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bunny584 · 2 months

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OBSESSED: FUSHIGURO

A/N: OH. MY. GOD. Anon. I love you and hate you for this request. This was…hard. I told myself I wouldn’t publish it unless it was fucking perfect (you should see the scalpels I took to each goddamn sentence before this version).

SECOND: I will square up with Gege for writing the most enigmatic, LAYERED, complex, muddled character to exist. I wanted this to be Megumi. Through and through. His darkness, his light, his reservation, his crazy, all in one. And IDK. I think I did it? This one is purely to prove to myself that I can write for characters that are hard to write for (*cough* yuta im glaring at you *cough*)

THIRD: if you do read this (I get people feel things about aged up characters etc), I implore you to listen to this. Guys. I heard this at 0200 IN THE OR during a 6 hour case and the entire concept for this came to me. Meg is sophisticated and unruly, selfless and selfish, etc. So this has some NSFW but definitely probably more on the poetic, long ends of my works.

CW: Aged up characters (20+), college AU, fluffy/raunchy/dark romance-y because LOOK at him. He takes after Gojo AND Toji. Mature, 18+

“You like it when I’m rough.”

Megumi’s melody rings crystal clear.

Low.

Precise.

An F-14 Tomcat fighter jet, flying dark. Below enemy radar.

The piano keys float beneath his tone. His long, slender, deft fingers effortlessly execute the sheet music before him. It’s his GPS system, a personal flight map.

Little Beethoven, his advanced music theory professor calls him.

Truth is, Megumi is a prolific pianist and vocalist. He can tame any note, any melody, any harmony faster than any of his Shikigami.

Speaking of…

Megumi pulls off the piano and tortured love song in an instant. Just as the grade 3 curse creeps through the open door.

The part between his right long and ring fingers is automatic. His left hand grips the web space between his right thumb and index finger.

“Demon dog.” Megumi summons.

Low. Precise. Decisive.

“Eat it, boy.”

A small, approving smile tugs on the corners of his lips. Low level curses are the nothing more than chew toys to his divine dogs. With a tiny wave of his fingers, his technique buzzes inward.

Megumi’s eyes float to the ancient analog clock on the wall.

13:50

10 more minutes until you’ll meet him for your date.

No. Not date.

Study. 10 more minutes until you’re meeting him to study.

Your thought blooms within him like wildfire. It sets his normally cool, porcelain skin ablaze.

Megumi whips his body around to face the piano. To exorcise the feeling. The keyboard has always been his outlet. His life blood. Playing, singing, musing in and out of written songs is his catharsis.

Words don’t come easy. They never have. But lyrics do.

And when he gets to ride lyrics with his voice, his runs..?

The words he can never find on his own are suddenly out there. In the atmosphere. Coating empty rooms in a mist of his thoughts, his feelings.

No certain promise that the person the words are destined for will ever catch them. Or ever walk through the room and be kissed by the remnants of his musical trail. But Megumi has said (sung, played) them. And that’s enough.

“Sorry if I come across a type of way.”

“I’ve been trying to get out of my way…”

His fingers dive into the keys. Angrily. Earnestly.

“I know it doesn’t seem like I care, but you know I care—“

“Wow Meg, you sound incredible.”

You bring him to an abrupt stop. Your voice is maple syrup trailing down Megumi’s neck, leaving goosebumps in its candied wake.

Pitch fucking perfect.

A soft, ethereal C, gliding down Heaven’s staircase. You infuse sunlight into his name, whichever way you choose to say it.

And it’s hell. It’s cruel. To have as keen hearing as he does. To listen to you sing his name and have nothing else follow.

“Fushiguro.” Megumi shoots up from his seat, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.

“What?”

“Fushiguro.” He repeats, eyes briefly meeting yours before settling above your head. He’s at least a head and shoulders taller.

“Nobody calls me Meg.”

You throw your head back. Feather light crescendo in your laughter. It’s pretty. Tantalizing in the way chandeliers twinkle when they capture a beam of light.

His eyes dart down to catch the feminine column of your neck. Curving into your delicate collar bones. How are your lines so seamless?

So cinematic. Like he’s watching a figure skater land a triple axel. Or a prima ballerina en pointe. It’s not fathomable.

Gorgeous.

You are gorgeous.

“I call you Meg.” You retort with a smile that liquifies all of his joints.

You double your walking speed to keep pace with Megumi’s long strides. Both of you exit the sound engineering building. Heading straight for the campus library a couple blocks away.

“Who were you—oh,” Megumi’s glacial hand along the small of your back steals your voice away.

Your eyes and feet follow his gentle push, shifting you to the other side of him.

“Walking on the wrong side.” He mutters, monotone. Matter-of-fact. Obviously.

He’s a gentleman. Of course he is going to walk on the traffic facing edge of the sidewalk.

Of course he didn’t feel the electric currents wire through his fingers to clench — suffocate — his heart.

No, he didn’t hear that punched out, falsetto gasp when his hand cradled your perfectly tapered waist.

Or notice how well you fit into his hand. How light you are under his touch that had none of his real strength behind it.

You’re made of alluring lines. Intoxicating sounds.

What would it take to coax a pretty melody out of your pouty lips?

His fingers?

They’re long. And smart. Cold. Remarkably patient. You’d like them.

He could make you love them.

Crave them. Need, whimper, whine, and cry out for them.

“So who was it?” You tether him to reality.

“Who was what?” Megumi counters, leading you to a private study room.

“The way you were singing earlier.”

Hairs along the back of his neck stand at attention. Blood runs Siberian cold. Megumi’s gaze on you is subzero.

“It had to be for someone.” You lower down into a seat in slow motion.

The sweetheart neckline of your sundress is mean. Your supple mounds tilt and ripple with every micro movement. Megumi has forgotten why he’s glaring at you.

“You sound too…pretty. It can’t be wasted on thin air.” You continue.

