#and talking about how much I want to see this dj again for like… years

[wurm-food]

watching my plans slowly deteriorate before my eyes 🙃 very cool

[servndipityz]

Hii! I wanted to request a Nam-gyu x reader smut story where it's Obviously Readers first time at a club despite only being a year or two younger than him. Maybe with the reader being a virgin too? I can't get this idea out my head 🙏 Rest is up to you, thank you so much<3

a/n ── hope you like it! absolutely loved the idea :)

CLOSER

warnings ── SMUT! MDNI, takes place after the games (don't ask me how they got out lmao i just know that they're alive and happy), porn v plot, p in v, unprotected sex, sex under the influence, virginity loss, corruption kink kinda? oral (f receiving)

word count ── 8k

────────────────────────────────────────────

a month. a month and a half, if nam-gyu was being precise. but who’s counting?

it had been a month and a half since they’d gotten out of those fucking games. a month and a half since he’d started to get to know you better.

and more than a month and a half since nam-gyu had had sex. but who’s counting?

as shitty as his old life was, he couldn’t have been happier to have it back. promoting club pentagon again, getting high every weekend, slipping right back into his little trashy life.

plus, now he had something he didn’t have before. you.

he’d met you there, in the games, and he’d been doomed from then on. it was a strange sort of thing, really. nam-gyu was never the type to feel things. at first, he actually thought he’d caught the flu. then he figured it was just some kind of ptsd after the games—which, to be fair, he definitely had, but that was a whole other thing. but no, the tingling in his fingertips whenever he touched you, the stupid flip his stomach did when you talked... that wasn’t a mental disorder, no matter how much he tried to convince himself it was.

he’d never felt that way about a girl before. almost... caring. maybe it was more than caring, but he’d never admit it. anyway, you and him were in some kind of limbo. you weren’t something, but you weren’t nothing either. you hung out multiple times a week, texted semi-regularly, and had messy make-out sessions more times than he could count—but less than he would’ve liked. never more than making out, though. and yeah, that thought crossed his mind sometimes. he wasn’t an expert on these things, but he’d taken girls to bed for much less.

you always seemed to stop things right before they got too intense, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t bother him. having to beat his meat every time after hanging out with you wasn’t exactly fun. but somehow, you seemed worth it. so he, the most impatient man in the world, had decided to be patient. for once.

anyway, even though he knew you weren’t really used to clubs, he figured he’d invite you to club pentagon. he wanted you to have a fun time, see where he worked, see how his life was before the games. he wanted you to let loose a little.

"thanos will be there, it'll be fun," he’d said, and it hadn’t taken much to convince you.

so there you were, the cold biting at your legs in your short skirt, gripping your purse tight as you eyed the long line of people waiting to get in. then, skipping it—feeling very glamorous all of a sudden.

"i'm, uh, friends with nam-gyu," you said, the words coming out almost like a question as the bouncer looked you up and down. you gave your name, and after a moment, he finally spotted you on the list, letting you in without much fuss.

as you stepped into the club, you were almost left in awe. you'd never really liked clubs—not really. when all your friends started partying, you gave it a shot before deciding you preferred a more chill vibe. getting drunk with friends, sharing a blunt, that sort of thing. but then again, the shitty clubs your friends dragged you to in your teenage years couldn’t compare to club pentagon.

several stories high, you could barely make out the ceiling. lights of different hues illuminated the space, smoke spilling from canisters, the bass-heavy music pulsing from a dj booth stationed at the center of the main floor. to say it was packed was an understatement, and you didn’t wonder why. the place was incredible.

you looked around, suddenly awkward. what now? what were you supposed to do? where were you supposed to go? how—

"nam-gyu!" you called out, spotting him weaving through the crowd toward you. he glanced up at you, nodding in greeting. kept it cool. he always kept it cool.

nam-gyu wasn’t expecting you to look this good. which, in hindsight, was a mistake.

your hands found their place on his shoulders before you even thought about it, familiar but not entirely effortless. still getting used to this. to him. to the way he let you in but only just enough.

"you came." he smirked slightly. his hand found your waist without thinking, the fabric of your shirt soft beneath his fingers. he barely had time to process it before you leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. barely there. almost shy.

you weren’t used to that either. you pulled away just as quickly, catching the way nam-gyu’s dark eyes flickered over you before he schooled his expression into something more detached. not detached enough, though. the way his thumb ghosted over your side told another story. he was playing it cool. always.

"this place is super cool," you said, spinning slightly to take it all in.

the music pulsed, deep and low, the bass rattling the floor beneath you. the air smelled like expensive liquor and cheap cologne, bodies pressing close under flashing lights.

nam-gyu scoffed, pleased despite himself. "yeah?" he chuckled, tilting his head at you, his expression settling into something smug. "c'mon, i’ll show you the vip section."

and of course, you let him.

he led you through the club, already losing track of its winding paths, but nam-gyu moved like he owned the place. and he liked it—you could see he liked it. guiding you like he held any real power, his hand still pressed firmly to your lower waist as he did so. he liked being the one guiding you, showing you his world like it meant something. like he meant something here. and maybe he did. maybe you saw it too.

"look who it is!"

the voice cut through the air just before you reached the top of the short staircase. thanos. loud as ever, his grin splitting his face as he all but threw himself up from the couch. the two girls draped over him barely had time to react before he pulled away, arms open wide as he closed the distance between you.

you barely had time to brace yourself before he engulfed you in a hug, laughter rumbling from his chest. the scent of cologne and alcohol clung to him, heavy and overfamiliar, like he had been here for hours.

"damn, lookin' good!" he said as he pulled away, giving you a quick once-over—no real interest behind it, but enough to make you giggle.

it really was crazy how being stuck in some life-or-death games could make people this close in such a short time.

"okay, chill." nam-gyu rolled his eyes, but there was a faint smile on his lips, his hand never leaving your waist.

thanos ignored him. "have a seat, señorita." he gestured toward the black leather couch, and you, along with nam-gyu, walked over to sit down. thanos dropped back into his seat, slinging his arms around the two girls, who seemed more than happy about it.

you ordered a drink as soon as you saw an opening, your nerves slowly starting to settle. though, judging by the weird looks you got for passing on the white powder on the table and the little bags of funky-colored pills, not everyone was on the same page.

there were other people you didn’t recognize lounging on the couches—probably some of nam-gyu’s friends or co-workers. thanos started rattling off introductions, including the girls, and as the alcohol finally started running through your veins, you felt yourself relaxing, settling into the atmosphere a little more.

you weren't sure how much time had passed, but the warmth of the alcohol was settling into your limbs, making everything feel just a little bit softer. the music vibrated through your chest, the flashing lights casting shifting colors over the VIP lounge, and you were beginning to understand why nam-gyu liked this place so much. it was loud, chaotic, a little grimy—but undeniably alive.

"you good?" nam-gyu leaned in, voice low against your ear. his breath was warm, his hand sliding from your waist to rest on your thigh, fingers pressing absentminded circles into your skin.

"mhm," you hummed, tilting your head toward him. "it’s actually kinda fun."

"yeah?" he smirked, like he knew he'd be right all along. of course he did. "told you."

his hand squeezed your thigh lightly before retreating, but not before dragging his fingers a little too slow against your skin. you rolled your eyes, but you didn't move away.

"hey, hey!" thanos suddenly called out, raising his arms to make sure everyone was listening. "how about we play a game?"

some people groaned, others laughed. a game?

"what game?" someone asked. thanos smirked, clearly pleased that he had everyone's attention.

"never have i ever," he said, his grin widening as more groans followed.

"aren't we a little too old for that?" you asked, smirking like the idea amused you.

"i'm not." he shrugged. "are you girls?" he leaned back, and both girls shook their heads vigorously.

you turned to nam-gyu, who seemed more interested in watching you than the conversation. your cheeks warmed when you caught him staring.

"wanna play?" you asked. he just shrugged. he wasn’t really into these kinds of games—he wasn’t into any games, really—but he didn’t care enough to argue. whatever passed the time.

eventually, everyone gathered around the table, all eyes on thanos as he ordered a round of the strongest drink he could think of for everyone.

the first few rounds were harmless enough. “never have i ever gotten a secret tattoo.” “never have i ever been arrested.” stupid things. you sipped your drink when necessary, laughing at some of the stories that followed, the warmth of the alcohol sinking deeper into your skin. nam-gyu barely participated, only taking a sip when he absolutely had to, but his hand had found its way back to your thigh, his fingers drumming absentmindedly against your skin.

then the questions started shifting.

"never have i ever hooked up in a club," one of thanos’ girls said, grinning like she already knew the answer for most people here. a bunch of hands reached for their drinks, nam-gyu included. you hesitated just a second too long before passing. his eyes flicked toward you, but he didn’t say anything.

the next one wasn’t any better.

"never have i ever had a one-night stand," some guy threw out. almost everyone drank. except you. you felt it before you even looked—nam-gyu was watching. his fingers stilled against your thigh for half a second before they resumed their lazy tapping, like he was processing something.

it wasn’t weird, not really. plenty of people hadn’t had one-night stands before. but it was the way you hesitated every time, the way your fingers toyed with the hem of your skirt, the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed.

"never have i ever had sex in a public place," thanos threw in, laughing when half the group groaned.

nam-gyu took a sip. you didn’t.

you looked up at nam-gyu, meeting his gaze for just a second too long. you knew what he was thinking. knew he was piecing it together. maybe he’d already suspected—maybe he already knew—but this was confirmation, wasn’t it?

"wait," thanos interrupted, a slight crack in his voice from how drunk he was. "you're cheating!" he pointed at you.

"what? i'm not." you frowned, confused as everyone turned to look.

"c’mon, your glass is almost full. you haven't been drinking."

he wasn’t wrong. sure, you’d taken your fair share of gulps, but considering most people were on their second drink—some even on their third—it was true.

a flicker of anxiety crept in, the alcohol in your system making you let out a stupid giggle. "i'm not cheating," you shrugged shyly.

"she hasn’t been drinking on the sex ones. i've seen it."

your smile vanished completely. one of the girls next to thanos had spoken, but it was nam-gyu you worried about. you’d caught him noticing earlier, but you kind of hoped he wouldn’t actually put the pieces together.

hoped he wouldn’t realize you were a virgin.

but now, with everyone watching, you were running out of luck.

"yeah, because... because i haven't done some of those things."

it was normal, you told yourself. being a virgin. the right time had never come, and you weren’t about to give it up for some scumbag at a club. you knew you shouldn’t be ashamed. but this? definitely not something you wanted everyone to know.

"what?" some guy blurted out, brows furrowed. "those were easy. you're telling me you never had a one-night stand?"

you pressed your lips together awkwardly. what did he expect you to say?

meanwhile, nam-gyu hadn't stopped watching you, his hand—resting on your leg—now completely still.

it was driving you nuts.

but as you looked over at thanos, you knew it was definitely over for you. a slow smile crept onto his previously confused expression as realization dawned. "holy shit, you're a virgin!"

your stomach twisted. a hot wave of embarrassment rushed up your neck, burning under the weight of every pair of eyes on you.

"what? no," you scoffed, trying for casual, but it came out a little too forced, a little too breathless.

thanos’ grin stretched wider. he could smell bullshit from a mile away. "oh, come on," he laughed, leaning forward like he was about to drag this out, like he was about to make it a thing.

panic prickled at the edges of your brain. you needed to get out of here. fast.

your phone. yes. a perfect excuse. you yanked it out of your bag, squinting at the screen like you’d just received the most urgent message of your life. "shit," you muttered. "i gotta go."

you were already pushing up from your seat before anyone could react. nam-gyu's hand slid off your thigh, his fingers barely catching against your skin before falling away completely.

"wait—what? already?"

"yeah, sorry," you said quickly, grabbing your coat, your bag, whatever you needed just to make a clean escape. "totally forgot i had something early tomorrow. can’t stay."

someone called after you. maybe thanos. maybe one of the girls. you weren’t sure. you weren’t listening. you were already weaving through the crowd, heart hammering, barely remembering to toss a quick "bye!" over your shoulder before the club swallowed you whole.

still sitting on the couch, nam-gyu's mind was spinning, and he was barely even drunk.

of course you were a virgin.

it all made sense now. the way you looked at him sometimes, the hesitation, the way you could go from teasing to flustered in seconds. the way you pulled back like you weren’t sure what would happen if you didn’t. and maybe he should’ve known, maybe it was obvious, but somehow, it still caught him off guard.

he hazily glanced toward where you'd just left, the rest of the crowd still laughing and talking around him.

nam-gyu wasn’t the type to walk girls home.

but then again, he also wasn’t the type to like girls.

so he did the only thing that made sense—he downed the rest of his drink, got up without bothering to say goodbye, and pushed his way through the club.

it was late. the streets were dangerous. he didn’t want you to die or whatever.

when he finally stepped out, the streets were dark, damp from earlier rain, and the air was sharp against his skin. he scanned the sidewalk, found you a few blocks ahead. you were walking fast, arms tucked close, head slightly down.

he hated this. hated how he cared. hated how natural it felt to push through the lingering crowd, to break into an easy jog—casual enough to not look stupid, but fast enough to close the distance. he just hoped everyone else was too drunk to remember him, of all people, running after someone.

“hey!” he called out once he was just a few steps behind you.

you turned at the sound of his voice, startled.

he caught the flicker of something on your face before you wiped it away—too fast, too practiced. a tear.

“nam-gyu?” you asked, confusion in your voice. “what—”

“i’ll walk you home.” he shrugged, casual, like it was no big deal. like it was just something to do. he shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he caught up to you, his face carefully neutral.

you gulped. the last thing you wanted was to be around him right now.

“okay.” you trailed off, unsure of what else to say. how had it come to this? you’d survived hell together, yet suddenly, everything was so awkward. he wondered the same thing as he walked beside you, lighting up a cigarette.

you felt bad. it wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it. a million times, actually. nam-gyu seemed so experienced, so mature, and you were just… a virgin. all those times you’d stopped things before they got too heated, all those times you’d held yourself back.

you weren’t even boyfriend and girlfriend. you didn’t want to burden him with the responsibility of taking your virginity. it was stupid, but you knew how men felt about it. they didn’t want some little girl who didn’t know what she was doing. they didn’t want to deal with it.

so ever since the games, ever since you two had started… whatever this was, you’d felt like you were leading him on. you knew you couldn’t keep it up forever. sooner or later, he’d find out and leave. you just hadn’t expected it to be this soon.

after a whole block in silence, he finally spoke.

"so you're a virgin?" nam-gyu blurted out, though he already knew the answer.

it wasn’t a judgment, just an observation—dry, matter-of-fact. he took a slow drag from his cigarette, the ember flaring briefly in the dim light before fading into the night air.

you cursed under your breath, shutting your eyes like that might somehow erase the last ten minutes of existence. as if not seeing him would make this less mortifying.

“…yeah.” the word barely made it past your lips, your voice low, hesitant.

when you finally risked a glance at him, he wasn’t even looking at you. his gaze was fixed on the cracked pavement, the faintest furrow in his brow betraying some kind of thought process.

you sighed, arms crossing tightly over your chest. “i know it sucks. i’m sorry for not telling you, but it’s not exactly something that comes up after almost dying multiple times playing kids’ games! like—hey, i know we just survived the most traumatic experience of our lives, but by the way, i’m a fucking vir—”

"'s fine."

the words were abrupt, cutting your rambling off before you could spiral any further.

you blinked, arms falling to your sides as you realized you’d been gesturing wildly, like that might somehow defend your own inexperience. meanwhile, nam-gyu just kept walking, cigarette perched between his fingers, deep in thought.

"really? you're fine with it?" you asked.

the truth was, nam-gyu wasn’t exactly thrilled.

it wasn’t even about you being a virgin, not really. it was the fact that he’d thought about fucking you ever since the games. which was humiliating enough to admit to himself. a man had his needs, after all. but once again, he found himself in the unfortunate position of giving a shit.

he exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

"…yeah." his voice was low, clipped. he wasn't mad—just thinking. weighing his options. where would this leave you?

he hated himself for liking you this much. not being an asshole was unfamiliar territory.

"if you don’t wanna have sex, i understand," he added after a beat.

you widened your eyes. "no, no!" you rushed out. "i do wanna have sex."

his brain stalled.

you swallowed, hesitating as he watched you, gaze steady but sharp, like he was trying to read between the lines. you shifted, tucking your hands into your sleeves. "i've just… never done it. and i don’t know… i didn’t wanna bother you or… anything."

it sounded beyond awkward.

nam-gyu frowned, processing. not because he thought anything bad about it—just because it never occurred to him. he’d assumed you weren’t interested in having sex at all, or that you were waiting for some deep, poetic reason, for someone that wasn't nam-gyu. but now you were here, telling him this, cheeks burning, voice all soft and uncertain.

and now he had to keep his shit together.

"so… you want me to, like…" his dick twitched in his pants, betraying him immediately. no way this was happening.

"i mean—only if you want to…" your cheeks were burning, you were sure of that now. you felt like a teenager talking to her crush.

if he wanted to? his jaw went slack for a second, a breath slipping out as he stared at you. it was barely a question.

"fuck yeah, i want to," he let out, low and firm, like he needed you to understand.

something shifted then. the air got tighter, the weight of the moment settling between you. you bit your lip, eyes flickering over his face like you were still trying to wrap your head around this. then, slowly, a smile crept onto your lips—breathless, nervous, electric.

"okay." you let out a shaky little laugh, grabbing his wrist. your grip was warm, solid, like you’d made up your mind and there was no going back now. "okay, let’s go."

nam-gyu nodded, following your lead, his heart hammering in his chest as he picked up the pace. your apartment wasn’t that far.

the apartment was quiet when you stumbled in, breathless, a little drunk, and buzzing with something you didn’t quite know how to name. nam-gyu followed, the door clicking shut behind him as he leaned back against it for a second, exhaling like he was trying to steady himself.

the air between you was thick, charged with a long time of yearning. your heartbeat thrummed in your ears as you toed off your shoes, glancing over at him. he was watching you, the way he always did—like he was already thinking ten steps ahead, figuring out how this was going to play out.

he hadn’t touched you yet. he was letting you decide.

so you did.

you took a step closer, then another, until you were right in front of him, your fingers hesitating before curling around the hem of his jacket. his breath hitched, just barely, and that was all the confirmation you needed.

you pushed up onto your toes, closing the space between you. his lips were warm, the taste of smoke lingering faintly as he kissed you back. he let you set the pace, his hands coming to rest lightly on your waist, thumbs brushing against the fabric of your dress.

it wasn’t the first time you’d kissed, but something about this was different. more urgent. more deliberate. maybe because, for once, there was no stopping this time.

your fingers tugged at his jacket, slipping it off his shoulders. he let it fall to the floor, his hands finally pressing into you properly, gripping your waist, pulling you closer. a quiet sound slipped from your lips, and you felt the way he stiffened at that, his grip tightening.

