releasing her grip from the back of Peter's neck, she cupped his face, her fingers grazing beneath the mask that still concealed his nose, eyes, and the rest of his features. For a fleeting, heart-stopping moment, fear gripped him like a vice. His fingers trembled as he released her chin, lurching forward to snatch her wrists. He pressed them between their chests with a desperate urgency, his breath caught in his throat. "No," he growled, his voice dipping low and steady. "The mask stays on." Each word carried quiet authority, leaving no room for argument. "Don't make me web your hands to the wall, because trust me, once that stuff's on, it's not coming off anytime soon." he quipped, his tone low but teasing, the corners of his mouth threatening a sly smile. "Kinky," she breathed with a soft laugh, her eyes glinting with mischief.

Before she could dwell any further on the idea of Spiderman's unexpected kinkiness, he shifted the hand gripping her wrists. The ungloved hand descended toward her panties, its movement deliberate and steady. A breath away from where she truly and utterly needed it most. "Please," she pleaded, her voice trembling with desperation. Peter chuckled, his cheeky smile widening as he leaned closer. 'Say it again,' he murmured, his tone dropped an octave, rich and teasing, as he leaned in, stopping just a breath away from her ear. Panting heavily, her flushed face turned toward him, she managed to gasp, her voice cracking under the weight of her plea, "Please, touch me."

And just like that, the pad of his index finger brushed against her clothed clit, a touch so light it was barely there. And yet, she felt it all the same—electric, unmistakable, A need so overwhelming, it forced another gasp from her lips. "Fuck! You’re not going to break me," she gasped, her breath hitching, the words desperate.

For a fraction of a second Peter grinned mischievously and pressed the pad of his finger further into her covered clit. His head dropped onto her shoulder, a deep, guttural groan escaping him as though he could no longer hold it back - at how damp her lace panties were. He'd made his mind up and surrendered to his baser desires, he deliberately began to coax her clothed core into submission with slow, deliberate strokes. His fingers danced across her sensitive skin in lazy circles, gradually increasing the pressure until she was writhing beneath his touch.

As he continued to tease her with his fingers, the slow, deliberate strokes ignited a fire within her, a flame that grew in intensity with each passing moment. The lazy circles he drew on her skin seemed to awaken a deep-seated hunger, a craving that threatened to consume her. Her body began to writhe and twist, her hips arching into his touch as she sought to increase the pressure, to deepen the sensation.

The fabric of her clothing, once a barrier, now seemed to enhance the experience, the gentle friction of the material against her skin adding an extra layer of sensitivity to the mix. His fingers, deft and skilled, coaxed and cajoled, drawing out a response from her that was both involuntary and irresistible. The pressure he applied, gradual and insistent, pushed her closer to the edge, until she was gasping, her breath coming in short, sharp pants.

Strokes grew more insistent, the pressure increasing, she felt herself being drawn into a vortex of sensation, a whirlpool of pleasure that threatened to pull her under. Her legs, once still, now began to tremble, the muscles tensing and relaxing in time with the strokes, as if urging Peter on, begging him to continue. The air around them seemed to vibrate with tension, the only sound the soft rustle of fabric, the gentle gasps of breath, and the pounding of their hearts, all combining to create a sense of anticipation, a sense of expectation, that seemed to build and build, until it was almost unbearable.

"Oh God," [Name] whispered, her voice trembling with need. "I don't know how much more of this I can take."

"Just a little longer," Peter replied, his voice low and husky. "I just… I don’t want this moment to end. You’re—you’re so beautiful."

And then, just as she thought she couldn't take it anymore, Peter's fingers changed rhythm, his touch becoming more urgent, more demanding. But instead of pushing her over the edge, he suddenly pulled his fingers away, leaving her feeling empty and bereft.

She let out a cry of disappointment, but Peter just smiled, his masked eyes narrowing intensity. He brought his fingers to his lips, tasting the sweet nectar that coated them. His eyes closed in rapture as he savoured the flavour, and she could see the realization dawn on him.

Untangled her legs from around his waist, he dropped to his knees, but in a swift and agile motion, he got her right leg over his shoulder on the way down. The movement was so smooth, so fluid, that [Name] barely had time to process what was happening before she found herself in a new and intimate position.

Peter's face was now buried in her pussy, his tongue licking out to taste her as he supported her weight on his shoulder. She felt his hot breath on her, his lips and tongue working in perfect harmony to drive her wild. Her leg was draped over his shoulder, her foot dangling in the air as he knelt before her, worshiping her with his mouth.

But as he delved deeper, his desire for her became more frenzied. With a swift and savage motion, he ripped her panties down the middle, the fabric tearing apart with a soft rip. [Name] felt a jolt of shock and excitement as the cool air hit her exposed skin, but before she could even process what was happening,

Peter's tongue was back, licking and sucking and probing with even greater intensity. As he continued to devour her, his fingers began to explore, gently probing her entrance before slipping inside. He started with one finger, his index finger, which he slowly inserted into her, feeling her inner walls clench around him. She was tight, but he was patient, taking his time to stretch her out, to prepare her for what was to come.

He began to add more fingers, his middle finger joining his index finger, and then his ring finger, slowly stretching her out until all three fingers were inside her. His fingers curled inside, hitting the spongy tissue that caused her to see stars. She could feel it—an overpowering surge building within, each wave cresting higher, stronger, relentless in its climb toward an inevitable breaking point. And he was her release—this masked hero who currently had her right leg thrown over his shoulder going for gold between her legs.

As he continued to finger her, moving his fingers in and out, in a slow, tantalizing rhythm. His fingers danced inside her, stroking her inner walls, building her pleasure, and driving her wild. With each stroke, he felt her getting closer, her muscles tensing, her breath catching, and he knew that she was on the edge, ready to tumble over into ecstasy.

(Name) couldn’t remember if he’d surfaced for air—he was a starving man, lost in an unrelenting desert, and she, the first drink of water, burned across his senses, igniting something raw and untamed within him. "I could die here, and I wouldn’t even care. This—this is everything" he groaned, his voice thick with passion, His masked eyes narrowed, the expressive lenses contracting as they locked onto hers. His focus was solely on her, and he could see the pleasure and desire reflected back at him, fuelling his own passion and driving him to take her higher.

She broke eye contact, her gaze faltering as she caught sight of her glistening juices clinging to his chin and lips, a sight both distracting and impossible to ignore... Because, damn, was that hot. All she wanted was to run her hands over his head, but that infuriating mask was in the way. "Don't stop," she begged, her head falling back against the rough brick wall, the cold surface grounding her as the moment consumed her entirely. Huffing a quick chuckle, he was back in an instant, his movements swift and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey.