“She must be—“

“Let’s just get started, okay?” He sharply redirects the conversation.

And promptly shifts gear to low autopilot. He’ll speak when spoken to, answer questions intermittently. But his mind’s true coordinates are a galaxy away.

Megumi retreats to his shadow garden.

Watching you.

Drinking you in.

Savoring each detail on his tastebuds like dessert.

The pencil eraser leaves an indent on your bottom lip where you’ve been pressing too hard.

Megumi wants to roll your bottom lip under his teeth. Until it flushes rose and swells beneath his relentless pull.

His eyes fall to your bracelet, far too big for your dainty wrist.

He could hold both of your wrists in one hand above your head or behind your back for hours. Without breaking a sweat.

His other hand would take its time.

To stroke you. Pet you. Learn your sheet music. Then play your body like a harp until you’re a chorus of beautiful, soprano whimpers and moans. Begging and pleading so prettily, enticing him to give in.

But he won’t.

Not until you’re soft enough. A babbling, warm, ruined brook beneath his fingers.

Then he’ll take you, gorgeous.

Searing pain from his sharp swallow and nails digging into his thighs rip him down to the present.

Vision a little fuzzy. Head a revolving door of vulgar scenarios. A dull, demanding ache between his legs draws his eyes to his lap.

Fucking hell.

His jeans are uncomfortable. He’s stiff and needy. Not nearly enough strength in his pants to hold back his drunken arousal.

Not to the mention, the—

swarm of shadows growing at his feet?

Is his…innate domain materializing around him right now?

Megumi aggressively slices through the air at his hip level. Below the table, but you don’t miss his sudden stirring.

“Meg? You okay over—“

“Going to the bathroom.” He gruffs through a clenched jaw. Megumi places his forearm over his crotch before hurrying out of the room.

He can barely recognize the man in the mirror. Flushed to his ears. Volcanoes threatening eruption in his eyes. Api Biru. Pure, triple distilled, blue lava coursing through his veins.

Snap out of it, Fushiguro.

The splash of cold water does nothing for his internal heat. But his milky complexion returns to its effervescent state.

But then he turns a little too quickly to leave. And his painfully hard length drags along his fabric. It’s blinding.

A feeble moan tumbles out of his tight lips.

“Fuck.”

Megumi slams his eyes shut. He needs to readjust. But if he touches himself now, he might not be able to stop.

A slow, steadying breath fills his lungs.

“Just adjust, don’t…” His voice trails off. Icey fingers around his hot, angry base is enough to rip the carpet from beneath his feet.

“Oh, fuck.” Megumi mumbles through one quick pump up his shaft.

He shakes his head as if to tell himself enough. He rests his erection along his thigh before zipping up. Still painful, but tolerable.

A tornado obliterates any remaining resolve in Megumi’s mind on his walk back to you.

You are a dream.

Or a nightmare? A curse?

It doesn’t matter. He couldn’t care less.

Megumi would follow you. Deeper than the crypts of his 10 shadows. Into hell if it meant he could have you the way he wants you.

The way he craves you.

Because fuck the cost.

He’d pay anything.

You’re working on an elaborate concept diagram on the white board. On the tip of your toes. Lip curled under your teeth. And you are just irresistible.

So, he won’t resist.

“Meg! Took you a bit, you okay?”

Megumi is silent. Unblinking. Sauntering toward you.

“Megumi?”

You lower to the soles of your shoes. Neck craning to look at his face. Your eyes widen at his persistent silence. Rosy heat dusting your cheeks.

Pretty little doe, rooted in place by his wolfish glare.

Megumi takes the marker out of your hand and tosses it behind him in one swift motion.

“Hmm,” a tiny acknowledgment of his name. Just because it sounds so sweet rolling off your tongue.

Megumi corners you against the wall. Both of his hands casually in his pockets.

He watches you shift. Flicker your eyes in every direction. Fiddle with your thumbs.

His quiet.

His presence.

It flusters you. Well before he’s gotten the chance to run his hands along the lazy curve of your waist and hips.

“So…so blue.” You stammer. Your warm eyes metronome between his.

“They are.”

Megumi steps impossibly closer. His eyes drop to your chest. Dainty, nervous heaves. Up and down. Up and down.

“You are so,” you swallow thickly, dropping your gaze. “hard to read.”

Megumi snakes his large, graceful fingers into your nape. The temperature difference between your warmth and his cold startles you deeper into his grasp. Your head evanesces into his pull.

A beautiful, shocked gasp escapes you. Just as Megumi’s lips trace the shell of your ear.

“I want you.”

His breaths collide with yours, now. Heat welling deep in his groin. His cock thunders against his thigh.

“Can you read that?” Megumi rasps. Ensuring his voice vibrates down your spine.

A new sound tumbles from your lips. Like you choked on your last swallow. How pretty. You gurgling and gagging like that.

“W-want me? Megumi wh—“

“I.” Megumi nudges his thigh between your legs. His steel pipe erection digs into your dewy, hot core. He angles his leg slightly upward, inching you on the tip of your toes.

His prima ballerina, en pointe.

“Want you.” His lips ghost against yours. Free hand cups the flesh beneath your thigh. Pads of his fingers twitching to dig in.

The two of you drink in this lock-in-key fit. Megumi revels in you. Like this. At his complete mercy.

The prodigal son, born with more power than he knows what to do with.

Ten shadows. Ten Shikigami. It’s been centuries since the last head of his bloodline had power buzzing beneath his fingertips like him.

And somehow he’s never felt more powerful than this.

With you, heaven’s most precious angel, cradled in his arms. Drowning in sinful ecstasy. He brands this freeze frame into the most permanent part of his memory.

Then, he free falls off your cliff edge.

Megumi takes your lips with unfettered greed. Hunger woven into the way his tongue traces every corner of your delectable, soft mouth. His fingers push your head deeper into him. Sucking and nibbling on your warm muscle.