“fuck,” he muttered, voice rough. he pulled back just enough to search your face, his dark eyes flicking between yours. “you sure?”

you nodded, chest rising and falling with each breath. “yeah.”

a muscle in his jaw twitched. his fingers brushed the side of your neck, then curled around it, his thumb ghosting over your pulse. “we stop if you change your mind.”

you swallowed. “i won’t.”

the look he gave you was unreadable—something dark and determined—before he tilted your chin up, kissing you deeper this time, slower, like he wanted to make sure you felt every second of it.

nam-gyu wasn’t soft—he wasn’t sweet. he wasn’t the kind of man to whisper tender nothings or stroke your hair. he didn’t coddle. but the way his hands moved told you everything you needed to know.

the drag of his fingers down your spine. the slow, deliberate way his palm flattened against the small of your back, pressing you flush against him. the heat in his touch, like he was holding himself back, forcing himself to move slow, to let you set the pace. it sent a shiver through you, and his grip tightened in response, like he felt it too.

you let out a breath, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, and he exhaled sharply against your lips before pulling back just a fraction, enough to look at you properly. his dark eyes roamed over your face, pupils blown, jaw tight.

"you're nervous." it wasn't a question.

you swallowed. "a little."

his thumb brushed against your waist, almost absentmindedly. "yeah. that makes sense."

you let out a small, breathy laugh, but there was an edge of vulnerability to it. he could see it. you could tell.

he tilted his head, watching you like he was trying to figure something out. then he exhaled slowly, his fingers tracing over your skin with a gentleness that was completely at odds with the sharp, rough way he usually carried himself.

"you know i won’t fuck this up, right?" his voice was low, almost casual, but there was something else beneath it. something steadier.

you hesitated for half a second before nodding. "i know." and you did. maybe that was why you'd never let anyone else touch you like this before. because it wasn’t about inexperience, not really. it was about trust.

and god help you, but you trusted nam-gyu.

the realization sent a flush through you, warmth blooming in your stomach as you let your hands slide up his abdomen, tracing the firm lines of chest beneath his shirt. his breath hitched just barely before his fingers flexed against you, like he was restraining himself from just taking.

"you wanna do this?" he asked, one last time, voice rough.

"yeah," you breathed.

his jaw clenched. "then tell me what you want."

you blinked up at him, suddenly hyperaware of the fact that he'd stopped moving, waiting, his hands resting heavy against your hips but not pulling, not pushing.

he was making you say it.

bastard.

you bit your lip, pulse hammering as you tried to work around the knot of tension in your throat. "i—i want you to touch me."

his fingers twitched, his entire body going still for a second. then he let out a breath through his nose, and his grip on your waist tightened.

"yeah?" his voice was just a little lower, a little rougher.

you nodded, heat pooling in your stomach at the way he was looking at you now—like he was barely keeping himself in check.

"get on the bed," he said.

your breath caught.

for a moment, you just stared at him, heart hammering, and then, slowly, you walked to your bedroom, him following you close. you backed up toward the bed, your knees hitting the edge as you lowered yourself down.

he followed, standing at the foot of the bed, watching you with that unreadable expression—half lustful, half like he couldn’t believe this was real. his hands went to his belt, and your eyes flickered down, pulse spiking at the sound of the leather slipping through the loops.

then, instead of undressing fully, he leaned down, hands bracketing your hips, pressing you back against the mattress.

"you ever let anyone touch you like this?" his voice was rough, like he already knew the answer.

you shook your head, breathless. "no."

a low sound escaped him, something dark, something pleased. his hands slipped under your skirt, palms dragging slow over your thighs as he pushed the fabric up. he took his time, tracing the shape of you, pressing just firmly enough to make you squirm.

"you thought about it, though," he murmured. it wasn’t a question. his thumbs brushed the sensitive skin at the tops of your thighs, eyes locked onto yours.

you swallowed hard. "…yeah."

his lips twitched, almost a smirk. "yeah? thought about me?"

your face burned. he was being cruel on purpose, making you say it.

"…yes."

"fuck," he muttered, like the confirmation did something to him. his hands moved higher, fingers hooking into the band of your underwear, but instead of pulling them down, he let them rest there, teasing.

"how’d you think it’d go?" his voice was lower now, almost a growl. "thought i'd just take you fast, rough? pin you down, fuck the innocence out of you?"

you sucked in a sharp breath, thighs twitching beneath his touch. he huffed a quiet laugh.

"bet you didn't think i'd take my time," he murmured, leaning down, pressing his mouth to the side of your neck. his lips dragged over your pulse, then lower, leaving a slow, open-mouthed kiss against your collarbone. "but i like knowing i'm the first one."

you gasped softly as his hands finally moved, slipping under your top, dragging it up inch by inch until he could pull it over your head. your arms instinctively came up to cover yourself, but he caught your wrists, pushing them aside.

"none of that," he muttered, his gaze dropping to your bare chest. he exhaled sharply, running his thumbs along the curve of your breasts before cupping them fully, testing the weight in his palms.

"fuck, look at you," he muttered, voice low and reverent. "so fucking pretty."

you whimpered as his thumbs brushed over your nipples in slow circles. he watched your face the whole time, reading every tiny reaction, every sharp intake of breath.

"sensitive," he noted, almost to himself. then he leaned down, tongue flicking over one peak before wrapping his lips around it, sucking just enough to make you gasp.

heat coiled low in your stomach as he worked, alternating between each breast, slow and thorough. it was overwhelming, the way he was handling you—not rough, not rushed, just taking his time, learning every inch of you.

one of his hands trailed lower, down your stomach, to the waistband of your panties. he paused, looking up at you, waiting.

you nodded, exhaling shakily. "please."

his smirk deepened. "good girl."

he peeled your panties down your legs, his fingers skimming over your skin like he was savoring the moment. you shivered at the sensation, at the weight of his gaze as he settled between your thighs.

“fuck,” nam-gyu muttered under his breath, like he hadn’t been prepared for what he was seeing. his hands splayed against your inner thighs, pressing them further apart, baring you completely to him. he didn’t look away, eyes dark and hungry, his tongue running over his bottom lip like he could already taste you.

your body burned under the scrutiny. you weren’t used to this—being seen like this, having someone take their time looking. you twitched, about to press your legs together, but his grip tightened.

“uh-uh,” he murmured, almost amused. “you’re gonna let me look.”

you swallowed hard, breath catching as he leaned in, his nose brushing the soft skin of your inner thigh. his breath was hot, sending a shiver through you as he exhaled, slow and controlled.

he dragged a single finger up the length of your slit, just enough to make you jolt, to make your breath stutter. "you're soaked, girl. you sure you've never done this before?"

heat surged through you at the teasing lilt in his voice, and you let out a shaky breath. "i—fuck, nam-gyu—"

"yeah?" he smirked, but it wasn’t cocky. it was something else, something almost fascinated. like he was enjoying this in a way he hadn’t expected.

his fingers traced slow, teasing circles over your clit, barely any pressure, just enough to make you whimper. your hips twitched, and his grip tightened, keeping you pinned.

"relax," he murmured, his voice low, almost gentle. "let me make you feel good."

then he leaned down.

you barely had time to register the shift before his tongue was on you, warm and wet and unbearably slow. your breath caught, your fingers twisting into the sheets as his mouth worked you open, his tongue dragging through your folds, lazy and thorough.

"fuck," he muttered against you, his voice rough. "you taste so fucking sweet."

the way he said it sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in your stomach. his hands pressed into your thighs, spreading you wider, keeping you open as he ate you like he had all the time in the world.

it was overwhelming—the way he was licking you, slow and deep, like he was savoring it. like he was getting off on this just as much as you were. his nose brushed against your clit with every stroke of his tongue, and it was too much, not enough, all at once.

your back arched, a desperate sound slipping from your lips. he groaned low in his throat, the vibration sending a shudder through you. "that's it," he murmured, his voice almost slurred against your skin. "let me hear you."

one of his hands slid up, his thumb replacing his tongue on your clit, rubbing slow, tight circles as he pressed his mouth lower, flicking his tongue against your entrance, teasing the edge.

"nam-gyu—" your voice broke on his name, breathless and desperate, and his grip tightened.

"fuck, you sound good," he muttered. his tongue pushed inside you, and the sensation sent a sharp bolt of pleasure up your spine, made your thighs shake.

"think you can take me?" he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. "gotta get you ready for me."

you gasped as he pushed a finger inside, slow and steady, curling it just right. he groaned at the way you clenched around him, his tongue lapping up every reaction, every sound.

"shit," he muttered. "so tight. gonna feel so fucking good."

the words alone made your stomach tighten, the heat coiling low, winding tighter and tighter. he added a second finger, stretching you open, thrusting slow, deep, his tongue still working your clit.

it was too much. the pressure built fast, overwhelming, unbearable. your thighs trembled around his head, your fingers tightening in his hair.

"i—" your breath hitched, your body tensing.

he growled low in his throat, his fingers pressing deep, his tongue flicking faster, relentless. "come for me."

and you did.

the pleasure hit hard, shattering through you, knocking the air from your lungs. your back arched, your body tightening around his fingers, and he groaned against you, drinking in every last tremor, working you through it, drawing it out until you were shaking beneath him, gasping for breath.

only then did he finally pull back, his breath ragged, his lips slick and swollen. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes dark, almost feverish as he looked at you.

"fuck," he muttered, voice rough, almost awed.

he climbed up over you, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your jaw, then your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. his hands framed your face, thumbs brushing against your skin, steadying you.

his exhale was sharp, controlled, but his grip on your waist betrayed him—fingers digging in, like he had to hold himself back from wrecking you completely. his forehead dropped to yours for half a second, just long enough for you to feel the way his breath came heavy, ragged.

"you're gonna kill me," he muttered, half a groan, half a laugh, before he pulled back, eyes flicking down your body—like he was trying to commit every inch of you to memory. his fingers traced your thigh absentmindedly, like he still couldn't believe you were letting him touch you.

then he sat back, unbuttoning his jeans.

your breath hitched as you watched him work, his knuckles going white with how tightly he was gripping his belt. the leather slid through the loops with a sharp snap, and your thighs pressed together instinctively at the sound. his lips curled slightly—he noticed.

"don't get shy on me now," he murmured, voice thick with amusement, but he wasn't smirking anymore. no, his expression was darker, sharper. his fingers moved with slow, measured precision as he unzipped his jeans, pushing them down just enough to free himself.

your stomach flipped.

you had no idea what you'd been expecting, but whatever it was—it wasn't this. he was…big. thick. a flush creeping up his shaft, his tip swollen and slick with arousal. you stared, suddenly feeling very aware of your own inexperience, of the way your body still trembled faintly from the orgasm he'd just given you.

nam-gyu noticed.

"yeah?" his voice was rough, teasing, but there was something else beneath it—something dangerously satisfied. his fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, giving it a slow, lazy stroke, like he was savoring the moment. "that nervous?"

you swallowed hard, forcing your eyes back to his face. he looked wrecked, his dark hair falling into his eyes, his mouth slightly parted. his chest rose and fell heavily, like it was taking effort not to just pin you down and take—

"i can take it," you said, before you could second-guess yourself. your voice was breathless but steady, your chin tilting up just slightly in challenge.

his jaw locked.

for a second, he just looked at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips, like he was seeing you—really seeing you—for the first time. then, suddenly, his grip on your waist tightened, dragging you down the mattress until your thighs framed his hips.

"yeah," he murmured, almost to himself. his hand brushed over your stomach, your hip, sliding back down between your legs. his fingers traced your entrance, feeling the way you were still soaked for him. "i think you can, too."

your breath stuttered as he pressed two fingers inside you again, stretching you open. his thumb found your clit, rubbing soft, teasing circles—not enough to push you over, just enough to make your breath hitch.

"nam-gyu—" you gasped, hips twitching under his touch.

his free hand came up, catching your chin, tilting your head so you had to look at him. his eyes were dark, blown out with something almost ravenous.

"you still sure?" he murmured, voice low. "tell me you want it."

your pulse pounded.

you could feel how badly he wanted you, how much effort it was taking for him to hold back. and yet—he still gave you the choice. he was still waiting.

your heart clenched.

"yes," you whispered. "please."

his restraint snapped.

the second your lips formed that word, he was on you—pulling his fingers from your slick heat, gripping himself, pressing the thick, flushed head of his cock right against your entrance. he didn't push in. not yet. instead, he rocked against you, rubbing his length along your slit, smearing himself in your wetness, letting you feel every ridge, every inch of his size before he even tried to fit.

your breath hitched. your nails dug deep into his forearms, your body instinctively tensing.

"relax," he murmured, voice tight, nearly hoarse, like he was fighting against the instinct to just take. his free hand smoothed up your thigh, over the curve of your waist, warm, steady, grounding. "breathe."

you tried. you really did. forced your lungs to expand, to exhale, to let go of the tension gripping your muscles. but the second he started to push in, all that breath stuttered out in a sharp, broken gasp.

it was too much. the stretch, the slow, inch-by-inch burn as his cock forced your body to open around him, to take him. a kind of ache you’d never felt before, raw and overwhelming—too much and not enough, like your body was fighting him even as it craved more.

"fuck," he gritted out, his jaw clenching so tight you could see the muscle jump. his hands flexed against your skin, his entire body trembling with restraint. "jesus, baby—you're so fucking tight—"

your stomach flipped at the words, heat pooling deep in your core. he never talked to you like that. never called you things like that. but now, here he was, panting above you, voice wrecked and reverent, murmuring praise like he couldn’t help it.

after a few seconds, you whimpered, hands gripping his shoulders. "more."

his control broke.

he pushed in, slow but deep, a smooth, deliberate thrust that seated him all the way inside you in one stroke. your breath tore from your lungs, your back arching as the stretch bloomed into something fuller, hotter, the ache curling into something dangerously close to pleasure.

nam-gyu groaned, dropping his forehead against your shoulder. "holy fuck," he rasped, voice wrecked, almost pained. his fingers dug into your hips, like he was holding on for dear life. "so fucking good—you're so tight, so perfect, fuck—"

your pulse pounded in your throat, your entire body thrumming with sensation. there was still a burn, still that overwhelming fullness, but beneath it was something else—something deeper, something good.

you shifted your hips, testing, trying to ease the pressure.

his entire body locked up.

"don't—" his voice was strangled, desperate. his hands tightened, pinning you down. "don't fucking move, or i’m gonna lose it."

every muscle in his body was taut, locked, like a predator barely holding back from sinking its teeth in. his fingers bit into your hips, warning you, anchoring himself—but you could feel it. the way he was shaking. the way his cock twitched, buried so deep inside you you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

you swallowed hard, pulse hammering, skin burning where he touched you.

it was too much. too deep. too thick. your body fought to adjust, pulsing around him in helpless, desperate flutters.

he groaned, low and guttural, pressing his forehead harder into your shoulder like he was in pain. “jesus christ.” his breath was hot against your skin, ragged, almost like he was laughing. “gripping me so fucking tight. gonna break me."

you shivered at the rasp of his voice, your fingers sliding up his back, feeling the strain in his muscles. the raw need in him. you were doing this to him. you, all wet and trembling underneath him, still adjusting, still unsure—and he was losing his mind over it.

you swallowed, tried to steady your breath. "you can move," you whispered.

his entire body tensed.

you barely had a second to register the shift before he pulled back, just an inch, and then—slow, deep—he thrust in again.

your breath shattered. your mouth fell open, no sound coming out at first, just a strangled, breathless whimper.

then, before you could so much as blink, he started moving—pulling out halfway before snapping his hips forward again, setting a rhythm that had your breath stuttering in your throat.

he wasn't just fucking you—he was making sure you felt every inch of him, dragging it out, taking his time. and god help you, but it felt so fucking good.

"shit—" you gasped, fingers twisting in the sheets.

his hand slipped between you, his thumb pressing right against your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts. your entire body jerked, pleasure sparking through your nerves like lightning.

"yeah," he muttered, watching you like he was starving. "that’s it. let me see you fucking fall apart."

nam-gyu’s rhythm grew rougher, sharper—his control slipping, his hips snapping forward with a force that had you gasping, clawing at his back. every thick inch of him dragged against your walls, the stretch now molten pleasure, the overwhelming feeling of fullness making your head spin. his body caged you in completely, heat rolling off him in waves, his skin slick with sweat.

"fuck," he rasped, voice ragged, his breath hot against your lips. "listen to you." his thumb pressed harder against your clit, rubbing tight, deliberate circles. "moaning like that—so fucking needy, aren’t you?"

"fuck," you gasped, your nails raking down his back, desperate for more.

nam-gyu groaned, dropping his head to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "shit, you're taking me so fucking good," he muttered, his teeth grazing over your throat before he kissed you there—open-mouthed and messy, dragging his tongue over your pulse like he could taste how wrecked you were for him. "never had anyone inside you, huh? no one’s ever had you like this—"

his words made your stomach flip, a desperate, aching heat blooming in your core. you shook your head, gasping. "no—"

"fuck, baby," he groaned. "you don’t even fucking know—" his lips found your collarbone, biting down just enough to make you jolt, his tongue flicking out to soothe the sting. "how long i've been thinking about this. how long i've wanted to have my cock inside this pretty pussy."

his hands slid up, gripping your tits, squeezing, kneading the soft flesh in his palms. his fingers flicked over your nipples, rolling them between his fingertips, and you whimpered, the pleasure making you arch into his touch.

nam-gyu groaned, his tongue darting out to trace the swell of your breast before his mouth wrapped around your nipple, sucking hard.

"oh my god—" your back arched, your fingers twisting into his dark hair, holding him there.

he chuckled, a low, breathy sound against your skin, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak before he sucked again, harder this time, drawing a desperate whine from your lips. his hips kept moving, slow but deep, every thrust sending a new wave of pleasure through you, making your stomach coil tighter.

"you're so fucking good," he murmured against your skin, moving to your other breast, giving it the same attention—his lips wrapping around the stiff peak, sucking, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. "so fucking tight, taking me so well—fuck, i knew you would."

you whimpered, the heat inside you winding tight, too much and not enough at the same time. your thighs trembled around his waist, your nails dragging down his back.

"nam-gyu," you gasped, voice wrecked, desperate. "please—"

"please what?" he pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips swollen, his eyes dark, burning with something almost possessive. his fingers slid down between you, finding your clit again, circling it with slow, precise movements. "tell me what you need, baby."

you sobbed at the pressure, at the way it made your body twitch beneath him. "i—i wanna cum—"

his jaw tightened, his thrusts growing sharper, faster, the wet sounds of your bodies moving together filling the room.

"yeah?" his voice was strained, breathless. "you wanna cum all over my fucking cock?"

"yes—yes—"

"then do it."

he pinched your clit, just the right amount of pressure, and the coil inside you snapped.

your orgasm hit hard, crashing over you in sharp, shuddering waves, making your entire body lock up beneath him. you let out a high, broken moan, your walls fluttering around him, pulsing, milking his cock as he fucked you through it.

