#anyway. time to listen to paramore | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fuxuannie · 3 months

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ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ 𝐢'𝐦 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | kenji sato x gender neutral reader

love mail — reallllyy quick req from a friend (this took 20 mins pls bear w me) ヽ(o´3`o)ﾉ i love u all chu chu, this is an OVERLY done trope with this song but guys please let me 😞 be delulu

︰꒱꒱ YOU AND KENJI USED TO BE BEST FRIENDS. you met when he transferred to america, and it was mostly due to connections. it was around the time he had gotten popular, but not quiet there yet — and you had been part of an underground band that began gaining traction as well. you two got along well, late night banters, him listening to you sing while he would practice baseball.. you became each others routines. his practices would feel empty without your presence, and your singing wasn't as fun without him.

when he had to move back, you were devastated. you were both at the highest points of your careers, and you relied heavily on each other during an equally difficult time — so to hear him have to leave, and not even sure for how long.. it scared you. he'd likely be missing so many of your milestones, and it's not like you could beg him to stay either. you two were.. just friends. nothing more. even if your heart screamed at you to be something more, to tell him that as you dropped him off at the airport, — when he turned his back away from you and was about to enter.. when he actually looked back before going inside. regret finally settled in when he was no longer in view, and you crumbled, feeling lost as you realized you couldn't see him anymore.

years have passed since that day, and you eventually had to move on. life gets busy, after all. bu5 it wasn't like you weren't keeping tabs on him, though. you had his games livestreaming during rehearsals and you would even watch some of his interviews in japan. one of these days, however — you had accidentally kept a live interview running as you entered the room of your makeup department, preparing for your third live performance of your big tour. not getting to see the rest of the stream as the question for ken sato followed; "with the giants big comeback season coming to an end, do you ever plan to return to america?" the journalist asked curiously, and kenji only laughed — feeling rather excited to answer the question. "yes, actually. i'll be attending a concert with a few old friends, and i'm looking forward to that."

he looked straight to the camera, his smile soft, — he was hoping, praying that you were watching. "i'm coming back, sweetheart."

the fifth night was the biggest one the whole tour, it had completely sold out tickets — and that made you worry. not only that, but now the rumors of ken sato coming back to america were going around.. and the coincidences — they seemed to align a bit too well. but you shook your head, deciding something as trivial as someone from your past be a distraction was something you weren't about to let slide, so you close your laptop and meet your bandmates back stage, chatting away about how exciting tonight was going to be.

on the other hand, kenji arrived in america yesterday. missing just the fourth night of your tour. and decided to plan a little surprise for you, with the power of connections — he had gotten in touch with your manager and bandmates, and it was going to be the most memorable performance of your career.

"how about singing 'still into you' by paramore for our last song?" your drummer suggested, smiling cheekily. "a cover song? a strange suggestion," you respond, only for your guitarist to chime in with an equally endearing smirk. "not at all, we all know the song anyway. i used to play it for my gigs." he shrugged, and you eyed your amazing bandmates curiously. "are you all plotting something...?"

"absolutely not.."

"you're crazy!"

"we just want to play a good song to end the night."

despite their obviously suspicious responses, you shrugged it off. it was a pretty catchy song anyway, and who knows — maybe you'll get to let out those unsaid feelings for kenji through singing.. hoping he'd hear, even if it felt crazy to even imagine that he'll hear, or reciprocate.

the stadium had slowly filled up with people, and in only an hour there were now hundreds of people waiting for your band to show up on stage, — and you still didn't feel any less nervous even after four other shows prior to this. your manager noticed your nerves, and put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "you'll kill it, (name)." she tells you, giving a big smile. "just perform the last song and you'll be able to head home, yeah?" and that helped you feel a little better.. only a few songs, and perform the cover song, and you will be able to rest again. yeah.. not so bad! you can do this. you will do this.

taking a deep breath — you're the first one to enter the spotlight; people cheered your name, and you relished in the feeling. god, you wouldn't trade performing for the world. as you introduced the rest of your bandmates, who received an equal amount of uproar and applause, you spoke into the mic. "thank you, everyone! we're excited to perform here tonight, — and we've got a special surprise for you at the end, so make sure to stick around for that!" you smiled, the crowd going insane with cheers. all your problems seemed to melt away when you were on stage and infront of an audience.

as you performed the last original song of your band, the applause seemed to only get louder after each ending. you had sat down on the stage, dangling your feet on the edge as you tried to get a little interactive with the audience. "tonight, we're going to be performing a.. cover song! a little unusual, but the band seemed insistent on it — and who am i to deny my family?" you stood up, laughing as the crowd began to once again lose their absolute minds as the instrumental of 'still into you' began.

"you know your cue?" kenji couldn't even focus as he hid backstage, his eyes didn't leave you the moment you went out there and started singing. my god, you were as breath—taking as he remembered, and he put no effort into hiding how he felt as your manager rolled your eyes. "wait till the last few lines, loverboy. don't disappoint."