And just like that, the brutal onslaught slammed into her, unyielding and merciless, tearing through her with a force that left no escape, no reprieve, only raw, consuming need. God, could this man eat! His tongue swept over her clit in endless, tantalizing licks—a raw display of pure indulgence. His fingers were unyielding as they bullied her G-spot, retreating only to plunge the trio of digits back in with relentless precision, leaving her wondering if she could endure the exquisite torture for much longer.

(Name) could feel the intense, building pressure, a crescendo of sensation that threatened to overwhelm her, and she knew that if he continued, she wouldn't be able to hold on for much longer, the anticipation and frustration coalescing into a desperate, aching need that begged for just one more touch, one more twirl of his tongue, to send her tumbling over the edge. And just like that, the taut thread of her control snapped, releasing a torrent of pent-up pleasure as her body surrendered to the overwhelming sensation, the dam breaking in a rush of ecstasy that left her shattered,

Peter felt her hand clasp the back of his mask as her back arched, a breathy "Oh~ Oh~, I'm," Her head was flung back, the tendons in her neck straining as her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth agape in a soundless scream, the only sign of her ecstasy a faint, keening gasp that escaped her parted lips. She had no need to announce her climax, for he could sense it in the way her core clamped down around his hand, the right one trembling violently over his shoulder as her body convulsed, and the sudden, silky rush of her cum on his tongue, a primal, instinctual knowledge that sparked a corresponding surge of pride within him.

Coming down from her high, gasps and shallow breaths spilling from her parted lips, she felt an overwhelming urge to tug away the mask of the man kneeling before her. She wanted to see him—not as the faceless figure in the suit, but as the person beneath.

Peter’s Spider-Sense tingled, and his reflexes kicked in. He felt it—the subtle tightening of her hand at the back of his head, the faint tug that followed. Adrenaline surged through him, and his left hand instinctively moved, smacking softly against the wrist of her right hand.

A splat echoed, and her right hand froze in place—she couldn’t move it. Did he? No… he had! He’d done exactly what he’d warned about, webbing her hand firmly to the wall. Lowering her leg from his shoulder, he wiped his chin and lips with his uncovered hand - succumbing to the irresistible urge to lick his fingers.

Despite having just been nestled between her thighs, his fingers still slick with the remnants of her climax, Peter couldn't resist the urge to bring them to his lips, and as he sucked the fingers that had just been inside her, he let out a low, throaty groan, the sound vibrating through the air as he savoured the taste of her, his eyes closing in rapture as he indulged in her flavour. "I told you—the mask stays on."

She wanted to be angry, but she couldn’t—not after the performance. The low, husky tone of his voice, the gentle rumble of his words, and the unmistakable bulge in his pants, all combined to send a pulse of heat straight back to her core, reigniting the embers of her desire and making her feel like she was being pulled under again.

She struggled to pull her wrist free from the webbing that bound her to the wall. "The more you struggle, the tighter it’ll hold you to the wall," he said, his tongue flicking out to brush against his bottom lip. "What?" she gasped, her chest heaving, her breasts straining against the sweetheart neckline as she looked at him bewildered. Noticing the way the eyes of his mask narrowed, his head dipping slightly downward, and the faint, almost hesitant curve of an awkward smile on his lips. "Up here," she called out to him, all traces of nervousness and embarrassment tossed to the wind as she pointed to her eyes.

His head snapped toward her, only to dart away just as quickly. In an instant, he stood at his full height as F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice slipped into his ear, calm but urgent: 'There’s a robbery happening right now at Artisan and Carat in Midtown Manhattan—seven heavily armed suspects, three hostages.' He bent down, retrieving his discarded glove with practiced ease, as F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice chimed in once more, her tone still measured but tinged with urgency. 'If you leave now, estimated arrival is approximately ten minutes. Casualty risk remains low, but it’s increasing,' she informed him crisply. As she spoke, a video feed patched through to his mask’s holographic interface, displaying live footage of the robbers inside the store. His jaw tightened as he took in the scene—the heavily armed suspects pacing, their movements erratic, and the hostages cowering in fear.

She wondered what had caused the sudden shift in his demeanor. One moment, he had been looking at her with that awkward, almost endearing smile, and the next, he was tense and poised, as if ready to spring into action. Her thoughts were interrupted as he reached for the glove on the ground, sliding it back onto his hand with a practiced efficiency. The motion only added to the growing sense that something unseen was pulling him away, his focus no longer on her but on some urgent, invisible call.

He glanced at her, a flicker of hesitation crossing his features as he struggled with the decision. The need to tell her what was happening warred with the urgency to act, to save the hostages before it was too late.

She watched as he adjusted the mask, the transformation so swift it left her breathless. In an instant, he was Spider-Man again—an untouchable figure, every trace of vulnerability buried beneath the red-and-blue façade. Yet, she knew something had shifted. She didn’t need to hear the words to feel the weight of them; the urgency radiating from him was undeniable. Whatever had happened, it was pulling him away.

Peter hesitated, torn by the fear that the woman he'd shared such an intimate moment with might think he had used her. Yet, as F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice punctuated the seconds with time estimates and escalating risks, he knew he had no choice but to act.

Backing into the alley, Peter’s voice came in a rush, tumbling over itself. "The web’s gonna dissolve! Like, really soon! Stop struggling, you’re only gonna make it worse!" The words left his mouth so quickly, they almost blurred together.

Without waiting for a response—or even checking if she listened—he shot a webline and launched himself forward. The pull of the swing was immediate, his grip tightening as he zipped up and away. The city blurred beneath him, a streak of light and sound.

“Peter,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. snapped in his earpiece, her tone clipped. “You’re three blocks off course. Redirect immediately.”

“I’m trying, I’m trying!” he shouted back, adjusting his trajectory mid-swing. His breath was quick, his heart racing as the sharp whistle of wind roared in his ears.

Behind him, her faint voice reached him for just a moment—a fleeting sound he couldn’t make out before the city swallowed it whole. It lingered in his mind, though, even as F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s next instruction pierced the chaos.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

She watched as he backed into the alley, the weight of his words hitting her like a blow. "The web’s gonna dissolve! Like, really soon! Stop struggling, you’re only gonna make it worse!" he called out, his voice sharp and hurried. Panic welled up inside her as she saw the decision he'd already made.

Before she could stop him, he sprang into action, launching himself forward. His web shot out, anchoring to a building, and in a heartbeat, he was gone—soaring through the night sky, the city swallowing him up. Desperation clawed at her throat, and she shouted after him, her voice breaking, "Wait! Don’t leave me like this!"

