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dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years ago

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The Daughter of Aphrodite | Leo Valdez

Hello Lovelies! So I was inspired by my classics class and figured hey, what better than to write about Leo Valdez to make the cravings go away? This is my first Leo fic and I decided to take up a third person perspective because it felt right. It’s really fluffy and I hope you all enjoy! Until next time, all my love!

Description: Leo and y/n have been pining after each other for too long. Her friends help her come up with a plan to get close to him, now she has to cross her fingers that her mother, Aphrodite, doesn’t step in.

Pairing: Leo Valdez x Female!Reader

Warnings: Absolutely none

Word Count: 2.7k

Tags: FLUFF

(Pics not mine but mood board is :) )

Her hands were covered in dirt, a trait most uncommon to a daughter of Aphrodite. Somehow, though, she wore it like a pair of silk evening gloves. Her hair was messy, thrown in a bun atop her head, but every strand that fell around her face seemed as though placed by the gods themselves. Even in chaos she was perfect.

Leo leaned precariously against a two by four, watching the daughters of Aphrodite and Demeter replant the gardens around camp. Well, more like the daughters of Demeter and one daughter of Aphrodite. The rest of the Aphrodite sisters were lounging in the sun, avoiding the mud. He couldn’t help but smile when one of her friends gingerly rubbed some dirt off her face. He could almost hear the girl scold her. Always getting your hands dirty, hun.

“Just talk to her already man.”

“I have, multiple times. At least a couple times a day.”

Jason ran a frustrated hand through his hair, watching as his friend watched the girl he loved from a distance. Everyone at the camp knew how Leo felt, everyone except her. She was every bit as pure as she was kind. Not to mention loving, gentle, and patient. She was everything he knew he needed and, even more so, everything he desperately wanted.

“You know what I mean.”

Leo turned to his best friend, a lazy smile plastered on his face, “I know, man. I will.”

Jason only grumbled before heading off. Leo always said that. Clearly he hadn’t followed through yet. Not that it mattered. No one was exactly raring to go head to head with the boy who could light his entire body on fire. His girl would remain his girl until he could work up the courage to, well, make her his girl. Still, Jason just wanted his friend to be happy.

Leo watched her for another moment before heading off to do what he was supposed to be doing; fixing the door for the sons of Ares.

Across the green, musical giggles filled the spaces between the chatter. Her laughs were contagious, the Demeter girls rolling around in the plots they were supposed to be filling with hydrangeas, clutching their stomachs with red faces. The other girls, her sisters, also laughed, just a little more contained. They sipped on pink lemonade, twirling the straws in dainty fingers.

“So you’re telling me,” Arabella, a Demeter daughter with wayward curls, barely contained a chuckle, “you have never been kissed.”

Dawn, one of y/n’s sisters, chimed in with a few of her own runaway giggles, “don’t forget the best part: she’s never been kissed because every time a boy gets close, mother steps in!”

They collapsed again in another fit, filling the camp with some much needed life. She smiled sweetly, cheeks blushed like an angel, giggling right along with them. It was funny after all. She liked making her friends smile, it made her feel warm inside.

“Is it really true? Every time a boy has gone to kiss you Aphrodite has stepped between it?’

Her voice was pure honey, slow and sugary, “oh yes. One time, right as a boy leaned in, a bolt of lightning struck the ground, right at his feet. I’m not sure what she told Zeus to get him to do it. Mother has her ways, I'm sure.”

“Well,” the giggles died down but the atmosphere remained light, “if you could kiss any boy here, without Aphrodite striking him down that is, who would it be?”

Her eyes widened a touch at the question. One boy immediately swam to her mind but she brushed it away quickly, her smile still neatly in place. She knew for a fact that he wasn’t interested in her like that so there was no reason to offer his name to the group. Regardless, though, her heart still fluttered for a certain son of Hephaestus.

She coiled a loose strand of hair around her finger, her charm bracelet jingling gently on her wrist, “hmm, I’m not sure.”

Her sisters eyed each other cheekily before peering around the camp. When their gaze landed on precisely who they had been looking for, they giggled a collective hum.

“How about him, hun? Would you kiss him if you could?” Daisy nodded her glass across the field.

Her eyes wandered with her sister��s gesture, past a couple of younger campers playing a game, to a boy fixing what looked like the door to the Ares cabin. Silly boys, always rough housing. That cabin had to have the window fixed just last week. Her eyes lingered on him a little longer than they should have considering she was trying to convince her sisters that she didn’t like him. Her soft lip pulled between her teeth as he ran a hand through his hair.

Giggles erupted around her again, pulling her from her daze with heated cheeks, “Leo? He would never kiss me.”

The giggles only increased. Her eyes shifted quickly to the Ares cabin, hoping to Zeus that her group wasn’t causing too much of a scene. She wasn’t so lucky. Her eyes met Leo’s brown ones from across the lawn, her nose instantly burning. She tried to look away, she wanted to. Well, she thought she wanted to, at least, but his eyes held hers in a way that made it impossible to look anywhere else.

She bit her lip again and he smirked, his lips pulling tight in a way that should be a crime. His skin caught the light like a gem, shining from his labour in the hot sun. When he noticed her eyes, drawing over his face and arms, his grin widened and her heart stuttered dramatically. When he winked at her and went back to work, her heart stopped.

“Oh, hun,” Arabella’s hand swept under her chin, pulling y/n’s focus from the fire boy, “you’re clueless, aren’t you? Have your sisters taught you nothing? That boy is smitten.”

Sarah Beth, her eldest sister, huffed indulgently, a teasing smile on her rosy lips, “oh we tried, Ara, trust us we did. Sis is helpless. Blame it on mother.”

Y/n whined, the sound like one of Apollo’s harps, “what do I do? I’m cursed!”

Even in her torment she giggled, rubbing her cheek affectionately in Arabella’s palm. Arabella smiled lovingly, an idea sparking as she pulled y/n’s face back up. It was a foolproof one, too. Arabella looked at her wide eyes, watching them dart across the green to the boy she was clearly head over heels for. Yes, it needed more than anything to be foolproof.

Arabella poured a fresh glass of lemonade, taking extra care to mix enough ice with the pink liquid. She plopped a straw in it, stirring it once, twice, three times before shoving it in y/n’s perfectly polished nails.

Her eyebrows scrunched, a cute confusion laid over her features, “I have lemonade, Bella.”

Arabella had to stop herself from rolling her eyes, “it’s not for you,” her eyes tilted to Leo, “he looks thirsty, hun. I think he wants a drink.”

“I don’t think lemonade is what he’s after,” Sara Beth didn’t look up from her own drink but her cat like grin said it all.

