#listening to Hozier doesn't help

[yndrgrl]

your boyfriend, katsuki bakugo, loves you dearly, but you're scared you'll never be deserving of him

cute lil dabble. lowkey songfic. fem! reader. angst to comfort. fluff. established relationship. any au. overthinking! reader.

warnings: there are none :D

a/n: picture a "too sweet" by hozier girl x "i wanna be yours" by arctic monkeys boy relationship !

-

katsuki is always characterized as hostile yet calculating, a man who knows exactly what he wants. he's destined to be the top of the food chain, everyone knows it. he's powerful man with a deadly gorgeous face, his fangirls would describe.

& in comes you. plain old you.

you honestly have no idea what katsuki sees in you. like, if you're digging deep in yourself, maybe he likes your for your dark, crude sense of humor that always seems to make him belly laugh.

it's said that he's an early bird. he's awake before you every single day, asleep & sound by 8:30-- on the weekends, he'll push it to 10:00. before you've said your first words of the day, he's already made his side of the bed, made & ate breakfast, put away the laundry, & is off to his morning run after his morning workout. his good habits he's developed early in life has benefited him in every way.

he never procrastinated on chores, his paper work is flawless, & you could learn a thing or two from his time management skills. he's always making time for spontaneous dates you wanna go on, festivals you wanna visit, & he makes sure that the pantry is stacked with your favorite snacks. any of your interests are his interests, even if he doesn't fully understand it.

when it comes to katsuki, you ought to wonder if he ever wants to experience something different from his strict, repetitive lifestyle. you sometimes feel stupid for wanting more out; you want to travel somewhere far away, you want to go out clubbing with a bunch of strangers, you want to move to the country side & live in a cottage. katsuki always reels in your dreams, encouraging you but also reminding you that you need to stay consistent to achieve them. you're jealous with how fast he can accept reality.

"babe? you listening?" katsuki questioned, snapping you out of your thoughts. you blinked a couple of times then nodded almost-too enthusiastically. he let out a little chuckle & stroked your cheek with his thumb. "what're you thinking about?"

"nothing, i'm sorry," you sighed with your hands in your lap. you both were on the couch, doing your own thing. he was on his phone, & you were supposed to be doing some work on your laptop, but you found yourself spacing out again.

"don't apologize. i'm just curious about what's going on in that pretty, little head of yours," he told you before he took your hand & pressed his lips against your knuckles. you thought to yourself, i'm not good enough for this man.

you debated whether or not to tell the truth. on one side, he has been your devoted boyfriend for years now, but on the other, he could just be asking out of curtesy. like, what if he actually does not care at all- "(y/n)? talk to me. i know you have something you wanna say," katsuki commented, scooting closer to you. he set the pillow that you placed your laptop on the coffee table so he could get your undivided attention. he caressed your thigh to help ground you.

you stayed silent for a moment, & he waited patiently. you swallowed, your eyes darted from his piercing red ones to the floor to his hands. finally, you said, "you're too sweet for me." he laughed & laughed, & you couldn't help but crack a smile. "what? what's so funny?" you pouted.

"sorry for laughing, princess. it's just no one ever calls me sweet. like, ever," admitted katsuki as he settled down from his fit of laughter. what he said was true though, he didn't have a problem with it. he was not sweet at all, he was rough around the edges & egotistical with the skills to back him up. he only ever thinks about himself & you. "but what makes you say that, hm?"

"well, for one, you always treat me out & take me anywhere i want. we never go where you wanna go," you pointed out, jabbing your finger in his toned chest playfully.

"that doesn't make me sweet. i have the money, & i don't fuckin' care about where we go to eat."

you chose to ignore him, rolling your eyes at him because that was his excuse every time. "two, you're literally in the prime of your life, & you choose to go to sleep at 8:30? how do you sleep so well?"

"(y/n), what is this really about?" he questioned. katsuki brushed your hair away from your face, tucking the silky strands behind your ear. "& don't lie to me, i know you."

"ugh, fineee," you groaned as you threw your head back. maybe it was for comedic effect, or to gather your thoughts & regulate the tears that started to well in your eyes. "do you think i'm like, worthy of you?"

"worthy of me?"

"yeah, do you think i'm good enough for you?" you rephrased, pulling your hands away from him to rub your upper arm. it's embarrassing to admit something, it's scary too. what if, once you point it out, he'll agree & leave you?

"'course i do! i'm the best around & i got the best fuckin' girl, why are you thinking this shit?" katsuki exclaimed, his passion that you wish you had seeping through to his tone. a moment of thick silence followed, you took a deep breath. you suck at emotions.

"you're too good for me, okay! you're so much stronger than everyone, & if that wasn't enough, you're insanely smart! i'm just... here. average at best. people praise you like the morning after an eternity of darkness. you're the rain after a heatwave. everything works out for you, & i'm just the one holding you back from even better things-"

"babe, you're not holding me back or whatever. you've never held me back," he stated like it was a fact, but you felt as though he was just saying that to calm you down. it angered you, & you were ashamed that you were angry because it wasn't even directed at him, it was directed at the fact you felt unworthy.

"no, you don't get it! i aim low because it's realistic for me, i can't afford to aim for anything else because i'm destined to fail. you, on the other hand... you have so much potential. don't you get embarrassed about having a girlfriend like me?"

"no." he answered so quickly, like it was rehearsed, like he knew what you were going to say. "i've never felt embarrassed of you ever. you're so fuckin' dense, you know that?"

you paused just to stare at him. katsuki sure had a way with comforting people. even after years of being a hero, he never learned how to traditionally comfort people. tough love, everyone would call it. but with you, he forced himself to be tender because you deserve treatment no one else gets from him.

there were so many things he wanted to say to you. don't you realize what you do for him? god, katsuki would go mad living without you now that he knows what life is like with you, his missing rib. the two of you are meant to be, you're two sides of the same coin. so what if he's as bright as the morning? you were his darling night, the very universe was visible through your eyes.

"you must be dense if you really thing you're just average. would i go for an average girl?"

"i mean-"

"no, the answer is no. you're deserving of love, my love. everything you've accomplished, everything you've overcome, you're just diminishing it because what? you think you're dumb or something? you- you..." you're the reason my world goes round, you are so talented, he was so desperate to shout these praises at you.

he was never one for romantic gestures through words. if he did, he would've been the best damn poet in the game. "i am yours."

it was such a simple sentence, yet it shook you to the core. you stared into his lively, crimson eyes. the look he gave you in return made your breath hitch; he was so deeply devoted to you, as deep as the pacific ocean.

you leaned in, capturing him in a kiss. tears rolled down your cheeks, your despair melting away. you felt like the two of you were kids again, sharing your first kiss. how could you doubt a man who so clearly, who so desperately, loves every bit of you.

#anime and manga #bakugou scenarios #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha x reader #x reader #bakugou drabble #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou headcanons #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugo x reader #bnha katsuki bakugou #bakugo fluff #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo my hero academia #my hero academy fanfiction #mha headcanons

[azrielbrainrot]

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You

Azriel x Reader

Description: Azriel would give anything to hold you one more time.

Warnings: Angst, Mourning, mention of suicide

Word Count: 3652

Notes: I don't even know where this came from. I was listening to sweet music by hozier and thought "what if I gave Azriel more trauma". The idea popped into my head and it basically wrote itself. I can't believe I have to say this but with this fandom I'm not risking it: this wasn't written to hate on Elain (or any other character) or incite anyone else to do so. Keep your stupid fights off my post, please and thank you. Hope you enjoy!

Part 2

Another family dinner at the river house meant another night of watching everyone around him happy and in love. Azriel didn't think of himself as egotistical, would never think the love his brothers are experiencing is undeserved either, but it reminds him of a time where he was the only one in the Inner Circle with a partner, of when his brothers were the ones confessing to him how jealous they were of how he had found someone that loved him so much, of a time he never thought would have an end. It reminds him of you.

He looks himself in the mirror as he buttons up the navy shirt, trying to ignore the vacant room behind him. If you were here with him you would have been making jokes about his insistence on keeping the blue theme going in his clothes even though he swears he doesn't think too much about what to wear or his appearance in general.

On a good day, you'd be helping him with the small buttons right now, with shadows swirling around your legs and looking up at him the way you knew would take his breath away every time. On an even better day, he'd have your back pressed against his chest, his fingers inside your familiar heat, the other hand wrapped around your throat so you could watch him play with your body, panting his name and clawing at his arm, pleading with him to keep going, to let you touch him. He'd be late for an entirely different reason, not for getting held up talking to his spies, and then getting lost in his memories.

Sensing his thoughts, his meddling shadows move to his desk, filtering into the drawer they knew held a small velvet box. The dark wisps carefully picked it up and set it on top of the dark wood. Leaving it there and moving back to their original places around the darkened room, letting him decide for himself if he wanted to open it or not.

It had been a while since the last time he touched it, busy as he was these days. There were times he would sit and look at it every day, sometimes without even daring to open it and look inside. But there were also times where even the sight of the navy velvet would suddenly suffocate him with the reminder of your sweet scent, one he would never be able to smell again. It would make him hide the box at the back of his drawer, the back of his mind.

Over the last few years, his reactions to it had gotten milder, an unwilling acceptance of the fact that he would never see you again allowed him to reminisce on the happy memories you had together, even the sad ones, every little fight you had seemed so inconsequential now, he'd give anything to be able to have any moment with you back, to hear you say his name one more time.

He walks to the desk, only hesitating for a beat before grabbing and opening the box. His heart throbs as he stares at the ring sitting inside, thumbing at the empty space left behind by it on his finger instinctively. He had never liked rings, didn't like anything that brought attention to his hands or rubbed against the rough skin but the moment you slid the silver ring into his finger it felt right, he had never wanted to take it off. Azriel would wear a ring on each finger if it showed the world he was yours.

He wore the ring for an entire decade after you died, even after all hope that you could still be alive had left him, he couldn't bring himself to let go of it, to let go of you. His mother had been the one to tell him he needed to stop wearing it, that holding onto it, onto the past would only bring him more heartache. He could still hear her begging him with tears in her eyes, not bearing to see her son in such a state, but he had only actually taken it off when Rhys was taken by Amarantha.

He had thrown the ring into the Sidra that night. He's not sure if it had been anger, frustration or simply hopelessness that drove him to it in that moment. He was tired of not being able to protect anyone, tired of losing his people, the people he never thought he would even find when he was just a boy sitting in a dark humid cell. It must have been that boy's pain, still inside him, that drove him to act like that. If it hadn't been for his shadows immediately flying after it he would have lost it, wouldn't have this reminder of a happy time sitting in front of him right now, it had helped him ground himself more than once during the years following that night. His shadows had saved him from himself once again.

He closes the box gently, rubbing at the smooth texture of the velvet, trying not to let himself get lost in your memory and the bitterness that followed at the injustice of it all. Your marriage had only lasted a little over a decade, he's had to live with your ghost for much longer than that now. Still, he knows he won't forget that time no matter how many more years he lives, and, even if it's another five centuries, he knows he'll still wish he had had the chance to spend them all with you.

Some of the pain has dulled, most days at least, but the guilt still eats at him. He should have known something was going to happen, should have reached you sooner, should have told someone to go with you, should have gone himself, should have been the one to die in your place. The millions of possibilities will likely invade his brain until his last breath, after which he'll finally be able to see you again. That was another thought that had consumed him far too often in the beginning. If it wasn't for his mother, his brothers and Mor, if it weren't for the pain it would cause them, he would have taken Truth Teller to his neck just for the chance to see you one more time.

Azriel? His wings go rigid and he tightens his hold on the box at the sudden intrusion. He tries to push his thoughts as far back into his mind as he can before lowering his mental shields, almost letting out a sigh of relief at finding them in place, hoping his brother couldn't get a glimpse of his thoughts. He hands the box to his shadows so they can safely place it back inside his drawer. Are you still coming, brother?

Yes. He moves back to the mirror and finishes buttoning his shirt while trying to keep his tone as nonchalant as possible. However, the hesitation on the other side tells him Rhys sensed exactly what was holding him up in his room, he knows him better than anyone after all.

