#fic based on lyrics

[embersofthewoods]

The Way I Loved You ~ A Soukou fanfic

It was twilight, and Chuuya was sat on the roof of the mafia building, overlooking the city, smoking a cigarette, and completely lost in thought.

“You should smoke so much you know. You’ll damage your lungs – like my brother.”

Chuuya almost leapt out of his skin. “Jesus, Gin, I didn’t hear you coming.”

She only shrugged before adding, “I am an assassin. And quiet is kind of my thing.”

She sat down beside him, and swing her legs over the edge of the building. They sat in peaceful silence for a few moments, before Chuuya finally asked, “Why are you up here anyways?”

Gin gave him a look. “You’ve been up here, alone, for almost an hour.”

“So?”

“You miss him.”

Chuuya felt his face flush bright red. “What!? No, I- I mean… who are you- I don’t even know what you mean.” he declared.

“It’s alright,” said Gin, “I miss him too.”

“You- you do?” Chuuya couldn’t hide his surprise.

“Yes. Despite being excessively cruel to my brother sometimes, Dazai-san has taught him much. He was also the first person to ever give us a home. So yes, I miss him.”

“I suppose so. Why would I miss him though!?” asked Chuuya. His attempt to bluff his way out of the situation failed, as Gin gave him another look that quite clearly said ‘Don’t give me that crap.’

Chuuya sighed resignedly. “Okay. Fine. We were secretly…friends.”

“…”

“OKAY. More than friends. We- I- … Much as I hated him, - and I did hate him, - I… I think I loved him. And now… now that I’ve realised and accepted that… I miss him. So much.”

Gin looked at him silently, her soft eyes clearly indicating she understood and was listening.

“What was it like, to love him?” she asked softly.

“Wow.” Chuuya leaned back on his hands and gazed up at the stars.

“That’s a big question.

“Well, we would constantly be screaming at each other, especially in public obviously, and fighting to prove our strength.

“But then he would randomly come and drag me out of my apartment and we would kiss in the rain…” Chuuya sighed and smiled at the memory.

“And I was constantly up at like 2am, thinking of him. I would curse his name because I just couldn’t get him out of my head!! I was… I was that madly in love it made me act insane!” Chuuya punched his palm aggressively and covered his face with his hands. He peeped through his fingers and Gin, who was still listening in her quietly comprehensive way, before continuing.

“I had so many mental breakdowns, like panic attacks, and times when I would just… I had to cry in a corner.” He stopped again and glared at Gin suddenly. “You won’t tell anyone about this. Will you.” he said gruffly.

Gins eyes, filled with kindness, stared back. “Not if you don’t want me to.” she promised.

Chuuya relaxed slightly. “Good. Yeah. Well, when… that happened, it was always okay, because he was there to comfort me, and tell me ‘its okay, I’m here’. And I would always be there for him. And now…” Chuuya broke off, his voice filled with emotion. He composed himself quickly and resumed, in still a slightly shaky voice.

“Also… he was the one who encourage me to come out to you guys… do you remember?”

Gin nodded, “I do. That was so brave of you.”

Chuuya sighed sadly, “well, Dazai was the reason I has the courage to do it.

“It… I mean… the whole experience gave me a rush, like I was on a rollercoaster, ya know? It made me giddy with love and happiness, but now, its over, so suddenly. And all I feel is kind of… sick.

“But mostly… I just never knew I could feel that much. Like… I’m… I don’t… I’m hardly human. Yet all these emotions that I couldn’t explain, let alone understand just filled me, and… it was all because of him.

“So yeah. That’s the way I loved him. And God, did I love him. I see that now.”

Chuuya sniffed, and breathed deeply.

“It’s alright,” said Gin.

“I know! I’m fine!” insisted Chuuya.

“Yes. But… that’s a lot. I think you should tell him how you feel. Then maybe… he will come back. For all of us.”

Chuuya looked at her sceptically. “I could never say all that to him.”