Her sisters had to stifle another wave of giggles as she gingerly passed the lemonade back and forth between her hands, contemplating whether or not to go to him. When she looked over at him for the hundredth time in an hour, she made up her mind. It was now or never.

She stood, much too gracefully for a girl with a heart racing a mile a minute, and took a deep breath, “please, mother, do be nice. He’s a lovely boy. I really like him.”

“Go get him, tiger,” Arabella nudged her gently towards the mechanic, a proud smile on every girl in and around the flowerbeds.

The walk across the green felt like it was never ending and much too short all at the same time. Every step that she took towards his crouched figure she debated downing the liquid herself and then running away. But no, she couldn’t. He was like a magnet, drawing her towards him with ridiculous ease. He didn’t even know he was doing it, that was the worst part. The tips of her ears felt hot, her feet stopping a few feet away from him. Oh, gods, what did she get herself into this time?

Leo’s hands stalled, a flowery scent curling around his face and clinging to his skin. He closed his eyes, breathing in as much of it as he could. That had to be what heaven smelled like, he just knew it. Like chrysanthemums and honeydew. Yes, he knew for certain. He drew another breath. Gods, he couldn’t get enough.

“Hey, Leo,” her voice went high, her words like unintentional poetry, “whatcha working on there?”

Why did she say that? She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. So silly, what did it look like he was doing? When she opened them Leo was looking at her, a loose grin on his lips, a glint in his chocolate eyes. Her chest squeezed fervently.

“I’ll give you one guess,” his eyes glanced to the door before landing back on her, peering at her from his seat on the ground.

She scrunched her nose at him, trying not to giggle as he stood to face her, “oh ha ha, very funny.”

Leo laughed easily, a sound less honeyed than her own but still so sweet, “that’s my job. Well, when I’m not picking up after Ares’ sons. Can you believe they split the door in half?”

She glanced up at him, her doe eyes dancing over his tanned skin and black curls, unable to fight the butterflies that bounded inside her chest. He really was something. She held the glass a touch tighter when she breathed in his motor oil and nutmeg scent. She was certain this was what Olympus smelled like, not that she’d ever been.

“Honestly yes, I can,” she met his eyes again, sucking in a small breath when they drew down her body to the drink she had yet to hand over.

His eyes flitted back to hers and darkened a touch, a knowing smirk plastered on his lips, “say, is that for me, cariño?”

Her cheeks flamed and she knew if she lifted a hand to them they would be hot to the touch. How fitting.

“Erm,” she stalled, pulling her lip between her teeth once more, her eyes shifted to the grass at her toes, “I thought you might like some lemonade? If not that’s ok! It was silly of me, I’m sorry, I can just-”

Leo’s hand closed around hers, pulling the glass, and by default her, closer to his heady nutmeg chest, “I’d love some, thank you.”

His voice had lost its playful edge, only the soft warmth remained. He lifted the glass to his lips, drawing her hands with his as he took the first sip. She could practically hear her sisters swoon from across the grass. Wow, she’s really doing it isn’t she? Way to go, sis! Her whole body heated this time, her neck to her toes consumed by lapping flames. It was intoxicating.

Leo took the glass from her hands and set it on the step beside him, the taste of strawberries pungent on his lips. When he glanced back at her, he ran his tongue across his lip. The light hit her in a way that was entirely ethereal, clinging to her skin in a way that defied the laws of physics. It was maddening, like standing next to one of the muses themselves. God’s when did this ever happen to someone like him?

“It’s my sister’s recipe,” she fiddled with her fingers, lost with what to do without the glass to hold onto, “I hope you like it.”

He closed the small gap between them even more, pulling her fingers into his. Her heart skyrocketed, his hand was warm and calloused. His fingers fit too perfectly into the spaces between her own. Was it normal to be this breathless?

“It was sweet,” he squeezed his hand in hers, his voice carefree but low.

He slipped his other arm around her waist, thanking the gods for wherever his courage was miraculously stemming from. She practically buzzed in his arms, her melon and flower perfume melting around him. He bit the inside of his cheek. Was it perfume, or was it just her supple skin?

“I like sweet things,” he mused, revelling in the way her eyes widened, catching his innuendo without missing a beat.

Her mind was stuck on his hand. It was on her back, low on her spine, his fingers lightly tickling up and down. She avoided arching into his fingers. It was heavenly. He was good with his hands and it showed.

Her eyes brushed over him once more, stopping on his lips for a millisecond too long, “she makes muffins too.”

He tightened his arm around her, drawing the daughter of Aphrodite against his chest. Gods, she was soft.

“I don’t want muffins, cariño.”

Now or never, Leo. He leaned his head down, his nose brushing hers sweetly.

Please, mother, let me have this. She tilted her head up, her hands sliding up his chest.

Leo’s lips found hers at the same time her hands circled his neck. His lips were slow, testing to see if she would kiss him back, as if it was even an option for her not to with the way the flames, his flames, were licking at her skin. How did he do it? She felt like the sun; his lips tasted like fire and recklessness. And strawberries, a bushel of them.

She took his sweet kiss, savoured it, and then slammed her lips back against his, slipping her hands into his raven locks and tugging-- hard. He moaned softly against her sweet lips, giving in to every demand her mouth challenged. How could her lips be sweeter than the lemonade? He clutched her harder against him.

She pulled back only when her lungs demanded it, leaning her forehead against his heaving chest. She took the staggering lack of lightning as a good sign as a dizzying warmth filled her chest. He pressed his face against her hair, nuzzling against her sweetness lovingly. He had been waiting forever for that and he wasn’t about to let her go just yet.

Her fingers slid back down his chest, curling around his shirt, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you, Leo.”

What? He pulled his head away from her hair, staring into her doe eyes confused. And then he laughed, a full laugh that had his whole chest shaking and hers as well, before drawing his lips back to hers. He tugged her bottom lip between his lip, his hands squeezing her hips fiercely. She’s mad, beautiful but out of her mind. Gods.

“Cariño,” his lips brushed over hers, his words mingling with her breaths, “I kissed you. And trust me, I wanted to. Believe it or not, I don’t owe anything to the Ares’ brothers. You, on the other hand, have all my time at your disposal.”

He didn’t wait for her to answer before closing his lips over hers. There was a lot of lost time he was more than ready to make up for.

Meanwhile, across the green stood Jason, Sarah Beth, and Arabella, their heads close together but their eyes glued to the Ares cabin.

“I’m taking credit for this,” Jason and Arabellas’ voices mingled, proud and in sync.

Their eyes flashed to each other, “no, I did this!”