"fuck—fuck—" nam-gyu groaned, his hips stuttering as you clenched around him, the tight grip of your body dragging him right to the fucking edge.

"shit," he rasped, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, his fingers digging into your hips as he snapped his hips forward, harder, rougher. "gonna—fuck, gonna fill you up—"

your entire body shuddered at his words, at the realization of what he was about to do, and you let out a breathless, desperate "please."

that was all it took.

he came, hard, his body trembling as he filled you, his grip tightening almost painfully as he groaned your name, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath ragged, wrecked.

the heat of him spilling inside you made your entire body tremble.

he didn’t pull out right away. he stayed, breathing heavy, pressing messy, open-mouthed kisses to your jaw, your cheek, your lips. his hands—no longer rough, no longer gripping—slid soft over your skin, smoothing down your sides, your waist, your thighs, as if he was soothing you.

you were still shaking, your body aching in the best possible way, your mind swimming in a haze of heat and exhaustion.

nam-gyu shifted, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close. his lips pressed to your temple, then your cheek, then—finally—soft against your lips.

"you’re a fucking dream," he murmured almost to himself, voice soft, like he couldn’t quite believe this was real.

your heart skipped.

then, before you could say anything, before you could think—

his hips rolled again, slow, lazy, his cock starting to harden again inside you.

"think you can handle another one?"

────────────────────────────────────────────

© servndipityz 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content without my permission.

[mrschwartz]

Alex Turner for Rumore Magazine (September 2013)

Seventies Heads and Modern Loves or I Don't Know What I Want But I Surely Want You

by Elia Alovisi

Until he opens his mouth, Alex Turner looks like he stepped out of the Nevada desert. Leather loafers, a belt, slicked-back hair, sunglasses. But as soon as he starts talking, between “summat” instead of “something” and “me” instead of “my,” he transforms back into a boy from Sheffield who grew up on cocktails and DJ sets. The discrepancy between the way he looks and the way he speaks is strange: you would expect a cocky and arrogant rock star, but instead you have before you a relaxed and thoughtful boy who carefully measures his words, but does so with a smile and not a frown. The lyrics of AM, the fifth album of his band, mainly revolve around difficult and elusive women. There are many questions. “Do I want to know?” “Are you mine?” he says; “Why do you always call me when you’re high?” she says. There is no shortage of desires: “I want it all,” “I want to be yours.” Absent, however, are the answers. We tried to get a few out of him.

How was it to be back at Glastonbury as a headliner five years after the first time?

Fantastic. Absolutely wonderful, this time it was very natural. Everything was harder in 2007, we had done a lot less shows and had a lot less songs. Now we have learned to move better.

After the experience of Humbug, you collaborated again with Josh Homme.

Yes, Josh is on Knee Socks, towards the end of the piece. We gave him carte blanche and he decided to sing a sort of counter-melody that reminds me a lot of Bowie.

Are knee socks your favorite piece of underwear on a woman?

[Laughs] What do you think?

If she has the right legs.

Exactly, yes. The best is the garter. But then they would not be Parisian anymore, right? And then they are thicker than women's stockings. However they are not my favorite underwear, I go with the push-up.

In the lyrics of Arabella you talk a lot about the universe.

I wanted to use that linguistic palette to try to describe a woman. There are many songs that use those sorts of words… galaxy, interstellar, constellation, things like that, but usually they are used just for the sake of being used. Instead I wanted to make them an active part of a description, they are images that I find very interesting. In England, on the BBC, there is this program called Wonders of the Universe, with Professor Brian Cox. And it is one of my favorite programs [smiles, pleased].

Barbarella also pops up in the text.

Yes, although I haven't read practically any of her comics and I've only seen a small piece of the movie. I don't really like B movies. To know her, you just need to have seen a poster, that's all you need. I just used her to make a comparison with the costume she wears.

How does the suite you sing about in Fireside relate to room 505 in Favourite Worst Nightmare?

Yes, I’m talking about a suite in my heart… or in her heart? Well, in someone’s heart. Room 505, in my mind, is something very concrete. I wrote that song on a train between Philadelphia and New York, my girlfriend was in a hotel waiting for me and I just wrote about that [Turner’s voice becomes increasingly whispered as the sentence progresses]. In Fireside, however, it’s all figurative.

So how much of your real self is in your lyrics and how much is just imagination?

There's no rule, sometimes there's a lot of me in the lyrics when you least expect it. I put little secrets in them. What I try to avoid is that people who listen to one of my songs say, 'oh, he's talking about that girl'. You know when you read a novel and, somehow, in your mind you see its characters with the faces of some of your friends, or your favorite actors? That's where I want to get to with my music, I want it to be like being in front of a story, not the evidence of two people with a name and a surname who are kissing. It's up to the listener to give them both a face. When I write I pretty much always have someone or something in mind, but it doesn't really matter.

How did you come up with the idea of ​​using John Cooper Clarke's words for I Wanna Be Yours?

We wrote most of the songs on this record on a four-track that I got for my birthday. I spent a while recording ideas on it, sometimes we'd loop a bass and drum melody for five minutes and the fact that it was on tape gave it an incredible color. Then I'd sit there with headphones and a microphone humming melodies, or making up silly lyrics to start coming up with ideas. One day, while I was jamming, the words I wanna be yours came out and I remembered that they were the title of one of his poems. I thought it would be cool to use someone else's words – and especially his, I'm a big fan of his. It's one of my favorite songs on the record, the lyrics alone make it different from anything we've done before. And then I love the juxtaposition of the slow, sexy, flirtatious music and his words.

The party you talk about in No. 1 Party Anthem seems a lot more laid back than the ones you’ve talked about in the past, like the house in This House Is A Circus.

That’s true, but the parties we go to are still pretty messy. They’re just twice as long.

Am I supposed to be imagining some sort of indie celebrity party?

Indie celebrity party? [Laughs.] No, no, no. The slow tempo of that song gives it a bit of a Los Angeles feel. It’s a city that I’m told is very similar to what we’re portraying on the new record, and I’m starting to think that might be true. Not that it sounds like the Eagles, you know.

It's like your sound is becoming more and more American.

Yeah, maybe. There's something special about that part of the world. Everything that came out of California owes something to '70s rock, the spontaneity of those rhythms also comes back in West Coast hip-hop. But then came the fucking '80s and… a lot of fucking bands that don't fit into that theory. I think there will always be something English in our sound, it's something we can never detach ourselves from.

How much does Sheffield still mean to what you do?

Well, you know… [he taps two fingers on a tattoo on the inside of his arm: the Yorkshire rose and underneath it the word “SHEFFIELD”].

There are three songs on AM whose titles are questions.

You don't notice things like that until you sit there and write the titles of the songs one after the other. I hadn't noticed until then, there are also a lot of wanna.

The protagonist of R U Mine? is wrapped up in a certain western imagery, you portray her as “a lone cowboy riding in an open space.” And in All My Own Stunts you talked about “watching cowboy movies on gloomy afternoons.”

I love the western style. The leather ties, the belts… Hey, look at this one I’m wearing! [He stands up and shows me his leather belt, turning his back: it has “TURNER” engraved on it, on either side of the horseshoes.] A friend gave it to me for my birthday, this year was really nice, between this and the four-track. I also love western movies, especially the ones about Butch Cassidy. I also love Ennio Morricone’s soundtracks, obviously.

How do you usually celebrate your birthdays?

They’re nothing too devastating. I have a birthday in early January, everyone is still recovering from Christmas and New Year’s, so the average response I get is usually “forget it.”

Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High? brings back the drunken text messages you mentioned in The View From the Afternoon.

We've all done that at least once, come on. Those lyrics might have come off the first record, but the music is fully invested in what we're doing now. I just wanted to write something simple.

While we're on the subject: when was the last time you got bounced at the entrance of a nightclub? It's not like From The Ritz To The Rubble anymore, is it?

Shit, that was like four weeks ago! [Laughs.] We were in Stockholm, we were trying to get into an area of ​​the nightclub and there was no way we could get in.

What are those Mad Sounds you're talking about?

That song is about those moments when you put on a song and it's like it's talking about exactly how you feel. It's a song about those songs, and I hope it can become one of them. I get that feeling from some songs by Lou Reed, John Cale, or Harry Nilsson. It's like sometimes they really understand how I feel, and you're like, "What the fuck..." and you almost tell them to go fuck themselves.

The point where the song explodes is when you start singing a series of ooh-la-la-la. What is the la-la-la moment that sticks with you the most from the music you listen to?

Definitely the do-dodo-dodo-do-do-do-do from Walk on the Wild Side by Lou Reed.

By the way, who came up with the idea of ​​calling a song The Hellcat Spangled Shalalala? What does that mean?

It came up one day when we were making up names for guitar pedals – sometimes they have crazy names. The Blond-o-Sonic Shimmer Trap  would be perfect for a fuzz, for example. The Hellcat Spangled Shalalala, however, comes from a bar we hung out in a lot while we were writing the previous record. The room was full of glitter and there were a lot of weird chicks all winking, like cougars.

The lyrics to Snap Out of It revolve around hypnosis. Do you think there's any real power behind it or is it just persuasion?

I've never been hypnotised, but it all seems pretty real when you watch hypnotists on telly. There's this show in the UK where this guy, Derren Brown, gets people to do all sorts of things. Crazy stuff like, "rob someone!" Nothing I'd want to be involved with.

In I Want It All you say, “Leave me listening to the Stones 2000 light years from home.”

I’m actually a Beatles guy, no doubt. But I like them both, I saw the Stones at Glastonbury and it was great.

Don't you think it's better for a band to go at the top of their game than to keep going and going and risk having nothing left to say?

What the Stones have managed to do is really extraordinary. I mean, they're seventy years old and they're still on stage. It's very difficult to have an opinion on something like this because I don't think I've reached that level yet. I'm very excited about the new album, we've reached the point of being a good live band and, speaking as an artist, I think I've reached a certain excellence this time. I want to build on that, explore new things. We still have a lot of places to go.

I think the main difference between AM and your previous albums is the small amount of guitars.

This time we didn't want to sound like four guys playing in the same room, while that's exactly what we wanted to sound like in Suck It And See. We immersed ourselves in a more minimalist idea. The guitars are perfect, sometimes they don't even sound like guitars from the way they're played, or from the effects we put on them. They sound a bit "spacey," they would be good for the stereo of a flying saucer. Then we came out with some bass and drum parts perfect to be played at full volume through the speakers of a car. We also worked much more with the vocal lines, especially with the choirs.

There are actually a lot of songs where you put backing vocals and backing vocals, especially One For The Road.

Matt, Nick and I do them. Jamie is the only one who doesn't want to have anything to do with them. It all started with R U Mine? , the part where we all start going: [hums the backing vocals]. As soon as we tried that part we realized how good it sounded, we especially liked the fact that it was something we hadn't done before. So we just went for it.

[serpentarius]

been trying to wrap my head around the cancellation of "Our Flag Means Death" and why it hurts so fucking much. lots of folks who are much more eloquent than I have summed it up perfectly, but I still think it’s important I add my voice to the matter. 

It really, really sucks that the hurt is being compounded on us every time another queer/minority-led show gets prematurely cancelled. and for a long while, we also had to deal with the many shows that deliberately queerbaited us, which was a shitty and traumatic experience unto its own. And even though we’ve largely surpassed that early-‘00s-flavoured brand of queerbait now, mainstream queer media is still predominantly white-led. With the cancellation of OFMD, we've lost one of the very few intersectional queer shows in the mainstream. Shouldn’t we be beyond asking for crumbs at this point? Shouldn’t we get unabashedly intersectional shows helmed by and starring queer, BIPOC, and trans folks without them being axed for no rhyme or reason?

It’s exhausting at this point, honestly. OFMD has done so well in terms of viewership and engagement and fan response—almost entirely due to word of mouth and little thanks to the Max marketing team, mind you—and even still the show got cancelled? Can they make it make sense????

For me, the thing most akin to this OFMD situation was when Sense8 got cancelled. And yes, the fandom fought, and we eventually DID get a movie that wrapped things up years later! That gives me hope for OFMD, that maybe another network will pick it up, or maybe they’ll be able to make a movie someday. But what makes me sad about cases like Sense8 is knowing that the creators still had to force the narrative around the amount of time they were given. That the corporate overlords who only care about numbers and profit dictated how much time they had to wrap up their story.

And it fucking kills me that DJ only wanted one more season. One more season to complete the vision.

I'm just so mad that queer people are constantly being jerked around and used for profit and then left high and dry. And then we're given excuses like "oh there's no budget" or "oh there's not enough viewership, that's all it is". like, sure, maybe those are contributing factors, but then I look at all the useless garbage shows that have little viewership and high budgets that keep going forever and then I think "hmmmm, the math ain't mathing." It's fucking transparent; the corporations can spew all they want with their rainbow capitalism and talks about diversity, but the evidence is clear, and they can't convince me homophobia/racism/transphobia/etc. is not a factor in these decisions.

Anyways, back to OFMD. OFMD made me fall in love with fandom again. I drifted away from fandom for a while in my 20s, and while OFMD wasn't the first fandom that drew me back into the madness, it's certainly the largest. The sheer amount of creativity both within the show and outside of it has blown me away; I've read some of the best fics, seen some of the best art, and witnessed some of the most incredible creativity from people in this fandom.

And let's not forget the role of the show's creators and how they've interacted with us fans. They made us feel seen. And made us feel loved and valid, even when we were being weird and loud and horny. It's so fucking rare to see that. But they understood; understood that the show they made was for us, for any of us who've been marginalized or made to feel Othered or different or stuck in life or unsure of our identities. And they gave us so much love for it.

The story... man. The unique combination of quirky humour and bright visuals and dark, introspective moments, the gorgeous costumes and soft, lovely, unabashed queerness, and veteran actors and new actors all getting to shine, brilliant comedic actors getting to show off their dramatic chops and vice versa. For me, seeing Rhys Darby - an actor I've loved for a long time, but who I never thought I'd see in a leading role - getting to be the romantic lead in a queer role? And seeing acclaimed director/producer/screenwriter/actor Taika Waititi play opposite Rhys, as an indigenous Blackbeard? Fucking incredible. OFMD Edward Teach you will always be famous to me.

Anyways... despite my long ramblings here, I still don’t think I've been able to get to the root of WHY exactly this show has inched its way under my skin and stayed with me in the way it has. Maybe I'll spend years trying to understand it. But I DO know that it's in part to do with seeing both older queers AND a diverse range of queerness onscreen, in a way that I've never seen in media before. I DO know that OFMD has forced me to look inwardly, and allowed me to realize some important things about myself. About my own queerness, my own identity, things I'm still figuring out. I've cherished being able to see myself in Stede, in Ed, and each of the crew members. In Roach’s love for cooking, in Oluwande’s ability to mediate; in Jim’s quick temper, in the way Izzy builds walls to guard his heart. In Buttons’ quirkiness, in Wee John’s sass, in Frenchie’s ability to turn pain into humour; in The Swede’s silliness, in Lucius’ bluntness, in Pete’s soft heart beneath the skepticism. Lastly, OFMD has inspired me. To create, to write, to draw, to devour other peoples' works and worlds while I sit in sheer, overflowing joyousness at their talent.

so yeah. the news of this cancellation is upsetting and hurtful and disappointing. And it's making us cry, and it's making us grieve, and may make us hollow and numb at times because we've lost yet another thing we love so deeply before it was meant to go. It's so much more than "just a TV show". It means more to us than any passive mindless idiotic mind-numbing bullshit - because even though there's a time and a place and a purpose for that type of media, it's the thought-provoking work, the work that creators pour their entire hearts and souls into, that hit us deep in our own souls. The work that changes our lives. The work that has the ability to save lives, as I know OFMD has done for so many. 

please know I'm sending immense amounts of love and strength to those of you who are also hurting. we'll get through this, one way or another, and I'll keep up with the hope that we'll get more someday; but in the meantime, I'm holding you tight. ❤️️🫂

[chosotallgf]

DOUBLE IDENTITY #2 - TOJI FUSHIGURO

🔙 previous chapter Next chapter🔜

SYNOPSIS y/n is a third year college student who is about to intern for the top business company in Japan in a week, what happens when she unknowingly cross paths with her future boss not knowing he's hiding a secret.

WARNINGS mafiaboss toji x fém!reader, geto x fém! reader, alcohol, moderate au, sexual activity, criminal activity & behavior, naoya is his own warning, angst & fluff (not really lol) not proof read

p.s my work is only on A03 & tumblr!

Fast forward arriving at the club, shoko usually gets us in faster by talking to the bouncer. So happen she found out he was the guy she fake flirts with at the gym she ‘occasionally’ goes to. She said he landed a job here not so long ago, that he needed the extra money and was helping out a friend. Finally stepping into the club it was pack as hell no wonder utahime wanted to get here as soon as possible.

This is one of the main popular clubs in the city, surprisingly it’s not just made up of college students in the area but locals come here as often too. As i squeeze through the crowd trying to keep up with my girls I can feel the loud bass of the club music in my chest. turning around shoko grabs my hand “come on I hear the the DJ is playing lots American of music tonight” she said while smiling. I haven’t listen too much to American music in my life time but if I had to pick it would be ‘Les’ by childish Gambino to be played at least once.

Reaching the other side of the club where the bar is utahime puts in a few orders of drinks than shoko, we usually always order something stronger each time we come here. not paying attention to what she was saying I happen to look down at the bartender hands, oddly his knuckles were bruise and you could tell they had been bloody by how dark they were from his pale skin but I guess that’s what happen when you work at a popular club with crazy drunks who don’t care. snapping out of my glaze when he clears his throat and utter “and what would you like ma’am?”

Now Looking up at his face trying to get out of my head “um can I have 3 margaritas and 1 rum coke pls?” I rely but soon enough utahime & shoko look at my funny they both know I have a low tolerance when it comes to drinking but I still do it anyways.

“What?” I question them “aren’t we suppose to have fun tonight like we planned, so I say fuck it” utahime smiles wides “you sure? You know you can just start off-“ but she gets cut off by the bartender guy “if she wants to have that much to drink let her life short” I nodded in agreement with him “see? nothing wrong that’s tomorrow me problem” “fine but don’t call us when you feel miserable from a hangover” utahime mumbles. “You should go find us a free section, we will bring the drinks out and find you” shoko slaps my shoulder from behind.

Off and further from where I left, I can’t find a free section maybe ‘maybe I should try the other side this club is huge tho’. Not looking forward I bump straight in to the chest of a man? I tumble backward but luckily before I could fall he catches my back. Now we are super close chest to chest i get a clear vision of his face despite the all black hoodie he’s wearing. dark dead eyes with a noticeable cut on one side of his lip. He’s staring back into my eyes This feeling of closeness is getting intimidating I wonder if he realizes his hands are clutching more firm on my lower back. I start to panic

“Omg I’m so sorry” I can feel heat in my face now. I can tell he was lost in thought too because as soon as I said that he quickly turned his face and pulls his hoodie down over his eyes and let’s go making me find my balance again. “Pay attention next time” he speaks in an aggressive but low tone. “I know I know I was just looking for a sect-“ he cuts and moves me out his way saying “tch, whatever” he mumbles as he walks to the private section area. how fucking rude I think.