Hurry then. We're all waiting for you. Azriel closes his walls as soon as he feels his brother's absence in his mind. He knows they miss you too. They had welcomed you with open arms and considered you part of the family after their marriage. Everyone in the Inner Circle took a big hit when you went missing. He will never forget Cassian's face when he arrived to see Azriel kneeling down in a pool of your blood, with no body to be found. His brother wore his heart on his sleeve and it had shattered that night. There were countless sleepless nights for everyone following that moment.

They all threw themselves at finding you in any way they could. There was enough blood on the floor to tell them you had died but none of them wanted to believe it. Azriel talked to every single one of his spies multiple times, ordering them to track every movement in their respective areas. Rhys sent letters to every ally he had and then joined Cassian and Mor in searching every corner of Prythian personally. Even Amren, ever the logical emotionless one, searched for you with every means she could, contacting friends the spymaster didn't even know existed. But, one by one, they all had to accept the truth, Azriel ending up being the most hesitant to.

He had long since killed the attackers, putting them through as much pain as possible for as long as he could keep them alive, making them regret ever touching you. But that didn't help with the gaping hole in his chest, nothing helped. They didn't know how to find your body either. Rhys looked through every corner of their minds and only found them leaving you behind, bleeding on the cold ground.

Rhys refused to show him the memory, no matter how much he begged him to let him see you one more time. Now he knows his brother was just trying to protect him, not wanting that to be Azriel's last memory of you, with the amount of blood left behind he knew you couldn't have been in good shape, but at the time he lashed out at his brother like he had never done before, probably would have killed him in blind rage if it hadn't been for Cassian trying to hold him back and if Rhys wasn't Rhys. Thinking back he should have thanked him instead, for holding onto such a painful memory and keeping it to himself so no one else had to suffer from it.

Even if he couldn't see you again, he still wishes that he had your body to bury at least. Azriel doesn't know how the Mother could be so cruel as to not only let you die so soon, so painfully without at least letting him find your body so he could put you to rest next to your parents' graves. It would also give him a place to talk to you, to feel as close to you as possible.

The pain almost came back in full when Rhysand first told him about Feyre. Jealousy had reared its ugly head at the fondness in his brother's gaze, the slight tint to his cheeks at just saying her name. He was happy for Rhys, especially after everything he'd been through, but that happiness couldn't hold a candle to the pain he felt. He remembers the night he confided in his brothers about the lovely female he had met, how she had told him she loved him, it had been much like that one.

To make matters worse, the first thing he remembered when Rhys told him about his mate was a stupid bet the two of you had made - you had been adamant that Cassian, as sweet as he is, would be the next to get married, Azriel had voted for Rhys, one of his many conquests were bound to work out one day. He won and yet he didn't feel victorious at all. He couldn't even tell you of your loss, see how pouty you get when it happens, ever the sore loser. Didn't even remember the prize but there was no way for you to give it to him now either way. What hurt the most was that he couldn't even tell you his brother had found his mate. These were the best news in over a century and he just wanted to share them with you, wanted to share everything with you.

He takes another look at the mirror with a small sigh, straightening his wings and making sure his face doesn't give anything away before calling to his shadows. He feels them wrap around him slowly, giving him some comfort before taking him directly to the river house.

“Almost thought you weren't coming.” He was still half covered in shadows when he heard Cassian's voice. Everyone was standing around talking to each other, waiting on him. The guilt was tugging at his heart strings again. Why would he ever feel like he needed more than a family that loved him? Who was he to think this wasn't enough for him? It was something he could only dream of when he was younger.

“He's here now. That's all that matters,” the smile Feyre gave him was warmer than usual and her hand lingered on his shoulder for a second too long. Azriel looks over to Rhys, finding him already looking at him, studying his face. He had told his mate of whatever he sensed in his mind then. He hoped neither of them brought it up at least, now or later. What good would admit he misses his dead wife do? No one can bring you back to him.

“Finally. I'm starving.” Cassian clapped his shoulder as he passed by him on the way to the already set table, sitting down immediately. Everyone followed in his footsteps, greeting Azriel and finding their seats. Seems he really had kept them waiting.

Conversation picked back up naturally and he let himself fall into the usual rhythm of these dinners, letting his body relax around his family, forgetting about his old life for the moment. He walked over to the already set table and took his seat next to Elain, as it usually was these days. The seating arrangements had moved around a bit over the last years to accommodate not only the new additions to their little circle but also the relationships in them. He used to always sit next to Cassian but now had given the seat up to his beautiful mate. It left him next to Elain most times since they were the only single fae at the table.

Elain gave him a soft smile as he sat down and he nodded at her with a smile of his own. They had been getting closer ever since she was turned to fae and started living in Velaris. Her quiet nature quickly drew him to her, feeling at ease almost immediately with the middle Archeron sister. But he had to have been blind not to see the way she looked at him, not to notice the enamored smile she gave him.

Sometimes he let himself wonder if things could work between them. She had a mate but it was clearer with each passing day that she didn't feel anything for the male tied to her. It was also obvious how well Azriel and Elain got along, fitting into each other's lives almost seamlessly. He didn't love her but couldn't say seeing himself fall for the lovely female was such a far-fetched idea. She was a beautiful and kind fae, loving her would probably be as easy as breathing.

When everyone had been made aware of the mating bonds, he had even considered if the Mother had made a mistake. His two brothers had ended up with two of the sisters after all. Now he can see he was just desperate for a bond like theirs. In truth, he wouldn't even know what he would have done if Elain had truly been his mate. Would he finally put you behind him? Would he have thrown the ring away again, for good this time? He knows he couldn't bring himself to even with the power of a mating bond. You were etched deep into his skin just like the bargain marks inked into his shoulders.

As the dinner moved on and they made their way to the sofas in the sitting room, his family was already more than lively. Mor had busted out one of Rhysand's old wine bottles, setting the mood for the rest of the night. Azriel had completely relaxed by then, letting himself enjoy their company, his shadows retreating almost completely around the room. Finally having some reprieve from the particularly insistent thoughts that were plaguing his mind today.

Cassian was telling a story he had heard a thousand times now but he still laughed along with everyone else. Listening to Cass tell the story so many times wouldn't make the fact that he had flown straight into a river any less funny. Azriel even remembered the following part, the one Cass doesn't include in the story which was after they pulled him out and he had gotten sick for a week, making him miss practice and lose every spar with him and Rhys for the next months.

Even old stories had a new life with new people around, it was the first time the sisters heard this one, judging by the slight tint to Nesta's cheeks as she laughed at her mate and how hard Feyre was clutching at Rhys' arm to ground herself. Even Elain was laughing hard enough that her body was shaking. Her laugh was soft and melodic, a lovely sound really, but it suddenly opened a familiar pit in his stomach. It reminded him of you. She wasn't quite as loud and her eyes didn't immediately water like yours but the way she raised her hand to her face was similar. And just like that the illusion of happiness he had created shattered.

She was nothing like you but he still found you in every thing she did, in everything anyone did. He couldn't go to half of the city's bakeries and shops without thinking of you and every moment you spent there. He had even changed rooms in every one of Rhysand's houses, not bearing to sleep in the same bed you had held him in. Everyone in the Inner Circle had learned to avoid certain topics, certain stories in fear they would remind him of you. Even your name was rarely mentioned unless he did so first or strictly necessary. Every thought of getting over you was nothing more than wishful thinking. It was like his entire soul was begging him to go to you, but you weren't anywhere in this world.

This had to be one of the worst parts of his routine lately, having to take extra care to school his features when spending time with his brothers and their mates. If his face showed any sign of how much he missed you, how much he wished he could hug you to him just like they can do with them, they would immediately look at him with pain in their eyes, pain for what he lost and will never get back.

It had taken too long to get used to how differently they treated him after what happened. He had to start a fight to get them to stop treating him like he could break at any second when it was the truth. They knew it as well as he did, but they also knew that they had to let Azriel mourn in his own way, that there was nothing they could do besides stay by his side.

You weren't mates - maybe the pain he feels would never compare to what his brothers would go through if their mates ever met the same fate as you - but that had never mattered to him. His soul sang for you the same way he sang for his shadows, you were written into his very being just like they were. And, most importantly, there wasn't a single fiber in his body that wanted to live without you.

Even a mate could never erase you from his memory, even if you had been alive. He doubts if a mating bond had snapped between you two at the time, you would have gotten any deeper into him than you already were. He can't imagine loving you, wanting you more than he already did was possible.

He felt his shadows move to him, almost sending them away thinking they were coming to comfort him again, hiding him from the world as usual. Their urgency gave them away, and by the way Rhysand's body tensed across from him he also had noticed something amiss.

“What happened?” The High Lord's voice cut through the atmosphere immediately, everyone looked to him for an explanation and got ready for any possibility. His entire body stood still when his shadows told him they felt someone winnowing into the townhouse.

“Someone's in the townhouse,” he stood up as he spoke, sending some of his shadows out to find out as much as they could and the rest around Velaris to check if there were any other disturbances.

“Who could get past the wards?” He felt a shield around them, Rhys had likely set it up around his house. Cassian's siphons were flickering red as they all prepared for what could come next. Velaris was more than well protected, especially after the attacks before the war, but the High Lord's homes were nearly impossible to get into uninvited, Azriel himself had helped make sure of it.

“I don't know,” he held onto Truth Teller as he waited for his shadows or his High Lord and Lady to find something. His shadows were being strangely lax about the whole situation, maybe this was someone who knew of a way to go around his gift, keep them distracted.

It took longer than usual to receive a response from them, making him and everyone around him more concerned by the second. By now everyone was donning a sword or weapon of some sort, only waiting on more information before splitting up to keep Velaris safe and find the intruders.

When his shadows finally appeared they wasted no time rushing to his ear, at last sensing his urgency in the matter. Their answer was one nothing could have prepared him for, his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest.

His shadows came back carrying a once familiar tune. They came back singing your name.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel angst #azriel fic #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fic #divider by saradika

[pathetic-sapphic]

Praise kink with Abby for kinktober?

Your Love Is Sunlight

Kinktober Day 18: Praise Kink

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader

''That's right, baby, just lay there all pretty as I take care of you, okay?'' Your girlfriend whispers into your ear, relishing in your little whimpers. Abby's been teasing you for the past hour, worshipping your pliant body with her hands, lips and tongue, all the while whispering praises and compliments into your ear. As much as you want her to just get to the main event, you cannot deny how lovely it feels to be taken care of like this.

Abby notices your flushed and loving gaze, getting up from her position between your soft thighs, where she was sucking in marks and bruises, and goes up towards you to capture your lips in a soft kiss. One of her hands plays with your breast gently while the other caresses your cheek with her thumb. Once you both pull away, she regards your blushing face with a look of awe. ''You're so pretty, you know that?'' She asks, astonishment in her voice.

You can't help but feel as if you're a work of art whenever she looks at you like this. As if you're the only person in this world who truly matters and, knowing Abby, that's probably true for her. She loves seeing the effect she has on you, the way your body trembles at her touch and how your breath hitches at her loving words.

She gives you a soft smile before leaning down, leaving a trail of kisses from your neck to your stomach. Abby lays back down between your legs, her nose nuzzling into the soft skin of your belly. She lays another kiss there before looking up at you with a look so lovesick it has your heart doing flips. ''I love seeing you like this, you know? Such a pretty, perfect girl, and you're all mine.'' You cannot deny the wave of arousal that washes over you when she says that so possessively and judging by her grin, she notices.

''Don't worry, babygirl, I'll make you feel good.'' Abby says, her strong hands lifting up your thighs to perch them up on her shoulders. She teases you a bit, lowering her face right before your cunt, so close you can feel her breath hitting your wet folds. You sneak down a hand and pull at her hair lightly and she chuckles at your desperate behavior. Before you know it, her mouth is on you, devouring you as if you're the most delicious thing in the whole word.

Her hands have a strong grip on your legs, making sure her sweet girl doesn't squirm away from the onslaught of pleasure. Abby could spend forever in-between your thighs, feasting on your juices and listening to the sweet melody of your moans.