Sara Beth just giggled lusciously, twirling the straw of her own lemonade in lazy circles.

#Leo Valdez #Leo #Valdez #leo valdez x reader #the heroes of olympus #thoo #leo valdez imagine #Jason #grace #Jason grace #aphrodite #hephaestus #imagine #reader insert

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faelicy · 4 years ago

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Hi! I'm new to the fandom and have yet to read the novel but I jumped into reading fics straightaway and now I'm a little confused. Could you please tell me about LBH and his harem? Does he have it for the sake of appearances and is he a virgin like all the other protgonists from MXTX's novels or does he sleep with his concubines? Sorry that I have to ask you but reading fics didn't really clear things up to me :D because SQQ seems to think he does but that could be miscommunication. TYSM!!!

Hello, and hmm, this is why I never recommend consuming fanworks before the canon, because the details on what is actually canon get muddled very quickly. Not only that, when you do read the novel your comprehension will be strongly influenced by the characterizations within those fics.

The truth is, as a fandom ages, the characterizations will inevitably drift away from canon, because most people spend more time consuming fanfiction than they do the original material. Which makes sense, because the average person only reads the novel once, while they may read anywhere from tens to thousands of fanfics. Writers begin unconsciously basing their characterizations on their own favorite fics, amplifying the effect.

This isn’t so much a criticism as it is an inevitable truth: some will even end up ignoring the canon characterizations entirely. But the goal of fandom has always been self-fulfillment and self-indulgence, so I don’t see it as wrong, per se? As long as people are aware of the separation, so people who want to discuss the canon can.

Now onto the actual question itself: SV is about a transmigrator changing the path LBH takes. In PIDW, og!LBH is indeed a male escapist fantasy, a stallion protagonist with a massive harem who collects women like trophies and sleeps around. His harem itself is a mess, with lots of scheming and plotting and infighting, as all his wives step on each other.

With his course changed by SQQ’s care and affection, he becomes a “pure maiden” (in SQQ’s own words) instead. Though because of various circumstances, SQQ is unable to believe this until much, much later.

One thing (of several) that I think doesn’t come across well in SV fanworks, is that even in SV LBH is a huge misanthrope. Yes, even the fourteen-year-old him, though he disguised it much better. There’s a bit of a push to make him more amiable than he actually is, maybe because his detractors tend to complain about how cruel and standoffish he is to everyone not SQQ.

#svsss #scum villain

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exoticarmyofcrowns · 5 years ago

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first love | myg

pairing: none. this is a solo yoongi fic

summary: nothing is for certain. except yoongi’s love for his piano. or: first love in too many words

genre: song fic, angst

warnings: some mentions of depression and yucky thoughts, potentially triggering mention of a panic attack (i tried to be purposefully vague but just in case), potentially graphic depiction of a car accident

word count: ~5.5k

a/n: hello! so uh here i am making my debut! i am still reeling from the emotional rollercoaster that was bangbangcon and it kinda rallied me into wanting to publish this?? i adore first love, i think it is such a poignant, poetic representation of yoongi’s love and devotion to music and i really wanted to explore that relationship a little in story form. i’ve had this written for a while and i’ve always wanted to write stuff on here but never had the courage. but i figure we all collectively need some respite from our emotions so here is a small gift, if anyone would like to take a look. if you do, pls enjoy and let me know your thoughts! <3

(also, please keep in mind that artistic liberties were taken despite being based off of yoongi’s life.)

Yoongi is five years old.

He wanders out of his room, looking for his mom. He just has to show her this awesome drawing that he made. He knows that she’ll love it, that she will be proud of him. Smiling gleefully, he toddles off into the rest of the house to find her.

“Eomma!” he yells, hoping she’ll hear him and give him a clue as to where she is. Maybe she’s playing hide and seek! Yoongi giggles at the thought, determined now more than ever to find her.

He checks his parents room, frowning when he realizes it’s empty. It’s not bedtime, he reasons, she wouldn’t be in here. Closing the door, Yoongi sets off into the living room to check there. But there’s no sign of his mother there either. She’s not in the kitchen and the bathroom door is open so she’s not in there either. Frustrated, Yoongi turns to go back to his room.

On his way back, he spots a door at the end of the hall. His eyes narrow as he purses his lips. He hadn’t checked there yet. Maybe she really is hiding from him. Deciding it was worth a try, he stomps over to the door and reaches up to grab the handle.

It takes a few tries but Yoongi manages to gather enough strength to push open the door. He whips his head around, checking every possible corner for signs of his mom. He’s about to let out a frustrated whine when his eyes catch on something on the far wall to his right.

A piano.

Yoongi had seen pictures of pianos before in the stories his mom would read to him before bed but he had never seen one up close. It’s massive, towering over his small frame in a way that should have been intimidating but only filled him with quiet wonder.

Scrambling up on the tall bench--which should have tipped over with the force of his jump but it miraculously stayed put--Yoongi takes in the white and black keys, marveling at the way they shine in the light coming from the window. He sticks out a small, chubby finger and presses one of the keys. The note rings out around him and he giggles in delight.

Pretty, he thinks. He begins pressing keys in earnest, playing around with different note combinations and laughing in pure joy when he finds a pair that he likes. He’s so enraptured by the piano that he hardly notices when the door creaks open.

“There you are, little one.” His mother’s voice has a playful lilt in it as she watches her son play the piano with unadulterated glee.

“Eomma!” Yoongi cries, excited to show her his discovery. “Look! A piano!”

“I see!” she laughs. “You’re quite the musician.”

“Musician,” he repeats, liking the way it feels on his tongue. “I feel so nice, mom.”

Yoongi’s mother cards her fingers through his hair fondly, chuckling at her precocious son. “Hmm, maybe the piano likes you. You two will grow up to be the best of friends.” She scoops the young child in her arms, heart warming at the squeals of laughter the action elicits.

“Come on now, my little Beethoven,” his mother says, setting Yoongi back down on the ground and taking his small hand in hers. “It’s time for lunch.”

As he follows his mother out of the room, Yoongi takes one last look at the piano. He smiles, already excited to play again.

Yoongi is fourteen years old.

The last bell rings, signaling the end of the school day but Yoongi hardly hears it, pen scribbling furiously across his paper. Inspiration had struck in the middle of math class and he has to get the lyrics down before he leaves to go home.

Finishing, he rereads through his work with a small smile. He’s quite proud of these lyrics, thinks they might be the best yet. He already has an idea for a backing beat swirling in his head, one that would really compliment the message of his rap and the new flow he’s been experimenting with. He feels giddy with excitement at the idea of playing around with some different sounds. Standing, Yoongi packs up his things, throwing his journal into his bag before heading out with the rest of his classmates.

