#but this one he bought on his own with sunglasses indoors and a mask and hoodie on

[hychlorions]

Little German Boy Klavier with his whirly hat (official gavinneers merch)

yeah i'll accept that

[jesslockwood]

Photo Opportunities

Word Count: 2.7k

Pairing(s): Tom Holland x Actress!Reader

Warnings: FLUFF with a slightly (barely) suggestive sentence towards the end 

A/n: damn I can't write anything except actress reader? smh but this is for @londonspidey ‘s sit-com Writing challenge (ik I'm early lol) but I was so excited I wrote the whole thing in one go lmao the prompt is bolded!

Calling yourself a fan was an understatement. You were obsessed with anything and everything marvel. And oddly enough, you could after today say you were in the club. It wasn’t a public fact yet, until later that day actually, at the Marvel panel at comic con that you were being announced as the actress for the character, Felica Hardy and no one else knew except for the people who cast you and your best friend who signed an NDA. You were technically still a known actress for your roles on television mainly as Thalia on the PJO Disney + series and a couple of still decently sized films. 

You were currently wrapping up signing autographs for fans of yours for today. Your team had planned it out so it wasn’t suspicious that you were at the con with a few of your castmates scattered doing other junkets and press so people wouldn’t guess who they were acting as the cast for new marvel projects. 

You had been planning to go meet your best friend, who wasn’t in the industry before getting a text that she bought you both a photo-op with someone and she wouldn’t tell you who. You couldn’t only assume it was a marvel actor that you would indeed, freak out. 

Y/b/n: btw I brought you a mask. I get the wig lol.

You: please tell me it doesn’t cover my full face. Also, how are we posing?

Y/b/n: I bought as many photo ops as I could so a lot of different ones, And if I tell you the poses it’ll spoil it.

You: is this with the money I pay you to be my assistant with? Lol fine I’m omw with security

Y/b/n: maybe… 

Y/b/n: and they’ll need more backup security for who we’re getting a photo op with than you do for your hellfire.

You roll your eyes before taking your stuff and exiting the booth, before heading out the backways with staff security and your detailed security for the day. You only had security because you wanted to explore the con when you weren’t needed.

Your best friend had also been your assistant for the con weekend, but you didn’t want her to be confined to you the whole three days so when she could, you would let her explore it, at least she could experience it as a fan, right?

When you made it to that part of the building, you wanted to wait in line with her, which your security didn’t agree to so she texted you when there were about five people ahead of her. She was one of the last in line, with you asking her to be kind, so others would get their chance to be first with whomever it was. 

When she texted you and your detailed exit, getting a few stares and others taking their phones out to either take photos or tweet, you wave at them before joining your best friend in line.

“Here,” she says before handing you none other than a black cat mask before she puts on a red wig. 

You glare at her slightly trying to not make a scene, before putting it on. 

“I’m assuming you're Mary Jane?” you laugh figuring out that it had to be someone from Spider-Man.

“How’d you- never mind.” She laughs with you.

She then explains how she’s going to pose for your five photo ops, joking in between how she should “get a raise for this”.

You catch sight of him before sucking in your breath. This was either going to go down amazingly or terribly, there was no in-between with you. 

“Excuse Me, are you Y/n Y/l/n?”

You turn around and are met by some fans who were standing in line behind you.

“I am! How’s your con going?” you ask politely to the two of them.

“It's going amazing! We love you as Thalia! Could we maybe get a picture? Only if it’s okay?”

“Of course! Thank you for supporting me!” your best friend grabs their phone to take the photo, before you take off the mask, and stand between the two fans, and your best friend snaps a few photos. 

“Thank you so much! And Are you fans of Tom?”

You start slowly walking back to catch up to the line. 

“Yeah, I love him as Spiderman, but I also enjoy his other roles. He's very talented, I'd love to work with him one day!” 

“Have you seen him in Uncharted?  We love Him as Nathan drake!”

“I have, he was amazing per usual! How are you two posing with him?”

They show you their innovative pose. You laugh and tell them it's great before you have to wish them goodbye before heading up for your turn for the photo op. 

“How do we want to pose- hang on, I recognize you!”

You freeze slightly before your friend mouths for you to flirt. You look down at the mask in your hand before getting into character and saying “Of course you do Spidey, I'm always causing you trouble.” you put on the mask and wink. 

He seems slightly stunned, laughing, feeling like he’s seen you somewhere, not only because he found you extremely gorgeous, while in his peripheral vision he sees his brother/ assistant, Harry waving like a madman on the side. 

Your friend directs you both through the poses, first, one both him putting “webs” onto you as she looks over his shoulder, the second one, both of you kissing his cheeks, the third, all jumping in the air in your best superhero poses, the fourth one she gets a photo op alone and the last one she gives to you,

“Seriously, who are you?”

“Your Wildest dreams, baby,” you say, taking off the mask. 

Your best friend yells “freestyle” from the sidelines before Tom dips you, gently, with you shocked, holding the mask out with your free arm and the photo captures that moment. 

 He gently helps you stand back up fully, not before you drop the mask.

“Nice moves Spider-Man.”

“Not so bad yourself, Black Cat.”

You laugh before, taking off with your best friend, well more her dragging you to the printing station leaving the mask behind. Tom picks it up before shoving it in his back pocket to hopefully give back if he could find you. 

-

`You were sitting in the green room, trending on Twitter before you were actually supposed to be trending on Twitter, and god knows where else.  

Someone had snuck a video of you and Tom, up till him dipping you, and a video of you interacting with the fans in the line.

Your Y/b/n was currently reading off some tweets out loud

“‘A kind queen we stan.’  I agree, I also agree with ‘Date her if you can't date me tom!!!’.

‘THALIA AND PETER PARKER??? My two fandoms have collided.’ same, same. Oo this one says, ‘if she ain’t playing black cat I will sue marvel.’ I'm dying at the reply ‘She needs to post the photos or I'll sue her!’. This one’s funny, ‘she could squash him like a bug in heels but he liked his queen like that.’.”