Yes, she could die happy here, she thinks to herself.

song i listened to while writing: sunlight by hozier

a/n: this is my first time writing for abby! i hope i did it justice :)

#abby tlou #abby anderson #abby x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson smut #abby x reader smut

[feralgirlfeelings]

★ what kind of music each love & deepspace boy would listen to! ★

hcs of zayne, rafayel, and xavier's music taste ♫꒰･◡･๑꒱

pairing: lnds boys x reader

warnings: none

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zayne:

he listens to classical music 90% of the time. it's not because he particularly likes it, but he just got used it after listening to classical music to focus while studying 12 hours a day as a med student. now, in pavlovian fashion, he'll play it while performing surgeries to really get him in the zone. the other 10% is, surprisingly, cutesy kpop girl group songs. think "russian roulette" by red velvet, "magnetic" by illit, and "only" by leehi. he doesn't go out of his way to find these songs, but he'll hear them in passing and get one stuck in his head. he's one of those people that'll get hooked and listen to a song over and over again, especially while he's working out or when he needs an energy boost. he's embarrassed about it, so he'll try to hide it from you, only listening to music with his earbuds in. but there's been times where you catch him:

"zayne, i didn't know you were into red velvet," you stifle a giggle. you hold his phone up to him, the song "russian roulette" on the lock screen. he crosses his arms, ears turning pink, "what's so funny about that? ...it's catchy." "nothing! i just didn't expect that from you," you laugh. you hand him his phone back, "i can teach you the dance, i know it by heart," you tease. "hmm," he raises an eyebrow, an amused look on his face. "i'd like to see that."

xavier:

he likes a few different genres of music, but he tends to like classic rock and alternative the most. some of his favourite songs are "little dark age" by mgmt, "eyes without a face" by billy idol, and "let it happen" by tame impala. he doesn't like to explore new music often and will usually just stick to what he already likes. he'll often blast music through his through his earbuds when he's fighting wanderers alone or when he's trying to stay awake. he's had a lot of time on earth, so his taste spans a lot of different music eras. there's been a few times when he's complained about how he "just doesn't get music nowadays." sometimes he'll show you a super old song and be surprised that you've never heard of it before:

xavier hands you an earbud, the other one in his ear. he shows you a song on his phone that you don't recognize. after a few seconds of listening, you shake your head, "i don't know this one." "really?" xavier looks at you shocked. "this song was huge in the 80s." you hand him back his earbud, "see that's why i don't know it, i'm not 40," you tease. "they just don't make music like this anymore," he sighs. you laugh, "xavier, that makes you sounds so old!' he smiles back at you, "i think those songs are just timeless."

rafayel:

he's into artsy stuff. he's one of those people who listens to a song or album multiples times to dissect and analyze every part of it, appreciating it as an art form. some of his favourite songs include "my love mine all mine" and "washing machine heart" by mitski, as well as "movement" by hozier. he plays music while working on paintings, because apparently, "listening to complex music helps with the artistic process." he also experiences sound-to-colour synesthesia, which explains why the music helps him paint. he has a really pretty singing voice and will often hum or sing his favourite songs, but will get shy when you ask him to sing for you. despite his usual pretentious music taste, he'll occasionally get hooked on some generic top 40s song, like something by drake.

rafayel had been humming the same song over and over again while working on a painting of you. you couldn't help but close your eyes and focus on the melody, "what song is that?" you ask. he pauses from humming, his concentration on his painting unwavering, "my love mine all mine by mitski." "it's nice, i've never heard of it before," you reply. "i'm not surprised, i have spectacular taste, you know," he boasts. you stare at him blankly, "wasn't your top song last year passionfruit?" holding back a laugh. his ears and cheeks turn bright red, "those are never accurate anyways."

#love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #zayne #xavier #rafayel #lnds #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #lnds xavier #lnds rafayel #lnds zayne #love and deepspace x reader

[ghouljams]

same hozier anon from earlier!

i was rereading your viking au and couldn't stop thinking about soap and butchered tongue!? specifically:

so far from home have a stranger call you "darling" and have your guarded heart be lifted like a child up by the hand

of course, hozier is specifically discussing the treatment of indigenous peoples and the wexford rebellion of 1978. but it got me thinking, what was soap's transition into viking life like? what is it like to speak a different language with reader when it's something shared just between them? the first time reader calls soap a term of endearment in his own mother tongue?

imo, andrew made unreal unearth with the intent of forcing us through every circle of hell and then just keeping through it all on a loop. and i thank him for it (what does that say about me).

Viking!Soap and Butchered Tongue is such a winning combination. I absolutely adore that song, it makes me tear up each time I listen to it. We'll get to Soap's backstory, his trauma, in the official story line, but for now yeah I can talk about his transition to viking life.

Strange men speaking in strange tongues, their clothing so different from his own, but their rough hands are the same, the sadness in their eyes is the same. It's human, it's familiar in a way that stings more than the cuts along Soap's face. They don't understand him when he speaks, looking between themselves, talking in quiet tones. The language they speak is rough, like hearing his own sounds jumbled back to him, but Soap's always been quick. Certain words repeat themselves, certain sounds repeated between men questioningly. He can make assumptions.

He tugs the cloak one of them men gave him tighter around his shoulders. He doesn't want to seem weak in front of them, not when they're so clearly attempting to decide what to do with him. A different man pushes the conversation apart with his mere presence, leveling Soap with an icy stare. When he opens his mouth the words that come out are rough and mispronounced, but familiar.

"You want work?"

Soap nods quickly. Work, sure. He's strong, he's smart, he'd do anything to get away from the smell of death that carried him here, he can work. Even if it's hard, even if he hates it, he can work. Anything to get off this godforsaken rock.

What he thought would take months takes mere weeks. Weeks of living with the men that call themselves vikings to pick up enough of their language to converse. "Soap" they call him.

"Because ya needed a bath," Ghost grumbles over dinner one night. Soap laughs, not because it's particularly funny, but because he understands him. It's rueful, almost despairing. He understands him. No one will ever hear the words of the Mactavishes again.

Working helps him adjust. There are things to do to keep his mind off of everything, he learns the words for ship parts before he learns colors. He knows how to count money before he learns how to introduce himself. He knows Price before he learns the word for Captain, learns not to apologize for that. He watches the sun fall, watches it rise again. He teaches Gaz a few words, stops when it makes the ache in his chest grow too big and unavoidable. They get back to his new home and he's given a share of the profits, more money than he's seen in his life. He's given a bed in the long house, warm food, new clothes, he's given a sturdy iron band to wear around his arm, if he wants.

He learns the language, the culture. He adjusts. He translates the next time they're across the sea, trading with people he no longer feels familiar to. A viking wearing his tartan over his shoulders, speaking a familiar tongue, he feels like a stranger in his homeland. He leans against Ghost by the fire, toys with the iron band around his wrist. Strangers to every land but the one that took them in.

He misses his ma.

He doesn't mention it.

He meets you like a ghost of his past. He watches your village burn and sees his own in the smoke. He hauls you off kicking and screaming, in a familiar, painful, tongue. You sound like his memories of home. You sound like the place he's never been able to forget. You mean everything to him, and you hate him.

You won't speak to him, not the way he wants you to, and it's like losing his home all over again.

#cod x reader #x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap call of duty #soap cod #soap mw2 #viking!soap #viking au

[cosmal]

hozier — send me an au + character and i’ll write you a blurb. i.e rockstar!remus, rugby!james, stoner!peter

you can’t just mention rugby!james and not expect my mind to melt. i immediately just thought of this old tiktok and it just feels like him in the mornings when he has to go to some super early practice or something, like before the sun is even up, and i am just so soft for it🥺

5am training sessions

summary james wants you to get up early for rugby training.

content james potter x fem!reader

note this is very short but so james potter omgggg thank u !!

James throws his bag over his shoulders and finds that he can't get himself to look away from where you're half asleep in his bed. Since he's gotten up to get ready, you've stretched your arm out where he'd been next to you, your hand searching.

He watches the bedding slowly shift as you breathe, where your face is smooshed softly into the edge of his pillow.

He hates 5am training sessions.

He's feeling selfish this morning. You look so fucking peaceful but James has never been one to have an ounce of resolve. Not when it comes to you.

He lets himself lean down into the mattress, not really careful where he puts his knees, and curves an arm over your middle and into the quilt. He's so close your shirt rides up and he tries not to feel as lovesick as he does.

He leans down and nudges you with his nose. You hum a noise that sounds like a protest but you're smiling despite it. "Do you wanna come to training, baby?"

"Mm-mm," you mumble, scratching your head against your pillow until your hair messes.

"Please?" His pout is easy to be heard.

"It's 5 in th'mornin', Jamie," you mumble. James takes it as a treasure to hear you speak so early. You sound sweeter than he could have ever imagined.

"We can go to Top Pot," he says, and because he can't help it, he speaks into your cheeks, warm lips pressed to your soft skin.

"It's too cold," you yawn and push your face closer to his pillow to find more warmth. He almost feels bad.

"You don't want a danish?"

"James..." you croak.

"Matcha latte?" It's starting to feel like coercion if he's honest. If he's really, really honest, he doesn't care. He imagines you wrapped up in a coat and scarf, maybe a pair of mittens, latching onto your coffee, on the sideline at training. He's a hopeful man.

"S'too early." Your words stick together with fatigue he doesn't see disappearing.

He kisses your cheek once more, twice. Your warm smile grows much to his delight. "M'gonna miss you." He kisses you again.

He thinks you're not really listening. He decides to let you be. If you did actually agree to get up with him, he'd eventually end up feeling horrible. It is too early.

He stands and looks at you. The bump of your hip, the crease in the fat of your shoulder where you've got it pushed up beside your head. He decides to lean in and kiss you again.

Your shoulder, your collarbone, your neck then your cheek. He can hear your breathing shallowing out. It catches when he kisses the skin below your ear. If he was feeling mean, he'd do it again.

"Do you want me to bring back brekky?" he asks, heading to the door despite his better judgement.

"Yes, please, Jamie."

You're lovely even when you're half asleep.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x female!reader #james potter x female reader #james potter drabble #james potter one shot #james potter headcanon #james potter drabbles #james potter imagine #james potter fanfiction #james potter fan fic #marauder x reader #the marauders #the marauders fanfic #the marauders fanfiction

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Blind Boy 🥀

(An Ominis Gaunt friends-to-lovers playlist)

A/N: Please listen in order. There's a method to my madness.

Ominis Gaunt fell in love slowly...

It began, he thinks, when he started hanging out with her. Without Sebastian that is.

Young folks - Peter Biorn and John

Lake Shore Drive - Skip Haynes

She makes him rather happy. It's odd...

Dog Days are Over - Florence + the Machine

Sunshine Lollypops and Rainbows - Lesley Gore

She understands him like no one else. And even if she doesn't, she never pretends to. Just listens.

Wow, I'm Not Crazy - AJR

He really likes his time spent with her. He thinks about her when she's not around. She occupies his thoughts rather a lot. Her time feels like a currency and he fears running out. He's never had to be afraid of any sort of lack before.

putting a spin on Ophelia - Egg

What is this warm feeling? A dream - a wish, certainly. His parents would hurt him if they found out... Besides, he's just the blind boy. Who's he kidding?

One Last Wish - Casper

If I Could Ride A Bike - Park Bird, Chevy

Creep - Radiohead

It's impossible... but what's the point of it all if he doesn't at least try? It could be so beautiful. He doesn't have to be brave about it.

Do Not Let Your Spirit Wane - Gang of Youths

Do I Wanna Know? - Arctic Monkeys

He starts to try.

Passing Papers - Egg

Chasing Cars - Snow Patrol

Are You Bored Yet - Wallows

Please Notice - Christian Leave

Feelings Are Fatal - Mxmtoon

These feelings are deeper than he thought. He can't help but indulge them.

Can't Help Falling in Love - Elvis

Amazing - Rex Orange Country

Golden Hour - JVKE

This Side of Paradise - Coyote Theory

Can I Call You Tonight? - Dayglow

I Couldn't Be More In Love - The 1975

It's so wonderful. It's beyond good. And she's always so kind to him. So perfect.

Infinitely Ordinary - The Wrecks

Remember When - Wallows

Ratisim - The Suicide Squad

One night in the Undercroft, he plucks up a little courage. And then... then he asks that girl to dance.

Not About Angels - Birdy

Once Upon A December - Anastasia

The Princess Diaries Waltz

And oh... oh he's fallen so far. He's hopeless.

