#standing in a crowd... while having a lil bit of social anxiety

[cinhomi]

if everything goes as planned, your girl here is seeing Stray Kids in July... like. for real.

[wintrwinchestr]

lather (joel miller x f!reader oneshot) 18+

moodboard by @iamasaddie

summary: you decide to try shaving your pussy for the first time on your first night settling into jackson with joel. he accidentally nicks you while helping you shave, but he makes sure to kiss it all better <3

warnings: 18+, smut, early jackson joel, established d/s relationship, porn with some plot (probably too much), oral (f receiving), innocence kink/roleplay, daddy kink (bordering on ddlg), shaving, a bit of insecure reader, blood (tried to keep it short & not very graphic), sprinkle of humiliation, pet names (darlin’, baby, babygirl, lil’ girl, honey, sweet girl, etc), joel refers to reader’s pussy as she/her, spitting, reader can be lifted by joel and has hair that can be tucked behind her ear, implied *legal* age gap (reader went to school in the qz)

word count: 2.9k

a/n: this fic is based on an nsfw audio by u/organ_donor86 on reddit!! i went to reddit and found it again so i could properly credit them for the inspiration, but i haven’t heard the full audio in probably 2 years so this fic is only based on what i could remember of the premise <3 this is my first time writing smut, nice comments and reblogs are appreciated if you enjoyed!!

You were sat on the end of the first clean, comfortable bed you had encountered in twenty years, taking in the surroundings of the charming bedroom you now found yourself in: The deer antler lamp emanating a warm glow from the bedside table, the framed paintings of various Wyoming-native wildlife hung up on the walls, the earth-toned woven rug beneath your bare feet. You took a deep breath, savoring the smell of a house that had never known decay. For the first time since outbreak day, you felt safe. Truly safe. Of course, Joel did his best to protect you as you traveled together over the last year or so since you met him, but you were never really without a looming threat of danger nearby.

His familiar, comforting voice startled you out of your daze.

“Y’ alright, babygirl? Settlin’ in okay?”

You looked over to where Joel was standing in the doorway, freshly showered and changed into a clean flannel and jeans.

You smiled with a relaxed sigh, flitting your eyes around the room again. “Yeah, I like it here, it’s cozy… Can’t wait to finally get a good night’s sleep in this bed tonight.”

“I’m with ya, baby, Maria ‘n Tommy gave us a real nice place, huh? Speakin’ of which, it’s about dinnertime, I think they just started servin’ it up down at the dinin’ hall. Why don’t we all go get somethin’ to eat together, hm? I know you must be hungry, sweet girl.”

Your eyes widened and your smile dropped a bit at the prospect of socializing with strangers, especially after the exhausting day you’d had getting to Jackson. Joel clocked your expression immediately, approaching where you were sat on the bed with slow strides. He gently pinched your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, tilting your head up to meet his eyes.

“I know, my babygirl’s a shy one, huh? There’ll be a lotta people down there, I know…” He stroked a lock of hair behind your ear with his other hand. “Why don’t I go down there myself and see about bringin’ back some plates for us to eat together, just you and me? We’ll save the introductions for tomorrow, alright, darlin’?”

You nodded, your shoulders relaxing as your anxiety was soothed by his reassurances. He smiled down at you and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Alright, sit tight, honey, Daddy’ll be right back… We’ll have a nice lil’ night together.” Another soft kiss, to your lips this time, and he was gone from the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

You got up from the bed and padded over to the window. Peering out to the main road, you could see a crowd of people lined up outside the dining hall to get their evening meal. You figured you had at least fifteen minutes or so until Joel returned, deciding to take the opportunity to explore more of the house while you waited.

You wandered out of the bedroom and down the hallway, peeking your head around the doorframe of the first room you came upon. You reached out your arm and blindly felt around for the lightswitch, flicking it on once you found it. You were still standing in the doorway, knowing by now to wait a beat for the roaches to scatter before stepping fully inside. But to your surprise, there were none. The fluorescent ceiling light revealed the room to be a bathroom, a clean one at that. 

You stepped over the threshold, immediately taking notice of the charming basket of homemade-looking toiletries perched on the sink’s granite countertop. It might as well have been Christmas morning, the overwhelming joy you felt at the idea of getting to take a bath in a clean tub with soap after all these years. 

You picked up a white bar of soap from the basket and brought it to your nose, your eyelids fluttering closed as you inhaled its sweet vanilla scent. When you opened your eyes again, you noticed something even more enticing in the basket: a razor. The QZ school you attended had allowed the boys to have them in order to keep their facial hair under control, but deemed them a non-essential for the girls. Which, you supposed, was true, but you had still always fantasized about having a smooth, hairless body like the girls you had seen in wrinkled magazines and faded movie posters.

Your newly acquired shaving supplies planted an idea in your head: you were going to surprise Joel by shaving your pubic area for the first time. You imagined what it would be like to make a move on him after dinner, getting him hot and bothered, letting him carry you back up to the bedroom to have his way with you, and the wanton look on his face when he pulled down your cotton panties to find your pussy glistening and bare for him for the first time.

You practically tripped over your own feet in your rush to close the bathroom door. You quickly stripped off your worn jeans and underwear, tossing them into the corner of the bathroom to be dealt with later. You plugged up the sink and began to fill it with warm water, hoisting yourself up onto the countertop.

You swished the bar of soap around in the water, then rubbed it on a small patch of hair to create some suds. You placed the razor onto your soapy mound, then dragged it upward along your skin toward your belly button. Removing the hair proved to be more difficult than expected, and you were surprised to find that it hurt. It felt like you had just ripped out the hair instead of shaving it clean off. Just as you had touched the razor to the same thatch of hair to try again, you heard Joel’s heavy footsteps approaching, returning with your dinner much sooner than you had expected. 

He was slowly turning the knob before you had a chance to get up and lock the door. “You in here, darlin? I was callin’ your name but you weren’t respondin’, and you weren't in the bedroom…”

“Sorry, Daddy… I’m just, um… doing something…” you responded, not very convincing in your flustered state.

“Can I come in, baby?”

You hummed your permission and he pushed the door open. The concerned look on his face dissolved when he saw you, worried at first that you might have been crying. His eyebrows raised and his lips parted in realization as he took in the sight of you before him.

“What’re you doin’ in here, darlin’, hm?”

“I… I wanted it to be a surprise. Wanted to shave it for you…” you admitted with a defeated pout.

“Oh babygirl… you know I’ve never cared about what you look like down there, don’t you?” You suddenly felt shy under his gaze, beginning to regret giving in to your girlish idea.