You shower him with airy, choppy little pants. Moans and whines so light they crescendo to fairy dust. You can’t keep up with his bruising kiss. His other hand palms your thigh, kneading little bruises into your silky smooth skin.

Marking what’s his.

“Oh my god.”

You breathe into his mouth when he lets you up for air. Megumi’s eyes dart down to the meeting point of your sex and his muscular thigh.

Did you really think he wouldn’t notice how you’re rutting your pretty little cunt against his leg like that?

Crimson high on your cheeks. You look away when he tries to catch your fucked out gaze.

“Don’t hide from me, gorgeous.” His hand traces up to your hips. You preen into his firm grip.

“Megumi.”

“Don’t stop, pretty girl.” He forcefully moves your hips in more dramatic, languid, deep rolls against his thigh. He’s not paying any mind to the pool of his precum soaking through his pants.

You bury your head in his neck. Fingernails digging pretty crescent moons into his back. You take over the pace. Undulating against him. Shameless. In complete heat.

“You feel s-so…so good.” Your lips smear against his dampened neck. Megumi responds by circling your puffy, slick bud with his fingers.

And fuck. The slurred, broken whimper that rings in his ears.

The way you hump him even more sloppily.

He could finish from that alone.

Your hand flies to your mouth. Empty huffs spilling. Whines ascending in pitch. You are close.

“Such pretty sounds, baby.”

“Megumi…meg..I-“

“Let it out.” He grips the back of your neck. Feeling dangerously close to his own nirvana. Drunk off your precious melody.

“Sing for me.”

“F-fuck, GOD.”

You bite down on his neck. Waves of pleasure crashing into you like hurricane winds. He grips your waist steady. Feeling every involuntary twitch and jerk of your doll-like frame.

Blessing or curse?

He doesn’t know.

But he will follow you to the end of his lifetime and the next.

“God, Fushiguro. That was…” The lusty haze from your peak settles around you. The once shattered world, slowly pieces itself back together.

“No.” Megumi pulls you out of his neck. Dropping his lips to yours, so he can breathe the air directly from your lungs.

“Meg. You call me Meg.”

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pinkanonhopes · 2 years

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aaaaa ngl i had missed classical music a bit

#even tho i'm a modern pianist and not a classical one #i know very few classical music pieces #apart from like. exercises. those are all classical stuff lmao.#a beethoven thingy (very pretty; cannot finish it); chopin nocturne op 9 n 2 (very cool; almost done); some other thing i don't remember #but also like listening to it it's cool. especially piano stuff. that is so inspiring???#idk seeing people doing what i love in a passionate way makes me even more passionate i guess #aaaaaa lovely feeling #leo scrive

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 8 months

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hello!! i humbly ask for some price fluff… maybe sleeping on his chest or something or getting ready for bed

—Hum Me A Tune, Blue-Eyes

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [You listen to his heartbeat as he keeps you to his chest, his breath tickling your hair.] ❞

Your eyes are half closed and drooping farther by the second, a warmth so bone-deep blooming beneath the skin that it fully encapsulates your consciousness.

John keeps your head against his chest, one callused hand on the back of your skull and massaging in small circles. You hear him hum under his breath as he watches you; his own lids teetering up and down.

In the background, the gentle sound of the record player spits out Beethoven.

"You're makin' me sleepy," you whisper, nuzzling against John's chest and his shirt with a large sigh. The man grunts, and you feel his lips meet your scalp in a deep kiss. He smells like linen and beard oil.

Into your hair, John mutters, "Good." It's more a purr than anything else as you shiver at the sensation of his body grumbling from under you.

The living room is the picture of a Saturday afternoon—dishes in the kitchen sink, laundry in the basket to be put away; the couch you both lay on sinking with your combined weight. Sun streaming through the curtains.

You've forgotten how you both ended up in this position in the first place. Not that it mattered to you now.

"Like you here." The Brit huffs, the blue of his eyes dim and content. Pools of molten sapphire. It's as if whenever he holds you everything else falls away into a sheen of contentment.

There's no war here with you on his chest—no gunfire or yelling orders. Just the heat of your body and the swell of lungs as your chest bares down on him. John's lashes flutter.

"Course you do," you tease, slowly, before kissing his clothed chest. John stifles a chuckle, his lips curling along your scalp as his breath tickles your hair. His hands spread out along your back—curling as a snake would. Tight and firm. You don't mind in the slightest. "Careful, Captain...don't go sleeping on duty."

Briefly, you peek up at him through your addled haze. He lays a kiss on your forehead and his lips twitch as you continue. Such a greedy cuddler. "We still have sheets to put on the bed, y'know."

There was no way the both of you were leaving this couch. Not with John's large hands caressing your spine. Not with how you fit atop him so perfectly with your dead weight and adorable sleepy blinks.

This was fucking heavenly.

"Fuckin' hell," the brunette grumbles; he hikes you farther up as you let him drag you like a stuffed animal with a tiny grunt. John sighs, settling you. "Bloody forget about it. You're not movin' an inch."

"That a promise...or an order?"

"Both." You smile, letting his large lungs raise you up and down as if sleeping atop a grizzly bear. Maybe, you thought, you were.

"Sleep, Love," John whispers. "I'll be right here with you."

And as you close your eyes fully and slot your head under the man's chin, the gruff brunette joins not seconds later into the state of oblivion. Soft inhalations; greedy hands that anchor like steel. A scrape of beard hair against your ear.

The house settles, the music plays, and the two Lovers sleep; dead to all else except one another's arms.

TAGS:

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actually-safer-to-kiss · 7 months

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See How It Shines

Summary: Spencer gets home from work to find Reader in tears over the new Hozier album.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff and comfort

Content warnings: The masterpiece of Hozier’s Unreal Unearth, me stopping halfway to listen to the entire album, me crying to every song I reference

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: shoutout to anyone who picks up on every song reference I make. I am instantly in love with you.