Thinking Out Loud - Ed Sheeran

Line Without A Hook - Rick Montgomery

First Kiss.

Like Real People Do - Hozier

And things just get better from there...

I Hear A Symphony - Cody Fry

Say You Won't Let Go - James Arthur

I Feel Good About This - The Mowgli's

Darling - Christian Leave

Love - Lana Del Rey

the world could end with you - Llunar

After graduation, he proposes. The ring doesn't come from a distant ancestor - it's not plucked off his family tree. It's just for her. For that lovely muggle-born girl and nobody else.

Until I Found You - Steven Sanchez

His first night with her is better than he ever could have dreamed.

Saturn - Sleeping At Last

He elopes with her two months later. And married life with her is perfect. Utterly and completely perfect. Away from his family and his high-society upbringing... it's lazy and soft and simple.

Banana Pancakes - Jack Johnson

Waltz for Sweatpants - Cody Fry

Would That I - Hozier

You Are Enough - Sleeping At Last

Photograph - Cody Fry

Love theme:

Hearing - Sleeping At Last

Happy Valentine's Day 💘

#I know its a little late but I spent hours on this #its so sappy #but young love guys #my name is cas and i write stuff #fanfic #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy sebastian #fluffy fluff #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis x mc #ominis x reader #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x you #sebastian sallow x reader #friends to lovers #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy x reader #soft ominis #hes just a little guy #valentine's post #Hogwarts Valentine's #cas says stuff

[tinydefector]

This is my first time requesting anything on this app rn pls bear with me 😭😭

Can you write the TFP decepticons (like soundwave, shockwave, megatron, knockout, starscream) reacting to a young reader with a 90s grunge/metal music taste? Like they regularly play it on a CD player and what not and maybe there can even be HCs about what they like in music as well

Grunge Reader

Oki before we get into the Scenarios, here's the list of bots their thoughts on the music, clothing choice and what I think they would listen too.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: non

Request and ask open, read pinned post

Soundwave: for me Shockwave indulges in your music on many occasions he enjoy things that make you happy and if it's grunge metal he tends to go out of his way to find music downloading it for you, for him clothing or fabric in general is a foreign thing, only higher ups in the council and senate had those privileges, so he he tends to rather enjoy seeing all the different fabrics you wear.

His music choices tend to go one of two ways, Tecnho music or classical music.

Favourites to listen to

- daft punk

- scandroid

- dance with the dead

- Beethoven

- tchaikovsky

Knockout : Knockout adores listing to both you and Breakdown sing along to grunge music it livens up the medical wing and the amount of concerts the happen of the three of you singing together is amazing, he does adore your clothing choice but most times it a lot of the clothing you wear while helping him weld ends up being your band shirts.

His music choice is very pop based but he does enjoy some scandalous metal and rock.

- Lady Gaga

- nine inch nails

- Nickelback

- My Darkest days

- Rihanna

Breakdown: This bot is a grunge and metal fan, has taken you to multiple concerts events and even shopping for stuff. He has a collection of Cds in his glove box for when you both hangout. He is the one who's slowly convinced Knockout to let loose and dance around to the music with you. TM biggest grunge supporter of the ship.

His favourite bands consist of

- Faith no more

- the smashing pumpkins

- limp bizkit

- powderfinger

- Spiderbait

Starscream: he doesn't understand the appeal nor is he a fan of the music but he will still suffer though it with little remark other than a few grumbles over calling it junk music, but deep down he does enjoy it but only I a tiny bit. Starscream is more into piano and organ. He loves different genres but if it has a piano in it he's automatically captivated. It's the old Vos senator coming out.

- Joe Hisaishi

- Elton John

- mozart

- Ludovico Einaudi

- Billy Joel

Megatron: Megatron as much for his snarl and growl over your 'human' music he doesn't really mind, but he won't admit that, he will enjoy listening to the grunge music on occasions softly in the comfort of his own quarters. It's not really to his taste but he does rather enjoy some of the lyrics.

Music taste for Megatron is funny because I see him enjoying things like, for him it's the lyrics more than the music itself but he would never let anyone know this was the type of music he indulges in.

- Kate bush

- The Wombats

- bastille

- of monsters and men

- Hozier

Shockwave: Shockwave is a strange one for he has no real interest in music he's interested in the effects it has on people the way they react to it. But he himself isn't interested in it, so he doesn't really react to your music. He lets you listen to it and he studies you, how you sing, dance and express yourself. (If it was Senator Soundwave it would be a very different case he'd be a kesha Fan and most like enjoy classical music too)

But for TFP shockwave i feel like he would listen to things that are educational and most times it's only until he has memorised it all.

The periodic table song, he has caught himself humming to when he wishes to remember one of the elements he needs.

____________

SOUNDWAVE

loud music blares from one of the observation desks, 'Best of you' by foo fighters can be heard, At the unexpected yet recognizable guitar riff emanating through his communications hub, Soundwave cycles a quiet ventilation as he turns from maintenance duties to move calmly toward the source of noise and nervous glances. Approaching the observation deck, his visor betrays nothing as optics alight upon the human seated amid controls, belting lyrics with unrestrained passion.

His field pulses gentle amusement even as He lowers the volume slightly. Leaning his massive frame close 'til his visor meets bright eyes. His fingers delicately tap rhythm against a polished table beside his assistant as silence finds its way back between songs.

"Awww why'd you turn it down? I was even speed typing!" They whine out.

"Come on Soundwave you enjoy my music don't try to deny it" the smug comment from them is teasing and aimed at him. Soundwave's visor flickers with a trace of amusement, a smile face flickers onto his visor.

" Volume exceeded safety tolerances for sensitive communication arrays. Appreciation for artistic expression acknowledged." The crude mix of recorded voice combined as One massive talon extends to delicately sweep an errant lock of hair from their smiling face. His free servo rests upon the large keyboard, slowly typing another quick report.

"Continuation of duties mandatory."

His thumb traces a tender caress of their cheek as he continues to work, watching over them as he does so.

"Can I please have it up just a little more, it helps me concentrate on work when I can listen to music" they ask while leaning into his touch, small cheek pressed into his servo.

At their request, Soundwave considers briefly through a gentle pulse of his field before dipping his helm in a nod. "Very well. However, monitor levels closely."

He leans close to peers with gentle scrutiny at their work display, enormous frame bending tenderly as if to shelter their focus.

A deep ex-vent whispers across their cheek and hair. They smile up at him, eyes sparkling in a way only organics do.

"Your the best you know that soundwave" it makes the Decepticon feel very smug hearing those words but he doesn't voice it, His Soundwave's visor brightens subtly as his field swells with pulses of unconditional pride. Inclining his helm in a slow nod, trying to get them to focus back on their work.

"Hey Sounds, I know cybertron probably has its own type of music but if you had to pick a favourite earth genre and artist who would it be?" They ask more out of curiosity. At the thoughtful inquiry, Soundwave's optics linger on them from behind the visor. Though alien to his kind, organic cultural forms have proven insightful in the creativity humans possessed.

After several nanokliks. "Energetic melodies and precise instrumentation suggest preferred categories termed 'Classical' and 'techno'. Composers eliciting strongest empathic resonance include Beethoven and daft punk through capacity to convey vast complexity and emotive depth often exceeding standard units of measurement." He states before they both continue work with a few questions passed between the two of them.

Knockout & Breakdown

'Break stuff' by limp bizkit blares through the medical wing, the sound of a welder can be heard along with singing from both Breakout and their Human assistant. "It's just one of those days!" They both sing out while they continue working on fix work. The human assistant continues welding as Breakdown works on checking that the Venicon being worked on was still in induced status.

Knockout raised an audio receptor as the sound blared through the medical bay, his visor flickering with surprise. He turned to see his Conjunx and their human assistant working together, the two of them singing along to the song. A smirk formed on Knockout's faceplate, finding the scene oddly amusing.

As Breakdown checked on the Vehicon, Knockout approached, leaning against a nearby table with his arms crossed. "Well, well, seems like you two are having quite the productive day," he commented, his voice filled with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

Breakdown glanced up from his task, a grin spreading across his faceplate. " Just trying to keep the energy up here," he replied. "You should join us! It's therapeutic, trust me."

Knockout chuckled, his optics flickering with amusement. "Oh, I wouldn't want to deprive you of your precious bonding time with our human," he replied, his tone dripping with playful sarcasm. "But keep up the good work, Breakdown. We've got quite the repair queue today."

He's all fixed up Breakdown" they call to the other bot.

Knockout's optics widened in mock offence at the human's comment, a playful pout forming on his faceplate.

"Seems like you've got quite the team going here, Breakdown," Knockout remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice. "But don't get too comfortable. We've got plenty more repairs to tackle."

The human flicks up their welding visor as they look to the doctor, "awww do you want me to put some Nine inch nails on for you after KO I know you enjoy them and Gaga" they call out which gets a snicker from Breakdown as he helps the human out of the Venicons chestplate.

"NIN, Gaga, and little ol' me? You know just how to make a mech feel special," he replied, his voice dripping with exaggerated charm. "But I must admit, their music does have a certain... appeal."

Breakdown chuckled at the banter, appreciating the light-hearted atmosphere in the medical bay. He moves towards Knockout who wraps his arms around the larger bot.

Knockout, still leaning into his Conjunx.

"No smooching in the Medbay!, save it for later lovebots!" They human yells while flinging a wrench at breakdown and Knockout, the wrench doesn't hurt either of them but Knockout hisses out about his paint. They move to their phone turning the bluetooth volume as 'Paralyzer' begins playing.

Knockout's optics widened in surprise as the wrench flew past him, narrowly missing its target. He instinctively ducked, his servo reaching up to protect his visage. A playful smirk formed on his faceplate as he looked at the human assistant, his voice filled with amusement.

"Watch the Paint!," Knockout shouts looking towards them,He glanced over at Breakdown, sharing a knowing look with his fellow Decepticon. The unexpected interruption only added to the lively atmosphere of the medbay

"Cheeky little scraplet," Knockout declared, his voice adopting a playful tone. And it makes Breakdown laugh, “don't let them catch you calling them that Red they'll have your helm” Breakdown whispers back to his lover.

Knockout and Breakdown resumed their work, the sound of their tools blending with the music. Despite the wrench incident, Knockout found himself appreciating the human's lively spirit and their ability to inject a sense of fun into their daily tasks.

As the songs continued to play, Knockout couldn't resist adding his own flair, busting out some dance-like moves in between repairs, Breakdown even taking a moment to spin him around. With every twist and turn, his frame exuded a confident charm, his vibrant personality shining through.

In that moment, the medbay transformed into a temporary haven of laughter, music, and productivity. The boundaries between Decepticon and human blurred, replaced by a shared enjoyment of the moment. And as they continued to work and dance, Knockout couldn't help but be grateful for the unexpected companionship and the vibrant energy their human assistant brought into their lives.

Starscream

Starscream loathed being put on pick up duties for the Decepticons 'pet' human as he declared them. He taps his claws against the tree trunk with a snarl.

It's another five minutes before they finally show up at the pick up point.

Starscream narrows his optics at the organic's dishevelled appearance. "You are late," he hisses, talons clenching impatiently against the tree bark. "And what is this...costume you've adorned yourself with? Have you been cavorting in primate rituals again?"

Scooping the human gingerly in his palm, Starscream brings them up to optic level for a more thorough scan. His faceplates curl in distaste at the myriad colours and textures now clinging to their garb.

"I care not what strange fashions the earthlings find appealing. But you represent the Decepticons in this rusting backwater. You will present yourself in a proper manner"

His tone holds a biting edge, though he is careful not to squeeze too tightly and damage his unwilling charge.

Setting the human down once more, he transforms in a whirr of joints, air brakes hissing. "Now Get in. I've wasted enough time already fetching you." His engines rev impatiently, prayer wings arched in a silent threat. Time to return to the Nemesis.

"Stars, I told you I had a concert tonight!, don't talk shit about my fit!" They state while flipping him off. They move to climb into the pilot seat, still humming along to some of the songs.

Starscream's optics narrow dangerously at the human's insolent gesture. "Watch your fleshy appendage, worm, before I remove it," he hisses. Nonetheless, he waits impatiently for the organic to strap into the seat before closing his cockpit windshield. As his flight engines roar to life, Starscream vents a derisive snort.