The cold reality hit her like a wave—she was trapped. Lace panties ripped and discarded pinned to the wall of the alley behind her apartment complex, she struggled against the sticky web, but it held firm. Her eyes darted to her purse, lying just out of reach on the ground. Panic crept in as she thought of everything inside—her phone, her keys—everything she needed to free herself or call for help.

She forced herself to take a deep breath, steadying the panic that threatened to consume her. The sticky web anchored her firmly to the wall, leaving her helpless but determined to keep calm. Her gaze landed on her purse, lying just out of reach, and a flicker of frustration crept in.

"Spider-Man," she murmured softly, almost to herself, her voice tinged more with disbelief than anger. A faint ache settled in her chest—not from the web, but from the realization that he had left her here, pinned and powerless, without so much as a second glance. She shifted her weight, trying to slide down the wall, but the web’s grip made even that a struggle, her pinned hand rendering the effort awkward and futile.

The sting of his absence was sharper than the situation itself. Only moments ago, they'd shared something so raw, so vulnerable, and yet he'd left her here, tangled in this mess without a word of explanation. Did it mean nothing to him? The thought gnawed at her, a hollow ache twisting in her chest. She had trusted him, let him in—and now, she was abandoned and alone.

The weight of it settled over her, sharp and unrelenting. She blinked back the tears threatening to spill, her chest stinging as the reality sank in. She’d been the one to kiss him first, to close the distance between them—but she had thought it meant something more. The way he had taken off, leaving her pinned and alone, stung in a way she hadn’t expected.

Her shoulders trembled slightly as she steadied her breathing, forcing herself to push the hurt aside. Once she was free, that would be it. Spider-Man could swing off into the night for all she cared. She wouldn’t think about him again—not his voice, not his touch, not the way he’d made her feel, if only for a moment.

He didn’t deserve it.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Well... If you got this far then I guess you've finished the first part, and all I want to say is "What did you think?" 😊😳

sorry for any mistakes!

XOXO

[ladyimaginarium]

okay so i hate to be Like That™ but like. i kinda have to laugh at people who think it's just sooooo easy to do this cutesy witchy western cottagecore farm type beat. & that's not even getting into the historical & political context that a lot of y'all settlers in the americas (especially white queers) seem to either fail to grasp or straight up don't give a fuck about. but also from a personal perspective. lemme take y'all back through my family line.

these are my great great grandmother (who was born in 1860 & passed in 1934), great grandfather & great grandmother (who were born around 1894 & 1898 respectively) & my grandfather (on the right, born 1933, he passed when i was really small), my granduncle (he also passed when i was young when i was about 8-9) & their siblings respectively in my maternal line. my great grandfather worked his ass off to get & buy our family this relatively small plot of land (to the point where my specific family has our own street). he worked & farmed the land, & he taught his sons including my grandfather how to farm, hunt & fish. my grandfather like his brothers (& i'd imagine his sisters, too) barely had the chance to be a child because he had to work to support the family. i need y'all to understand that it was hard, backbreaking work. i can only imagine how difficult it was in my great(x2) grandmother's time. family friends & my mom would say my great grandfather was so damn tough he would straight up go into the woodstove & get wood while it was still hot with his bare hands. he died of a heart attack. my mom would talk about how hard my grandfather worked, how he worked for himself & how he'd lend out a helping hand for free to those in need & how at his funeral the church was PACKED to the brim with some people having to linger outside to pay their respects. that's how loved & respected he was.

as you can see, they're indigenous (although it wasn't ever really talked about aside from the occasional whispers, because remember, being indigenous, especially if you were back in the day — & make no mistake still is — was basically considered shameful & inferior to whiteness due to systematic racism & nobody was allowed to practice their culture and/or spirituality and/or religion and/or speak their traditional languages at risk of being imprisoned or sometimes even killed so i'd imagine that played a part on why it wasn't talked about so they assimilated, context matters). they had to work their asses off for what they had.

so when i see all these settler queers, especially queer white women or queer white men talk about how it'd be oh so nice to move away into a seemingly abandoned cottage in the middle of the forest or have a barn with their partners with conveniently abandoned lands i immediately have my eyebrows raised & im immediately sideeyeing you with wary suspicion. my ancestors were hunters, fishers & farmers because they Had to be or else they fuckin starved. & even then they didn't just give a shit only about themselves, they focused on helping others in their local communities because that's how it Works irl. i'm not saying you can't enjoy an aesthetic, hell, i love the pretty visuals & i intend to live out a similar life when i get older (you know, living on MY own traditional land) but if you can't do your own work that's required to sustain the lifestyle responsibly, if you think your queerness or your white/settler status somehow excludes you from this whole manifest destiny but its queer now bullshit, if you think there's no historical or political context behind this & you think it's completely apolitical or you don't respect the lands & the rightful stewards & guardians of those traditional lands (aka indigenous peoples) of the land you live on (because they're STOLEN land & this doesn't just apply to the americas, this applies to asia, africa & oceania & parts of europe too because let's be so ffr indigenous peoples are on every continent) then you're a fucking colonizer. tl;dr: for the love of creator just be aware of the political & historical context of your aesthetics before you start being obnoxious & listen to & center indigenous voices (& poc) in your aesthetics.

[ask-richard-jackdaw]

*a large package is delivered by a disgruntled snowy owl*

Richard,

In anticipation of Thursday, I wanted to send you some supplies. I brewed up some pepperup, wiggenweld and pain potions and invigoration draughts, just in case. I also packed some chocolates, for when you're once again able to enjoy food!

If you find yourself in want of company, or require help carrying supplies to the hotspots, do let me know.

Yours,

Elizabeth 🖤

My dear,

It's always a pleasure to humbly receive A letter from you on the rousing eve Of every Thursday when I am to turn I little more human: your presence to yearn.

It is true, Thursday is almost here and I've had such a wonderful time in the past month turning fully corporal once a week! I still hesitate to call it living since it is not permanent. I am, however, eternally grateful for even those fleeting moments I'm able to catch up on that which was stolen from me so early. 

I must admit, I haven't actually met many students yet because I keep getting distracted on my way to the castle. It's either having some nice food at a friend's place and forgetting the passage of time, or my employer catching me in human form and giving me tasks here and there (I almost paid off that broom!), or running around and trying to see if I can get any period-appropriate clothing. Or at least an extra Hogwarts cloak — I still look like a 7th-year student! My family paid for my education that unfortunate year I lost my head so teeechnically I should still be eligible to finish my final year at Hogwarts? I should be sorting out all manner of paperwork but instead I worry about the colour of the cloak I want to wear once a week!  