“I know, but… just wanted to look pretty for you, that’s all… like the girls in the magazines…”

“Oh, baby… you’re already the prettiest lil’ angel I ever laid eyes on… But if you really wanna shave her, Daddy’ll help you, sweet girl, don’t gotta keep struggling…”

He pulled up the worn little wooden stool from the corner of the bathroom and took a seat between your spread legs, gesturing for you to hand him the razor and bar of soap. You gave them up reluctantly, placing them delicately into his calloused hand. Your lips were still formed into a little pout, upset that your surprise had been ruined.

He dipped the vanilla-scented bar into the sink again, then rubbed it back and forth along the same vertical strip of skin above the hood of your clit that you had tried to start shaving first. He took note of the shoddily clipped hairs and how the skin beneath them was already looking a bit irritated from your misguided attempt.

“Gotta shave in the direction of the hair first, honey… like this…” He swished the razor in the water, then demonstrated the technique. The fingers of his left hand were splayed out across your lower tummy, his thumb pointed down, tugging the skin up towards your belly button as he shaved downward with his right. “See, baby? Just like this…” He did a few passes over the area, rinsing the razor in between each one. 

You were mesmerized by his movements, watching his expert fingers work to remove coarse hair, revealing velvet smooth skin underneath. His hands looked so strong and competent as they moved from one patch of hair to the next, his brows furrowed and his tongue peeking out from between his plush lips in concentration.

You felt your core becoming wet as he exposed more bare skin to the bathroom’s cool air, his warm breath ghosting over your clit with each careful stroke of the razor. As he pulled away to admire how his work was coming along, the focused tension between his eyebrows released, noticing your hole beginning to drip.

“Oh…” he breathed, gathering some of your wetness on his thumb and bringing it closer to his face, inspecting it. “What’s all this honey, hm? This just from Daddy helpin’ you shave your lil’ pussy?” He sucked his thumb into his mouth, his eyelids fluttering as he savored the flavor. “Taste so sweet, babygirl… always so fuckin’ sweet f’ me…”

You nodded and whimpered at his words, heat rising to your cheeks at his slight mocking tone. “Can’t help it, Daddy…” Your hips started twitching of their own volition, rocking upward toward where his lips were now curled into a faux-sympathetic pout. You knew this was part of a little game he liked to play with you, the one where he made you feel a little embarrassed for being so easily turned on by him.

“I know, honey, I know… Lil’ girl can’t ever help herself, always gets wet f’ me so easily, doesn’t she? But you gotta hold still f’ me, let Daddy finish helpin’ you shave, okay?”

You gave another quick little nod and a hum of agreement that came out sounding more like a pathetic whine, and tried your best to control the movements of your pelvis as he got back to work.

But his big, warm hand was spread out over the delicate skin of your tummy again, and his lips were so close to being right where you wanted them, and what little self control you had been able to muster was quickly beginning to slip away. You were nearly able to contain yourself for the rest of his shaving, but your eager hips betrayed you on what would have been the final pass of the razor, giving a swift little buck toward Joel’s face despite your best efforts to keep still.

He wasn’t prepared for your sudden movement, and the sharp blades nicked the skin of one of your outer lips. You let out a startled cry as a little crimson pearl began to bloom on your sensitive skin. Joel gasped and was quick to apologize, even though your injury was really due to your own desperation. “Oh, Christ… I’m sorry, babygirl, I’m so sorry… here, gimme a tissue, baby.” 

With a shaky hand, you reached over to the box of tissues sitting on the back of the toilet, plucking one out to hand to him. He dropped the razor in favor of the tissue, balling it up and gently pressing it to the little cut. His free hand quickly came up to the side of your face, smoothing his thumb across your cheekbone. “You okay, babygirl? I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean t’ hurt ya… told ya to keep still for me, baby…”

He wiped away a tear that had slipped from your lashes as you sniffled. “I’m okay, Daddy, jus’ scared me… stings a lil’ bit…”

“Yeah, I’ll bet it does… my poor girl. Daddy shoulda been more careful, knew you wouldn’t be able to control yourself, needy lil’ thing… But you know what, babygirl? Daddy knows somethin’ that’ll help, that’ll make it stop hurtin’...”

“What is it?” you asked, soft voice still wavering slightly.

“Well, I read somewhere a long time ago… that spit can help a lot with lil’ cuts and things…”

You could tell this was part of one of the other little games you liked to play together. The one where you pretended to be innocent and inexperienced, when in reality, Joel had made sure you were anything but. But you liked this game, it put butterflies in your tummy and made your weeping hole quiver when you played the part for him.

“It… it can?” you wondered with a naive-sounding lilt.

“Oh yeah, babygirl, you never heard o’ that before? Spit can help a whole lot, ‘specially Daddy’s spit, can make it feel all better, darlin’...” The stained tissue now discarded, his thumbs gently stroked the slick pink skin of your outer lips as he spoke, careful to avoid your little injury. “And your lil’ baby pussy is a real uncomfortable place to have a cut like this, too… Don’t want my girl hurtin’...”

Your eyebrows were knit together with need as you released a pathetic whimper, your breath hitching and heat rising from your fluttering tummy all the way up to your cheeks. He barely concealed a smirk as he noticed the change in your demeanor, knowing how this particular game had always affected you.

“Whaddya say, sweet girl, hm? You wanna give it a try? You want Daddy to kiss it all better?”

You nodded frantically, your mouth slightly agape as you began to pant out of desperation.

He was quick to deliver a small swat to your inner thigh at your unspoken answer.

“Words, baby, you know better…”

“Y-yes, Daddy, please, want you to kiss it better, make it stop hurting…”

“There you go, good girl. Spread your legs a lil’ more for me, honey, let me see her…”

You wiggled your thighs further apart on top of the counter, giving him full access to your now soaking cunt. 

“There she is, baby, she’s cryin’ for me, ain’t she? Needs her Daddy to make her feel all better…”

He placed a few wet kisses to the afflicted area before looking up at you with apologetic eyes. “How’s that feel, babygirl? She still hurtin’?”

You nodded your head with a pathetic little cry, mindlessly chasing after his mouth with your hips. “Still hurts, Daddy…” you vocalized your answer this time. 

“Yeah? Poor lil’ pussy… She need some more lovin’ from her Daddy? More of his spit to help make her feel good again?”

