#occasionally I’m seen doing art for fics

[lokilenchen]

I read @fireinmywoods new fic a battuta and I just couldn’t resist drawing them in the way I imagined them while reading 💛💙

[maneskinwh0re]

ghostface!sevika x feminine!reader 👻

impulse fic for arctober 29th {sevika day}

men/minors dni, nsfw 18+

middle pic art creds to @ guccipussay 🖤

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cw: dom!sevika, sub!reader, fem!reader, a man…(reader has a bf but dw he don’t last long :3), blood, gore, violence, cheesy horror movie clichés, implied murders, mask k!nk, choking, kn!fe play, wlw smut!

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♱ halloween night — you sit next your boyfriend, cuddled up on the couch with your legs draped over his lap. his eyes linger up and down the black lingerie dress that hugs your curves, while your own eyes are focused on the horror movie playing on the tv.

♱ saw. a great franchise and the original being one of your all time favorites. as you watch, with every jump scare, your boyfriend grabs at your waist or tickles you, which is usually followed by you screaming and then playfully hitting his arm or chest.

♱ you want to like him. you do like him, but he gets on your nerves. yeah — you often go on errand trips and gym sessions with him and yeah — while you’re there, he occasionally flirts with other women when he thinks you aren’t looking. but spending your favorite holiday with him is a must. after all, what could go wrong with a simple horror movie marathon? everything is perfect, yet the night is still young.

♱ the city has been getting more and more dangerous recently, and as the clock nears midnight, all the kids must’ve gone home. the neighborhood is quiet with the exception of owls and chirping crickets.

♱ suddenly, the movie is interrupted by your phone ringing — a call from an unknown number.

♱ typically, you don’t answer a call unless the number is in your contacts, but your boyfriend irritably pauses the movie and insists you pick it up.

♱ with an agitated sigh, you answer. “hello?”

♱ “hello,” the person says on the other line. the voice is deep with a feminine undertone, laced with a rasp that almost catches you off guard.

♱ “who is this?”

♱ “you tell me your name, i’ll tell you mine.”

♱ “i don’t think so. can i help you?”

♱ “i just gotta ask you one question, baby.”

♱ baby? who does this creep think she is? you can’t help but admit her voice sounds attractive. “yeah? what is it?”

♱ “what’s your favorite scary movie?”

♱ your stomach drops and you end the call with a shudder, tossing your phone to the cushion next to you and breathing slow. something in your gut is telling you not to engage.

♱ “so… who was it?”

♱ “probably just some bratty teenagers prank calling or something.”

♱ “you lying to me?”

♱ “no! what?” you blurt out, almost angered with his distrust towards you. with a huff, you push yourself off your boyfriend’s lap and head towards the bathroom. “keep it paused, gimme five.”

♱ after rinsing your face with water, you take some deep breaths in front of the mirror. calm your nerves, it was just a phone call. the tense feeling in your gut still lingers as you walk back to the living room only to see your boyfriend is nowhere to be found. calling out his name, you sit back down on the couch and pick up your phone to dial his contact.

♱ “ugh- i’m not in the mood for this shit!” you yell out to him as you call his phone.

♱ you hear his phone ring in the other room and decide to make your way to the kitchen. you see it buzz repeatedly on the counter, watching it and zoning out as if waiting... something’s not right. where the hell is he?

♱ “your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging syste-” the sound of your call going to voicemail snaps you back to your senses before hanging up and looking around. you’ve seen too many scary movies to know this is how it all starts, and you try not to let the thought freak you out.

♱ startling you again, your own phone buzzes. unknown caller id. taking a deep breath, you tap the green button on your screen. “hello?”

♱ “hello again, beautiful.”

♱ that damn voice again. your anger rises at the woman on the other line. “what is this? some kind of sick joke? a prank?”

♱ “no no, baby. a game. a real easy one. y’ wanna play?”

♱ “what the f… do i have a choice? what’s stopping me from hanging up right now?”

♱ “maybe it’s your fear that you may not live through this very night.” yeah, right. anyone could make threats like this. she continues through your silence, “you never told me your name…”

♱ “why do you wanna know my name?”

♱ “i wanna know who i’m looking at.” your anger fizzles and breath hitches. fear smothers all the oxygen in your lungs and words are caught in the back of your throat. “you do have a choice, dove— to play or to die.”

♱ “fine,” you agree with a shaky breath, you internally scold yourself for turning to grab the nearest knife. who cares if you’re overreacting? you’re not dying tonight. you grip the knife’s handle tight as you hold your phone up to your ear. you start walking out the kitchen and down the hallway before your question is cut off with her single word. “how do i-”

♱ “colder...”

♱ you stop in your tracks. as a horror film fan, you have yelled at your television screen when a character makes a dumb decision or if you’ve wanted a better plot line. you always thought you would make logical choices if you were ever —hypothetically of course— put in a situation like this. but in this current moment, your head is only clouded with uneasy thoughts and vicious worry. you take a step backwards and start to return to the kitchen.

♱ “warmer… warmer,” her voice trails on as you play the game step by step. you pass the living room and enter the kitchen, stopping when you hear her voice again. “ah ah- cold.”

♱ you turn around and slowly creep your way back to the living room. the thought of her eyes constantly watching causes you to feel a mixture of fear and something else. your short steps continue towards the sofa where you sat care-free maybe only 10 minutes ago.

♱ “warmer… warmer… keep moving, baby. you’re doing so good… red hot. riiight there...” the mysterious woman taunts as you look around. and once you catch the sight behind the couch, you can’t help the horrified gasp and shriek that escapes your lips.

♱ your boyfriend lays motionless, face down on the floor in a pool of his own blood. deep gashes and slices have left his body mutilated. yet no weapon is left anywhere.

♱ fuck. this means she’s already in the house. your heartbeat races and your ears start ringing. no- that’s the phone��the sound of a dial tone. she hung up.

♱ you go to grab a bigger knife from the kitchen but they’ve all been taken. what’s the next best weapon? the only other option you see is the dirty pan that’s been left on the stove from dinner. looks like you’re sticking with the smaller knife you grabbed earlier.

♱ your phone goes off again, causing you to yelp at the ringer and then internally curse yourself for being so jumpy. it’s her again. you try to sound confident, but anxiety and dread involuntarily rises from the back of your throat. “what the fuck do you want?”

♱ “you, baby,” her voice is low and sultry, and you try not to let it get to you.

♱ “you’re psychotic…”

♱ “hm… sorry about your boyfriend. all those muscles didn’t help much,” she replies before ending the call again.

♱ you wander the house, preparing yourself to fight at every corner you turn. “where are you, motherfucker?” you whisper to yourself as you start to creep down the hallway. and before you realize what’s happening, a gloved hand reaches around to cover your mouth from behind, muffling your panicked scream that follows.

♱ your phone drops to the floor as you quickly swing your arm back to stab the tall figure behind you. your aggressive attempt to defend yourself is reversed as the woman dodges the knife and spins you so you’re now pinned against the wall. her right hand still muffles your mouth and the left holds your wrist above your head.

♱ your hold on the knife above you is weak as you freeze in her grip, your free hand clawing at her forearm. you can feel the size of her muscular arms in your struggles. once your vision clears, your squirming slows to a stop as you are face to face —or face to mask— with your intruder. her towering figure is clothed in black-hooded fabric and a long black and white mask is layered over her head, its mouth shaped as if screaming.

♱ you breathe through your nose in short gasps. “look at you… even prettier up close.” she tilts her head as if studying you. you’re unable to see her eyes but it’s obvious she’s looking you up and down as if you’re her next meal. “scream for help and you die. y’ got that, angel?” her hand tightens its grip on your mouth and her tone is short and stiff, like a merciless general commanding orders to a feeble soldier. you confirm you understand with a small nod, eyes still welled with tears until you soon blink them away. once your breaths even, she lowers her hand. “there you go, now was that so hard?”

♱ “what the fuck do you want from me?” you ask accusingly, making sure to not get caught up in anger. luckily, your shaky words don’t provoke her and only bring her to a deep chuckle.

♱ “such naughty language,” she says with a tut, almost amused with your fear as she lifts your chin with a gloved finger. you try so hard to push away the butterflies that form in your stomach. “besides, i thought we went over this already.” she lifts her leg between your thighs, teasingly pressing her knee up against you and trapping your body against the wall. a short gasp escapes your lips at the sensation, and she smirks under her mask. she uses this position as leverage to take the knife from your grip and lazily toss it down the hallway. the sudden sound of it clattering to the floor makes you flinch and her hands quickly return to your wrists, pinning them high above your head. “i’m not going to hurt you, angel,” she whispers, her disguised face leaning in close. “not unless you want me to…” and at the end of her sentence, your name rolls off her tongue. how the hell does she know your name?

♱ “y-you’re a damn creep,” you spit back less harsh than intended, and she can tell your barriers are wavering. if you’re being completely honest with yourself, it’s difficult to focus on your frustration when her actions are affecting your body like this. your mind is fuzzy, your chest feels tight, and your core aches. a moment passes as you stare at the woman in front of you, her broad build dominating your figure. the flesh of your bare thighs involuntarily clench on either sides of her knee. you’re in short, black lingerie… of-fucking-course you’re feeling vulnerable in her arms. “what ‘re you gonna do to me then?”

♱ “only things you want me to do, sweetheart.”

♱ and at this, she has you. her words bring a breathy whimper from your lips and you grind yourself against her knee. like a slut. you’re not proud, but it feels good— fear and distress not dissipating but mixing perfectly with pleasure. it’s exhilarating. intoxicating. arousing. it’s a way you’ve never felt before in relation to sex, with your boyfriend or anyone else for that matter.

♱ “y’ dirty little thing. you like this? tryin to get yourself off at the threat of your fuckin life?” she asks, her degrading tone not doing anything to help you come to your senses. “if y’ want help, jus’ use your words.”

♱ “h-help… please,” you nod up to her, squirming and going to cover your face with your hands until you're reminded of her own gloved hands restricting you by the wrists. you want to hide— hide from her, from your shame, from the lust, from your lack of wanting to fight whatever this is. but as soon as she lowers her hand to feel how wet you are through the fabric of your underwear, all negative thoughts abandon your mind.

♱ “give up the fight, dove.” the masked woman’s voice is rich and warm, and you finally pinpoint her subtle puetro rican accent while she speaks. she feels you relax into her hand at her words and loves hearing the quiet sounds you make as one of her fingers slowly circle your clit through the thin, dampened material.

♱ “i give up- i… i give up. please, just-”

♱ “you want me inside you, baby?” she whispers into the nape of your neck, the bloodied plastic of the mask grazing across your exposed collarbone. your hurried nod cues her to remove her right glove, and her left hand lazily shoves it in the back pocket of her black jeans under her cloak. you catch a glimpse of her veined hand before she pushes your underwear to the side and thrusts two thick digits into your wet cunt. you clench around her middle and ring fingers, watching how white rings of cum drip and gather at the dark skin of her knuckles.

♱ her free hand trails up your chest and grips you by the neck, squeezing lightly and bringing a strained moan from the back of your throat. “been watchin' you for a while now. 've seen the way your fingers wrap around this throat as you touch yourself, thinkin' no one could fill those filthy desires o' yours.” your hands grasp at her forearm again and force her grip harder against you. she chuckles once she realizes what you’re trying to do, and decides to give you what you want, a tightening hold that's hard enough to leave bruising. “you like my hand right here? choking the damn life outta you? y're a sick little slut, it’s adorable.”

♱ as her long fingers thrust and curl inside your heat, you find yourself at her mercy while she fucks you against the wall. the thought of your boyfriend's cold, rotting body in the other room is long gone. and you can only focus on how warm this womanly murderer feels against you, killing just so she can get to you. now that thought is what makes you weak in the knees.

♱ “can y' keep yourself standing, baby? or do i need to fuck you on the floor?” she asks as her fingers quicken their movements.

♱ “mph- i can stand!” you insist, trying so hard to keep your jelly knees from buckling under your limp self. you feel your back start to slide down the wall, disproving your protest. you're visibly unable to hold up the weight of your own trembling body. it's not your fault your trespasser just makes you feel so fucking good. so fucking close... until she stops.

♱ her fingers pull out quickly and she seizes one of your arms, not bothering to wipe your juices off her fingers. you feel how soaked two of her fingers are as her large hand grips your upper arm, tightening to a painful squeeze.

♱ “clearly, you don't have the strength. so we're gonna try s'mthin' new,” she says before tearing your underwear off and throwing you to the wooden floor. you lay there for a moment, shock hitting you as you try to take in oxygen again. facing away from the intruder, you bring your forearms close and try to crawl towards the other end of the hallway. your hips roll to the side with every other crawl so you can rub your thighs together, attempting to recreate that same friction you felt seconds ago.

♱ in the state of hysteria, you miss the foul act of the masked woman tucking your underwear into the other back pocket of her pants.

♱ you turn your head up to see her slowly bending down to pick up the kitchen knife she tossed away minutes ago. you see the back of her head through an opening in the mask's fabric. her dark hair is short, maybe reaches just past her ears. but any further sight of her human characteristics are cut short once she stands up and her posture straightens. her head turns to you. and your breath quickens. she begins walking. every brisk step passes faster than the last as she gains more speed down the hallway, knife clutched in her fist.

♱ is this how it truly ends? a trick to get edged and then end up killed? some scary movie.

♱ alarms blare in your mind and genuine fear takes over as you try to crawl away. prey chased by predator. think y' know who wins in this twisted game.

♱ a gloved hand clutches the flesh on your shoulder and flips you onto your back. you can't seem to help your panicked scream that erupts into the fabric of that same damn glove. she removes her palm with a forceful shove away and pins both your wrists to the floor on either sides of your head. she lowers her body on top of you and straddles your hips, shushing you and reassuring she won't hurt you.

♱ you almost believe her until your frightened eyes watch her arm lift, the knife held tight in her fist. she brings it down hard causing you scream again and squeeze your eyes shut, too scared to watch how she guts you. when you don't feel any pain, you peek an eye open to watch her laugh. laugh at your terror, knife still in hand.

♱ rightfully pissed off now, for both fearing for your life and the pleasure she has delayed you of, you spit up at her ghost of a face. your saliva scatters across the plastic, but surely she felt mist of it directly through the patches of the eyes and mouth. she pauses. and if only you could see that sadistic smirk of hers, just so proud of your little defiant act.

♱ but every bad action has its consequence.

♱ the knife lifts again and is slammed down into the floor, just inches to the right of your head. the handle points up to the ceiling and your ghostface girl guides your hand up and wraps your fingers around it, then follows suit and wraps her own left hand around the handle as well. it's sentimental, you tell yourself as you focus on calming your breathing.

♱ her right hand trails down your chest and returns to its place at your cunt. she teases a finger before pushing in two again, and you can't tell how long she keeps delaying your needed orgasm. one moment, you're a pleading mess. the next, you can't speak because her gloved hand clutches at either your mouth or throat. she smells of dried blood and alcohol, bringing you close only to pause her movements for the second time.

♱ “please, i can't keep doing this. i... need to-” your begs are cut off by her taunting words.

♱ “need to what?” she asks, her mask leaning close to your face. “say it.” her intensity rises a blush to your cheeks, and when you can only let out a shy whimper, she withdraws her fingers from your aching heat again.

♱ ignoring your protests, fusses, and pouts, she shoos your hand off the knife's handle next to your head and yanks it out of the floor in one swift movement. she trails the sharp point of the blade down your torso, from your chest all the way to your mound. you can't help the little buck of your hips as the cold metal lightly grazes your clit.

♱ that little movement brings her to a chuckle. “i know a lot o' things about you, dove. but i wasn't sure you'd crave knife play this badly.”

♱ you can only muster a strained groan. and with that, she flips the weapon and gently pushes the handle into your soaking walls. the most provocative of sounds is brought at the contact, and it's music to her ears. she groans in satisfaction and ogles at how well you take it.

♱ her thrusts are slow, careful, gentle, turning and pushing and pulling... mindful of how easily she could injure the flesh of your inner thighs or even your pretty pussy with one wrong move. her skilled hands work you up again, probing your body with her calloused skin.

♱ you feel that knot in your core grow tighter and tighter. in a moment of impulse, your shaky hands reach up to grab hold of the ghostface's mask and pull it up to reveal your intruder's real identity. she just lets you, casually watching your wide-eyed reaction to her appearance as she fucks you faster.

♱ she's fucking gorgeous. you first notice her eyes, a shining grey in contrast to her darker skin. her nose is wide and hooked, her lips are plump and soon turn upward in a sly smirk as you study her. she notices your focus lingering at her lips, so she allows herself to lean in and place a light kiss to your slightly open mouth. your jaw is slack as you continue to take staggered breaths, yet you want more. you chase the kiss once she begins to pull away. connecting your panting mouth to hers again, she pushes her tongue into your mouth with a groan and swallows every sweet whimper she brings from the back of your throat.

♱ the handle of the knife continues to pump in and out of your leaking cunt. she knows you won't last much longer. you can't. you break the kiss at the last possible moment to gasp for air, and she uses that short second to pull her ghostface mask back down with her gloved hand.

♱ she wants her lips to be on yours again, but she'd be damned if she returns to the sensation. she's already internally scolding herself for becoming too attached to the taste of you, but she is just loving how you make vulgar curses sound sweet in the ways they spill from your panting lips. “f-fuck, fuck! i'm gonna-”

♱ “i know, baby, i know,” she says, her deep voice slightly softens as she speeds up her pace and grazes your clit with her thumb. “sevika,” her deep voice mutters close to your ear. and when you bite her clothed shoulder as a way to mute your own uncontrollable whimpers and moans, her gloved hand returns a threatening squeeze to your throat. after forcing you back down to the floor, she speaks again. “scream for sevika. scream my name as you cum on my fingers, dove...”

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♱ blue and red lights move across the walls through the windows. the blaring sounds of sirens are heard from outside. you think you find peace until you hear muffled yells from police officers at your front door, warning anyone who is in the entryway that they're breaking it down. you hear a countdown and loud pounding, but the ringing in your ears is louder.

♱ by the time the officers run down the hallway and get a sight of you, there's scattered radio chatter followed by paramedics springing into action and bombarding you with questions.

♱ “ma'am, can you hear me?” ... “can you tell me your name?” ... “have you been stabbed?” ... “is there anyone else in the apartment with you?” ... “who did this?”

♱ you're coughing and sputtering. your body is in a heap of blood, sweat, and tears (and cum but it's not as noticeable). at this point, you only remember little flashes.