*Richard looks up from the letter to steal a glance at Elizabeth's portrait on the wall and then at the photos she took of him a while ago. His hair looks normal there but last Thursday when he examined himself in the mirror his hair still looked like ghost hair. No, it was not transparent but mostly white instead. Maybe ancient magic did not do it correctly that one time? Or maybe Richard focused too much on being a human and not on the details? But he rather liked that colour, perhaps because after decades of seeing himself as a ghost having white hair was in a way comforting. He would never admit to that, of course. Being human again terrifies him: if the papercuts taught him anything it's that his body is very much mortal. The topic of death starts becoming more and more unsettling to him as a result.*

I just looked at what you sent me and... Do you even know how wonderful and thoughtful you are? I will have to make sure to remind you of this every time I get the chance. I think the drawbacks of being in the land of the living are here to stay but at the very least now I do not have to be aware of that misery. You spent so much of your time just to brew those potions for me and I am forever in your debt! 

And chocolate! Believe it or not, but I haven't had any chocolate yet, yours would be the first few pieces I've had in ages! Thank you! 

*Richard whines a little looking at the sweets: he could almost taste her chocolate but he knows that it's just his memory acting up and he cannot actually taste anything. Still, the thought of trying them tomorrow warmed his undead heart.*

I think the potions will stay here in my secret room for now since I start feeling tired and sick closer to the end of the day. That way I can just stop by if I feel like I need some more energy. My Scribe managed to find some pillows and a blanket for my sofa last time so that pain relief potion will come in rather handy when the night falls: it'll actually allow me to fall asleep without feeling like my body is falling apart. At least I hope it wor 

And I most certainly would love to visit some more people! If I don't get distracted by food again. Or fall off my broom again. I've also been dreading of going to the Olivander's to get a new wand... I feel so silly not being a ghost and only being able to cast basic wandless magic things... 

Anyway, I hope our paths do cross tomorrow. Your potions will literally be guarding my sleep in the night. As for you being their creator, does that make you my... guardian angel? If it is not the case then I must assure you: you are a very talented, kind, and thoughtful witch, and I would choose your company over that of even the most beautiful of angels — for your beauty is the one I wish to behold not only with my own eyes but with my heart as well.

Yours forever grateful,

Richard

[miraculous-trinity-leo]

Whacky Gotham, Goofy New York, and Chaotic Paris

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7)

Chapter 3: Kindred Spirits Always Find A Way To Assemble

•—–—–†–—–—•

Time: 5:30am

location: Louvre

Ladybug, Abeille, Bunnyx, Trickster, and Chat Noir are fighting an akuma, not anything major, just Mr. Pigeon and his pigeons trying to melt the Louvre with deadly acidic bird dropings, so yeah, nothing major. Just another early bird gets the akuma kinda day...

"Looks like the early bird is trying to melt the Louvre, what say you M'lady, shall we make this swift and- *Loud sneeze* Let me now *sneeze* when I'm *sneeze* needed" - Chat Noir

"For to long our kind has been oppressed, they feed us miserable seeds, when we beg for bread, we shall show them no mercy, as our justice shall be swift!" picks up two pigeons, holds them by their legs and aims the rear cannons "Surrender your Miraculous and your justice shall be swift and painless!!" with an evil villain laugh at the end bla bla bla.

" Anyone else getting Pigeon (French) Revolution vibes? No? just me? Cause I swear he said seeds instead of cake."

"Not the time Bunnyx." - Abeille

"Oh it so Is The Time." - Bunnyx

"Off with Mr. Pigeon Antoinette's Akumatized object!" - Chat Noir from a distance.

"Viva La Revolution!!!" - Trickster

"Dear Kwami, how did it come to a frickin Pigeon Revolution?!" - Ladybug

As the last line is said, Mr. Pigeon fires the -ehem- cannons at the heroes, only for them to be an illusion. In the confusion Bunnyx pops out of her burrow and wacks Mr. Pigeon on the head, effectively knocking him out.

"The Pigeon Revolution is over, we have taken back our home, and shall continue to defend it from the creepy Man of MOTH!!!!" - Bunnyx

and with that Bunnyx brakes the Akumatized object, and Ladybug purifies the akuma.

"Ok, I will admit that last speach was funny, now lets hurry back before hells bells go off." - Ladybug

•~—~—~—~—~—~—~•

" Bla bla bla, nothing important, bla bla bla bla, yada yada yada bla yada." - Mrs. Bustier

"'Viva La Revolution', that was perfect." - Whispering Alix

"It just came to me, but Chats 'Off with Mr. Pigeon Antoinette's Akumatized object' line and your 'Man of Moth' speech were really well timed !" -whispering Peter

"well of course, I'm always punctual with any time sensitive joke/pun." -whispering Alix

"Will you to zip it! we can't have these simpletons finding anything out!" -whispering Chloé

"Please, they all share a broken defective regect of a brain cell, I doubt they could ever put two and two together." -whispering Alix

"Hey, do you think we should start a protest in our classroom?" -whispering Peter

"... Viva.La.Revolution!" - whispering Chloé with a mischievous grin

"No." - Maria

•~—~—~—~ Later when Mrs. Bustier is out of class ~—~—~—~•

"I just don't know what to do." - Lie-la

" You think she finally realized how horrible that hair style is?" - Alix

"After visiting Gotham a few months ago I met Damian Wayne, you might've heard about him, he's just so amazing, kind-hearted, and brave. We had a wonderful time, but then he asked me out! And I don't want to hurt Parkers feelings, I care for both of them!" - Lie-la

"Man, she must be extremely full of it to keep pulling that sh-t out of her @ss every hour or so." - Alix

"Wow Peter, didn't know your cared for Ms. Rossi like that" - Chloé said in a sarcastic tone.

" I'd rather strap her to a supersonic rocket heading for a black hole, and I'm pretty sure this Damian Wayne would do the same... he probably has the money for it actually." - Peter

" Enough plotting, we still need to get enough money, if we want that summer trip, we've already crossed off: Baking sales, becoming a mime, jobs are out unless they're fine with you leaving right after joining, and we can't just ask for donations." - Maria

" I can use my MDC mon-" - Maria

"Oh hell no you won't! You worked your butt off to get that money, you said it yourself! That money is for when you apply to college! I refuse to let you waste your money on our ignoramus classmates!" - Chloé

Thankfully by now everyone was out of the classroom.