Another frantic nod, another eager mewl. “M-more… please, Daddy…” 

“Alright, babygirl, don’t you worry, Daddy’ll give her some more…”

He latched his lips onto your swollen clit, alternating between sucking it into his mouth and giving it soft kitten licks. His large hands were firmly planted on the inside of each of your thighs, keeping you spread wide as he devoured you. You were already so sensitive from his teasing, it wasn’t going to take much more to push you over the edge. You were practically riding his face, your hips canting feverishly into his mouth with each expert drag of his tongue across your folds. 

When he started fucking his tongue into your bitty hole, swirling it around and then licking back up to your clit to circle it, you knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

“Please, Daddy, please… feels so good, ‘s too much, gonna cum, Daddy…”

“Yeah? I dunno, babygirl, I don’t think she’s healed all the way just yet… might still need some more takin’ care of,” he murmured into your pussy before pulling his head away to spit directly onto your cunt. The lewd action was enough to launch you into your orgasm right then, his head still between your legs, slurping up the divine combination of his saliva and your sweet juices. As you rode it out, his tongue maintained a gentle, steady strum on your clit, eliciting breathy whines of please and yes and Daddy…

When you finally came down from your high, your breath catching up to you and your hips stilling, your pussy twitched one last time at the sight of Joel’s wrecked face. He was smirking up at you, his face soaked with your slick, thumbs rubbing soothing circles onto your thighs. 

“Well, I reckon it worked, whaddya think, darlin’? She feelin’ better now?”

“Much better… thank you Daddy…” you sighed, still catching your breath.

“You’re welcome, babygirl, such pretty manners… Now, why don’t we get ourselves cleaned up and have some dinner, hm? I even brought back a slice o’ huckleberry pie for ya if you eat all your vegetables like a good girl…”

You lit up immediately at the promise, prompting Joel to reach into the basket and pull out a soft, cream-colored washcloth. He dunked it in the water, squeezing out the excess, and carefully cleaned up your now freshly bare pussy. When he was done, you took the washcloth from him, rinsing it in the sink before repeating his cleansing process on his own face. He helped you up off the counter before leaving the bathroom, returning promptly with a fresh set of clothes for you to change into. He helped you into a clean pair of panties, which you noted felt nice against your naked skin, then into a warm sweatshirt and comfortable leggings.

He carried you into the kitchen and sat you down at the little table set for two. You ate your dinners together by soft candlelight, relishing the feeling of having a sturdy roof over your heads and warm food in your stomachs.

You supposed tonight, and this little house in Jackson, represented a new beginning in more ways than one.

tag list: @beefrobeefcal @gracieispunk @iamasaddie @rebel-held

[thesoundofmadness]

@mrfartpowered fucking grips you. my pal theres so much you'renot ready for this

au summary: the bros make a band with levander after graduation. theres alot of drama.

read more because. oh boy

so, first. the epilouge.

unstank my hart happens.

going into 11th grade, theresa asks randy out and they date for a while. high school sweethearts. the sorceress comes back, messes it up. not EXACTLY sure what all goes down here, but it ends with fowlham breaking off, and randy deafeating the sorceress for good.

12th grade graduation. randy has to give up being the ninja. he, doesn't WANT to, but ultimately accepts it.

Randy asks Howard NOT to tell him he was the ninja. He's worried if Howard does, it will undo the mind wipe, and he'll go crazy like a certain previous ninja did. Howard relunctantly promises to.

Randy mind wipes. one specfic detail i have about this scene is. after the mind wipe, Randy starts crying for reasons he can't remember. Howard just awkwardly comforts him.

COLLEGE.

Randy and Howard go off to college. Howard is studying either culinary or business. dunno exactly what randy studies.

Randy is STRUGGLING. Alongside the general stress that comes with adulthood, he's developing and dealing with PTSD from being the ninja. he feels VERY lost and unsure of himself. has NO idea why.

specfic hcs i have for randy and his ptsd. he develops pretty bad anxiety and paranoia. sometimes he straight up can't leave the house in fear of something after him. bad social anxiety. doesn't like being touched randomly, and can't handle being recongized by someone he doesn't know. he's also partially mute. when his anxiety is REALLY bad, he can't talk for DAYS.

he has, NO idea why tho. doesn't remember anything that could've possiby happened to cause this.

howard's struggling too. not nearly the same level as randy is. some of it is influence from being possessed by the tengu. he can't stand being in the dark. he has feelings of being trapped in the stone, and wanting to break out. finds fire comforting.

some of it is from randy too. randy was constantly ditching him to do ninja things, having to help randy whenever he got hurt, and mostly importantly, having to keep the secret of the ninja from him.

howard CAN'T stand not telling randy about the ninja. yeah there was a lot of problems, but they had so much fun together. they went to space together. they had a band together. all sorts of lil shit, and randy doesn't remember ANY of it.

howard still knows all of the ninja secrets, and refuses to tell anyone about it.

howard, distances himself from Randy. he really doesn't know how to deal with it. starts avoiding him, and stops hanging out with him.

Randy doesn't get why. at all. Whenever they have a fight, they usually end up talking it out and laughing about it later. but there wasn't even a fight this time???????

i imagine they room together for a year, before one of them gets their own place.

randy gets a job at the local movie theater. saw fanart of howard being a barista sometime ago, howard'sa barista.

the job actually helps randy with his anxiety a bit. he learns customer service pretty quickly.

one night, being bored as hell at home, randy decides to go to a local bar. levender's band is playing, and levender recongizes randy in the crowd.

Levender has been studying music at a different, specialized college. Still plays the guitar, but he's mainly focusing on composing and producing music. He still has a dream of being a legendary rockstar. He loves musicals and is an actual good at rythem games. specfially guitar hero.

Levender recongizes Randy in the crowd, and decides to say hi. He doesn't have any hard feelings about what happened in 9th grade.

He's done a complete 180 since high school. He's chill and easy to talk to, if not a bit shy. rides a motorcyle.

I imagine Levender is very empathetic and emotionally sensitive towards others. Music is all about emotion after all.

Levender says hi, and its takes Randy a minute to recongize him.

I imagine it's a scene where like, Levender looks kinda upset and Randy thinks he's dead, only to realize Levender's chill.

They talk and catch up, and Levender plays on stage. it's nice.

They slowly start to become friends. Randy goes back to the bar the next week, they hang out again. Randy starts following Levender's band, and Levender invites Randy out to places.

maybe a bit of a fling. just dudes being bros

I like to imagine there's this one thing. Levender invites Randy as his +1 to a college party at his school. Randy's nervous, but goes along anyway. something happens, and randy has a bad panic attack. He straight up jumps the fence and runs back home.

did i mention that randy's atheltic as fuck. he runs FAST, and can hide like no other. howard's lazy, but got some skill. levender can't run for SHIT.

randy got home and howard helped calm him down.