Im surprise the club didn’t kick him out for being suspicious with a hoodie on in here, they honestly should after that. next think I know shoko is now in front of me yelling over the loud music clearly trispy “y/n stop standing around and come over here we found a spot” shoko starts pulling me along with her.

I get to our own section i assume but see two guys, both of them I recognize as utahime and shoko childhood friends. “since you couldn’t do a simple task I had to ask this dickhead here to let us sit” “you should be lucky, I wasn’t even planning on being here tonight, my usual dealer been Mia and I need stuff for next Thursday party” he wines.

“Anyways let’s get to drinking we’re wasting time” I grab and drowned the 2 cups of margaritas “well someone is in a hurry” I hear the other guy next to gojo say “I’m suguru geto” he reaches his hand out to me to shake. I do the same “I’m y/n and yeah I just wanna let loose tonight” his hands are so soft and firm I wonder if his long hair feels the same. “No judgement here me and satoru are about to do the same” “sooo shall we finally get started or what?” shoko utter as smoke leaves her mouth.

author note ~ if you are seeing this when it’s first posted I will post chapter 3 later on during the day it’s 5am rn for me and I can’t sleep lol. if you wanna be tagged in that just lmk :) 9/8/24

likes and reblog are appreciated

[lovesuhng]

start over

fluff, strangers to ?

Ending a relationship is always difficult, especially when it has lasted for years to the point of becoming an engagement. It was painful what you went through, but now it was time to start over, to take some time to rediscover yourself. 

That's how you decided to take a solo trip to a paradisiacal place. You weren't the kind of person who liked beaches, spending the day under the sun, but you felt it was necessary to have a new experience. You were at this hotel by the sea, where everyone said it had the best sunset view in the whole city. You had arrived and settled at one of the tables about an hour before the sun was supposed to set, as you had heard it would happen at 6:20 PM. 

You ordered a beer, took a book out of your bag, and looked around, seeing everyone busy taking photos to update their social media. Actually, almost everyone. Your eyes fixed on a man who was sitting alone a couple of tables away from you. He was wearing sunglasses and drinking white wine. The wind seemed like a paid actor gently swaying his black hair. The open buttons of his shirt revealing a bit of his tattoo added the perfect touch to make him extremely attractive. 

Yes, he was definitely the most attractive stranger you had ever seen. 

You realized you were staring at him for too long when he looked in your direction, as if he felt he was being watched. You quickly looked back at your book to hide how embarrassed you were at being caught and missed seeing the smile on his face. 

A few minutes later, when you were truly focused on the pages of your book, you felt a presence beside you and were surprised to see the man standing there, very close to you, holding his wine glass. 

“Excuse me, may I sit here?” he said with a charming smile. You just gestured towards the chair next to you, closing your book and placing it on the table. As he sat down, he asked, “Sorry, but I’m curious to know how such a beautiful woman is here alone reading a romance novel in this wonderful place.” 

You laughed at the man’s comment, then took a sip of your beer and replied. “First, thank you for the compliment.” He raised his glass as if toasting to the wind. “Second, this was the best way I found to wait for the sunset, but I guess now I’ll have to change my plans a bit.” You mimicked his gesture, making him smile. 

“Sorry for the lack of manners, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Johnny.” He extended his hand and you shook it, introducing yourself as well. “I found it interesting that you’re here and not taking photos.” He pointed to the other people who were doing just that. 

“I’ll leave the photos for later. But what about you, what brings you here?” 

Johnny explained that he was a DJ and had played at a party nearby the previous night, but wanted to stay a few more days to rest and enjoy the city. When he asked why you were traveling alone, you thought about telling him what had happened, but it was better to forget about it. 

“Let’s just say I want a fresh start. But let’s save that conversation for another time.”

“So, we’ll meet again?” Johnny said in a flirtatious tone and all you could do was laugh at his attempt to flirt with you. 

“Well, we’re staying at the same hotel, we’ll be here for a few more days, so we’ll run into each other.” 

“Perfect.” 

The conversation lasted for a while and you were surprised by the chemistry between you two. You talked about everything; Johnny shared his preference for drinking white wine during the day and red wine at night because, according to him, they matched the vibe. You said that even though you loved wine, you didn’t know much about it and preferred to drink beer on a hot day like this one. You spent the rest of the afternoon laughing, sharing some stories, and when he was about to tell you one of his travel adventures, you noticed the sun beginning to set. 

You asked him to help take some photos of you and you did the same for him. Then you both stayed there, watching the sun disappear into the vastness of the water, enjoying each other's company. 

“This is one of the most beautiful things I've seen,” you said, sighing, still with your eyes fixed on the horizon. 

“I agree, it’s really beautiful.” 

When you turned to Johnny, his eyes were fixed on you and it was the first time you looked directly into his honey-colored eyes. You felt him getting closer, your breaths mingled, and when your noses touched, reality hit and you quickly pulled away from him.

“Sorry, we just met, but I found you so interesting that—” 

“Calm down, Johnny, it’s okay. I’m not angry or anything, I’m just… not ready. I’ll explain later.” 

“Is that one of the reasons you’re here?” 

You just nodded. Then he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and gently held your chin, making you look into his eyes once more.

“It’s okay, I won’t pressure you into anything. But, would you do me the honor of having dinner with me tomorrow?” 

“Like, a date?”

“Like a date.”

You laughed again at how comfortable he made you feel. 

“Alright, I accept. That way you can properly explain to me how red wine matches the nighttime vibe.” 

It had been days since you had a great time as much as you did that afternoon. 

You were ready to start over alone, but, on second thought, it would be more fun if this new beginning happened alongside an attractive stranger during beautiful summer days.

[ingravinoveritas]

It's been just barely three days since the announcement of DJ Qualls and Ty Olsson's engagement, and after seeing the interview DJ did on a podcast where he broke the news, I am struck by the parallels between his comment above and things both Michael and David have said over the last five years about growing old together.

I can still remember when Michael first posted the tweet in the screenshot in 2019, and how much it stood out to me because of what was left unspoken. That he's thought about Aziraphale and Crowley growing old together. That he doesn't separate Aziraphale from him or Crowley from David--something we knew five years ago, and have become even more keenly aware of now--and was maybe, by extension, thinking of him growing older with David.

This only seems like it was cemented further by what we saw in the GO 2 interviews last year. Michael is again talking about Aziraphale and Crowley being old, but more specifically about him and David playing them that way. Seconds later, the idea of a theatrical tour is mentioned, and this time it's David who becomes the more vocal one. In this one entire moment, we have Michael revisiting that idea of playing the characters old, and David responding in a way that lets us know--without hesitation, without question--that he very much enjoys the thought of growing older with Michael.

So in thinking of what DJ said about Ty and how he wants to grow old with the person he loves, it just seems so incredibly similar to what Michael and David have said and are saying now. That they are going to be old men together, however that might look, in whatever form it could take. And given the incredibly positive reaction from the fans toward DJ and Ty (which Michael may have seen, since he does follow Misha Collins, who tweeted about the news), I would just like to hope that's what would be in store for Michael and David, too...

[filmflowersbangtan]

I Must Still Want You pt. 2

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: angst (so. much. angst) | smut

word count: 4k

warnings: rough sex | infidelity | explicit sex scene | I'm so sorry in advance if I make some of you angry with this one. I promise it'll get better in future chapters.

author's note: hey...I'm back. I have so much in store. I know I've said it before and then I disappeared again, but I finally left a toxic relationship that had me in a writer's rut for a very long time and I also stopped following BTS for a while. But then they all came out with their incredible solos, and V's "Layover" was so beautiful it had stirred up so many ideas. It also somehow aligns with this story so well, so I couldn't help myself. I'm really proud of this one. I put so much heart and soul into this. This is not the end of this series.

part i | part iii

----

At first, Taehyung understood. The excuses as to why you couldn’t come home for the holidays, why you couldn’t come home for his birthday, why he couldn’t come visit. Art school was difficult, adjusting to California was difficult, but making friends was easy. Making friends had always been easy for you. You and your mom were on bad terms, that’s why you couldn’t come home. You had deadlines and couldn’t afford distractions, that’s why Taehyung couldn’t come visit.

Then there were the arguments after Taehyung lost all his patience with you. And then the texts and phone calls became more and more infrequent until there were none at all. Taehyung’s calls went to voicemails, his messages echoed in a chamber of emptiness.

Months passed by like this, with Taehyung only knowing you were alive through news from your mom, whose lawn he mowed and driveway he shoveled. He sat with her sometimes for coffee. He didn’t dare going into your room again after he saw that your mother transformed it, pushing an untouched treadmill in the same corner your bed used to be.

And then, about a year after the two of you unofficially broke up, you posted on Instagram. A man was kneeling before you as you wore a stunning dress Taehyung had never see you wear before. An expensive dress. There were letters hung behind the two of you in the background. Taehyung stopped breathing. The letters read:

Will you marry me?

Still not breathing, he swiped right to see another picture of your left hand—a hand he used to hold so much he could still feel the ghost of its warmth—displaying a gaudy engagement ring encrusted with a sickening number of diamonds. The camera’s flash made them glimmer in a way that made Taehyung nauseous.

Despite everything, Taehyung had been taking the unofficial breakup well. He never said anything about it to your mother although he desperately wanted to understand why you stopped talking to him or know if she knew. He didn’t rot in bed. He didn’t stop photography. While you had been gone, he discovered a newfound love of singing and his roommate Jungkook was a small-time producer and part-time DJ, and through him Taehyung had virtually unlimited access to a studio. Instead of succumbing into a debilitating depression, Taehyung worked on his very first EP. He had finished a few days before the Instagram post. He was going to send it to you. He knew you were going to love it. Maybe it would even make you speak to him.

But the post.

Taehyung dropped his phone on his bed and steadily walked to the bathroom, breathing through his nose. An ugly surge of emotion ravished him. He thought he was going to cry, but when he closed the door behind him, he stumbled to the toilet. And vomited.

Jungkook rushed in, his headphones dangling from around his neck, concern stretched across his face. “Bro, you good? It sounds like you’re dying.”

Taehyung wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. His eyes and throat burned. Thick snot crept down his lips. He wasn’t going to cry, but seeing Jungkook standing there pummeled him. His dear friend who didn’t even know Taehyung had been going through a breakup. How was he going to explain this? He couldn’t. He dropped his head back into the toilet bowl and heaved.

Later, after Taehyung cleaned himself up and Jungkook sat him down on the couch with a cup of water, he told Jungkook everything.

Jungkook had been quiet the entire time, nodding to let Taehyung know that he was listening. But when Taehyung finished, gesturing to his phone because he couldn’t speak the words “she’s engaged,” Jungkook looked at the post himself.

A brief and subtle expression flickered across his face as he swiped. It was there and then it was gone, only noticeable in the slight tremble in the eyebrows and the momentary clench of the jaw. He looked up at Taehyung whose eyes were rimmed in red and whose hands were quivering as he dabbed at his nose with a napkin.

With a venom that Taehyung did not know his roommate possessed, Jungkook said, “That bitch.”

--

After grieving for a month, Taehyung pulled himself out of bed. He went to a party where Jungkook was DJing and downed shot after shot of anything anyone would hand him. He blacked out and woke up in his own bed wearing the same sweaty clothes from the night before, feeling like hell. He looked at his text messages to make sure that he didn’t say anything fucked up to anyone and noticed your contact at the top.

Of course, he reached out to you. How embarrassing. He cringed, afraid to read what he said, but all he sent was a link to his EP. Somehow, that was worse. He absolutely wanted to die.

And of course, you didn’t respond.

--

A year stuttered by. Sometimes when Taehyung looked in the mirror, he didn’t recognize himself. He was dirty blond now and handsome and miserable. He had slept with so many people in the last few months—girls, mostly but sometimes guys, too. He had had so many threesomes that he’d lost count. People on campus knew who he was now. He had gone from having one friend in his first year of college to becoming a name that people sighed dreamily as they said it.

Still nothing from you.

And then, one morning while nursing a hangover at the dining table in his shared apartment with Jungkook, a text from your mom. Maybe he was reading into it, but there was a tone of sadness in the wording, possibly regret. It said:

Y/N is back in town. Her grandmother died last week and the funeral is Friday. Please come if you feel comfortable. If you don’t, I understand.

There it was again. That roiling sensation inside of him. That urgent need to vomit.

The first time he had a threesome with Jungkook, he couldn’t perform. He had fumbled to the bathroom, his pants undone, and hurled into the toilet until the girl left. He had thought Jungkook would be pissed, but instead he sat on the bathroom floor with him in silence.

Now, Jungkook paused, a spoonful of cereal and milk halfway to his mouth. “I know that look,” he said. “What happened?”

Taehyung cleared his throat. “Y/N’s grandmother died.”

Jungkook wrinkled his nose. “So? Fuck her and her grandma.”

In other circumstances, Taehyung would've laughed. He couldn’t. He was too numb. “I liked her grandma when we were little. She used to make homemade blackberry jam and watch our stupid choreographies that we made up.”

Jungkook’s expression softened. He lowered the spoon. “I take that back about the grandma, but still fuck that bitch. Y/N, not the grandma.”

Now Taehyung mustered up a halfhearted chuckle that could’ve been a genuine laugh had the thought of you being in town—not in California—not robbed him of any sense of humor.

Jungkook hated seeing Taehyung like this because there was nothing he could do to help. “Don’t go to that funeral,” was all he said. It wasn’t a command. His voice was pleading. “Seeing her will only fuck you up. And what if she’s with—”

Taehyung closed his eyes as if expecting a blow. He hadn’t realized he was crying until warm teardrops slid down his face and into his mouth.

--

He went to the funeral. Your parents embraced him when they saw him. Individually, of course. Your dad remarried. He had stepchildren. Taehyung thought you probably hated it if you even still talked to him. The idea of someone else being frozen out of your life and not just him slightly comforted him. Slightly.

It was a beautiful day out—early summer, bright blue sky, cool breeze—but Taehyung was cold. And you hadn’t arrived yet.

“She slept in,” your mother said. “She hadn’t been feeling the best ever since she landed yesterday. She should arrive soon.”

An Uber arrived, and the back door opened. Taehyung held his breath.

You stepped out. You were so familiar yet you were a stranger. Your hair was longer, fuller. You were wearing a form-fitting black dress and red-bottomed heels. A designer bag dangled from the crook of your elbow. Large, expensive sunglasses obscured your eyes. Your lips were painted red.

The Uber departed before Taehyung realized you came alone.

You sauntered in his direction. He was breathless as he watched you move. Did you always walk like that? With such an elegant sway? Or was that new? A by-product of your reinvented life.

He realized that he was not your target. He was standing with your parents and your stepmother you probably hated. Except you didn’t hate her because she was the first you hugged. Then your dad. Then your mother. Then—

“Tae.”

He blinked. He could hear the blood rushing through his ears. Feel the bile rising in his throat. He cleared it behind a polite fist before croaking your name in return.

Then, very cautiously, you pulled him into a hug. He felt everyone’s eyes on the both of you. You were making him into a spectacle, and he hated it. In that moment, he realized he hated you. But his arms were stiff at his sides and when he became aware of that, he lifted them to pat you on the back.

“I know how much you loved her,” you said when you released him.

He blinked, not understanding. “I’m sorry, what?”

“My grandmother.”

His face felt hot. Jungkook was right. He shouldn’t have come. He had never once wanted to hurt a woman before, especially not you. But he wanted so badly to strangle you. To make you feel what it’s like to have your throat full of heartbreak. But he pushed a smile onto his red face. “Yes. My condolences.”

“Thank you for coming,” you said.

I hate you.

Taehyung nodded, and without meaning to, glimpsed at your left hand. The ring was still there. You were still engaged. But you returned home without a fiancé.

I hate you.

--

After the funeral, there was a gathering at your dad and stepmom’s house. Taehyung wasn’t going to go, but he couldn’t bring himself not to. He wanted to keep looking at you, breathing the same air as you, and wondering if you had listened to his EP.

But for the most part, he was just wandering around the beautiful countryside home as awkwardly as he had been at the party in middle school where he had first seen you kissing a boy on the porch. Except this time, you were getting married. You were getting fucking married.

At least at a funeral it wasn’t odd to cry. He went outside to do it.

He sat on the front porch steps and loosened his tie. No one came out to bother him. He was good at being invisible. Especially to you.

The front door behind him opened. The sound of heels approached him but stopped a few paces away.

Neither of you said anything. He quietly wiped away angry tears.

“I don’t expect forgiveness,” you said.

He wanted to scream. “Not here. Please.”

“I booked a hotel. Let’s talk at the bar there. You look like you could use a drink.”

Taehyung closed his eyes. “Was that a joke?”

“Yes. But I could use a drink, too.”

Taehyung dropped his head in his hands. “I shouldn’t have come.” He stood up and walked to his car. You didn’t follow. Didn’t beg. He grabbed the handle of the driver’s side door and looked at you from over the roof of the car. You were still standing on the porch, your hands delicately interlaced in front of you. You weren’t wearing your sunglasses, but he couldn’t see your eyes from where he stood.

Who were you?

He yanked the door open and got in the car. His phone vibrated when he started the ignition. You had sent him a text with an address and a time.

“Fuck you,” he whispered. “Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you.”

--

He arrived thirty minutes late. You were sipping a purple-colored cocktail at a secluded table. God, you looked so good. He hated it.

“I would’ve understood if you hadn’t showed,” you said, expressionless.

He hesitated before sitting down, considering leaving. When he did sit, you said, “I really like your hair. It complements your skin tone.”

“Fuck you,” he said.

“I deserve that.”

“Fuck you.”

“What are you drinking nowadays? It’s on me.”

The bile was threatening to choke him. He swallowed thickly. His voice trembled as he said, “What do you want from me? You don’t fucking care about me. All you care about it—I don’t know what you care about. You’re such a—”

A drink appeared before him. “I already ordered for you. I hope you don’t mind whiskey. It’s top shelf so you most likely won’t have a hangover.”

“I don’t want—”

“I listened to it.”

Taehyung stopped.

“It was beautiful. It was so fucking beautiful. When do you sing? And like that? Oh, my God.”

Now Taehyung was crying again. He downed his drink. You gestured something to the waitress and another whiskey appeared before him. Taehyung said, “Why are you doing this to me? What have I done to deserve this?”

You touched his hand. He flinched away as if burned. “I dropped out of college a couple of years ago. I was homeless. And then I met a guy who fixed all of that.”

“Such bullshit.” But Taehyung knew you were genuine. You were never a liar.