"some things just, some things just make sense and one of those is you and i!"

okay, maybe you needed this. these lyrics almost resonated with you personally, — with the feelings you've held back for years. you sang for someone who will never get to hear these words from you, and you sang with your entire heart, hoping that by some chance — maybe he'd know. (which he definitely did)

"and even after all this time—"

you needed a breather, and thank goodness the crowd started singing the next bit for you. as you were focused on breathing, your bandmates looked at each other, and to kenji hiding backstage. signaling it was almost his time. taking one deep breath, you continued, your smile much brighter and determined as you kept a firm grip on the mic.

"let em wonder how we got this far, cause i don't really need to wonder at all!" kenji felt a quick shove behind him, immediately rushing him to get on that stage behind you. he had a hoodie up and his head down so to the audience members who were far away — they didn't get a good look at the random hooded man on stage. but to the vip members? they were desperately trying to get a closer look, trying to make sense of who exactly the mysterious figure was. "yeah, after all this time—"

"i'm still into you,"

he'll start by lifting his head up as he walked towards you, and almost immediately, gasps erupt from the vip audience, making you a little confused. if only you saw the wide grinned kenji behind you, he looked like he was looking at an angel, and admittedly? you were one to him.

"i'm still into you,"

next to go was his hoodie, and that confirmed to everyone attending that night who exactly was on that stage with you. now the cheers were getting louder, a few audience members were even pointing behind you; did the visuals mess up? a few people seemed to notice your confusion, so the fans began to yell 'turn around!', so this had to be a visual issue. turning around, your heart drops.

"i'm still—" the sight of his smile, in person, after so long.. you felt your heart genuinely skip a beat as thousands of bottled up feelings suddenly came over you. and all you could do was clutch your microphone, needing to focus the song — with that being the very thin rope holding you back from erupting into tears.

"sweetheart." he calls for you, god, that nickname had you weak.

"—into you."

#♡ — 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 #ken sato #kenji sato #ultraman rising #ken sato x reader #kenji sato x reader #ultraman rising x reader #kenji sato x you #ken sato x you

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charlie-lec-stories · 5 months

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Nightmares // CL16 & MV1

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Original Female Character / Max Verstappen

Summary: Everyone deals with their own battle, but they are always easier faced together.

Warnings: Abusive parenting, homophobia, abandonment issues, sexism, grief and childhood trauma.

Author’s Note: This is about companionship, we all deal with our own pain and we all have a past that still haunts us. This is about facing those battles hand in hand with the people you love. I wrote this some time ago, listening to 'Return the favor' and 'Therapy', both by All Time Low, and 'The only exception' by Paramore. I highly recommend listen to those tracks. I hope you like the story. Rate: +16 (descriptions of violence)

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The cold wind from outside filtered through a small dent on Max's bedroom window and the contact it made with his uncovered skin made him shiver. He thought about all the other punishments he had endured before over his 16 years of life and he assured himself that it could have gotten worse. Spending the winter night on his bedroom floor, in underwear, was way better than when he had to spend a week sleeping in the back yard because he came in second on an important race. It was also better than when his father left him alone in that gas station, the fear so intense that he ended up crying on the bathroom floor, hiding from the strangers around. At least he was in his home, in his room and he had his stuffed lion to keep him company. He gripped it tightly, feeling a little stupid for keeping such a childish object when he was that old, but it was the only thing that brought him a little comfort. He thought about his mother, who gave him the lion, and wondered what his life would be like if he had stayed with his mom and sister instead of his father. Would he be happier? Would he be as good at racing as he was? Would his mother have accepted him for who he was? He had an answer for that one: Yes. His mother would have chosen to love him anyways, he was sure of that. He wished, with his whole heart, to close his eyes and wake up in a better place, where he was loved for who he was. So he closed his eyes and waited for his wish to come true.

Max woke up in a cold sweat, he could still feel his fingers and toes frozen, the floor against his bare legs. A decade had passed from that night, but he still had nightmares about it once in a while. His childhood always came back whenever he was stressed or with low batteries. It was like his brain tried to sabotage him, filling him with more pain than he already felt. He looked to his left and found Charles sound asleep, his arms under the pillow, bringing it closer to his face, a peaceful look adorning his features. He knew that Charles had his own battles, and that he dreamed of his own nightmares, but how he wished he had the kind of father Charles had. Hervé was a loving husband and parent and even though he left this Earth way too early, he left a wonderful mark on everyone who knew him. His children loved him, his wife Pascale loved him. What did his father do? He also left marks, his mom had an order of protection against him, his sister was terrified of him, and Max did everything he could to run away as far as possible so he didn't have to be near him. If he could, he would bring back Hervé and give up his father. With a sigh and feeling a little guilty for his thoughts, he finally got up. He had to look for his girl, who was definitely hiding somewhere instead of being in bed with them.