She pauses watching you texting.

“Y/n? Y/n?”

“What? Sorry I was only half listening. I was texting my publicist. She said to stay on the DL until tonight. 

“Well we should get food, you haven't eaten since this morning.”

“By the way, your show has shot to number one on Disney +. Also, you have like three times the followers you had before, probably cause you're trending on every platform, even Tumblr!”

“Wow you should just become my social media manager now.” you joke trying to ease the joy yet weirded out feeling in your stomach.

“Does that come with a raise? Because after today I've spent way too much of what I'm paid.” she jokes back.

-

After finishing his photo ops Tom asked Harry who she was and to find out. By the time he finished autographs for the day, Tom and Harry walked to the panel room in the back for announcements, one that included him for the new Avengers movie, while Harry gave him the rundown.

“So she’s an actress, she plays Thalia on Disney plus’ Percy Jackson series, and that's her most known project. The other girl with her is her assistant best friend, and now she's trending everywhere. People dug up some old photos of her being a marvel/Spider-Man fan, so there's that. And she's here at the con for the rest of the weekend. She's doing photo ops tomorrow at one, and yes she's single from what I gather since you were looking at her like this.” he makes a weird face before tom smacks him.

“And plus you have time in your schedule to get a photo op with her, that is if you eat lunch quickly.”

That gave Tom an idea. 

“Harry I’m going to need you to book me one, oh and help me find a Spider-Man costume!” He says, before leaving harry to do ‘assistant’ work. entering the green room for the announcements, watching them announce a new movie.

“We are so excited to announce to the Marvel Universe, and spider-verse-” that perked tom’s ears, “-directed by Gina Prince-Bythewood, and today we are announcing our amazing Miss Felicia Hardy, please give a warm welcome to the stage, Your Black Cat!”

You suddenly emerged in an aisle way, dressed in all black with a leather jacket, black ankle boots, and of course black sunglasses indoors.

The music is marvel music until it suddenly changes after a recorded laugh from you into “I can’t be tamed by Miley Cyrus”.

You start owning the music while saying hi and touching fans’ hands. You decide to take off your sunglasses and throwing them to a fan, for them to keep, before getting on stage.

“What a Performance from the one the only Y/n Y/l/n!”

You laugh, being met with the loudest applause you had heard all con before being handed a Mic. 

“Thank you but I'm a terrible dancer.” You Joke.

Tom was staring at the screen stunned. You had been the black cat all along. You were in the marvel universe and spidey one,  so he'd definitely be seeing more of you. The hard part is that you seemed so genuine when you talked, interacted with fans and was no doubt, stunning. 

“Better close your mouth or the flies will get in.” Tom turns around to find the voice of none other than his friend slash bully, Sebastian Stan, along with Anthony Mackie.

“Looks like the kid has a crush!” Anthony laughs, pointing to the screen you were on.

“I-I don’t! I don’t even know her!” Tom tries to come to his own defense, hopelessly.

“She’s got you whipped already don’t even deny it.” Harry comes in, joining the teasing of one, Tom Holland.

“Maybe we can invite her out for drinks tonight, then fanboy over here can meet her, and then probably scare her off!” Anthony mentions.

“You haven’t looked on the internet? They’ve already met.” Seb says, before showing Anthony twitter. 

Anthony stands there slightly shocked before bursting into laughter.

“Well, she’s damn well a keeper for Tom since she obviously likes him.”

A staff member peaks their head in the green room to tell Tom he’s up next.

“Well, that’s my cue to leave you two!”

On the other hand, you were on an adrenaline high from being on stage, and seeing all the fans. You knew tomorrow was going to be crazy, as you expected people to book your photo op left and right since the announcement. 

You had decided to decline an offer from your fellow marvel universe castmates, Sebastian Stan and Anthony Mackie, which they so graciously told you that whenever you’re free, the offer still stood. 

You had gotten to your hotel room seeing your phone blowing up on the social media apps for the second time that day. 

You responded to the important stuff, before heading to bed, knowing it was going to be hectic.

-

You had been right, it was absolutely insane, the number of people who showed up. You had fully booked all your time slots for photo ops. You had seen so many people dressed up in marvel cosplay, ranging from Loki to Ironman, even some people dressed up as your character, which was wildly insane to see.

You had been nearing the end of the line and had enjoyed every moment with the fans, and you couldn’t wait for your autographing session later that day, to truly get a chance to talk to the fans and connect with them and how they felt about you being their beloved Black Cat. 

After a few more photos, posing how they wanted, you see a fully dressed, head to toe, mask and all, Spider-Man. You had seen some spider-mans but most took off their masks to snap a picture. The person was the last in line. 

“Hey Black Cat.” The southern American accented voice tells you, seeming very familiar. 

“Hey, Spider, what poses do you have up your sleeve?” you ask kindly.

“I bought a few, Cat.” they laugh.

“Okay, You can do whatever a spider can right?” you pull out a line out of the comics jokingly.

“I can do flips if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Is that some kind of nerd pick-up line? Because it’s only kind of working.” you laugh. 

“I really can, but this is one.”

He gets down on one knee, holding a black cat mask instead of a ring. The photographer captures the shocked expression on your face.

“I- Don’t- What- Spider I-” 

“Ow My feelings…” Suddenly their voice changes into a British accent before they pull off the mask to reveal-

“Tom?”

“I guess you don’t have a spidey sense darling?” The photographer captures the moment without warning eating the moment up. 

You laugh at that. 

“I guess you found out my true identity Spider. And it’s nice to officially meet you, Tom.”

He laughs, just as nervous as you, he notices he has gotten closer to you and a strand of hair loosely is blowing in your face, so naturally, he pushes it behind your ear. Another snap of the camera can be heard. 

“NOW KISS!” a voice belonging to your best friend yells from the side, mid-eating a churro.

You both laugh really hard at that.

The both of you calm down, slowly leaning lost in the moment. The camera snaps again. You both look at the photographer weirded out, and they just shrug.