“Well maybe, you don’t have to.”

The confusion was evident on Chuuya’s face, so Gin continued,

“You’re a musician, right?”

“How on earth do you-“ Chuuya interjected.

“Never mind how I know. But you could write him a song. Saying everything you’ve just told me.” she suggested softly.

Chuuya stared vacantly at the city.

“I… well, … maybe I could.”

But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain,

And it's 2 a.m. and I'm cursing your name,

So in love that I acted insane

And that's the way I loved you.

Breaking down and coming on out,

It's a roller coaster kind of rush,

And I never knew I could feel that much,

But that's the way I loved you

HELLO MY FRIENDS I have returned from the abyss. This fic took /ages/ as I just kept procrastinating it but it is now finally here.

Obviously I based it on the lyrics to the Taylor Swift song "The Way I Loved You". I just thought the lyrics fit Soukou so damn well. I like taking inspiration from random stuff like this :) I have more lyrics fanfics in the works so lemme know if you'd want to see that and if there's any songs or ships you'd particularly like to see :)!

AS USUAL any feedback is gratefully received. I want to know what you guys think!! I had loads of fun writing this so I hope you like it too!!

K bye I will return. Soonish. :)

Edit: oh yeah tags are a thing

[mythalism]

yall why the hell have I never seen anyone talking about im your man by mitski and solavellan. please tell me ive just missed it because

[inanearlieround]

petericknation what’s up

[emily-mooon]

So honey take me by the hand, and we can sign some papers

Forget the invitations, floral arrangements, and breadmakers!

[rinniessance]

showing up under his door with nothing but a lingerie set under your coat and asking if he's ready to unwrap his gift

[shmothman]

hands (put your empty hands in mine)

vash x reader drabble (rated g, 550 words)

Scarred from wrist to fingertip—just like the rest of him—Vash’s hands are never anything but gentle and careful when they wrap around yours. All of him is careful with you, often borderline treating you as if you’re fragile, but can you blame him when human life so often is? It’s only out of love for you; out of fear that you’ll be ripped away from him. Still, he can’t bear to hold on too tight. The guilt (of putting you in danger just by keeping you close) is something he’ll never fully be able to escape, but it’s something you can help lessen, with patience and love and the constant reminder that he is deserving.

At first, even just holding your hand is nearly enough to make him cry. He’s denied himself a great many things over the past hundred and thirty years—affection chief among them—and accepting it now is difficult, even when it’s something he wants more than anything else. Give him some time to get used to it; he’ll be seeking it out constantly before long. Your hand in his becomes an anchor, a comfort, a reminder that you’re here and you’re real and he isn’t alone anymore. You’re nothing short of a miracle, to him.

Though, of course, he gets nervous, especially in the beginning—his hand sweaty and trembling as he gives you a wobbly grin; he might even give you his prosthetic hand to hold (although any other time he favors the other) to keep you from seeing just how nervous he is. Not that you can’t tell. You know him too well for that. He’ll be even more awestruck when you take his right hand anyway, interlacing your fingers with his and giving him a squeeze of reassurance. You don’t mind if his palm is a little bit sweaty. Yours is too.

Not to say that you shy away from his left hand: though the metal gets far too hot to hold beneath the desert suns, it cools in the evening like everything else, and you can sit with him, tracing the nicks and scuffs of it. He doesn’t have much feeling in it, but watching you draw mindless patterns against it makes his heart sing. Still, the fact that it’s a weapon makes him hesitant to touch you with it; he wishes he could keep that part of himself away from you entirely. You coax him out of that melancholy every time, though—especially when you take it and press it to your cheek, swearing the coolness of it feels like heaven.