As he walks, Yoongi is, not for the first time, conscious of how alone he is. Girls walk in line with their arms interlocked while the guys are loud and boisterous, hanging off each other with wide grins on their faces. He has friends of course, if you could call the neighborhood kids he plays basketball with on occasion “friends,” but none that he would consider particularly close to him. The thought leaves him feeling strange so he shuts it out, shaking his head roughly as if to physically dispel it.

He makes his way to the school entrance, hanging a quick left past the convenience store to the bus stop. He catches a glimpse of a group of students talking and laughing, indulging in a hot bowl of ramen before heading home. Yoongi’s stomach rumbles at the sight and he pauses, calculating. His shoulders slump when he realizes he doesn’t quite have enough, the change burning a hole in his pocket just enough to cover his bus fare home and little else. He doesn’t get paid again until Friday. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he ignores the cramping in his stomach and continues on to catch his bus.

The bus ride home is, thankfully, uneventful. He trudges his way from the bus stop to his house. Like he does every day. As he climbs the steps, Yoongi thinks a little wryly to himself that the house that had seemed so huge to him as a child feels scarcely bigger than a prison cell. Maybe it’s the hunger talking.

Opening the front door, Yoongi sighs out a half-hearted I’m home! despite knowing the house is empty. He bends over to shuck off his shoes and place them in the cubby. A soft thud sounds behind him but he doesn’t notice.

Yoongi heads to the kitchen to down a glass of water in the hopes of dispelling the growing hunger pangs before shuffling to his room, tossing his backpack carelessly at the foot of his bed and flopping face-first onto the thin mattress. He knows he should probably get up and finish his homework but he still feels the residual exhaustion from his weekend shifts at the convenience store. Maybe he should ask Mr. Kim to lighten up on his hours. Yoongi would have to sell more songs to make up the income difference but he thinks it might be worth it to get some extra sleep.

He nods off for what he swears can’t be more than a few minutes but the sound of the front door shutting and the way his room has dimmed significantly suggest otherwise. Swearing, Yoongi turns on his bedside lamp and rubs a tired hand down his face. He stands, stretching his tight muscles, and moves to grab his bag from the floor. The house is eerily silent considering his parents have just come home but Yoongi brushes the thought away in favor of pulling out his textbook to get started on his homework.

Just as he’s about to sit down, a figure stops in front of his bedroom doorway. Yoongi looks up, a small smile and a greeting on his lips. They both wither at the sight before him.

There stands his father, holding his lyrics journal. Yoongi feels his mouth go dry.

They stare at each other for an immeasurable amount of time. Yoongi tries to think of something, anything, to say but his mind has blanked and his skin prickles in a cold sweat. His father recovers before he does.

“Min Yoongi,” he begin, voice deceptively calm. “What is this?”

“A-Appa,” Yoongi stutters. “I can explain--”

“I thought we talked about this, Yoongi.” He steps into Yoongi’s room and the younger boy fights the urge to cower where he stands. “You should be focusing on your studies. Not on these frivolous songs.”

Yoongi winces and tries to push down the flash of irritation. “Yes, appa. B-But I haven’t been letting it affect my grades. I get all my school work done and I try to help you and mom out by picking up extra shifts at Mr. Kim’s store--”

“And selling this drivel on street corners?” Yoongi freezes. His parents weren’t supposed to know about that. “Oh yes, I know all about your little escapades on the streets. Do you know how risky that is? What kind of danger you could be putting yourself in?”

“I…” Yoongi’s voice sounds incredibly small and he hates it. “It’s just to get my name out there. Get some experience.”

“You don’t need experience. This…nonsense--”

“It’s rap, appa. Hip hop.”

His father fixes him with a look but doesn’t comment. “This isn’t a real career, Yoongi.”

“But I… I love it,” he whispers, trembling with repressed anguish.

“Love is not enough to make a living.” His father closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily. “Is there more?”

Yoongi hesitates before nodding slowly.

“Give it to me.” He holds his hand out, frown set deeply on his forehead. “This ends now.”

Balking, Yoongi takes a step back, heart crawling into his throat and suffocating him. “A-Appa, no. You can’t--”

“I can and I will. Hand them over, Yoongi.”

The boy feels something akin to rage rush through his veins. He chances a glance at the doorway and sees his mother standing there uneasily.

“Eomma,” he cries thickly.

His mother looks equally as pained but her gaze flickers to her husband. “Your father is right, Yoongi-yah. This… Rap is a hobby, not a job. This could get you involved in the wrong circles. You need to focus on your school work.” She doesn’t meet his gaze.

Anger bubbles in his chest and stings at his eyes, but he chokes down the frustrated scream threatening to tear itself from his throat and moves mechanically to gather his other notebooks full of lyrics. Stiffly, he stands before his father and offers the notebooks.

His father’s expression softens minutely. “We’re doing this for your own good, Yoongi. Please do not doubt this.” With that, he leaves. A year’s worth of lyrics. Gone. His mother lingers at the door but ultimately leaves without another word.

Suddenly, his room feels too small, the faded walls of his old home closing in on him rapidly. Frustration and the anger swirl so violently in his stomach Yoongi thinks he’ll be sick. He can’t be here anymore but he also can’t leave.

So he runs to the only place he can think of.

The piano room has remained largely untouched since his younger days. The air is stale and faintly musty but Yoongi doesn’t care, can’t bring himself to care as he flings himself onto the old piano bench, arms cradling his head atop the fallboard. Hot, angry tears fall in torrents down his cheeks and his fists clench so tightly he can feel the sharp sting of his nails on his palm. He muffles his cries into his arms, into the piano, unable to keep the sounds to himself any longer.

It takes a while for Yoongi to calm down. Eventually, his tears slow and his breath evens out, though it still hiccups slightly in his chest. He sits up gingerly and stares down at the piano. He hasn’t been here in years and yet… It felt so natural to come here for comfort. Like it was waiting for him.

Shakily, he moves to slide the fallboard back, revealing the shining keys. He straightens his back, falling into position. His fingers hover over the keys, supported lightly by his wrists. The angle is different now that he has grown, no longer dwarfed by the beautiful instrument. Hesitant, Yoongi tries to recall one of the songs his music teacher had taught him and begins to play stiltedly.

It’s awkward; his fingers can’t quite move the way they used to and his new height works against him as he tries to find a comfortable position to play. But the longer he sits, the more comfortable it becomes until he feels like he’s sat here his whole life--playing, listening, living. Yoongi feels a shiver travel down his spine, cleansing and fresh. The anguish and tension from earlier bleeds through his fingertips as he loses himself.