Levender does try to stop him, and goes to look for him. He finds him at his apartment.

randy isn't answering any calls or texts, so levender goes up to his apartment. and howard answers the door.

i imagine at this point, levender and howard have re-met maybe once. levender saw howard while hanging out with randy, and despite randy's protests, said hi to howard. Howard just kinda, awakwardly left without much fanfare.

howard opens the door, and levender asks if randy's there. howard tells him randy's not in the mood to talk.

first time levender's really been exposed to randy's ptsd. randy hasn't opened up about it, feels like if he tells anyone (with the exception of howard), something is gonna happen.

levender tries to be supportive about it. Doesn't feel it's his place to actually ask tho.

Randy and Levender are basically best friends at this point. Howard... is salty. Kinda jealous, in a 'you don't know him like i do' sorta way.

like to imagine levender will just causally show up whenever randy is. randy tries to be sarcastic about it, but levender straight up Doesn't Get it.

Randy: lmao are you here for the ramen sale too?

Levender: no i came for you :D

Randy:.... to get ramen with me?

randy's love language is acts of service/gift giving. whenever they hang Randy brings snacks for levender.

Levender has also been having some problems with his band. Despite having all the instrumental talent, they can't find a lead singer. Levender can't sing very well. Causes some in fighting, causing Levender to distance himself from the group.

Levender vents to Randy about it one night. Randy tells him some lesson he learned from the ninja nomicon, says levender shouldn't give up on music if it makes him happy. Levender is inspired by this, and asks Randy to make a band with him.

Randy is... reluntant, but ultimately agrees. He can still play the keyboard/piano, and gets singing lessons.

Randy and Howard have yet to properly make up tho. Randy thinks Howard is just straight up done being his friend, which SUCKS. Howard still can't bring himself to face Randy.

I imagine Levender keeps running into Howard tho. Levender doesn't really know what's going on between the two, but does want to help settle it.

He kinda. indirectly confronts him about it. Saying that, if he doesn't want to be Randy's friend anymore, he has to tell him directly.

does anyone want a very indepth explaination of all of my rc9gn band au lore/drama. like. ALL of it.

[kaaytea]

Physical affection

⤷Includes: Eijun, Miyuki, Ryousuke

A/n: nothing much, just some daiya love :))

----------------------------------------------------------

Eijun

BABY BOY BABY BOY BABY BOY!!!!!

He is a puppy, nuff said

Loves to hold your hands bro

The first time he tried to hold your hand he was sO nervous to just…grab your hand

He just kinda hovered near you for a bit and continued to bump your hands together, eventually you just grabbed his hand and he hasn’t let go since

Kisses your nose a lot too

He likes to see you smile and be happy so kissing you on the nose is his go to

hO my God!! Please Ruffle his hair!!!

Just play with his hair in general and he will literally MeLt it’s so fluffy you won’t regret

Pda doesn’t make him uncomfy at all bc he’s Naturally a very touchy person, but he’s very wary about what he does in front of his upperclassmen simply bc he already gets teased a lot and doesn’t want you to get teased along with him if you do for some reason he always defends you

Doesn’t really understand anxiety in social situations so you’ll have to explain to him bc he’ll be completely oblivious to it

But once you do he is on top of it!! Will look out for you, he’ll hold onto your hands and give them light squeezes to remind you he’s got you 🥺

Almost always down to cuddle!! Like it’s a nightly event for you two. After he’s done w/ practice he just lies with you in his dorm room, you both usually end up watching Mochi play some sort of game

Likes to lie in the space between your body and arm with his head resting on your shoulder/chest

8/10 times falls asleep tho so watch out

Miyuki

Love and affection? What’s that?

Surprise he’s actually so clingy

Emotionally stunted tho soooooo…. He’s fighting the urge to smother you in hugs while also not knowing how the hell to show affection

He’s a mess But he loves you

Doesn’t really hold your hand, he would rather rest his hand on your back or around your waist so he can hold you close to him

He’s not against pda but it’s not his favorite thing, he likes to keep his romantic life to himself and to keep the team from teasing him/ having blackmail on him

The most he’ll do is have an arm around you or give you a kiss on the cheek. He doesn’t really understand the point of flaunting a relationship, aren’t they supposed to be intimate, personal things?

The only time he would “flaunt” your relationship would be to make Kuramochi uncomfortable/jealous

Can sense your changes in mood if you have anxiety

Will always pull you into a quiet area and calm you down. He wont be overly present, he’ll maybe say a few comforting words like, “I’ve got you, just focus on calming down.” Or “Keep breathing nothings gonna hurt you, I promise.”

He wants to be able to support you so he sticks close just incase you need him

Has a tendency to brush your hair out of your eyes, don’t really know why tho.

You’ll just be mid conversation and he’ll reach up and gently brush his fingers through your hair

Sitting up to read stat books and watching games has fUckEd his back and shoulders up so please!! rub them for him he will be eternally grateful

Teases you with kisses, he may be a sweetheart with you but he’s still a teasing lil asshole

Loves cuddling. Period.

He uses cuddling as a time to recharge. you make him feel comfortable enough to let his guard down

Likes to spoon you or have you tucked into his side

Miyuki has a very broad build and is fairly warm temperature wise, so cuddling is always very pleasant, like this man will just envelope you in warmth and love

Did I mention that he nuzzles your neck a lot? Will only do it in privacy tho lol

Ryousuke

Oh boy

He’s such a wild card when it comes to affection

Pinches your cheeks a lot

He says it’s a sign of love but that smile of his can be very misleading

Will karate chop you on the head like he does to his Kohai but it’s always very soft

Sweet boy wouldn’t ever actually lay a hand on you In that way

Will usually have his arm wrapped around you with his hand resting on your hip if you’re in public

Not opposed to holding hands he’s just very protective

Also, this boy has literally no shame. Pda isn’t a problem at all

Will literally make out with you in front of the entire first string team and then turn back to them as if nothing happened

Will notice right away if you start to get anxious, he pulls you into his side and gets you to a less crowded area ASAP

Whispers comforting words to you and makes sure no one approaches the both of you

If there’s someone who is standing in close proximity to you he always steps in between you and that person, he simply just doesn’t trust anyone he doesn’t personally know

Ryo loves to lean on you while reading!! Depending on where you guys are sitting he usually leans against your side or you back

Every year he pulls the birthday card on you and forces you to watch a horror movie with him just so he can feel you hold on to him

If you enjoy horror films you guys watch one every Friday, 95% of the time you guys aren’t paying attention to the movie and just cuddle

Ryo is very possessive and protective of you so he has to be big spoon

He will actually scream if you try to big spoon him

Besides spooning, Ryo loves to face you during cuddle time, he sees it as far more intimate and it’s an excuse to stare at you for a few hours

[suddenlysackler]

Afterglow (Nice to Meet You Series)

Charlie Barber x Reader

Nice to Meet You: a series of one shots based off of this post. Previous installments can be found here:

Adam Sackler

TW: Lil bit of angst and cynicism at the beginning, mentions of divorce, breakups, anxiety, depression, mention of alcohol consumption

A/N: This is my first piece that I’ve posted in awhile, I’m so sorry for the content drought! This series is kind of sporadic atm (kind of a result of life) but I miss you all so very much. Here’s to a normal content schedule some day 💓 Thank you for reading!