"A concert, you say? Bah. What pompous cacophony of noise making as 'music' among you humans?" Lifting off and banking sharply into the darkening sky, Starscream runs stealth diagnostics with his free systems. The organic's attire had indeed been outrageous, unbefitting one under Decepticon protection. Still, information is information.

"Now, out with it.?" His turbines whine expectantly, They let out a laugh. "Oh and I thought you weren't interested in the primitiveness of human society, you wanna hear about the music, drugs or amount of people who got hurt in the most pit?" They leaning back into his seat.

"Music, drugs, and injuries, you say? Now you have piqued my interest, fleshling. While your species' rituals hold little tactical value, So out with it, then - what lurid tales do you have to tell?" The two chat between themselves before Starscream asked his next question.

"What strange sounds passed for music among the masses? I assume it involved heavy percussion and vulgar vocals."

"It really depends on your taste Starscream, I happen to enjoy 90s Grunge, metal." They reply while pulling up 'Cannonball' by the breeders as an example. Starscream isn't impressed by it.

"Did cybertron have music? What did you enjoy listening too?"

Starscream considers the noisy music playing in his cockpit, wings twitching in distaste. "Your earthly 'grunge' leaves much to be desired in terms of musical structure and composition," he sniffs. "Though I will concede it matches the primitive aesthetic of your species."

At the human's question, Starscream's optics take on a distant gleam as he delves into memory files. "Cybertron was home to a rich culture and history before the wars consumed all. In the arena before battle, great artists would compose symphonies to inspire our skills and stir our sparks. Legendary musicians like Ironwing wrote anthems that could lift one's spirit even in the depths of the Pits."

His turbines sigh wistfully. "As for my own tastes...there was something majestic about listening to Polyhex Quartet in the archives of the Elite Guard. The way their harmonies echoed through the stacks, remnants of a Golden Age long fallen...it was easy to lose track of time, imagining nobler days."

Banking closer to the Nemesis, Starscream gazes toward the ship looking for his landing platform. "But that was vorns ago."

They hum as they lean forward resting their chin in their hands. "Any kinda human music you do like?" They ask, it was the most starscream had really talked with them, he seemed to enjoy it when people were open to listen.

Starscream considers the human's question, After several nano-klicks of thoughtful silence, he rumbles, "While most of your species' artistic offerings leave much to be desired, I did find some merit in the instrumental compositions of a 'Ludovico Einaudi.' His piano works featured a pleasant minimalism and emotional resonance that reminded me a bit of Polyhex Quartet's melodies from vorns past." As the seeker comes in for landing they quickly finish their conversation before Starscream begins walking off leaving them on the landing pad. “Come on then!” He calls out

Megatron

'Ever flow' by pearl Jam echo's through the Nemesis, and Megatron knows full well who was responsible for the music, his human companion, they had somehow convinced Soundwave to let them play music through the ship. As he approaches the command deck he can see the human sitting on the armrest of his throne-like seat. They look up at Megatron with a smile on their face.

Megatron loomed over the human sitting on his command throne, his optics flickering in irritation beneath his battlemask. "Explain yourself, fleshling," he rumbled. "Why have you taken liberties with my ship? The Nemesis operates according to my will alone." However, beneath his stern facade, Megatron felt a grudging admiration for the human's boldness. Few dared such freedoms amongst the Decepticons.

.

"It's really too quiet in here sir, I thought some music might help with work progress'' they state smugly knowing full well Megatron wouldn't do anything about it, he enjoyed their company too much. As the song continues to play his optics roam the ship taking in how all the Decepticons seem to be working quickly.

Megatron's optics narrowed at the human's insolent reply, but inwardly he conceded the point. A droning silence could sap even the most industrious of mecha. And perhaps this...experiment with music had merits he had not considered. His gaze swept the command deck, noting with grudging approval how the Decepticons laboured at peak efficiency under the strange sounds echoing through the Nemesis.

"You show promise, fleshling," rumbled Megatron. They nearly gasp as Megatron picks them up, holding them to his chassis as he walks out of the command deck with them in toe. They look up at him slightly worried. "Megatron I can change it if you like, I just thought Pearl Jam would be a decent band not too heavy or distracting" they state softly.

Megatron chuckled darkly as the human gazed up at him with concern, still clasped gently in his massive claw. " For now I have no complaints." He strode from the command deck, the human neatly tucked against his chestplate.

The next song that plays is 'monkeys gone to heaven' - by Pixies it's alot softer than the first song and Megatron finds he doesn't quite mind it, it's not the type of music he listened to on Cybertron but it was tolerable.

"Sir, did Cybertron have music?" They ask softly as he places them down on his desk of his hub suite.

Megatron felt his tension lessen ever so slightly as the softer music drifted through his audials. Not the proud martial hymns of Cybertron's past, but... tolerable from this alien creature. He lowered the human gently to his desk, regarding them thoughtfully as the question prompted memories of ages past.

"Indeed, Cybertron had its share of musical compositions," he rumbled. "Grand orchestral." His optics dimmed as he recalled theatre houses echoing with stirring choruses of advancement and glory. How far his once-great planet had fallen since those golden epochs.

"What did you like listening to?, my music taste isn't to everyone's liking but I'm intrigued. What did the great Decepticon leader listen to before he was a leader?" They ask while sitting down watching as he flicks through reports.

Megatron hesitated at the question, taken aback by their audacity. None dared inquire so freely into his past.

"Before the uprising, in Cybertron's golden age, my tastes ran to Cycles of Triumph, music that stirred the spark," he rumbled after a moment. "I was a gladiator then, and such works I found peaceful."

A clawed finger tapped thoughtfully on the arm of his throne. "Your music lacks such scope and poetic pull." His fiery optics regarded the human keenly.

"Is there anything you have listened to of earth music you happen to like?"

"There was one tune - 'Running Up That Hill', I believe the humans call it. Sung by a femme named Kate Bush. An...oddly compelling work."

His optics flickered as another memory surfaced. "And 'Greek Tragedy' by the Wombats - an enjoyable song about the fleeting nature of your species. The instrumentation was pleasing, and the lyrics reminded me of Cybertron's golden ages now lost, days I do sometimes miss."

Megatron fixed the human with a stern gaze. "But speak of this to no one. Your music has proven of some use, small creature, so I permit its continued playing for now. "

Shockwave

Shockwaves optic watches the human walk around the desk, headphones in as they dance to their music, they weren't even away when he was there, as they sing along to their music.

Shockwave observes the human with detached curiosity, analysing their behaviour and attempting to understand the appeal of their actions. The rhythmic movements and the joy displayed on their faces seem foreign to him, as he had never experienced such emotions himself. He analyses the human's clothing, noting the 90s grunge aesthetic and its significance in human culture.

As the human continues to dance and sing, Shockwave's attention is drawn to their carefree nature. It contrasts sharply with his own isolated existence and the weight of his scientific pursuits. He finds himself captivated by their uninhibited display of emotion, something he had only observed from a distance.

Curiosity piqued, Shockwave decides to engage with the human, partly out of a scientific interest in their behaviour and partly out of an unexplainable longing for connection. He approaches cautiously, his footsteps silent, as he stands by the edge of the desk. With a cold monotone, he interrupts their dancing.

"Human, your behaviour is perplexing to me. Explain the purpose of your actions and the emotions they elicit."

They let out a noise of surprise as they quickly remove their headphones. "shockwave!, sorry i didn't know you were back" they state sheepishly.

Shockwave's optic narrows as he observes the human's reaction, noting their surprise and subsequent apology. He remains silent for a brief moment, processing their response before speaking.

"There is no need for apologies. Your unawareness of my presence is inconsequential," Shockwave replies, his voice devoid of any warmth or understanding. "Now, answer my previous inquiry. Explain the purpose of your actions and the emotions they elicit."

The human shifts uncomfortably, their expression changing from surprise to slight unease. They hesitate for a moment before replying, "I... I was just listening to music and dancing. It's a way for me to express myself, to feel free and happy."

Shockwave processes their response, analysing the concept of expressing oneself through music and movement. He finds it intriguing, yet foreign, yet past memories linger for a life that was but a past memory. The emotions they mention, happiness and freedom, are unfamiliar to him these days, but he can sense a certain appeal in their description.

"Freedom and happiness," Shockwave muses, his monotone voice betraying a hint of curiosity. "These emotions are foreign to me. What purpose do they have?”

The human looks at Shockwave with a mix of surprise and sympathy. "Well, Shockwave, emotions are a complex part of being human, humans feel a lot and well music seems to ignite that in us."

Shockwave's single optic flickers as he processes the human's words, contemplating the idea of experiencing emotions. He remains silent for a while, lost in thought, before finally speaking, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

"I appreciate your perspective. It is a concept I will consider further. Thank you for enlightening me."

The human smiles warmly, offering a kind gesture. "Anytime, Shockwave."

Shockwave nods, his optic fixed on the human.

With that, Shockwave turns to walk away, his mind filled with newfound curiosity and lingering sensations under his plating. The encounter with the human has sparked something within him.

"Wait Shockwave" they call out trying to get his attention before the bot left to continue more studies.

Shockwave pauses in his tracks, turning his attention back to the human who called out to him. His optic narrows slightly, displaying a hint of curiosity as he regards them.

"What is it?" he asks, his monotone voice betraying no emotion. "Is there something else you require?"

"Do you listen to music?" They asked. They wanted to know if he did and if so what kind of music he enjoyed.

Shockwave's optic flickers briefly as he ponders the question. The concept of music as a form of entertainment is something he had observed but never actively engaged with himself. However, in his quest for knowledge, he had gathered data on various forms of human expression, including music.

"I do not listen to music, it has no benefits to my work," Shockwave replies, his voice devoid of any enthusiasm. "However, I have analysed and studied different genres of music as part of my research on human culture. It is an intriguing form of artistic expression. But have not ever listened for pleasure"

The human's face lights up with curiosity, their eyes shining with excitement. "I could play some music for you?, you might get an understanding of why humans like it so much” Shockwave hesitates for a moment, processing the human's offer. The idea of experiencing human music firsthand intrigues him. He nods, his optic narrowing slightly in response.

"Very well," Shockwave replies, his voice remaining monotone. "I am open to experiencing music in order to gain a deeper understanding of its appeal to humans. Please proceed."

The human grins and quickly moves to a nearby control panel, fiddling with buttons and switches until ‘head like a Hole’ begins to fill the room. The music flows through the speakers, enveloping the space with its riffs and rhythms.

As the music plays, Shockwave stands still, his optic focused on the source of the sound. He analyses the intricate patterns, the interplay of different instruments, and the emotions that the music is designed to evoke. And a memory flashes across his processor. His green and white features in a mirror as he sings along to music in his Laboratory, he had just been at a council session, Proteus had irritated him extremely and music helped him settle after the session. It's a fleeting memory of another life.

After a few moments, the human glances at Shockwave, their eyes searching for any signs of reaction. "What do you think, Shockwave?"

Shockwave pauses, his optic brightening for a brief moment before returning to its usual intensity. "Strange…" he states. He'd have to do more research into this.

#transformers #transformers x human #transformers x reader #transformers prime #megatron #Starscream #Knockout #tfp knock out #breakdown #breakdown tfp #soundwave x reader #soundwave tfp #soundwave transformers #shockwave #shockwave transformers

[lovemyromance]

Can people stop saying Elriels are changing Elain & Azriel's personalities to make their ship work?

First of all, SJM wrote a bonus chapter and 3 books of buildup in the background for Elriel already. We didn't just make up the fact that they're very into each other - SJM literally wrote that in the books.

We don't have to change anything about them. They are already attracted to each other and interested in each other in the text at this point.

Could we sit here and argue that Azriel sitting in the garden with Elain, Azriel sensing she's missing and in danger when the Cauldron kidnaps her, Elain looking to Azriel for comfort, Elain getting him solstice gifts, Azriel wanting to beg on his knees for a taste of her, Azriel giving her truth teller, Elain kicking the hounds off him, Azriel making everyone wait for her to eat dinner - We can sit here and argue and say those things are "strictly platonic" or "he's an incel who only lusts after her" (not sure how both can be true but okay). We can do that - but it won't change the fact that it is ON THE PAGE. THEIR MUTUAL ATTRACTION is IN THE TEXT.