♱ sevika. you never got to tell her how pretty that name is. you remember the outlines of her face. the trace of her fingers... the trace of that knife before it was plunged into you. not deep, nor anywhere vital. you remember being in that post-orgasm gaze... a whisper in your ear — “for evidence...” — and then a sharp pain sliding its way in and out of your side, bringing you to a pile of blood and pained tears on the floor. you were already covered in sweat — she had made sure of it, but then she had to go ruin you again. ruin your body twice.

♱ a flashlight is shining in your eyes, bringing you back to the present as well as attention to the obvious growing blood stain in your clothing. your breathing becomes strained and labored as your vision starts to cloud.

♱ “victim has three visible injuries-” you overhear paramedics take note of your body's condition as they bring in a stretcher to carry you. “stab wound and two abrasions, neck and chest...”

♱ a subtle grin sneaks its way onto your face once you realize why sevika left you in an open pile on the floor. she didn't want to kill you, but she also didn't want to see your name in a court file. seems like getting found with a stab wound would lower your chances of being high suspect for your boyfriend's murder. they have no other leads so far, but sevika made it seem like you were at the wrong place at the wrong time.

♱ you know police will pester you with further questions and investigations, but you don't care. your lips are sealed.

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♡ this was so rushed i actually don’t like it but WHATEV

♡ hope y'all enjoyed! lmk if y'all want this to be a series bc i love halloween too much to only post spooky themes once a year...

- 🐝

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tag list: @lovinglywriting ♡

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Would you consider a request for teenage Suguru and Reader having meet-cutes when he attends missions? She's an amateur photographer who can see Curses, and is desperately trying to catch one on camera. He keeps finding her in dangerous places, but she's really persistent with it, even when he's telling her off 💀😶‍🌫️

Snapshots and Sorcery

A/N: Hi anon! Sorry this took so long. Thank you for such a cute and unique idea! I had fun writing this fic. Also I know that in JJK, Nanami specifically says cursed spirits don't show up in photos but let's ignore that and have this be minorly au-ish. Pairing: Teen! Suguru x Fem!Reader Warnings: None! Cute and fluffy. Word Count: 3.8k

Geto Masterlist | JJK Masterlist | Taglist

The first time Suguru laid eyes on you, it was at a run-down museum that had shuttered closed years ago. The museum was already doing poorly long before it closed, unable to bring in enough revenue, until the bank had seized its assets, and the poor curator had hung himself from the neck of the apatosaurus model in the dinosaur wing.

It was rumored the apatosaurus was haunted, roaring and coming to life at night, thrashing around, and reducing the other exhibits to pieces. Sometimes, the occasional high school student would drop by and peek in through the windows on a dare, then hearing the eerie noises coming from inside the building, make a break for it. The ones that stayed too long were never seen again. 

This is why Geto is here now, creeping stealthily through the museum, the eerie look of the shattered exhibits casting distorted shadows across the length of the corridors as he surveyed for the cause. Although he had been told the curse would most likely be haunting the dinosaur wing, he couldn’t shake off the feeling of another presence nearby, emanating a tinge of cursed energy, but not enough for him to believe it could cause him harm. Just as he’d entered the museum, he’d seen a quick flash of silver making a dash towards the back of the atrium towards the birds exhibit. 

The displays looked uncanny, the taxidermied birds all out of place inside the glass displays, the ones that remained intact staring at him with unseeing, glassy eyes. It was unsettling, then as he rounded a corner, he saw another flash and breaks into a run. The sound of frantic footsteps fills his ears. Worried about losing his quarry, he quickly summons one of his curses, the manta ray one, and lets it loose, the creature quickly flying down the corridor. A shriek followed by muffled shouting fills the narrow space as Geto hurries to catch up.

Whatever it was got caught under the curse, wriggling like a mouse beneath a carpet. Cautiously, Geto calls off the curse and is surprised to see a human underneath. Defiantly, you lift your face to him, ready to fight to the death. For a second, your appearance throws Geto off—a beautiful face, followed by a lovely, feminine body. 

“You’re not a curse.” 

You scoff, fixing sharp eyes on him. “Well aren’t you a genius?” you ask sourly, sizing him up. Despite your irritation, you can’t help but notice the appeal of your assailant, the tall, broad youth with his hair up in a bun. Amethyst eyes focus on you and he seems temporarily at a loss of what to do next. 

“What are you doing here?” Geto demands, acutely aware of how this could throw off his mission. No one had mentioned a civilian being present. You scowl and cross your arms over your chest, and that’s when he notices a strap dangling from your arm, and hanging from it, the source of the flashes of silver he’d been seeing; a fancy-looking point-and-shoot camera. 

“None of your business,” you say stubbornly and Geto scoffs. 

“It is my business if you’re going to cause trouble for me. What’re you carrying that around for anyway?” He gestures to the camera.

“Creepy, allegedly-haunted museum. Thought it would make for a good art study.” Your words were too crafted and came too easily, an evasive quality to them.

“Oh, right, and I’m just supposed to take your word for it?” Geto carefully studies you. Just enough cursed energy, but not enough to be a sorcerer. 

“Well, why are you here?” You shoot his question back to him. “And what kinda uniform is that? I’ve never seen a student wearing that uniform around here before.”

Geto is about to reply, but he’s cut off as he senses a rapid movement of energy coming from the opposite side of the building. Whatever the curse was, it appeared to have scented him, and he had no time to waste chit-chatting.

“Look, I have something to take care of,” he says, urgency creeping into his voice. “If you know what’s good for you, please get out of the museum.”

“Why? It’s a free country. I can-” You stop as an unnatural, hair-raising shriek is heard, echoing from the opposite end of the bird exhibit. You shoot a look at Geto and both of you go tearing off in the opposite direction. 

“I’m Geto Suguru,” he says as you both run, hearing heavy footsteps chasing after them. You manage to give him your name as both of you hurtle out of the birds wing and turn into the entomology section. The curse, thrown temporarily off track, pauses and goes in another direction.

“Look,” Geto says in a whisper, “You need to get out of here. It’s dangerous. I-”

“Then why are you staying? Isn’t it dangerous for you too?” Geto looks at you curiously and something in his brain clicks. 

“You can see them, can’t you?” He asks, and for a moment, you’re startled, looking at him with wide eyes. 

“Yes,” you admit after a beat. “Oh, God! Finally! Someone who can see them too!”

“What’s with the camera?”

“No one believes me when I tell them there are…things. So I was trying to catch one on film.”

Geto looks disbelievingly at you, then shakes his head. “Trust me, it’s not worth your life trying to get a picture of a curse. Now please get out of here so that I can exorcise it.”

“Exorcise? What are you, some sort of priest?”

“A sorcerer,” he admits.

“But this might be my only chance, I-”

“Trust me, it won’t be. There are curses everywhere. But this one is particularly powerful and nasty. Better luck with something less vicious.”

“But I-” You gasp as the curse suddenly makes an appearance, crashing through another entrance at the far end of the exhibit. It was truly grotesque, like a decaying dinosaur carcass come to life, with no skin on its body, eyes red and wild. 

Geto immediately springs into action, calling forth another curse from his arsenal. You can’t tear your eyes away from the scene, your heart hammering in your chest as the handsome youth you had known for all of five minutes goes charging into the fray. The most strange and curious creatures came forth as he summoned them, a small agile human compared to the monstrous dinosaur he was fighting. You attempted to take a picture but with all the movement, each shot was blurred.

You’re praying nothing happens to Geto, then finally, 2 of his curses distract the dinosaur long enough for him to begin the exorcism. With a roar that shook the whole museum, Geto begins to suck the curse into his palm. You watch in wide-eyed fascination, the camera forgotten in your hands as the behemoth swirls into black mist, then becomes encapsulated into a black sphere contained neatly in Geto’s palm. Silence falls through the room, and with a shaky breath, you approach Geto. 

“That was pretty neat,” you say, trying not to tremble. Geto looks at you, then at the orb sitting in his palm like a huge black pearl. 

“Look,” he says sympathetically. “I can understand why you want to photograph a curse. But I’m also telling you it’s dangerous and you could get hurt. You could even die. Haven’t the reports of the missing high school students scared you enough to not want to see one ever?”

You shake your head no. “That’s not going to stop me. I need to prove I’m not crazy. Everyone thinks I’m a freak.”

“I know you’re not crazy. Isn’t that enough?” When you remain silent, he huffs in frustration. “Look, I know it sounds bleak, but trust me. It’s better to live knowing there’s someone who believes you, than dying trying to prove to everyone else that doesn’t.”  

He pats your shoulder, a friendly gesture no doubt, but it sends a current of heat through your body, making you blush. You hoped the lack of lighting in the museum would hide your reaction to him.

The both of you walk together towards the entrance in silence, your heart hammering as you get outside and you see his face in the light. A handsome face, clearly on the brink of manhood, looks down at you with a stern expression.

“Well. Take care of yourself. And no more chasing curses. I hope we don’t meet again. At least, not under such grim circumstances.”

Before you could respond, he was walking away, vanishing into the night.

The days that follow are spent combing through the camera, but all photos of the curse were a waste, too blurry to be salvaged. However, there were several of Geto, and you can’t stop from poring over his face, remembering the way he’d moved and quickly contained the curse, effectively saving your life in the process. You hated to admit it, but you were smitten with him.

He had called himself a sorcerer. You wished you had asked for his phone number before he’d vanished. Partly because you wanted to ask him more questions, but also because you’d never had someone in your life who you could talk to about curses, as he’d called them. He knew you weren’t crazy. That thought gave you so much hope, that there was someone who believed you, who saw the terrible things you saw.

It had taken months for you to work out the curse’s location in the museum. You wondered if you managed to find another one…would he be there?

With that, you start an internet search, looking up haunted locale and areas reporting missing people within Tokyo. 

»•» 📷 «•« “Not you again!”

Geto lets out an exasperated sigh as he sees you lingering near the entrance of an old, ruined temple, tucked away in an isolated, mountainous region outside of the city. 

You grin, trying not to let on how eager you are to see him, almost skipping over to him as he rolls his eyes. Admittedly, it had been a chance to go to this location, but you couldn’t be more pleased that your guess was correct. 

“You have a death wish, don’t you?” 

“So do you if you work as a sorcerer,” you bite back, now next to him. Your trusted camera hangs from your arm and he groans at the sight.

“You still haven’t given up the idea of catching one of these things on camera?” he asks, irritated.

“Nope! And I figured, with a sorcerer by my side, I might actually capture a picture, and leave the place alive.”

Geto rolls his eyes at your persistence. “You are not following me in there.” 

“Oh please. Like that’ll stop me.”

“This curse is too dangerous.”

“Do you just say that for all the curses you handle?” you ask in a bored tone. 

“No. You just happen to be at places where the really dangerous ones nest. Are you like a magnet or something? Just…pulled in even against better judgment?”

“Then what does that make you?”

The defiant way you say it makes him snort. “I’m not here out of morbid fascination. I’m here because this is my job.”

He says the words with a touch of finality and turns to walk into the temple, then yells out in dismay as you run past him. He catches up to you quickly, grabbing hold of your wrist and making your heart pound in your chest which had nothing to do with the exertion from running.

“Don’t make me drag you out of here. I’ll place one of my curses near the entrance to watch you so that you can’t get in.”

When you continue to pout he sighs. “You really want a picture huh?”

You nod enthusiastically. “I really do.”

And I want to see you again. 

The words form in your mind, unbidden. “Isn’t there any way you can tell me if a curse is dangerous or not? All I want is the one picture.”

“And you’d stop putting yourself in danger?”

“Yes! Promise!”

Geto tsks impatiently, wanting to finish his mission as quickly as possible, then relents as you continue looking at him like a puppy.

“Fine,” he says indignantly pulling his mobile phone from his pocket. “What’s your number?”

You blink. “You’re asking for my number?” You try not to sound breathless.

“Yes.” There’s a bite of impatience in his voice. “C’mon, hurry up I haven’t got all day.”

You quickly recite your number, and he saves it, sending you a text to confirm. Your face is a little too pink when you get his text, but you look at him neutrally as he heads inside.

“Please don’t follow me,” he says and there is a tinge of concern in his voice.

“Scout’s honor,” you say, striking the gesture with your fingers, and he throws you a glance over his shoulder that could’ve suggested amusement before being swallowed by the temple entrance. 

Almost a month passes by before you see him again.

Geto was always busy and away on some mission or another. The last few curses had all been classified as a grade 2 or higher, so you hadn’t had an opportunity to take a picture just yet.

However, of late, he’d been texting you after getting back to his dorm room from missions, asking about your day and how you were doing. Used to being the weird girl, isolated, misunderstood, because you could see cursed spirits, you had never experienced this kind of amity before. You’d text him late into the night, waiting up for him sometimes until he texted first.

One night, you were restless. It had been weeks since you last saw him, and when he texted you, confirming he was back in the city, you boldly asked if he wanted to go into the shopping district with you. You didn’t need anything, but there was a weird emptiness inside you, a need to see him again, to convince yourself he was real, this person who finally understood the frustration you’d experienced your whole life. He was sympathetic to you, telling you that this was a classic age-old problem between sorcerers and regular humans. 

“We’re kind of like the trash cans of society,” he says jokingly, sipping his milk tea as the both of you wandered through the streets, waiting at the signal light to cross. “We get rid of all the garbage that festers from normal humans, yet people always turn up their noses at us.”

You listen to him in fascination, quietly sipping your own tea. “I wish I could be a student at your high school,” you murmur. Geto’s expression changes slightly, as though he’s weighing what he should say next. The bright lights of the shopping district float around you as wait for his next words. 

“I understand why you’d feel that way. But trust me you don’t.”

“Trust me I do. At least no one will think I’m the weird girl. No one will doubt me if I say I see something, because you can see it too.”

“Yes, but it’s also mission after mission. Death. Risking your life. You saw what happened at the museum.”

“But your life is so cool! You said you can control the curses you absorb right?” You falter at the look on his face, displeasure falling over it like a veil.

“Do you know how I absorb those curses?” he asks quietly, all traces of geniality disappearing from his voice. The unexpected harshness catches you off guard. Swallowing, you venture a guess.

“You put them into those spheres right?”

“That’s to contain them. Do you know what happens after that?” Geto looks like his milk tea was suddenly replaced by sludge. You meekly shake your head no, his demeanor starting to frighten you a little bit. “I swallow them. I literally eat them. Do you know what it’s like, eating a cursed spirit?” He pushes on, not bothered to hear your response. 

“It tastes like a rag that’s been used to wipe up shit and vomit. And I do this over and over again because it’s what’s expected of me. I’ve never been allowed to make a choice that doesn’t surround jujutsu. I can’t leave, because what would happen to humanity, the non-jujutsu humans?” All the bitter feelings he’s been bottling up come spilling out. He couldn’t believe that you wanted his life, especially not after seeing the kinds of situations he’s put into regularly.

No one understood him, not even at school, because curse absorption was such a rare ability. Even if he tried to put it into words, he knew how everyone would react; like it was his duty to continue to do it even if he hated it, treated like some sort of heroic martyr for protecting the human race. For once, he’d love to be you, able to see cursed spirits, but having zero obligation to do anything about it. The appeal of the milk tea dissipates, and he throws it into a trash can, disgust lining his face as his feelings about sorcery start bubbling up.

“I can never think of having a normal life. Going into something other than sorcery, or to just have a selfish moment where if I don’t want to take on a cursed spirit, I can say no and walk away.” He starts walking faster and you’re almost sprinting to keep up with him.

“Geto!”

“You don’t understand how lucky you are! I’d pick being the class weirdo any day over having to absorb a cursed spirit.”

You hurry behind him, trailing in his wake, worrying you have ruined everything. “Geto please- I didn’t mean-”

“I’d love to be normal! To go on a date, maybe hold hands, maybe even kiss a girl if I get lucky! Where’s the time for that? If I’m absorbing cursed spirits all the time? I know what it tastes like! Who would want to be with me? Who would want to kiss me?” 

You’ve both walked a reasonable distance from the main shops onto a waterfront shopping strip. It was quieter here, a pleasant breeze flowing through the night air as Geto heatedly walked towards the railing, you scurrying behind him. You manage to catch hold of his hand and to your relief, he doesn’t pull away.

“Geto.” Your heart aches for him. “I’m sorry I brought it up,” you mumble, wishing he’d turn around and look at you. He peers over the railing at the water, watching little lily pads float on the surface.

The silence between you both is deafening. Treading carefully, you try to talk to him again, keeping your voice gentle. “Geto, before I met you, do you know what my life was like? With everyone thinking I was a liar? Or that I was making up things to get attention?” 

When he doesn’t say anything, you continue. 

“I had no one. Everything changed when I met you. I felt like…someone finally gets it. And it’s not just me who can see those awful things. They really exist, and there are lots of people who can see them. It made me feel…a little less alone.” 

He turns to look at you, his expression doubtful and your heart skips a beat as you realize you're still holding his hand, the tension between you both blossoming like springtime wildflowers. 

“You said you wanted…to hold hands. To kiss someone.” You draw closer. “What would you do…If I said…I want to do those things with you?”

His eyes widen as you get closer but he doesn’t push away. “I’d ask you if you were sure because you might be making a mistake.”

You shake your head. “I’m positive I’m not making a mistake.”

His hand, the one you’re holding onto tightens around your smaller one and pulls you against him. You inhale, his skin smelling wonderful and his chest so big and broad and warm. 

“Geto…” Your voice is lost amidst the tangle of nerves and rush of excitement, both hearts hammering in their chests. Shy inexperience made both of you blush before you raised your head, and Geto’s tips downwards, and your lips met gently, a subtle brush against the other before breaking away. You giggle awkwardly, unable to stop and Geto also grins sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. 

“Um…that was nice,” he murmurs, not looking at you and chuckling, unsure what to say. 

“Was that a good first kiss?” 

“Oh!” Geto now laughs too but still doesn’t pull away, instead, maintains proximity with you, and brushes some loose hair away from your face. “Uh, yeah. It was…like how I imagined it.”

Silence falls between you both, not an uncomfortable one, but the kind where both kissers are considering if they should change topics or kiss again to make sure the first one wasn’t imagined. 

Geto’s eyes suddenly widen as he sees something floating near your head. He pulls you close to him, then huffs as he sees a harmless flyhead, then with a jolt of realization, he taps your shoulder.

“Flyhead curse! It’s harmless! Take your picture now!”

“What?” you look over your shoulder and see the creepy-looking gremlin of a creature then gasp. “I don’t have my camera!”

“Phone! Quick!” Without hesitating, Geto reaches out and grabs the flyhead which struggles and buzzes angrily but is too weak to try escaping. It squirms and tries to sink its little teeth into Geto’s fist and he shakes it angrily. 