...

Timing always tends to be a funny thing, you supposed.

You weren’t sure if you were an “everything happens for a reason” sort of person person, a person who believed in fate. Who believed in soulmates. You used to be that way six years ago, before the reality of life and relationships and loss and grief and disappointment and all of the wonderful bad things had gotten to you. Had snatched up who you were, chewed that essence up, and spit it right back out. 

So here you were, one year removed from when everything essentially blew up in your face, leaving you to rebuild.

And here Charlie was, coming off one of the worst years of his life, knowing almost exactly how you felt.

The cynic in you is saying that it’s just too cliché, the two of you being so broken and finding each other like this. 

The small voice in the back of your mind that’s still clinging to the dreamer you once were? It’s telling you that the two of you were meant to find each other and, yeah, you roll your eyes every time the thought crosses your mind. However, with each passing day, you become more and more convinced that it was true.

How embarrassing. 

It’s one of those rare September days that happen before the seasons change, when it feels more like mid October than the last few days of summer. Your cheeks are burning from the wind that whips your hair everywhere, a pleasant cold that you’d longed for over the summer months. The hot coffee in your hand threatens to spill from it’s cup and you take tentative sips when you absolutely have to stop at crosswalks and wait for cars to go by before darting out again.

Naturally, you were running late to the Saturday morning meeting of people on the New York theater scene planning for what the industry calls red bucket season. In the aftermath of all of the loss and grief and spiraling thoughts last fall you had finally said yes to the constant begging of your coworkers in the marketing department at Schubert and started to become more heavily involved with Broadway Cares/Equity Fights Aids. The overwhelming joy that came with the annual Flea Market in the Schubert Ally last September had given you hope to last all the way through to red bucket season, which carried you into the spring and helped you to feel like you were doing something productive with your time other than sleep, eat, work, and cry.

You’d met people from different companies in the theater world, met so many lovely actors and musicians and dressers and heads of house and developed a net to busy yourself, to affirm your sense of self worth, to get a drink with on a Sunday afternoon when the ghost light was finally turned on after the matinee crowd had finally cleared the stage door and the last member of the orchestra had said goodnight.

Taking a deep breath and glancing at your watch only to see that you were fifteen minutes late, you swallow and push your way through the doors, cheeks heating up even more if at all possible. There isn’t anyone you know staring back at you when all twenty something people turn to see who had arrived late and interrupted the meeting’s organizer. You cringe internally as you call out a simple apology and slip into the first vacant seat that catches your eye.

Enter Charlie Barber.

His head whipped back when everyone else’s had. He had looked you up and down, tried to see if you were anyone he knew like everyone else in the room. He couldn’t see you, didn’t really see you until you plopped down next to him, wind blown and flustered and absolutely breathtaking. 

Post divorce finalization, Charlie had decided that he wasn’t going to go looking for someone else. He didn’t need someone to come in and pick up all the pieces or any of that bullshit. He wasn’t looking for a savior to fix it all —grief was something to handle on your own in his eyes. 

As you lean over and whisper another apology to him specifically, as if you had inconvenienced him personally by sweeping into the room late and choosing to sit next to him and draw attention to him too, Charlie feels like he’s been hit by a truck. The simple apology rings like a crescendo through his head and chest and he feels it in his bones. He rushes out his acknowledgement, tells you it’s okay, but he feels like his mouth has turned into molasses.  

About halfway through the presentation, he leans over and nudges you, pointing out a typo in the slide presentation. It’s a bold move, all things considered — you did know the woman running the meeting, she was your boss and someone you considered to be a close acquaintance. You’d mentioned as much when Charlie had turned to you during some dumb partner exercise she had made you all do to get to know each other.

The stifled laughter that bubbles past your lips rivals any top forty hit that played in the background when Charlie got his coffee that morning, much earlier than you, in the coffee shop three blocks from the auditorium you were now sitting in. Suddenly, he finds himself obsessing over how it would sound uninhibited by the social circumstances. He wants to make you laugh over and over again. 

It’s chance that the two of you are assigned to help run the first red bucket training session of the season before the first performance of a long running musical that you had never seen nor cared to have seen three days later. It’s close to dinner time and you’ve had a long day at the office. Charlie’s had a long day too, a long few days thinking about when he’d see you again. How well the two of you had gotten on, how your hands had brushed over each other at the stupid little food spread during your break on Saturday. 

He thinks about what he should wear, what you’d be wearing, if you’d want to run across the street afterwards and split a pie at the local pizza joint that all of the tourists frequented before shows, wanting to get an “authentic” slice but not wanting to stray to far from the familiarity of the theater district and Times Square in all of it’s grubby, overrated glory.

Charlie doesn’t assume he’d even crossed your mind since you parted ways Saturday. He figures you’re busy, that you aren’t looking for anything because you’re just fine on your own or maybe you’re with somebody else. He doesn’t chance snooping on your social media to break the lovely reverie dancing in his head as he falls asleep Saturday, Sunday, and Monday evening. The one where he gets to start over, gets to start a relationship that’s based in equal footing and rationality rather than fear and chaotic emotions and limelight. 

Little does he know that you’ve been thinking about him too, your mind reeling with the same possibilities for yourself. It scared you more than anything that you’d even begun to entertain those types of thoughts.

You knew he’d just come off of an ugly divorce. Hell, you knew who he was when you had plopped down next to him and caught a glimpse of his furrowed brow and broad shouldered stature. You hadn’t expected someone as busy as him, as important as him to be here with the rest of you, all minor players in the theater world for the most part. You certainly hadn’t expected to enjoy your time with him and dance almost the whole way home because you were so excited that you’d been given the opportunity to see him again. 