Cool? Cool.

Next Point: Nobody is changing shit about Elain or Azriel.

It's like the antis saw one post about "oh Elain could be a cool warrior" all the way back in like 2015 and have held onto that like that one grainy af Elucien Facebook comment that one account keeps posting as responses to elriel posts (y'all know who im talking about right 😂).

Allow me to give you a refresher: It is currently 2024. Nobody is trying to make Elain be a warrior. I think most Elriels are of the opinion that we do NOT want ACOSF 2.0.

What we do want to see, is Elain potentially as a spy. AGAIN - not a warrior. This is not changing her personality. She is already a Seer - it is not a stretch to want to see her delve into her powers in the next book to use them to SEE and gather information. Elain is ready to help, she literally says "Find me when you wish to begin."

If people are complaining about fan arts where she's holding a dagger - I'm like 99% positive that dagger is truthteller and you cannot be complaining about an actual canon scene where she has been the only other person to touch that knife in 500 years, apart from Azriel. Not even Mor, his one time love, has touched that knife.

And Elain holding truthteller is in the official ACOTAR coloring book - BTW. So if you have an issue with Elain being depicted with a dagger - take it up with SJM's team.

Let's talk Azriel:

Genuinely not sure what people are saying we are changing about Azriel to better fit Elain?

People bring up the "oh he's too dark for Elain she will shy away from him" um. No. It's literally in the text how Elain calls his scars beautiful and does not balk from him.

Also .. what darkness? I did an entire post on what the hell is Azriel's darkness even and still, nobody had an answer for me because ??

We can't be reducing this man down to a job he took very very reluctantly and clearly hates. He doesn't like torturing people for answers, guys!! Y'all make it sound like his love interest can only work if she's his literal torture assistant or something 😭😭

"Hi azriel, you have a 11 o'clock coming in for the usual water boarding treatment." <tucks hair behind ear and nods earnestly> "and then afterwards, I will wash the blood off your knife and accept your darkness?"

Is that what y'all want 🤨🤨 don't be weird smh

Azriel says it feels wrong to touch Elain because HE FEELS UNDESERVING OF HER?? Have you never read a romance novel? The tortured hero being so reluctant to even touch his love because he's afraid his sins will taint her goodness??

Please people. Listen to like... a Hozier song before you try to understand this man because maybe then you might get a crash course on him. This man is so Hozier coded, it's insane to me that people think of him as some fuckboi incel.

Nobody is changing anything about Azriel and Elain. They are drawn to each other and understand each other without having to say a single word. Their love story is already starting out to be the healthiest: friends to lovers. They have been given a title: death & his lovely fawn.

Their very names mean Azriel "God is my help" or "Angel of Death" and Elain means "Light" or "Fawn" or "God has answered my prayers"

It's already on the pages and if you can't see the writing on the walls, perhaps it's time for a reread my friend.

#elriel #elain archeron #elain x azriel #pro elain #azriel #acotar #elain

[sophiethewitch1]

johnny x reader, drabble, mw3 spoilers, hospitals, chronic illnesses and injuries, can you tell I'm listening to too sweet by hozier, might make this into a full oneshot idk; 900 words

Thinking about Johnny meeting you in the hospital. He's at his lowest, sick and in pain. Bitter at being put out of the fight but thankful he's not a corpse, that the bullet didn't hit anything he was using inside his empty skull.

And then there's you. Another one of the patients, healthier than him but not by much. He sees you out the window of his room often, taking care of one of the small plots of the garden. Even though it obviously strains you, the nurses can't seem to convince you to give up. Every day, until one day you catch him watching you. Instead of telling him to fuck off, you give him a tired wave and a wide, toothy grin.

When he is eventually given the go-ahead to leave his bed, the first thing he does is nag Ghost into wheeling him out to the garden where you work. You're happy to meet the two of them, sweet. You invite them to stay and have tea with you. The next day when you catch Johnny watching again, you wave him down with an eager grin and a call of his name he doesn't hear. Ghost doesn't ask why Johnny makes visiting you a habit, but his eyes are knowing.

He gets better. You don't seem to. You don't talk about it, so Johnny doesn't press. Eventually, he's able to ditch the horrid wheelchair and spend time with you one-on-one. He doesn't have anything better to do, so he helps you garden. Pull out the weeds, water the flowers. Throws dirt at you when you're not looking. You in turn spray him with the hose. The two of you get lectured by the nurse nearby, heads bowed demurely as she rats you out for wetting his bandages.

He gets you back, of course. The next day your lecture is interrupted when you toss the mud caked into your hair right in Johnny's face.

The two of you spend hours chatting about the seeds you've planted, the vegetables you want to add to your sad hospital food. Eventually your conversations turn deeper. He talks of the wars he's fought, how he almost died. You tell him your war is internal. That you were born with a shitty body. That you'd spent so much time in and out of hospitals, you'd learnt to bring your hobbies with you.

One day, months and months later, a doctor says he should be ready to leave soon. Johnny finds himself shocked by the sudden despair he feels. He heads out to your spot, crouching down beside you as you work. You greet him with the same eagerness as usual, yammering on about your next plans for the bed. Johnny's silence eventually makes you stop. Concerned eyes rove over him, before asking what's wrong.

He tells you he's getting out soon. All you can manage is a quiet, 'oh'. After a minute's hesitation, you go back to weeding. Quiet this time.

The rest of the week is spent similarly quietly. Johnny tries to return your happy smile, cracking jokes and starting silly fights like the ones you always had. You can't manage to find the energy. Say you're just tired, that your illness is acting up. Johnny doesn't know if you're telling the truth. He wonders if the stress he's caused you made it worse, and he feels so guilty he almost pukes.

When his last day rolls around, he finds himself watching you through his window again. He knows you know he's watching you, but you refuse to even glance up at him. He can't help himself. He's back by your side in the garden even as he knows the guys are waiting to pick him up by the front desk.

You dig the shovel into the dirt with more anger than he's ever seen. So hard you're probably butchering the roots you've so delicately, lovingly cultivated. His hand reaches out, wrapping around yours, stopping you from causing any more harm. He pulls your hand to his, carefully prying open your hand. The shovel falls to the ground.

His fingers carve into yours, intertwining with your dirtied, grimy palms. He feels the granules between you, rough against your smooth, cold skin. You let him move you silently. Your fingers twitch against his, hand relaxing into the garden bed.

His other hand finds your chin, turning it so you're staring at him, into his stunning blue eyes. The hand moves so he's cupping your face. There's tears running down your face, wetting his palm. He's not sure who's the one who moves. He thinks it's him. In the end, his lips are pressing to yours, the kiss soft and sweet and slow and sad. You move against him with a desperation he's felt for you since he first saw you. When his tongue slips between your lips, and you let out a sickeningly sugary sound, he's glad you feel it too. When your hand grips his tight in your dirt, he knows that no matter what the doctors say, no matter what his body can do now, he can't really leave you. Not truly.

The next day, he applies for a visitor's pass, and again, you kiss each other in the garden. The nurse nags him for getting you all dirty. The joke he makes gets him an elbow from you. And Johnny thinks, thank god he got shot in the head.

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #141 x reader #cod x you #cod imagine #call of duty x you #johnny x reader #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #idk what this was i just got possessed by the spirit of hozier this morning

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

Like Real People Do - Part 1

Masterlist Word count: 1.9 k Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Summary: Arthur Morgan doesn't quite feel like a person sometimes. Most days he's just an outlaw, a killer, a thief, a bad excuse for a good time. He's been doing this so long; he isn't even sure if he ever wanted to do anything else in life. That is until a barmaid asks him to walk her home and suddenly he gets a slice of normalcy.

Author's note: I can't for the life of me figure out why it won't let me post my whole stories on here. If anyone knows why, please let me know what I need to do.

'What can I get ya, mister?' Arthur grumbles in response before looking up at the barmaid. She looks too clean, too kind, to be here. She smiles and he hears angels singing. Cheeks rosy red, eyes like gemstones, she's pure. But she has the scars to prove she's been her a while. He notices the callouses on her hands, the scars on her arms, and the big scar running vertically through the left side of her lips to her jaw.  'Don't matter. Anything to take the edge off,' he tells her, his words raspy like crumpled up paper. She smiles a little brighter and puts a glass in front of him that she fills with bourbon.  'That should help,' she states and slides the glass over to him. He nods a thanks to her and tries to peel his eyes away to look over the bar. It's quite empty this time of day, then again, morning ain't really the time to be drinking. When he can't find anything to keep him entertained in the saloon, he looks back over to the barmaid, who is cleaning glasses in front of him with a rag that is cleaner than he has ever seen one in this particular saloon. She glances over at him. 'What brings you this early in the morn’?'  'Rough night.'  'I can imagine,' she says with a chuckle.  'Hey sweet cheeks! Can we get another bottle?' Arthur's head snaps towards the two men in the corner who so rudely interrupted their little talk, if you can even call it that. They look beyond drunk, beyond caring. But, the barmaid does as asked and brings them a bottle. 'Yeah, that's what I'm talking about,' the grimey man says when she puts the bottle down. He stands up and pulls the barmaid into his chest, groping what he can for the split second he has her before Arthur pulls him off. Like it's nothing, he pushes the man back into his chair.  'Listen here friend, I do not care about you. I do not care that you are here, I have no quarrel with you. But disrespect the lady and you have got a fight on your hands. Friend. Behave, or I'll make sure that that is your last drink.'  'Are you threatenin’ me mister?'  'No, simply making a promise.' Arthur puts his hand on the small of the barmaid's back to lead her back to the bar. She walks back behind it with a bit of shock still lingering on his face and he returns to his drink.  'Thank you mister.'  'No problem.' 

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan angst #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic #rdr 2 fanfic #rdr 2 fanfiction

[localcapricosimp]

So I was ORIGINALLY going to be making a Twst HC list of the characters' music taste but I exhausted all my brainpower for that after editing a 37 minute long shitpost mini movie that was a Twst version of William Shakespeare's Hamlet and called it Hamleona (THIS WAS FOR SCHOOL) so my creative juices ran a little dry. So instead I shall be listing who I think their favorite musicians/bands would be.

Disclaimer: This is only going over the NRC students because that's all the energy I have for this shit. (Thank you, Hamleona, for sapping the life out of me you little fuck-)

Heartslabyul:

Riddle - Does he even know what music is.../j he probably really likes Florence and The Machine tbh...he just doesn't let anybody know

Ace - Weezer and AJR (I am so sorry 🙏)

Deuce - He strikes me as a Paramore listener

Cater - Madonna, Meghan Trainor, TWICE, Ariana Grande and Taylor Swift

Trey - Dolly Parton

Savanclaw:

Leona - Hozier, Conan Gray, Gorillaz, Michael Jackson, Billy Idol, Billy Joel, Noah Kahan, the Weeknd, Ciara and Elton John (when I tell you I have been ITCHING, CLAWING AT THE WALLS to say that I think Leona is a Hozier fan-)

Ruggie - Bruno Mars and the Weeknd

Jack - Sam Tinnesz and Blackbear

Octavinelle:

Azul - Gotye

Jade - Ed Sheeran (in an ironic way! i literally can't think of anybody for Jade please HELP WHO WOULD THIS MAN LISTEN TO!?!)

Floyd - FLOYD IS DEFINETLY A WEEZER FAN AND NOBODY IS TELLING ME OTHERWISE

Scarabia:

Kalim - Nicky Youre (and if you don't know who that is: Sunroof)

Jamil - Give me ideas for him I don't have any other than Pink Floyd but that doesn't feel right omg-maybe Rihanna I'm not sure tbh!!

Pomefiore:

Vil - Lady Gaga, Beyoncé, Reneé Rapp, Red Velvet, Chung Ha, Sunmi, Carrie Underwood (trust me on this one!), Taylor Swift, Sabrina Carpenter and Dua Lipa

Epel - Rascal Flatts and The Charlie Daniels Band

Rook - If Vil likes the artists, Rook likes the artists. But lowkey...why can I see him bopping to Demi Lovato...