" Oh Kwami she's serious, she never uses her big words!" - Adrien

" Then what do you suggest Chloé?" - Maria

" I'll ask daddy to pay!" - Chloé

" I can also ask my father, he'll probably do it if Mr. Bourgeois puts in a donation." - Adrien

" But- " - Maria

" No! The decision is final all in agreement say aye!" - Chloé

"Aye!" - Everyone

"You've watched to many movies Chloé, fine, but please don't drastically overdo it." - Maria

" When have I ever drastically overdone something? Name one time." - Chloé

"Well, there was the time you over did it, by not sleeping for almost three weeks." - Maria

" and after that you got so fed up with one akuma that you kicked him with the force of a thousand suns down unda, you may have scared him for life after that honestly. " - Adrien

" Oh! or the time you went overboard with Peters B-day, and the cake landed on his face! - Alix

"Well in her defense, the cake was great, but it was kinda a mouthful." -Peter

"... I said name one time. (ー_ー)" - Chloé

•~—~—~—~—~—~—~•

Sooo, after all that happened Mr. Bourgeois, Fallowed by Gabriel Agreste, gave a very generous donation, so that solves that problem.And since I'm sure you don't want to see (More Lies) boring stuff, lets skip to two days before the trip begins.

〜(꒪꒳꒪)〜time skip " You're welcome, I'm here all eternity." - Bunnyx〜(꒪꒳꒪)〜

•—–· At Chloés Hotel ·–—•

"Ok are we sure we have everything?" - Maria

" Yes now can we please watch something already, we've triple, and even quadruple checked everything, we're good." - Alix

" I have to go out and inform Tempête and Vipère, before anything else, be back soon." - Maria then heads out calling upon the other heroes.

" So what do you need?" - Vipère

" Do you have a top secret mission for us?" - Tempête

" For the summer Abeille, Bunnyx, Trickster, and Chat Noir will be unavailable, unless they are truly needed, I however will be able to travel back and forth via portals for fights. Paris will be in your care while we aren't here." - Ladybug

"It is our honor, we shall defend Paris with our lives." - Tempête

" Agreed, enjoy your summer." - Vipère

"Thank you, stay safe."  and with that Maria headed back to the hotel prepared to watch movies, only to be bombarded with questions as soon as she got back.

" HOLD UP! You know MAGIC?!" - Alix

" When were you going to tell us?!" - Chloé

"So cool, how does it work?" - Peter

" Can you teach us?!" - Adrien

" Spots-Off, yes I know magic, I swear I've told you before. Do you want a demonstration?" - Maria

They all shook their heads excitedly.

" Ok well, I'm able to Heal myself if I get hurt, but I don't wish to hurt myself just for that, I can also increase my Luck with magic, as well as Communicate/ Manipulate plants, and see peoples Souls, thanks to Tikki. I learned Protection magic thanks to Wayzz, and Illusion magic thank  to Trixx. I'm also learning Teleportation from Kaalki, which I've almost completed, and Mutitude from Mullo, which still needs work." - Maria

" If you can really talk to plants, what did we do earlier while you where out, hmmmmm?" - Alix

Maria then walks over to the roses near the couch and whispers to them, after a moment she turns back to her friends, and calmly says "Traitors."

" What do you mean?" - Peter

" You continued watching Star Wars: Clone Wars Without me!" - Maria

" Ok we believe you, but does this mean we can also use magic?" - Adrien

"Hmmm, let me see" as she says this her eyes start to glow an almost ethereal icy blue.

" Why are you eyes glowing?" - Chloé

"Looking at you souls... ok" she then claps her hands and her eyes go back to normal "Adrien, you can use slight Destruction magic on objects, if you use it on a person it would just cause them extreme pain, you can also cast Bad Luck on someone, so I guess thats good, and you can also learn slight Jubilation magic. Peter you can learn Illusion, and Protection magic. Chloé you can Learn Subjection, and Multiplication magic. And Alix, you can learn Evolution, Intuition, and Teleportation magic." As Maria finished, she saw the star struck looks in their eyes at the thought of learning magic became obtainable for them.

"Teach us!" they all bowed only to get a laugh from Maria in response.

"You would have to ask the Kwamis that, I only know what I know thanks to them." - Maria

And for most of the night they all started practicing magic. And when they woke up, they continued to practice, they had fun and were really enjoying it.

Then came the day Maria and her friends were to head for Gotham, and it was hectic, but everyone made it in one piece after an 8 hour flight, which at this point Maria was glad she sent all of her important luggage ahead of time, because somehow her luggage with only her toiletries and pyjamas was stolen, so all she had now was her back pack on her and the Miracle box in a Pocket dimension (thanks to the training from Fluff and Kaalki)

Lila was annoyed, when Maria didn't even care that she lost her bag with all her stuff (jokes on you she sent that one to the hotel 2 days ago HA!) they ended up checking into the hotel, everyone was with someone, Peter was with Adrien, Chloé was with Alix, and Maria... just had the Kwamis, yup that's right, apparently Lila has a condition that prevents her from being in any room below a quality vip room, so now she was upgrade and without a roommate, good for Lila, and Lucky for Maira, because now she doesn't have to worry about someone noticing her climbing out the window to go free-running across rooftops as Multimouce.

Around 7:30 pm. everyone heads out for lunch... and they leave Maria behind.

"Of course this happens." and with that she asked the receptionist for the directions to where her class went, afterwards she went out and proceeded to get lost, after trying to retrace her steps, she just got lost quicker, and her phone was at 20% what luck.

After walking for a little bit, she had decided to take a break, and as she leaned up against a wall, she closed her eyes.

'Maybe if I search for the receptionists Soul I can find my way back.' as she was doing this, she saw souls of all colors walking by, she even noticed a dark emerald green soul, and a dark blue soul across the street on a rooftop... and then she felt her hair stand on end, a few feet to her right was a bloody rust looking soul, she could tell it was a male, late 20s, average build, and 5'11, he was targeting her. As she opened her eyes  she did a quick scan of her seroundings, noticing an alley, she started to walk again. Sensing the slight increase in speed from the man now behind her, as he got closer, she made a sharp left into the alley, she made it a few feet in before the man started laughing and walking closer, she saw the disgusting look in his eyes, and the outline of a gun in his front left pocket.

"Come on now girlie,  I just wanna talk."

" I am good thankz." she made sure to add an accent to make him feel like he had an upper hand, which seemed to work, if his sickening smile was anything to go off of.

He stepped closer and Maria (the little genius she was) decided to act nervous, which only lowered the guys gaurd even more, once he reached to grab her in a quick motion she proceeded to do this.

She held the guy in a lock until he fell unconscious. As she stood up, she noticed a hand reaching for her, she then grabbed the hand and flipped the figure over her shoulder hard, hearing a yelp from the man as she did so.

When she realized who she had flipped over, her face turned bright red

"Mon dieu, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you are you ok Monsieur Nightwing?!"

"Yeah I'm fine and don't apologize, reflexes like that are key to survival here in Gotham, isn't that right Robin.... Robin?"

When Nightwing didn't get any sound from Robin he looked over to see the boy a blushing mess, then Robin snaped out of it, cuffing the mugger, and turning his attention to the girl.