One surefire way to get him to melt is to brush your lips over his knuckles, or even better, press a kiss to his open palm when he goes to cup your cheek. He’s always red-faced around you, but when you give him such open adoration, your lips against the calluses he’s acquired in all his years as a gunslinger, he lights up like a roman candle, pink to the tips of his ears. (And if you compliment his hands? If you tell him how safe and loved they make you feel? How you love that he chooses to use them for good? For love and peace? Vash has long since decided that he’s yours forever, but this only cements that fact tenfold.)

[oknowkiss]

my lucky number - 42, drarry. please and thank you!

you got it! please enjoy! ~600 words, rated T for language. les champs-elysées - joe dassin

Harry decides to have breakfast in Paris. He’s twenty-one, it’s nine in the morning on the sixth of June, and the cleansing power of his hangover has allowed him to realise he can go anywhere he wants, with anyone, to do anything, for the rest of his life. 

His Portkey lands in an alley a short distance from the Eiffel Tower, because after the agent had asked him where he’d like to go, and after he’d replied, “Erm… France?” she had said, “The first timer package, then. Return trip is half eight. Here’s your list of attractions and instructions for a basic translation charm.” 

No matter. He has breakfast at a street-side cafe, espresso and carbs and sunlight quieting the pounding inside his head. 

He visits several of the attractions on the Portkey agent’s list: the Notre Dame, the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre. All of them are far too crowded, and by midday he’s resolved not to follow the list. After all, isn’t that the point of this excursion? To do what he wants? 

Harry has a glass too many of vin rouge at lunch and his confidence inflates in direct opposition to his experience with France, his ability to manage having time to himself, his general awareness of his surroundings and how to navigate them.

Which is to say: it’s now seven, ninety minutes before his Portkey takes him back home, and all he’s done is become increasingly lost. Harry chews on a bite of pasta and wonders if it counts as being lost, if you never had a destination to begin with? Perhaps he’s been lost — or not lost — since leaving the Forbidden Forest four years ago. Every day a step further into the void, away from his intended purpose. 

A loud, sudden coughing rouses Harry from his thoughts. Harry’s head snaps to the left, his hands already in fists, ready for action. 

“What the bloody fucking hell are you doing here?” Draco Malfoy splutters, staring at Harry with watery eyes. Around them, several diners look away. A lover’s quarrel, they presume. In Paris? How droll. 

“Malfoy?” Harry asks stupidly. It’s obviously Malfoy. No one else looks like him, which is actually quite annoying seeing as it means Harry can’t chalk it up to misconception when Malfoy sneaks into his wank fantasies. 

And no, he doesn’t want to talk about that.

“The one and only, thanks to you,” Malfoy replies meanly. A steak sits half-eaten on his plate, red juice pooling on the china. It doesn’t not remind Harry of the second floor girls bathroom.

“If you’re looking for sympathy, you’ve got the wrong orphan,” Harry says. Then, because he’s already bored with this argument, “You live in Paris, do you?” 

“What’s it to you?” Malfoy asks. He crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Nothing, I suppose.” Harry shrugs. “Forget it.” He turns back to his food.

“It’s my birthday,” Malfoy says, calling Harry’s attention again. “Well, yesterday. This is my gift to myself.”

“Eating dinner alone?” Harry asks, amused. 

“Go ahead and laugh—” Malfoy starts, but Harry cuts him off.

“I’m not laughing at you,” Harry says. “I—” He bites his lip. “I do the same thing.” 

“Other people are exhausting,” Malfoy insists, his face red. 

“Hell is other people,” Harry says. Then he's blushing, too. “I read that on a bag once.” 

“And did it hurt, reading all those words in one go?” Malfoy says. A smile plays at the corner of his mouth. 

Harry checks his watch. Half-seven. He looks down at his pasta. Mostly eaten.

“I’ve an hour before my Portkey,” Harry says, and he’s barreling forward blindly now, no idea where this will land. “Shall we order dessert?

(give me a number 1 - 100 & i'll write you a drabble based on the corresponding song on my spotify wrapped)

[hollowedpurple]

Thinking about the lyrics that goes along the lines of “I couldn't hear your silence over the sound of our happiness” again and of course Satoru couldn’t hear anything else they were separated for their missions and spent more time alone and had more time to think.

