#the tragedy of his life makes me cry every single time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

f1amour · 3 months ago

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✧˚ · . 𝐒𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆, 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐍

pairing: lewis hamilton x reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 27 lewis is 39), italics are flashbacks, angst. no happy ending

authors note: not spell checked sorryyy. based off this request. heavily inspired by the song so long, london. hope you all enjoy this fic and cry as much as i did writing it <3

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So (So) long (Long), London (London)

“Flight 444 from London to Mexico City will begin boarding in ten minutes please have your passports and tickets ready.”

Even a number reminded you of him. It was good you’ll be leaving this place that reminded you so much of him. You didn’t want to leave but you had to.

“I just don’t understand why you didn’t come to me and talk about it. You said you’d retire with Mercedes then we would start a family. Now I’m finding out through social media that you signed with Ferrari for 2025?” You call after Lewis who had walked into the house with you standing in the living room with a pissed off look on your face.

“I don’t understand why I need to discuss that with you. It’s my career not yours, you don’t have one.” He says and immediately regrets it.

“Because I gave it up for you! To be the happy and proud girlfriend who went to every race and stays behind the cameras. The one you go home with. The one who supports you through every thing. Who celebrates your big wins and the smallest ones. I’m not taking this disrespect from you, Lewis.”

I saw in my mind fairy lights through the mist

I kept calm and carried the weight of the rift

Pulled him in tighter each time he was driftin' away

My spine split from carrying us up the hill

Wet through my clothes, weary bones caught the chill

I stopped tryna make him laugh, stopped tryna drill the safe

Lewis had convinced you to give him a year with Ferrari and after you two would get engaged and have your family like you both always wanted.

He still had the 2024 season with Mercedes and was going to make the most of it. You stopped going to every single race deciding to stay home and figure out what you’d be doing with your career. You had met lewis when you were 22 and he was 33. The age difference didn’t bother you but you never thought it would actually get in the way.

It was the opposite as most age gaps are discussed the older one wants a family by now and the younger one still wants to make a life for themselves before having a family.

You were ready for the next step you wanted to marry Lewis after five years together but he was still focused on his career and trying for his 8th championship title.

“I’m gonna be late. I’ve got a meeting with the team and I don’t know how long we will be.” You read the text message from Lewis and sigh deciding to get out of your dress and into some comfortable clothes.

Your usual date nights you had at least one time a week had dissipated to almost none at all. Even when it would be long distance you’d have face time dates with Lewis but recently it’s just been distant with rarely any calls or texts.

You weren’t sure if you could keep going on like this.

Thinkin', "How much sad did you think I had. Did you think I had in me?"

Oh, the tragedy

So long, London

You'll find someone

Ticket purchased for Heathrow airport to Mexico City April 18th, 2024. One way.

You had decided it was now or never to leave the relationship. You loved Lewis but feeling like a second choice was no longer the healthy thing in your life. You’ve felt so unloved for awhile now that it was messing with your mental health.

London was your home for so long. He was your home for so long. But it was time to say goodbye.

I didn't opt in to be your odd man out

I founded the club she's heard great things about

I left all I knew, you left me at the house by the Heath

I stoppеd CPR, after all, it's no use

The spirit was gonе, we would never come to

And I'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free

“I’m a bit confused…why am I dropping you off at the airport? I don’t have to leave until a few more days.” Lewis says pulling into the private parking lot.

You get out of the car and grab your suitcases out of the trunk with his help, “I’m done, Lewis. I’m done waiting for you. I’m done being the second choice.”

“No, no, no. You cant do this, y/n!” He shakes his head while you let one of the airline workers grab your suitcases.

“I can do this actually. Just like you can decide our future for the both of us I can break up with you. I’m 27 years old, Lewis. I want to marry you. I want to have your children. I want to support you at every race while being the supportive wife. I’m so in love with you that I would give up everything including my career to make you happy.” You look at him, sadness in your eyes.

It was a realization you both were finally coming to terms with…it wasn’t a healthy relationship anymore. To give someone hopes of a family and marriage one day that may never happens wasn’t right. And to give up your career for him didn’t settle right with him either.

It was the end now.

“I’m so sorry, my love.” He whispers wiping your tears away but they just keep on flowing.

“I’m sorry too. For believing you everytime. I gave up most of my 20’s for you. I gave up the time where I should be enjoying my life and figuring out what I want to do with my career. But I blame myself too because I was so in love that I would look past all our flaws.”