“Hurry up!”

With hands trembling in excitement, you pull out your phone and quickly snap a crystal-clear picture the the ugly critter. It makes a low grumbling noise and Geto throws it away into the air. It mutters angrily at him before zooming away.

“Shouldn’t you have exorcized that?” you ask, looking in awe at the photo on your phone. 

“Nah. It’s pretty harmless. Chances are it’ll get squished by a lower-rank sorcerer by daybreak.”

Your cheeks are red with happiness, triumph glittering in your eyes. “I can’t believe it, I actually got a picture of it…” You rake a hand through your hair.

Geto silently watches your outburst of enthusiasm, a smile tugging his lips. “So what’s more exciting - you finally catching a curse on camera, or the fact that you just had your first kiss and it was with me?” His voice is soft and teasing and you roll your eyes but fail to control the dusting of pink in your face.

“I think I need to experience it again before I can decide.”

“Is that right?” Suguru smirks before pulling you closer to him. “Let’s see if we can help you make a decision.”

You grin widely before your lips touch again, and you knew it had never been a question from the start. 

@estarlias @daswanj @actuallysaiyan @whatshernameis

@byul9158 @mirrors-musings @Mangiswig

@that-goth-bisexual @connorsui @jadedjane @darkstarlight82

@soft--cherry @galactict3a @hunnie-lily

[morgana-larkin]

Alright, after much research and knowing absolutely nothing about what I’m writing, I finally finished the fic. I’ll admit that I’m like the reader in this case and have absolutely no idea how the fuck to flirt. The fact that I’ve had 2 relationships is a miracle in itself. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: I’ll be doing your prompts next as I have just under 20 in my inbox. They’re mostly Melissa prompts but I do have a couple Chessy ones and 1 Agatha prompt.

The Art Of Flirting

Warnings: small amount of swearing

Words: 6k

You walk into the break room looking for Melissa. You walk a couple steps in and look around for the redhead only to realise she’s not there.

“Hey Barb, have you seen Melissa?” You ask her.

“Not since this morning dear. She might just be running late.” Barb tells you and you sigh and turn around to leave. As soon as you turn around you run right into the redhead herself and she places her hands on your waist to stabilise both of you.

“Hey hon, sorry, didn’t mean to bump into you.” She tells you and you just stare at her, frozen in fear and nervousness.

“Oh, uh, um, it’s-it’s alright. I- I got to go, see you later.” You tell her and bolt out of there.

Melissa watches you leave in confusion before she goes to sit down at the table with Barb.

You enter your classroom and immediately close the door. You put your hands over your eyes in embarrassment and sigh. You just made a complete fool out of yourself in front of Melissa as usual. But honestly, how could anyone act normal around her with how beautiful she is? It’s impossible. You developed a crush on her when you started as the new art teacher 5 months ago.

You go and sit at your desk and start another drawing of Melissa in your sketchbook, a sketchbook that’s full of drawings of her. Is it an obsession to have 100 different sketches of Melissa in different positions and places? Maybe borderline obsession.

After you finish the sketch of Melissa on her phone at the table in the break room, you put your sketchbook away and sit back in your seat. You really want to flirt with her to try and see if she’s interested in you or to let her know that you’re interested in her but there’s one problem with that plan, how the fuck do you flirt?

You get your phone out and decide to google it. It comes up with a bunch of different suggestions and you write down all the ones that come up the most on each website. You just conveniently scroll past the part where it says confidence is very attractive on women, it’s already been established that you have none in front of her. Alright now to put some of these to the test.

First thing on the list: make eye contact.

Watch out Melissa, I’m gonna eye contact the fuck out of you. You then cringe at your own thoughts and sigh.

After school you try and book it quickly to get to the other side of the school in time to walk with Melissa to your cars. You see her locking up her classroom by the time you get there and you walk up to her.

“H-hey Melissa.” You stutter out and she turns around and smiles when she sees it’s you.

“Hey Y/N. How was your day today?” She asks you as you both start walking to the parking lot.

“It-it was alright. How was yours?” You manage to get out.

“It was good, the students actually listened and they all behaved today.” She says and you can’t help but stare at her as she smiles. The point is to make eye contact but you stare at all of her. “Why are you staring?” She asks you.

“What? Me? Staring? Never.” You say with a small laugh and she looks at you confused for a second then just continues the walk to your cars.

“So any weekend plans?” She asks you.

“Umm, nope. I have a pretty boring life. A good weekend for me is curled up on the couch with a good book or a nice tv show or movie to watch.” You tell her while occasionally looking away.

“Hey, I find a night on the couch to be a pretty awesome night.” She says and you just stare at her the entire time.

‘Try to make eye contact, try to keep eye contact.’ Is constantly in your head.

“You’re staring again.” She says.

“I’m not staring… I’m just looking at you while you talk.”

“Hon, that’s called staring.” She states.

“No, it’s called listening while you talk.” You counter and she shakes her head at you with a smile.

“Whatever you say, hon.” She says as you both reach her car and she unlocks it. “See you tomorrow, good night.” She says and then goes to get in her car.

“Good night, Melissa.” You tell her before she closes her car door. You then walk to your car with a smile on your face. ‘I think that went pretty well.’

The next morning you walk into the break room and get your coffee ready. You then go to sit on the couch like you normally do but Melissa stops you.

“Hon, how about you sit with us this morning?” She asks and you look at her in shock. The Melissa Schemmenti, the woman who barely tolerates newbies, just asked you, a newbie, to sit at her table. You almost couldn’t believe it and you smile at her.

“Are you sure?” You ask her and she nods. “Alright, since you’re offering then sure.” You say and go sit on the chair next to her.

“Dear, the project you did with my class yesterday was amazing! My students couldn’t stop talking about it.” Barb told you and you smiled.

“Really? I’m so happy they loved it. And your kindergarteners are adorable.” You told her and Melissa was looking at you with a soft smile the entire time.

“My little eagles love your class as well. They always can’t wait and never want to come back.” Melissa joked with you and you both laughed.

When you both look up from laughing you lock eyes with each other and your breath hitches. Melissa goes back on her phone and you just keep staring at her, she was so beautiful.

“You’re staring again, hon.” Melissa suddenly says as she looks at you and you lock eyes with her again.

“I- I wasn’t staring at you.” You say, voice a bit higher than you intended and Melissa quirks an eyebrow at you.

You pull your phone out and take a look at the list. You think eye contact failed and should try the next thing.

Second thing on the list: compliment her.

‘Ok, I can do that. I always think she looks beautiful. Just have to vocalise it.’ You think and smile as you look up at her. You open your mouth to speak but at the same moment she looks at you and all words left your brain and you quickly shut your mouth.

“Were you gonna say something hon?” Melissa asks you.

“I was but then I literally blanked and forgot.” You say a little shyly and Melissa smiles and shakes her head.

2 hours later there’s a knock on your classroom door and you get up to go open it. You know exactly who’s there, it’s Melissa and her class.

“Hey Melissa!” You say cheerfully and she smiles at you.

“Hey hon, here to drop off the little eagles.” She says and you signal for her students to walk in the classroom. While the students walk in your classroom, you take a look at Melissa. She’s wearing the leather pants that you love on her, a red low cut top and her beautiful ginger locks flowing down to her chest.

“You look really good today.” You tell her and she looks up at you with a smile.

“Ya?” She asks and you nod. “You’ve seen me in this outfit before and you didn’t say anything then.” She tells you with a head tilt.

“Oh…uh, we-well you looked good then but I just didn’t say anything and-”

“Hon, I’m just teasing you, relax. Thank you for the compliment.” She tells you with a chuckle and your cheeks turn red from embarrassment.

The next day, Melissa walks in as you’re on the couch sketching a picture of her. You were really into the sketch that you didn’t register her entering or walking towards you.

“That’s a nice sketch of me.” She says and you jump at her being close to you and quickly close the sketchbook.

“MELISSA! Oh hi!” You say with a higher pitched voice and she giggles at your reaction.

“Can I see the sketch?” She asks as she sits down beside you. You nervously nod your head and then turn it to the correct page of the sketch, carefully to not let her see the other sketches of her, the 100 other sketches of her. You don’t want her to think you’re a stalker. You showed her the sketch and she looks at it with a smile for a few seconds. “This is really good, no wonder you’re an art teacher.” She tells you.

“Tha-thanks. It’s not finished and I didn’t have you posing, although neither did I ask your permission. I’m sorry.” You tell her and she waves you off.

“Don’t be sorry, I’m flattered you’d rather sketch me then someone else. And I’d be happy to pose for you.”

“Really?” You say, shocked.

“Yep, but I’d like to keep the sketch after.” She says and you immediately nod.

“Alright, deal.” You say and then you both shake on it. You should have thought through the idea of shaking hands with her cause as soon as your hands touched, you immediately don’t want to let go. Her hand was so soft and you like the way it feels in yours.

“Come to my place after school today if you’re free and you can sketch me then.” She offers and you immediately nod with a smile.

“I’m definitely free, I’ll be there.” You say and she smiles then gets up.

“Great, I’ll text you my address.” She says and then leans down and lowers her voice so no one else hears. “Oh and btw, you look really cute when you’re concentrating on your work.” She says with a wink, then goes to sit with Barb.

‘What the fuck just happened?’ You think and you might as well have error 404 written across your face cause you don’t move at all for a few seconds.

After school you’re heading to the parking lot when you get a text. It’s from Melissa and you can’t help the smile that formed on your face.

Melissa: Hey Y/N, here’s the address of my castle! Feel free to show up anytime between now and 6 😉

You: I’ll be there in an hour! Why between now and 6?

Melissa: to feed you dinner of course!

You: oh, you don’t need to do that

Melissa: I insist, and I gotta do something to pay you back for sketching me

You: you not being angry at me for sketching you without your permission is good enough for me

Melissa: any dietary restrictions?

You: I’m not getting out of this am I?

Melissa: nope 😉

You: no restrictions

You check the list on your phone for another flirting technique.

Third on the list: light touching

You show up at Melissa’s place an hour later and she opens the door and smiles when she sees it’s you.

“Hey hon.” She says and moves to the side to let you in.

“Hi Melissa.” You say and then take your shoes off before Melissa is guiding you to her couch with one hand on your back. When she put one hand on your back you froze for half a second and you hope she didn’t notice. “So what kind of sketch of yourself do you want?” You ask her once you both sit on the couch.

“Hm, how about me posing on the couch?” She says and you quirk an eyebrow as you flip to an empty page in your sketchbook.

“You’re not talking like titanic style are you?” You ask her and she chuckles.

“No, although maybe I’ll consider that in the future, I do have a great body.” She says and then winks at you. You sit there staring at her like a deer in the headlights, not knowing what to say. “You finished the sketch from earlier.” She says as you were on the page from your last sketch. You nod and then show her how it looks as it’s done. “Wow, you’re an amazing artist.” She says as she looks at it with a smile.

“Thank you.” You say as you look at her with a smile.

“Have you sketched any other teachers?” She suddenly asks as she looks up at you.

“Not in a while.” You say and she looks confused at you. “When I first started I sketched everything and everyone. I like sketching different things and people, and everything was new. I haven’t sketched the other teachers since Halloween.” You tell her and she smiles at you.

“Did you sketch everyone in their costumes?” She asks and you nod. “Can I see it?”

“It’s in another sketchbook.” You tell her and she gives you a little pout. “I can bring it in on Monday if you want.” You say quickly and a smile forms back on her face.

“I’d like that.” She says and you smile and nod at her.

“What other sketches do you have in this one?” She asks you and you suddenly feel nervous. You brought the sketchbook that’s full of sketches of her, a mistake on your part.

“I- I, it’s private.” You say and she looks at you confused but she lets it go.

“Alright, so what do you want to sketch? The one for me.” She says and you think about it.

“Well what do you normally do when you’re at home?” You ask her.

“I cook, grade stuff if I need to catch up, eat, watch tv. On the weekends though it’s different.” She says and you tilt your head. “Other than cooking, I do chores, visit family members, occasionally do something with Barb.” She says and you smile softly at her. Then you suddenly get an idea as you see how she’s sitting right now. She’s sitting on the couch with her body towards you, her left leg on the couch tucked under her body, with her left arm on the back of the couch and head resting on her hand.

“You know, how you are right now is perfect. It looks natural for you.” You tell her and she looks down at herself then back at you.

“You want me to stay as I am and just look at you?” She says and quirks an eyebrow.

“Well that’s if you want the drawing to be of you on the couch.” You say as you flip to an empty page in your sketchbook.

“That’s alright with me.” She says as you get one of the pencils you brought.

“Do you want to be smiling or just a natural look?” You ask her and she thinks about it for a second.

“Smiling.” She says.

“Do you mind smiling then? I’ll be doing your face first.” You tell her and she nods then does a smile.

You take a deep breath and then begin your sketch. In all your sketches of Melissa, you never have one where she’s posing for you. Having her look at you as you’re drawing her is very different.

“You can stop smiling now if you want.” You tell her as you finish her face. Melissa does stop smiling and just has a natural look now and starts a conversation with you as you continue the sketch.

“When did you start doing sketches?” She asks as you do the outline of her body.

“For as long as I remember. I was a shy kid and it was hard for me to make friends so I drew instead.” You tell her as you move to the side of the couch to sketch her full body. You get to the part where you’re sketching her chest and you can’t help but blush as you look at her chest.

“Why are you blushing?” She asks you.

“No reason, just um, not used to having someone look at me as I sketch them. Only my family ever did.” You tell her and she smiles at you.

“Well you’re beautiful when you blush.” She tells you and you immediately snap your head up at her and she winks at you. You blush even more but you go back to the sketch and try to calm your blush down. After half an hour, you finish the sketch and turn it around to show her.

“What do you think?” You ask her as she looks at it.

“It’s perfect.” She says and then you carefully ripe the page out and hand it to her. She reaches out and takes it and your hands brush together briefly and your breath hitches slightly as you feel her soft skin. She examines it more closely with a smile before she gets up. You put your stuff away as she hangs the drawing up on her fridge. You get up and follow her to the kitchen just as she’s putting food from a container on two plates. “I hope you like lasagna cause that’s the leftovers that I have.” She says and you smile at her.

“I’m positive I’ll love it. I’ve heard nothing but great things about your cooking.” You tell her and she smiles as she puts one of the plates in the microwave. “I really like your house, it’s very homey.” You tell her as you look around her kitchen.

“Thank you.” She says and puts the second plate in the microwave after taking the first one out.

“You’re the first person I’ve seen to have plastic on the couch though.” You tell her and she giggles a bit.

“My family is Italian and love wine. So when they come over I don’t want them to spill on the couch.” She says and you nod in understanding. “Come and eat.” She says as she takes the two plates over to her dining table. You take the first bite and the flavours explode in your mouth and you let out a small moan.

“Omg Melissa this is incredible.” You tell her with a smile.

“Thanks hon.” She says and then you both continue on with normal chatter until you leave. “I’ll see you on Monday, and don’t forget the sketchbook.” She says as you’re at her door, ready to leave.

“Don’t worry, I won’t forget, see you on Monday Melissa.” You tell her and then you leave. Once you get home you take a deep breath and sit on the couch. You didn’t really flirt with her but you got to spend a lot of time with her alone and without interruptions. You smile at that thought and then go to find your filled sketchbooks and grab the one that you’re looking for to show her on Monday.

When Monday rolls around, you grab all your things and make your way to school. You walk into the break room and make a coffee. Melissa looks at you as you make a coffee and then invites you to sit next to her when you’re done.

“As promised, the sketchbook I used when I first got here.” You tell her and she smiles as you hand it to her. She gets you to scoot closer to her and you do it immediately and then she looks at the sketches you did. You have drawings in there of Abbott mostly, of the break room, some classrooms, the gym, the playground. Then she sees some of the teachers making their way into the drawings. She sees herself in a few of them, especially in the break room ones. You decide to put your flirting into action as she’s distracted and move your leg slightly so that your thigh is touching hers. You keep it there and she doesn’t say anything, she just asks you about some of your drawings and you happily explain them to her.

She then flips the page and she sees a drawing of a few kids in costumes and realises that she’s at Halloween. She looks at a few drawings and then gets one of just her in the break room, on her phone with a lollipop in her mouth. She looks at it with a smile and flips the page. She sees that it’s another sketch of her in her costume. It was after haunting baby Thanos and you were all sitting in the gym as the kids tired themselves out. You were all there but she sees that you only drew her. She flips the page and sees a picture of Draemond, the owner of charter schools, there with devil horns and she giggles.

She flips a few more pages and sees herself and Barb at their table in their Christmas clothing. She flips to the next page and it’s her with the read-a-thon medal and a huge smile on her face. She then gets to the end of the sketchbook and she hands it back to you. “Your sketches are amazing, hon.” She tells you and you take the sketchbook back with a blush. Melissa then goes to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and you look at her. “There, it was getting in the way.” She says with a smile then goes to her phone. You go on your phone to check the list again as you don’t have a lot of reasons to touch her. Then it hits you, you never moved your thigh away from hers and she didn’t either. You glance down and sure enough your thighs are still touching and Melissa doesn’t seem to mind. You now look at the list to try and flirt some more with her.

Fourth on the list: Get her to talk about herself.

Ok this one seems easy, you can do this. “So Melissa.” You start and she looks at you with a smile. “What are you doing today with your students? Any activities or something fun?” You ask her and she thinks about it for a second before her eyes widen and she starts collecting her things.

“You just reminded me that I gotta get the classroom ready for a science project.” She says quickly and quickly walks out of the room. You sigh with a pout and Barb looks at you with a gentle smile.

“Don’t worry dear, one day she’ll notice your advances.” She tells you and your eyes widen as you look at her.

“Wha?” You ask her and she shakes her head with a smile.

“I know you like her, it’s no mystery.” She tells you and you put your head in your hands.

You pull your phone out for something to do and it’s still on the list and you’re about to close it when you read the next thing.

Fifth on the list: Go out of your way to be nice.

You have a perfect opportunity, you can help her set up her classroom. You say goodbye to Barb and then you head to Melissa’s classroom. Once you get there you see her frantically setting things up and you knock on the door. She looks up at you and she smiles at you before continuing setting up.

“Hey hon, I’m sorry that I left so quickly.” She tells you and you walk in.

“That’s alright, I just came over to see if I could help you.” You tell her and she looks at you.

“Really?” She asks and you nod. “That would be great, hon.” She tells you and you walk over to grab some of the paper out of her hand. You think you have the perfect opportunity to double flirt, help her and get her to talk about herself.