In that time Suguru kept thinking of all the ways the world was wrong and how he couldn’t find it in himself to laugh again, but Satoru was thinking of all the times he made Suguru laugh instead. Because he could already see the world for more than what it seemed. Because even though he could, he narrowed his world to Suguru and Suguru’s little giggles he got out of him only.

And because Gojo remembers Geto the way he was whenever he was with him, he remembers him happy.

[onearmedlegend]

Seventeen Going Under by Sam Fender is a Billy Hargrove song. Post-S3, drained of all his energy and his father took off like a bat out of hell when he realized his son was still kicking.

“I was far too scared to hit him, but I’d do it in a heartbeat now. That’s the thing with anger, it begs to stick around.”

He remembered admitting to Steve in a low voice and meaningless subtext he swore the pretty boy wouldn’t pick up on. He was leaving; Steve wouldn’t ever see him again. But as Billy got in his car, with his items all packed away in the backseat, Steve was in the rear view, biting his lip and swollen red eyes. But it was hard to see, when his own eyes were fighting back tears seeing the boy he wanted so badly.

“Embarrass yourself for someone, crying like a child.”

He thought about his mother while in a piece-of-shit apartment on the outskirts of Indianapolis. How she was drained after fighting with his dad and he’d leave to get a drink.

“I see my mother. She cries on the floor encumbered.”

He’s not 17 anymore; he’s almost 19 at this point. But damn, does it feel like he froze at 17 and is drowning. He needed to build a new life. Get out. But when he was under that roof that felt like a cage? What life could he imagine having? And now that he’s undeniably alone when he could’ve had everything. If he just asked Steve to leave with him.

“I’m seventeen going under.”

[i-miss-summertime]

What's your Ianthony Orville Peck song analysis!? And I'd be interested in any other Ianthony song analysis pieces you want to share too!

anon, i love you for enabling me <3

The song I'm obsessing over for them specifically is "How Far Will We Take It" by Orville Peck and Noah Cyrus and the lyrics are so perfect for their time apart and early reunion (beautiful song as well btw, the production is great if anyone wants to listen lol)

This verse feels based in Ian's perspective in the between years. Continuously waking up and showing up to this business that started from this crazy thing he and Anthony both created and shared.

Then the second part where it feels like it speaks to his perseverance of being able to step up with Defy shut down and became president of Smosh. Anthony and other cast continuously mention how it couldn't have survived without Ian leading the ship and by the time Anthony came around again, it was still succeeding with Ian's hard work.

Second verse feels more like Anthony coming back. As much as he loves Smosh as well, what brought him back was his love to create with Ian. It's rooted in their friendship and being able to be with Ian again feels like a major aspect of what Anthony came back for. And also the visual of Ian welcoming him back and closing the door behind him like "you're here and we're in this together for the long haul" as they literally bought a company together (still baffling if I think about it long enough lol)

Also "felt the fire but couldn't see the flames" reads to me like Anthony feeling the anger and sadness of the last years at Smosh but not able to understand his negative emotions were aimed at Defy and not Smosh/Ian until later. Like feeling the pain but not able to identify the real source.

This part of the chorus and the line "I know that you felt the same" though! Even if Ian was more resistant to talk about their feelings during the NYC trip ("cause I've been waiting, don't wanna face it", they both felt things weren't the same and they weren't as close of friends. Neither of them could break through to each other in the state they were in being overworked, unhappy, and not having the chance to grow more as people.

"We're all alone now, how far will we take it?" like they had to have time separate and see how to succeed on their own. And they both did a really good job at it! They were both able to find ways to step up and push themselves as independent creatives without being Ian-and-Anthony. But even then, still not getting the real chance to find someone who could match their energy in their comedy writing and the pure history they have with one another as childhood friends ("No getting used to living without you"). They were still soul tired, even if they were doing well, they still felt the desire to be with each other regardless of a brand or company.