Spencer had been etched with the weight of unsolved cases and the relentless march of time, and he was forced to call it a night around six. The team had already pulled an all-nighter earlier in the week, so Hotch decided they all deserved rest. Spencer, however, wasn’t tired (he was; it was the late cups of coffee). Nevertheless, he makes it to his apartment door, skipping every other step. As Spencer turned the key in the lock, a soft melody flowed from the other side, haunting him yet drawing him in.

When the door opens with a slight creak, the music only grows. The living room was a sanctuary, bathed in the golden hues of twilight and table lamps, together casting long, ethereal shadows across the aged wooden floor. Plants adorned the walls and shelves. Since you moved in, he has never shared a space with so many simple living things. His record player, a testament to decades of shared music between him and his mother, spun its vinyl tale. This time it was for you, as it breathed life into the album as you sat on the couch in a nest of blankets.

Ah yes, it was Hozier day. The anticipated album release of Unreal Unearth. His girlfriend highly anticipated it. She had been vibrating as the week drew to a close with five days left, then three, then one. And it was well worth the wait, considering the tears continuing to streak her face as the Irish man begged for someone to not fall away from him.

Spencer set his bag down by the door and proceeded toward the couch with caution as if he were ready to pounce like a predator on prey. Except the end resulted in a tender hand on your shoulder. You looked up at him with a puffy face and snotty nose. It was Spencer’s next instinct to grab a tissue from the end table and offer it to you. Of course, you took it. And even though the answer was obvious, he still felt the need to ask, “Are you okay?”

It was a struggle for you to inhale, so you blew your nose again. "I didn’t expect this to be a breakup album.” The album sleeve was wrapped in your arms, proving to already be a prized possession. The tracklist was organized by the layers of Dante’s hell they fell under.

Spencer gave you a small smirk before placing a kiss on your head. “Well, I’ll go ahead and get started on dinner.” It was his turn to take the culinary reins for tonight. “Do you need anything?”

“I need to know who this woman is, Spencer.” You throw your head back as Hozier hits a high note that neither of you has heard from him before. You stay there as you ask, “Who made this man feel so much pain?”

“You want to fight Hozier’s ex-girlfriend?”

“Ew, no.” Your nose scrunched. “I just want to know how. The power to make a man feel this way.”

Spencer chuckled. He had answers. And he’s happy to not reply with any of them. “I’m making chicken parmesan. That okay?”

You nodded, soon returning to singing about holding a heart like a steering wheel. But you then grabbed his hand. Your eyes are red, and Spencer is sure you’ll need drops before the end of the night. “Did a part of you die the first time I called you ‘baby,’ Spencer?”

Spencer couldn’t help but smirk as he quirked a brow. “Do what?”

“They’re song lyrics.” You let go of him.

Spencer has never fully understood the uproar that comes with Hozier. Then again, no one really flocks to Beethoven and Chopin like they used to. Plus, Vivaldi wasn’t known for belting out in the middle of his pieces and Spencer can at least admit Hozier’s belts ( well, the ones he’s heard so far) tug at him by the chest. He came back to his senses quickly when his mismatched socks landed on the cold tile. He washed his hands and opened the fridge door with his good knee.

Songs of water and knives reminded him he had chicken to wash and cut. And the familiar feeling in his own kitchen gets the tasks in Spencer’s head in order. He could feel the weight of his week slowly lift, replaced by Spencer attempting to chop to the song. It was inefficient. Some songs play shockingly fast for a breakup album. He settled for a more percussion style of noise, making each slice more deliberate as a testament to his meticulousness.

The flour and breadcrumbs sizzled in the oil that mingled with the sight of you matching the pitch of the song and humming where Hozier shouted, caressing the album sleeve like it was alive and needed your warmth. The weight of the lyrics settling in your bones caused your head to fall in shock as a long, high note carried through the whole apartment.

The album played on, weaving tales of love and loss, each one successfully targeting your core and striking effectively. And when Spencer got into the groove of his own routine in the kitchen, he listened to the lyrics as they almost guided him to autopilot, reminding him of the joys that come with his leg around you in bed, ensuring you don’t move anywhere except closer to him. And how the idea of losing that is something he does not care to dwell on for long.

He could keep it together, he thought.

Until his voice soars about the glistening of an animal’s eyes. About the force of love for someone recklessly in the middle of the street. Spencer couldn’t help but feel a lump forming in his throat. It was a visceral reaction—Spencer's sniffle. But it wasn’t unheard.

You turned your gaze toward Spencer, your eyes soft with understanding. You could hear the emotion in his breath and the slight catch in his throat. “Spencer?” You asked.

“I’m fine.”

Your lower lip quivers with a puffy smile. “You’re crying.”

“No, I’m chopping. Chopping while completely fine.” His sniffles continued to give him away (sanitary stations over pride every time).

You couldn’t help but find the situation adorable. You lazily got up from the couch, letting one of the blankets slide off with you, dragging along behind you across the wood floor and then the tile. You carefully put your hands around his waist because safety comes first. You squeeze him, and he laughs a little. For a moment, he puts his left hand on your arm, keeping it there. You noticed how his fingertips were colder than expected as you looked at the cutting board from under his arm. “So basil makes you cry? Is that it?”

Spencer laughs again, diverting his gaze from the record player and clearing his eyes from unshed tears. “Today, it apparently does. There must be some emotional properties I didn’t consider.”

“Nothing to do with an Irish man singing his heart out?”

Spencer rubs his nose on his sleeve. Fuck sanitation right now; he’s about to go through it. The snot is evident. See how it shines, indeed. “Is he really singing about roadkill?”

“Yep.” You sniffle in return as you lay your head on his back.

“Fuck.”

“I know.”

“How does he do it?”