The sky was still pretty dark outside, the stars shining on Monaco's natural ceiling, the full moon big over the Mediterranean Sea. He found her sitting on the floor of the balcony, a cigarette between her lips and her eyes lost in the waves that crashed rhythmically on the beach. Charles hated when she smoked, so she did it outside, so the stick of the nicotine wouldn't stay on her clothes. Max didn't like it either, but he tolerated the habit because he knew that it helped her calm down, one day he would make her switch to something healthier. Some day. Before stepping out, he caught a glimpse of the beloved lion on one of the living room shelves, so he grabbed it and hugged it close, a familiar calmness running all over his body. If she heard him walk out, she didn't show, but she must definitely have noticed his presence when he sat down next to her. They were used to the silent conversations, they had had them their whole friendship. Secret gazes, millimetric gestures that only they could read, the changes on each other's skins when the other was around. They were used to the effect they had on each other, so he knew that she felt him there when the hairs of her arms stood up and her breathing changed, because even if she didn't say anything, her body did.

"Which one was it this time?". She asked, not even looking at him.

"The night I came out". He had said it so many times that his voice didn't break anymore.

"That one is tough". The comment was swallowed by the poof she gave to the cigarette, but he got it.

"It was. It always comes back whenever I'm happy with you, but angry at racing". And it made sense, after all the punishment wasn't only for coming out of the closet, it was also because Jos was sure that 'the queerness' of Max would make him a mediocre driver.

"You know that losing this championship wasn't your lack of concentration or skill. Charles is as great as us, and for the love of God, Ferrari finally did things right for once". He knew that, still, he lost and he always had a hard time losing. He lost in 2024 against her, he lost in 2025 against Charles, would he ever be able to win again? "You are a 3 times World Champion, Max. You don't owe anything to anyone, and I can assure you that you're not mediocre".

He pulled her close and took her cigarette away, she was about to complain when he pressed his lips against hers, kissing her deeply. He believed her, every word, and he was grateful that he had her to remind him of the amazing person he was and could be. They pulled apart when they heard movement inside, the curtains of the living room moving aside as Charles walked out to the balcony. Sleep was still written all over his face, but he woke up fully pretty quickly when he felt the dense atmosphere that wrapped them up. He walked over to them, a mixture of curiousness and worry in his eyes as he scanned them over. They pulled apart to make some room for him to sit in the middle, Charles noticed the lion and the cigarettes, understanding the situation. Resting his back against the building's wall, he pulled them to his chest and ran his hands up and down their arms, hoping for it to be enough. He saw Max's grip tighten around the old stuffed animal, the marks of his pyton's grip over the years clear on it. Charles pulled him a little bit closer and kissed his head.

"You're anything but ordinary".

She did all she could to get loose, but the grip on her arm was so tight it was impossible to break. She screamed and kicked as her mother dragged her to the room, she wished that her racing suit was ticker, so her arm wouldn't hurt that much. Her father was crying and pleading behind them, asking for his wife to finally let go, but it was pointless, when had she ever listened to anything he had to say? The mud of her shoes drew patterns on their living room floor as they neared her bedroom and she wondered if her mother was actually going to use the chancla on her. Her body made contact with the carpeted floor of her room and her mother grabbed her face to make her look at her. She screamed at her face, about how she was a disgrace, a 'marimacho', a 'zorra' playing with the boys instead of being a 'señorita', she went on and on about the shame she brought to the family. She reminded her that no daughter of hers would do something like racing, wear the clothes she wore and go around covered in mud and filth like she did. But the girl just muted the rest of the screams, she just let her say whatever she wanted, because she was not going to stop her from chasing her dream. She had just met the best boys in the world and she was going to race those boys for the rest of her life. No matter what. She felt the chancla hit her back, but it didn't hurt her anymore, no when she knew that it was the price to pay for sneaking out to race. Her mother would change her mind one day, but for that day to come, she had to take it today. No. Matter. What.

She woke up to the sound of the front door closing. Max and Charles were probably back from the supermarket. She sighed as he got up from the couch, the feeling of the chancla still lingering on her skin. It was the worst, the rubber hitting on the same place, over and over again, but it was more hurtful to her pride. The humiliation that came with the beating, the screams, the words, the hate on her mother's eyes. She remembered that beating like it was yesterday, because it was the one that changed everything. It was the first time that, when she was finally left alone in her room, she wasn't scared anymore. That week she met Pierre and he introduced her to Max and Charles the very same day that her mother gave her that beating. Meeting the boys and winning a race against them gave her the push she needed to hold on to her dream and never let go. Her motto was born that day: 'No matter what'. She took it to heart, and kept pushing and pushing, she took as many more beatings as she had, but she kept sneaking out, even if her mother dropped the chancla to grab the wooden spoon from the kitchen, even if the skin of her hands was red and burning from the hard wood against it. She kept pushing, and she became world champion. A hand on her back brought her back to reality and she relaxed against Charles' hand once his scent made her aware of his presence.