For so long, London

Stitches undone

Two graves, one gun

I'll find someone

“We’ve done so much good for each other. The last few months haven’t been the best but you gave me some amazing years filled with love. I won’t ever forget that.” You tell Lewis kissing his cheek.

His eyes know welled up with tears, “I love you. I know I didn’t show it enough lately but I love you. I always will.”

It was sad to think of but Lewis was your first love.

But you would be his last.

And you say I abandoned the ship

But I was going down with it

My white-knuckle dying grip

Holding tight to your quiet resentment

And my friends said it isn't right to be scared

Every day of a love affair

Every breath feels like rarest air

When you're not sure if he wants to be there

THREE MONTHS LATER.

“Eight times we’ve said it before, here’s a ninth for you. Lewis Hamilton wins the British Grand Prix!” The crew you were with cheer watching the race while you sit there with little to no emotion in your eyes. It was nothing out of the ordinary for them seeing as you told them you didn’t know much about the sport and had no interest in it (all lies).

They had known you for three months now and for that time they have seen you only smile for guests who were on board and when they weren’t you didn’t show much emotion.

They loved your personality when you would show it at times so they assumed it was just some personal problems at home that had you so sad sometimes.

He had finally won after two years of no wins and he had done it in his home. A home that was once yours.

You wanted to cry and shout for him but you felt nothing, your soul had been so empty since leaving him. You hated him for it.

So how much sad did you think I had

Did you think I had in me?

How much tragedy?

Just how low did you

Think I'd go 'fore I'd self-implode?

'Fore I'd have to go be free?

“So we’ve got some guests coming on board later on today they’ll be here for three days. The primary is very well known I am told to not disclose his name until they are here so please as always treat our guests as usual and minding for autographs.” Your captain tells everyone and they all nod in agreement but then start conversing with each other about who it could be.

You were just ready to get back to work and not hear about Lewis’s win for the 100th time today.

It was time to welcome the guests on board and while the crew waits as they walk on board you can’t help but feel some nerves which you never get while on the job.

And as they all come in you realize why you were feeling that way as Lewis now stands right in front of you followed by a group of people (half of them models) which you’d never met before.

You give your fakest smile to them all shaking their hands until it comes to Lewis, your hand only lingers on his for a quick second before you pull away.

One of the models clings on him while you show them around the yacht.

Was it so easy for him to move on? Did he ever really love you?

You swore that you loved me, but where were the clues?

I died on the altar waitin' for the proof

You sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days

And I'm just getting color back into my face

I'm just mad as hell 'cause I loved this place for

It had been a day with Lewis and his friend on board and you’ve successfully been able to avoid being in a room alone with him. He was shocked how much you’d change in just a short amount of time.

Your eyes no longer holding any emotion in them. Your smile now only held up when attending to guests. You were a completely new person. He wasn’t sure if it was for better or worse.

You’d been setting up the dinner table when you freeze smelling the familiar cologne you’d gotten so used to for five years.

“How did you find me?” You turn to Lewis, him knowing exactly what you meant by the question. He had all the money in the world and chose to travel to Mexico to enjoy his break? His own yacht sitting in Monaco but he chose to go on a different one?

“I…I hired someone to find you. I needed to see how you were doing and you weren’t answering my messages, y/n. What happened? You changed.”

“I changed? Fucking hell I mean what do you think? The person I thought I would marry and grow old with refused to show me any commitment. He failed to love me the last few months we were together. I gave up a career I loved for him and now I’m here attending to other people and their needs…it’s like I never got out of our relationship the way I care for others but myself.” You chuckle, your eyes no longer filled with tears as they usually would have by now.

You felt nothing but at the same time felt everything looking at him.

So (So) long (Long), London (London)

Had (Had) a (A) good (Good) run (Run)

A moment (Moment) of warm sun (Sun)

But I'm (I'm) not (Not) the (The) one (One)

So (So) long (Long), London (London)

Stitches (Stitches) undone (Undone)

Two (Two) graves (Graves) one gun (Gun)

You'll (You'll) find (Find) someone

“I’m not gonna tell you this again but please let me go. I need you to let me go because if I stare at you any longer I will go back. I’ll be yours again. But I’m already lost enough within myself, Lewis. I’ll be okay one day it’s going to take time but I’m grieving. I’m grieving us. Our dreams. You. I’m learning how to live again and it’s not easy but I’ll be okay. But you need to let me go. Please just do that for me?” You beg him. You’d be on your knees begging just so this pain in your heart would finally leave. You loved him so much it hurt but the stars weren’t aligned for both of you.