“That I don’t know.” You held Spencer as he let the music hit him. Taking moments to turn from the food to wipe his tears.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid/you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic

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comradekatara · 29 days

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what genres of music do you think the gaang would listen to? what about some of their favorite artists? i think katara would be a big olivia rodrigo fan and that aang would listen to a lot of taylor swift lol

aw come on now be nice to aang. he would have better taste than THAT. i think he would listen to a lot of disco, like donna summer. he would like upbeat funky music that you can dance to. and he’d have a pretty eclectic and varied music taste. like i see him also loving joanna newsom (and not just because divers is about his life). and maaayyybe he’d listen to taylor swift, like one or two songs perhaps, but his ass would NOT be a swiftie.

that said, katara would feel very passionately about her, although whether positively or negatively i do not know. but there is no way she is simply swift-neutral. she would care way too much about pop culture as a phenomenon. i think that even if she really did love taylor swift she’d always preface her name with “famous climate criminal…”

and look, i respect olivia rodrigo, i think she’s a talented performer and makes great songs for amvs (ty lee all american bitch kendall roy brutal nanami vampire, to name a few highlights), but if anything, katara would listen to actual 90s riot grrrl and female singer songwriters, because olivia is simply not as good as her inspirations.

katara would also listen to any music that has a subversive political message or is sung by a woman with eminently powerful vocals. so a combination of punk, folk, some gospel, some heavy metal, and a lot of r&b. also i think she’d listen to very specific shwotunes and defend those musicals with her life.

sokka doesn’t have a music “taste” he has one song that he plays on repeat for weeks until he gets sick of it. sometimes that song is a symphony by beethoven, and sometimes that song is “fireworks” by mitski (okay, it’s often “firework” by mitski). but his one constant is kate bush. he’s fucking obsessed with kate bush.

toph grew up a piano prodigy so she has a lot of opinions on classical music and that’s most of what she listens to for the first decade or so of her life. then she gets introduced to like, tracy chapman and fiona apple through katara and sokka, and realizes that classifying all music with lyrics as “trash” may have been a bit reductive. and when she gets a bit older she gets really into indie rock and begs sokka to take her to concerts. and he doesn’t even really care for the concerts. he just takes her because he knows how much she loves it.

zuko is a mitskigirl thru and thru. i know that ppl say he’d be emo and listen to mcr but that music is too coarse and unpolished for his sensitive ears. he likes music with a beautiful melancholy quality that makes him feel sad yet gorgeous. he also listens to jbrekkie and jay som and other musical equivalents to ocean vuong. he’s literally gaysian what do u want from him.

suki is by far the most into music of anyone in their friendgroup. music is one of her favorite things in the entire world, and if she couldn’t play and listen to music she wouldn’t even want to exist. she’s in an indie folk rock band with her friends called the kyoshi warriors, and they have a lot of followers on bandcamp. she has an incredibly varied and extensive music taste, which is why she’s basically always designated the aux cord. sometimes she’s playing the cranberries and sometimes she’s playing googoosh and sometimes she’s playing otyken. and her taste never misses.

ty lee is one of those freaks who doesn’t really listen to music by choice. instead, she listens to: true crime podcasts, audiobooks (eg, of lacanian psychoanalysis), or sometimes simply has her earbuds in with nothing actually playing so as to seem as if she isn’t eavesdropping on the conversations taking place in her vicinity. but when people ask her what kind of music she likes she just says, “oh, you know…. pop.”

mai is also a mitskigirl she’s even more of a mitskigirl than zuko is (so she claims, although zuko would contest this). she’s very active on spotify because she loves making various playlists for different moods, different vibes, different blorbos from her shows. she likes all different genres, and takes suki’s recommendations very seriously above all.

azula’s two favorite artists are, unfortunately, rachmaninoff and kanye, and that’s all you really need to know about her.

#sapphikatara #asks #modern au #the gaang and #atlamusic #gee katara how come you get THREE bullet points

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brairslair · 6 months

Note

Hey!! I loved your Peter Parker fic!!

I hope you're taking requests, if yes can you please write harry potter x ravenclaw!reader? Where reader is a muggleborn and loves muggle music, she does this thing where she gives all her friends a song which reminds her of them, even multiple to Hermione (who secretly loves it and listens to those on loop) and ron( who tries to act like he doesn't care but secretly feels loved) but she's never given harry a song, despite him being her best friend. But after one of DA meetings they are alone and harry asks her why doesn't she give him a song (fallin' all in you- Shawn Mendez) and she plays it for him a and that it reminds her of him, AND THEY KISS!!

I'm really sorry if it's too specific, please feel free to change anything! THANK YOU SM!! I LOVE YOUR FICS!!❤️❤️✨

definitely not too specific! i love that you gave me so much to work with, so ty anon! i did switch it up a little bit, but i hope it turned out to your liking!

318 Hours 43 Minutes ˗ˏˋ H.J.P ´ˎ˗

“Be my summer in a winter day, love”

harry potter x ravenclaw!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

REQUESTED: yes requests are open! fandoms: marvel, stranger things, harry potter (any era), scream

WARNINGS: fem reader, not proofread, fluff fluff fluff, muggleborn!reader, reader is described as somewhat of a musical prodigy, modern music, mobile phones, and spotify all exist in this timeline, 7th year, kissing, idiots in love, best friends to lover ig, joking mentions of death, lmk if i missed smth!

A/N: i'm sure there are tons of grammatical errors in here but lets pretend we don't see them!

ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY ARE 18+ remember to like, comment, and reblog to support my writing!

If there was one thing you couldn't live without, it would be music. It was almost impossible to recall a time you had left your dorms without your headphones. Music had just always been a huge part of your life. Growing up, your parents got you into piano lessons, and you were playing Beethoven by the end of the first month. After that, you picked up as many instruments as you could afford, starting with violin, then guitar, the flute, and now the harp. Your parents had to soundproof the house.