“So what experiment are they doing today?” You ask her and she smiles.

“Volcanos. We’ve been learning about them so today we’re doing the baking soda and vinegar volcano.” She tells you excitedly.

“You seem more excited than the kids.” You joke with her and she giggles.

“It’s the most fun experiment of the year.” She says.

You shake your head at her before an idea pops in your head. “Hey, I got an idea but you can always say no.” You tell her and she looks at you and tilts her head. “Well you know how I have your class second period today?” You start and she nods her head. “How about we combine them. We can even decorate the volcanoes. I get bring over some art supplies and make a whole 2 hour experiment!” You tell her and you calm down when you finish the idea.

“That’s actually an amazing idea and I’d love to do that.” She says and you quirk your eyebrows.

“But…” You say and she shakes her head at you with a smile.

“No but, it sounds amazing and we should do it.” She tells you and you jump up and down.

“Omg! Ok, I’ll go grab some supplies and l’ll be right back!” You say excitedly and run out.

You return 5 minutes later, a few minutes before the bell rings with some painting supplies. You both continue setting up, including the art supplies and finish right as the bell rings. Melissa goes to greet her students as you stand at the front of the classroom and the students look around at the materials.

“Ms. Y/L/N, what are you doing here?” One of her students ask you.

“Me and Ms. Schemmenti will explain everything when everyone is settled in.” You tell them and they nod their head and take a seat.

“Alright my little eagles!” Melissa says and you shake your head at that, of course she includes the eagles in her teaching. “Today is volcano experiment day!” She says and the students begin to cheer. “And Ms. Y/L/N here is helping us with it. We’re combining our classes so we’ll have 2 hours to build and decorate our volcanoes.” She explains and all the students begin side chatter with someone beside them.

“And we can do a competition! The group with the best looking and best working volcano will have bragging rights for the day.” You tell them and they all cheer again. One of the students raise their hand and looks at you. “Yes Makayla?” You ask her.

“Does the best looking means that they have to look like a volcano?” She asks and you think about it.

“Hm, good question. I’m gonna say no. Just go crazy and make it look however you want it to look. And if you need any specific art supplies then let me know and I’ll go get it for you.” You tell everyone and they all have a big smile. “Anything to add Ms. Schemmenti?” You ask her as you look at her.

“Nope, I think it’s time we split into groups.” She tells them. You split the class into groups and they all get started on their volcanoes. “You know there’s extra supplies if you want to make a volcano together?” She asks you as you smile and then you both start constructing one. You both work on it and also help the students with theirs if they ask.

“So how should we decorate it?” You ask as you add some paper to the volcano but it didn’t stick.

“Here you didn’t add enough glue.” She says and stands behind you. She takes the piece of paper and dips it into the glue and then passes it to you and both stick the piece onto the volcano successfully. “I think it should be a black volcano with pink lava.” She says with a big smile and you shake your head and smile as well.

“I think we can make that happen.” You tell her and she beams. Once the paper dries then you set up the paint and you take turns painting parts of it. When Melissa finishes painting it completely black then you get the pink paint and a smaller paint brush. You begin painting lines on the volcano while she paints the top of it. Melissa gets the lava ready with extra baking soda as you’re using paint instead of food colouring which is heavier. Once everyone is done then you all test the volcanoes. The last one to test was yours and Melissa’s and it worked and started pouring out pink lava to which the whole class was in awe.

After they all get tested then you and Melissa quickly discuss who wins and then announce the best group. They all clap for the winning team and then you get everyone to help clean up.

“Thank you for today.” Melissa says as you both clean up your area. “This was a really fun idea.”

“It’s not a problem Melissa, and I had a lot of fun today as well.”

“We should combine our classes together more often.” She says and you smile at her.

“I would love that.” You tell her and then continue cleaning up before you had to leave for your third period class. You’re lucky you had a spare at the beginning of the day so you could do this project with her and her class.

At lunch you bump into her on the way to the break room and she starts laughing at how you look. “Did you get paint shot at you?” She asks through giggles.

“Something like that. The kids and I were having fun with the paint and they decided to attack me with paint. This is why I only use washable paint.” You say.

“Come here.” She tells you and she brings you to the sink in the break room. She gets paper towels and begins cleaning the paint off of your face. The rest of the crew walks in while Melissa is wiping the paint off your face and they all start laughing at your state.

“Dear, what on earth happened to you?” Barb asks as she tries not to laugh.

“Third graders wanted to have fun today with paint.” You tell everyone.

“And it seems you were their main target.” Melissa says and she starts giggling again while wiping near your mouth. She then starts wiping your mouth and you both freeze for a second and Melissa looks up into your eyes before looking back at your mouth and then goes back to wiping your mouth. “If it’s any consolation, you look like an art teacher.” She jokes with you and you both start laughing at the joke. Melissa finally gets all the paint off your face and neck and then you both start to have lunch.

“Thanks for getting all the paint off my face.” You tell her and she smiles at you.

“Not a problem, hon.” She says and then goes and explains to Barb the volcano project.

“Wow, it seems you two had a fun morning.” Barb tells you both and you both nod and Meliss turns to look at you.

“We did ya. I was already looking forward to the volcano project but you made it even better.” She tells you and you blush.

Once lunch ends then all the teachers go and collect their class, you on the other hand have a spare right now so you walk to your classroom and start to get it ready for Janine’s class that are coming next period. While getting it ready you begin to think of your plan of flirting with Melissa, it seems to be going well except that you’re barely doing anything. And then it hits you, Melissa is doing the flirting and you’ve been flirting back with her. She’s the one making eye contact with you, complimenting you, lightly touching you, getting you to talk about yourself and even helping you out. You facepalm as you didn’t even notice before, how oblivious are you?

At the end of the day, you’re sitting on the couch in the break room, finishing up a sketch. Teachers walk in and out quickly to get their lunch and then go home. Melissa walks in with Barb but then notices you on the couch, she says goodbye to Barb and then walks over to you and looks at your drawing. It’s another sketch of her, only it’s her painting the volcano.

“That sure was fun today.” She says from behind you and scares the shit out of you.

“OMG! MELISSA! Why do you keep scaring me like that?” You ask her and she starts laughing.

“Sorry hon, but it is funny.” She says as you pout. “Btw, that’s another sketch of me, I seem to be your favourite subject to sketch.” She tells you and you blush.

“Really? I didn’t even notice but I guess so.” You tell her, trying to cover up the fact that the sketchbook is full of sketches of her. You both start walking out when your book slips out of your hands and falls in front of her. The curiosity gets the better of Melissa as she looks at the sketches after picking it up. She’s able to get away from your attempts at getting the book back as you don’t want her to think you’re some sort of freak or stalker.

“I guess I really am your favourite subject.” She says as she flips through all the sketches, you’ve already given up your attempts and just lets her look. She finishes looking at them after a few minutes and gives it back to you. “I wouldn’t mind keeping some of those.” She says and you clutch the book close to you.

“Of-of course, you can keep a-any sketch you want.” You stutter out and she smiles at you.

“Why didn’t you want to show me your sketchbook before?” She asks you and you sigh.

“Because if you found out I have a sketchbook of just sketches of you then you might think I’m a freak or something.” You admit to her.

“Hon I don’t think you’re a freak for it. Many artists have something or someone that they love to sketch. I have a few artists in my family and they all tell me that.” She says and you look at her. You then remember your discovery a couple hours ago and you surge forward and kiss her. You could feel her being stunned at first and as you go to pull away she starts kissing you back. You both pull apart when air is needed and then you look at each other as you catch your breath. “Thank god, I was wondering if you liked me back for a month now. Which is why I started flirting with you.” She tells you and your jaw drops.

“You’ve been flirting with me for a month?” You ask her, completely stunned and she nods.

“How long do you think I’ve been flirting with you for?” She asks.

“For like a week. I mean that’s when I started flirting with you.” You tell her.

“You’ve been flirting with me?” She asks and looks taken aback.

“Ya, I guess unsuccessfully if your reaction is anything to go by.” You tell her and you both start giggling.

“You suck at flirting hon.” She tells you with a smile.

“I know, I literally googled how to flirt with women as a woman cause I have no idea how to flirt.” You admit and she laughs at that.

“You’re adorable but you're right, you have no idea how to flirt.” She tells you and you pout. She then kisses you again and this time you melt into the kiss, unaware of the trio and Barb watching you both from down the hall, all of them with a smile on their face.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

@lilfartbox1

@ricejucie

@unicorniusfallapatorius

@a-queen-and-her-throne

@sleep-deprived-athlete

@og-kxsh-420

@sasheemo

@midnight-lestrange

Let me know if you want to be added!

[siconetribal]

Beyond the Bookshelves (2)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: When you're forced to work in pairs/groups when you don't want to work in pairs/groups, work life, slice of life

Summary: You're a Resource Management Specialist at S.H.I.E.L.D. normally referred to as “The Librarian”. You've been assigned the nightmarish task of digitizing all the physical resources currently owned by the agency, with a few new computers and one extra helper.

A/N: Thank you to all the readers who have loved this story so much already, I did not expect so man tag requests! I'll do my best to live up to your expectations in this story that is pretty much writing itself. If I missed anyone who asked to be tagged, please let me know!

Please comment/like/reblog. If you'd like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know!

The lovely banners used in this fic are from @cafekitsune.

The walk back to the library was longer than usual, but that was because you were now burdened with a task that was nearly impossible to complete with what was at your disposal. Not only was there so little provided, the personnel allotted was the complete opposite of what was necessary. It would have been laughable had it not been so pathetic. You, someone who normally worked with a set number of others, (most of which were virtual) was now forced into a group with two other members whom you have never even properly spoken to.

Loki probably hates me, he has to hate me. The man-person-god-prince-whatever-he-is has never even uttered a word to me until today! You thought back to the very first time you ever met the silent and brooding raven haired Asgardian.

It started off just like any other day, quiet and peaceful. It was just you, the books, and the sun. Though it was a state-of-the-art facility, the library was given a more soothing design with wooden shelving and tables, soft carpeting, comfortable seating of chairs and sofas, table lamps, and desks for laptops and computers to promote productivity and security. There were a few high-tech things, such as the book trolley being robotic and the security measures equal to the rest of the complex; but overall it evoked a sense of tradition.

You were leading the robot trolley filled with books through the shelves, returning items to their proper place, when you heard the chime at the door. Peeking your head out of the aisle, you were awestruck by the handsome young man whom you have never seen before, slowly walking in and looking around in what you could only describe as pure wonder. There was a sparkle of life in those blue eyes and the faintest of smiles tugging at the corners of his lips. Setting the book in hand back on the trolley, you stepped out and gave a big smile.

“Hello, my name is Y/N. I’m the librarian. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You cheerily greeted him, but only received silence in return as he walked further into the room without even a passing glance. There’s no way he didn’t hear me, right? I didn’t shout, but I wasn’t quiet either. He seems to be really excited about the library, so maybe he was too busy looking around? She opened her mouth to let him know she was here to assist if he needed anything, but he was nowhere to be seen. “I guess he really was just that eager.” You muttered to yourself as you finished your task and made your way to the main desk.

Who is he, anyway? He looks oddly familiar, but I just can’t put my finger on it. You dug through your memories, trying to find a name to the face. When it was clear that it was not something that would come to you right away, he let it be for now and tried your best to see if the newcomer was still here. Had it not been for the occasional sightings, you would have sworn your mind was playing tricks on you. When he finally settled on a few books, you waited for him to come to the desk to check out.

“Excuse me, sir!” You shouted after him as he went straight towards the door. His nose was already buried in one book, and two more were under his arm. It was too late. The alarm at the door began ringing, and a female computer voice came through the speakers.

“Please return the books to the library or check them out at the main desk. I repeat, please return the books to the library or check them out at the main desk.” You watched his head snap up and look around for the source of the disembodied voice when holographic floating arrows directed his attention towards you. You gave a slight wave and put on your best welcoming smile once more. He looked down at the books he held briefly before making his way over to the desk.

“I guess you didn’t hear me, I was trying to get your attention before you left. It’s fine, people make that mistake most of them the time when they're busy. May I please see the books?” He held out your hands, but he deposited the stack on to the desk and pushed it towards you. Ok, you pulled them closer. “Your ID as well, please.” You held out your hand once more and the man simply stared at you, bewildered, with scrunched eyebrows and a growing frown. Lifting your lanyard up, you pointed to your pass holder, which held your ID. “Your ID card, the one that gives you access to the various parts of this facility.” The continued silence was deafening as one of his hands slipped into one of his pockets and he pulled out his ID and placed it on the table. “Uh, thank you,” you mumble as you pick up the piece of plastic and tapped it against a panel to the right of your monitor. Loki? You stared at the name for a moment, the gears slowly turning in your head as you scanned the books one by one before handing them and his ID back to him. “You have two weeks to return or extend your borrow time. Please do not damage them or return them late, you will incur some fees if so. Thank you, I hope you enjoy them. If you need any,” you began to strike up conversation once more, but he took the books and left without a word, leaving you to awkwardly watch.

“Talk about intimidating! I had no idea they brought him here!” You let out a heavy sigh and plopped back into your chair. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize him without those big gold horns! Did he really just ignore me, though? Maybe he’s shy? I don’t recall ever hearing him speak, though,” you muttered to yourself, swinging left to right. “He must’ve proven that he’s not dangerous if he’s allowed to be part of the Avenger’s team.” You shrugged and let the topic slide for now. You would give him time to grow accustomed to you…or so you thought.

The encounters that followed were nearly identical to the first. He would come in and completely ignore you, read for hours, check out books, and leave. Not a word came from his lips, and he only ever looked at you with you were not sure whether it was disdain or disgust. At some point, you completely gave up on speaking to him and simply took note of the books he liked. When he would go searching for something of interest, you would set a book that you believed he would enjoy beside the sofa he usually sat. It was clear she chose well, since he would always read and check it out. With all this in mind, you had come to the conclusion he cannot speak for some reason, and you were a rude stranger constantly chattering on to him. Not wanting to spoil his time in the library, you quickly adapted and remained silent in return. 

You dryly laughed at the memories that dropped on you like bricks. You were clearly thinking too highly of yourself, since today you had heard him speak quite clearly. Why would someone remain quiet for so long? After all attempts made to strike up conversation? There was only one valid solution: he hated you. The reason, you were not sure, but it was the only thing that made sense, and that meant you only had one Asgardian to rely on for assistance in your assignment.

Thor can only do so much since he is a main team member and one that is sent out on multiple missions globally. You pinched the bridge of your nose. Even if they forced Loki to assist, he’ll also be sent on various missions as well. I’ll have to wait for them to return every single time because those take priority over what I need to do. Then there’s training for the missions, training to keep working well as a team, meeting, and the press! The work is never going to get done! You wanted to rip your hair out from frustration as you roughly tousled it about and let out a loud groan of frustration once inside your sanctuary, the library. “And this is all if they say yes to helping me out. I doubt Fury is going to demand it, and Agent Hill isn’t going to go out of her way to persuade them. Just forget it, Y/N, fix the report and file it. Then just go on with your day just like you always do.”

“Thor, Loki, thank you for taking the time to meet with me.” Agent Hill greeted the brothers that came into her office.

“Of course we would come. It is not often that you call for anyone other than Stark or Rogers.” Thor gave an amicable smile, while Loki simply took a seat in one of the chairs in front of her desk. “What is it that you wish to discuss with us?” Thor took the seat beside his brother.

“I won’t take much of your time, it is a new assignment that only the two of you can assist us with.” She took her seat once more and faced the two of them. “Director Fury has given a task to our Resources Management department, the lead of which works here at HQ with us. She is the Librarian. I’m sure you have seen her most of all.” She looked towards the younger prince.

Loki kept a passive outwardly expression while his mind quickly tried to pull out the information of this librarian. He was no stranger to meeting a multitude of people, but he was not foolish enough to assume he would be able to memorize everyone’s name and face. He was a prince of Asgard, the only people he needed to know of in detail ere dignitaries and other royals. This librarian was hardly someone he would have considered amongst the two categories.

“So what if I have?” He coolly questioned, unsure of what the agent was trying to get at with all of this. Is this the reason she requested an audience with us the week before? What task could they have possibly given such a department that requires our assistance? I am not some scribe! He wanted to snap at Hill, but he held his tongue. Though he was an Avenger now, he was still not fully trusted by anyone. He knew even Thor had his reservations, but they knew how the Mind Stone worked. They knew he was not lying, but they were clear in stating they did not know him and this chance was only given because of his brother, Thor.

“Well, it will make things easier for us. She needs assistance in translating all of our texts into English. The department needs to create digital copies of all our books and paper resources so that we can access them anywhere and any time. We do not have the means to simply assign large groups to this task, because it would lead to suffering in on ground missions and recon. The both of you have the ability of AllSpeak which can translate anything you say to English. When you are available, please assist the Librarian in translating the various texts to help speed up the process.”

“This is a side request?” Thor asked, wanting to clarify the priority of this.

“Yes, we do not wish for this to hinder any missions you are needed for. We are requesting you head to the library when you have the time to speak with her and set up a tentative schedule so that she can report back to Director Fury by the end of this month. By that time, she will have the necessary equipment as well. If he approves, then we can move forward in starting this task.”

“You want us to dictate books to her? So she can type it up? Do you not have programs that can instantly translate for you?” Loki frowned, crossing his arms in disapproval at this waste of time.

“Though there are plenty of translation software programs out there, none of them are a hundred percent accurate. They may translate directly word for word, which could destroy the concept of the passages. It may attempt to try to understand the concept, but get it completely wrong. Both of you will be able to read the text and understand the context of it, which will help her type a more accurate translation.” Thor loudly hummed as he considered the task. It was not something he was rather fond of, however he wanted to be of assistance if this would help the organization.

“I am to deployed on a mission with Rogers and Stark in a couple of days. I am not certain how long we will be away. Is it possible to extend the time of meeting with the Librarian?” 

“I am to head out with the spider and bird tomorrow evening and return in four days.” Loki added.

“Very well, I will have her look into your schedules and reach out to the both of you.  If it cannot be done together, I will have her meet with you separately. Your missions will always be a priority, and she is well aware of that. Thank you for your assistance, I’ll inform her of this development.” Agent Hill stood from her seat and the two brothers followed, stepping out of her office and making their way towards the common room.

“Have you actually met this Librarian, brother?” Thor was the one to break the silence.