“Not bullshit,” you said gently. “I was embarrassed. Who flunks art school? But I was intimidated being surrounded by all of those freakishly talented people. I didn’t fit in. But you would’ve sure as hell did. Your photos, Tae—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I’m sorry.” You took a sip of your drink and looked away before continuing, “You are so talented. And then that fucking album—”

“EP.”

You glared at him. “Now it is my turn to say fuck you.”

“Get to the point.”

“I wasn’t measuring up. I dropped out before I got expelled. Mom wanted me to come home, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. I love California. I slept on some friends’ couches for a few months, working odd jobs—bartending, dogwalking, commission stuff. I had no idea what I was doing or where I was going.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” “I was embarrassed, Tae. And then you kept pestering me about wanting to see me and—”

“Pestering? You think so lowly of me?” “That’s what it felt like at the time. I had so much going on in my head—”

“But not so much that you still had room to go and fuck someone else before even breaking up with me.”

You finished your drink. “I didn’t fuck anyone.”

Taehyung had no response.

“I met a guy while bartending. He was rich. And kind. And I was very poor and lonely.”

“And he swept you off your feet," he said with betrayal in his voice.

“No. But his tips were nice. They were big enough to feed me for a couple of weeks. And then he would take me out to dinners. Next thing I know he’s buying me an apartment and a car and a dog and a life.”

Taehyung’s eyes were wet with fresh tears. He couldn’t look at you. “I wanted a life with you. I could’ve helped you.”

“With what money, Taehyung? All you would’ve done was spend way too much money on a one-way ticket and be stuck there with me.”

He had nothing to say to that. He downed his drink. “That doesn’t explain not telling me a fucking thing. Not even a goodbye.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Do you love him?”

You sighed.

Taehyung clenched his hands into fists under the table. He repeated, “Do you love him?”

Another purple drink appeared in front of you. The waitress flitted away, sensing the tension.

Finally, you said, “I think I could learn to. Someday.”

He blew out the breath he’d been holding and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked out the window at the pool. So still, so blue. So beautiful. He thought of California. He thought of the song on his EP, “For Us.” He wanted to fucking drown you.

In a soft, broken voice, he said, “I have loved you for my entire life. My entire life. Just wasted.”

You didn’t say anything. You just simply stared out the window with him. And then for the first time that entire day, you began to sob.

He didn’t dare look at you. He didn’t want to empathize with you. What for? But hearing you cry silently, seeing your shoulders shake with each sob in his peripheral vision…

Before he could say anything, you were already cleaning yourself up, dabbing under your eyes with a neatly folded napkin. “Should we go up to my suite for some privacy? I fucking hate crying in public.”

--

The suite was gorgeous. He didn’t know something so extravagant existed in his hometown.

“I need to get out of this dress. It’s not really my style,” you said, delicately removing your heels.

Taehyung looked away. For some reason, seeing you do that simple action made his heart ache.

You disappeared into the bathroom after telling him to make himself comfortable. He instead opted to stand around, unsure of what to do with his hands. Then you called his name from the other room, needing help with the dress.

“The zipper,” you said. “It was hell putting this thing on by myself. Can you unzip it for me?”

The bathroom was all marble and glass. Taehyung felt like there were a dozen versions of the both of you reflected around him. You were trying to catch his eyes in the mirror, but he purposefully avoided you. He focused on keeping his hands still as he stood behind you and reached up to grasp the tiny zipper at the nape of your neck.

The sound of the dress unzipping made his dick throb as longingly as his heart. You were fucking with him. You had to be.

But he wasn’t the same Taehyung that you left behind at the airport. Not at all. He was going to show you.

The zipper ended right at the top of your tailbone. You let the dress fall to the floor.

“You said you didn’t fuck anyone?” Taehyung said, voice gruff with want. He could feel himself hardening.

You were breathing slightly faster. You wanted him, too. This time, he allowed your gaze to meet each other’s in the mirror. You said, “Just myself. I never let him touch me, Tae. I don’t love him.”

He ran his hand up your leg, up your ass, traced the line of your back with a steady finger. He was no longer nervous. Fucking was what he was good at. And he wanted to fuck you until you regretted ever leaving him. Until you rued the day you said yes to that stupid fucking engagement.

He stopped his hand at the base of your neck. You stood still, breath shallow. Waiting. Wanting. You were probably so wet for him already, but you would have to wait.

He pressed himself against you so that you could feel how hard he was for you. A moan stuttered out of your throat. He clenched your neck from behind and shoved you forward, bending you over the sink. With swift fingers, he undid his belt, lowered his pants, pushed down his briefs. His cock sprang free, swollen with a two year long need for you, beaded with precum.

You shimmied out your underwear. With two fingers, he felt the velvety skin of your pussy lips. He was right, you were so fucking wet for him. You arched your back and shivered at his touch.

Your eyes met in the mirror again. Yours were heavy-lidded with desire, lips red like Marilyn Monroe. He wanted that lipstick smeared all over your face and all over his cock when he was done with you. His own eyes were low lidded as well. He grinned at you before he entered you. He didn’t want to take it slow, and he didn’t.

He fucked you like you were water, and he hadn’t drunk anything in days. You were a mess, clawing at the marble countertop like it would give you stability. Your moans were so fucking hot. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back so that his lips were at your ear.

“You’re mine, do you hear me? This pussy is mine.”

You tried to say “Yes, daddy,” but your eyes were fluttering and rolling and Taehyung was fucking you so good you couldn’t get a word out. He slapped your ass and you gasped.

“Fuck you,” he said but he didn’t mean it. He didn’t mean it at all.

He felt himself getting carried away and pulled out. You squirmed at the lack of him, begging for more. He didn’t want to admit he almost came. Sex hadn’t felt this good in years. Both of you were breathless, filling the room with your panting. But he wasn’t done with you yet. And you knew. You smiled at him, big and beautiful, and Taehyung almost came right then and there.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said.

Your pupils were dilated, your face was glimmering with sweat, your hair was a mess. You were so beautiful Taehyung wanted to fucking cry.

And then he was. “Fuck you,” he said, but he meant it this time.

You unclasped your bra and dropped it to the floor. Then you were on your knees before him, using that expensive dress as a cushion against the marble. You took all of him in your mouth, slowly, never losing eye contact. Your mouth was warm and wet and your breasts looked amazing, the nipples hard. You noticed him looking and pinched the nipple of your left breast as you sucked him off, using your right hand to jerk him in and out of your mouth. You were an expert with your tongue, paying close attention to the head of his cock. And then when he felt the back of your throat, he squeezed his eyes shut and grasped a handful of your hair again, this time to keep himself steady.

“Ah, fuck,” he whimpered. “Where? Where do you want me to cum?” He made the mistake of looking at you again, your mouth smeared crime-scene red.

You smiled at him like a good girl, like you didn’t have a spit stretching from your lips to his cock like party streamers. “On my face,” you said.

He didn’t hesitate.

When he finished convulsing the final streams of cum onto your pretty face, he stood there, face flushed and veins straining from his neck as reality crept back into his bones like a winter’s chill. He was disgusted with himself. He was angry with you.

“You’re fucking engaged,” he said, cleaning himself up. “Oh fuck. I’m such a fucking idiot.” He hastily threw on his clothes. Ran his hands through his hair to look somewhat presentable and not like he just face fucked someone’s fiancé.

You were extremely calm and still extremely naked. Taehyung realized belatedly that you hadn’t come yet. Good, he thought. You don’t deserve that release.

He finished dressing as you started washing your face. He went to leave but then stopped at the door. He didn’t turn to look at you, but he said, “You’re an awful person, Y/N. I hope you know that.”

Taehyung left the bathroom and was halfway to the suite’s door when he heard you say meekly as if to yourself, “I do.”

--

[georgiapeach30513]

RE: Red One.

It’s funny how critics and people online continue to want to keep this film down, but I think it’s continuing to exceed expectations which is a good sign.

I had a feeling for a long while it was going to surprise people, given how many were complaining nonstop about Chris’s involvement.

Also, the discourse about his career choices… 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

It’s one thing if he were to sit there and complain to the media about not being able to find more serious roles or prestige movies to do.

But to my knowledge he’s never done that? I can only think of him saying years ago that his good films he feels nobody watches (true, or at least not ENOUGH people watch) but even then it wasn’t so much a complaint as a response to a question.

It seems like he is having fun and just picking what he wants to do. I’ve never heard him say “I only did this because I couldn’t get that.” He’s thrown out there he did Red One because he’s always wanted a Christmas film and there was a part for someone like him in it. Makes sense to me. And he just did three smaller scale lower profile projects with directors that are still establishing themselves. Without his and Anya’s involvement, don’t know that sacrifice would have been able to get made. I wish critics who aren’t up to date with his career move at least stop talking and wait for developments over a “hot take” for hits.

I saw a ridiculous tweet once again undermining Red One and his choices. Here’s the thing…red one was an orignal IP. It was a new story that wasn’t from an existing franchise, show, book, or sequel. Lots of people worked on that film and Amazon giving it a theatrical release also helps those who worked on the film that aren’t DJ or the rest of the cast. People who are seeing it in theaters are helping to create box office return and if films like this did well and were received well, maybe there would be more studios willing to take a chance on an original take over an existing IP.

Just because it’s a popcorn movie with silliness does not mean it’s trash and only films like Oppenheimer can be considered art.

I really despise that take and how some cinephiles look down on these films yet solely up lift Oscar bait films.

It bothers me immensely as a creative myself because in my opinion, movies are entertainment and they’re supposed to entertain you. If you and others have fun with the content and enjoy, have a good laugh, a smile, a cry, then I think the creators have done their job. Not all films need to be awards worthy, and art is subjective.

Ahh, the discourse on Chris' career is a tale as old as time at this moment. According to some he will never be good enough or rise to his potential. According to some he is a washed up has been, and yet they can't seem to quit him. I think that makes him a bit more powerful than they want him to be. But alas, we're all free to spend our time how we see fit.

It's funny because I don't think some people realize the roles that he was considered for, the roles he turned down, the roles that he was wanted for. Back when Running Man was in talks, he was top of the list as the lead, and we see that he wanted Sacrifice instead. I think that was a better choice, because quite frankly I'm getting fatigued at all the remakes, but some people want to make their career out of remakes. To each their own.

Unfortunately Chris outside of the MCU has never been quite as a box office draw. A lot of his movies, well most, are on a smaller scale. I think people are looking at his last three movies; Ghosted, Pain Hustlers, and Red One, and immediately jumping on a hate bandwagon. Let's break this down, Ghosted was a small movie, and judging by the synopsis I think we got what we were promised. I think that Dex, Chris, and Ana all were making different movies.

Pain Hustlers will mostly be forgotten. It was part of the opiate epidemic movies that became oversaturated. It didn't have any promotion, and compared to the other projects in the opiate crisis genre, it wasn't that great. I still will die on the hill that his performance was solid, and the best in the movie. Emily was oddly terrible.

Red One I think surprised a lot of people. Nobody expected it to be as fun or as good as it ended up being. Due to the strike, Chris didn't get to really film last year, minus the Deadpool movie. Had R1 not be released a year late, he would have only had Deadpool for this year. Starting next year we're going to have another surge of his projects, and they all seem different, so maybe people should just be patient.

The average movie goer wants to be entertained. That's why popcorn flicks make more money than the award movies. now sometimes you can have both. But anyways.

[reasonsmandy]

Love Me Again

Warren Rojas x Fem!Reader

✧.* you're reading part two of — Love Alone

✧.* collab — @dj-ts

✧.* summary — They say nothing heals like time, but what do we do when that time is not enough to deal with your wounds? What do we do when we are not talking about a wound but a mark, a scar that was shaped by passion, desire and love? You thought that time would make you forget him, but there are things that are impossible to erase. And Warren Rojas, for sure, was one of those.

✧.* warnings — Nothing too drastic, read on and find out. (I believe that anything I put here will be a spoiler)

✧.* word count — 8.5k

✧.* 🥁 — Warren's masterlist

✧.* mandy's notes — I was so excited for you guys to read this, I really hope you like it. Special thanks to @dj-ts who wrote this masterpiece with me, thank you so much 🫶🏾. And as always, good reading.

The hours passed slowly, you were almost being devoured by the anxiety that was growing in your chest, you watched the clock on the wall anxiously waiting and waiting in frustration. Your foot couldn't stop tapping against the floor, your hands were sweating and your heart was beating so fast it could leap out of your chest at any moment.

You couldn't wait any longer, and gathering all the courage that was left in you, you got up. Without further ado, you put everything you needed in your bag and decide to walk to Camila's house, if you held that secret any longer you could explode for sure.

The way there, despite not being so long, seemed to take forever. You felt a huge tightness in your chest that wouldn't go away for nothing, you were scared... Very scared. You weren't expecting any of this, everything was going as smoothly as planned, the band had released a song that had blown up all over the country, the label had taken them back and Warren looked happier than ever, you loved seeing him like this and you had no idea what this news would do... How it would be received or how you yourself would deal with it.

You take a deep breath staring at your best friend's door, hoping she would be there to help you. You knock on the door, staring at your feet trying to regulate your breathing, you can hear someone's footsteps approaching and soon the doorknob turns opening the door. As soon as you see the brunette the tears you refused to let out, invade your face.

"Y/N darling, what are you doing here so early?" Camila had her hair tied up in a bun, Julia was sleeping peacefully in a crib behind her, she still hadn't looked at you and when she did and saw tears in your eyes, her eyes widened. "Baby what's going on? Come in."

The woman sits you down on the couch in the living room, crouching down in front of you, waiting for you to calm down. She caresses your knees trying to comfort you, trying to understand what had happened.

"Y/N I don't mean to rush you, but you're scaring me." She whispers after a few minutes.

"I'm pregnant Cami." You say and she sighs, in fact it wasn't something she expected.

Camila leaving the floor sits beside you, hugging you tightly, you stayed like that for a long time until you calmed down. She breaks the hug, looking deep into your eyes. She was scared but she knew her feelings didn't compare to yours, there was something different between her situation with Billy and yours with Warren.

Deep down she knew that she and Billy would make it work, she had confidence in their love and in what they had been building for so many years. But between you and Warren everything seemed so uncertain, at least from Camila's point of view, your relationship seemed to be sustained on the sands of a beach prone to strangely unpredictable tides.

And with that in mind, Camila feared what this child could mean, and not only for them on this journey of being parents, but also how this child would deal with this constant instability in their lives.

"And what do you want to do?" She takes your hands, trying to reassure you. "I'm here to help you with any decision."

"I want to keep it." You couldn't stop crying, tears fell down your face involuntarily. "But I'm so scared of what he would think… We never talked about this before."

You feel a lump forming in your throat as you realize the magnitude of the situation. What if Warren doesn't want the baby? What if he leaves you? You had always been so sure of your feelings towards him, but now everything feels uncertain.

You take a deep breath and try to shake off the thoughts that have been haunting you for so long. The gaps in your relationship with Warren seem to be widening with each passing day. It's as if you're standing on the edge of a precipice, staring down at the dark unknown below, and you can't help but wonder if you're about to lose the love of your life.

Those memories of unrequited love come flooding back, reminding you of all the moments that still haunt you to this day. You remember the way he never said he loved you back, or the way he always pushed you away when things got too close. You can't help but wonder if he'll react the same way to this unexpected news, and the thought alone sends shivers down your spine.

You asked Camila for some time to think, you said that you would stay there in the backyard smoking alone and obviously your friend did not invade your space, making it clear that if you needed it, just call.

As you watched the sky, the tightness in your chest increased, you were in front of something so unknown that it scared you, nothing in your moment brought you a firmament, quite the contrary. But at the same time that the tide of insecure thoughts was taking over you, a breach of warm and crystalline waters showed you a little bit of hope.

You would hear Julia's laughter at one time or another, and when you took your eyes to them you could see the little girl laughing and playing with her mother's hair, your heart racing at the thought of your future child, what would it be like to be a mother? What would the face of your great love's creation look like? You thought of the way your baby's hair could be curled like his father's, the thought of having a child like him filled your heart with joy.

You were afraid, but fear was not enough to quell your longing for this baby, the longing you had for a family by Warren's side. You imagined the way he could be a great father, how he would teach the child to play the drums with the greatest pride in the world, how he would be proud of every achievement of the baby. You knew Warren, he was the most eccentric person you knew and you had no other image of him as a father.

After spending a few hours with Camila, you feel a sense of calm wash over you. She tells you about her own experiences with motherhood and how it has changed her life for the better. As you prepare to leave, you feel ready to face Warren and share the news with him, even though the little voice inside your head told you that something was going to change and not in a good way.

As you walk back home to Laurel Canyon, your mind races with excitement and anticipation. You can't wait to tell Warren and start planning your future together as a family. You tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach that showed your anxiety, but the more you ignored the more they flew and messed with your cognition.

Despite these doubts, you push them away, determined to believe that everything will work out. But little did you know that the night ahead would be one of the most challenging of your life, and that your hopes and dreams for the future would soon come crashing down.

And every time you visited the memories of that day you regretted not listening to that little voice.

…

One year later

Eddie Roundtree: After she left… Warren was different.

Karen Sirko: He was out of control, at least.

Camila Dunne: I still kept in touch with Y/N for sure! She was my best friend and it wasn't a stupid move by Warren that was going to keep me away from her. But if I'm honest with you he had become someone else when she was gone.

Interviewer: Did you tell him what she told you?

Camila Dunne: *sighs* She asked me not to, I was not in my place to say anything.

Warren Rojas: When she left I... I didn't know what to do, I thought that I would finally have my freedom and that now I could live without owing anyone anything. But her absence left me with more withdrawal than any addict.

Your absence was something nothing and no one could prepare Warren for, he didn't know that losing the woman who was always by his side was going to be so agonizing and torturous, he pretended not to miss you. He hid the frustration that built in his chest every day he woke up and didn't feel you next to him in bed, he tried to ignore the tears that formed every time he remembered the nights you spent hours talking so he could help you with your sleeping problems, he tried to fill the void that your absence left in his chest in all the simple moments of his day, but it was all in vain.

He had lost count of how many women he had been with trying to forget you, imagining that would be what would fill the infinite abyss in his chest. He imagined your lips in place of hers, your hands running through the curly strands of his hair, he imagined your hands providing him that pleasure, nothing compared to having you actually there. Nothing worked, he tried all kinds of things but everyday when he woke up the feeling was still there, like it was taking your place.

As Warren tried to move on from the pain of losing you, he found himself drawn to other women, hoping to fill the void that had been left in his heart. But with every date, every kiss, every attempt at starting something new, he couldn't help but feel like he was betraying the memory of the one person who truly understood him. The only person who made him feel that way, nothing else fit the void you left.

Even though you were no longer together, his heart still belonged to you, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he had made a terrible mistake in letting you go.

It wasn't until you were gone that he realized how much he truly loved you, and now he was left with the regret of his actions and the painful realization that he may never find someone who could fill the void you left behind.