“Wait can you actually do a flip?” you ask, pulling away, not wanting prying eyes aka the photographer, to pry in your business. 

“I can, though I’d show you later, maybe in the greenroom?”

“That sounds naughty, but, sure.” you joke around. 

He laughs before, you both take off from the area going to grab the photos.

-

After spending most of the day together when you could, you get Tom’s number, before heading back to your hotel room. He texts you as soon as you get back. 

Spider: I had fun today, minus finding our assistants making out.

You: we should ‘snog’ too, it’ll gross them out ;)

You: I had fun too btw. Are you leaving tomorrow?

Spider: lol we should. And yeah an early flight, 6 am to be exact. Hbu?

You: Yeah me too... another day another dollar lol

Spider: ill miss you, Cat.

You: stop talking like we’ll never see each other again lol. As a matter of fact, come to my room, we’re watching a movie!

Spider: alright, I’ll order snacks. 

  You sigh smiling at your phone. You haven’t felt this giddy in a long time.

Your phone pings with a few Instagram notifications.

Tomholland2013 has started following you.

Tomholland2013 has tagged you in a photo.

You open Instagram to find the photo of him “proposing” to you posted.

“Ow, my leg, my- feelings...Welcome to the Universe, Cat.” the photo is captioned. You decide to post, the photo of him dipping you.

“So what do you say, Spider? Wanna help me pull off the Heist of the Heist of the Century?” you caption it, Before getting comfortable to watch a movie. 

What an opportunity ;)

Tags:

@lolooo22 @webmeupspiderdaddy @harryhollandsgirlfriend @spideyspeaches @greenorangevioletgrass @queenofthepouges @sheranatic111 @keithseabrook27

[planetjisungie]

stalkers at the pool- p.js

characters: jisung x lifeguard/pool employee reader ft. annoying dreamies

genre; literal just crack, fluff if you use a magnifying glass

summary; jisung recently started going swimming a lot more often, leaving the boys to question why he went so much

"is he going swimming...again?" jaemin gaped from his lounged position on the sofa, arm extended with tv controller in hand, but his attention is on the door that their youngest just left through.

"seems like it" chenle shrugged, launching onto the sofa next to the blue haired boy. suddenly everyone seemed very intrigued in jisungs daily trips to the local indoor pool, which he didnt go to very often until about 4 months ago. the boy even bought a gold membership there to make his bank cry less.

"so we’re just not going to question it?" renjun piped up, also interested to see what was going on. "hes probably just found a love for swimming" chenle shrugged again, snatching the controller from jaemin.

"or maybe hes found a love for something else. a girl?!" haechan gasped from where he was laying on the ground before sitting up. jeno shook his head.

"no way is jisung remotely confident enough to show his shins to a girl" he joked, making an X with his fingers. the others snorted at his statement before jaemin got up.

"jaem, where are you going?" renjun asked, watching the boy walk into their weird spare miscellaneous items room with a weird look. jaemin poked his head out from the room and smirked. "im going undercover"

and thats how they ended up, walking as inconspicuously as possible to the swimming pool. they had thought there was no possible way they could get caught. haechan was wearing a yellow wig and a dress, with sunglasses on and heels which he somehow could walk in suspiciously easily. jaemin had on a bucket hat and face mask, with the gag glasses that have the nose attached to them on, and a large trench coat. renjun looked like a drug dealer, in a giant black hoodie and beanie underneath, black jeans and trainers with some weird rectangle sunglasses he had found. chenle... he was in a bright neon green wig, with a fancy dressing gown on and slippers, his giant aviator sunglasses also somewhat masking his identity. out of all of them, jeno was probably the most normal. he just had a bucket hat on and stayed in his normal clothes, plus the cat collar he had around his neck as he insisted ‘real jeno would never wear a collar’.

quite honestly, the group probably had made themselves more visible. pushing open the heavy glass doors to the swimming pool, they were all hit with a waft of strong chlorine, the sound of rushing water and the screams of children playing. "dude we are so invisible right now" jaemin said, as they all filed to sit in the café which gave you a good view of the whole place. "i know right? this is great" chenle snapped his fingers before scanning the area for his lanky friend. "target located" haechan pointed at the brown haired boy who was sipping on a red slushie, staring longingly down at the pool. he was in his swimming trunks and a white tshirt, which obviously wasnt wet yet.

"dont tell me we came all the way here in disguise just for him to drink a slushie" renjun groaned, but jaemin hushed him.

"no, look, its a girl" jeno said, gasping slightly. sure enough, following jisungs line of sight was you. sat on the high lifeguards chair, a red swimming costume and an orange slightly oversized polo over it, the whistle dangling around your neck whilst you kicked your legs, watching over the pool.

"ohoho jisung youve been caught red handed" chenle quietly cackled.

-

not even 15 minutes later, you came off duty for your friend to carry on for you. heading up the steps, you saw the familiar tuft of brown and blonde hair, making you smile. jisung came to this pool every day, and you had started talking about 2 months ago. you had to admit, before that you would just admire him from afar as he was just THAT gorgeous. opening the gate, you slipped on your trainers before heading off to the table that jisung was sat down at.

"hey y/n" he smiled brightly, your cheeks dusting over with a slight pink while you sent him your own smile back. you carried on conversing with jisung as usual, him sliding a blue slushie over to you which you were extremely grateful for.

feeling eyes on you, you looked around, trying to see if someone was looking at you because it was slightly discomforting. narrowing your eyes, you let out a little chortle at the sight of 5 men dressed in the weirdest clothes and wigs, watching you and jisung. you probably wouldve been scared had one of them not worn heels, and the other not worn the cliche nose glasses.

"are you okay?" jisung asked, looking slightly concerned at your odd behaviour. trying to not be so obvious you turned back to jisung, subtly pointing at the 5 men. "jisung there are people watching us in weird costumes and honestly its the best thing ever" you snickered, sipping your slush as you genuinely found this whole scenario hilarious. after all, who sips slushies with their crush whilst being stared at by people in neon wigs on a daily basis?

jisung turned his head to see what you were pointing at, and his jaw dropped in disbelief. he sent a glare and middle finger to the boys before looking back at you with a slighly flushed face. "theyre my hyungs" he said, causing you to actually lose it and just start laughing.