“I have not the faintest clue on whom they are referring to. No one speaks to me in this sterile place, how am I supposed to meet anyone?” He scoffed. Who would want to talk to a monster such as me? “It doesn’t matter, we will meet this woman at some point and better understand this waste of time that we are being dragged into. If you’ll excuse me, I have a debriefing to sit through.” He turned down the hall on their left, leaving Thor with the harsh words of his reality.

Tags: @vbecker10 @huntress-artemiss @softestqueeen @thegodofnotknowing @princess-ofthe-pages @firedrakegirl @rcailleachcola @cabingrlandrandomcrap @lotrefcp @lwtannie @kats72 @kneelingformyloki

[five-and-dimes]

I saw you don’t mind multiple asks on the same thing so here I am shamelessly begging for more of Dead Hearts❤️‍🔥🪦

You are correct! I'm using these asks to bully myself into actually working on these wips, so the more you send, the more I simply MUST work on them ;P

For example, this fic now has an opening scene thanks to you lol

If you had asked Hob thirty seconds earlier, he would have said that he didn’t believe in love at first sight. Even with Eleanor- who Hob still considered the love of his life, even four fears after her passing- it had taken time for them to even properly like each other, let alone declare their love. Their relationship had taken work, and it had been more than worth it, but it had certainly solidified Hob’s belief that ‘love at first sight’ was a myth best reserved for movies and romance novels. But that was thirty seconds ago. That was before he had glanced around the crowded pub and laid eyes on the most stunning man he’d ever seen. Even in the dim lighting his pale skin seemed to glow, accented by his fitted black clothes, and his hair was an artful mess that Hob wanted to run his fingers through. He was sitting in the far corner, probably the quietest spot in the building, with a laptop open in front of him, slim fingers typing away and only pausing to occasionally take a sip from the wine glass beside him. There was a look of intensity in his eyes, laser focused on whatever he was working on, and Hob thought he would do terrible things to get those eyes to look at him like that. All at once, he wanted to know everything about this beautiful man. “I’m in love.” Johanna nearly choked on her drink, “Excuse me?” She raised an eyebrow at him, “Where did that come from? You’re not even seeing anyone,” she reminded him.  “I’m seeing someone now,” he sighed wistfully.  Following his gaze, Johanna gave the man across the room a once over, rolling her eyes as she looked back at Hob, “Oh lord, I know I’m the one who said you need to get laid, but can you at least be normal about it?”

“Absolutely not.” He stands and walks straight for the other man without a second glance at his friend. “Hey!” Johanna calls after him, offended. But Hob isn’t paying attention to her anymore.

[caustinen]

Loving your Hollywood Clegan AU so much!

Curious though...how do they transition when their relationship becomes public? Are there any issues with fan backlash? Or being an openly gay actor? What about the increased paparazzi attention or stalkerish fans? :O

Hello lovely person!! As usual this got a bit long but I hope it answers the question a bit at least 😂💘

To start off with, I usually reimagine my fics in worlds that don’t have homophobia because I personally don’t enjoy writing it/making it a plot point, there’s so much amazing art in all forms dealing with it that it doesn’t feel like trying to erase a very real problem/ignore it because obviously it unfortunately is a big part of queer experience for a lot of people, it’s just that I like to imagine worlds where that isn’t a factor just so there’s also places to escape that, esp in silly fanfiction that I write – that’s what I also enjoy to read as a queer person myself! So while it would definitely give this au a lot of depth, I’m at least not right now including that in these replies <3

As for the other stuff, I have not thought about it a lot even though these should be kinda the main questions for this au… So let’s think about it!

Paparazzi – John dislikes paparazzi as much as anyone but Gale despises them. He finds it a bit invasive but kind of a “part of the job” con for John and later their relationship in the public when it happens when arriving to/leaving events, but when he first catches someone taking his picture while leaving the gym or his office he gets very antsy. This creates some tensions for a bit as John understands his stress but also feels like they talked about it beforehand and now he can’t really do anything about it. When they’re out together and they spot paparazzi John always tries to block Gale from the sight, pull him behind himself or guide them some other way. They love to travel and it’s also easier to avoid being spotted when they’re away from LA/New York. It’s bad for the first few months but eventually the attention on them eases up a bit and they can go back to the new normal with only occasional encounters with the paparazzi; Gale also grows more accustomed to it and knows how to dress to and act to hide & make it a bit less intense.

Fan backlash – I think this would be an interesting thing to explore. Even though a lot of the fans are just happy for John, there are also some who have become too parasocial/illusioned about him after being fans for years (and he is a heartthrob and charming and widely accepted as “boyfriend material”) that they get upset when the relationship is revealed, starting to talk shit on social media about John never having been genuine and has only been lying to his fans meaning he never actually cared about them, and through that getting to insult his work and that they only went to see it because he’s hot but now it’s ruined. John was also shipped with a lot of his previous castmates and some shippers are also upset and saying he “setteled” for Gale who’s “just an ordinary office worker” when he could’ve had a flashy Hollywood Romance – while many see his fiancés shyness and soft-spokeness in public as adorable, some say he doesn’t match John’s vibe at all, and the fact that John also seems different with him is not a good thing and they start to psychoanalyze their relationship. John couldn’t care less for some angry comments on his insta but some of the hate is directed towards Gale, and he’s a bit taken aback when he starts to receive DM’s telling him to leave John immediately and accusing him of manipulating him into a relationship with “someone like him”. John is obviously very upset by all of this but Gale reminds him that he’s seen it all at work and can handle himself.

Stalkers – The other extreme of Gale haters would then be the people who get like way into him real fast, he’s beloved by the masses, sure, but these people are more like a cult (probably of the similar style of fan as the one’s who turn against John in the previous point, like highkey parasocial behavior but when John starts to date publicly it’s like “no, he’s OUR boyfriend” but not in a funny way you know). The line is blurred to some people what it means that John revealed he has a partner, it’s not a ”new part of him” but a real person of his own that happens to be dating their favorite actor, and this gets lost on some people who start to treat him almost like he was Bucky’s pet (idk if this makes any sense but like as if he was just a cute little thing he can post pics about and doesn’t really have an agency of their own AND the fans feel like they ”know him” when they actually know nothing about him except that he’s dating their idol). Gale’s not expecting to get any “fans” of his own, so he’s a bit weary when he’s asked to take pics with people without John or given stuff on red carpets etc, and especially when people really cross boundaries and try to gift him/them like condoma or sex toys or lingerie (I’m thinking of that one interview where they showed Austin his fan merch and there was the thong with his face on it and I’m thinking someone gifting a similar one of Bucky to him and him being absolutely horrified) or something else kinda projecting their own fantasies into them, or playing it off as a joke while it’s actually really distrurbing — just because they’re out doesn’t mean the relationship opened for other people to comment on. Then of course there’s just the usual internet hellhole-stuff, people start sending him really inappropriate messages about his body/looks/what they’d want to do to him given the chance that he maybe didn’t expect because he doesn’t believe John when he tells him that’s like notably attractive. I could also imagine for example a moment where someone approaches them when they’re leaving an event or something and Gale is being professional and polite but the other person is really overstaying their welcome/not following social cues but talking to him like a friend would and when John tries to politely lead them onwards the “fan” grabs Gale’s arm or something and it causes a small scene. Gale is stressed in these situations mostly because he fears how they’ll reflect on John’s image if he’s presented as being rude to fans but luckily these are rare occasions.

Despite all of this, they both are happy that the relationship is public, there are more pros than cons for being able to build their future together without having to be each others dirty little secrets (idk why but it came to my mind now that Gale is so the type that since he couldn’t always tell people he had a partner, everyone would either hit on him or try to match him with someone because “how is someone that pretty single?!” and this would annoy the hell out of Bucky despite him being the one with millions of options at any given moment, i like some jealous bucky :D)

Hope this was satisfactory!! Any more ideas to these scenarios? I’m so used to doing just fluff/smut so this was a fun challenge, thank you! <3

[drewharrisonwriter]

Lifeline - Ch. 4: Restarting

Pairings: Dieter Bravo x Female Reader, referred to as “Honey” 

Series Summary: After basically being dropped and rejected by every PR agency in Hollywood for being such a huge liability, Dieter Bravo must work on resetting his public image in the most unexpected ways.

Author's Notes: I have been working on this fic on and off for the past year, and this story is a little personal to me. Yes, I am trauma dumping in some scenes lol but I also want to say that there will be so many unrealistic things about Hollywood, actors, and PR/Marketing agencies here, to which I apologize.

Warnings: Angst, a little drama, lots of flashbacks. More warnings to come as the story progresses.

Read this on AO3 | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Dieter stepped into the bustling community center, the sound of children’s laughter and clattering art supplies filling the air. The place was alive with energy—kids of all ages crowded around long tables covered in paper, paint, and glue sticks, their eager voices blending into a cheerful chaos. The scent of acrylic paint and the faint undertone of cleaning supplies lingered in the air, grounding Dieter in a reality far removed from the sterile sets and glitzy parties he was used to.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to tamp down the unease simmering in his chest. He felt out of place in his worn jeans and plain black t-shirt, like an imposter stepping into someone else’s life. He’d agreed to this only because Honey had insisted it would be a low-pressure way to start repairing his public image. No cameras, no staged photo-ops—just him, some kids, and a couple of hours where he’d be seen doing something halfway decent. But as he stood there, Dieter couldn’t help but feel like everyone was staring at him, judging him for who he’d become.

A young volunteer approached, a bright smile on her face. She was in her early twenties, with colorful streaks in her hair and paint smudged on her apron. “Hey, you must be Dieter! I’m Sam. Thanks for coming out today—we could definitely use the extra hands.” She gestured to the chaotic tables behind her. “We’re making Mother’s Day cards, so it’s a bit of a mess.”

Dieter forced a smile, trying to match her enthusiasm. “Yeah, sure. No problem. What do you need me to do?”

Sam handed him a stack of blank cards and a box of markers. “You can help the kids decorate these. They’re going all out today—glitter, stickers, the works. It’s kind of fun once you get into it.”

Dieter nodded, glancing at the kids who were already knee-deep in their projects. He could feel eyes on him, a mix of curiosity and recognition that he’d grown accustomed to but never quite learned to embrace. He pulled up a chair at one of the tables, sitting down between two boys who were arguing over a tube of glitter glue.

“Hey, guys,” Dieter said, trying to inject some warmth into his voice. “Mind if I join?”

One of the boys, a freckle-faced kid with a gap-toothed smile, looked up and stared at him for a long moment. “You’re that guy from the movies, right? My dad says you used to be really famous.”

Dieter chuckled awkwardly, unsure how to respond. “Yeah, something like that. You got a name, buddy?”

“Ethan,” the boy said, then pointed to his friend. “And this is Jake. We’re making cards for our moms, but he’s hogging all the good stickers.”

Jake shot Ethan a glare but shoved a handful of glittery heart stickers toward him. “Fine, you big baby.”

Dieter watched the exchange, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. For a moment, it felt almost normal—just another day, just another table. He picked up a marker and started doodling on a blank card, his lines shaky at first but growing more confident as he lost himself in the simple task. The boys chatted beside him, occasionally asking for his opinion on their creations, and Dieter found himself giving advice on which colors looked best or how to draw the perfect smiley face.

Art had always been Dieter’s secret refuge, a talent he rarely showed publicly but took great pride in. He could lose himself in a sketch for hours, finding solace in the simple act of creation. He hadn’t picked up a pen in weeks, maybe longer, and it felt strangely soothing to be doing something that wasn’t for show, just for the sheer joy of it.

Half an hour passed, and Dieter was surprised at how quickly he’d settled into the rhythm of the activity. He helped a girl struggling to cut out a paper flower and showed another kid how to draw a puppy that didn’t look like a potato. It was mundane and messy, but it was real in a way that Dieter hadn’t experienced in a long time. For a brief period, he wasn’t Dieter Bravo, the scandal-ridden actor—he was just a guy helping kids make cards for their moms.

Ethan watched as Dieter drew a quick sketch of a sunflower, his eyes widening with admiration. “Whoa, that’s really cool. You’re good at this.”

Dieter shrugged, trying not to let the compliment go to his head. “Thanks, kid. I’ve been at it a while.”

Ethan leaned closer, his curiosity piqued. “Did you ever think about doing this instead of movies?”

Dieter paused, caught off guard by the question. “Yeah, actually. Once upon a time. But life had other plans.”

The boy nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and went back to gluing glitter onto his card. Dieter watched him, a bittersweet smile on his face, and for the first time in a long while, he felt like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t entirely lost. The world outside could wait; right now, he was doing something that mattered, even if it was just to a group of kids with markers and glitter glue.

–

The weeks that followed Dieter’s first volunteer gig at the community center were a blur of carefully managed appearances, low-profile events, and calculated steps to rebuild his image. Honey had planned every detail meticulously, curating opportunities that would put Dieter in the public eye without overwhelming him—or giving the tabloids more ammunition. Each event was a test of Dieter’s resolve, pushing him to engage without losing control, to be present without falling back into old habits.

One of their first few outings after the community center was at a local soup kitchen. It was an early morning, and Dieter showed up half-awake, a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes and a hoodie that did little to hide his tired demeanor. The kitchen was already buzzing with volunteers, and Dieter felt the familiar pang of self-doubt creep in.

Honey was there, clipboard in hand, already talking to the staff and making sure everything was set. She spotted Dieter and gave him a quick once-over, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Rough night?”

Dieter shrugged, trying to muster a smile. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

Honey handed him an apron, her expression softening just a bit. “Well, let’s keep it together today, alright? The cameras might not be here, but people still talk.”

Dieter nodded, tying the apron around his waist. He spent the next few hours serving meals, exchanging small talk with the other volunteers, and gradually finding his footing in the repetitive tasks. It wasn’t glamorous, but it felt purposeful. Honey watched from the sidelines, her eyes never straying far from Dieter, noting every slip and every small triumph.

As they wrapped up, Honey approached Dieter with a bottle of water. “Not bad today,” she said, her tone approving. “You looked… genuine.”

Dieter took the bottle, unscrewing the cap. “I was trying, you know. Not to screw it up.”

Honey smiled, a small, rare thing. “You didn’t. Let’s keep it that way.”

—

Dieter stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his tie for what felt like the hundredth time. The suit Honey had chosen for him was sharp—classic black, tailored to perfection, and a far cry from the disheveled, carefree style he’d grown accustomed to. He tugged at the collar, feeling the fabric tight around his throat, as if it was trying to choke the confidence out of him. This was the first real event Honey had lined up, and it felt like a test he wasn’t sure he’d pass.

Just as he was about to grab his jacket, Dieter’s phone buzzed with a message from Honey: Be there in ten. No surprises tonight.

Dieter smirked, grabbing his keys and heading out to the lobby to meet her. When he saw her step out of the car, his breath caught in his throat. Honey was stunning in a sleek black dress, simple but elegant, her hair loosely pinned back. She looked every bit the poised, professional woman she’d grown into, but there was something in the way she glanced around that reminded Dieter of the girl she used to be—the one who would wait for him at the stage door with that same mix of nerves and excitement.

As she approached, Dieter gave her an appreciative once-over. “Damn, Honey. You clean up nice.”

Honey rolled her eyes, but there was a faint blush on her cheeks. “I could say the same for you. But remember, we’re here to make an impression.”

Dieter shifted on his feet, suddenly feeling the weight of the night ahead. “About that… I was thinking, maybe you could, you know, be my date.”

Honey raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Dieter, I’m not your date. I’m your PR manager.”

Dieter’s grin turned boyish, the kind that always used to make her laugh. “Not like that. I just meant, you know… for old times’ sake. Make it look good, keep me in line. You’re the only one who knows how to.”

Honey hesitated, the words catching her off guard. There was a softness in Dieter’s eyes that she hadn’t seen in a long time, and it stirred something in her. “This isn’t a date,” she warned, but her voice lacked the usual firmness. “I’m just keeping an eye on you.”

Dieter nodded, his smile never wavering. “Deal. Just keep me from jumping out of my skin.”

As they walked into the venue together, Dieter couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of calm with Honey by his side. The grand ballroom was filled with soft lighting and low chatter, the clinking of champagne glasses mingling with light jazz that played in the background. Dieter’s anxiety spiked as they stepped further in, his gaze darting around at the familiar faces—some friendly, some not. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at his tie again, feeling like the walls were closing in.

Honey noticed immediately, her expression shifting to one of quiet concern. “You okay?”

Dieter shrugged, trying to mask his discomfort. “Yeah, it’s just… a lot. I haven’t been in a room like this in a while.”

Honey nodded, stepping closer and lowering her voice. “Just breathe. You’ve got this. Remember, you’re not here to perform. Just be yourself—well, the best version of that,” she added with a teasing smile.

Dieter let out a breath, her words grounding him. “Yeah, thanks. It’s just… you know, I used to own rooms like this.”

Honey gave him a reassuring smile. “And you will again. Tonight’s just a start. Think of it as practice.”

Dieter laughed softly, her encouragement calming his nerves. They drifted to a quieter corner, sharing light conversation. Honey slipped easily between friend and PR manager, checking in on Dieter’s mood and making small suggestions—“Smile when you’re talking, it reads better,” and “Don’t grip your glass so tight; it makes you look tense.” But there were also moments of genuine connection, where they talked about the little things: the absurdity of the silent auction items, the hilarity of the overly fancy appetizers, and the nostalgia of being in a setting that once felt so natural to Dieter.

“You remember that one movie premiere?” Dieter mused, his eyes distant with memory, when in fact it was just a few weeks ago where he was invited to attend a premiere of a former castmate’s latest movie. “The lights went out and you tripped over the red carpet? You were so mad.”

Honey laughed, covering her mouth. “Oh my God, yes. I was mortified. You just kept telling everyone I was making a dramatic entrance.”

Dieter chuckled, a warm, familiar sound that pulled Honey back into their shared past. “You were. Best part of the night.”

They fell into an easy rhythm, the conversation flowing effortlessly between the past and present. Honey kept Dieter engaged, nudging him to mingle with a few key people, each time offering a subtle nod or smile of encouragement that helped him push through his hesitations. Dieter found himself more at ease, moving through the crowd with a confidence he hadn’t felt in months, buoyed by Honey’s quiet presence beside him.

As the night wound down, Dieter lingered near the exit, Honey by his side. He looked at her, the soft lighting catching the glimmer in her eyes. “This was… nice,” he admitted, his voice lower, almost shy. “It’s been a while since I felt like I wasn’t completely drowning.”

Honey nodded, her expression softening. “You did well tonight. This is just the beginning.”

Dieter hesitated, then took a small step closer. “Hey, why don’t you come over? We could catch up a little. I’ll make coffee. You can chew on all the ice you want.”