He was laying in bed, the soft sheets crumpled beneath him as he stared up at the ceiling, willing the tears to stop flowing down his face. But the memories of you were too vivid, too overwhelming. He could almost feel the warmth of your body next to his, the way your hand would intertwine with his in the darkness.

He could hear the sound of your laughter echoing in the room, as fresh and joyous as the first time he heard it, he could picture perfectly the way you whimpered under his touch every night when he was making you his, that room held all the most intimate and cherished moments between you two and although he knew that being there was like poke his wound he couldn't leave it behind the only thing that held you - or the memories of you at least - with him.

He remembered the way you would always eat breakfast in the morning together, the smell of the brewing beans filling the room and chasing away the last remnants of sleep. And now, as he lay there alone, he realized that he would never experience those moments again. The pain was like a knife twisting in his chest, sharp and unrelenting, and he needed it to stop. He needed to feel you again, holding you close to him again.

He didn't sleep that night, the cool air from the open window seeping into his bones as he tossed and turned. Despite trying to quiet his thoughts, he couldn't get rid of the image of what he missed so much: a life by your side. A few months after you left, he began to notice that none of the things he achieved or wanted to enjoy were as fun without you there. Little by little, when all the adrenaline from the drugs and shows passed, he felt that tightness in his chest again. And as the months went by, he realized that you were indeed the woman he loved, that he wanted to be close to, that he wanted to call his own and that he wanted to be... And he had let you go.

As soon as he noticed the morning taking over the sky, he got up. The hardwood floors creaked under his feet as he made his way to the kitchen, where the smell of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon lingered in the air. Rojas didn't talk to anyone as he walked through the kitchen, his friends probably noticing the brooding look on his face. He didn't take long to grab the keys to his van and head to Billy and Camila's house. He couldn't do it anymore... He needed to have you back.

As he drove through the streets, he watched the city waking up, the stores opening, people leaving their homes to go to their jobs, families taking their children to school, seniors walking their pets. The world around him was alive and moving forward, but he felt stuck in the past, as if with your departure a pause had held him back in that moment where he was crying, sitting on your bed, staring at your empty closet. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, casting a warm glow over everything it touched, but to Rojas, the world was gray and lifeless without you by his side.

Warren knocked desperately on the door without stopping, he didn't think that maybe he could wake up Julia or Billy and Camila, he just urgently needed that address, he needed to know where you were.

"Jeez, I'm going!" He heard Camila's weak voice on the other side of the wooden object.

She opens the door with Julia in her lap, she frowns, wondering why the drummer is at her door so early.

"Warren?" She was interrupted by the drummer entering the house, and as soon as he passed she closed the door. "Is everything okay?"

"No Cami." He answers her in spanish, turning to her with tears in his eyes. "I don't know what to do…"

Camila leaves Júlia in the crib she had in the living room, inviting Warren to sit with her on the couch.

"What's going on?" She asks, concerned in her eyes.

"I need to see her, Cami." Warren looked exhausted, as if all of his energy had drained out of his body. "I can't fucking sleep, I can't eat, I can't do anything without her! I can't stand being away from her anymore…"

"Warren…" She feels her heart ache, he looked really messed up. "You really fucked up."

"I know Cami, I know that I was a fucking asshole and you have no idea how much I regret it." He ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

"She's fine Warren, I don't want you to hurt her again." Camila says sincerely.

"Camila I don't know how to live without her." Warren had tears in his eyes. "Believe me I tried, but every time I tried to be with someone else... I don't know, it felt wrong, like I was cheating on her."

"And why did it take you so long to realize that?" Camila had a calm voice, as if trying to understand if what he said was true.

"Because I'm an idiot, I didn't realize how important she is to me until she left." He confesses, trying to organize the thoughts that have been plaguing him. "I miss her, every detail... The way she loved to talk me to sleep, the way I could tell her about anything she would make it sound interesting, the way she smiled every time I called her doll… I miss the way she would call my name while I-"

Camila stops him. "Okay okay, no need so many details."

"What I mean to say is that I'm empty without her, I can't keep going without her Cami." He played nervously with the rings on his hands.

"I can't Warren, I'm sorry." The brunette said, avoiding looking at him. "It is complicated…"

"I know it's complicated! I'm living this complicated moment since the love of my fucking life left me." Warren exploded in frustration. "Come on Cami, don't you love Billy?" Camila nods slowly, trying to understand what he means. "Then you know what I'm talking about, she's the air I breathe, and you're the only one who can help me."

"Look, she's not the same anymore… Do you understand that?" With every word she said, Warren grew more confused. "I mean that she isn't under the same circumstances as a year ago, she's not alone Warren. And you should know that entering her life again means risking a lot for her."

Warren feels his chest tighten, what he feared maybe was happening, you got over it and were happy without him. He loved seeing that beautiful smile on your face, but he knew he wasn't ready to not be the reason for that smile.

"You mean that…" He doesn't find the courage to say what he was thinking. "Look, I just need to talk to her, and for once be honest about everything. Please Cami."

"I swear to God Warren if you do anything to her, I'll fucking kill you!" She gives him the address. "Please, don't fuck this up"

…

20 minutes later

You struggled to keep your eyes open, your daughter hadn't let you sleep all night, she was a little sick and was demanding a lot from you. So, after spending a sleepless night next to her, you had just put the baby to sleep when a knock on the door filled the house with noise.

“Fuck, shut up, shut up, shut up,” you muttered to yourself hoping that your baby wouldn’t wake up because of the sound. Once you were down the stairs you said “Coming!” in hopes that whoever it was wouldn’t knock again.

Then you opened the door. Never expecting what your eyes would find, Warren was there looking as tired as you, but probably for different reasons. His hands were in his pockets and he was rocking back and forth nervously, you had imagined this moment many times before but experiencing it was a completely different thing.

For some reason you believed your eyes were deceiving you somehow, you stared at that face you've admired so many times before with curiosity and at the same time reluctance. He opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off.

“Warren?” you asked breathless.

He looked at you with his big puppy eyes, he was a little out of breath from the rush of it all, the nervousness of the whole situation, the rush of going to Camila's house to get here to see you without even processing the information taking over him, now that he finally stopped to breathe.

You hadn’t seen him in a year but he looked the same, the characteristic mustache on his face accentuated his beauty, the curls fell over his face in a relaxed way just as you remembered. He looked like the Warren you loved way back when, the man that made your heart beat faster, the love of your life.

“What are you doing here—” you started but were, characteristically, cut off by the ever impatient man standing in front of you.

“I love you,” he stated, his voice unwavering. His eyes were teary and hearing those words that you've waited so long for so many years was like finally breathing after a swim.

Your surprised look was evident, your racing heart was beating so hard that you felt it would jump out of your chest, the emotion was so strong that words would not come out. Should you believe him?

“Warren, I-” You start to say, your voice shaky evident. "I don't know if it's a great time for this conversation."

You try to ignore the tightness that grows in your chest, avoiding looking into his eyes as much as possible, you knew that if you looked a little longer at that paradise you would surrender. You tried to obey your instincts and close the door in his face, close any loophole that would leave an outlet for him to hurt you or hurt your daughter, but something inside you wouldn't allow it.

Warren slowly approaches you, noticing your hands gripping the door tightly, he brings his hand to yours, touching it gently as if he is gradually noticing how far he can go with you. Feeling his touch on you was like an electric shock, a surge of life in a dead body, it was like a guide to what you called and recognized as home.

Your eyes went to his hand over yours, the lump in your throat grew and the urge to cry came, why did everything have to be so intense with him? You wanted to let him in, that much was obvious, but there was so much at stake…you had gotten used to getting along without him.

"Warren, this is not a good time." You repeat, trying to sound more firm in your decision this time.

He smiles a little, averting his gaze downwards. “Y/N, listen to me, Please…"

Before you could say anything, the cry of your baby girl answered for you. She had woken from the commotion downstairs. The declarations of love, the tension… maybe she knew it was her father. Maybe she knew it was time.

You feel your entire body go cold, your legs weaken and your knees tremble threatening to give out. You close your eyes hoping that this is all a nightmare, obviously it wasn't your little one's fault, but it was surprising how she had chosen the worst moment to cry.

Warren glanced up the stairs where the cry came from and looked back at you in utter shock. People always thought him the airhead of the group but you knew just by looking at him that he caught on immediately what was going on. His face was pale, he seemed to be thinking a thousand things at the same time and he was actually thinking, trying to understand if he had heard correctly, but the continuation of the baby's cry leaves no room for any further doubt.

“Wh- Y/n… When Camila said you weren’t alone, I thought she meant… Well, I thought she meant you were dating someone or married or something, I didn’t think… You have a baby?” Warren thought out loud, it was hard to organize his jumbled thoughts.

You squint in frustration, sighing heavily, you feel trapped. “You have one too. We have one.. a baby, I mean” You responded, ripping off the bandaid once and for all.

For minutes his world changes, it was as if everything around him froze and your words constantly reverberated in his mind, a baby... He had a child. "It 's mine?” Warren asked, still choked with the information.

His eyes seemed to sparkle, and you can't help the smile that breaks out on your face, “She’s yours, yes."

He sighs, feeling and processing everything he had just heard, he had a daughter, and he had spent all this time away from her... His chest tightens at the thought of the lost moments, the consequences of his bad choices.

You observe his frustrated expression, trying to decipher what to do from then on, he already knew everything, nothing fairer than letting him meet his daughter, right? Your wounded heart had the tendency to protect your girl from him, not to let her suffer the same way you suffered through her father's attitudes, but she had to make that choice, not you for her.

“Would you like to meet her?” you ask, opening the door slightly.

“I don’t want to intrude, I mean obviously there’s a reason you didn’t tell me,” He whispered, still shocked by the revelation

“Warren, please. She’s your kid, of course you can meet her,” You answered, deliberately ignoring the fact that you didn’t tell him. You open the door wider and let him in. “Her room is just upstairs.”

Warren flashes a grateful smile, as if he knows he's being given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Stepping on eggshells, he approaches you, entering the house.

You guide him up the stairs, he observes your cozy home, the frames with pictures of you with family members he knew very well, others with friends he had in common with you, others with some people that he didn't know. He stops on a step, looking at a picture of you pregnant, he feels his chest tighten and you just notice him stop out of nowhere, and turns around to understand what happened.

"You look stunning." He says, almost in a whisper.

You look fondly at the image, you never thought to have him looking at it one day. "She didn't want to be born at all, I was about to explode." You say with a laugh, remembering the circumstances in which the photo was taken.

Your belly was huge, you were wearing a flowery dress lying on a sofa, a doll on top of your belly and a genuine smile on your face.

You don't continue the story, you just keep going up the stairs, he accompanies you.

Warren shakily made his way towards you. He was shaking so he grabbed the railing of the stairs, his knuckles going white. You pretended not to notice. Or maybe you just didn’t notice, you had your own nerves to worry about.

Your nerves were a live-wire but you knew it was only an opportunity. You didn’t let him in on the pregnancy, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t get the choice of being a father to his child. That didn’t mean the baby should grow up without a father entirely. You were wary, of course you were wary, but you had to think for the both of you— rationally.

He had hurt you so much that night, the pain of a broken heart wasn't easy to deal with, and carrying his daughter was a constant reminder of the love that could work. But besides that, your girl had shown you that what you felt for Warren wasn't crazy, that from the beginning back in Pittsburgh things had a purpose because they would lead you here, where you would hold your little girl in your arms for the first time and feel complete.

Giving Warren access to something so protected by you was difficult, you were so afraid of what it would unleash. You stop at her bedroom door, gripping the doorknob with all the strength you have in you, before opening it, you turn to him.

"You know this is a once in a lifetime chance, don't you?" The fear in your eyes was evident, and he understood that. "Please Rojas, don't fuck this up."

He doesn't say anything, and you don't waste any more time, opening the door to the crying baby’s nursery. You didn’t even wait for him to walk in; you went straight to the kid and tried to calm her down. You wanted somewhere to put your arms so Warren couldn’t see you shaking. He wouldn’t have minded but you didn’t care.

You wouldn't let him see you vulnerable, not now.

You nap the little one on your lap and when she finally calms down you notice the man approaching you slowly, as if he didn't know how to deal with this situation. The little girl had her eyes closed, her curly black hair was disheveled, probably due to the nap she just had.

You kiss her forehead, still holding her close to your chest, reassuring the baby in your arms. You take your gaze to the man huddled in the room, indicating with your head for him to approach.

Rojas takes light steps towards you, watching the baby in your lap, feeling his heart racing in his chest. When he finally comes to you and looks at the baby's face he feels complete, she was sleeping peacefully the curls on her head were messy, black strands similar to her father's, her nose was identical to yours and Warren doesn't stop smiling when he notices such a detail, she was the perfect combination of the two of you, the result of what the universe always wanted for you.

“Holy shit,” Warren said, his voice shaky and eyes watery, “She’s so cute. Like little raviolis put together to make a little baby,” he chuckled.

You laughed at that and realized exactly how much you truly missed him. Your laughter fills his ears like a tune from a perfect symphony, he feels the butterflies in his stomach wake up and dance to the effect that someone special is nearby. He's been missing this so much, feeling complete with you by his side.

He takes his gaze to you, it was inevitable, your laughter brought him closer and closer to you. And seeing you laugh while rolling your eyes, he remembered what it was like to feel complete.

“Only you, Warren,” you said, wishing that you could have this with him all the time. You notice his eyes glazed over the baby, and after struggling a lot with the inner voice of wisdom within you, you question. “Do you want to hold her?”

“Is that ok?” he asked in response, his eyes never leaving the little girl.

“Of course it’s ok, silly, she’s your kid,” you reminded him. Carefully, you handed your baby over to her father and watched him melt at the feel of her in his arms. You felt like your knees might give out at the sight of your daughter with him like that— it was just such a tender moment.

“What’s her name?” he asked without looking away from her. You knew every detail of him, you knew he was trying hard not to cry.

The little girl finds the different contact strange, moving in her father's lap, she frowns and you smile with the expressions that this little being was capable of making.

“Liz,” you said. His eyes snapped up to you. "Actually, Elizabeth.” Watching him with her in his arms was an exciting and at the same time triggering scene, you had imagined this moment many times during pregnancy and after her birth, having your thoughts come alive was at least something.

For a while you remained in a soft silence, Warren didn't take his eyes off little Liz as if he memorized every detail of her. You waited for her to sleep, and when she finally did so, you led Rojas to the living room of your house, offering him something to eat.

You felt the silence consume you both, the questions, the anguish, the longing, the yearning all hovered between you as the water boiled for the coffee you made. Warren stared at your every move, your presence was something he wanted so badly he was afraid of doing something to lose it. But silence couldn't remain forever, he waits for you to sit on the couch next to him.

“Doll… Why didn’t you tell me?” He questioned as a tear fell down his cheek.

You sigh, as many times as you thought about this conversation, having it was something else entirely... Everything you thought to say, all the ways you thought to act, slipped from your mind as you looked straight into his eyes.

“The day that I saw you kiss that other girl." You clarify, he nods, embarrassed by the matter. "That was the day I found out, earlier. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you after all I saw."

You thought that after a year it was going to be easier, but the knot that rises in your throat is proof that it wasn't.

Your hands were shaking and when he noticed that he wanted very much to take them in his, to show comfort, but your withdrawal indicated that it was better not.

"We had never talked about kids before, I didn’t know how you’d react. I had just seen the love of my life kissing another woman, I didn't have the courage to tell you. I also didn't want you to think this was my way of keeping you close."

"I would never think that…" he cuts you off, not offended but trying to explain himself somehow.

"But, can you blame me for thinking that Warren?" You laugh wryly, rolling your eyes slightly. "Through all the years we dated you never said you loved me." You shrug, he feels your chest tighten and you continue.

"Of course I didn’t want to do it on my own but I knew I could manage, and I have,” you replied, “I wanted to tell you, I did, but… I don't know, I needed my time.”

“Were you going to tell me?,” he asked, afraid of the answer.

"I was going to, I just didn't know when." You sigh, feeling the surroundings weigh.

There was a beat then— a tension that hung in the air with words both of you wanted to say but only one of you had the courage.

"I know I hurt you a lot." He started to say, your chest tightening as you realized he was going to bring up the subject. "But I would like to redeem myself, I would like to be part of this child's life... Your life."

"She is your daughter, you can certainly be part of her life." You assure him, this certainty brings him comfort, but when he notices that you were not included in that speech, he feels afraid. "I just hope you know that I'm her mother, and that's all, I'm your daughter's mom."

He felt his chest tighten, he knew this was possible, the chances of rejection were high and he was dealing with them now, but it hurt not to have you. It hurts to have failed you so much. He tries to ignore the tears that are reluctant to come out of his eyes, he takes a deep breath, trying not to let his frustrations out on you.

"I love you doll." He says, looking deep into your eyes, the words echo like magic inside you. "And I understand, but I want you to know that I want you as my girlfriend, my wife, my forever."

"Warren, please." Your words came out in a whisper, too many emotions for one day. "Would you mind leaving me alone now? You can come back tomorrow."

He already expected this reaction, and always aiming to respect your space he gets up.

"Of course." You guide him to the door, and before he leaves, he turns around. "I'll be back tomorrow, and I promise you that every day I'll show you that you made a great choice in giving me another chance."

"Have a great night Rojas." You say, closing the door, and as soon as you hear the click of it the tears in your eyes fall. You still loved him, and a lot.

As the door closed, you leaned against it, tears streaming down your face. The weight of the day's emotions crashed over you like a tidal wave, leaving you feeling both relieved and overwhelmed. Part of you wanted to believe Warren's words, to trust that he could change and be the man you had always hoped he would be. But another part of you, the part that had been hurt and betrayed, was hesitant to let him back into your life so easily.

You wiped away your tears, determined to stay strong for your daughter, Liz. She was the most important person in your life now, and you couldn't let your own feelings cloud your judgment. You took a deep breath and walked back into the house upstairs, where Liz was sleeping peacefully in her crib. Gazing at her tiny, innocent face, you knew that everything you did from this point on would be for her.

Over the next few days, Warren kept his promise. He showed up at your doorstep every morning with a bouquet of flowers, a gift for your daughter and a sincere apology. He understood that it would take time to earn back your trust, and he was willing to do whatever it took. Warren didn't just want to be a part of Liz's life; he wanted to be there for you too. He wanted to make things right, to have his family with you.

Slowly, you allowed Warren to become more involved. He spent time with Liz, learning how to change diapers, feed her, and soothe her when she cried. You watched as he held her, his eyes filled with love and tenderness. It warmed your heart to see them together, and you couldn't deny the bond that was forming between them. Watching him become a father was beautiful, he was always willing to learn more and do everything for his daughter, you slowly didn't remember how you had managed all of this without him.

As the days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, Warren proved himself to be a changed man. He showed up more often at your house, spending the morning with Liz while you got some work done, in the afternoon he helped to organize the house while you took care of the little one, offering to help with chores and cooking. He listened to your concerns and fears, providing a listening ear and words of comfort. Slowly but surely, he was showing himself to be the man you had always wanted him to be.