"but why, why are they- oh my god- why did they come in disguise" you choked out, trying to get coherent words from your state of undying laughter. jisung also started laughing along and shrugged.

"theyre weird like that"

[itwillbeall-dwight]

downtime at dead dawg

zarina kassir/caleb quinn | the deathslinger; just some feel-good friend shit w/ maybe flirting; alc tw; 1825 words

a/n: i’ve had this one sitting in the drafts for about a week, after i impulse bought zarina and having been playing her nonstop. they... are cute. i’ve also been doing really bad mentally so this fic was honestly mostly for me because i just want some... happy, feel-good content where people are friends for once. also, fun game to play; try and guess all the characters i vaguely mentioned. i wanna see how obvious i was.

i might add another few chapters to this?? i have ideas at the very least. i’d love it if u guys let me know if you wanna see that. hope you’re all doing well, and stay safe y’all.

likes < reblogs, any comments in the tags are appreciated

ao3 mirror in the reblogs!

Preview: “You want a drink, cowboy?” The voice beside him almost startled him, making him jump to look down at the woman in the brown woollen scarf, holding two glasses of whiskey. She held one out to him, and he took it with a quiet thank you, more than expecting to resume people-watching alone and in silence, watching on as killer and survivor alike had raided his realm for a good time - a break from the killing and the madness, if only for a moment or two. But she didn’t. Instead, she moved around him and took his side, resting her elbows on the balcony and joining him. She took a small sip from her glass. “You know, it’s crazy. Soon you’re just going to go back to slaughtering us for fun.” “You assume it’s fun.” He gruffly replied, glancing down at her to meet her eyes. “Are you implying it’s not?” Caleb paused for a moment, almost thinking it over, before he chuckled. “...Yeah, no, it’s real fun.” “Yeah, I thought so.”

It was louder in here than it had been in a long time. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not.

 The piano wasn’t being played by ghosts this time. Among the white noise of idle chatter from the saloon floor down below him was the tickling of ivories at a fast pace, courtesy of that Macmillan guy, mask pulled up now as he ran his hand up and down the stained keys with precision, though a bit rusty at times - a well-trained pianist, in whatever past he had. That athletic survivor with the ginger braids stuck close by, clapping along to the rhythm with a smile on her face. There was another survivor on the other side of the killer, the bear on the back of her jersey clearly in view from the balcony as she tried to touch the bottom keys of the piano without getting her wrists slapped. They seemed happy enough. 

 Others were scattered among the odd tables that littered the saloon floor, creating the blanket of white noise that overlaid the music. From one, he saw the snapping movements of the spectral ghostly girl as she sat beside two survivors, a kind man in a trenchcoat and the hardy looking girl with goggles, the two of them talking and occasionally giving the spectre a chance to input - she was laughing, a wide smile distorting her face, occasionally giving the man a soft and thankful glance when she was sure he was paying her no mind. From another, many people surrounded the tough-looking survivor with the undercut and the strong killer with the rabbit mask as they partook in a battle of brute strength - an arm-wrestling match, with support from both sides of the playing field, cheering them on and clapping in glee. At the bar sat a quiet group of four - older men, supposedly wiser, he would have thought, if not for the idiot wearing sunglasses indoors and the man with the metal hand, both clearly drinking more than they could handle. Even from the balcony, the apologetic glances exchanged between the older soldier and the detective were plain as day to see, their companions too delirious from alcohol to pay that much mind.

 “You want a drink, cowboy?”

The voice beside him almost startled him, making him jump to look down at the woman in the brown woollen scarf, holding two glasses of whiskey. She held one out to him, and he took it with a quiet thank you, more than expecting to resume people-watching alone and in silence, watching on as killer and survivor alike had raided his realm for a good time - a break from the killing and the madness, if only for a moment or two.

But she didn’t. Instead, she moved around him and took his side, resting her elbows on the balcony and joining him. She took a small sip from her glass. “You know, it’s crazy. Soon you’re just going to go back to slaughtering us for fun.”

“You assume it’s fun.” He gruffly replied, glancing down at her to meet her eyes.

“Are you implying it’s not?”

Caleb paused for a moment, almost thinking it over, before he chuckled. “...Yeah, no, it’s real fun.”“Yeah, I thought so.”

“Yeah, I thought so.” She returned the laugh in kind, though hers was a lot gentler than his - less rough, less biting. The killer turned his head to look down on her, at the expression on her face as she looked down to her friends and enemies below, a smile on her face. He followed her gaze down to the arm wrestling match, where the undercut survivor was shaking his hand and cursing to himself, his opponent stretching her strong arms above her head and placing a hand on her shoulder, where the infected priestess had placed her own hand in congratulations, whispering blessings in foreign tongues that Caleb didn’t care to understand. 

 The two remained silent and just watched the occurrences on the floor below. The idiot in sunglasses had climbed into the bar counter now, in the process of removing the tan suit jacket he wore with the encouragement of his fellow drunkard before being dragged off of the bar and outside by his sober, bearded compatriot. From underneath the balcony, the quiet boy almost always armed with a toolbox walked out, carrying a large pot of bubbling liquid and placing it on one of the empty tables, the leather-masked fellow and the hunched over swamp witch following behind him excitedly, ready to show off their cooking skills to the rest of the gathering.

 The company at the piano had grown now, Macmillan having moved to let someone else take a seat - one of the survivors, the bigger woman in the pinstripe suit, whose piano playing was delicate, light and slow, accompanied now by the sound of a guitar, as the tattooed blonde survivor sat on its lid and played along and gently plucked the instrument's strings, the third member of their little musical entourage being the sound of a haunting, tolling bell from the tree-like man in the torn cloak, his addition giving the piece a melancholy vibe. Sat on the other side of the piano lid was the floating nurse, and though no expression was visible on her face due to the bag covering her face, the way she relaxed told him she was enthralled with the performance. 