"Which one was it?". He asked softly as he ran his hand up and down her back.

"The day we met". She admitted, Max placed the bags on the floor and walked up to them.

"It's okay, Schat, you're safe now". She smiled softly at them.

"I know. It's just that her birthday is in a few days". Charles nodded, understanding.

"You know you don't have to go if you don't want to, Amour". It was her turn to nod.

"I also know that. But she changed a lot over the years. I know that we still have out problems and that she's not a fan of our relationship, but I can see that she's trying". Max was a lot less forgiving, but he was also aware that he wasn't the one with the best record of family choices, he still visited his father.

"I agree that she seems to be trying, Amour, and I admire you a lot for being able to see that and be so forgiving. I still want you to put yourself above everything. Take care of yourself, because you're not any of those things she said. You're wonderful, and we are beyond proud of who you are, okay?". Charles placed his hand against her cheek and she snuggled against it. "We are so very proud, Amour".

Charles rubbed his nose with hers, making her giggle a little, and bringing a smile to Max's lips. It always worked, because if there was something that she needed was softness. It was something that her dad did, treat her with gentleness, with love and with trust. He always believed in her, even if he was so afraid of his wife and had to take even more beatings and insults than her. She didn't blame him, but she was sure that she would never make the same mistakes her dad made. So she looked for gentle men, men with nice words and tender touches, nothing like her mother, nothing like who her dad settled for. And she found Charles and Max, the embodiment of kindness, enough for her heart to skip a beat and her shoulders to relax under their touch. It felt good, being able to be loved, laughing on a daily basis, relying on them when she needed and giving herself the chance of being an open book, unafraid and never judged. A lonely tear fell down her cheek and Max caught it before it made it to her jaw, wiping it away with a swift movement of his thumb. It made her look at him, his blue eyes looking back at her with the same adoration they have been for the past decade. Her heart made a few jumps inside her chest. Max pressed his forehead gently against hers, making her close her eyes with him, the feeling of Charles' hand agains the skin of her back, where the burning of the chancla was just a bitter memory in the back of her mind. Max's lips barely touch hers.

"You're a dream come true".

Charles ran, his lungs burning as the air coming inside was not enough to keep his body moving. The fog around the graveyard and the darkness of the night made his heart race faster, the feeling of it threatening to jump out of his ribcage. He called their names into the silence of the dead, but he couldn't hear anything. Does sound really exist if there's no one to hear it? He passed gravestone after gravestone, the names of his family and friends written in each one of them. He cried, the tears blurring his vision as he desperately looked for their names. He didn't want to be alone, in the dark, in the cold, with the dead. The place seemed to never end, filled with all the people he loved but weren't there anymore, the air felt tight around his body, sour inside his mouth, painful coming into his lungs. He kept searching. What would he do if he couldn't find them? How could he keep on living if they weren't by his side? He couldn't be alone, he didn't want to. He needed them, he needed his friends, his family. He kept searching, because it was the only thing he could do, and as the names kept appearing he felt like his heart just couldn't take it anymore. He fell to his knees, two stones right in front of him. Suddenly, he couldn't breathe anymore, the feeling of his lungs contracting for air but nothing going in. There they were, the names he hoped to never see graved in stone, right in front of his eyes. Charles clawed at the grass, removed the dirt, he felt the cold and humid soil under his fingertips as clear as he felt the daggers inside his chest. He just wanted to pass out, to turn to dust right there so he could join them wherever they were, because no life was worth living without them. But he had had this nightmare before, so he knew, he knew that he was never going to pass out, because this was his biggest fear: living the rest of his life mourning his own.

He woke up alone in the hotel room bed, a halo of cold sweat around him and he inhaled as hard as he could to keep his lungs full. He felt a rush of calm run down his spine when he felt the air come in. He searched for the dirt under his fingernails, only to find them as clean as they were when he went to sleep last night. Getting up, he gave up the longest sigh as he gathered everything he needed to jump in the shower. He needed it, he needed to get rid of the stench of the graveyard that still lingered on his nose, the humidity of the air clenched to his skin, but mostly, he needed to wash away the feeling of loneliness that haunted him still. As the water ran down his body, cleansing him like a religious ritual taking away his sins, he felt the same tug in his heart as he did a few years back. The guilt of that feeling settled inside his belly, like a parasite eating him inside out. He remembered the fear of closeness, how he refused to accept that he loved Max and Y/N because he was terrified of ever losing them, how he had found solace in keeping a comfortable distance, how he convinced himself that he was content with loneliness. He refused to love someone because he knew that the grief is as great as the love you feel. But they found their way into his heart and now he couldn't kick them out. He was destined to suffer, to live in pain. To be alone. He heard movement outside the bathroom as he stepped out of the shower. He opened the door to find his partners changing the bedding. They knew that he hated to be alone in the hotel rooms, he ended up getting sick and tired of sleeping alone over the weekend.