Now this last variation on the chorus kills me cuz it feels like early reunion to the max, I love it!

"I tried to love you" like shipper goggles aside, its very hard for men to be able to express love for their friends and it's clearly still not natural to them but they're trying! The I love you during Anthony's funeral? Clearly a bit awkward to get out but still he said he loved his friend!

"Cause I've been waiting, don't wanna waste it/ We're all alone now how far will we take it?"

This fully reads as them going independent from Mythical after buying back Smosh. They don't want to waste it, they know they want to do this as long as they possibly can and are working so hard for Smosh to succeed together.

They're alone but now they're alone together, Ian and Anthony at the helm of the ship again, now they're seeing how far they can take it :')

[wool-string]

The other bonus ideas I had for day 1

[witch128chick]

I need to write a fic for these lyrics it's genius

[her-canine-teeth]

GUESS WHAT MFSSS

[merakiui]

i think you might be my favorite twst writer. i worked my way through your azul stuff on ao3 before finding your tumblr and reading almost everything here too. tmdg was incredible and im working my way through dru. you definitely inspired my new rollo obsession. anyway never stop writing i love everything you come out with (esp any ceo azul stuff its altered the chemicals of my brain) and i cant wait to also read riddle fic im sure it too will slow cook my brain like a pot roast

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ੈ♡‧₊˚ thank you so much for reading and enjoying my stories (both on ao3 and tumblr)!!!! It's always a success when I can spread the Rollo love. He's so perfect and has wonderful yandere potential. I hope to write many things for him!!! (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟthe next Rollo fic I intend to write at some point is the dead dove fic (as it was the winner of the poll). The duality of Rollo is so scrumptious to me. Nothing is better than a delusional man who spirals into madness due to his obsessions.

I'm happy you can obsess over Rollo and ceo Azul. He's also very wonderful. So yummy!!!! And the Riddle fic,,, uuwaaa I'm really excited to post it. It has now crawled up to 60 pages because my restraint is nonexistent and I love Dr. Rosehearts too much. ^^;;; I hope another long fic can be enjoyed. orz

[patriciaselina]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 薬屋のひとりごと - 日向夏 | Kusuriya no Hitorigoto - Hyuuga Natsu Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Jinshi/Maomao (Kusuriya no Hitorigoto) Characters: Jinshi (Kusuriya no Hitorigoto), Maomao (Kusuriya no Hitorigoto), Emperor (Kusuriya no Hitorigoto) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Office, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe, Pining, Jealousy, One-Sided Attraction, Jinshi's Real Name, Title from a Stray Kids Song, Hangover, Fluff, Three-act romcom, Domestic Fluff Summary:

Maomao is a cat that Jinshi just happened to take on the responsibility of feeding (with weird forensic accounting cases and crazy expensive traditional medicine). Jinshi should not be mad if she wants someone else to feed her the attention he usually lavishes on her, for a change. So, what exactly happened here?

Maomao's eyes sparkle like the stars in the sky when she laughs at something, the mischievous grin Jinshi both loves and fears clear as day on her face as she looks up and sees the guy flush beet red. Jinshi wishes that grin was focused on him instead, but he also knows he is bad at giving up on lost causes.

"I'm not sulking," Jinshi pouts, obviously sulking.

basically i was watching 2kids room and this somehow turned into a daydream which in turn became jinshi maomao fic. why is it a modern au? why is maomao an accountant? what the hell is jinshi's real name in this reality? these are all questions i cannot and will not answer at this time

[winterwrxter]

whoooo! Some random art I decided to do with a color palette. Lyrics are from the song Estranger by Jack Stauber (brooo Jack Stauber's music is a bop) Version with blood under the cut. :]

Silly Bryce (was lowkey thinking of my fic TCOBO while drawing this sooo 😗✌️)