Gradually, Yoongi stops playing, letting the resounding final notes of his song envelop him, but he doesn’t move. He stays, basking in the warmth, a sort of quiet acceptance, that seems to cradle his body as he sits.

Caressing the keys almost reverently, Yoongi makes a promise to himself. Rap and writing lyrics and music--these things make up the complex tapestry that is him and he will never let that go ever again. It’s his life to live, his destiny to choose, and he will not let anyone make that decision for him. Not even his parents.

And as he sits there, the boy with his piano welcoming the dawn, he feels the weight on his heart lift just a bit.

Yoongi is nineteen years old.

The rumble of the small bike he uses to make deliveries is the only thing keeping him awake as he drives to his next customer. He’s been pulling more all-nighters as he and the other guys work toward debut, writing songs and going over choreographies. It’s an endless loop of meetings and practices and Yoongi can feel the strain on his frayed nerves. He knows he’s been moodier with his members, too.

His members, he thinks wryly. It wasn’t exactly what he had imagined when he accepted his position at Big Hit but he figures it’s the only way to get what he wants. Music is more important to him than anything. If it requires him to play nice with others for the time being then he can do that.

Yoongi rolls to a stop at a traffic light and lets out a small sigh, foot coming down onto the pavement to steady himself. The roads are practically empty and it does nothing to quell the exhaustion weighing down his eyelids. It seems like no matter where he is, work will always be a constant in his life. He hadn’t even meant to get another job on top of his producer gig but he’d seen an ad looking for someone to make deliveries a few times a week. The pay was pretty decent and it would be a nice supplement to what he was receiving at Big Hit so he took it.

It was, however, coming back to bite him in the ass now that things are starting to pick up for them. Just a little longer, he figures. Once they debut, he’ll probably have to quit anyway so might as well enjoy the little extra paycheck for now. Yoongi taps his foot impatiently on the ground as he waits for the light to change, sighing in relief when bright green washes over him and signals him to go.

He’s not quite sure how it happens. He remembers picking his foot up off the ground as he releases the clutch, crossing over the line into the intersection. He thinks he recalls the distant sound of a horn blaring, of a bright light flashing, but that’s overshadowed by the sudden force pushing him onto the ground. His head cracks back against the pavement and thankfully his helmet bears the brunt of the impact but Yoongi still feels the sharp pressure against his skull, a dull ringing sounding in his ears.

Yoongi’s eyes had closed when he was thrown back and he pries them open, vision fuzzy and unfocused, only to be met with the daunting image of a car wheel right in his face. Belatedly, he registers the sound of a bone-chilling scream. He tries to turn his head to find the source of the sound but he realizes with haunting clarity that it’s coming from him.

Just as he makes the connection, Yoongi begins to hurt. White-hot pain radiates from his shoulder so potent it chokes him. He hears the sound of an engine revving and the wheel in front of his face starts to move away. It catches on his bike, sending it crashing into his shoulder, and another scream of agony scrapes his throat raw. Tears stream from his eyes, further obscuring his vision, but he can still make out the image of the car speeding away, tires screeching as exhaust spews from the pipe.

Yoongi is torn between the excruciating pain and the disbelief that someone just fucking hit him and drove off without even stepping out of the car. He wants to shout curses at the retreating vehicle but the throbbing in his shoulder has intensified even more, churning his stomach so violently it’s a wonder he doesn’t throw up right there.

Hours pass, it feels like, before a strange sort of numbness begins to filter through his limbs. His body is heavy, and his eyes can no longer hold themselves open. He’s not sure how long he lays there, disoriented and unable to move before someone takes notice of him but he thinks he hears someone frantically calling 911. Soon he hears the sharp siren of an ambulance, lights blinding Yoongi even as he teeters between consciousness and unconsciousness.

The ride to the hospital is a blur. The paramedics had tried talking to him but he was just so tired and everything hurt so bad he could hardly focus long enough to force his lips to form words much less complete sentences. They must hook him to an IV because he feels a sharp prick on the inside of his arm and suddenly his muscles relax. He knows he can’t sleep though so he fights to keep himself awake.

He barely registers arriving at the hospital, the jostling of the stretcher the only indication that he’s moving. A doctor asks one of the paramedics for the report and Yoongi only hears bits of the diagnosis. He knows his shoulder is fucked but the way they’re talking about it unnerves him. He’s anxious now, heart rate spiking as he thinks of the implications this could have on the group. His breathing stutters, sending a shooting pain through his ribs, and he can feel the beginnings of a panic attack tightening in his chest. This catches the attention of the doctor and nurses and they’re suddenly focused on him.

“Yoongi-ssi,” the doctor begins, voice soft and cajoling. He vaguely wonders how he knows his name but then figures the paramedics must have found his license. “You’ve had quite the accident. I know you must be in a lot of pain but is there someone we can call to stay with you and sign some papers?”

Yoongi stares unseeingly at the doctor’s face and really tries to get his voice to cooperate. He knows he can’t call his parents, not yet at least, so he says the first name that comes to mind.

“N-Namjoon. Kim Namjoon.” He rattles off what he hopes is his phone number before the effort becomes too great. He tries to fight it, he really does, but the events of the night begin to take its toll and his eyelids slip closed as he falls into the beckoning darkness.

When Yoongi comes to, he’s greeted with an annoying beeping somewhere off to his left. He squints, eyes blinking furiously to clear his vision from the blinding white of the hospital room. Moving to sit up, he winces and immediately stops trying to move. He feels like he’s been hit by a truck, which is not too far off, he thinks a little dryly.

A movement to his right makes him flick his gaze to the window where a figure he hadn’t noticed before jumps up from their position in a chair. It’s Namjoon.

“Hyung,” he cries, eyes wild as he practically sprints toward the bed. Yoongi would laugh if he weren’t sure he looked just as ridiculous. “What happened?”

Yoongi scoffs only to grimace when the small movement jerks his shoulder. “Oh, you know, just a casual Friday night.” He tries to joke but Namjoon just gives him a deadpan look so he clears his throat and looks away. “I was making deliveries and some asshole ran a light and hit me. Pretty sure they crushed my shoulder.”

Namjoon nods. He had heard as much from the doctor when he had come in. He seemed to be unimpressed with a barely legal kid coming as Yoongi’s “guardian” but Namjoon couldn’t have cared less in that moment.

“Do you know who did it?”

“Nah, the bastard sped off as soon as I went down.” Yoongi watches as Namjoon’s face drops in horror, head tipping back in disbelief.

“Goddammit.” He runs a tired hand through his hair before sliding it down his face.