"Which one was it, Poopie?". Max asked, even though the messy sheets and the shower were a big hint. He just wanted to be sure.

"The graveyard". He sat on the bed, the smell of clean sheets comforting against the odor of the humid dirt that he could still remember.

"We're still here, Charlie". She reassured him, her hand on his tight applying a little pressure to ground him there.

"But you'll leave". He replayed softly. She pressed her hand more, a little proof to his heart that they were there.

"Everyone leaves, Poopie, but that doesn't mean you'll be alone". Max sat by his side and ran his finger through his hair, a gesture that brought some warmth to his chest.

"You can't know that". The risk was just so much, too great. "The more I love you the more it'll hurt".

"We know that, because we love just as much, Charles". Max pulled him into a side hug, his head resting against the Dutchman's collarbones. "Loving is a risk and we are all afraid of taking that risk. But, I have known since I met you, that there's just one person that everyone is willing to take the risk for, and that person is you. You're the greatest man I know. Loyal, just, kind, hardworking, you are the epitome of greatness. It's impossible for someone like you to ever be alone".

It wasn't just the words, but how they reverberated inside Max's chest, in sync with his heartbeat that made Charles believe him. It was the warm feeling of Y/N's hand still on his tight. They were there, they were worth it, the fear, the pain. He would rather spend his life mourning them if it gave him the chance to have them for as long as Death allowed him. He was still a work in progress, but he was on his way to believing, trusting, risking. He felt Y/N moving to sit on his lap, her hands carefully adjusting the towel around his hips so it wouldn't loose. She pulled him away from Max and placed his head against her chest, her own heartbeat now strongly pumping against his face. It gave him peace of mind. The feeling of them there, Max's hand still on his hair, her soft hands on his face. They made him feel loved, they made him feel like there was hope in life, no matter how hard the road was. And he finally felt like he may be that special person Max told him he was. Maybe he was one of those people that'll never be alone. Maybe, just maybe, he didn't need to be so scared. Y/N pulled him away and pressed her lips to his forehead, erasing the frown that tinted his features. Maybe, he was the reason why they were willing to take the risk of loving, even if their whole lives they had only met pain and hurt. Maybe the risk was as great for them as it was for him, so maybe he was the one they risked it all for, even if they said they would never. Maybe, he was comfortable with loneliness, except when it came to them. And he knew, the moment she mumbled against him, that he was...

"You're the only exception".

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I hope you guys like this one. It's really hurt/comfort and I feel like it turned out great. Like, reblog and comment, like you guys always do. Much love!

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader #lestappen imagine #lestappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max vestappen one shot #lestappen fic

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finleycannotdraw · 11 months

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can u recommend some bands? i think i like ur music taste and i am terrible at finding music

ty :)

of COURSE I can <3 you’ve probably heard of some of these, but maybe there’ll be some you haven’t! I don’t know what you already like, so… here we go :)

Hozier. Yeah this was always going to be first on the list I’m currently listening to basically nothing else! He’s an Irish folk/soul/blues/etc idk musician who uses a lot of religious and mythological themes in his lyrics and has a lot of songs that include social justice commentary.

The Amazing Devil is a folk rock band with an incredibly unique sound. Their songs are incredibly emotional and have an awesome fantasy vibe going on—plus there’s two singers, and they often sing independently from each other, which is something you don’t see often!

Good Morning Bedlam is a bluegrass band that I’ve gotten into recently! They’re sort of like… a mix of the amazing devil and the crane wives?

The Crane Wives, while we’re at it, and

The Oh Hellos. they’re fairly similar and I don’t have a ton to say about their stylistic differences, but they’re all definitely worth checking out!

Florence & The Machine. Most people have heard of them but I always like to recommend them anyway

Alec Benjamin, if you’re into softer indie music! He has a lot of different styles of lyrics, but his voice is consistent, so he’s great to listen to if you’re looking for that sort of variety.

Chxrlotte doesn’t have a lot of music out, but I’m a big fan of the music she has released, including the ones about Good Omens! The others are more angsty which I love too.

The Family Crest is an orchestral indie pop rock band, which blows my mind. I can’t believe orchestra isn’t a more utilized tool in popular lyrical music, because they do it so well.

Good Kid is actually my brother’s favorite band, and I love them too. They’re also indie rock, but they have a very distinctive style and are easy to get into! Plus they haven’t released a shit ton of songs like some other artists, so it isn’t overwhelming to explore their discography.

Jonatha Brooke is an artist I only know about because my mom liked her music a lot in the 90s, but she’s got a super nice voice and has some awesomely relatable lyrics. I especially recommend her album Ten Cent Wings!