“Maybe in another life we could have made it?” Lewis says, his hand on your cheek.

You lean into his touch knowing it would be the last time you’d feel him close, “In another life.” You whisper quietly where he barely heard it.

Why not in this life?

#f1 amour works #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton angst #lewis hamilton one shot

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hyperblue · 5 months ago

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as much as i enjoy the thought of kon immediately taking on fatherhood and confessing his feelings to tim in timkon clone baby aus, i can't help but think about all the potential for a slowburn that we can have, such as:

— making a deep dive into kon's view of the situation, exploring his clone feeling about himself, exploring his feelings about clark in particular — because their relationship is very interesting and complicated on it's own, and the biggest tragedy of it, in my opinion, is that kon was never clark's responsibility, in fact there was never a single adult person that had to take care of kon because kon initially never belonged to anyone. he's no one's child, no one's son, and us much as we might want to blame clark or, you know, any adult in his life for not taking care of him and protecting him, they had their right not to do it. someone should have had care, but also no one was obligated to. i really hope i make sense, what I'm trying to convey is that you really can't blame anyone for kon being unsupervised for most of his life no matter how much you might want too (aside from lex luther and cadmus itself ofc, but that would be a slightly different conversion); and kon knows that himself, has known that for a while, but the moment he's confronted by his own clone child it adds so much more perspective, and the conflict of once (still) being a child that no one wanted while simultaneously being introduced to a child that you don't have to want but if not you no one else will (tim will, but tim's also a slightly different conversation) would be so interesting and delicious;

— LOTS of awkward co-parenting from two teen-dads who might or might not be head over heels for each other but also not really having time to explore their relationship and their feelings bc they have a whole ass child to raise; not to mention kon's conflicted clone boy feelings and tim's haunting guilt that affect every single interaction of theirs. just imagine the pressure, the slowburn, the ust. imagine them knowing about each other feelings, but also knowing that it's not the right time — there might never be the right time anymore, not after what tim has done. imagine them negotiating visiting hours and weekends like they're some divorced couple. imagine them swinging their child between them on a walk home, imagine kon showing up early at tim's penthouse with fresh ingredients from the farm to make healthy breakfast, imagine tim dosing off on kon's shoulder while watching old disney movies with their kid right there on the carpet in front of a tv; playing house, but knowing damn well that they are not together. that they might never be together;

— clone baby getting used to this strange family dynamic that they have — knowing that kon is their other dad, but never ever calling him that (they have no memory of calling him pa! when they were much younger, no memory of kon crying and kissing their forehead right after; no memory of tim becoming really pale and then gently teaching them that kon is not pa, or papa, or dad, he is just kon, only even just kon); knowing that daddy loves kon, but for some reason that's something that they never talk about, and the kid is too afraid to ask because he knows that he'll hurt his dad if he does. fighting with tim and then crying because they want their other dad, but tim tells not to bother kon, as if kon might secretly hate them, and then hearing tim and kon having a fight from upstairs, stop acting like I'm going to flee any second, it's been literal years, when are you going to believe me when i say that i LOVE our child;

— tim trying his best to be a good parent and co-parent but still screwing up anyways because he's too trapped in his own guilt and insecurities; accidentally hurting both kon and their child by not wanting to hurt them, trying to distance them from each other when things are starting to get good, because they are not supposed to be good, tim does not deserve things to be good. shying away from kon's most innocent touches, refusing his child traditional summer vacation on kent's farm because he can feel his baby starting to prefer kon over him, and that's something that he doesn't know what to do with, all he knows is that he can't lose his baby not even to the love of his life. fighting with kon a lot, going they are MINE, stop pretending that you want them or care for them just to take them away from me, they are the only thing in the world that i love more than you;

— and then finally sorting things out after years, confessing their feelings, talking about every single insecurity that they both had about this situation; holding hands across kitchen table after crying their eyes out, and deciding to try it. restoring the friendship they almost lost somewhere along the way while trying to be a good parents for their baby — exchanging text that are not just visiting hours negotiations, awkwardly flirting like they are teenagers again, brushing each other shoulders and hands and sitting a little too close on a couch; getting to go on dates, getting to feel giddy and young about each other again, falling in bed together and getting to wake up from a sound of their kid destroying the kitchen, our child is hungry by the way, we should probably start getting out of bed. our child? yeah. our child.