You never stopped loving him, not even when he broke your heart, the way love works is ironic and funny, you didn't understand and probably never would. From the first time you saw him, you knew your heart was his, and despite your fears about letting him into your life again, it didn't undo the love you had for him. It only made you more cautious, you avoided too much intimacy, you avoided any kind of excessive physical contact, very intimate conversations, you tried to keep him just as the father of your daughter, and that's all.

Warren was your addiction, a potent drug coursing through your veins. Since the age of sixteen, he became your illicit substance, an intoxicating elixir that both exhilarated and devastated you.

Like a drug, he captivated your senses, igniting a fiery craving deep within your soul. His presence was a double-edged sword, a tumultuous blend of euphoria and despair. Just a glimpse of his smile sent waves of ecstasy through you, leaving you craving more, yearning for the high only he could provide.

But with every high came the inevitable crash. The pain of betrayal cut through your heart like a searing withdrawal, leaving you trembling and broken. Yet, even in your shattered state, you couldn't resist the allure of his presence. Like a desperate addict, you found solace in the numbness he brought, an escape from the reality you desperately wished to forget.

You knew you had to protect yourself, to guard your heart from the dangerous allure of his touch. You constructed walls, built barriers around your emotions, and numbed yourself to his effect. Yet, the more you tried to resist, the more his influence seeped into your veins, overpowering your defenses.

His constant presence became a merciless temptation, testing your resolve with every passing day. The longing within you grew stronger, pulling you back into the abyss of emotions you fought so hard to suppress. It was a dangerous dance, a relentless struggle between the desire to indulge and the need to break free.

Just as a drug addict battles against the chains of addiction, you battled against your own yearning for Warren. You knew the pull he had on you was both your downfall and your weakness. And yet, despite the turmoil he caused, you couldn't deny the undeniable truth: you were still madly, deeply in love with him.

…

Liz had already slept for a few hours, the clock said two in the morning and you and Warren shared a grapevine in the living room while talking about anything. Matters go, matters come and soon you're talking about your old relationship and the day he showed up at your door after a year.

"What did you come to do here, huh?" You question, your words scrambled by alcohol.

"Didn't I make it clear that day, doll?" He asks, a smile playing on his lips.

"You said you loved me." You said laughing, and killing the rest of the liquid in your glass. "Don't ever call me a doll again!" You exclaim awkwardly, now that you've processed the sentence he's just said.

He looks down, lying down better in the armchair in front of you, how the fuck could he be so handsome?

"You used to like the nickname." He says, shrugging, instantly regretting it when he sees your withering gaze on him. "I'm sorry, is that... I got used to it, but if it bothers you."

You interrupt him, your senses being stunned by the liquor. "It bothers me precisely because of that, because I fucking love it."

Rojas feels his body surrender, he wanted you so much. "Y/N listen…"

Still under the influence of the drink, or so you prefer to believe, you interrupted him again. “One thing has been on my mind since the day you knocked on that fucking door." You say pointing to the wooden object. The drummer watches you closely “Warren, you came here to tell me you loved me. I need to know that you mean it—”

Warren gets up from where he was sitting, he approaches you, kneeling in front of you to show himself more intimate with you in some way. “I do, of course I do!”

"You know Rojas, I've loved you since I was sixteen years old." You sigh, trying to hold back the tears in your eyes. "When I met you, I knew that I had no escape... My heart was already yours, and I never demanded that you love me the same way, I think I was always very innocent dreaming of the day that you'd finally tell me those words…"

He watched you intently, feeling his heart sink, he let you continue, so you do.

"I never expected you to love me the way I love you." Hearing the words in the present tense he held himself back from smiling, you still loved him. "I just think I hoped you had at least enough affection for me to respect me."

He knew you were talking about that night, he condemned himself so much for his wrong, childish and extremely rash actions. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, I know you've been a wonderful father to her over the last few months, and I know you love her." You settle down on the couch, staring into his eyes after so long, he feels exposed, vulnerable.

"But I've waited a long time to hear this." You say, looking down at your lap you see a drop of water fall and only then do you realize you've been crying. "If you love me, I need you to know how important these words are to me."

He observed you intently, his love for you palpable in his gaze. He had experienced the emptiness that came with your absence, realizing that living without you was an impossible feat. With a tender gesture, he gently brushed away the tears cascading down your cheeks. Helplessly, you found yourself surrendering to his touch, feeling an innate sense of belonging. Perhaps, deep down, that's where you truly belonged.

His eyes, like an infinite abyss, held a captivating allure that enticed you to delve into uncharted territory. Within that unknown realm lay your destiny, your purpose, your frustrations, and your deepest desires. He embodied your destiny, your missing piece, your soul mate. No matter how much you resisted, you always found yourself returning to this very place—where your hands intertwined, where each embrace felt like coming home.

In his eyes, you saw the reflection of a shared journey, a connection that defied logic and surpassed all obstacles. The bond between you two was unbreakable, as if it had been woven into the fabric of the universe itself. With every passing moment, the undeniable truth emerged: you were meant to be together, entwined in a love that transcended time and space.

"I have never loved and will never love anyone the way I love you." Warren slowly approaches you, as if testing limits. "I love you Y/N, and I'm so sorry it took me so long to acknowledge and say that."

His words wash over you like a tsunami, it's not like it made things any easier or took you back to the beginning but it was a relief, feeling like you weren't the only one feeling all of this. He leans closer, holding your face gently, feeling his touch again was relieving.

“Doll, when I came here to tell you I love you. I meant that." You knew this man like the back of your hand, you knew he was telling you the truth. "And Elizabeth is just an extension of both of us, so I love her by default. That sounds oversimplified, I know that," He was nervous, you could feel his cold hands against your cheeks. "My point is: you’re my family. Both of you. I’m ready for this, I promise,” He pleaded. He needed you to understand, and you did. You understood completely.

You smile, unable to contain it, you roll your eyes. "I'm really drunk right now, I'll probably forget about it all tomorrow, so you have a chance to change your mind huh."

Warren rolls his eyes this time, he sits down on the couch, holding your hands this time. "I won't change my mind, I know what I want, I've always wanted you. It 's you, my love."

You take a deep breath, it's all the drink's fault, you repeat a hundred times in your mind.

"I love you Warren Rojas." You confess, he smiles, a sincere smile that conveys relief and pure joy.

"Can I kiss you? Please…" His voice was barely a whisper, he yearned for you, and you for him.

You sit on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. He looks at you with longing, curiosity, and need. "You must."

As the weight of your confessions hung in the air, a charged energy enveloped the room. Time seemed to slow down, the world fading into the background as you locked eyes with Warren, your hearts beating in sync.

With a mutual understanding, you eased yourself onto his lap, your bodies aligning as if they were always meant to fit together. Your arms encircled his neck, pulling him closer, while his hands found their place, resting gently on your waist.

In that moment, everything around you ceased to exist. The soft glow of the room seemed to intensify, illuminating the space between you. Anticipation crackled in the air, the weight of unspoken desires making the atmosphere electric.

As your faces drew closer, the warmth of his breath mingled with yours, a tantalizing prelude to the intimacy that awaited. His gaze bore into your soul, his eyes filled with a mixture of longing, curiosity, and an overwhelming need that mirrored your own.

Closing your eyes, you surrendered to the inevitability of the moment, allowing your lips to meet in a delicate collision. It started with a tender brush, a hesitant exploration, testing the waters of this newfound yet known connection. But the sparks ignited, and the kiss deepened, fuelled by a shared hunger and the unspoken promises of a love rekindled.

His lips moved against yours with a fervor that mirrored the intensity of your emotions. It was a dance of passion and tenderness, a symphony of rediscovery and forgiveness. Each touch, each caress, conveyed a multitude of emotions that words could never capture.

Time lost all meaning as the kiss deepened, the world outside fading away. In that singular moment, it was just the two of you, locked in a timeless embrace. The weight of past mistakes dissolved, replaced by the sheer bliss of being in each other's arms once again.

You are interrupted by your little girl crying in the room upstairs, you break away staring at each other for a moment, you can't hold back and start laughing at the situation, hiding your face in his neck. He holds you tenderly, not wanting to let you go.

"Alright tiger, go get your kid." You say patting his shoulder, getting off his lap.

Warren goes upstairs to his daughter's room, he finds the little girl crying propped up in her crib.

"Hello there kitten." He whispers, the little one seems to calm down with the figure of her father, opening her chubby arms towards him. "Wanna get downstairs to mommy?"

The baby hides her face in the crook of her father's neck, which makes him smile as he remembers her mother's act a few seconds ago. He goes with her to the breastfeeding chair with the little one in his lap, and stays there making her sleep.

You notice the man's delay, and decide to go after him, going up the stairs slowly so as not to make too much noise and wake up Liz, who had probably already gone back to sleep. You arrive at the foot of her bedroom door, finding Warren asleep with the little one in his lap, her head resting on her father's chest, he hugged her gently like a treasure.

Your heart melts through the scene, these two were your everything, you never thought you would love someone as much as you loved them. You enter the room, taking the little one in your arm gently, she makes a face threatening to wake up but you calm her down before that, you put her in her crib then turn to Warren.

"Hey pretty boy." You call him out, gently stroking his knee. "Come on, let's go to bed and sleep."

He yawns, opening his eyes slowly, he is startled to not feel Liz in his lap, but you reassure him by pointing to the crib.

You leave the room, letting the door ajar after you leave. You start to head towards your room, but stop when you notice Warren going down the stairs.

"Where are you going?" You question yawning, leaning your body on the stair railing.

"To the couch." He clarifies, You roll your eyes, taking him by the hand and leading him to your room.

"You will sleep in our bed." He smiles and kisses you tenderly, you lie on the bed and talk until you fall asleep.

You took a chance on him then, just as you did when you moved to California. And you never looked back.

...

Hi, I hope you enjoyed it... Just so you guys know my requests are temporarily closed, so I can work on what you guys already asked me and also write the Warren's mini series I'm working on :) xoxo

Want to be tagged when new stories come out? REASONSMANDY'S TAG LIST

Taglist: @lantsovcolors, @quezadaas @boredshit-shadow @jaidaschampagneproblems @warrenrojaswife @94namkooksworld (I couldn't tag you for some reason, send me a dm so we can try to resolve what might have been)

[shipandrunforit]

Dropping some Heartsteel head cannons I have bc these thoughts won’t leave me alone and I’m curious how much they are going to tie in magic with this (bc Kayn and Ezreal still have their powers)

Kayn and Rhaast

Was a street kid growing, something happened that lead to him being orphaned and living on the streets for a few years

Accidentally released rhaast while trying to steal things from a museum, Rhaasf was not happy about having the situation and tried to leave but Kayn didn’t let him go out of spite.

Two slowly grew to be friends but aren’t the healthiest of friends with Kayns ego feeding into Rhaast, especially when their on stage, and Rhaast has a tendency to voice and pressure kayn to follow through on intrusive thoughts or actions.

Rhaaat was the one who thought of them entering the music industry (wanted everyone’s eyes on him) and so they worked their ass off to get into the industry.

Rhaast also enjoys the dramatics, got very board sitting in the weapon for years and enjoys putting on a show and being a show off.

Ezreal

Was sort of like those Disney kids from the Mickey Mouse club, was how he got into the industry at such a young age. (Also could be why kayn calls him the pop star Prince, is bc he was everywhere for a while).

Is an orphan and is being raised by his uncle

Not sure how he got teleportation when he doesn’t seem to have the gauntlet but he very much loves using his abilities to jump around the city and do parkour.

Would probably also use it to sneak out at times either to hide from his old manager when he was in trouble

First time he did this in front of the boys was bc he was too lazy to walk to the kitchen and he scared the crap out of K’Sante, still make jokes about it.

The dog sleeps in his room, was also the one to name the dog.

Good af editing, especially on computers

Yone

Started out as a dj and went to music school and even taught his brother a few basics of being a dj as well.

Still had a falling out with his brother bc he saw how bad the industry was and didn’t want Yasuo to get involved. Led to them having a fight and haven’t really talked since

Is very into mythology and folklore (is why for his section of music video we see the azukana spirt. Is also partially bc I have no fucking clue how else to tie that part of his backstory into this).

Boys played a prank on him by switching his coffee once, long story short they all (including Rhaast) collectively agreed never to do this again bc of how terrifying the results of this prank where

Yone is one of the best drawers in the group besides Sett and the two talk about animations sometimes (Yone animated the fox in his section)

Has made the boys Dino nuggets at one point

Sett

Is a big fan of comics, animation, and pfp fighting games

Did the drawings for his section as well as the animations for the background (am referring to that scene in the end of the music video)

Dad was a boxer who left when Sett was young

Sett also knows how to box and worked as a boxer for a bit as well as a bouncer maybe. Rap was more of a hobby but when he got signed onto a record label he switched to doing it full time

Punched the paparazzi bc they were harassing his mom

Favorite anime’s include jojo’s bizar adventures and one punch man

Meet Apjelious before Heartsteel at a meuseum that showcasing a new planetarium exhibit. Two hit it off and are now dating.

Aphelios and Alune

He and his sister were involved in choir when they were younger

Alune went off to college to get her degree in business in management and aphelios went stayed home and did his music.

Aphelios lost his voice either due to medical reasons or because of an accident, Alune transferred to a closer college to be with her brother when the news broke out.

Aphelios had a hard time getting further in the industry, was often discredited or people wouldn’t want to work with him bc it was “too much of a hassle”.

Was nervous for his sister to meet Sett only to realize the two get along great and would 100% commit crimes together

Is also a gamer and will do dates with Sett that’s just them playing video games or Sett listening to him ramble on about movie or video game scores.

Aline was very chill with the boys breaking into the studio bjt did tell them not to break anything (spoilers, they did and she was not happy about it).

Alune is the older sibling and will tease her brother and the other boys and is not afraid to fight them if push comes to shove.

K’Sante

Has written and preformed a lot of songs before Heartsteel

Used to work on songs with his ex boyfriend but the two spit up due to the strain working together put on their relationship

Is the relationship expert in the group and will give the others advise or flirting or planning dates or anything else they need help with if they ask.

Loves going to the gym with Sett, might have been how the two of them meet in the first place. They got to talking about music at one point and when they found out the other was looking for someone to collaborate with they decided to work together.

Spot for one another when in the gym

Is the other mom friend of the group but a lot more chill, let’s them get away with more things then Yone would

Is good at filming and old school editing. He and Ezrael did most of the did for the music video and let the others scribble one what they compiled then approved it.

Was against the coffee incident and straight up left the building when it happened.

[norrix416]

I am ✨manifesting✨ a Norrix New Year's Eve celebration.

You Got In My Mind (Like A Beautiful Dream)

Tuesday, December 31st, 10.59 PM Indochina Time, Bangkok, Thailand. An hour and a minute until New Year. An hour and a half until Lando can celebrate it.

Until then though, Lando is stuck backstage, watching Martin perform from afar. The show is absolutely mind blowing. Lasers and pyrotechnics and confetti canons are going wild. Martin is jumping up and down and creating a hell of an atmosphere for the crowd. Lando is nothing short of proud. Over the years he got to know loads of Martin's friends and people from team Garrix who made every single one of his shows even possible and so amazing. He knows how much work and time and love every single one of them puts into it, it makes him appreciate the final product even more.

By now he's been to a fair share of Martin Garrix shows but he will never get sick of watching Martin perform. Will never grow tired of seeing him all sweaty and full of adrenaline and passion. Every now and then Martin will turn his head in Lando's direction and shoot him a blinding smile that could easily outshine the fireworks above him. It sends sparks up Lando's spine just like it did the first time he watched him perform and Martin glanced at him from the stage.

Back then he thought he would never feel more special than being allowed to watch a show from backstage of the number one DJ in the world. He thought the same thing when not long after that Martin invited Lando to DJ with him for smaller gigs and parties for friends. But it got even better than that. Because now here he is, for the second year in a row, attending one of the world's biggest New Year's Eve shows. And he is not just watching the world's number one DJ, no, he is watching his boyfriend perform. And as if that wasn't amazing enough, he is watching him perform songs Martin wrote about him. Now, Lando is a really humble guy, but fuck, does that turn him on.

Yesterday Martin had offered Lando to join him on stage for a bit, a few fans already spotted him in Thailand a few days ago and connected the dots, so it wouldn't really have blown their cover, but Lando declined anyway because he wasn't sure if he wouldn't be too obvious and he didn't want to out them in front of thousands of people. Now, a couple of drinks into the evening, Lando knows it was the right decision, because if he were on stage with Martin right now, his hands would for sure be all over him.

Since he can't do that, he just clutches his drink tightly in his hand and trails his tongue over the rim of the glass, totally not imagining it's Martin's bottom lip.

The night progresses and the countdown to the end of the year is getting closer and closer. Martin's neck is getting sweatier by the minute and Lando's patience is running thin. He doesn't know how much longer he can refrain from walking on stage and burying his fingers in Martin's messy hair and licking a fat stripe down his neck.

He takes another sip of his drink.

Watse comes up to him, "Are you enjoying the show?" he asks and bops his head along to the music. What a silly question.

"Yeah! He is amazing, might be one of my favourites so far, I really don't know how he keeps outdoing himself!" Lando screams over the loud beats, voice full of admiration.

"Yep, that's our Martijn," Watse says with equal amounts of pride, "We have to make this a tradition," he continues and nods his head towards Lando.

"What do you mean?" Lando asks him.

"You celebrating New Year's Eve with us, it's always nice to have you tag along!"

"Oh, thank you! Yeah, it's definitely my intention," Lando replies and blushes a little, even after almost two and a half years of knowing Martin, he still can't believe he is lucky enough to get to plan a future with him.

Watse walks off again, talking to some other people and doing manager things.

Lando keeps watching Martin and moving along to the music. He looks at the countdown on one of the big screens. Five minutes until midnight. That means Lando's personal countdown until he can kiss Martin senseless is down to about 35 minutes. He can do this.

The song comes to an end and fades into an instrumental track, Martin takes the microphone and thanks all the fans for spending the night with him, for all the support throughout the year, and for making 2024 so amazing in general. He talks about how he knows that some of his fans might have had to go through tough times in the past year and he hopes his music brought them some hope and joy. He tells them he sees the videos people post of their proposals and weddings and parties where they play his songs and he thanks them for letting him be part of such special moments in their lives. He talks about some of the fun things he has planned for 2025 and how he hopes they will be part of it.

Lando thinks back to all the memories he shared with Martin the past year. From watching him perform the New Year's Eve show in Bali, to escaping people and enjoying a few days in Perth with Daniel, to skiing with more of their friends in Finland, to exploring caves in Vietnam. He thinks about how much fun they had on King's Day, how carefree and utterly happy he was and how the scar on his nose will forever remind him of it. He thinks about how Martin cried on the phone when he called him after his first Formula 1 win because he was so proud of him. How proud he was when he got to see him win live in Zandvoort. And how he moved mountains so he could celebrate the WCC with him. He thinks about the countless times they met up throughout the year even just for a day or two, just to spend time with each other's families, to watch tennis, to go shopping. Just to take Martin's boat out on the canals, to watch the stars, to cuddle. He thinks about how he got to celebrate the start, and now gets to celebrate the end of this incredible year, that was 2024, with the person he loves most. It makes him a little emotional.