Honey laughed lightly but shook her head. “I can’t. I have somewhere I need to be.”

Dieter frowned, a flicker of disappointment flashing in his eyes. “Well, at least let me drop you home.”

Honey opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, a sleek black car pulled up to the curb. A tall, handsome man with a perfectly tailored suit stepped out, his presence commanding but casual. He rounded the car and greeted Honey with a warm smile, wrapping an arm around her in a way that felt both familiar and possessive.

“Phil,” Honey said, her tone brightening as she introduced him. “This is Dieter. Dieter, this is Phil.”

Dieter’s stomach dropped, his earlier confidence evaporating. He forced a smile, shaking Phil’s hand with just a touch too much force. “Nice to meet you,” he managed, though his voice sounded hollow even to his own ears.

Phil grinned, seemingly unaware of Dieter’s internal turmoil. “Likewise. Honey’s told me all about your work together. You’re in good hands.”

Dieter nodded stiffly, feeling the sting of the moment. He watched as Honey and Phil exchanged a look that spoke volumes, one filled with an unspoken history Dieter wasn’t part of. His chest tightened, like he’d taken a punch straight to the gut. He couldn’t help but feel like an outsider in his own story, like he was watching a scene he wasn’t meant to be in.

Honey turned back to Dieter, her smile kind but distant. “I’ll see you Monday, okay? And remember—no parties, no social media… for now.”

Dieter swallowed hard, managing a tight nod. “Yeah. See you.”

He watched as Phil opened the car door for Honey, their laughter mingling with the soft hum of the city night. Dieter stood there, feeling the weight of everything he’d lost and the ache of everything that could never be. As the car pulled away, Dieter’s heart twisted painfully, a mix of jealousy, regret, and something deeper—something that felt like hope slipping further out of reach.

Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[wheredafandomat]

For Better or For Worse

Chapter 1 Next Chapter Series masterlist

Loki x female reader

18+ | this fic will contain adult themes, smut, swearing, angst - I’ll continue to update. Please be aware that there may be triggering themes in future e.g. loss of child. Please do not proceed if you may be triggered.

“Well bloody get on with it.” Loki cursed, his voice echoing through the grand room as he ran his fingers through his hair. There were few things Loki disliked, one of them being having to spend time with his family, more so his brother considering that now he’d never have to see his his father again. Gently patting Lokis shoulder, Rose looked pointedly at Miss Walters who was yet to open the sealed document sitting in front of her.

“Apologies but I’m just waiting for one more person.” She answered, Lokis brows furrowing in confusion as she spoke.

“One more person? What? We’re all the old fools ever known.” Loki scoffed.

“Loki.” Frigga interjected.

“Have I lied?” Loki shrugged.

“Loki.” Thor spoke warningly as Loki continued to ramble.

“Unfortunately I cannot begin as there is another name here.” Miss Walters cut in, the room falling silent.

“Who’s?” Loki ventured.

“Oh apologies for my tardiness.” You spoke, sauntering into the room as Loki stiffened, his jaw clenching.

“Oh you’ve got to be joking.” He murmured.

“Thank you Miss Walters” you smiled at the solicitor before turning to Frigga and making your way to her “Frigga” you beamed, kissing each others cheeks before your attention was stolen by Thor standing to his feet with open arms. Practically running, you jumped into his embrace before kissing his cheek, unaware of Lokis glaring. “Thorr.” You grinned as he put you down before you finally, finally acknowledged Loki. “Loki” you spoke venomously as if the name burned to recall “and you must be his new bed warmer.” You smiled at the woman sitting next to him.

“Excuse me?” Loki spoke for her.

“I’m joking, it’s all in jest” you lied, holding your hand out to her “lovely to meet you.”

“And you are?” She questioned, looking you up and down.

“No one.” Loki answered for you at the same time as you said “his wife. Well, ex wife” you explained “we didn’t quite work out, you see, Loki has a little problem in the bedroom department and he just left me completely unsatisfied and then there’s the greasy hair and the—”

“Alright that’s enough” Loki cut in harshly before quieting his tone “my mothers present y/n and that was one time, only the once.”

“Apologies.” You smiled curtly before taking your seat for the reading of the Will.

You mainly focused on your new manicure as the Will was read considering you didn’t nor were you expecting to hear your name. You assumed anything you would have been left was taken out after the divorce, although, that wouldn’t explain why your name was still there. You focused harder on your nails as Lokis apparent girlfriend rubbed his shoulder reassuringly, occasionally pecking his cheek whenever another asset was left to Thor. You kept trying to keep focus on the expensive art decorating your nails but your eyes kept venturing to Loki. You didn’t know what to expect considering you hadn’t seen him in well over a year but it wasn’t this. He looked eerily the same, it hurt even more that he did. Last night you found yourself almost praying that he looked different, maybe shorter hair, maybe his style had changed, maybe he just carried himself differently but no, no, this was the same Loki, the one you fell in love with, the one you married, the one you lost.

“My final asset, being my estate, is to be left to y/n y/l/n.” Miss Walters read, instantly catching your attention as your eyes flew up to hers.

“W-what?” Loki questioned, outraged as he stood to his feet before turning towards Frigga and Thor. “Mother? Surely he couldn’t have made that Will with sound mind, there must be a way to contest it.” He insisted.

“I’m afraid not.” Miss Walters answered for Frigga.

“This must be a mistake, she” Loki began, pointing at you “she has no claim to this house or this family for that matter.” He continued to argue, mostly to himself as you mouthed a wow before rolling your eyes, trying to hide your own shock. This was the last thing you expected.

After a while, Miss Walters began packing her things to leave whilst you stood and made your way to Frigga who was being very quiet considering everyone else present were all speaking. Pulling up a chair next to her, you reached into your bag.

“I know it’s nothing” you began, handing her a velvet box which she took gratefully, recognising the design before you hugged her properly. “but I thought you’d want it.” You spoke into her shoulder.

“Thank you dear.” She sniffled.

“I am so, so sorry for your loss and I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

“You’re here now. I’ve missed you.” She answered.

“I’ve missed you too.” You agreed. “And Frigga, I don’t plan on selling the estate, don’t feel you need to leave you can stay here.”

“She’s a bitch.” Rose chimed in as Loki watched your interaction with Frigga.

“Mhm.” He hummed in reply, unable to look away from you.

“Let’s go Loki.” Rose insisted, standing infront of him and blocking his view of you.

Once everyone had dispersed, you took it upon yourself to venture up to the east wing where you used to be when you were with Loki. You were unsure how it looked now and whether or not it had changed. You walked up the stairs, each step reminding you of a different memory before you turned down the hallway to the east wing. You smiled as you saw your old bedroom door, a little bit of paint scratched off near the top from when you banged a piece of furniture against it when you moved in. You opened the door, eyes scanning the room as you gasped a little, surprised that it practically looked untouched, the ghost of your memories still haunting the place. You stepped inside, fingers running over the dusty dressing table as your eyes continued scanning the room. When they landed on a photo album, you picked it up before taking your seat on the bed and flicking through the pages. Pictures of you and Loki filled each page almost bringing a tear to your eye as you ran your thumb over one of the glossy pieces of paper. You both looked so happy, you don’t remember the last time you were happy, truly happy.

You’re not sure when you laid down or when your eyes fell closed but the last thing you remembered was sitting on the same bed as you begged Loki not to go, not to leave and the heartbreak and betrayal that followed when he did go. Some memories were better left forgotten.

This gif has nothing to do with the fic it’s just funny to me 😂 - let me know what you’re thinkinggg, I’ve got a couple ideas for some fics so I think I’ll write some first chapters then whichever one gains a lil traction I’ll continue instead of just boring you all with something self indulgent 😂💓

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Tags

@mischief2sarawr @mcufan72 @lokisgoodgirl @lokiprompts @mochie85 @vickie5446 @fictive-sl0th @peaches1958

[aftgficrec]

Fics where Neil gets in a fight and actually wins!! I know it’s more commonly said that he can start fights and not finish them but let’s be for real, the boy was raised by two mafias and is scary as hell (I think i’ve seen someone ask this a while ago but i’m not sure if there’s an updated list) Mainly wondering for like post-canon fics, but au’s are cool too!

There’s quite a bit to discover on this topic, be that AU or in the context of canon.  Of course, Neil rarely comes out of these troubles unscathed, but he wouldn’t be Neil if there wasn’t also a little martyrdom involved.  You might find more on this under our bamf!Neil, butcher!Neil and occasionally raven!Neil tags.  Have a browse, and see if there’s anything you like. - S

Some previous recommendations:

BAMF!Neil here

BAMF!Neil 2 here

BAMF!Neil 3 here

BAMf!Andreil w/happy ending here

badass Neil here

Neil fights and wins here

A dark Neil here

Neil says it's fine i've had worse here

Neil protects Katelyn/the foxes/Andrew here

Foxes find out Neil's not soft here (see list of recs at top of post)

Neil hurts/kills in front of foxes here

new BAMF! or Raven!Neil here

dark!Neil & Andrew here

bad boy Neil here

Neil Josten: Moriyama spy here

Neil kills Nathan here

Killing Eve AU here

‘Skin Comes Apart (Angel in Lothian)’ here

‘Bound for Error’ here

‘turn out the lights’ here (completed)

‘From Dungeons’ here

‘Whiskey Sour’ here

‘Negotiations’ and ‘The Butcher's Hello’ here (updated)

‘Shake my Tomb’ and ‘Appendages’ here

‘The  Butcher’s Son’ here

‘it takes two (but you and i are one)’ here

‘monster (under my bed)’ here

post-canon (more or less):

Out for Blood by Aquared46 [Rated M, 27975 words, complete, 2023, locked]

"Neil’s first thought upon opening his eyes was that he was lucky to be in the trunk of a car instead of the back of a van. His second thought was that even if he survived this, Andrew might finally give into the temptation to kill him." AKA Neil is abducted and everyone has a bad time.

tw: kidnapping, tw: torture, tw: nightmares

born for this by dovegraye [Rated G, 1278 words, complete, 2023]

There are some parts of Nathaniel Abram Wesninski that Neil Abram Josten can’t ignore and refuses to play at trying anymore. This is one of them.

tw: violence

My Lover Writes Me Letters by AceSirenSinger [Rated M, 23018 words, complete, 2023]

He feels it again – the fury, of Neil’s taunting precision, of his expertise honed specifically for Andrew. It makes Andrew furious. Andrew has not felt anything since he woke up with his head on fire, in a room with a man made of compressed violence. *** Andrew loses his memory of the last five years, and forgets Neil. Neil martyrs himself because of course he does.

**tw: threatened rape/noncon between major characters**, tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: blood/gore, tw: referenced animal cruelty and death, tw: vomit, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: murder, tw: implied disordered eating 

five times neil beat the babygirl allegations, plus the one time he didn't by r3mus [Rated T, 7488 words, complete, 2023]

neil will NEVER beat the babygirl allegations in MY heart but, alas, he would probably punch me if i called him babygirl to his face.

tw: violence

Damnation by X0X0HauntedX0X0 [Rated M, 15572 words, incomplete, last updated Jan. 2022]

Unkind and ever familiar, that anger Lola had triggered earlier returned with sharp teeth and without mercy. He would rip his time from their hands by force, like he’d been doing every day since he was born. Lola was clever as the devil, but Neil had been raised through the loopholes. She couldn’t hurt his Foxes if she was dead. Or Neil is much more dangerous than anyone gives him credit for.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: torture, tw: blood/gore, tw: alcohol, tw: drugs

NB: fic art of post-torture Neil by @kazzyboy here

Maybe a Mobster by definitely_not_loki [Rated M, 1558 words, complete, 2022]

Neil Josten had transferred at the beginning of this season, and sure he'd been a nightmare for the team, but not in the "I was raised by a serial killer" kind of way. He was hard on the team—way harder than anyone had been before—and he wasn't even the captain. He was just some rookie striker from South Carolina. Most of the time she forgot he was anything but a rookie striker, but then someone would ask about his scars or call him a different name. Those were the few moments she remembered he wasn't just an asshole. He was an asshole with a past. So when The Event happened, she was terrified, horrified beyond all reason, but she was not surprised. Or, Neil is a badass motherfucker.

tw: violence, tw: blood

Neil has some bad habits. by evelynreads23 [Not Rated, 1068 words, complete, 2022]

Neil learnt things when he was young, how to wield a knife, how to hide a body. He was doing good and not thinking about it until someone was telling him he was a fan of the butcher. He was in a haze afterwards and freaked when Jack was being an asshole. This is Neil going to his roots but staying Neil, protecting Andrew and the foxes and not having fun when his past is brought up. Read at your own risk! :)

tw: violence, tw: blood, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: homophobia, tw: panic attacks

Dart Boards and Knife Fights by clumsylittlewriter [Rated T, 2983 words, complete, 2022]

"As if in sync, both of them dropped down into fighting stances and tensed their muscles. 'I apologize in advance if I end up killing you,' Nathaniel said, his voice dangerously quiet.  Natalie threw her head back and released a sharp peal of laughter, more malicious than anything Andrew had ever heard from her. 'Don’t get cocky, Butcher-boy,' she taunted, her eyes glittering with vicious glee. The Butcher’s smile reappeared on his partner’s face." (a game of darts reminds Andrew that Neil was raised by someone fascinated with knives)

All the masks I've left behind by SagaEllen [Rated T, 1879 words, complete, 2021]

Neil does not cry. Aaron asks for help. And everything is such a mess.

tw: knives, tw: violence

all for his foxes by Olympyas [Not Rated, 2469 words, complete, 2021]

If he wanted to defend his family Neil wouldn't be enough, but someone else would, just this time, just for them. This is how Nathaniel opened the door and managed to stop the knife threw at him. And that was familiar, It even became a reflex by now. They taught him. Lola taught him in a way he wouldn't be able to forget. Lola and Romero come for Neil directly at Palmetto and Neil defends his family.

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: blood, tw: knives

AU:

Dead Ringer by HalloweenReaper [Rated E, 18892 words, incomplete, last updated Nov. 2023]

“Potential.” Riko slammed Neil against the wall again and whirled on Kevin. Kevin stared back at him, white-faced and tense. “You said that goalkeeper had potential and then wrote him off as useless when I offered him to you....” - The Foxhole Court, Ch. 13. Nathaniel was given to Ichirou as his private hitman after his skills as a marksman were revealed when the Moriyama tracked him and his mother down after they ran away. Riko decided to surprise Kevin with matching “pets” after he found out the goalkeeper Kevin was interested in had a twin. When Nathaniel is ordered to join the Ravens for a year to cover for a series of hits, his smart mouth meets Andrew’s prickly attitude and things get interesting.

tw: abuse, tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: animal abuse, tw: panic attacks

Different Roads by frankelled [Rated T, 33944 words, incomplete, last updated Oct. 2023]

Nathaniel became Ichirou's 2nd when he was 10 years old. To protect Nathaniel from becoming a target no one can know, which leaves him in the Nest. When Kevin's hand breaks Nathaniel is in charge of protecting him from Riko, but now in Palmetto

tw: violence, tw: injuries, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: panic attacks

Andrew's Regret by pandaseek [Not Rated, 13860 words, incomplete, last updated Oct. 2023]

“The first three were all former foster parents of Andrew.” Piggins continued, unable to take a hint from the frosty office he’d admitted these things too. “No.” Aaron panicked, staring at Andrew in disbelief. “Andrew has never been…!” Wymack shifted his weight on the filing cabinet, reaching down to grab his trash can and passing it across Andrew in time for Aaron to grab it and spew a cascade of vile liquid into it, while Andrew pushed his chair onto its back legs and avoided all eye contact with those in the cramped office. Andrew knew who did this. The only person who had ever willingly gone to bat for him. A person he had mistakenly believed to be dead long ago; this was proof to the contrary. Except… Except that there was one name missing. - A prompt from Justthislazy, based on my original Lifeline, that I just had to pick up and run with. Thank you for the amazing idea!

tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: implied/referenced csa

Promise, I Can Give You a Reason by maydaykevin [Rated T, 1689 words, complete, 2023]

Something else happens in the fated Millport locker room.

tw: violence

I'm An Accountant by boomba77 [Not Rated, 24101 words, incomplete, last updated Oct. 2023]

Abram Hatford is an accountant. A legitimate accountant. He may work for an infamous crime family, but his hands have been clean for years (of blood, at least). He is a translator and an accountant. He flies under the radar, his existence hidden from the public by his family, and he prefers it that way. For him, the words ‘safe’ and ‘unknown’ are synonymous. So, when one of the Hatford empire’s more lucrative businesses begins stirring up the wrong kind of attention and losing money as a result, the Hatfords require discretion and brains. Their elusive Abram is the only person for the job. Andrew Minyard is a part-time server at a random diner and a part-time bartender at The Den, where he spends most of his time drinking what he’s supposed to be serving. It isn’t until strange things start happening around the club that Andrew decides to pay a bit more attention to the shady shit going on at his work. And then, when a stranger shows up looking for work with a perfect resume and a symmetrical face, Andrew finds his suspicion, and his interest, double. All of the death and destruction is bad, sure, but at least it’s interesting. OR Waiting for death is not living.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: dissociation, tw: nightmares, tw: panic attacks, tw: scars

Rheostat by NeilfuckingJosten [Rated M, 14315 words, incomplete, last updated Aug 2023]

Nathaniel Wesninski, alias Neil Josten is finally out of the Nest and into the world of professional exy. Deadly, smart and worse than his father, Nathaniel will bring a storm into Andrew's quiet world. AKA, they meet in the pro's.

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced abuse

I Was Ruined From The Start by BrokenPineTree [Rated M, 39021 words, incomplete, last updated April 2023]

Neil’s grin is audible as he replies. "Riko’s antics getting outed to the public would make him a liability. And I do remember telling you that threats need to be dealt with accordingly." Kevin's stomach lurches into his throat with the conclusions he jumps to. "So, you’re gonna go back to the Nest?" He asks quietly. Slowly. Unsure how to feel about Neil putting himself in that situation again. He can't do that, right? He has other things to worry about now. Neil hums disapprovingly. "Try again," He offers. Kevin does. "You're... coming to Palmetto?" The au where Kevin doesn't have full confidence in Andrew's ability to stand between him and his lurking demons after only spending a few months at Palmetto. But with the dangerous card itching to emerge from under his sleeve, does he really need to?