idk man i just love the potential and complexity of it all. so many things to do with au, it really is an endless sandbox to play in

#timkon clone baby #timkon clone baby au #timkon #tim drake #red robin #kon el #conner kent #superboy #dc #dc comics

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fanon-canon-idfk · 1 year ago

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(This story takes place through the dark era, Dazai’s time in hiding, and ADA)

Genre: angst to fluff

Dazai Osamu x Male Reader

Dazai was your boyfriend in the simplest terms. He loved you with all he could, even when his abilities to express so were lacking.

You could tell when he was expressing his love, you had gotten used to how your lover worked and accepted him in full.

As your superior, he would always send you on less risky missions if he had a choice. If he didn’t, he would assign you a whole team of strong and intelligent mafia members.

He loved you more than anything, and you loved him just as much.

You were his rock, his protector, and his weak spot.

Of course at this time, the Great Demon Prodigy wasn’t exactly crying in your arms, but you were who he could lay against on every hard day when his mind was particularly persistent.

Then tragedy truly struck.

One of yours and Osamu’s close friends, Odasaku, had not only passed away, but Dazai himself disappeared without a word.

The love of your life,

The boy you relied on,

The boy you kept warm in his shipping container,

Your boyfriend,

He left without a single word. Not even a goodbye.

To say you were hurt would be beyond an understatement. You were broken.

You gave so much of your life, your soul, your heart, all to this singular boy and he didn’t even say goodbye or tell you where he was?!

You also got home that night to a smashed phone and all remnants of data carrying his phone number or messages, etc!

To make matters worse, Mori didn’t let you have a single day off. Constantly interrogating you, having people watch you, all to guarantee you had no knowledge on Dazai.

It took several months, but finally the entirety of the mafia was off your ass.

You were burnt out, barely walking your way home after you were let off your shift and allowed a day off (credit to Chuuya convincing Mori for you).

You finally reached your apartment. After locking your door, you staggered straight to your bedroom and plopped right onto your bed. You passed out immediately.

You woke up at around 2 AM to the sound of shuffling in your bedroom. Originally having passed it off as nothing, you didn’t bother to open your eyes as you let yourself drift back to sleep.

Then you felt a presence pressing down on your mattress right in front of you. Right as you felt their arm snake around your shoulder you shot up, smacking their arm away and ready to defend yourself.

As you grabbed the blade in your pocket and opened your eyes however, you were met with sight and sound of a familiar presence.

“M/N! Wait, wait! Hey, hey, relax, it’s me! It’s just me..” Dazai reassured you. That’s right. Dazai.

Technically-but-not-really-because-there-was-no-breakup ex boyfriend, Dazai.

Dazai, who left you behind.

Honestly, you weren’t too sure if learning it was him made you want to stab him any less.

After a while of tense silence, Dazai suddenly grabbed the sides of your face, attempting to pull you in for a desperate kiss.

Right as your lips were about to touch one another’s, you pushed him back from you, making him have to quickly catch himself before he fell right off the bed.

“What the hell are you doing here?! Do you have any clue what they’ll do to you if they find you here? What they’ll do to me?!” You shouted.

“I’ve missed you..” he looked at you pitifully, a smile still being forced onto his face. Dazai attempted to get closer to you again, but stopped himself when you held a hand out as a signal to stay where he is.

You placed the blade in your hand down on your bed, getting up and facing away from him. You scattered through your brain as you ran your hands through your hair in frustration.

He didn’t say a word, just silently watching you pace around your room.

You took a deep breath, settling your anger and hurt for a moment.

“So.. you’re not wearing your face bandages anymore.. or?” You asked casually, without turning around. You still couldn’t bare to look at him right now.

He didn’t answer your question, but chuckled at your casual talk. He felt a light warmth in his chest, happy to finally have someone treat him the same as always.

“You can stay in my room tonight..” his eyes lit up, “I’ll be on the couch..” and then his heart sank.

“What..?” He questioned weakly. “You’re here for a place to sleep, right? That much you’ll get from me.. but I- I can’t sleep here.” You explained, beginning to walk out of the room.

He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t lose you again. He couldn’t stand being alone anymore.

He acted purely on emotion, leaping off the bed and gripping your torso like a vice.