 Caleb looked back down at the woman still by his side, her expression still soft as she looked among the crowd. As if knowing she was being watched, she looked up again, not fearing to stare directly into his eyes as she did. 

“You know… we don’t even know your names. You don’t know ours. Isn’t that crazy?”

He paused, raising an eyebrow. “Why would it? Attachment ‘n that. Makes shit harder.”

“Like you would have sympathy.”

“Some of us have a heart, ma’am.”

She paused. “...Deep down, somewhere. I suppose you’re right. Though, it’s not entirely true. I know who you are. By chance. Maybe that’s why…”

He watched as her hand fell to the flashing device on her belt, a subtle red light blinking on and off. “...Huh. Nosey, aint’cha?”

“It gets me ahead in my line of work, Mr. Quinn.” She looked up as he flinched with a smirk, clearly not bluffing now, before her eyes fell back onto the crowd.

 Following her gaze again, which was once again placed on the arm-wrestling pair, Caleb heard her chuckle, moving her arms again to hang over the balcony in a delicate criss-cross. “Oh, David’s at it again.”

David. Must be the idiot with too little hair. Caleb looked down at him as he pressed his elbow against the table, and flexed his fingers with a pained grin, ready for another round. “...Hardy one, ain’t he?”

“I’d call it stupid. Only Nea would encourage his behaviour, and there she is.”

Sure enough, by the man’s side was the girl in the beanie, almost shouting in his ear as both beratement and encouragement - he swore he could almost see the sweat on David’s brow as she continued on. He hummed, his loose jaw cracking slightly before he snapped it back into place.

“And isn’t Jane’s music lovely?” She continued, a free and open hand signalling back to the piano. “I never expected her to be a pianist, and yet, the way she makes music with Kate is stunning.”

“...Sounds nice.” 

“Kate normally plays for us all, for a morale boost, it’s lovely. ...Ah, and look at that. The Spirit is a little less terrifying-looking like that. I never considered Adam to be the comedian type, he’s much too serious for that, and yet...” A pointed finger lead to the table of three again, where the spectral girl still giggled, her nose shrivelling up and as she tapped out her hand in defeat, the girl in goggles laughing along with her nose pinched between her fingers, a free hand nursing a glass.

 Caleb hummed again in acknowledgement, looking down at the scarved woman again, and her soft features, before nudging her softly with an elbow. “You’re not slick, ya know, missy. Tryna teach me somethin’ new an’ all. Think that’s gonna save ya?”

“Ha, guess not. Just thought I’d give it a shot.” She shrugged, twirling some hair between her fingers as, again, she stared him in the face, with no fear, and even a soft smile on her face. “And my name is Zarina. In case you wanted to know.”

He looked away, back down below - there was a commotion with the dinner plans, it seemed. He didn’t care to get involved. “Well, I didn’t.”

“Well, too bad.” Zarina almost mocked him with her tone, before she took a drink, finishing off the last of her glass as she tipped her head back, and wiping her mouth with the back of her arm in some mock-macho movement.

 There was a beat of silence. “...S’a pretty name, regardless.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.” Dark eyes looked down at her again, and with another gentle snap of his jaw, Caleb gave her a lopsided grin, to which she gave him a half-hearted shove.

“Now who’s trying to get some sympathy points, huh?”

“Hey, just tellin’ the lady what she already knows.”

The odd pair shared a laugh, before the cowboy too finished off his drink in a movement similar to hers before, then holding out his free hand to take her empty glass. “One more, for the road?”

Zarina looked down at his hand, palm dried and scarred from years of working with his gun, before she placed the bottom of her glass into it. “If you enjoy my company, you can just say so, cowboy.”

“Ha. Keep dreamin’, Princess.” Heavy boots creaked against the wood of the balcony, as he descended down the stairs to the bar. 

 The night carried on, many survivors and killer alike finding it hard to stand after indulging in the rare pleasure that was alcohol in this realm. The darkness grew darker before everyone returned to their own dwellings until the trial resumed. 

Boots on the counter of the bar, Caleb poured himself one final drink, listening to the last of the footsteps behind him. “‘Night, Zarina.”

She looked behind her, finding his eyes on her as she hauled the arm of a barely conscious Dwight over her shoulder, hoping to help their leader back to the campfire in one piece. A small smile fell on her features. “...Goodnight, Caleb.”

He suppressed the small inhale and choke of his drink as she said his name again, for the second time that night, listening to the sound of her footsteps and mumbles back and forth with the messy spectacled boy grew quieter and quieter, leaving him alone again, with the creaking of floorboards and the ghosts on the piano, until the next time he was called to service here again, gun in hand. 

[kingsofchaos]

In the ridiculous version of Los Santos where the FAHC are somehow simultaneously so utterly infamous that they are pretty much household names and inexplicably still able to get about their day-to-day business without being recognised and arrested on sight, i like to think about the other resident's of their building. The ones who don't live in the swanky penthouse apartment, who have no idea that for all intents and purposes they are neighbours with the most notorious criminals around.

Because there must be neighbours, right? I mean, even if Geoff was throwing money about and bought the whole damn building, so long as they're trying to fly under the radar and avoid police detection they've got to fill all that space with something. The lower levels would be rented out as offices, no drama, and he'd probably keep the top few levels below the penthouse as a combination of expansion space and insulation preventing any noise drifting into the wrong ears, but somewhere in-between there are apartments. Apartments filled with civilians.

And, sure, they wouldn't have all that much to do with those civilians at all - building managers take care of all the necessary interactions and the penthouse has its own private elevators and garage, gym and pool, but they'd have to cross paths sometimes. There's still foyers, still coming and going from the same door at ground level, still some idiot burning his dinner and setting off all the fire alarms, automatically locking down the elevators and forcing a very disgruntled Fake AH Crew into the firestairs with everyone else if they want to get anywhere that day.