" Ehem. Mam it's dangerous to be out here at this time alone, please allow us to take you wherever you need to go." - Robin

"Oh thank you um, do you know where Wayne Hotel is? I was supposed to go with my class to dinner, but they... “forgot” me, I decided to try and meet up with them, but I failed horribly." - Maria

"Wait they just left you? and in Gothan of all cities?! What kind of teacher does that?!" - Nightwing

" An instegator." - Maria said under her breath in French, she didn't notice the slight shock on both their faces from what she said.

"Anyway lets get you to your hotel before it gets any later." - Nightwing

"Thank you again." - Maria

She arrived safely, thanks to Nightwing and Robin, she thanked them one more time and went inside, when she got to her room she found her friends pacing back and forth in the room, Chloé and Peter looking like they would soon become two people on a mission to find her, but thankfully she was back, she of course had to answer alot of questions, but that was no big deal. After answering all their questions, everyone went to their rooms, and fell asleep, they had a big day tomorrow afterall... ... and then Marias' Akuma alert went off, ok so it took about thirty minutes to defeated the akuma 2 more before she could cure anything and another 5 minutes before she could head back to her room, and it was now 2am, but she could still wake up early right? hehe (・–・;) right?

No, the answer was no she couldn't, well technically she was up on time for when the bus "should" have started getting ready to leave, BUT turns out Lila SOMEHOW, managed to get everyone on board without even thinking of her an hour early! Maria asked for directions once again, and the receptionist had a worried and apologetic look on her face, Maria thanked her again, and headed out, this time however, she made it without getting lost and without getting mugged, Yay! She even had enough time to get a coffe (Tim special was a wierd name but oh well it did the job pretty well) from a shop near by (double yay!) before entering the WE building.

" You have to start the tour! we've been here for an hour and thirty minutes already!" - Ms. Bustier

"Like I said before, I will not start the tour until your student gets back, and if they don't get back, then we better hope nothing happened to them, or else it's your fault for your negligence." - Tour guide

"Sorry I'm late, the bus left earlier than what we scheduled, why didn't you inform me about the change?" - Maira

"Lila said you were the one who made the changes and that you were just trying to get attention, I am VERY disappointed in you Maria, now apologize to your class for delaying the tour!" - Ms Bustier

"I think you mean “I'm sorry we left you behind in a city where murder happens to young kids on a daily basis” now you apologize to Your student that is Your responsibility." - Tour Guide with a glare that could kill a thousand armys

Ms. Bustier proceeded to apologise to half the class's disbelief.

"Alright then, now that thats all taken care of, Hello and welcome to Wayne Enterprise, where we focus on making Gotham and the world a better place. I'm Dick Grayson, and I'll be you tour guide for today."

As the tour went on Maria stood at the front with her friends, she took notes of everything that was said, and she ignored whatever nonsense Lila was spouting, somthing about saving or dating Damian Wayne, she didn't really care.

When the lunch break came, she sat with her friends until she needed a long overdo refill on her coffee, she walked over to the coffee machine and started figuring what combination will keep her brain working for the rest of the day.

"Press button 3 followed by 5, 6, 8, 1, 2, 4, 9, and 7, that is the ultimate coffee mixture, if your mortal self is up for the challenge." - Sleep deprived guy

"I accepte." she presses the buttons in the exact order and then " Wait none of the cups are big enough."

"Here, secrect cup, from beyond the mortal realm." - Sleep deprived guy

" Thanks" she grapped the very large cup, and filled it with coffee till it was almost to the rim, she put the lid on and instantly took a big sip from the scolding hot coffee (she can heal, her tongue's fiiiiiiine)

"... Not bad, taste similar to the Tim Special I had earlier, but maybe a bit stronger." - Maria

" Kindred Spirit, let us be friends, you have drank the sacred coffee and are now immortal, congrats." - Sleep deprived guy

"It was not easy, but I have come this far, and I shall go the distance with nothing but coffee in my veins." Maria said in a serious tone as they shook hands "I am Maria, keeper of all nighters, and who might you be, my kindred spirit."

"I am Tim, the keeper of sacred coffee and all that is unholy."

"It was an honor to meet you Sacred Tim, may the coffee gods guide you in your journey, sadly we must part ways, for the lunch break is over, farewell..." and with that Maria left to rejoin the group.

"Dear god where the hell did you get that much coffee?!" - Chloé

"Kindred Spirits always find a way to assemble." - Maria

"Huh, so there is someone out there who is also a sleep deprived child." - Alix

The tour continued, and Maria noticed their tour guide kept looking at her with growing concern as she slowly made her way through the lovely coffee, she finished the cup within 1 hour and 30 minutes, and most of the staff kept looking at her as she now held the empty unholy cup, that was said to put people (that weren't chosen by the coffee gods) into caffeine induced commas, but she was fine, if anything she was more awake than yesterday and today combined. So yeah Today had a rocky start, but I'd say things are only just beginning.

•—–—–†–—–—•

〜(꒪꒳꒪)〜 Bonus Art 〜(꒪꒳꒪)〜

This is what it looks like from Marias' normal vision, to her Soul Vision (~‾▿‾)~

Chapter 3 completed, hope you're all having a wonderful day, and staying positive BUG-OUT 🐞💮🐞

〜(꒪꒳꒪)〜 Tag List 〜(꒪꒳꒪)〜

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@lupagrimm

[phoenixhalliwell]

Do You Want to Know A Secret?

Pairings: Frankie 'Catfish' Morales X Gender Neutral Reader

Word count: 3100

Author's Note: Good Evening all, Welcome to my first ever fic! So if you somehow stumble upon this, I hope you enjoy it and if you don't please be gentle with me :P I tried to write this as inclusive as possible ( I've given them a nickname to keep myself right when writing) so I hope I've done a good enough job of it. Also I hope you don’t mind that I’ve tagged you guys in this. 

@catfishingmorales​ @cinewhore​ @wickedfrsgrl @abuttoncalledsmalls

Frankie happens to meet the younger miller sibling at a party and drama ensues.

 Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Frankie tightens his grip on the steering wheel of his truck and tries to keep himself calm. The loud music from the party drifts in through the window, causing him to sigh.

'It's just party, it's a safe place. Your brothers are inside. Just go in, have a drink, show face and if it gets too much get the fuck out of dodge.' He repeats the mantra over and over again. So caught up in his thoughts, he doesn't see movement out of the corner of his eye.

BANG

"MOTHERFUCKER" Frankie nearly launches himself through the front window at the sudden interruption.  Heart racing, he turns to the source of the noise, only to see Santiago giggling with his face pressed up against the door.

"I swear to God Pope, one of these days I'm going to end you!" he growls, quickly opening the door and knocking his friend in the face with it.