“What the-?” You were cut off,

“Please.. I don’t want to be alone anymore.. I promise, I’ll explain everything… please.. I’m sorry, M/N..” He begged you, his hold on you never faltering.

You finally looked down at him. He was crumbled to his knees, gripping onto your dress shirt like you would disappear any second, forehead pressed against your back.

God, everything about this sight pained you beyond belief.

You couldn’t stand to see him like this, even after everything.

So you kneeled down to his level, scooped him up in your arms, and brought him back to your bed, sitting beside him.

Just as he promised, he explained everything. What happened to Odasaku, why he had to leave, why he had to cut you off. Everything.

By the end of it all, you were back where you both were used to being; him with his head in your chest, your arms wrapped around his body, the both of you together.

You fell asleep together, just like before. You were finally at peace, and so was he.

In the morning, you woke up alone. You almost thought you dreamed it all, that was until you saw a napkin with writing on it.

On it was Dazai’s handwriting, and it said:

“M/N, please wait for me. I promise, I’ll be back and we’ll be together again. Right now, I need to stay in hiding, and most importantly, keep you out of it. I’ll find you.

I love you.

Love, yours truly.

PS: I had your last frozen waffle, sorry. <3”

Despite the ache returning to your heart, you chuckled.

You’d miss him like hell, and he’d definitely have to make it up to you, but you knew he’d return to you.

So you waited.

4 years later, he turned up on your doorstep.

A 4 year recap and some serious apologizing later, and Dazai was back where he was before. He was in your arms again.

After you two got back to where you left off, you were introduced to the new people in his life.

You were happy for Osamu; he’d finally found a community that accepted him and cared for him. He wasn’t isolated anymore.

After the dust finally settled between the mafia and the agency, you didn’t hesitate to slip a ring on that pretty little finger of his.

Osamu was now your beautiful husband, and you both couldn’t be happier.

After all, with that ring on his finger, nothing but death could part you again.

#male reader #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd scenarios #bungou stray dogs scenarios #top male reader #dom male reader #bsd x male reader #dazai osamu #male reader blog #dazai osamu x male reader #sub dazai #sub bsd #bungou stray dogs x male reader

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cum-a-calla · 4 months ago

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i went a little insane on this Jack Delroy tidbit (is it still a tidbit if it’s 4800 words? get back to me on that)

Jack Delroy visits a diner in the middle of the night to wind down. He has very little in the way of expectations in the midst of fighting his own demons, but one thing he doesn’t expect is meeting a starstruck waitress that forces him to truly reckon with his urges.

under the cut: the lightest touch of dubcon, rough PIV fucking, fingerfucking, oral sex, public fucking, internal misery, and the suggestion of possession.

…

The late-night circuit is taking its toll on Jack.

It’s not so much the show - he lives to host, lives to act and react, lives to hype up his guests, to engage the audience. Genuinely enjoys the silly little skits they do. It’s living a dream, being in front of the camera and feeling that very specific, special feeling - not quite acting, not quite being himself. It’s less a façade and more a specific side of him - just a sliver of Jack, a flavor. A taste.

It’s not even really the late-night circuit, is it?

Ever since - …since, Jack’s been off. And why wouldn’t he be? The loss, the never-ending grind, the… the events that precluded this loss. The carving out of something inside of him, and to that end, when did that start? When the ratings fell? When Minnie did? When everything between those two massive events in his life took place? That secret in-between time, the woods, the eerie hooting in the trees, the costumes; God, the costumes had been so hack. He’d come so willingly, veins sluiced with booze, laughing, jeering with the rest of them. Until… until they weren’t.

Until he was kneeling in the pine needles, feeling them crunch under his knees, and had he ever paid so much attention to his surroundings? Had he ever stopped and noticed how it smelled in the forest? Perhaps not until then. Green, thick, heady. The sound of flapping wings, the whispers of his cohorts in the night. The metallic taste in the cup. Feeling something so unlike anything else, coursing through him, and wasn’t it so easy to chalk it up to nothing? It was easier. It was easier.

And then… and then.

It had been a time between sweet Minnie’s passing and his almost-reluctant return. But how long can tragedy keep you from your ultimate calling? There can only be so many mornings, noons and nights spent in a stupor, crying, vomiting, drinking, drugging. Only so much time avoiding every single part of your life, your livelihood. And what an unfair thing, to neglect one love of your life for the loss of another; Minnie’s face, her voice, she still lives in the back of his brain like an aneurysm. Capable of taking him completely out at any given moment.