Was it worth asking him to hang out after the meeting? Would he laugh in your face? Turn you down politely and tell you he’d see you at your next assigned training session? Would he ignore it and walk out to meet someone else and kiss them under the lights of the marquees? 

You spent the whole meeting wondering how you would ask him, if you would even ask him. You worked on autopilot, completely preoccupied with stealing glances across the room at Charlie, joking with Charlie during breaks, brushing Charlie’s hand when you passed him paper...Charlie, Charlie, Charlie.

“Nice work tonight.” A baritone voice pulls you from your thoughts and you glance up to see the man himself, eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiles down at you while the cast filters back stage.

You start to clean things up, trying to busy yourself so you don’t put your foot in your mouth. “You too, Charlie.” You hum, mentally kicking yourself because wow were you lame. You could have said anything else and you just echoed his words instead? Your chances were slipping right through your fingers.

He picks at lint on his sweater that isn’t even there, kicks some invisible object as he watches you. “How come I’ve never seen you around before last weekend? Charlotte told me you’ve been with Schubert for awhile now and both of my shows have been in Schubert buildings. So’s my third.”

“You were talking to Charlotte about me?” You ask, head snapping up with a shit eating grin. He was talking about you with other people?

Charlie’s cheeks go bright red and his hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his. He stumbles over his words, tries to come up with any other explanation to hide the truth of why he had asked Charlotte about you. Before he could say anything else, you swallow your nerves, then stand up straighter. 

“Because maybe I’ve been talking to her about you.” You shrug — you hadn’t really. Hell, you don’t even know why the words came out of your mouth. 

His eyes sparkle a bit as he tilts his head. “Maybe?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

The man standing across from you grabs an armful of infographics and slips them into the box that was meant to go to the head of house, to have on hand for people interested in donating. “Charlotte mentioned you liked pizza.” He says and, of course, it couldn’t have been true, you didn’t know Charlotte that well, but you appreciated the effort.

You smile and take a step forward, looking him up and down shyly. “Maybe I do.”

Charlie snorts, rolls his eyes, then nudges you playfully for good measure as he prays that he’s reading the room correctly. “Well maybe you’d want to get some with me?”

You half hear the question. He’s so handsome and you wonder if he knows it. If he knows he’s had you weak at the knees since the minute you’d made eye contact with him Saturday. “Maybe I’d like that.” You say, eyes round and full of wonder.

He smiles, putting his hands in his pockets. “It’s a date then.”

“You want to call it a date?” Butterflies are now running rampant in your stomach.

“Maybe.”

You’re both grinning from ear to ear now, faces hot and hands sweaty and shaking. “If you’re calling it a date, then yeah. I’d like that a lot.”

So Charlie takes you across the street and you each eat half a pizza, laughing over cheap wine and talking about how snooty actors could be. How demanding the stage door was. Your respective backgrounds in theater, his early success, your acceptance of the fact that you wouldn’t make it big and it was better to just settle into marketing and still be in the industry. Job security and such. 

He takes your hand outside of the restaurant as you lead him toward the local bakery that sells cookies fresh from the oven.

You intertwine your fingers with his while you stand in line for hot chocolate as dusk turns to night in Central Park.

He kisses you after wiping a bit of chocolate from the corner of your mouth on the Brooklyn bound A train a half hour later. And again on your stoop when you finally arrive home. 

He kisses you another time after he gives you his number and then once more when he realizes he’s only a ten minute walk from your apartment.

After heading upstairs, showering, doing some dirty dishes, and then plopping onto your bed, you smile when you see three texts from Charlie on your phone’s lock screen. Was it cliché to say that he had swooped in and fixed everything? Yeah and he didn’t fix anything really. He’d kissed you a few times and held your hand, sure, and he seemed like he wanted more. You wanted more too, but that didn’t mean that you were healed.

All you did know was that the hopeless romantic in you was louder than they had been for the better part of two years and you couldn’t stop smiling and wondering if it was coincidence that you had plopped down next to Charlie Barber during the meeting. Was it coincidence that the barista had taken longer with your latte that morning or was it fate telling you to take a deep breath and hold on tight because in a matter of minutes, you’d be meeting someone special.

[ivyjlopez]

October 9, 2020, 8:19pm Q&A 101

Eight days before my birthday as of this writing. I’m actually having second thoughts if I should do a blog or a vlog. But, I do like writing and releasing my thoughts through words rather than speaking up. So, as I’m about to enter another year and continue to be an adult I’d like to start doing things I’ve wished I’ve done earlier. I do not intend to have plenty of followers in any social media platforms, the only goal is to write, encourage and lead people closer to Christ through my writings and to release the thoughts I have in my head for quite some time. Yes, I’ve always been telling people that I am an introverted gal and even so, that doesn’t mean I cannot share the gospel having this personality. Introversion is not a disease and if you know you’re one of the “introverted peeps” and is frightened to share the word by speaking up or encouraging people then share it the introverted way. You go, gal! The Lord got your back.  ;)

To begin this blogging journey, I’ve let some of my friends ask me certain questions about anything that they’d like to ask. Disclaimer, those that you’re about to read below are just based on my thoughts and opinions, and I’ve used some verses from the scriptures and will be using ‘em in my future blogs, if you’re actually opposed or you want to correct anything, feel free. So, here you go…

Question #1

Who are you?

I chose to answer this one first as a way of introducing myself a lil’ bit. So, most of my colleagues knew me as someone who’s meek, timid and quiet. But for those who are actually close to me would somehow oppose (lols). People would usually talk to me and seek advice as if I am a pro (lols kidding aside). I think it’s just that they consider me as someone worthy enough to be trusted sharing their deepest darkest secrets since I usually prefer to listen to someone’s rants and let the person do the talking cause sometimes that’s only what a person needs. Someone who’s willing to listen. I am literally not the type who does the first approach and most of the time would tag as “snobbish”. (Maybe I wasn’t really snobbish, I just didn’t see you due to my 300/400 vision. Haha.). I would definitely describe myself as someone who loves and values solitude, spends my spare time resting, reflecting, reading either at home or outdoors. I prefer to be in a small group of friends than being surrounded by the crowd. I am someone who doesn’t like the spotlight, I’d prefer to stay lowkey and not let everyone know what my next steps are. 

P.S. I might be one of the most picky person you’ll ever meet. Lols.

Question #2

Where do you want to go?