Without fail, the residents of every apartment building i have ever lived in can put aside any individual differences for the common goal of mercilessly mocking the the penthouse owners behind their back. It’s pretty much a bylaw, no matter your drama with anyone else, regardless of loud children, barking dogs or relentless smokers, never mind the never ending feud between renters and owners, the one constant truth everyone can accept is that if there’s a fancy penthouse the residents of that level must be obnoxious assholes, no matter how normal they may present. And the Fake's? Yeah nobody is going to be calling them normal.

The rumours start slow - you'd be lucky to see one of the penthouse inhabitants in a month after all, but once talk starts it only grows and grows, odd incident after odd incident coming together with more than a sprinkle of exaggeration to make for the best kind of gossip. It’s inevitable really, lord knows the FAHC’s living arrangement is deeply bizarre from an outsiders perspective – too many grown adults to be living together, too many people coming and going at odd hours to be even an unconventional office space, and then there’s the strange attitudes and oddities of the actual individuals in question.

Because once the gossiping gets going you better believe every little interaction with the weirdos from the penthouse makes the rounds between residents like wildfire, everything from clothing choices to stilted small talk picked apart and talked to death. And who can really blame them, considering the characters they might run into.

Just think about coming across Ryan in a shared space. At best, people say he’s the big, silent type, clearly thinks he’s above everyone else since he barely says two words to them, and only ever in response to direct questions. At worst he’d the rich asshole who likes to wander around in a replica of a mask worn by the city’s most notorious criminal, an active murderer with countless deaths to his name. What a sicko.

Or Jeremy. Just, Jeremy. Those clothes. Those colours. Once is a bad day, a costume party, the last of his clean clothing, but eventually it must dawn that this man really just thinks he can pull off neon orange and purple as a fashion choice. As a hair colour. The horrified whispers only spread when someone catches sight of his vehicles, one after another, all painted in the same blistering shades of regret.

There’s Geoff, who is almost exactly what one would expect from a penthouse owner; filthy rich and deeply disinterested in small talk with the locals. Except, well, it’s a terrible assumption but most can't shake the idea that a man with that many tattoos just shouldn't be in a suit that nice. That a man with that many tattoos probably didn’t make his money investing or running some franchise. That a man whose friends laugh unrepentantly when his voice snarls in anger but go still and serious when it drops into something cold and quiet isn’t the kind of man you want to run into alone on a dark night.

Gavin, the only one who stinks of wealth to the same degree as Geoff, every inch the trust fund baby stereotype with his clothes, his indoor sunglasses and raised eyebrows, the polished kind of smirk that is anything but kind. Of all the people from the penthouse Gavin is the most likely to know names and details about the other residents – more information than anyone actually recalls sharing with him in fact – yet is one of the least likely to engage in any kind of normal conversation if caught, calculating disinterest only really giving way in the face of the few relentless old biddies living in the building.

To the surprise of nobody the residents very quickly learn not to press for conversations with Michael. Michael with his leather jackets, his split lips and bruised knuckles, his unflinching willingness to tell absolutely anybody to mind their own fucking business, viciously scathing whenever he catches anyone paying too much attention to anything the penthouse group are getting up to. It doesn’t stop them from talking when he’s not around, if anything only encourages hearty debate about what role such a man must play to be involved in such rich company, but the moment Michael makes an appearance the tenants tend to scatter like mice.

There’s less to specifically say about the rest of the crew, spotted less frequently or without any defining quirk for the locals to leap on. There’s Lindsay, who’s largely sweet as pie, maybe smiles a little too sharply sometimes, but honestly what young woman doesn’t. She’s an artist, maybe, what with the little flecks and splats of red staining her nice clothes. Then there’s the twins. Or not twins. At first considered to be one man until multiple accounts swore up and down they had seen a pair of them together. Clones, that one stoner living on floor 32 likes to swear, the friendly one and the unsettling one, nobody knowing quite who they’re talking to until it’s too late to turn back.

And then there’s Jack. Jack who’s pretty unremarkable as far as gossip goes; casually dressed, willing to exchange meaningless pleasantries, so normal it took the longest time for anyone to realise she came from the penthouse group at all. Took right up until they tried to involve her in the gossip in fact – some poor unfortunate soul really took one for the team that day, got the word out that friendly as she seemed Jack could make an elevator ride feel like a one way trip to hell if she felt like it. And if Tom suddenly moved out of the building a few weeks later, well. He always played his music too loud anyway.

[demialwrites]

First Date

When Captain Amari said going out would be good for Genji, he felt the pressure. Then she narrowed her gaze and said, "Don't make me make that an order," and he grimaced.

He had to cover the Blackwatch logo on his chest, but the rest of his clothes, sweats, were a set of protective armour against others' eyes when he had to be out in public. He put a surgical mask on top of his mouth guard and pulled his hood up. He looked like he would be happier in a dim basement with a gaming controller in his hand than go with you, but you beamed with the happiest grin when Genji showed up at the time you set. His sour expression, half hidden, did not change.