Midlake is a super melodic folk rock band. I’m obsessed with their album The Courage of Others, which has a melancholy vibe that’s super easy to get lost in.

Palaye Royale is harder rock than anyone else on the list so far, but they’ve got an awesome style. Unique voice and definitely darker themes in their lyrics.

Tears for Fears is a pop rock band that I love because my dad does. (My parents are musicians—I trust their music taste).

Toad the Wet Sprocket got their name from Monty Python, but PLEASE go listen to the Architect of the Ruin EP. You will not regret it. Also the song Something’s Always Wrong is like… entrenched in my very being.

Elbow is a band that I never see in fandom circles, but they’re definitely not obscure. Check out their album Little Fictions! They’re kind of like Midlake.

Will Wood ranges from chaotic and fun (The Normal Album) to absolutely soul-crushing (in case I make it)! Sometimes even both at the same time!

(I would’ve also put Paramore, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, and other rock/pop punk bands I like on there, but I assumed you already know them.) (If you were looking for harder rock or metal, let me know, because this list is not that.)

If you want more genre-specific recs or even album/song recs, don’t hesitate to ask!! Music is the fuel of my soul.

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allthegothihopgirls · 5 months

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What kind of music do you think each of the Batfam members listen to? (Besides Jason who is obviously a Mitski stan)

OH I LOVE THIS QUESTION!!!!!!! i'm gonna tryyyyy and take this seriously

starting off i think alfred's music taste influences just about everyone in the manor to some degree. lots of classical music flowing through the hallways at most hours of the day, the music reminds everyone of home. i think it's a general rule of thumb in the family that if you want to locate alfred, just follow the sound of mozart.

drawing off a bit of canon, i think dick listens to a lot of popular 80s stuff. the cure, joy division, the b-52s, billy joel, abba etc. that one panel of him humming 'here comes the sun' also comes to mind, i think he'd enjoy the beatles. however i do think he'd also be into some soft rock, maybe just a little bit of more intense stuff too. fleetwood mac's a big one i think he'd like. i've mentioned in a post before how i think dick would enjoy foo fighters in his post-robin rebellion phase, and i stand by that.

i do also enjoy his insane love for david bowie in the live-action titans adaption... very dear to me. i take that as gospel. also have a slight feeling he's a bit of a jazz guy once in a blue moon.

however i don't think he'd be overly into music, (the artists though, that's a whole other thing), i think he's also just happy to flick on the radio to some random dated station... or, don't crucify me... the top hits of the day.

i think jason's taste is a bit more refined. he's the #1 victim of alfred's classical music agenda, sitting in the library he's got something like 'lacrimosa' looping endlessly.

unlike dick who's got a happy-go-lucky approach to music, i think jason feels into it a bit more. he's joyriding through the city and listening to slipknot, sleeping with sirens, misfits etc etc. he's just looking for background music, maybe he's playing dashboard confessional, or... hear me out... lana del rey. he's out on patrol and is playing 90's rap through his helmet's bluetooth.

i think he'd also enjoy amy winehouse, the boys next door, no doubt, alice in chains, and maybe a bit of lorde. he's definitely into more indie bands too, local stuff. makes his own mixtapes and you'd only be able to recognise like 20% of the bands by name. he's also the one batfam member who i think would go to war to defend the songs he feels deeply about.

tim's a bit more difficult to narrow down, but i'll throw 90s alternative out there; jimmy eat world, oasis, radiohead, weezer, pearl jam type stuff. i'm also very set in my ways about femme-pop tim, which is definitely more out there and harder to justify. in terms of that i think beyonce, rihanna, and britney spears are the big three he'd enjoy.

i just think he likes anything with a beat tbh, it's not so much about genre or the actual song, as it is about the mood. similarly to dick, i don't think he's typically meticulous with defining his taste or anything, just happy to listen to whatever's making him feel good.

as for damian, i think anything with soothing instruments entices him. mainly classical, but not just limited to european stuff, i'm thinking of tyagaraja, toru takemitsu etc just off the top of my head. he'd also like elton john, queen, and other older artists with a polished vocal and avantgarde nature. i'm also going to put cartoon soundtrack music into the mix, specifically songs from adventure time. for whatever reason i'm also super drawn into the idea of him being big on kpop, although i don't know enough about the genre to make specific assumptions.

steph (ik she's not exactly batfam but i'm including her anyways) listens to predominantly female artists, and oscillates between very uplifting pop stuff, and.. societal hatred. so i think on one hand she's very into marina and the diamonds, kesha, and olivia rodrigo, but also paramore, hole, fiona apple, lorde etc. in contrast to all of that though she's also a huge fan of the beatles' solo careers, particularly paul mccartney.