"Owwwww" Santi whines, rubbing his nose. Frankie just smirks.  "Serves you right pendejo" Grabbing his cap off the passenger's seat, he shoves it on his head like a protective shield and jams his hands in his pockets.

"Thought you were never gonna get out of that fucking truck Fish" Santi teases but only receives a half hearted shrug of the shoulders in return. He feels a pang of sympathy for his friend and quickly  tries to reassure him.

"Look, I know you're not the best with people, but it's a party! Just have a drink and relax. God knows you need to chill out yeah? Lets head in, it's fucking freezing out here."

Both men trudge up the driveway towards the house, Santi gives Frankie a playful nudge before opening the door and heading inside. Frankie takes a deep breath to brace himself before heading into the 'warzone' The Millers party is in full swing. With the combination of Will's organisation (there is enough alcohol here to open a liquor store) and Benny's love of people, the house is jam packed and the party goers want for nothing while they are here. Santi is in his element and happily mingles with everyone, smiling and hugging people as he goes. Frankie makes a beeline for the kitchen, his usual designated safe place and finds Will  already there, chatting away to an unfamiliar face. Will's face lights up when he eventually sees his friend and calls out

"Hey man! Didn't think you were actually going to make it"

Will excuses himself from the person he was talking to and rushes over to give Frankie a bear hug.

"Pope can be pretty persuasive when he wants to be" Frankie has to shout a little to be heard.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, Santi tackles Will from the side and a tussle breaks out. Frankie just rolls his eyes and grabs himself a beer to watch the show. The boys have a quick catch up in the kitchen before Will is stolen away to play party host. Frankie is nursing his second beer and trying to keep himself calm when he suddenly gets a quick jab in the ribs from Santi.

" What the fuck man?" he growls at his friend. Santi slides closer to him before informing him

" You've caught someone's eye hermano" and subtly nodding over to someone behind Frankie.

Frankie does a quick glance over his shoulder to where Pope gestured and suddenly feels his breath leave him. Standing in the corner of the kitchen has to be the most beautiful person he had ever had the pleasure of seeing. While everyone else is decked out to the nines, they have opted for a more casual approach which he loves. A further glance up and he sees the warm smile which is currently being given to him. Be still my beating heart is all Frankie can think. Ever the Hawk, Santi notices his brother's heart eyes and doesn't hesitate to shout over.

"Hey! Fancy joining us? "

Well that sure as hell snaps Frankie out of his daydreams and panic runs through him. Whipping round he sees  Santi wiggle his eyebrows at him and shoot  him a thumbs up with a shit eating grin. Frankie feels his face flush muttering curses under his breath. He's definitely going to end Pope, he just has to figure out how to make it look like an accident. Their new guest is quick to make their way over to them and introduces themselves.

"Hi, I'm jinx"

Frankie gapes down at the hand that is currently extended to him but makes no move to shake it. He feels utterly betrayed by his body right now.' Why are you so fucking awkward?' He wants to shout to himself.

Jinx gives Frankie an unsure look as though maybe regretting coming over. Santi is quick to take the lead  and playfully pushes Frankie out the way to  get to Jinx.

"Jinx! What a great name. I'm Santiago and this useless bastard here is my favourite flyboy Frankie" Jinx lets out a belly laugh at this and Frankie has to hold onto the counter to keep himself upright. A small pang of jealousy shoots through him at the thought of Santi being able to make Jinx laugh like that. 'Smooth bastard' he thinks bitterly. After a few moments of listening to the two of them talk, Frankie gets his wits about him and is able to engage Jinx in a conversation. And boy is he given a run for his money. Jinx is funny, sharp as a tack and sarcastic as hell. Frankie finds himself falling a little deeper as time goes on and can't for the life of him remember now why he didn't want to come to this party. Time seems to fly by and he doesn’t want to ever leave.

" I see you boys have finally met the baby of the family"  Benny interrupts the moment, slinging his arm around Jinx's shoulder, squeezing their cheeks together before ruffling their hair. Jinx squawks in outrage and lands a sold punch on Benny's shoulder, causing him to wince. The ensuing sibling squabbling begins to fade out as Frankie feels the colour drain from his face.

"Wait. You're Y/N Miller???? I thought you said your name was Jinx?" Santi questions, casting a glance at Fish.

" It's a nickname my brothers gave me because everything always goes to shit whenever I get involved" Jinx replies,  face heating up.

Frankie is in the middle of a meltdown at the new revelation. He Looks between the two millers and draws a complete blank. There is no family resemblance there whatsoever and he can't see a trace of Will either. Then a word flashes in Frankie's head   "ADOPTED" Of course! He'd forgotten that part. Of all the people at this fucking party, he had to be pining after his brothers' younger sibling. Frankie groans in realisation, causing everyone to turn at look at him in sync.

"You good there Fish? you're looking a little pale." Frankie is suddenly brought back to the group, embarrassed by being  caught out.

"Fine, awesome, Fantastic" Frankie replies with a nervous laugh. Benny narrows his eyes at him before  throwing another curve ball into the conversation, causing Jinx to blush.

"I hope the two of you kept your hands off baby Miller, I know what you're like Garcia!" Benny warns, point a finger at him.

"Not me you have to worry about" Santi mutters under his breath, causing Frankie to elbow him roughly in the side. Benny just glares at the both of them. 'And that is enough fun for one evening, time to retreat' Frankie decides and makes his excuses to his friends. He makes sure to tell Jinx how lovely it was to meet them before hightailing it out of the kitchen. He's nearly at the front door when he feels a hand on his arm and turns to see Jinx looking at him nervously.

" Look I know this goes against protocol with you and the guys, but I had a really fun time tonight and I'd really like to spend more time getting to know you if you were interested as well. .."  Jinx is suddenly cut off by Benny shouting "YO JINX WHERE YOU AT?"  Sighing, they shove a piece of paper into Frankie's hand , and give it a tight squeeze.

" Balls in your court  Frankie" and then they disappear into the crowd to find Benny. Frankie looks down at the number in his hand, hardly believing his luck. Maybe Pope can live another day.

 After a lot of back and forth, Frankie bites the bullet and texts Jinx. Palms clammy he rewrites the message for the millionth time before launching the phone on the table and throwing himself dramatically on the couch. He has had found a lot of bad thoughts creep into his mind over the past few days since the party which kept him from messaging sooner.  

'What have I possibly got to offer? Am I good enough? Why would they want to get involved with a washed up old army man? What if this is a joke? Frankie is pulled from his thoughts by a loud buzz and a coldness washes through him. Moment of truth. Taking a deep breath before glancing down at his phone, a surprised laugh suddenly escapes him.  