You waved at him to follow you. He was on loan from Blackwatch, and you had a few hours off in Numbani while the higher-ups went to a boring meeting. You had sympathy for them, and it motivated you to make the most of your own time and go explore the city. Genji lagged behind as you strolled the unnaturally shiny streets, but he didn't stray far. If he was gonna be a sourpuss, you were gonna wave excitedly and make finger guns while fighting off a grin. His lower eyelids twitched as part of either a smile or a glare. You chose to assume smile and continued on. You spotted a clothing store, and while you knew Genji might not appreciate going in, you wanted a quick look. You went in through the open door. The sales associated greeted you, and you said you were just browsing. Genji entered behind you (you half expected him to stubbornly sulk outside). She gave him a nervous smile. You wandered around, looking over the clothes and the accessories. You came to the shoes. Among them were some fuzzy, black slippers. You picked them up and waved them at Genji. "Perfect," you pronounced. You bought them. Genji didn't stop you. He begrudgingly put them on and shuffled behind you out of the store, with his white toes sticking adorably out of the front. He walked a little closer behind. You knew he was a sweetheart under his usual glower. You checked out some more stores. A gift store with rows of shelves with little cacti and indoor plants. Genji went around touching the more interesting ones with his human fingers, then his cybernetic ones, to compare. The spoilsport stopped when he noticed you watching him. You led him to a pet store with little animals after that. The birds were terrified of him, but he could play with the kittens as much as he wanted. He must not have felt much pain from their little claws and bites. He poked a cybernetic finger in through the cage bars for them to attack and chase. You swear you heard a chuckle from him. He stuck even closer to your six after that particular store. The shininess of the city and the afternoon sun was getting to you. Time for a blended coffee. Genji was walking just half a foot behind you by now, so you grabbed his arm to pull him in step with you. His slippers slapped the ground as he sped up. He was wearing sunglasses that he didn't have before. You didn't see him buy anything, but you shrugged inwardly. It wasn't worth it to pry about whether he stole them. He let you steer him into a cafe. You bought him his drink to make up for dragging him around like this. You turned around from getting the drinks to hand Genji his drink. You looked at him, sunglasses placed on top of his head, and remembered the mouth guard. How rude of you! How was he supposed to drink it? You opened your mouth to apologize and find out how to fix this, but he took the drink from your hand. Genji pulled his surgical mask down. He pressed something in the underside of his jaw with his thumb. It clicked, and his mouth guard split down the middle, allowing him to use his mouth. You had never seen that happen. You also never fully realized what a dangerous cutie he was, with his little nose and his high cheekbones. Your mouth spread slowly into a grin. Genji smirked back, smug that he got a reaction from you. A tiny victory in an otherwise miserable life. Two could play that game. The both of you strolled the streets again back to Captain Amari, side by side with your cold drinks. You let Genji think he had done a good job humouring you and was safe. Then you stopped and spoke his name. He stopped with you and turned to face you, waiting for you to say something. You snuck in for a quick kiss to his lips and then walked away. You thought you'd won, but he grabbed your hand to make you stop and turn back. His red eyes burned into yours, and he moved in to claim another kiss. This time lingering longer than you had dared. He pulled away and kept walking. You blushed and fell into step beside him. He subtlely adjusted his hood to cover his own pink cheeks. You both went back having decided you scored.

[etoilesjaunes]

Ungrateful Heart

no one’s taught you how to love and i wouldn’t know where to start After Hawk Moth has been revealed and turned over to the authorities, Marinette gets a concerning call from Master Fu.

read on Ao3

Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 2005

After Hawk Moth’s capture and subsequent reveal, after the sirens and the press and the rush of activity, the silence felt heavy.

Ladybug and Chat Noir had escaped, needing some space to come to terms with what they had learned that day. On a rooftop, they leaned against each other, silent tears flowing down their cheeks. Relief, because finally, it all meant something.

All of the lies, all of the events they’d missed, all of the times they’d had to grow up far too fast — it was for this. To keep Paris safe.

Those weren’t the only tears, though. Gabriel Agreste’s only child, Adrien Agreste, was now left without a parent to take care of him. Ladybug cried for him. Chat… Well, Chat couldn’t take the betrayal. The abandonment. Knowing what was to come. He cried for all of that.

As the tears slowly ran out, Ladybug felt a sense of anticipation. The threat was gone. They could finally find out who the person under the mask was. She took a deep breath and stepped back.

“Chat…”

He looked away. “I know what you’re about to say. I… I need some time.”

“Take as long as you need, Chat.” Heaven knew she’d kept this from him for long enough.

He nodded and turned around. “I’ll see you, my Lady.”

Then, he extended his baton and vaulted off.

 “Welcome, Chat Noir.” Master Fu spoke calmly, expression not changing as he looked down at the box that Adrien held by his side. “Ah. Does Ladybug know?”

The boy’s silence was answer enough for the man.

 Marinette had been staring at her ceiling for the past forty-five minutes. Alya had sent her an invitation to one of the hundreds of parties being held throughout Paris celebrating the defeat of the supervillain, but she’d ignored it.

She’d stopped at the Agreste Manor after Chat had taken off, but wasn’t allowed through the gate. They weren’t taking visitors, apparently.

Her phone started buzzing again and she looked over at it. She bolted upright when she saw who it was, not able to answer it fast enough.

“Master Fu! Is everything okay?”

“If I were you, I would be at the Saint-Lazare station as soon as possible.”

Chat.

“Tikki, spots on!”

She left her phone on the bed. It was Master Fu who had to hang up.

Adrien didn’t think he’d ever seen the train station so deserted. He’d seen it in the early hours and in the late hours, on all sorts of weekends and holidays, and there were always people trying to get somewhere. But now, people were with their families, celebrating the fact that they were safe and together and they didn’t have to fear for their lives every time they stepped outside.

Must be nice.

As Adrien sat on the bench, he was surprised he was holding it together so well. Maybe it was the fact that he’d said his own goodbyes to Ladybug already. Not that she’d heard any of them.

He felt bad, of course, that he didn’t get to do the same for Nino, or Alya, or Chloé… Or Marinette. His relationship with each was different, of course, but those were his closest friends after Ladybug.

He just couldn’t face them. Not when they would see him and know just exactly whose son he was. He didn’t know exactly how they’d react — whether it would be pity or fear or no emotion at all, just shunning him — but he didn’t want to see any of it.

When he got home, he’d locked his bedroom door and packed a bag. He’d been slowly withdrawing cash for when he turned eighteen (two months away), but now was better than ever to put it to some use. He didn’t have a plan, not really, but he knew it would need money.

He didn’t know where he was going, he just transformed and jumped out of the window.

Plagg knew he was running away. He’d been there while Adrien was packing. Adrien had packed some cheese, of course, while Plagg reassured him that he’d be fine with whatever kind Adrien would be able to get in the future.

He’d been supportive.

That might have been the thing that hurt the most when he de-transformed and pulled off the ring.