Ignihyde:

Idia - Twenty One Pilots

Ortho - Okay hear me out...Daft Punk

Diasomnia:

Malleus - Okay so this was a tough one since I don't know how he would get access to a radio or anything that plays music becaue he's a little goofy with technology BUT HEAR ME OUT!!! I feel like he'd really get into The Temptations (if you don't know who they are they were a group from the 50s) and Tina Turner because why not!!

Silver - He seems like he'd listen to Alec Benjamin tbh!!!

Sebek - If Malleus likes the artists, Sebek likes the artists.

Lilia - ....pulls out Metallica album.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland hc #riddle rosehearts #ace trappola #deuce spade #cater diamond #trey clover #leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #jack howl #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #floyd leech #kalim al asim #jamil viper #vil schoenheit #epel felmier #rook hunt #idia shroud #ortho shroud #malleus draconia #silver twisted wonderland #sebek zigvolt #lilia vanrouge #i'm so ill #i have no energy left in my body help #i wrote this listening to Red Velvet am I just a nerd...

[laguezze]

PAC: Characteristics of your FS

This is for or all the people with intention to marry or have a long term relationship. Next up will be a soulmate characteristic PAC. I decided to split it in two to get more details!

Now onto the PAC!

Here are the piles!

Pile 1

Pile 2

Pile 3

Pile 4

Ready? Let's go!

Pile 1

This person is a rebel. Might be a bit hypocritical about it. Like they might come from money but decide to live out their best broke musician dreams while still living in their rich dad's apartment that he bought for them. That's just one case example, take it as it resonates.

This person loves to keep appearances, they love to be in control of how people perceive them. I'm seeing they want to be taken seriously.

Long, messy, brown, curly hair. Middle part is possible.

North America, Australia, Oceania, Hawaii, UK.

Dainty eyes?, Blue eyes, light eyes.

Not too defined features but also not ugly. Might be what people call "medium ugly" for some of you. Nothing too shocking about their features.

Musician, plays guitar, indie music taste, 420 friendly? Nirvana (the band), big social life, plaid shirts, leather jackets, bad boy persona, baddie aesthetic, motorbike, cigarette, old school lover, 70s aesthetic and fashion.

Pile 2

This person is very much hypocritical, they don't know what they want in life. Very much lost with their career and family life. You might help guide them.

They definitely have unconventional dreams like opening up a tea shop, or flower shop. Which is fine, but I'm seeing they want to do that for the wrong reasons. Very easily manipulated person, it'll be frustrating for you to see. But they'll get better with your help probably.

Probably from any capitalist country. Take that as you will.

Light eyes or medium eyes but not dark. Downturned eyes.

Short hair, pixie cut, wolf cut.

Wears bandanas, baggy clothes, long skirts, hippie style, boho aesthetic, activist. Necklaces and bracelets, lots of jewelery in general.

(sorry it's a bit short, your person wasn't too specific with the looks but rather with the personality)

Pile 3

You guys got yourselves a romantic, old school, kinda person. They probably listen to music from the 50s and 60s and jazz, lots of jazz. Might love to take things slow and smooth. Doesn't like running late to things and is always calm and early. Very collected person, never a hair out of place. Always is composed. They might have been different before they met you. They probably were chaotic and funny before they met you but something happened that made them this sophisticated, chic person. You might need to bring the fun in them back, I'm hearing. Might be a judgy individual.

Latinx, Hispanic, Southern Europe, North America (East Coast)

Brown eyes, very deep set eyes, intense gaze

Short hair, very short for men, curly hair, either Brown or dirty blonde.

Long eyelashes, very pretty features. Either small nose or large nose, no in between; defined face, high cheekbones.

Medium height, slightly muscular.

60s, 50s music and fashion, coffee and tea lover, might be a cook or love to do it, kitchen lover, architecture fanatic, probably loves house decor and renovation, secretive, mysterious, romantic, candle collector.

Pile 4

(idk i swear this is not Hozier themed, there's just something about him present here)

"imagine being loved by me"

This persoooon omg. So pure hearted. Truly has the best intentions at heart. They literally are sunshine personified. They radiate light, like their smile lights up a room and they always look clean and cheerful. The type of person everyone likes. No one ever dares say anything negative about them and if they do, it's because of jealousy.

They might have a lot of pretty privilege that makes this effect happen. Like if this person was a 6/10 (conventional attractiveness scale) their personality wouldn't be as appreciated. But because they're so beautiful inside and out, it shines through. I'm getting they realize this privilege and it rubs them the wrong way sometimes but they won't fight against it because it's helping them with their goals.

North America, Sweden, Finland, etc, Northern Europe and UK.

Blonde hair, short hair, curly hair, honey hair.

blue eyes, light eyes, almond shaped eyes

Bunny pretty (that one TikTok trend ifykyk), slim, short, cherubin look (if you don't know what that is, think cupid angel type of beauty), white clothes, flowy dresses, short eyelashes, defined jawline, big smile, straight teeth, bunny teeth, cardigans.

Hope it resonates for all of you!!! 💕

#tarot readings #tarot #free readings #tarot blog #free tarot reading #pick a card #tarot pick a card #tarot pick a pile #pick a pile #Spotify

[yourgirlniki]

Jackie and Wilson

"For whatever poor soul is coming next"

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x f!reader

3k words

Tags!: No use of y/n, fluff, down bad Johnny MacTavish, not completely canon accurate Soap, first fic! 😎👍

A/N: This is based on Hozier's song Jackie and Wilson - I'm thinking I want this to be the beginning of a collection of one-shots based on his songs, depending on my free time! But again, first fic so please any comments would be greatly appreciated! Was nervous to post but ya only live once Hope you enjoy!

The cushion on the back of the booth wasn’t the most comfortable thing ever. The deep red bump didn’t do much to help an aching back, more of a thing that somewhat fixed the posture of those who sat at it. But who goes to a bar for comfort anyway? Dingy bars aren’t the first place most people would think to go back to after nearly dying halfway across the world.

The sticky floors, the mesh of posters and old mementos hanging on the brick walls. The neon lights, the potent smell- its headache inducing and you don't even have a hangover yet. And there are too many people in here, crowding pool tables and the small dance floor, (if you can even call it that), to be called someplace one would go to calm down and relax.

This is a fact that is true for most people.

But most people aren’t military. Even fewer are SAS.

And absolutely none are John MacTavish.

The man who idolizes the chaotic ways of the world above all else. That’s what has him still in the job quite frankly. The chaos, the ability to live and thrive in an insane environment. For someone like him, these things never truly bothered him. In an odd sense, the smell of alcohol, sweat and far too many bad ideas feel closer to home than he’s been in a few months. A comfort that most don't understand. But he does.

So even as exhaustion tries to take hold, the scott wears a signature giddy smile, adds a seemingly impossible pep to his step, and he drags the 141 into a back table, somehow always energetic. Even after practically wasting away in a desert for the past 3 months, he has energy. It’s honestly absurd.

Even worse is that he always finds a way for that energy to become contagious. As much as his teammates joke and grumble about it, Johnny was their way of restoration, to push forward. He would choose a shitty bar, and even shittier alcohol over a quiet apartment or the pile of paperwork that had to get done at some point. And so, the boys would too. Even if they hid it behind the facade of “babysitting” the grown man.

So now, here they sat, against the trashy cushions, with crappy music, in the dimly lit bar, with smiles and a sense of belonging. They call it a “celebration” of a mission well done, a nod to their success. Definitely not an excuse to just drink the night away, to get the mission out of their heads for a bit. To laugh with comrades and just be… domestic? Is that right? Close enough.. Yeah? Finding their small slot back into normal society.

Don’t get him wrong, Johnny loves his job. Loves what he does, but who doesn’t want to just have a drink at a bar with his mates every once and a while? And that's why he has his third beer in his hand and is snorting and a story Gaz is telling about one of his most recent hookups. A lady who was.. “Bloody crazy! I mean it. Seemed nice at first but don't be fooled, she was insane!”

Yeah, this is home. It’s where he belongs, where he wants to belong, he thinks. With his men, in the middle of nowhere chatting about anything and everything. Confiding in and teasing each other. He trusts them with his life, he can trust them to listen when need be. And yet… there is always that ache. The strange pull in moments like these like something is still missing. It’s been happening more often lately. And it's like an itch Johnny can't scratch. A puzzle piece he can't find but is still absent mindedly searching for. The only issue is he doesn't know what it is, that it just- isn't.

The chatter fades to a muffled sound in the scotts ears for a moment as he lets out a small, genuine smile looking at his group, sipping at the drink in his hand as his forearms lay themselves on the table, hands clasping. Taking a moment to truly thank whatever may be pulling the strings. Bringing him and his boys to safety. And maybe even a small prayer to tell him what the odd nagging in his brain is about. He takes a breath and relaxes, just for a moment. Looking around the bar, truly just admiring the world around him, the bustle of it all, the people with their own lives and ambitions.

How was he supposed to know that was a fatal mistake on his part?

He couldn’t. He didn’t.

He found out a second to late, registered it after he knew he was done for. It was one moment, a mistake, a pause, that would stick with him for as long as it dared. It was a magnet, an invisible force that pulled his very being toward it. The moment he nearly drooled his drink out from his now slack jaw.

Because when his eyes connect with the woman walking through the door, he swears time stopped.

Suddenly, the crappy bar didn’t smell as bad, the music wasn’t too loud, the cushion no longer made his back ache, the room got brighter just from her smile. The very ground shifted, and not in the drunken haze way. He warmed up, eyes wide. A thought process that if he opened them more he would see more. God, it felt like getting a cavity by now, she felt too sweet to even look at.

In a single moment the world shattered around him, everything he knew was thrown out a window, as his mind was occupied by one thought only.

It was only a moment… but by then he knew he was fucked, utterly and completely.

Fate or destiny, call it what you may. An answered prayer, an utter coincidence. It didn’t matter. The bar turned into a museum, a place to observe and admire as his eyes widened impossibly more as his head tilted watching her move. A giggle slipped under his breath as he thought he could be mistaken for Ghost at this point, with his starring.

But your pull, it was undeniable. Even the thought of looking away would cause you to vanish in a blink, never for Johnny to see again. And he couldn’t have that. Not when it was astonishing in the way you simply were.

It only got worse as your group got closer to theirs. A mere table away. When you first walked in it was a trap, a line that was cast into his pond and he was falling for the bait. Confidence is something he is used to in his line of work, but it was usually the cocky kind. The kind that made him want to kick a recruits teeth in for. But you were something different entirely. You demand attention, even if you didn't know it. A high held head, a testament to the world that you were there, and you were aware of it. Thank god it was his attention it demanded, because it was nothing short of a miracle.

The air you lived in became breathable, spreading to his little corner of the bar as he had to remind himself to actually inhale and exhale as he took in the sight over and over again. Committing it to memory. The world became a movie, a fictional place where he wasn’t. One he could only watch and revel in. It was the type that you knew was going to be good before it even began. The one you had been anticipating for and knew wouldn’t disappoint. His heart rate picked up, the same way it would in the field, but in a much less stressful manner now. Jesus, what was happening to him? You must have cursed him. That’s it. The only explanation. Bewitched by not only the view, but the melody of your laugh flooding his ears now at the closer proximity. Leaning against a standing table with a glass in hand, head slightly tilted enough that a stray hair fell to cover your face.

It was comical the way his heart sped up, watching as you chatted with your own group. Something so normal, something you see every single day, was making the big strong man’s hard race like it life or death. And he knew life or death.

Romeo had nothing on him.

Absolutely nothing in the way his brain knew he was to be yours. It had to be, he had to be. It’s how the story will be written, and he will play his role. Stealing your hear that way you have entranced his own. He wouldn’t be able to tell you when he got up. He can’t tell you how his body moved on its own, knowing what needed to be done but not conscious enough to alert his brain.

What he can tell about how perfect it felt to so much as stand there by you. Soaking in your presence was one thing, standing in it next to you was another entirely.

And that's how he found himself face to face with you, who turned to him with a puzzled look, but a kind smile.

He was a goner.

“Oh… umm- Hello, can I help you?” Is all you had to say to him to confirm his every thought. This woman could heal every wound with her voice alone. And her eyes so much as finally looking back at him felt like he was seen for the first time in his life.