Once you got your acceptance into Hogwarts as a witch, your whole world turned upside down. You were sorted into Ravenclaw, which felt very fitting, and were assigned a dormmate, Padme Patil. The two of you clicked immediately and became instant friends. After a few months of hanging out with the Patil sisters, you were introduced to three Gryffindor students in your year; Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter. Instantly, you felt some sort of a connection pulling you to them, but you couldn't put your finger on it.

You started hanging out with "The Golden Trio", as you affectionately called them, all the time, and the four of you eventually became a quartet. You had grown especially close with Harry, and the two of you did almost everything together. Well, everything except study.

After one particular study date with Hermione, you were thrilled to learn that she shared the same love for muggle music as you did. The two of you rambled on and on about your favorites, uncharacteristically losing track of your studies.

"The song Rises the Moon reminds me a lot of you!" You mindlessly exclaimed, watching as Hermione's eyes lit up.

The rest was history. You were known to associate songs with the people around you, and you had no shame in telling them. You had given Hermione, Ron, and the Patil sisters a countless number of songs over the years. In fact, you had given them so many, that a few had made playlists to keep track of all of them. Ron was the most hesitant to accept the recommendations, but Hermione told you she had caught him singing along to them in the common room on multiple occasions.

Every once in a while, you would even see another student studying in the library, maybe one you had only said 'Hello' to in passing, and a song would just scream out to you so loudly that you had to leave them a note about it as you left.

It was like your own personal love language, and you loved being able to make people smile, even if they never listened to the song.

The one person close to you whom you had never given a song to, was the infamous Harry Potter, and it was painfully hard for him to ignore. After almost seven years of being best friends, you would think he would have been worthy of at least one song, right?

He watched as you expertly conjured up the Draught of Peace potion the class was supposed to be working on, smacking Ron's hand away when he goes to touch it. Watching you was the only thing that made this class somewhat bearable.

He can't get it out of his head... the fact that you've never given him a song. He's been thinking about it non-stop since you gave that Hufflepuff boy a song in the dining hall a few days ago.

It wasn't news to him that he had been in love with you since 5th year, probably longer than that before he had even realized, but he would sooner die than admit it out loud.

You were the most important person in the world to him, but he was almost positive you didn't feel the same way. He would never be able to forgive himself if he ruined your friendship. So, he just kept his big mouth shut and pretended like there was nothing there.

He thought he was really good at faking it too. He wasn't.

Anyone with eyes could see the way he looked at you, the way he spoke to you, the way his smile looked ten times brighter when you were around. It was blatantly obvious he had it bad for you.

What wasn't as obvious was that you were just as infatuated with him as he was with you. You may have been much better at hiding it, but anyone close to you could see it clear as day. I mean, it was silly really. The way you were both so stupidly in love and too scared to see it.

Harry snapped to attention as Professor Snape called on him, spitting out to 'straighten his spine and get back to work'. He grumbled something under his breath before following instructions. When he looked back at you, he found your eyes already on him, giggling at the scene he had caused before returning to your schoolwork. He loved hearing your laugh.

As the class ended, Harry gathered his things into his bookbag, slinging it over his shoulder as he straightened his robes. Snape was the first to leave the classroom, followed by a small swarm of students who were anxious to get back to the common rooms for some much-needed free time. Harry looked over to where you and Ron had been sitting, watching you pull out a scrap of parchment with messy little scribbles on it, before sliding it over to the red head.

"I found a new song the other night, and it reminded me so much of you, I just had to write it down before I forgot the title." You smiled, watching Ron look over the writing, thanking you awkwardly as he shoved it into his pocket.

Harry suddenly felt his pockets get lighter.

"I'll be in the library with Hermione tonight. Wants to tutor me for Transfiguration." He said in an annoyed tone, though you knew he was secretly looking forward to it. "You wanna come? Could use all the help I can get."

Harry secretly hoped you would say no.

You packed up all your belongings, making sure not to forget any of your notes, "Yeah, sure! Just have to do a few things first, but I can stop by in a bit." You smiled, the way you always do, as you shoved folders into your bag.

"Alright," Ron nodded, "I'll see you." He said as you waved each other goodbye, Ron heading for the exit. "Oh hey, Harry." He threw out casually as he left the room, calling attention to the boy in the back of the otherwise empty classroom.

You quickly turned around, smiling brightly when you saw him still sitting awkwardly in his seat. "Oh hey, Harry!" You repeated, "You're still here?"

Harry regained common sense then, now realizing he had been staring at you for the past hour, he stood from his seat and walked over to you. "Yeah..." He trailed off dumbly, still in his own thoughts. He head got cloudy as your perfume surrounded him.

He had debated on bringing it up for the past few months, but was to scared of your response. Honestly at this point, he could barely focus on anything BUT asking you about it. He figured that at this point it would be better to just get it over with. Like ripping off a bandaid.

"Hey, uh... Could I ask you something?" His voice cracked.

"Yeah, of course!" You finally slung the bag over your shoulder, giving Harry your full attention. "Ask away."

Your voice sounded sickly sweet, and it somehow made him more nervous. "Alright... Well, uh, I was just wondering-" He felt far too vulnerable to look into your eyes, so instead he looked at your shoulder. He had to clear his throat, "I was wondering why you've never given me a song?" He slurred out, trying to act casual about it while his heart was beating at top speeds.

Your smile immediately dropped, and Harry's stomach fell into his shoes at the sight. Now it was your turn to avoid eye contact, looking down at your feet and chewing on your cheek as you debated a response.

Harry felt like he was about to pass out. His hands grew clammy, and he could hear his heart hammering in his ears. The only times he had ever seen you not smiling were when something really terribly tragic had happened, or when your friends were upset themselves. This had to be a bad sign, right?"

Meanwhile, a million thoughts swirled through your head. You had hoped he hadn't noticed the exclusion, but you knew it was only a matter of time before he brought it up. You felt sick to your stomach. How could you lie your way out of this one? You hated lying, especially to Harry, and you didn't want to hurt him. Could you really risk telling him the truth? What if he freaks out and goes running for the hills and all your years of friendship are ruined?