cass is into a lot of the music she's done for ballet performances. the music for the snow queen instantly comes to mind as something that would be a favourite of hers. this might be a bit out there, but i think she'd enjoy grimes a lot, mostly because of how enriching it is to just listen to the sounds of, without having to pay much mind to the words she's speaking (grimes never really makes a lot of sense anyways). apart from that i don't think she really listens to all that much music, maybe some 2000s pop she hears on the radio driving around with steph.. i did enjoy the all star gag in batgirls (2022).

babs has a pretty similar taste to steph i think (i believe steph may have gotten some of her taste from her). she's a big fan of stevie nicks, gwen stefani, maybe the cranberries, hole, dolly parton, janet jackson, lauryn hill, and lesley gore. i'd like to say she enjoys a bit of 70s eccentric too, the doors, blondie, bowie etc. i don't think she's overly fussed with what she's listening to, as long as it doesn't sound too watered down and modern-pop like.

and i don't really know enough about duke to make assumptions, so i'm just going to let him sit out of this one. i also don't think bruce has any time for music, except for a bit of classical to help him concentrate every so often.

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honeypiehotchner · 1 year

Text

Devil's Backbone (Unsub!Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part eleven

Well-- Honestly I have nothing to say for myself honestly

Warnings: Hotch is a dick! Majorly!

Don't forget to follow @honeypiehotchnerlibrary & turn on post notifications to be "tagged" when a new part goes up!

Eleven: All I wanted was you -- "All I Wanted" by Paramore

You rolled over in bed to the sound of your alarm beeping. Not your alarm clock, no. An alarm set to go off when the tracker moved. It was four in the morning, and Hotch was already on the move.

You thought that placing the tracker on his car was a ridiculous idea. You thought for sure he’d pick up a different vehicle, but he didn’t. You thought he’d at least search his car for anything abnormal, but he didn’t. He chose to take his own car, and you watched the red dot on your phone screen as he moved.

You couldn’t follow him immediately, but you pulled yourself from your bed regardless. You weren’t sleeping, anyway. You knew you wouldn’t after receiving this assignment from Strauss and being forced to lie to the rest of the team about where you were going to be for a few days. Or more. You didn’t know how long this would take.

It all depended on Hotch. And he was not fit to be depended upon anymore.

You packed your bag yesterday afternoon when you came home. You told the rest of the team you felt like you were coming down with something, food poisoning, maybe, who knows, but you needed to rest. Could be the flu. They believed you and you felt awful for it.

You paced in your kitchen, watching the red dot move. He went to the gas station. He stayed there for a while, so he likely went inside. For breakfast? It was four in the fucking morning, for christ’s sake. He was insane.

Finally, he started moving again, and he headed for the interstate. Fuck. You needed to go.

Around six, Rossi called. “Are you following him?” His voice floated through the speakers of the car, surrounding you.

You rolled your eyes, picking up your hot coffee from the cupholder. “No, I’m sitting on my ass in my apartment. Yes, I’m fucking following him.” You took a sip.

Silence followed.

You sighed, putting the coffee back down. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Rossi said. “I know you’re frustrated.”

I’m more than frustrated. “Yeah. Sorry. Didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“It’s fine, kid,” Rossi replied. “We just need you to see where he’s going, and then you can come home. He’s probably just going to get away, like he said.”

“You don’t think he’s doing anything weird?”

“I think what we have is a string of bad coincidences,” Rossi said. “And I just need you to prove it.”

+++

Aaron went to a motel. That confused you, purely because it was one of the most rundown motels you had ever seen, and he didn’t seem like the type to stay in anything less than a hotel. But he went there, parked, and stayed.

You sat in your car down the road, the motel still in view, but you weren’t entirely. You put the windows in the front down to listen, and for some fresh air. You didn’t want to run the air conditioning the entire time you sat. Or the radio. You needed silence, so you could think.

You debated going to the motel, finding his room, and forcing him to talk. To explain what the hell was the other night, what the hell had he been getting into, what the hell was going on. Just, what the hell? But that was against your orders. You weren’t supposed to talk to him, especially if nothing suspicious had been done. Staying at a motel wasn’t exactly grounds to accuse him of anything.

Still, it frustrated you, sitting there like that. Whenever you were in the field, if surveillance was part of the investigation, you hated it. You hated sitting still when you knew you needed to do something. It drove you insane.

You checked your phone. No new messages from Rossi or Strauss. Or anyone.

You sighed, hitting your head against the headrest. This was ridiculous. You closed your eyes. Maybe a nap would solve it, or at least you wouldn’t have to be conscious while he probably took a nap in his motel room.

You got barely five minutes of sleep before you got the shit scared out of you.

Hotch, in one swift move, reached into the car, unlocked the passenger door, and got inside, his eyes full of an anger you had never seen.

“Drive.”

Your chest rising and falling rapidly, you shook your head. “What the fuck are you doing?”

He pulled his gun off his hip and pointed it right at your chest. “I said, drive,” he repeated.