If this question pertains to travelling, I prefer land over water activities (just to add the fact that I don’t know how to swim that’s the main reason I dislike water activities). Nothing specific, it could be both local or international, I’d like to roam around places just to pass by a well-known spot and attractions, watch and appreciate the beauty of nature and sceneries, read books if possible (sort of boring to some but I’m just simply happy with this kind of thing).

Just to add up though, one of the unforgettable trips I did a year ago was at Puerto Princesa. To cut the story short it was supposedly for a two person trip turned to trio friends down to the first ever solo trip (sighs). It was my first time to be at the airport, first time to ride a plane, first time to go somewhere I’ve never been, first time to plan my own itinerary Onset (lols). Am I lonely during my whole stay? Definitely not (remember solitude is my forte) I was kinda nervous at first but it was suddenly replaced by excitement. I’ve met new people along the trip, my eyes were able to capture beautiful sceneries, I was able to eat and enjoy my breakfast without rushing. I didn’t do much activities on those days but my heart and soul was truly grateful and joyful. And it made me even realized, I am indeed capable of doing things on my own, going to a certain place on my own and just being on my own. Do not equate being alone to being lonely. I was planning to go back this year however, this isn’t the best time yet. Looking forward to visiting that place again and to more other places and countries soon.

But at the end of the day, as some would say, “there’s no place like home” - I will always end up with my comfort place which is, home. (But more than the home I have here on earth, I’m also one of those people who looks forward to coming home with the One who created humanity.)

Question #3

Is it really painful to be left behind?

Without a single thought - Yes. 

If it is for someone who passed away, the grief that anyone feels couldn’t be covered up by any comforting words even by the wisest person you knew. Just let the person grieve for now and do its work then healing will follow. Pray for that person too.

If it is for those who left in order to move out or pursue a career it would also be painful for those family members and close friends to see you go. But as for me, if you are in faith and I see you brave enough to explore the unknown, you will always have my support. It’ll be sad for a while. But we have to remember that sometimes letting a person go is also a way of showing our love and support. Let the person grow on his/her own.

Breakup - unquestionably painful. Why? Imagine not talking to the person you thought you’d end up marrying? Those plans you guys made will now be redirected to a different person. Same thing with losing a loved one because of death, this too needs a grieving phase. Cry as much as you want then stand up again. At the end of the day, you’ll just laugh it off (swear) forgiveness and acceptance will be your last destination.

Question #4

Lessons after the breakup

A lot actually (this might consume the entire space lols).

First, your happiness shouldn’t be dependent on a certain person.

Second, never allow yourself to be an option, you deserve to be a priority too.

Third, having the same personality doesn’t guarantee long-term commitment.

Fourth, never let a day pass by without fixing your arguments.

Fifth, communicate and choose to understand.

Sixth, shares the same faith and beliefs (it should always be a Christ-centered relationship).

Seventh, be consistent while both of you are still a work in-progress.

Eight, be honest. I’d prefer someone who tells the truth and does not sugar-coat.

Ninth, choose the people you’re hanging out with and/or seeking help or advise. Not everyone you call a friend is indeed a genuine friend. (It is written in 1 Corinthians 15:33 Do not be deceived: “Bad company corrupts good morals”)

Tenth, choose to forgive always, everybody deserves to be forgiven. Acceptance will always be around the corner once you’ve gone through the right stages of moving on. 

(I’ll be cutting it off right here cause there’s quite a lot that I’d like to write. Haha. I might write a separate blog for this. Stay tuned. Lols)

Question #5

How to stay positive in life? 

We can’t stay positive all the time. Even the strongest and the most optimistic person that you know will have his/her own downcasted moments and that is okay. Coming from someone who actually thinks negatively this question is kinda tough to answer (haha) but as for me, do not let negative thoughts overwhelm you to the point that it is already consuming you. Sometimes those thoughts are all in the mind and you’re just giving yourself a reason to create a problem that does not even exist. Surround yourself with people who will inspire and motivate you to do better, unfollow pages in social media that will trigger your anxiety, disconnect from people that are not helping you grow, stop looking up to idols and conforming to the pattern of this world, break the bad habits that you always knew you needed to stop doing. Keep it a habit to continually pray, always look up to God’s word prior seeking advice to your closest friends or bursting it all out in social media. If you are to seek counselling, ensure that it is from someone who will not tolerate you doing evil deeds. Read self-help books, open your bible, don't let the dust embrace it. Listen to calm music, it’ll help. Remember that you are loved and blessed. (Philippians 4: 6-7) 

(Thank you for your questions Jonnabae, Angge, Dani and Adreng) I’ll be posting the rest of the other questions and my response of course next week. :)

[1dreality]

Zayn Malik was never the celebrity you thought he was. If it wasn’t already obvious from his detached, often melancholic interviews in the wake of his 2015 departure from One Direction, it will be from the title of his second solo album. The very elongated 27-track Icarus Falls is comprised of more of the sparse R&B that Malik has perfected since his first release Mind of Mine in 2016, but like its titular myth is also indebted to themes of incredible ascent and crushing decline.

A decline not of Malik’s career, it should be said, but rather of his own mental health, the album serving as both an intimate meditation on Malik’s life so far and a dire warning about the trauma of instant fame. It all leads to one obvious question: Is Zayn OK?

In an age of millennial openness and Instagram confessionals, Malik remains something of an outlier: an enormously famous and highly visible celebrity, but one whose ambiguity allows us to project much onto him. In our collective consciousness, he has been the 1D-fleeing villain, smoking cigarettes, being mean to his bandmates on Twitter and looking miserable as well as the “soft boy” pin-up, a vulnerable figure in desperate need of a hug.

Much of that ambiguity is intentional. Along with declining to tour Mind of Mine, Malik is often press-shy, choosing not to take part in TV sit-downs or play the social media game in an era in which somebody like Ariana Grande spends much of the waking day interacting with her fans on Twitter and Instagram.

And while Malik has been open about some of his past struggles, including his battle with an eating disorder at the height of his One Direction fame and consistent difficulties with anxiety, they’re often revelations that feel accidental in nature. We learn of them during an unexpected moment of truth-telling between him and a journalist, the subject quickly changed soon after, or through lyrics that are just descriptive enough to imply deep truths. Even talking about his anxiety in an essay for Time Magazine felt like a necessary course-correction after a string of cancelled gigs led to unflattering rumours about his health in the press.

Whether Malik’s public persona is intended as a protective mask or not, it is still difficult, particularly in the wake of Icarus Falls, not to feel something for him. After all, his jump from a working-class kid to an international superstar worth a reported $50 million, practically overnight, is the sort of trajectory most of us would struggle with at the age of 40, let alone at 17 when Malik auditioned for The X Factor.