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: nonconsensual drug use, tw: panic attacks

True Crime by mostly_maudlin [Rated T, 1789 words, complete, 2022]

All Andrew needed was the WiFi password.

tumblr posts:

Neil Does Not Like when people mess with his people. by @hmmm-shesucks [tumblr, 2023]

Whenever any of the foxes are slightly inconvenienced by someone enough to complain about them, Neil always asks, “Do you want me to take care of it?”

tw: implied/referenced violence

Neil gets in a fight by @hmmm-shesucks [tumblr, 2023]

Neil gets in a fight on the court and it’s one of those where gloves are dropped and helmets are thrown and the punches are quick and hard.

tw: blood, tw: violence 

Neil is dangerous and Aaron knows it hc by @thefoxholestuff [tumblr, 2021]

I love the idea of Neil being the really dangerous one rather than Andrew and the Foxes all being Shook and Andrew being a gay disaster over it

Part 2 - an expansion 

here’s an expansion of my Neil-is-dangerous-and-Aaron-knows-it post,

one night the foxes are at edens and some guy starts to harass Andrew hc by @zipperuser103 [tumblr, 2021]

I know that Neil “starts fights that he can’t finish”, but I refuse to believe that he has no fighting skills at all.

tw: violence

Art

bamf!Neil  by @emry-stars-art

(Feat. BAMF? Assassin? Secret Agent? Neil) by @baylecn

Good boy, junior by @jayjuls

Killer In The Mirror by @allfortheslay25

Killing Eve AU by @rainbowd00dles

Wesninski looks good on you by @ouijacine

[dozing-marshmallow]

Hello omg i LOVED your yandere fics so much! Is it alright to request for more yandere Chris content? Not really sure abt on what but probably with a reader whos a part of the show/after the money?? Or anything you would like or see fitting really!

HI THERE!! Thank you so much, and of course it’s alright! I appreciate that you love my (yandere) posts! 😊💗 I hope it’s no different with this one!

YANDERE!CHRIS MCLEAN HEADCANONS (PART 2)

“(Y/N)... You...really mean a lot to me, you know that, don’t you, (Y/N)?” his mad eyes thumping pink, over you.

You sigh,“I do, Chris...I do.”

Another beautiful day. One more to spend alone with him again.

Earlier on, he stripped you of all your possessions, your clothes, your phone, your dignity.

Yep.

Going behind your vulnerability, sitting on his bed, your back on his chest, his arms around your stomach, he kisses your neck.

His hair could scratch you for hours. His hands that trapped you could move up and down for days. You want out.

You want out.

You hate yourself for being born. Was this what you were made for? For this sadistic reality show host to leave as many hickeys as he wanted on the skin you worked hard to keep healthy?

Healthy... The grass is stepped on everyday, yet can still stand high.

That’s why you’re not permanently confined to the suffocating indoors. You were given chances to go outside on the beach and take a breath of anything else other than Chris. He never needed to worry- he lived on a literal island with surveillance cameras situated everywhere.

He never needed to worry.

Chris’d only give you suitable clothes if he had arranged a place to go with you, a date, a trip.

Just when you were feeling you had a belonging again, Chris would take the outfit off you the second you got back to his home, locking himself up in the bathroom and staying in there for a while.

He’d grunt your name and sigh really loudly.

The only thing more you wanted to add was that when he did come out, he’d be clutching the garments, face all red and drool from more places than one.

Yuck.

On special days, he put a collar on you. A shock collar.

No particular reason.

Just to zap life into you.

And laugh.

Of course, he still had his job to attend to after forcing you out of yours so he would keep something of you to compromise the work separation.

Not a photo. Anyone could get a photo of you.

That’s why Chris prefers paintings to hang, and small statues to greet. 

Now that couldn’t be found anywhere else.

Not one museum, one art gallery, one household.

Speaking of household...

With the phone he confiscated from you, he’d occasionally have it on his person to play any voicemails they left you, sneering, chuckling at your attempt to hold onto the cliff.

“Come back, (Y/N).”

“We’re all waiting for you.”

“Where are you, my baby?”

Understandably, you let go. You wished you didn’t, not in front of a monster like Chris who only chortled at you.

You want to go home.

“If they wanted you to come back, they would.” he slides down next to you. You never knew if he purposely fed off your pain, or if he was that socially deaf,“All they can do is play helpless and hope for a miracle. Because that’s what they want to do.“ he affirms, taking your crumpled, wet face into his hand, the other strokes the side,“See how no one really cares about you, asides from me? I’m the only one that can see how much gold you are. You may be all to me, but I’m guessing your family is all to you, even if they’re worthless. All of them. See how kind I am, (Y/N)? I’m not a monster after all! A real monster would never have let you hear their voices again. Don’t you just love a family guy?”

You wanted to reject everything he said. Reject that hand, his remarks, the love.

But you’re too tired.

It was gonna end the same anyway.

You’re forced to use the same toothbrush as him.

Not even a warm bath bubbled a smile.

In soap waters, he’d still hold you in his slippery arms as his head goes back on the edge of the tub.

You’ve seen his body over and over.

He’s seen yours over and over.

Purple and purple.

Less than human.

A party hat strings around your jaw.

Chris blows the party horn and cuts the cake.

You also share a plate.

...And a mouth.

A celebration? Ah, right. 

Commemorating the year that dripped since he took your happiness.

For his.

[silverskye13]

poetry advice? I write songs, not the same thing, but close enough. I really admire what I've seen you write, and I know poetry is pretty much a "go for anything" field, but I tend to get stuck when transitioning topics. I don't know, just thought I might throw it out there?

Bonus: favorite piece of poetry you've written?

(Good luck with your... 700+ asks?)

Oh oof, I can try to give poetry advice? I'm going to be honest, poetry is a place I'm very insecure. I write it for myself, for a few select individuals, and occasionally as a larger part of art/fic pieces.

I think my best advice would be: read a lot of it. Which I feel like is advice I give to a lot of people about a lot of things, but part of learning is consuming. Read it and look at it critically, collect the things you like and analyze why.

Also, poetry more than anything, I would say, don't delete anything, even stuff you really hate in the moment. Toss it in a scraps document, where you can search for it later. A lot of poetry is curation. It's writing an idea over and over and picking better, more succinct or impactful words, figuring out better alliteration, reworking for a better rhyme. But those discarded phrases might be a jumping off point for a future project, or something that strikes you as tired or rote for one topic might be amazing for another.

Favorite piece of poetry I've written. Ahm. Hm. Well. I'll toss it under the cut since it's long. For this poem, I was experimenting with the idea of continual flow: In poetry, punctuation, not sentence/stanza break, denotes where the reader is supposed to rest a sentence. I wanted to mess with the idea that the poem is a long run on sentence, with no rhymes, that has roughly 6-8 syllables per line, with a sudden stop when the only punctuation finally happens. It took some doing [and it still doesn't flow nearly as smoothly as I'd like] but it manages the sudden stop at the end very well.

Sprinter

I write poetry at a sprint it feels like mania where it swells up inside and it runs and runs like a sentence you can’t breathe through and I was told once punctuation is important but to breathe is to rest and to rest is to end and don’t they know a full stop is exactly that don’t they know a question does not answer and the mark that denotes its purpose is discordant don't they know that to end is to end is to end and you cannot stop you cannot breathe because we are sprinting through every moment we are running to meet an end and every moment is precious but every moment is fleeting and the beautiful wonderful amazing things are but glimpses yet the sadness lingers and its just a moment in time but it lasts forever but forever is shorter than it looks and the horizon stretches but its the edge of the world and don't they know the world isn’t flat but there is a line on a machine and it beeps in mountains and valleys and it screams when it plains don’t you know that I’m sprinting because life is like a box of chocolates it rots.

[antebunny]

my brother: antebunny likes DC comics now, right? i know just what to get

my brother:

guys i don’t know if i can get through this 😭

i don’t even like most of the art styles in this collection!

ok on a positive note: I’ve been reading the Nightwing Leaping into the Light series and I absolutely love it. The author is pro-Batfam and doesn’t hate women which is all I’m really asking for. The art is soooo gorgeous. It has neon city nightlife which is my jam, and the action scenes are so vivid.

I love these full-page spreads! There’s so much to read! They really use the art to tell a story while the dialogue is doing its own thing. Some of Dick’s acrobatics are great, some are ???? but the action is always great. In Vol. 1 Dick has a fight scene with Tim against some goons, which I love because ✨batbros✨

It also has a lot of side characters, so I am occasionally blindsided by an allusion to another character’s arc. That’s one thing that I noticed is missing from the average fandom portrayal of Dick: the guy has a lot of friends. Like goddamn there are so many people looking out for this guy. Being able to make and keep so many friends is basically a superpower so every Dick-centric fic I read now where he has no friends feels like an Alternate Universe - No Powers fic lol.

I also recommend Fear State for Batfam enjoyers. It has a team-up with Dick, Tim, and the Batgirls, a little bit of original dynamic duo, and a Dick and Jason team-up. I’ve seen a lot of panels from it floating around Tumblr.

[ivansbadart]

Welcome 🕊️

Hi I’m Ivan, in my spare time I like making cringe fics and drawing here and there. Located in Germany/Switzerland.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

My blog:

My tumblr is the main source for my art. This is where I upload all of it. (Way too long captions and tags included!)

I mostly draw fanworks, but you might find the occasional original too. My main fandom is all things asoiaf.

My ask box is open 💌

(This is a sideblog, my main is itsivan!)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

My writing:

ao3 › itsivan

Be warned that I mostly write darker themes, and it does contrast my bright pastel drawings! Be sure to read tags, warnings and AN for specifics. (Some highlights beneath the cut!)

Originals › Soon, soon, just be patient with me.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

For yapping, updates, snippets, and short form posts:

bluesky › itsivank

Quite new on there, but really enjoying it so far! Will definitely do the bulk of that over there.

twitter › IvansBadArt

While I do check my twitter, I’m really trying to spend less time on there, considering how it’s been in recent years.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

› Some of my fics I’d like to highlight beneath the cut:

Our Blue Hours – Ghost/König, codmwii. Seems like a crackpairing but I promise it’s my favourite thing I’ve written so far. The story is deeply personal to me and deals with topics of identity, shame, and moving on. Can be read without prior knowledge of lore and characters.

We Both Know The String Is Always Ready – Daemond, hotd. Considering I usually dislike modern au it’s a surprise I ever wrote this and it became a favourite. Explores themes of dysfunctional family dynamics, hopelessness. I’d say it’s a short tragedy. Reads almost like an original work and doesn’t require prior knowledge of lore or characters.

The Ruins Of The Day, Painted With A Scar – Daemond, hotd. My most popular fic, not my favourite though, far from it actually. I do plan on overhauling this. I don’t recommend reading this without having seen season 1 at least.

[aaaaaa-musical-trash]

i thought it was time for a new intro post!

(UPDATE I MADE A CARRD IT IS VERY PRETTY https://thesquips0ng.carrd.co/#)

hi, i’m allie

very very multifandom

feel free to tag me in reblog games/include me in ask games! i love those

DISCLAIMER: if you send me asks related to fundraising, i will not be able to donate to your cause, regardless of what it is and i won’t put it on my blog unless you are vetted, as i can’t be sure of validity

i have two sideblogs, @musical-spam and @songs-summarised

personal tags i use:

art: #aaaaaart

writing: #wriiiiiting

fic recs: #allie’s fic recssssss

asks: #allie answers askssssss

book posting: #allie reaaaaaads

game posting: #allie plays gaaaaaames

non-fandom stuff: #allie is taaaaaalking

my interests change a lot but some things i’ll be eternally into are:

-musicals!

my musical obsessions are the fastest to come and go, but probably expect falsettos, be more chill, 35mm and a lot of others

along with the musical theatre obsession comes the mandatory 20+ hour playlist so here it is

-animated shows!

i love love love the owl house and dead end paranormal park!! also helluva boss and hazbin hotel, but more helluva than hazbin

-tv shows!

DEAD BOY DETECTIVES

that’s it

-other things!

a rotating cast of video games, i don’t post about them much though

trying to get into fiction podcasts probably expect a bit of that, but DEFINITELY the penumbra podcast i love that shit

an occasional enjoyer of webtoons

other other things i love are PJO, HOO and TOA, greek mythology, books in general, ancient history and geology

and i write sometimes! i’m gonna put the links to my fics here now

the violet hour roleswap AU:

the penumbra podcast roleswap au:

edit: oh oh oh i just remembered to do this

so if you’ve seen @sondheim-girly’s intro post you can see that they have a list of their musicals

well i also have that but i never showed you guys so now here it is! this is basically a list of musicals i may make posts about, i will forget to update it

(in order of when i finished it)

The Greatest Showman

Hamilton

Beetlejuice

Into the Woods

Six

Legally Blonde

Imaginary

Be More Chill

Mean Girls

Dear Evan Hansen

Les Miserables

Heathers

The Lightning Thief: The Musical

Ride The Cyclone

Hadestown

Falsettos

Some Like It Hot

Little Shop of Horrors

Come From Away

Avenue Q

Charlie And The Chocolate Factory

Something Rotten!

We Are The Tigers

The Prom

Spring Awakening

35MM: A Musical Exhibition

A New Brain

Moulin Rouge!

Newsies

The Violet Hour

Sweeney Todd

Company

The Last Five Years

A Killer Party

Carrie

Waitress

A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder

Merrily We Roll Along

Goosebumps

Book of Mormon

& Juliet

The Sound of Music

School of Rock

In The Light

Hedwig And The Angry Inch

The Great Gatsby

The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals

A Chorus Line

A Commercial Jingle For Regina Comet

Anything Goes

The Phantom of the Opera

In the Heights

Bare: A Pop Opera

Mamma Mia!

Spamalot

[crystallizedkingdoms]

The Twins pt. 1

Can a twin be forged, not birthed? Johann and Kravitz meet in a practice room. A spark lights a flame.

wc: 4,822

The Birds for this fic are: Johann & Kravitz (Twins), Sloane (Lover), Hurley (Protector), Maureen (Lonely Journal Keeper), Keats (Peacemaker), Boyland (Wordless One)

day 1 of @johann-appreciation-week! this can also be read on ao3. art by @avijohann

“Thank you for your attention, guy-at-the-door.”

The man peeking into the practice room tries to shrink back from Johann’s gaze, but upon a brief pause, simply sighs instead. He pushes past the heavy door, and it’s now that Johann can see the man in full. He’s tall, with long, black locs pulled into a loose bun. His dark eyes scan the scenery: Johann, sitting alone in the practice room, still holding his violin in position. 

Johann doesn’t move from his position as the man awkwardly stands in front of the entrance now. “You know, it’s rude to stare and not even applaud after a performance,” he jokes, tone flat and sarcastic as it usually is.

“Oh, um. Sorry?” the man says. He starts to clap, but it’s really quiet and just a touch too slow, so it’s kind of worse than the silence.

Johann scrunches up his nose and shakes his head. “No, no. I was kidding,” he says as he lets his violin and its bow rest in his hands. “Who are you?”

The man drops his hands by his sides, and Johann recognizes a distinct fidget his fingers do. “The name’s Kravitz. I heard you playing on my way out of here and I couldn’t help but listen in. Apologies if I disrupted you, really, I can be on my way,” he says. His attention darts towards the door, but eventually it settles back down on Johann.

“Oh, come on, man. I’m not going to kick out a fan. Ha ha. That was a joke, too,” Johann reassures. He puts his violin into its case, which rests on a nearby chair. “Kravitz. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too… uh…”

Right. Duh. “Oh. Johann. The name’s Johann.”

“Great to put a name to the musician,” Kravitz muses. “Really, what marvellous stuff. Easily the best out of what I was hearing down the hall. I suppose you are studying music, then?” He walks closer to Johann as he speaks, and that fidgeting stops when he stands almost right in front of Johann.

“Yup. Got that one down pretty quick.” Johann looks Kravitz up and down without even trying to disguise that fact. “You seem to have a good ear for music yourself. Are you also majoring in music? I don’t think I have ever seen you around here before,” he says. 

“Ah. Well, no, I am not. My friend Keats has siblings who perform here occasionally, so I just came from attending a session with them,” Kravitz quickly clears up. He sits down on the chair next to Johann that doesn’t have his violin. He’s smiling now, with that awfully tense expression finally seeming to ebb away. “I’m planning to go into astrophysics, you see. Hopefully even break in on some of that budding planar research field.”

Johann blinks. Like, he blinks really slow. “Astrophysics? You?”

“What is that supposed to mean?!” Kravitz asked with a defensive voice that has certainly been used far too often. “We just met. You don’t know me at all.”

Johann looks over Kravitz again. They wear somewhat similar clothing, with too many layers and a lot of accessories. Whereas Johann’s clothing is much more colourful, almost comically so, Kravitz’s layers are all an incredible black. His accessories, focused on skulls and space alike, are the only thing on him that betray any colour. “You look like you could fit right in my friend group. That’s all.”

“And you’re not friends with any astrophysics enthusiasts.”

Johann shrugs. “Not currently. It’s only my second year here.”

Kravitz shakes his head and laughs under his breath. “It’s not like astrophysics enthusiasts have a look,” he insists. “I look like an astrophysicist because I am one. Got that, Johann?”

“You aren’t one. Yet. Unless you’re somehow my senior?”

“…Caught me there, I’m afraid. This is just my first year.”

“Oh, a new guy. How cute. How’s it been so far?”

Kravitz starts to bite his cheek. “It’s been… Well, I’m sure you must know it’s not the easiest thing in the world,” he says. He crosses his legs and scratches his neck. “But I have been enjoying it so far. Really. Wow. What a nice place. And I certainly haven’t been struggling, hah, I’ve been doing pretty well since I’ve got here.”

“You’re just a bit lonely,” Johann frowns.

“Yes, exactly, you get it— Wait. No. Absolutely not. How did you know?”

Johann looks at Kravitz and their gaze makes contact. They hold it for a bit, looking into their eyes for some kind of… understanding? Johann feels the search going on between them and he breaks it far too soon. “I just know. It’s not a unique feeling or anything. Many students go through that,” he mutters under his breath. “You’re not the first person on this planet to be lonely, Kravitz.”

Though Johann is not staring back at Kravitz’s face, he gets the feeling that glance-away is not reciprocated on Kravitz’s part. “Right. Of course. Forgive my wallowing,” he apologies.

“No, that’s not what I meant. That’s supposed to be a comfort, not a judgment.”

“You’re awfully adept at comforting people.”

“Comforting strangers.”

Kravitz clicks his tongue loud enough to echo across the room, which is weird, since it’s not a huge or empty room. “We don’t have to be strangers,” he says.

Johann can’t help but let out a huff out of his nose. A simple laugh. “Do you make all your friends like that?” he asks. “Or are you just particularly good with me?”