He’s fucking insane, you thought. You cranked the engine and threw the car into drive, speeding off as he asked, your entire body shaking.

“Where are we going?” you asked, jaw clenched as you white-knuckled the steering wheel.

“Nowhere,” he snapped. “Take the next left.”

The car ride continued like that for fifteen minutes. Him barking orders at you. You testing your luck with snarky remarks. The gun remained pointed at you, making you sweat. But you knew he wouldn’t dare.

At least, you hoped he wouldn’t.

Finally, after far too long of taking random turns, he told you to take the last left. Into a field. A literal, abandoned field. You glanced at your phone. SOS. Great. No fucking service, either.

Panic surged through you, certain he was going to kill you right here. You didn’t know why that thought came to mind. You fought your instincts, your gut feelings, yet in the face of panic, they came through. He was a murderer. You knew it. You felt it.

“Get out,” he hissed, unlocking the doors.

You did as you were told. He exited the car, too, his gun still trained on you. So, with most of the car protecting you, you pulled your gun on him, across the hood of the car.

“Put it down,” he said evenly, holding his weapon with two hands now.

“No!” you yelled. “I’m not going to stand here and let you have a gun on me, Aaron. Put your fucking gun down so we can talk.”

“Now you want to talk?” he laughed, the sound eerie and hysterical. “Why are you following me?”

“I’m following orders,” you countered, adjusting your grip on your pistol. You should’ve put your bulletproof vest on before leaving the house. You looked at it, but you didn’t put it on. There was one in the back of your car, but it did you no good back there.

“Why?” he replied, taunting you. “You never followed mine.”

“Fuck off,” you snapped. That was a slap in the face, and he knew it. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

“Getting fresh air,” he replied. You knew it was a lie. “So why are you tailing me?”

“Following orders, like I already told you,” you fired back. God, you hoped Garcia had your location, or somebody. You didn’t expect Strauss to send you out here without a tracker on your car, but she never mentioned it. Maybe it was implied? God, if he killed you, would anyone find you?

“Whose orders?” he said.

“Who do you think?” you spat. This felt ridiculous, yelling at each other over the barrel of your guns. “Can we put the weapons down and talk like normal adults?”

His grip faltered for a moment. “Whose orders?” he asked again, slightly calmer, but only slightly.

“Strauss,” you answered, lowering your gun, hoping your concession would lead him to do the same. And it did.

He lowered his gun, but didn’t holster it, so you left yours out, too, pointed at the ground. You had to play his game, no matter how much you hated it.

“Strauss sent me to follow you,” you continued, “because she’s worried about you.”

He laughed. He actually laughed.

“I’m serious,” you seethed, rounding the front of the car. It was a mistake, you knew, getting closer to him, but it was involuntary. “Aaron. Listen to me. JJ is missing files from her office. What the fuck did you do with them?”

“I’m not responsible for JJ’s files,” he replied, his angry eyes landing on you, clearly fighting something back. “She probably lost them.”

“JJ doesn’t just lose files,” you snapped. When did he become such a dick? “I saw you take files with you when you left. I know you have them. Where are they?”

“Nowhere,” he replied through gritted teeth. “Stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“For fuck’s sake, Aaron,” you screamed, your throat raw. “I know you’re killing them!” It was the first time you admitted it out loud, to yourself, to anyone else.

“Oh, do you?” he said, his voice eerily calm. He took a step closer to you and you took a step back. He smirked. “What do you know exactly?”

“Rossi told me,” you said, trying to keep your voice from wavering. “Issac Holman is dead. Now Nicholas Edwards.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow. “Anyone else?”

Your stomach dropped. “There’s more?”

“I don’t know, is there?”

Oh, he was taunting you. He walked toward you, forcing you to take steps backward, but you only got so far until your back was pressed against the car. You recognized this a moment too late, unable to dart away before Hotch closed in on you, placing his hands on the hood of the car, on either side of you, caging you in.

You swallowed thickly, determined to not back down. “How many others?”

He clicked his tongue. “That’s for you to figure out. I wouldn’t know.”

You squirmed, and he liked it. “Tell me how many,” you demanded.

He leaned close, close enough that your eyelids fluttered. He smirked. “No.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, then your ear. “No, no,” he said again, his breath hot against your ear. “I’m not telling you.”

His free hand caressed your arm, smoothing down your skin until he reached your wrist. He dipped his head, kissing your neck, and your fingers loosened on your gun. He tucked it into his holster as you registered too late what had happened.

You squirmed again, hands flailing, attempting to reach your gun, but he was too strong. One move and he had his body pressed firm against yours, his free hand gripping your wrists and trapping them between your bodies.

“Hotch,” you gasped, the sound too close to a whimper when he sucked hard on your neck.

“You’re going to do as I say,” he whispered. “Or I’ll shoot you.”

You knew at that moment that he meant it. So you did as you were told, in order to save your life.

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