And so the meetings in the Grove certainly helped, and perhaps did not at all. Before, after - what difference does time make, anyway? Minnie’s passing feels at once a hundred years in the past as well as five minutes ago. Time. Distortion is the only thing Jack knows anymore. There is only his life as the leading Night Owl and his life as Jack, and what in the fuck does that mean anymore unless he masks it with whatever else he can get his hands on?

His hands.

They tremble a little on the table, slid into a booth at a local diner. It’s a perfect imagining of a fifties spot, the plush, scuffed seats, the ridiculous outfits the largely female staff are wearing - the modest skirts, the aprons. The little notebook balanced against his waitress’s arm as she glides dutifully to his table.

“Evening,” she begins, glancing at him for barely a second before flipping a page. “Or - well, I guess it’s more like… good morning, right?” She laughs a gentle little laugh and it tugs at him, somehow. He watches her as he sweats, resisting the urge to wipe at his damp hairline. It’s been a fucking night.

“Evening and good morning to you, young lady,” he responds. Always genteel, always On.

She glances at him again and it’s a classic double-take. Eyes a little wider, she shifts in place and stares at her notebook, making every effort to conceal her recognition. Jack’s seen this look hundreds, thousands of times, so used to it that he can only smile warmly in return. The price of fame, but also the pleasure. She’s turning pink in the cheeks and it’s endearing, the way it lights her freckles up, the way it makes her squirm in place. Jack is charmed. He’s used to all ranges of attention - clamoring women, shy women, forward men. He takes it all in stride, but it’s the shy ones that get him. Demure, unsure. Something in his gut twists, and he waits politely for her to organize her thoughts before he says anything else.

“Th-thank you,” she stammers, blushing. “I… I know you must uh, get this a lot, but… you look like somebody,” she hints. She flicks her eyes from her notepad to Jack’s own eyes, guarded, giddily scared.

“I do get that a lot,” he says warmly. He drops her a quick, clever wink. “You’re clearly up late enough to know for sure, considering.”

She lifts the pad and covers her mouth with it, making an adorable, almost-silent squeal of excitement. The tips of her ears are burning, she’s so flustered. Jack can’t help but grin, laughing at her genuine and unbridled reaction.

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry, I’m being so dumb! I just - I love you,” she gushes, and the words tumbling from her lips embarrass her even further as she cringes at herself. Absolutely gorgeous - Jack can’t help but run his eyes quickly along the line of her body, noting the curve of her waist, the length of her legs. The hint of bare thigh under her skirt. “I’m such a fan. I know everybody must say that, I.. wow, I’ve never met somebody famous before. Especially not somebody I’m such a big fan of.”

“That’s incredibly sweet. Must be my lucky night, being waited on by such a lovely fan,” he flirts. The dark twist in his pelvis keeps him eyeing her, and he’s forced to take the linen napkin on the table and blot at his forehead. “Excuse me - been a long, long night.”

“I bet,” she says. “I imagine you’re constantly busy. Mister Delroy, I’m so sorry for keeping you waiting - what can I get you?”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. Just a… a black coffee will do me for now.”

She nods and the woman scurries away, glowing with excitement. It’s just one of the many perks, the hoards of beautiful women that lose themselves in his presence. The power there. Jack is easy, kind - hearted. He has no need for applause, not in the way you’d assume - he lives to be enjoyed, lives to be an entertainment, sure. But the drive isn’t for the droves of people begging to worship him - and isn’t that cliché? Isn’t that just something a famous, rich asshole would say, or convince himself of?

But it rings true. All he wanted - all he wants, all he sacrificed for -

All he sacrificed for… is to be needed.

The girl comes back with his coffee, placing it down on top of a napkin in an oversized, chipped mug. Jack smiles warmly at her and winks again, watching her thighs under her skirt as she hurries away again. It’s cute, really. It’s heartening in a way, but mostly… it stirs. Jack forcibly turns his head and stares down at the scratched formica tabletop, coffee steaming. A single drop trails its way down the cup and stains the napkin, bleeding through to the table. In the low of his gut, in the back of his brain, a whisper begins. He sweats - he’s always sweating these days. The cocaine, the alcohol, the various other substances he blinds himself with… and -

And…

The… thing. The thing that makes his belly hot, the thing that turns his cock hard even when he least expects it. It’s like a black, swirling possession over him; it’s the only thing that he doesn’t need a substance for, but a substance against. It’s not a drunkenness, not a high - it’s something else entirely, a tingling, pervasive kind of darkness.