Icarus Falls doesn’t cover any new sonic ground for Malik as an artist. It sees him return to the same well of threadbare, silky R&B that helped Mind of Mine easily trounce his fellow One Direction bandmates in the “best first solo record” stakes. But it does whirr with a noticeable sadness, Malik repeatedly mourns the peace of his pre-X Factor past and beats himself up for mistakes he feels that he’s made since. And when he speaks of emotional pain, it often sounds not like something confined to history, but rather something he’s dealing with every day.

“I’d rather be anywhere but here,” he sings on Good Years. “I close my eyes and see a crowd of a thousand tears / I pray to God I didn’t waste all my good years.” On Insomnia: “I’ve been roaming and strolling all in the streets / Burning my eyes red, not slept for weeks.” On Back to Life: “I been flying so long / Can’t remember what it was like to be sober.” On Satisfaction: “Nobody said this would be easy / Nobody gave me a rule book to follow.”

Even typical love songs are fatalistic in nature, talk of Armageddon running through both Flight of the Stars (“I will follow / Hold you close standing on the edge of no tomorrow”) and Tonight (“Love me like tomorrow’s never gonna come”), while much of the album nods to an unnamed great love in Malik’s life that he needs to overcome incredible odds to be with – nothing new for love songs, but given a greater weight when paired with his statements over the years. Because if we know anything about Zayn Malik, it’s that he often can’t stand being Zayn Malik.

Through much of the little press he has done, Malik has expressed unease with most of the trappings of fame, particularly the assumptions that he ought to be personable and friendly with industry figures or musical collaborators. And when it comes to One Direction, he still appears burnt by the experience. While he told Vogue in November that he has recently been able to see his time with the band as “an amazing experience,” despite the “bulls---” of what he refers to as “the machine,” he also told GQ in June that he didn’t make any actual friends during the peak of his fame: “I definitely have issues trusting people.”

In the numerous articles that pop up every winter recalling how good The X Factor used to be, clips are embedded that showcase many of its most memorable contestants, and every year it becomes that bit more shocking how much One Direction looked like children during their time on the show. The scrawny limbs, those Justin Bieber haircuts, the awkward school-talent-show bopping and shuffling. It somehow worked, enough at least to turn them into a tween phenomenon, but in hindsight it’s indefensible that they were pushed as significantly as they were.

There was always something deer-in-the-headlights about the band in its early days, a sense that at least a few of them had been pulled along for the ride as opposed to having a firm grip on the steering wheel. The hunger so visible in pop bands of similar notoriety, whether manufactured or not, wasn’t always visible – and while all of them have transitioned into stable adults who are, for the most part, comfortable in the spotlight, their jarringly different responses to fame remain clear.

It’s important to remember, for context’s sake, that Malik was always a reluctant star. Only attending his original X Factor audition after being guilted by his mother into waking up early and making the journey there, he was, in his own words to The Fader, “a lazy teen”. And even during the audition stages, he expressed reluctance to properly join in, walking off stage during a choreography rehearsal and having to be coaxed to go back. At the time, Malik’s reaction registered as a petulant strop, but now feels oddly prescient.

Of Malik’s One Direction bandmates, Harry Styles was always the most naturally inclined to superstardom – such an affable schmoozer and networker that it was quickly no longer surprising to see images of him palling around with Mick Jagger or Stevie Nicks. Liam Payne always bore the personality of someone very eager to be seen, lack of self-awareness very much included, while the perpetually chipper Niall Horan has always simply appeared very, very happy to be there. But both Malik and Louis Tomlinson have often visibly struggled, uninspired by the more performative and fraudulent elements of celebrity, or the levels of attention handed to them by Simon Cowell and co.

“What I really can’t ever get used to, or really enjoy, are these super geared-up celebrity parties,” Tomlinson told Noisey last year. “No one actually cares. You see people who are beyond self-absorbed, and that’s why it can be a dangerous place.”

Malik has echoed similar sentiments. “I don’t work well in group situations, with loads of people staring at me,” he told GQ. “And when you say ‘star’… everyone wants you to be this kind of character that owns a room or is overly arrogant or confident. I’m not that guy, so I don’t want to be a star.”

What’s odd is that, for all his claims, Malik does bear all the superficial trappings of modern stardom. He’s a fashion darling but is permanently magnetised to the covers of cool indie magazines. Furthermore, his on-again/off-again relationship with supermodel Gigi Hadid has, since 2015, become a Generation Z equivalent of Johnny Depp and Winona Ryder in its aesthetic-heavy, era-defining popularity.

But Malik is also simultaneously detached. The GQ profile, his most extensive recent interview, bears all the hallmarks of a journalist struggling to fulfil a word count because of an uncommunicative subject, writer Carrie Battan even expresses Malik’s tendency to reply to her questions in “friendly but anodyne one-liners.” Like the very best of pop idols, from Britney to Beyoncé, Malik is so compelling principally because he’s so hard to read. But this can also be a poisoned chalice: every expression of doubt or self-pity determined to be a cry for help, every revelation shaping an image that may or may not be real.

It means that listening to Icarus Falls isn’t an entirely joyous experience, Malik’s lyrics painting a picture of a young man still working through the discomfort of his sudden fame and the trauma of a moment in the spotlight marred by illness and fractured relationships, many of its scars still visible today. But it’s also a record that you can’t help but admire as a result, especially if it serves as a form of catharsis for him.

In the decade since Britney Spears was forcibly taken to the hospital surrounded by hundreds of paparazzi photographers, our collective relationship with the idea of fame has greatly altered, particularly for a generation who watched Amy Winehouse essentially die before their eyes. The one beneath them are currently coming to terms with a raft of recent pop star crises, from Demi Lovato’s overdose to the deaths of artists like Mac Miller and Lil Peep.

For all the obvious charms in Malik’s life, from his incredible fortune to a kind of artistic freedom that he never had in One Direction, you’d have to be particularly cold not to feel empathy for the sheer strangeness of his adult existence; a world of rampant, maddening attention that has historically led even the strongest of stars into tragedy.

The Zayn Malik of today is a little bruised, a little listless, his magazine profiles never complete without references to the cloud of marijuana smoke that lingers around him, or his need to lock himself away from the world. It doesn’t sound like the most ideal of outcomes for a man who calls himself a pop idol Icarus and sings with whispery detachment that he has “[flown] too close to the sun.” But we can only hope that it at least serves as a parachute.