Messaged received from Jinx: Took you long enough flyboy. You owe me dinner for making me wait.

 It's been so long since he had felt this light and care free and it was all thanks to Jinx. After messaging constantly back and forth, it was decided that their first date would be at a cosy little diner. This eased Frankie's mind as he was already a nervous wreck without bringing a fancy establishment into the mix. It was easy to talk to Jinx and Frankie found himself pouring his heart out about his past mistakes: about his substance abuse, how his license had been suspended and how he'd lost his wife and daughter because of it. Shame welled up in him but was swiftly chased away with the feeling of Jinx's hand covering his and the sweet smile they gave him. The next few weeks were honestly the best of Frankie's life. The couple had come to an agreement  that they would keep whatever was going on between the two of them to themselves. To allow their relationship to bloom without any outside interference (i.e The Miller brothers) Frankie would wake up to texts wishing him good morning which made his day that much brighter. They would sneak in  frequent date nights and their stolen kisses always made him feel like a teenager. His favourite night had to be when they had went out a drive in his truck and sat in the bed of it looking at the stars and making up constellations to make each other laugh. He had made sure to bring a blanket with them and the feeling of Jinx in his arm's quietened all the noise in his head. He was finally at peace.

Of course he felt guilty about sneaking around with Jinx behind his brothers backs but the more time they spent together, the less Frankie began to care about the 'betrayal' His friends started to get a bit suspicious of his sudden shiftiness but Frankie was quick to assure them that everything was fine. And everything was fine until one Santiago fucking Garcia had to go and ruin everything. One night after a nice dinner and drinks at a nearby restaurant, Frankie and Jinx ended up back at his house for the evening. As soon as the front door closed, the couple were all over each other unable to keep their hands to themselves. Giggling, Jinx dragged Frankie to the couch before playful pushing him onto the couch and quickly straddling him. Hands roam each other's bodies and they are just getting into the swing of things when the front door was rudely thrown open and Santiago came marching in

"Frankie what the fuck man why aren't you answering my tex....."

Santi stopped abruptly in the living room doorway, doing a perfect imitation of a fish. Both parties just stare at one another before Santi suddenly points at them and shouts

" I fucking knew it!!!!"

" Please, you didn't know shit" Jinx scoffs while Frankie hid his face in his hands out of sheer embarrassment of being caught. Sighing, he gently rolled Jinx off him onto the couch and received a confused look in return. Frankie dragged himself off the couch and made his way to Santiago, grabbing his shoulders and looking him straight in the eye.

" Pope, I need you to listen to me right now ok, this is important. Me and Jinx have been seeing each other for a couple of months now and its going so good man. I haven't been this happy in a long time. But you CANNOT say anything to Will or Benny about what you saw. If they find out they're going to kill me!"

Santi looks between the two of you, noticing the way Jinx nervously bites their lip, waiting for his answer. Crossing his heart, Santiago nudges Frankie.

"Don't worry guys, your secrets safe with me"

What a load of shit.

 *a few weeks later *

"OK boys listen up! I want a clean fight. Smack talk is allowed but absolutely no contact or you will be disqualified." Jinx announces to the room.

On one side of the table, Santi is rubbing Frankie's shoulder, furiously whispering instructions into his ear, while his friend is just nodding numbly along but not really taking anything in. Across the way he sees the Miller boys sending him death glares. Frankie gulps, why did it have to come to this?

After Santi (who still feels really guilty about it) accidentally let it slip at boy's night the previous evening that Frankie and Jinx where sneaking about together, shit hit the fucking fan. In a slight rage, Benny had tried to strangle Frankie for "breaking the bro code" while Santi  tried to pry them apart all the while pleading Fish for forgiveness. Will  was pacing the floor off to the side giving Jinx a lecture down the phone about the sanctity of brothers in arms and " WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE FRANKIE JINX?"

Eventually the drama had simmered down and an agreement  had been made. This would be settled through a good old game of Beer Pong (which Jinx had picked because the whole crew were all abysmal at it) The terms and condition where as follows:  If Frankie's team won, he could continue seeing jinx to his hearts content and nothing would be said on the matter.  If the Millers won then Frankie was to never see the youngest Miller again and would be forced to live a life of exile ( Will eventually talked his brother down to Fish having to spend a week in the 'doghouse' for his transgressions) Jinx was chosen to referee the match because there wasn't anyone else who could come out to play at such short notice. The only reason Jinx let this go this far was so that their brothers go to do the whole 'overprotective' thing. They scoff at the thought that benny and Will actually believed they had a say in the new relationship.

Regardless of the outcome, Frankie was going home with them tonight.

"Like all great battles, this is to win the hand of your one true love. We know Benny can't shoot for shit so it's Will we have to keep an eye on. We've got this hermano" Santi whispers in Frankie's ear.

The next hour descends into complete chaos as the boy trashed talk one another and take dirty shots and became the most competitive they have ever been in their life. Eventually a tie breaker between the two teams causes a hush fall  over the room. This next one would the deciding shot, his last chance. Santi solemnly hands Frankie the ball. No Pressure. Inhaling deeply, Frankie sends up a prayer and takes the shot......

A rabble of noise descends over the room. It takes him a while to understand that Pope is screaming in triumph while Benny is screaming in outrage.  Frankie finds himself quickly scooped up into a hug, with Santi chanting " WE WON, WE WON!!!" in his ear. When he is eventually put back down, he turns round to see Jinx doubled over , tears streaming down their face, laughing  at the madness. There is a tight feeling in his chest as he suddenly realises just how much he loves them.  Sensing movement just behind him, Frankie quickly turns to see Will beside him. The eldest Miller stares him straight in the eye before sighing and shaking his head.

"Listen Fish, i'm not gonna lie I am not 100% ok with this situation. In my eyes, no one is ever going to be good enough for Jinx, but I suppose if they HAVE to be with someone then you are the best man for the job."

Frankie lets out a breath he didn't even realise he was holding. He sticks his hand out to Will who takes it and gives it a firm shake.

"You have no idea how much of a weight that is off my shoulders man. What about Benny?"

" He'll come around eventually, he's just really overprotective of Jinx." Will reassures, clapping Fish on the back and heading into the kitchen to get a beer.

Frankie's shoulders slump in relief that this whole debacle is over. No more sneaking around, stealing kisses and quiet moments together. No more having to keep his feelings a secret. He can still hear Benny grumbling away in the background, arguing that the game was rigged and demanding a rematch. Santi being the shit stirrer that he is, cackles and continues to wind him up, calling him a sore loser. Frankie finally glances back to Jinx who is leaning against the wall smirking at him.

" Ready to claim your prize Francisco?"

Frankie's heart soars.