“What time is it anyway?”

Namjoon glances at his watch. “Almost eight.”

Yoongi releases a breath. “Fuck. There goes morning practice.”

“Hyung.” Namjoon’s voice has deepened into his leader voice and Yoongi fights the urge to wince again. “Be serious.”

At his sides, Yoongi’s fists clench. “Does anyone else know?” He raises his gaze to look at the younger man. Namjoon shakes his head once, not breaking eye contact. “Good. Keep it that way.”

The leader balks at that. “What?!” he splutters. “You can’t be serious--”

“Joon.” Yoongi cuts him off with a look, voice softening into a desperate plea. “Please.”

This stops Namjoon short. Yoongi is so rarely vulnerable with him but they have been working and living together for two years now. They’re coworkers and, dare he think, friends. He doesn’t know the full story but he does know that Yoongi’s life has been anything but easy. He has his own reasons for doing the things he does and Namjoon has to understand and trust that Yoongi knows what he’s doing.

Although it goes against everything his mind is screaming at him, Namjoon nods at the elder. “Okay, hyung. I won’t say anything.”

Yoongi relaxes then, thankful that the younger has decided to trust him.

The next few hours pass relatively quickly. The doctor comes in shortly after their talk and gives Yoongi a run-down of his injuries. His shoulder is practically nonfunctional and he has to keep it wrapped and in a sling for at least six weeks, possibly longer. He doesn’t have a concussion, thank goodness, but the doctor reminds him to come back if he experiences bouts of nausea and recurring headaches. He looks reluctant to say so but he tentatively tells Yoongi that he can leave the hospital but he strongly recommends that he stay at least a few days. Yoongi immediately refuses.

They discuss proper care of Yoongi’s injuries before he’s finally released downstairs to fill out his discharge papers. Namjoon sticks close to his side, listening attentively to the doctor’s explanations and helping Yoongi fill out the papers he can’t quite lift his arm high enough to sign. His ears burn hotly with embarrassment but he’s thankful for Namjoon’s presence nonetheless.

The trip back to the dorm is silent but not uncomfortably so. They hail a taxi from the hospital entrance and Namjoon helps the older into the back seat, opening the door and steadying him as he sits. Yoongi wants to protest that he’s not an invalid but he sort of is. Also, try as he might, he can’t quite stop the swell of affection that overtakes him as the younger fusses over him so he sits back, silent.

Yoongi doesn’t bother to try and hide it from the others. Can’t, really, since they’re all sitting in the living room waiting for them as soon as they step through the doors. Seokjin is the first to reach them, brow furrowed in concern as he takes in Yoongi’s haggard appearance and his sling. He places a hand on his good shoulder, squeezing gently and moving to cup the side of his neck in a tender gesture, before murmuring something about making something for him to eat.

Jeongguk is next, doe eyes puffy and shining with tears, and he looks like he wants to launch himself at Yoongi but Hoseok has a strong grip on his forearm, other arm rubbing soothingly down his side. Yoongi reaches out and ruffles the youngest’s hair, lips quirked in a small smile to let him know that he’s alright. A small whimper escapes the boy but he valiantly keeps his tears at bay, returning a watery smile before retreating further into Hoseok’s hold. Hoseok looks deeply into his eyes, tense posture relaxing as he gives his hand a squeeze. Jimin and Taehyung stay back but look at him just as sadly as the others. Yoongi shakes his head and offers another smile he hopes is reassuring. He doesn’t think it works.

The boys fuss over Yoongi well into the night and he tells himself that he’s too tired to be annoyed at their coddling. Namjoon basically moves into his and Seokjin’s room, insisting that he help take care of his injuries as per the doctor’s instructions. Showering proves to be a challenge and it takes both Namjoon and Seokjin to help him undress and cover his cast so that it doesn’t get wet. Yoongi practically dies from the mortification but he’s grateful for the two of them.

Yoongi resumes their regular schedule of activities, much to the disapproval of the rest. He hides his sling and cast under massive t-shirts and jackets that swallow his slender frame whole. Dance practices are hard but he forges ahead, pushing his shoulder to limits he probably shouldn’t but it gets the job done and keeps the suspicious eyes off of him. He pays for it later, though, in the confines of his room after Namjoon and Seokjin have fallen asleep, when he has to muffle his sobs of agony against his good arm.

He likes to think he’s been managing fairly well all things considered but one practice tips him over the edge. It’s been three months since the accident and his shoulder has healed almost entirely but it still acts up every so often. This morning had been particularly rough and no amount of pain-killers had been able to take the edge off.

The choreographer had just left, leaving Hoseok in charge of the rest of practice. Yoongi sits heavily on the floor, chest heaving, and grabs his water bottle before guzzling the contents. They’ve been going at it for the better part of four hours now and there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight.

“Hoseok-hyung,” Jeongguk pants, flicking his t-shirt against his body in an effort to cool down. “Can we take a break? Please?”

“Soon, Guk. I just want us to do a few more run-throughs before we call it a day.” Hoseok’s eyes don’t leave the mirror as he completes a step and repeats it again.

Jeongguk pouts but doesn’t protest further. Namjoon flickers his gaze over to Yoongi before heading over to Hoseok, clapping a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, Hoseok-ah. Why don’t we take fifteen and recuperate a little. Then we’ll get back into it.” He sends a pointed glance to where Yoongi sits near their things and the elder man bristles slightly at that.

“Namjoon. It’s fine, let’s just keep going.” He tries not to snap but he knows it comes out far more bitter than he means.

“Hyung, I just think--”

“I’m fine.” Yoongi launches himself from the ground and takes his position in front of the mirror. “From the top.”

Namjoon and Hoseok share a look as the others stare in silence but Yoongi ignores them in favor of analyzing his form in the mirror. His shoulder throbs insistently.

“From the top,” Hoseok repeats lifelessly, and everyone falls into position.

They manage a few more rehearsals before Yoongi truly starts to feel the consequences. He’s sore and sweaty and his shoulder seems to have developed its own pulse, pounding painfully in time with the music. One move in particular sends a shooting pain down his arm so sharp he yelps in surprise, doubling over with the effort to breathe. The others are on him in an instant.

“Hyung, are you alright--”

“Yoongi-yah, why don’t you just sit--”

“Hyung, come on, let’s all just--”

“I said I’m fine!” Yoongi roars, irritation peaking. “Would everyone please just stop treating me like I’m made of fucking glass?”

No one answers, no one even dares to breathe. Five heads swivel to Namjoon who seems just about as bewildered about the outburst as everyone else.