“Mix of both, I think. I’m not terrible at meeting people, but this feels… I don’t know. Easy?”

That comment makes Johann’s eyes widen. Me? Easy? he thinks to himself in awe. “That’s… wow. I usually hear the opposite,” he confesses. His hands fidget with the cuffs of his sleeves, though part of him wonders if this sudden fidgeting is going to make Kravitz rethink those words. The other part of him, the one he wears in front of Kravitz right now, says no, come on, just give it a chance.

“I’m not sure how to put it into words. You just seem familiar to me.” Kravitz’s gaze leaves Johann’s face (finally, Johann breathes a sigh of relief) and moves down to the violin on the other chair. “We have similar interests, even if we’re not in the same program. And you’re a breath of fresh air compared to my pal Keats’s group, if I must be totally honest.”

Johann looks back at Kravitz, and he sees that he’s still looking at the violin, a soft grin on his face. One look at that face, how he studies the violin with such silent admiration, and Johann gets it. “Hm. Fine, you win,” he throws up his hands in the air as if he’s been defeated. “Only because you seem cool. You can come see me around this room at this same time. It’s practically my dorm at this point.”

Kravitz shifts in his seat and straightens out his back when Johann says that. “Oh, uh, okay. Sounds great. How about a number, too? Just, you know, to keep in touch,” he offers.

“I don’t like giving my phone number out to people I just met,” Johann says. “What’s my violin made out of?”

“What an insane question. Why do you ask?”

“You’ve been staring at it. That means it caught your attention. You look like you’re big on musical instruments and what makes them look good. So, tell me, what’s my violin made of?”

“Well, that’s obvious. It’s rosewood. Real rosewood, not mahogany marketed as rosewood. Couldn’t stick with just ebony, huh?” Kravitz says. That last part sounds almost like a tease. Someone’s getting comfortable, Johann notes to himself. Good.

“Okay, you win. Again. I’ll give you my number.”

“That was a test? Seriously?” Kravitz asks. He has a baffled expression, eyebrows knitted together paired with a terribly awkward smile. Johann’s never been too great at reading people’s individual emotions— crowds are far easier to understand when you’re a musician— but he picks out something he can’t help but get excited over: amusement.

Johann almost forgets to answer Kravitz, but he eventually comes to his senses. “Oh. Uh, yeah. It was a test. Just wanted to know my number was in good hands with good taste,” he admits.

Kravitz rolls his eyes. “Johann, you…” he starts, then starts digging into one of his pockets to pull out his phone, “you are very intriguing, I have to give you that.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told. Now, my number is…”

The two exchange their phone numbers with smiles on their faces. For the first time in a long while, Johann leaves the social interaction thinking hey, that actually went pretty well.

—

“So you’re, like, actually chill with death?”

Johann is draped on Kravitz’s dorm bed, his drink nearly empty as it balances between his fingers. The question shocks Kravitz; they’ve known each other for over a year now. Did drinking somehow make Johann an even sadder man than he already is?

“Why the sudden question?” Kravitz asks. His own drink is nearing its end as well, though he holds onto his glass in a safer way than Johann.

“All the skulls. And bones,” Johann sighs. “On your clothes, around your room. It always struck out to me, duh, but right now they just seem… I don’t know. More noticeable. And it’s—” Johann hiccups hard and loud, and Kravitz snorts, “it’s got me thinking. You are really chill with having all this stuff. Why?”

Kravitz thinks over Johann’s words. He tries not to fill the moment with silence, instead opting to tap his fingers along his glass. “Why not?” he eventually lands on. “Death is a fact of life. We’re all heading towards it. I don’t see what’s so special about that.”

Johann does not extend the same courtesy. He lays in silence, his eyes fixated on the dorm room ceiling. Kravitz can practically feel the rustle of his sleeve, that little nervous tic Johann has when he’s thinking about something hard. Kravitz taps his glass faster to make up for it. You really ought to voice your thoughts as they are happening, you know, Kravitz thinks, but he doesn’t actually tell Johann that. He just keeps tapping.

“You just seem to… I don’t know. Like it?” Johann mutters. There’s a strange tone in his voice that Kravitz cannot recall ever hearing from him. Is it… bitterness? “You cover yourself with it. Death cloaks you. How can you enjoy it? How do you let it define you like this?”

Kravitz narrows his eyes at Johann up on his bed. The floor suddenly feels a lot colder than before. “Is that such a bad thing? You love music. You love to let it define you. Why can’t I have something similar?” he asks.

Johann groans and dexterously takes a sip of his drink while laying down, miraculously not spilling anything. “See, that’s the thing. I study music. I’ve lived my whole life around it and I am now studying it. It’s who I am. You like music, but that’s not what you study. You study astrophysics bullshit, but you don’t seem to really… care? At least not in the way you like music. Absolutely not in the way you enthuse about all… this,” Johann makes a big grand gesture at Kravitz’s dorm. Bleached skulls and bones blend to Kravitz, but oh, how they stare at Johann.

Kravitz opens his mouth to speak some answer, but Johann interrupts. He sighs, “I guess I don’t really get it because we’re so similar. We have a lot of things in common. I still think about how we met. You seemed just like me— you got me. You liked my music, you talked like me, you knew the same things I knew. And over this past year you’ve visited me in the practice room every day. You made me talk to Keats and the twins, you helped me make friends of my own, but they don’t act like you do. Like we do.

“But then you have this. You’re so happy with death. You’ve talked about how it’s fascinated you and how this taxidermy stuff has been a hobby and it makes your eyes light up in ways that only music seems to rival. It’s a big part of you and your life and what makes you you and not me and it makes me look fucking stupid because I— I’m scared of death, I-I hate—”

Kravitz stands up from his floor and stumbles over to Johann in a hurry. “Hey, Johann, you’re freaking out. Come on, you really don’t have to talk about this if it makes you feel this way,” he tries to comfort his friend. He looks down at Johann and his heart twists when he sees tears swelling in the corner of his wide, fearful eyes. It happens so quickly that Kravitz does not know what to do when he sees Johann like this.

“No, stop, don’t. I’m fine, this happens,” Johann reassures. He wipes the coming tears off of his eyes and sits up on the bed. He doesn’t forget to place the now-empty glass on the nightstand beside the bed. “This topic puts me in… a mood. And the drinks don’t help. Forget it.”

Kravitz looks down at Johann and lets out a quiet hum. “No, I don’t think I’ll forget it. If we want to be close, sad, drunk conversations are the way to do it, no?” he asks. He doesn’t wait for Johann’s response before he sits right beside Johann on his bed. “You want to know what I think about what you said?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you’re going to hear it. Tough luck,” Kravitz says. Johann rolls his eyes. “Look. We are similar. We’re friends. You were there for me in my first year when I only had Keats and his siblings. We share a lot of stuff, that is true. And I cherish that, truly. But that doesn’t mean we are the same. You are right, we have differences that keep me being me and you being you. That includes my… fascination, let’s call it that. That also includes how I decide to spend my life, what I focus on in my studies, and what I want to pursue in the future.

“Music is my hobby. My fascination is just that. Neither of those things, though they bring such joy to my life, and even if I had considered going into one of them as a career, just… can’t be what I do. I can’t put my life into music. And that’s what I find utterly fascinating about you, Johann. How you can go into a career so incredibly vast and expanding, yet with so little success in general. That is commendable, it truly is. But that is not something I can do, unfortunately. I could never be a bard.”

Johann eyes Kravitz up and down, and Kravitz instinctively does the same. It’s hard to look at Johann when he’s like this, when he’s sadder than usual and looking so defeated. When he doesn’t say, Kravitz sighs and scratches the back of his neck. “I enjoy what we have. I cherish the fact that we’re friends. We don’t have to be the same person to be friends. I think that’s how it usually goes, actually. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Johann answers faster than he has been answering in his drunken stupor, saying, “Yeah. Yeah, man, it is. Thanks, Krav.” His eyes move down to look at his own lap instead, a sheepish expression on his face. The tears don’t seem to be swelling as much, but a few drops fall down his cheek. Johann wipes it away as soon as he feels them get closer to his jaw. “Can I ask something, though?”

“Of course.”

“What do you think happens after we die?”

“Like… the astral plane or—”

“I mean… not really. I mean this world. Us. Who we were. Is it all just… gone?”

The question leaves Kravitz shifting in his bed. The question itself is not uncomfortable— he’s grappled with it many times, of course he has his answer remembered like the back of his hand— but what unnerves him is the pain in Johann’s voice. It is quiet in a way that Kravitz hates hearing from Johann, a soft tone that feels far too cynical even for him. 

But Kravitz is not one to lie, even now. “I think that depends on what we did in life,” he says. “The greats have a legacy. History is shaped by them. The rest of us are certainly not unimportant, our families may know us for many generations. But, you know. It’s kind of undeniable that most of us will slip through the cracks of time.”

“I really cannot bear the thought of that happening to me,” Johann says. “I know how that sounds. But I don’t care. The thought of it, it…”

“Then don’t bear it,” Kravitz insists. Johann looks up at him, a look of shock etched into his face, with an underlying exhaustion just underneath the surface. “You don’t have to bear it, Johann.”

The intriguing musician who had a fascinating way of introducing himself is no longer in front of Kravitz. What Kravitz sees instead is a small, terrified half-elf with tired brown eyes and a fidgeting hand. His question, blunt as always, staked its claim on Kravitz’s heart. It would seem that his answer has done the same to Johann. “…Thanks,” Johann whispers. It is meek, but Kravitz knows how genuine it is.

For the first time in a long while, Kravitz looks down at someone and thinks, I’m glad he’s with me.

—

“I’m not a fucking scientist. Why do you want me to join the Institute?” Johann asks. He’s surprised by the offense  in his own words, but he does not do anything to pretend it isn’t there.

“The Institute of Planar Research and Exploration isn’t just scientists, you know?” Kravitz explains. His voice is delicate in trying to help Johann understand his proposal, awkwardly glancing side-to-side in the café they sit in. “They’ve accepted wizards since forever. And they recently started creating opportunities for sorcerers and bards to join their retinue. You were the best bard in your graduating class, one of the best in our school’s history. I’m sure they would love to have you on.”

Johann laughs openly, a sound that only Kravitz has had the privilege to hear. Even after their respective graduations, the two of them have remained inseparable over the years. In fact, even closer than ever: they live together in one apartment, they eat together, they play games, and they support one another. And, apparently, they help each other find jobs that are wildly out of their league.

“Wow, how inclusive,” Johann says, sarcasm dripping off his tongue. “I get to be the bard diversity hire. That doesn’t know shit about space-fuck. Awesome.”

“Come on, Johann, don’t be a loser.”

“I’m not being a loser! I just didn’t study planar physics. I didn’t even study astrophysics. I don’t even think I can do math anymore.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I had to count on my fingers while I paid for this stupid fucking coffee.”

“Okay, well,” Kravitz fails to hold in his laugh, and it shoots out of him so quickly that Johann can’t whine about it before he continues, “That doesn’t matter. You can cast a mean spell, Johann. You can command an audience that no one in that building could probably even come close to. I really think you can do well in that place, even if it’s not any scientific research.”

Johann shrugs his shoulders and looks off to the window of the café they sit in. “I don’t not believe you. I’m sure you nerds need a bard in your life,” he says. Indifference may be the word that most people would identify in Johann’s tone, but Kravitz feels something a little deeper than that. “I am just… not very sure why you are coming to me about it.”

Kravitz swallows his drink thickly. He hesitates too long to say anything, and Johann notices that hesitance immediately. “It’s a good opportunity for you,” Kravitz starts. “It’s a very prestigious organization as you know. They are making hounds in the realm of science and magic, they create wonders that better our world. I am forever grateful that I have just been accepted into such an institute and I was just thinking that someone of your talent would want to be in such a—”

“Oh,” Johann interrupts. “You want me to go with you. So you’re not alone.”

Heat floods Kravitz’s face in an instant, until he feels it trickling down his neck and down to his shoulders. He does not dignify Johann’s observation with a response, but that’s about all Johann needs from Kravitz nowadays. For as difficult as it may be for Johann to tell what most people think and feel around him, he’s gotten Kravitz pinned like no other. “Krav. Why?”

“Johann, you know why.”

Of course Johann knows why. He knows it like the fidget in his hand, the scratch of his neck, the death in Kravitz’s former dorm room, the rosewood violin. Oh, how he knows.

“…Yeah. I know.”

The two of them do not look at each other for a while. They sit in silence, sipping on their drinks, eating their snacks. Johann’s heart pounds in his chest; Kravitz’s throat feels incredibly dry. Though neither of them speak, their bodies sing songs of their thoughts, anxieties that they can pick up. 

Eventually, it gets too much for Kravitz. “We work well together,” he says. “Even though we studied very different things, when we studied together it was wonderful. And I love living with you, you’re a good roommate. You’re a wonderful friend.”

Johann bites his lip. He’s trying to stop himself from seething and it only barely works. “That doesn’t change just because we go into different jobs.”

“But doesn’t it?” Kravitz asks. It’s a desperate plea more than a genuine or even rhetorical question. “This will take up a lot of my time. Any job you get, an orchestra you join, a school you teach at, or— gods, if you ever make it big and start doing solo gigs…” A breath gets caught in Kravitz’s throat and Johann wonders if he’s actually going to cry in public. “Johann, you’ll be gone. You’ll go travelling. And when you’re here, I’ll be at the institute. We won’t have nearly as much time as we currently do now.”

“I always thought you would be with me if I did that,” Johann says. It’s his turn to get emotional, with his stiff movements and his cracking voice. Gods, oh gods, why did we have to bring this up now? he thinks to himself.

“I still want to. That isn’t impossible. I…” Kravitz rubs his face in exhaustion, and an attempt to buy himself time to form his sentence. “We can do something like that in the Institute, I am sure. That organization is about the biggest stage you can get in the world right now. All of the public eye has been on it ever since we’ve started finding other planets within our plane. I am sure, I am so sure, that by working there you can have access to the world’s greatest orchestras and stages.”

Kravitz reaches a hand over to Johann’s, who lets him. “And I will be there for you the whole way,” he says. It is soft, but it is earnest.

Johann sucks in a shaky breath. “Tell me it won’t all go wrong,” he pleads.

“What?”

“That this won’t lead me down towards nothing. That I will actually, truly, still have a chance at doing what I want to do. That I am not doing this just for you.” 

“I promise,” Kravitz grins, “it won’t all go wrong. You’re not doing this just for me.”

I would still do this just for you, rings in the back of Johann’s mind. 

—

“I never expected to be on a giant planar ship, you know.”

Johann’s words ring between him and Kravitz as they ready themselves into their bright red robes. He, Kravitz and Keats were all preparing for the expedition of a lifetime: two months beyond their own plane of existence. The other hand picked crewmates, Dr. Maureen Miller, Sloane, Hurley, and Captain Boyland were all preparing as well for their grand exit on the other side of the room.

“Isn’t that great?” Kravitz beams. “First bard on an IPRE mission. That journalist for The Rolling Gemstones was very interested in hearing any music that would be inspired by your travels. Now, aren’t you lucky you were picked?”

“It was less that he was picked and more that you insisted you wouldn’t go at all if he didn’t come,” Keats clarifies. Kravitz shoots a glare of daggers at Keats’ comment, and he promptly shies away and shuts up the moment he sees those eyes of death on him.

Johann notices and kicks Kravitz in the ankle, resulting in a silently ‘ow!’ “He’s not wrong, so, be nice,” Johann says. The robe drapes along his shoulders perfectly, and when he flips the hood over his feathered cap, he realizes it is the perfect width and length to allow it to encapsulate his headwear without crumpling it. He looks at Kravitz and Keats and flips the cape of the robe dramatically. “Whaddya think?” he asks in his monotonous tone.

Keats starts, “You look—”

“Stupid,” Kravitz ends.

“Kravitz!”

“He knows what I mean.”

Johann nods and flips his hood back off. “Yeah, I know. He means I look cool in the bard way, which is stupid in the nerd way,” he explains to Keats. “So, I look nice. Got it. You know, red really isn’t my colour, man, but I am kind of rocking it.”

Sloane butts in on the conversation. “You can say that again,” she muses as she tugs on the IPRE patch on her left breast. Her red jacket contrasts against her otherwise black outfit. “All ready, you three? We gotta strap in in a few minutes. This ain’t a fashion show.”

“We’re ready,” the three men chime. At their response, Sloane’s eyes sweep across them and does not comment on their half-dressedness. Then, she walks away with the fully dressed Hurley and Boyland. Maureen, the most accomplished and experienced person on the team behind the Captain, watches Kravitz and Keats hurry getting into their uniforms before she finally leaves.

Kravitz pulls on Johann’s sleeve before he can leave. “Johann?” he asks.

“Yes, Kravitz?”

“I’ve always wanted to be a conductor.”

The confession catches Johann off guard. “What?”

“I never told you what I wanted to pursue in music, back when you asked, when we first met,” Kravitz says. His eyes are locked onto Johann’s and he can’t afford to look away. “There’s something about… bringing people together. Keeping people in time. Being a messenger? Something about it feels right. It feels orderly.”

“…Okay?”

“This is the expedition of a lifetime. I have been waiting for something like this for… a long time. And my job on this ship is not unlike being a conductor,” Kravitz says. Johann notices how frantic his voice sounds, but before he can open his mouth to comfort Kravitz, he gets shut down, “I guess I just wanted you to know that before we leave. Because really, I couldn’t have done this without you. I hope you understand that.”

Johann holds onto the hand on his sleeve. His touch is gentle, caressing Kravitz’s hand with a fiery love and affection. “I do,” he whispers. “Of course I do. I couldn’t have been here without you, too. We have that in common, don’t we?” Johann chokes up after that last sentence, but it’s with a proud smile that’s so infectious it makes its way onto Kravitz’s lips as well. “You’re my best friend, Krav.”

“Sometimes I see you as a brother, weirdly enough.”

Johann rolls his eyes. How many times have the two of them done that to each other? “We’re nothing like siblings,” he lies through his teeth. As if he hasn’t had that thought before. “You only say that because you were an only child, idiot.”

“So were you, stupid.”

They laugh. Johann and Kravitz, two people that most would swear were insufferably hard to connect with, difficult to understand emotionally, laugh with each other until they inevitably are pulled away and ushered into the Starblaster. Their home for the next few months. A violinist and a conductor, a bard of lore and a researcher of space, the two stare outside the window of the Starblaster, hand in hand. Waving at the people below— strangers, friends, even family as Keats waves down his two older siblings— and they feel excitement.

The violinist and the conductor think of music as they leave their world.