"You know what, it doesn't matter." Harry brushed off weakly, starting to back away from you, "I don't need to know! It's no big deal, just forget I even said anything-"

"Harry, wait-" you instinctually grabbed his hand, making him freeze. You let go to reach into your bag, Harry cautiously getting closer. His confusion increased when you pulled your phone out, rapidly typing on it to pull something up. When you finally found it, you took a deep breath. Once he saw what you were about to show him, there would be no turning back. Finally, you made yourself turn the phone around so Harry could see the screen.

It was a private playlist titled "For Harold", and the cover photo was a picture that Hermione took of the two of you after a snowball fight last Christmas break. Falling all over each other in laughter, completely covered in snow.

You handed the phone to him, limbs shaking too much to hold it steady. He looked below the title to see the timestamp read 318h 43m.

You felt like your stomach was being tied in knots.

"This is why I've never given you a song." You admitted quietly. His expression was hard to read. Brows furrowed and mouth slightly open in shock. "I just... There were too many that reminded me of you."

Harry still hadn't looked at you or said a word, and you started to feel like you'd bounce right off the floor with how much you were vibrating.

Then he stopped scrolling, staring at the title of one particular song much too long for your liking. Even worse, he pressed play. As soon as the song started, you shrunk down into the desk behind you.

Sunrise, with you on my chest No blinds in the place where I live Daybreak, open your eyes Cause this was only ever meant to be for one night We're changing our minds here Be yours, be mine, dear

You busied yourself by playing with your fingers, looking absolutely anywhere but at Harry.

So close with you on my lips Touch noses, feeling your breath Push your heart and pull away, yeah Be my summer in a winter day, love

You started to feel incredibly antsy, regretting ever showing him the playlist. "We really don't have to listen to the whole thing-"

I can't see one thing wrong Between the both of us Be mine, be mine, yeah Anytime, anytime

You squeezed your eyes shut to try and save yourself from some embarrassment, but when you opened them, you found Harry looking at you with the biggest smile you'd ever seen in your life. Your belly flipped.

You are bringing out a different kind of me There's no safety net that's underneath, I'm free Fallin' all in you Fell for men who weren't how they appear, yeah Trapped up on a tightrope now we're here, we're free Fallin' all in you

Harry was beaming, putting the phone down on the desk beside him. He slowly made his way closer to you, and no matter how badly you wanted to look away from him, you couldn't.

He was now so close to you that you could feel his breath fan across your lips, and the song faded in the background as your heart pounded. "Is this how you really feel? About me?" He asked as his cheeks turned pink, and you couldn't help but find the silly question endearing.

You nodded your head, deciding that your voice would give out if you tried to speak right now. The eye contact was almost unbearable, and you broke it with a quick glance down to his lips.

The second you did, his lips were immediately on yours, pressing hard into you. You gasped against his lips in shock. You felt like your whole body was on fire.

He pulled away too soon, mumbling a boyish "Sorry about that-", before you chased his lips and pulled them back down to yours, muffling the rest of his apology. This time it lasted.

Your lips felt like they were home against his, moving slow and sweet, like you had all the time in the world. You sighed happily into the kiss, pouring the years of pent-up feelings out for each other. His lips tasted like pumpkin, and butterbeer, and the sweet vanilla chapstick you gave him. It made you giggle a little against his lips.

You melted as he mindlessly cornered you against the desk, his hands gently holding your face like you were made of glass. You wrapped your arms around his neck to ground yourself. His lips curled up into a smile against yours, and you involuntarily matched the expression. It all felt so... right. Like all of the pieces were finally falling into place.

Unfortunately, you both need oxygen, so you were forced to pull away. He rested his forehead against yours, as you share the air between you. You pulled him impossibly closer, nudging his nose with yours, both knowing you felt just as lovesick for each other.

Then your phone dinged. Harry looked down at the message from Ron, reading "Hey, you still coming tonight?"

He picked it up to respond, "Can't, sorry!" before flipping it over carelessly, both of you giggling as he pulled you back for another kiss.

i had so much fun writing thissss ugh this was such a sweet prompt. tysm anon!

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tinydefector · 12 days

Note

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

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larissaschristies · 3 months

Text

Symphonies by LarissasChristies

(AO3 Link in Title)

Summary: You are Lillian Crowe, a young cellist hired by Larissa Weems as the new Music Director at Nevermore. You quickly develop feelings for Larissa, but the other woman is guarded, walls built high from years of having to protect herself. Will you be able to show Larissa that she deserves to love, and to be loved in return?

Chapters: 1/?

Word Count: 1,506

HUGE thank you to @weemssapphic for being my beta!

—————————————————————————————

You looked around the grandiose office, taking in the decor the principal had chosen while waiting for her to arrive. Compared to the rest of the school, it was rather plain, but you could tell that each piece had been selected with purpose and care; the two leather armchairs, one of which you were now sitting in, matched the leather chair sitting empty behind the principal’s desk, the oxblood curtains covering the floor to ceiling windows, the two chandeliers casting a warm glow across the room, all meticulously selected and placed by the principal herself. You lost yourself in thinking about the woman behind the decor, zoning out to a point that you didn’t hear the door to her private quarters open and click shut as the principal appeared.

“Good morning,” she said, her words lilting with a British accent. “I am Principal Weems, and you must be Lillian!”

You stood and whirled toward the sound of her deep voice, having been jolted from your thoughts by her sudden arrival. A small gasp escaped your lips as you took in the woman before you; she was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen, and her crystalline blue eyes pierced your own as she strode toward you with her hand out in greeting. You took the opportunity of the space between you to really look at the woman as she made her way to you. She was wearing a form-fitting tan dress that stretched deliciously across her hips, the heels she wore making her even taller than she already is, and her white-blonde hair was perfectly pinned in a gorgeous updo. As your eyes made their way back to her face you realized she had already closed the distance between you. She raised her eyebrow at you and glanced down at her extended hand expectantly.