Yoongi is breathing heavily now, part from pain and part from the force of his outrage. He knows he’s being irrational but he’s sick and tired of having them hover around him like he could collapse at any moment. He’s fine goddammit!

Another long moment passes and Yoongi can’t face them again, not when he feels so unstable. Frustration--at them, at no one, at himself--forms a heavy lump in his throat and he swallows thickly to dislodge it.

“I’m heading to the studio. Don’t wait up.” He grabs his bag and practically flies out the door, heading to the second floor. He flings his studio door open and quickly closes it behind him, breathing heavily.

His head falls into his hands before they move into his hair and tug harshly. Hot tears prick at his eyes and Yoongi can’t stop the anguished cry from leaving his lips as he crumples in on himself. He’s just so tired and stressed and in so much pain. He knows the others mean well but he hates this, hates being reminded that this only happened because of his stupidity. He was the one with the second job, he was the one who got in that stupid accident, he was the one who forced them to keep it a secret. It’s hard on everyone and Yoongi has no one to blame but himself.

He shouts in frustration, throwing his bag down harshly onto the ground. The action seems to awaken a deeper desire to destroy, to hurt just as he is, and before he can think through it, he’s overturning the small armchair and coffee table with a yell.

Red flashes behind his eyes and the emotions that have been simmering low in his stomach boil over, running hotly through his veins. Yoongi screams at the furniture as if they’re the cause of his suffering and he lands a violent kick to its surface, once, twice. His desk chair receives the same treatment and he turns to grab the baseball bat he keeps by the door. Stalking toward his electric piano, he raises the bat above his head to strike but he hesitates. Another harsh ripple of pain rushes through him and that’s all it takes.

Dropping the bat, Yoongi falls to his knees just as the first tears fall. He cries and cries, clutching his shoulder as if it were the only thing anchoring him. He can’t do this anymore, he can’t. He’s not cut out for performing or music or any of it.

Maybe his parents were right.

He stays there for a while, hiccuping in the silence of his studio. His breathing eventually slows but the heaviness in his heart remains. Looking up, Yoongi takes in the sight of his piano. It’s obviously different from the one he has at home but it’s still familiar, comforting. He rises slowly, taking care to mind his shoulder, and grabs the small bench from underneath the stand. Sitting, his body moves almost automatically into position. Yoongi’s shoulder twinges again but it’s more manageable this time. He takes a deep breath, centering himself, and plays.

He’s not sure what he’s playing, just letting his fingers glide across the keys as they see fit. He almost wishes he were recording himself so he could listen to it back but he doesn’t want to stop playing even for a moment to pull out his phone. So he doesn’t; just keeps playing. And playing. And playing.

It’s hours later when Yoongi finally stops. The last note lingers delicately in the air and he doesn’t breathe for fear of shattering the serenity that had settled around him. Only when it’s silent again does he exhale and he feels different. Still hurting, still heavy, but peaceful.

Sighing, he stands up from the piano and goes to right the furniture he upended during his tantrum. Once everything is back in order, he looks around the room until his gaze lands on the piano. It just stands there, unmoving, unchanging, just as it always has, and an unnamed emotion tightens in his chest. He lingers, letting the feeling seep into him until he’s filled with it. He closes his eyes.

Yoongi knows he can’t guarantee his future. Hell, he can’t even guarantee the next five minutes. But, he thinks, as he picks up his things and leaves the studio, sending one last glance at the instrument, perhaps that’s alright, as long as he has this.

#min yoongi #yoongi #min suga #suga #bts suga #bangtan sonyeondan #yoongi fanfic #suga fanfic #bts fanfic #kpop fanfiction #myg #myg fic #bts #my writing

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morimocha · 4 years ago

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6, 19, 25?

aa hello b!!!

6. What element of writing do you find comes easily?

hmm... either my short dialogue bits or long descriptions of emotions. they both come very easily, but i think the emotional descriptions are more easy to write! ^^

19. Do you prefer canon-compliant, AUs, or something in-between?

i'd say in between? i like to talk about aus with anyone who will listen to my screaming www, but when it comes to writing, i like to stay as close to canon as possible, but i tend to deviate a lot purely to self indulge in my own headcanons wwwwwww

25. Have you ever daydreamed about adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!

ooh you're talking to the nyanbinary ruler of daydreaming! i'm almost always in a daze because i spend so much time in my own world www most of my fics come from daydreams if i'm honest ;;;;;;

to answer the question: yes, very often! right now, i find myself picturing the after events of sins, wondering about the different things that happen after the confrontation. for example, what if childe doesn't stop being so possessive, but gets worse? since minors may follow me, i won't delve into too much detail, but i feel as if zhongli doesn't like being treated like a pet as a result of asking his partner to be less overprotective over him! www;;;;;;

#bark !#genshin impact #writing #childe #zhongli #chili #adding the tags since i talk about them specifically ^^#tartaglia #ask meme #oh how i love indulging in my thoughts wwwww #b tag!

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clumsyclifford · 3 years ago

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hello!! i am back and on desktop this time. the blog is just as pretty. alex + yellow = v v attractive jfc. this is a long one so buckle in.

to begin: i hope you have the most fun on your day road trip and sing your heart out to atl and taylor swift. i love driving long distances and idk just driving in general is fun. have the absolute best time MWAH

my birthday is in november!! november 23 to be specific. i share it with miley cyrus which is something i always found to be very cool when i was growing up and watching hannah montana. it also means i am a sagittarius and funny little fact i realized is that my best friend is a gemini. alex and jack are also a sagittarius and a gemini. from being 13 i know that tyler and josh from twenty one pilots are also a sagittarius and a gemini. something about sagittarius and gemini besties idk.

also yeah!! ao3 year in review!! it's a bit complicated to figure out at first and if you read a lot the finding pages thing can be pretty tedious, but it's def worth it once you figure it out. it gives you a lot of different stats about everything you read and it's pretty cool. now i am going to go look at your fics to remember my favs. you deserve the praise so i am willing to offer it. jeez you write a lot i respect the motivation sm. you write quite a bit of angst and i won't lie i try to stay away from angst so i haven't read your fics that seem super angst-y based on the tags. BUT there are still so many i recall reading and loving nonetheless. on a quick scroll-through: i usually don't read high school AUs but "paint me in trust (i'll be your best friend)" was super adorable and lovely. "thank god i'm yours" is one of my favs iirc. also i love love love "it's not always easy (but i'm here forever)" like yes please romanticize alex gaskarth i love it sm. "i won't be silent (and i won't let go)" and "i fell asleep in a city that doesn't" are both super fluffy and romantic and are favs of mine. in case you haven't picked up on it i adore very fluffy and romantic fics lmao. alright i am continuing to scroll and there are so many more i could list that i love but this section is getting quite long. just know if it's about a kitchen or hotel rooms being for lovers i probably read it and adored it and that pov is so valid.