“Uhh.. sir? Are you alright?” Your voice rang out again, pulling him back to reality as you hand waved in front of his face slightly. A flattering smile on our lips and your eyebrows furrowed slightly, almost concerned. What came over John MacTavish in that moment is unexplainable.

“I seem to have lost my number—can I have yours?”

Her eyebrows raised. She blinks. Then tilting her head slightly.

He could die right then and there.

Leaning against the table next to her with a stupid, crooked smile and a raised eyebrow, as if he didn't just embarrassed the hell out of himself. A pick up line? That's the best you could do, John? Really? Welp, there goes every chance you had, cut your losses and- Laughter chimed in his ears like wedding bells. And that’s when he froze, every negative thought draining him as he became light. You laugh was intoxicating more than any drink or drug. The kind that was unapologetic and genuine. The kind that has the back of your palm finding your lips as you cover your giggles, nose scrunching and eyes squinting due to the smile. One that made both of you have pink cheeks for different reasons. A joke that probably shouldn't have been laughed at, but coming from the man before you, it eased the tension in the air.

It must have been the prettiest sight Johnny had ever seen.

He doesn’t know how he did it, probably because it wasn’t him at all. Must have been pure luck that after that horrible entrance she seemed kind enough to humor him that night. He bought you a drink and hung on every word you so much as muttered in his direction. You laughed at every joke, good or bad. He made it his mission to make sure he always heard that laugh from then on. To produce it from you.

Oddly enough, it turns out you were one of few words when it came to the actual conversation. And yet it was never rude, ore quiter nature. But more like you were always listening. Every word John rambled on about you picked up, asking questions or simply nodding, expressing your thoughts in your facal expression. Because of this, it seemed like he never looked away from you either, not that it was a bother, it was strangely alright. It wasn’t judgemental, only observant.

He thought he might go buy a ticket for the lottery after you agreed to give him your number by the end of the night. He was more smitten than he’s ever been, and on the dates to follow the swooning only got worse.

Every moment with you felt exhilarating, like he found that missing piece finally after a long search. And that piece loved him back He was insufferable, always gushing about the woman he has the opportunity to take out on a date. And the dates where nothing less of spectacular. The pair was stupid like teenagers in love, but more sentimental, understanding the weight of things better. Arguments never lasted long and if they did they were cleared up before any damage was done. She understood what his job ment to him, and told him she would never make him change that about himself. It was his passion, she can share.

“Just so long as you promise to come back to me.”

And from that day forth he would make a pinky promise every time he left. He was to come home. Time passed quickly, in flashes. It felt like his life went from downtime in between missions, to missions in between downtime. His heart ached for you in the days he was gone, but he always knew he would be home. He would see you again. He found a want to live, even more now that he found his world.

And as time passed them by, he found out she was perfect in the all the ways he could dream of. Especially in the impossible task of calming him down as well. Rough mission? She already had his favorite meal ready and was soothing him over. Nightmares? She was there either on the phone or more recently next to him to hold him and run her fingers through his hair. To much energy? To rowdy? You always found a way to settle him down. His anchor. And he would do the same for her if the day presented itself.

Another plus that made it all that much more, everyone liked you.It wasn’t hard too of course, but it proved even moreso how lucky he got. His family adored you, his sisters taking you in as part of the family already, much quicker than any of his other past relationships. It made him well up with pride.

Even when he officially introduced you to the 141, it was with open arms as well. If he wasnt a unit before, he absolutely was one now. Maybe just a tad bit more annoying with his bragging but of course he brags. Those boys knew how much you were doing for him, and you knew they were keeping him safe. It was a harmony that both sides respected.

A part of him knew that even if all of those people didn’t like her, (an impossible feat if he does say so himself), nothing would change for him. You were his, he was yours. Irrevocably and absolutely. If the world didn’t want them, the world wasn’t for them. Simple as that. Life became sweeter, dreamlike as he fell into a comfortable rhythm. It was almost unbelievable, no, it was unbelievable.

One day, as he was laying on the couch, laying gently on you, nearly dozing off. Then he felt your hand on his shoulder, a soft pat that made him stir but not move as he hummed in response. “Johnny?” You said, soft enough that he had to stir slightly closer to your voice. But he didn’t look up, kept his heavy eyes shut as he mumbles a small “what?”

“Earth to Johnny..” Hmm, that's odd. It mde him sit up the slightest bit more. Must have been laying on his ear wrong, your voice sounded weird. And another pat on his shoulder, a bit harder this time.

“MacTavish!”

And then he blinked. He was sitting up straight, eyes wide as he made eye contact with his Captain across from him, in the same place he left him at the bar. The bar? His cheek stung from the movement of no longer resting on… his palm? His? No that’s not right. His head hurt slightly as the smell of bar flooded his nose. What was he doing in a-

“Soap, you alright? You were out for a bit. Staren’ at nothing.” Gaz said with a smile, slightly concerned.

He looked around, baffled as he took in the same dingy bar he had met you in. In fact in the same spot exactly, same clothes, same drink. Hold on, that can't be right. His head swung back around as he took in the table next to them was, empty. Bottles and cups discarded to the side, napkins crumpled. He heard the bar door shut as his eyes flicked over and spotted the same woman walk away outside, smiling the same as she was before. Only then did it make sense.

His mind filled in the blanks for him as he rubbed his face with a groan. When something is too good to be true, it's probably because it is. Gaz was patting his back as Ghost and Price shared a look that had Price hiding a smirk. But it didn’t matter to Johnny.

What mattered was she’d already left.

The boys decided that's where the night should end, Johnny's head almost embarrassingly hung low as they paid their bill and called a car to take them back to base. This is the first time Scott has sulked in a while, running his hands through his mohawk as he kicked himself for being so stupid. Caught up in a daydream of a random woman at the bar, what a stupid fantasy to get caught in. he was practically mourning something he doesn't even have, never did have. And now something he wouldn’t have either.

The moment changed his life for sure, a memory of fake memories that will haunt his little brain every once in a while when he's bored and remembers this night.

#john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #cod #cod x reader #new fic #first fic #cod mw2 #soap cod #soap x reader

[ghouljams]

Hi! I'm absolutely in love with your Viking!Soap, and I read that ask about Hozier. I, like one of the comments, thought about Foreigner's God. I fucking live for the yearning, and having Soap desperate for the reader, not only because of her, but also beacuse of what she means (the only person who understands, his culture, his languaje, his beliefs, his past, his identity) gives me life.

Imagine something happens to her. She gets hurt, or sick, or kidnapped, or lost or whatever. And Soap is left, yet again, with this bunch of people who talk a rough language, who have another vision of the world. And yeah, he's been living with them, like them, for quite some time. But it feels like losing his home all over again. And he's so desperate.

He's not proud, but one night, after too many others wide awake, scared, angry and alone, he prays. He's already prayed to his gods. Already asked for help. Already begged. There's been no answer. So, despite the fact that he can't express the depth of his despair in this barbaric other language, he prays to gods that aren't his. Gods he doesn't fully believe in.

It feels like a betrayal.

But it would feel like a betrayal too if he didn't beg for your life to anyone who may listen. Anyone who might help.

He's thankful in a universal way when he learns you're okay.

Augh, yeah, the absolute yearning that Soap carries with him. He's left his home behind and joined his new brothers in the 141, but he still remembers the old songs, still prays to his gods, still keeps his family's traditions. I think this an interesting point too, towards viking culture, because they weren't exactly assimilationists and they weren't evangelists either. Soap is wholly welcome to keep his traditions and religion, the 141 isn't going to push him to join their church or forget his home. In my mind all of them have their own pieces of culture from outside of their newly shared home.

And yet despite this Soap is still somewhat of an outsider. He's the last of his kind, the only one left to tell his stories in this strange new land full of strange new people. He doesn't look down on their gods, or their culture(this is a very Christian thing to do...) but they don't feel like they're his. Parts of them maybe, but all of it? No. The vikings he works with and loves, the men he breaks bread with, aren't warring barbarians, they're people with jobs, men who are honor bound to serve their village in this particular way. They're warriors that saved Soap from the path he'd been walking, and he respects them.

AND YET. And yet. He is culturally alone. Even the reader is not exactly a match to him. They speak the same language, but their clans, their villages, their values, have clear differences. Their gods have different names. Their mothers sang different songs. Their lives were altered in similar fashions, but they way they grieve is fundamentally different. But... he still clings to them. They're as close as he can get. He doesn't have Gaz's transplanted family, doesn't have Ghost's cousin-culture, doesn't have Price's "born and raised here" claim. He has one person who might take some of the burden of loneliness, and they hate him.

He prayed to any god that would listen to give him back everything he lost, and they never heard him. The only people that heard him were the 141, and they tried to fill in the gaps. Gave him the things he needed to keep going, and begin again. He'll never be able to repay them for that. So you will have to excuse Soap his assimilation.

#ghoul speaks #viking au #sorry this was more meta analysis than anything else #john soap mactavish

[f1-giuki]

casual by chapell roan, smut (u can add angst if u want it's a lil angsty), lestappen <3316

Hi darlinggggggg💖💖💖💖 Honestly yesterday I was listening to the rise and fall of a Midwest princess and it was so good, so this is very much spot on!!!! I have added also De Selby (part 1) by Hozier for the angst! I think they fit nicely together!

so here's you're lestappen drabble!!! hope you like it!!!!! 💖💖💖💖

casual - de selby (part 1) - prompt post

Max looks at Charles' sleeping figure and sighs with a sad smile. That's a moment he'll never relieve again. It's the fruit of forgetfulness and it won't come back ripe in his hands. It's already rotting under Max's remorse.

Max can look only when the whole world is asleep, surrounded by darkness, so that nobody will see the light of love in his eyes.

Max thinks not even God could bear such a life. He's the one who created Charles and put him on this Earth, maybe he's in the same position Max is, with a too-good fruit in his hands and the path to Hell carefully mapped out.

Charles' soft features are smoothed out by the bliss of sleep, and yet, so calm and pretty, they can't utter a word of help to Max's wild heart. He takes a glimpse at the pond, where the virgins wait for Spring to come, but his face is broken, reflected in thousands of shards. He can't see himself.

The point is that Max feels like he takes and takes and takes when he fucks Charles on the hood of his Ferrari, in his garage, his moans echoing red against his Red Bull trophies, but he's the one losing bits of himself among the sheets.

Max thinks Charles gets off when he slaps his face next to the second championship trophy on his bedside table. The empty one. The one Kelly left. Left for Charles is left unsaid, loudly in Max's brain.

Max feels like a monster shutting up Charles, pressing his face on the mattress or filling his mouth with his fingers. He's a monster because he wants so much, knowing that's the one thing he can never have or win.

But the words Charles whispered in his ear when he found out he was alone are branded like cattle marks on his brain. “Now that you're free, wanna have some real fun?”

Fast, passionate, bleeding fun. Everywhere, every time. On Max's couch, in Charles' car, in the bathroom of Charles' mother's apartment, while she cooked them lunch and waited for pasta to cook, on the phone with one of Charles' brothers. 

Max knows it's not casual, for him, when he sinks his nails in Charles's hips, marking and scratching like a rabid dog, marking his territory, praying to God that when Charles comes back home to his girlfriend she'll see him, leave Charles to him.

Max feels like a monster for wanting all the time, and hating Charles at the same time. He hates that “Baby, no attachment,” when Charles' dick is twitching down his throat, shooting his load in Max at the thought of having him at his disposal. Max hates loving power imbalances, knowing he wants but could never have that.

Max loves being so stupid to know about Charles' family, receiving worried calls from Arthur about his future and buying Lorenzo's favourite padel brands. Is it casual still when Joris challenges him to get the wag of the year trophy? 

Is it casual still, when Charles' clothes are in his washing machine and his housekeeper folds them in a neat pile in his dresser, where her things used to be?

Max knows it's not, although Charles is free and bright, he comes to him like darkness at sunset, beautiful and morbid as he takes his hand and places it on his throat.

They feel so entangled Max doesn't know where he starts and where Charles ends, where his paradise staircase became a slide to hell.

Max thinks he can hate, but then he sees that golden plane of skin under his pale fingers, he can't grab the brakes anymore and shall brace for impact.

He is cursed by love herself.

#lestappen #lestappen fic #ao3 #lestappen smut #lestappen angst #f1 rpf fic #lovely caro