“Oh, sorry,” you muttered as you rushed to take her hand in your own, and your mind reeled at how small yours felt in hers. “Yes, uh, my name is Lillian and I am here to interview for the position of Music Director.” You fumbled over your words, still trying to recover from being caught off guard.

“Yes, of course.”,” Hher smile as she gestured for you to sit made your stomach clench and you did as she requested. You quietly dug your nails into your palms in a feeble attempt to pull yourself together as the principal launched into her introduction.

——

You walked out of Nevermore with a huge smile on your face. The interview had lasted a little over an hour, Principal Weems asking questions and watching you with a shine in her beautiful eyes as she listened intently to your answers. You found yourself getting carried away a couple of times, but it seemed like the principal had enjoyed the passion with which you responded because by the end of the interview she had offered you the position. Once at your car, you did a little victory dance and took out your phone, and sent a quick text to your best friend before sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Hey Soph, guess what?! I GOT THE JOB!!! Drinks at my place this evening to celebrate?”

You hit send, locking your phone and dropping it in the cup holder before putting your key in the ignition and turning your car on, the radio coming to life playing the lively 4th Movement of Beethoven’s 7th Symphony, one of your favorites. The drive home was short, your apartment only ten minutes away from Nevermore,which was just enough time to finish the symphony. You turned the car off and grabbed your phone from the cup holder before getting out, gently closing the door behind you and walking toward your apartment. Just as you put the key in the front door your phone chimed, a text message popping up on the screen.

“Hell yes, babes!!!!! I knew you would get it, you’re the best cellist I know!!!”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled, pushing your door open and tossing your keys into the bowl on your entry table before unlocking your phone to reply.

“I’m the ONLY cellist you know, doofus. Be here around 8.”

You gently slipped your feet out of the heels you had worn for the interview, sighing in relief as your feet relaxed. You hit send on the message as you slid your feet into your slippers, padding over to the couch. After getting comfortable and turning on your television, you found your mind wandering back to the principal, thoughts of finding something to watch gone. She was absolutely gorgeous, and the more you thought about her the hotter your cheeks got. Her deep voice, her crimson lips, those beautiful blue eyes…. what you wouldn’t give to get lost in those eyes and feel how soft those lips are. To hear her moaning your name.

Nope, you thought to yourself, this is your new boss! You can NOT be having these thoughts!

You shook your head and slapped your hands on your knees, standing up and heading toward the kitchen. Your stomach growled as you opened the fridge only to find a moldy apple and some week-old takeout from your favorite Japanese restaurant. For half a moment you contemplated eating the leftovers before your self preservation kicked in and you closed the refrigerator. Your phone dings from the couch and you lean over to grab it, a text from an unknown number on the screen.

“Hello, I apologize for getting your number from your file. This is Principal Weems. Larissa. I was wondering if you might be free this evening? I’d like to get to know you a bit better before the start of the term. Dinner at Koto, say 7pm?”

Your heart skipped a beat at seeing who the text was from. You quickly unlocked your phone and read the message again, your brain taking a minute to catch up with what was happening. Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard, the blinking cursor taunting you as you try to come up with a reply.

Come on, Lillian, she’s your new boss and simply wants to learn more about her new employee. It’s not that deep! You thought to yourself as you began to type.

“I’d love that, Koto is actually my favorite restaurant! I’ll meet you there at 7!”

You hit send before you could overthink and retype the message six times. As you took a deep breath to steady your heartbeat, a text from Soph came in. Shit.

“8 sounds great! Do you want me to grab anything on my way? I know your fridge is probably barren.”

You rolled your eyes, oddly comforted by how well she knows you, and clicked the message to reply.

“I actually can’t do it tonight, I'm sorry. Larissa— Principal Weems wants to hear more about my career prior to applying at Nevermore over dinner at Koto. Rain check?”

Three bubbles popped up almost immediately as Soph began to reply.

“Dinner at Koto?! Sounds like she wants to do more than just ‘hear about your career’ Lil ;)”

“Oh shut up, there’s literally no way. I am her e m p l o y e e.”

Your phone started to ring then, Soph’s face filling your screen as her contact photo popped up.

“I am her em-ploy-ee,” Soph mocked, her voice echoing around your apartment as you hit the speaker button.

“It is completely normal to want to learn more about the person you have hired to teach your students, it’s not a big deal.” You blushed, your cheeks getting hotter by the second.

“Wait. Am I sensing a hint of…. a crush?” Soph’s voice went up on octave at the end of her question, excitement clearly getting the best of her.

“NO!” You nearly shouted, your cheeks practically catching fire before calmly repeating, “No. I do not have a crush on my new boss. This is just a professional meeting between two coworkers.”

“Oh, my ass, Lil. You totally have a crush on your new boss. Is she taller than you? I bet she’s taller than you. You’re SO predictable.”

“And what if she is?” You said incredulously. You glanced down at your watch, “I’m hanging up now, I need to get ready. Goodbye!” You practically slammed your finger on the red button, briefly missing the days when you could dramatically snap your phone shut. You looked at your watch again: 5:15pm. You had about an hour to get ready before you had to leave and you had no idea what to wear.

Why does it matter, Lillian? Just wear what you’re wearing now, it’s not a date! You told yourself.

With a heavy sigh, you walked toward the bathroom to wash your face and reapply your makeup. Before you knew it, it was time to leave for Koto. You slipped your feet back into the black heels and grabbed your keys. You forced a deep breath to fill your lungs to calm your nerves before you headed out the door

#LarissasChristies #fanfic #Wednesday #wednesday netflix #Larissa Weems #Larissa Weems x OC #Lillian Crowe #Larissa Weems Fanfic

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