waterparks!! will not lie i only really started listening to them about 6 months ago having been distantly aware of their existence for several years by being a fan of bands in the same genre. listen as long as you let yourself be vaguely annoyed by awsten is prevents you from being in love with him. follow him on any social media platform for like a day and you'll be sick of him typing in nothing but all caps within hours. simply do not romanticize him and you can keep yourself from falling!! so this is coming from a slightly fake parx fan, but some of my favs by them have been peach (lobotomy), crave, numb, fuzzy, violet!, you'd be paranoid too, and lowkey as hell. that is a very songs-from-their-most-recent-album-heavy rec, but whatever. i did give the disclaimer about being a fake parx fan.

yeah hayley does have 2 solo albums now!! petals for armor and flowers for vases / descansos. pfa is the one i didn't really like upon first listen but has grown on me. i haven't even listened to the second one in its entirety oops but we won't mention it. dead horse is good but simmer (pretty sure that was the other single??) just ain't it for me. the album has some lovely songs but it's just a hit or miss album all the way through. some favs of mine on it include pure love, taken, crystal clear, watch me while i bloom, and why we ever. it's sorta a storyline album about healing if that adds anything to it?? but anyways. i started listening to paramore around the time after laughter dropped and it grew to be one of my fav albums in existence. idle worship is probably one of my fav songs like ever. i def understand being slightly put off by bands with songs that make religious references (me with twenty one pilots' earlier music that makes a lot more religious references considering i'm not religious whatsoever) but i think i am blinded by being in love with hayley williams and just ignore it. idk that she's like super religious?? she's addressed believing in god and stuff a few times but she's def not the "rub it in your face" type and if she's making refs in music more recently then they're subtle enough i'm not noticing them. ik albums like brand new eyes had a lot more because it was shortly after that the band split and the songwriting process was essentially her and ex-bandmate co-songwriter arguing about their religious beliefs (turns out he ended up being super homophobic and transphobic all based on his religion so do with that what u will and thank the clown for leaving). i feel u on the "i meant to start listening to them" because that's essentially how i started listening to them. i told myself i was going to and then finally forced myself to do it. fuck falling for awsten knight what's more risky is falling in love with hayley </3

also yeah!! you've articulated my feelings towards tde. every song is so vastly different that it's hard to like it all. #1 fan is pretty decent though, and that's not just my bias about finding both ross and his gf hot and a cute couple and getting to see them together and ross half naked in a mirror in the video nope not at all. he's my fav himbo!! he has no personality!! no thoughts head empty!! i still love him and his strawberry-growing saga on twitter tho <3 the hazard of being in love with ross lynch since i was 12. girlfriend better be a fucking banger and there's quite a few already released singles in the tracklist so i have hope. i believe my show is in chicago on november 19 which is a thursday. kinda sucks since i intentionally bought the chicago tix nearly two years ago (the show was originally supposed to be april 25 2020. lol.) because the show was on a saturday and i have to drive 3 hours to get there. obviously i can't speak for them as tde but r5 shows always fucking slapped and i can vouch for them (realized i haven't seem them live since 2016?? 5 YEARS?? wtf) so if u genuinely like them. would recommend going to see them.

anyways. i have not listened to luke's solo album yet. i plan on it. this has gotten so long but i tried to respond in all areas and even organized it in different paragraphs this time (thanks being on desktop!!). hope you are well. hope you have a lovely day. hmm what's a little "going on in my life" fact. i got new glasses a few days ago and my eyes essentially said fuck off because adjusting to the new prescription has left me with eyes that hurt and occasionally slightly nauseous. here is to hoping my eyes get their shit together. mwah LOVE YOU TOO - the other bella/cubs anon/idk

okay hi hello. i have put this off because holy hell it's long but let's do it. i am putting a cut because this whole thing is long even without my answer

first: the road trip was super fun thank you!!! i am intrigued by this information regarding sags and geminis, we should do some scientific inquiry. enquiry. i don't know if there's a difference between those words.

aha! well i tried the ao3 year in review thing and i would say it had about 55% accuracy but still i agree it's fun to look back at that kind of stuff. and i feel you on the angst thing i go through phases of writing angst-heavy stuff and then writing very fluffy stuff and it is entirely based on my mental state buuuut i have lots of fluff and i'm glad you found it all and that you liked it yay <333 KITCHENS ARE FOR LOVERS i will die on that fuckin hill. hotel rooms as well but primarily kitchens.

dfgjhgdlfkhgdfmj honestly i dont use twitter enough that i would see his tweets enough that that would bother me also the fact that he tweets in all caps means that i just picture him yelling everything he tweets which i find absolutely hysterical so i don't think that would help. i have added these parx songs to my listen asap playlist and will get to them when i get a chance thank you i am excited also i already know lowkey as hell and it slaps super hard so im very much lookin forward to the rest of these. merci merci

YEAH simmer was the one i didnt vibe with. and honestly i feel zero compulsion to get into hayley williams as a solo artist. i just don't vibe enough to want to do that so i doubt i'll be listening to her anytime soon but maybe if i hear the songs in passing or get super bored one night, idk who can really say. but yeah christianity typically puts me off of music (speaking as a very jewish bitch) although there are notable exceptions in the cases of thomas rhett and the driver era. i'm just not attached to hayley enough to be like ehhh this doesnt matter. does that make sense

FAVORITE HIMBO PLEASE HGSDFGDFGKLFGJ i dont follow him on twitter but i have seen some interviews of ross and rocky and tbh they're great i love the way ross speaks like i like his speech mannerisms and i like his FACE and HAIR and. yeah. i think hes pretty. and i think he and 5sos SHOULD collab i think that would be sexy as hell. can you imagine that. oh my god can you imagine a ross lynch/luke hemmings collab. i'm not even really talking to you anymore bella because i know you haven't listened to luke yet and don't have a stake in it but if anyone else is reading this long ass answer. ross & luke collab. okay im going to move on and not think about that now. but i probably won't see tde unless i get a job this semester because i'm trying to stop spending so much money on big indulgent things like concerts likeee i was in a really good habit of not spending that much and then suddenly i got paid for one summer and i was just goin Crazy and i need to dial it back. plus i wanna see ajr and noah kahan equally bad so like. i have to make some calls about priorities here. it's Much to think about

good luck to your eyes i'm sure your new glasses are hella cute tho!!! LOVE YOUUUUUUU

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