Martin glances at the countdown, only 30 seconds to go. "Thank you so, so much for deciding to end this year with me and to start the new one together. I love you all so much!" he tells the audience.

The countdown is down to ten seconds and the crowd joins Martin in chanting, "10! 9! 8! 7! 6! 5! 4! 3! 2! 1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

"HAPPY NEW YEAR" Lando screams as well and their eyes meet for a second. Lando blows him a kiss, Martin puts his hand over his heart. God, how much he loves him.

The set continues for about another half hour and Lando's entire body is buzzing with anticipation.

Martin never has fixed set list but Lando knows which song he is closing the night with and as soon as he hears the opening notes of it, his heart starts beating faster in his chest. Only a couple more minutes. The music fades out, Martin waves one more time to the crowd, puts his hands together and bows his head down as a silent thank you. Then he runs off the stage, runs towards Lando. His hair is messy, his neck sweaty, his t-shirt is drenched as well; he looks completely perfect.

"Happy New Year, everybody!" Martin greets the people who are waiting for him behind the stage, but his entire focus is on Lando, his eyes never leaving his.

A round of roars erupts, everyone is talking above each other, eager to wish Martin a happy new year in return and congratulate him on his insane show.

Somebody tries to start a conversation with Martin but Lando is quick to interrupt them, "Nah uh, sorry guys, but he is mine now, I hope you'll excuse us," he says and takes Martin's hand, dragging him away from all the people. He makes him follow him into Martin's dressing room, once inside, he immediately shuts the door and presses Martin against it.

"Fuck, I need you," he whines against his lips.

"I'm all sweaty and gross," Martin giggles.

"No, I love you sweaty," Lando whispers in Martin's ear and drags his teeth across Martin's neck, "not gross at all," he kisses along his jaw, "besides, when I am done with you, you will be sweating anyway."

"Oh, is that so?" Martin says in a teasing voice and spins them around, his hands are on Lando's waist, holding him in place.

"You have no idea how riled up you got me," Lando moans, "so fucking unfair how hot you look on stage and I don't get to kiss you for hours."

"Mhmm yeah, we better make up for that now," Martin says against his skin, his lips are grazing the corner of Lando's mouth. He trails his tongue over Lando's bottom lip. Lando opens up with a sigh. Their teeth clash together and their tongues intertwine messily. It's sloppy and needy and everything Lando wants in that moment. He moves his hands to Martin's head and twists his fingers in the hair at the back of his neck. Martin lets out a deep moan. It's a heavenly sound. Lando's head is absolutely swimming; a little drunk on vodka, a lot drunk on Martin. "Fuck, I love you so much," he whines, a little trail of saliva connecting their lips.

"Couch," Martin instructs and clumsily walks Lando over to the couch in the corner of his room. Lando hastily pulls Martin's t-shirt over his head while Martin fumbles with the buttons of Lando's dress shirt. Lando feels the couch press against the back of his knees and lays down on it. Martin follows and puts his knees on either side of Lando's hips, straddling him. He is trailing kisses along Lando's collar bones when the door flies open. Their heads snap towards it.

"Ah fuck, niet weer!" Louis curses under his breath and shuts the door as quickly as he opened it.

Lando and Martin burst out laughing. "You'd think he would have learned to knock by now," Lando giggles and chases Martin's lips again. Martin gives him a quick peck and gets up from the couch.

"Nooo, come back," Lando complains immediately.

"I'll be right there, baby, just gonna lock the door," Martin walks over to the door and turns the key, then he spins around and walks towards him with a devilish smirk on his face. As soon as he is within reach, Lando grabs him and pulls him on top of him again. Martin complies easily. He gives Lando a deep kiss before he makes his way down his body. He drags his teeth along his jaw, licks a fat stripe down his throat, kisses down his chest, flicks his tongue against his nipples, trails kisses down his abs, and noses along the waistband of his trousers. He hooks his fingers in Lando's waistband and looks up to him, eyes full of love and lust, "Now I can properly wish you a happy new year," he says with a low voice and winks at Lando. He pulls Lando's trousers and boxer briefs down and kisses the inside of his thigh before he slowly takes him into his mouth.

Lando closes his eyes. Yeah, he can definitely get behind starting 2025 like this.

[myobsessionsspace]

Hi, I'm the anon who asked about the unconfirmed JiKook thoughts. You don't have to post this. I just wanted to tell you that yours was the best non-answer answer I've ever gotten. Thank you for putting together such a cute response. I agree with you. I'm horrible at the numbers and deep theories too, but it's fun to consider and you sounded like you wanted something fun to dig your teeth into for the heck of it. Also, I wanted to correct the link I put for the travel Vlog that reminds me of Closer Than This design theme. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5TbIyRhvIBQ It was actually Jimin's Japan travel Vlog for his and JKs 1st Japan trip, not the 2019 vacation I had mentioned. Again thanks and take care.

Post anon is referring to

Hi Lovely!

Can I just say I love you?! I love people like you, you seem like good peoples.

I say this with all the excitement possible, DM me and let’s go crazy with the jikook theories 😜

Nah but for real, I saw Jimin’s vlog he did for their trip years ago and revisit it occasionally, it’s soo friggin cute!

Original Jimin Tokyo Vlog Tweet

I see what you’re saying about the style of it and how it reminded you of the ‘Closer Than This' MV

I totally see what you're saying anon! And to think in 2017 Jimin probably only had iMovie and a vision. Then end of 2023, with a billion won company, that him and his members helped build with resources and a team, we get a refined but still in essence Jimin MV!

Very much in line with the fun, not too serious but full of sentiment style Jimin likes, like his video to army:

⬆️Clip from end of Jimin’s BTS x ARMY video⬇️

Original Tweet

Look at how proud he was showing his work off to Tae & Jungkook

Clips from BTS Memories of 2019

It’s just another notch in the ‘you are me, I am you’ counter.

Jimin’s BTS x ARMY Video

[2019 FESTA] Euphoria (DJ Swivel Forever Mix) - JK Memories by BTS @ 1:31-1:43

Who wudda thunk that Jimin and JK both like art and editing?! They are literally like two halves of a whole 😩

One of Jungkook’s many art styles

Some of Jimin’s art & Some of Jungkook’s art

Jikook have, in my opinion and also maybe one of the ‘unconfirmed Jikook thoughts’, been talking to each other back and forth through songs, their cute edits, twitter and weverse posts FOR YEARS

Again it’s like, how does anyone diminish their tighter than tight bond?! They’re like me and my besties that can talk to each other on text, IG dms, snap, TikTok etc and be holding different trains of conversation on all of them AND STILL see each other or speak on the phone for hours like we’re not in constant communication on different platforms…and still have little things we didn’t know about what the other did that day or did last week. Why are we like this 😭

Fr though if you wanna DM me instead of chatting through asks feel free 😉

Thanks for the follow up

💜

[khiphop-discussions]

What are some fun facts or funny/wholesome khiphop stories, events, whatever they may be that you heard of? I feel like I always see the tea and beef but nothing else somehow 😆

Hold on let me think back. I think I've talked about most of these before but they are scattered across different years and posts:

Giriboy thought he was the best rapper in Korea until he heard Lil Boi (I think Giriboy said this when he was the producer on SMTM)

Epik High was at a phone store a LONG time ago (NOTE: Epik High used to kinda be assholes sometimes back in the earlier days). A lady came in to get a new phone screen or a screen protector (can't remember which). DJ Tukutz just said out loud "Just buy a new one". The lady just walked out without finishing any transactions. It turns out that lady was Kang Hyejung (Actress/Tablo's wife)! I guess it didn't leave TOO bad of an impression as Tablo and Hyejung were still able to get married and have a family later when they officially met BUT I wonder how awkward it was when Tukutz actually met her officially. Also if he ever apologized for being a jerk LOL . I'm honestly shocked AF she didn't tell him off cause Tablo has told other stories about her before and she seems to have a strong personality. Maybe she wasn't in the mood that day or she was just embarrassed. I can't remember where this story was told. Probably an interview or a variety show.

When DPR Live/Dabin worked at a Subway when he first came to Korea, Christian used to always come in and get the most basic sandwich. Like turkey/ham (can't remember exactly which meat. maybe both), lettuce, and then other basic sandwich ingredients. Dabin wanted to make something more fancy but Christian just liked the basic sandwich. Story told on IG live w/ Christian and Live

The Quiett gave the TERRBLE advice to LeellaMarz that he shouldn't save any money until he turns 30. I'm honestly shocked The Quiett would give such terrible advice like this but then again, younger Quiett did seem like he spent excessively too. Leella has actually been listening to that advice too. He has 3 luxury cars and doesn't save. HOWEVER, Leella comes from money so I guess it's not really an issue. I can't remember the jobs but both of his parents have good, well respected jobs. This story was told on Psick show.

Changmo complained about his relationships (and potentially other life struggles) so much that eventually The Quiett got annoyed. IT was just an sigh tbh but apprently that's more frustration than anyone else in Ambition has ever seen The Quiett show. I can't remember where this was but it might be from the "Tomorrows Hangover" episode with Changmo, Ash Island, and Hash Swan

Queen Wasabii used to have a crush on the YouTuber/Variety Star Dex when they were doing the show Bloody Game 1 together (I don't really like wasabii but this story is cute so I put it). This was shown on Bloody Game 1.

When Yun B was on Bloody Game 2, he was kidnapped by the outdoors team and taken to the forest. This was done while he was sleeping in the middle of the night. So he was still in his underwear when they took him. He didn't think he'd be gone long when they woke him up. Luckily he took a backpack and it had some of his clothes in it LOL. This was shown on Bloody Game 2.

Ash Island slipped and fell while he was performing "Melody" at one of the festivals last year. I can't remember which one but it's still on Youtube if you wanna go look. It's the outside festival and I think he was wearing all Black.

YEARS ago I was in B-Free's IG live and he was talking about Dok2's old hairline. I typed "Don't make fun of/talk about that boy" (I can't remember whether I said "don't talk about" or "don't make fun of") in the comments. I was just kidding and put LOL and everything but I guess B-Free thought I was serious. So he was like "Oh my bad, I'm sorry". Then I started to feel bad because I felt like I was killing the vibe LOL. He was also saying that BeWhy's hair looked painted on LOL. (Again this was a SUPER long time ago. Probably 2016 or 2017).

[The wholesome/heartwarming part] Coogie said Code Kunst is his role model now that he's in AOMG. [The not so wholesome but funny part] When Code Kunst asked why not Kian84 or Simon D. Coogie said that Kian is a writer and Simon D is handsome... He thinks him and Code Kunst are on the same tier lookswise so that's why he chooses him.

REALLY old Khiphop stuff but Masta Wu and Danny Im (1tym) used to be really close to the level of a bromance LOL. Obviously Danny and Teddy Park were really close back then but I didn't know that Masta Wu was that type LOL. But I guess it checks out cause Wu told Danny that Danny "taught him humility" when Danny was leaving Korea for the US. From Danny From LA show

More REALLY old Khiphop stuff but YG Entertainment used to have a ping pong tournament back in the days (seems like this story was at some point during the 2nd gen kpop days but possibly from before). It was fun but apparently people got too serious. Teddy went and bought a professional paddle and started kicking everyone's ass. So then EVERYONE participating at YG had to go buy a professional paddle so it wasn't so unbalanced. I don't remember who ended up winning. From Danny Im's podcast

Loopy scolded one of the mkitain members (I think Bloo but maybe it was more than one member) in front of Kid Milli. The story seemed serious when it was told but I just think it's funny to get scolded in front of Kid Milli. It was probably so awkward for everyone. I think this was old during the Mkitwon series.

Apparently, Cha Cha ends up getting more girls if him and Jay go out together. from Ben Baller's OLD podcast. I don't even know if this episode with Jay is still available or not.

I can't think of anything else right now but I think this is a nice list.

[misscammiedawn]

I wanted to say thanks for that write up on the depiction of DID and Mr. Robot! You said everything that's been burning in my head for years now after watching. Hearing another system's thoughts on it was something we've been looking for.

Part of our inner world is also part of the NHM in London lol.

Truly and sincerely thank you.

First off, I am delighted to know that we're not alone in having the Natural History Museum as host to a segment of inner world. Would love to know which exhibit/area you see when you visit, though no obligation to respond. We know that these things can be deeply personal.

The show may not strike with every system but no two plural folx are going to have the same connections and attachments and comforts and that's 100% okay. For those who share our affection for Mr. Robot I am glad you get to enjoy the show and our ramblings on it.

Wishing you and your system well and thank you again for the ask. You've no idea how much feedback comforts and encourages.

Asks are always open.

-

Post the asker is referring to in the question, btw:

Also... have some random rambles about Mr. Robot in a readmore, because I feel like typing a bunch.

-

Also, because it gives us an opening to talk about it. Have some random Robot thoughts:

Mr. Robot is and remains my favorite show. I had started typing "our" favorite and got a sharp rejection so shall use singular pronouns. It has its issues, the use of the term "real" for instance, but with good faith a lot of it can vanish. Not all. But most.

I've been thinking about things a lot more since writing the essay and there are things I wish I had spent longer discussing. For instance during the portion where I wrote about how Coney Island represents a safety in nostalgia, a fortress for the Alderson siblings to hide in their treasured childhood memories; I didn't mention that both Trenton and Mobley use their own nostalgia as their hacker aliases with Trenton being where she lived when young and DJ Mobley clearly being someone Mobley found joy in at a younger age.

Similarly Hot Carla's name is selected because of a hair dresser who validated her gender identity and sheltered her when her parents were abusive. Whiterose's hacker alias is the last moment her life could have been the "good future" that she envisioned and worked so hard to force into reality.

I do like that pretty much every character who has an alias picks their alias as an identity forged in positive memories. Elliot clearly did with Mr. Robot being the store where he and his dad were friends and his other alias (The Gentleman) is a reference to The Careful Massacre of the Bourgeoisie, a movie he and Darlene watched every year that became the entire iconography for the fsociety movement.

If I were to ever do another Mr. Robot essay I think it would be on the way each character insists on living in the past in order to escape their present and how that relates to the way trauma invades the present. Not going to promise that, though. We're already snowed under with our Loop and Beatrice essays.

I think that can be one of the big failings of the show, actually, especially for those watching it as it aired. The show is deeply ingrained in the perspectives of characters who have critically distorted beliefs on reality and the show doesn't really start laying down objective reality until late season 3 after the cyber bombings.

Someone watching the show for the first time can watch Elliot's edgelord rants about "Fuck Society" and think that the show believes these things rather than its main character and we do not get the show delivering the message that it's small minded and childish (which, given that Elliot is stuck in trauma time and perpetually reliving a horrifically abusive childhood he cannot fully understand because he won't allow himself to remember clearly, is exactly what he is) until Irving and Price each spell it out to Mr. Robot in S3E7/9 or Whiterose outright calls Elliot on it in their final confrontation.

I adore the show for its patience and how it tells such an emotional and complicated story over its 45 hour runtime but I do understand people watching the first hour, getting the wrong idea about where the journey is going and opting out.

Hell I understand a system going in for DID representation and not having the patience to stick around the show's Fight Club pastiche era before starting to get to the meat of things.

But hey. I gave the show a shot and can't go back now. I love it too darned much.

Also because I don't want to start another thread on it, I do want to say that the show is truly frustrating in how it depicts economic collapse for society and yet none of the characters are ever impacted by it.

Darlene is homeless throughout the show, spare her stint living in an FBI safe house and she has no job through the show's run. She is never hurting for money, even when the banking system of the world collapses. She likely is stealing but it's frustrating that we only hear about the financial ruin in the periphery. We learn of the eviction of Elliot's neighbors spare for the kind older man who takes care of Flipper but Elliot himself can buy entire new computers on a whim and go months between jobs or spend a season in prison and not be impacted.

Like the show depicts the world going into a major decline during the economic crisis and it's clear by Season 4 that the show is venting frustration that when the banking system failed in 2008 the ones responsible were not harmed at all and it was the public who suffered and things just went back to how it was in time; it's just... every character is living comfortably in New York and Darlene is the closest we have to a "poor" character.

But that's a rant we have on every show. Poverty doesn't really exist in television. You watch a show like Ted Lasso and everyone is a millionaire. Even the Kit Manager (Nate, not Will) has parents who own a home, sent him to higher education and gave him private violin lessons. Kit Manager salary is about £25-50 per year, even for a Premier League Team.

...but my discomfort with how poverty is never represented on TV is just a random rant and I'm going way off topic.

I'll stop rambling now.

[justthinkingaboutlouis]

Hi Swathi, I saw that you were going to sleep so here is Zayn's recap for you (that you didn't ask) when you wake up:

Here is the link with the documentary and performance on ig. If you want only the documentary here is the video on twitter.

So after the DJ (who btw was in Louis first AFHF), they play the mini documentary where Zayn talk about how excited he was to sing in this performance after all this years etc.

Then Zayn appeared with this outfit, the coat was gone like after the first song or something like that and he look like this.

According to twitter the setlist was My Woman (twitter link), Alienated, Birds On A Cloud, Concrete Kisses x, Dreamin x, Gates Of Hell (twitter link) (I really just was listening without paying attention to the order).

He thanks the fans for the support and for waiting for him. It was all so good and end it so soon for all of us but it was worth it.

He got confused at one point on what song was next.

This was a few of the screen graphics x x x.

The fan project that Zayn never saw because he left without warning.

That is what I can remember. I hope you have a nice day/afternoon/night :)

CC... YOU ATE AN ANGEL😘😘 THANKS SO MUCH FOR THE RECAP.

Finally I was able to catch-up with zono!

How cool is that! She has now Dj'd zouis shows🤩 and the documentary starting somewhere in Pennsylvania had me😂 and hearing Zayn's thoughts and him sharing his rehearsals and just goofing around the farm is everything and absolutely loved how he says we are all just human beings not everyone is perfect and don't get me wrong even though there is pressure on him for returning on stage after 9 years, he seems so at peaceful and just be happy to be playing his album live which is just him and without the in ears fucking hell Zayn bro how did you manage to do that?

He looked so good and the coat was gone during 1st song 😂 and absolutely loved the screen and visuals throughout the show. His band is amazing all girls🥰 he thanked after every song and did the bow at end of the send and left just like that😂. His vocals are just amazing and my god he just smashed live performance the crowd was so happy to be there and hear him live the live streamer was so sweet with her commentary I love her.

Sad that he didn't see the fan project in real-time but I saw it was being recorded so he sure has seen it by now I think.

Again you're an angel thank you so so much for the great recap. Have a nice day/noon/night angel CC.