He’d felt Master Fu’s judgement, but the man didn’t voice it, for which Adrien was greatful.

His train ticket had been the next one available, which was about forty minutes from the time he’d bought it, and it had been twenty five minutes since. He knew he looked strange, with a hoodie and jeans at just the beginning of October, and with sunglasses in the evening and indoors, but it was less conspicuous than the face that was surely running across every television screen in the country.

He looked up at the huge clock down the wall from him and sighed. Ten minutes to go, and then he could start moving on. Ten minutes until he could start over.

He kept going over his options. He was heading North, maybe he could go to London? Fly to America? Surely, Americans wouldn’t be paying too much attention to what was going on in Paris. They wouldn’t recognize him as the son of a terrorist.

He looked up at the clock again. Still ten minutes. Damn it. He was about to resume staring at the wall opposite him when someone in his peripheral vision caught his eye. Someone was standing there, staring at him. He froze, knowing he’d been recognized. Maybe he could ignore them and they’d think it was a mistake.

Something told him they wouldn’t, so he did the next best thing. He arranged his face into the most threatening expression he could manage, turned his head, and took off his sunglasses so he could stare at them directly.

Of course, that all fell apart when he saw who was standing there.

Marinette.

Damn it.

Of all the people who had to find him, it had to be her.

Nino might understand.

Alya might understand.

Chloé would definitely understand.

Marinette… Well, she would understand, for sure, but she also had the best chance at convincing him to stay. She didn’t give up on anyone.

He let his face relax again and directed his gaze to the floor.

Please leave. Please leave. Please leave.

“Adrien?”

“That’s me.”

She was getting closer. He willed himself to become one with the bench. Maybe if he didn’t move, she’d stop.

“Can I sit with you?”

He sighed in defeat. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stop you, will I?”

She didn’t respond to that, just walked around to the other side of him to take the empty space. He had his bag between his feet, so he didn’t even have that as a buffer.

“You don’t have to leave just because of him, you know.”

“I’ll never be able to leave him behind if I stay,” he replied. “All that people will think when they see me is ‘Oh, there goes Hawk Moth’s son.’ Mothers will cross the street to keep their children away from me. No one will hire me, ever. No one wants me.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

“Nino, Chloé, Alya…”

“They’ll live.”

“I want you here.”

He took a deep breath.

“You’ll live, too.”

“Not even one person?”

Ladybug.

“Not even one.”

Adrien counted five seconds of silence, during which he glanced up and saw he had six minutes left.

“You know, chaton, you’ve never been that good at lying to me.”

 Was he breathing? He couldn’t tell.

He was dimly aware of his arms curling around his waist, his torso bending forward over his legs, a warmth on his back. Apparently, he hadn’t been out of tears. He needed to breathe to cry, right? So he was breathing.

“It’s alright, Chat, it’s okay. I’m here.” The whispered words were repeated over again. They were probably supposed to be soothing.

“You weren’t supposed to know.”

“It’s okay, Adrien.”

“No!” He turned his head back to her for a second before sitting halfway up and cradling his head in his hands. She didn’t take her hand off his back. “I just… I wanted one person to remember me as… As me, just me.”

“Please, Adrien, just… Come back with me. We can talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I need to get away from Paris. I need to start over somewhere where no one knows who I am. Maybe you want me to stay, but no one else does. Not really. They don’t need a daily reminder of what my father did to the city. And you…”

In a moment of weakness, he looked at her again. Her big bluebell eyes were sadder than he’d ever seen them. It was almost enough to get him to stop what he was saying.

“You know all of me now. I’m not who you thought I was, am I? Either side of me. You know it’s true.”

“Adrien, knowing you’re my partner is better than I ever could have imagined. Please, don’t close yourself off from me.”

“And then what?” he asked. “One day, you’ll decide that I’m not worth the trouble. My one friend in the city will abandon me, and then it’ll be that much harder to leave and start over.”

“Friend?”

Adrien paused. “Do… Do you not even think that much of me?”

“Chat, I… I love you.”

He had trouble swallowing. “You don’t have to pretend.”

“I’m not pretending. Why would I lie to you about this?”

“I don’t know. You like taking care of people. Maybe you actually even believe it right now, for whatever reason. But that’s all the more reason to leave now.”

“What could you possibly be talking about?” She sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

“Because I’m in love with you, too, and there’s two ways this could end if I go back with you. One, you decide I’m too hard to continue to love and you leave me. We’re both heartbroken and I leave anyway. Two… Marinette, you want to go into fashion. If, somehow, we do end up together… Your association with me will follow you around for the rest of your life. You have some amazing talent, Marinette, and you don’t need me bringing you down.”

“I don’t care about that, Adrien. I just care about you.”

“I won’t ask you to give up your dreams for me. You’ll find someone else.”

In the distance, he heard the rising noise of a train. They both turned their heads in that direction for a second before looking back at each other. Marinette’s eyes were swimming with tears and desperation.

“At least tell me how I can find you again.”

Adrien stood and picked up his bag.

“Trust me, my Lady. I’m doing you a favor. You'll thank me, someday.” His feet were feeling heavier and heavier. “Please, forget about me.”

“Never.” She stood next to him. “I’ll go with you. I’ll—”

“Marinette, trust me when I say this is the last thing I thought I’d say to you.” The train finally appeared, the brakes already squealing to a stop. “Leave me alone. Go home.”

Her jaw dropped open and she visibly leaned away from him. Then, her expression grew angry. “Then believe me when I say this is the last thing I thought I’d say to you. You’re a coward. You don’t want to come back with me because you’re too afraid that I actually do love you. I thought you were supposed to trust me. I’d never leave you.”

She’d started crying, and seeing that made him realize he’d started again, too.

The train finally stopped and the doors opened with a hiss.

“I hope you have a good life, my Lady.”

“Chat…”

He reached across the space between them and took her hand in his. Slowly, reverently, he brought it to his lips.

“Good-bye.”

He dropped her hand, turned away, and boarded the train.