It’s been easy to overcome it most of the time…

Most of the time.

It gets harder every day, little by little. What makes it really hard is when he finds a person, a thing, a place, a situation - something that makes his fucking balls ache, something that fills him to the throat with blackness, with need, and he follows. It’s all part of it. Resisting makes him… not himself. Giving in makes him not himself. Where the line between who he thinks he is and who he is now has been blurred, irrevocably lost in the dust of things, impossible to decipher. The ruins of his life have been buried so many ways in such a short amount of time. He looks in the mirror and it’s a miracle to recognize himself anymore. He rakes his fingers through his hair, straightens the lapels on his suit jacket. It’s hot. He takes the napkin, blots his sweat once more.

He stares serenely out the window at the darkened sky. Stars are out, now, piercing through all that velvety blue-black, like freckles, like pinholes embedded in some luxurious cloth. He checks his watch - just about a quarter to three in the morning, and not even a wink of an urge to sleep. Nothing satiates, nothing helps him rest. Constantly on the hamster wheel, doing his little dance.

“Mister Delroy - I, uh - well - I know you just ordered the coffee, but… we had some extra things, so… I just thought - in case you were hungry… On the house, of course.”

Jack turns to the waitress as she carries a plate to him, steaming with all kinds of fixings - hashbrowns, eggs, bacon, toast. She toes her shoe on the floor, and again he steals a look at the little bit of exposed thigh, the way she nervously straightens the apron affixed to the front of her uniform dress. He smiles up at her and there’s a whisper in the back of his mind - he watches her struggle to try to look away, but she can’t. He indulges her in her sweet gaze, refusing to break eye contact just to see what she does. She squirms a little, pleasantly so - her pupils dilate, flicker from his mouth back to his eyes. Trying not to be obvious. It makes him laugh a little, a hum under his breath as he takes a sip of his coffee.

“Thank you very much, dear. You sure know how to take care of a tired man.”

She looks at the floor, smiles so big. She ducks under the length of her hair but it does nothing to dull the sheer delight making her face glow so. Jack wants to grab her by the hips - a line of racing thoughts boil his blood, stir his cock as he sits. Thinking about her lips on him, the warmth of her mouth, his fingers digging into her. Stop. Not now. Please. Fighting the urges, the impulses.

“Anything for you, Mister Delroy.”

He almost winces, dick jumping in his slacks. God, she’s adorable. There’s an almost coquettish quality to the way she looks up at him again, under her lashes, hands clasped chastely behind her back. She licks her lips and he feels suddenly so, so feral. He can almost taste her by power of thought alone.

“Jack is fine… I insist.” He reaches out and takes her hand. Her fingers tremble the slightest bit and it sets his soul on fucking fire. He brings her soft hand to his lips and kisses her tenderly on the knuckles, resisting the urge to take her fingers into his mouth, to gently bite on the tips of them. He imagines pushing his own fingers between her pink lips and feeling her tongue, reaching back toward her throat until she’s teary-eyed. He watches her as she exhales, shaky. Uncertain. Absolutely excited.

“Jack,” she parrots under her soft breath. “Jack it is, then.”

As she hurries back behind the counter, fielding some of the other late night owls in the restaurant, he contemplates what exactly brought him here. Why the cocaine never jumps him the way it used to, at the beginning. Before the - the… gathering. Why the booze doesn’t calm him the way it used to. Why nothing works, why nothing can settle the hot, despicable urges, the constant crawling underneath his own flesh.

He spends the better part of the next hour switching between gazing out the window, sipping his coffee (and then another, and then another) and picking at his plate, forcing himself to chew the food, to taste it, to appreciate his server’s gift. It does nothing to satiate him. He can barely feel hunger these days - it’s just going through the motions.

Minnie used to make a killer breakfast. On lazy weekends, while he slept off a hangover, and -

He pushes those thoughts away.

3:55 A.M.

The cute waitress comes around again and seems pleasantly surprised to keep finding him here, alone, lingering. Is he lingering? Why is he still here? He should be trying to sleep everything off, getting at least a snatch of shut-eye before another busy day tomorrow trying to up his ratings. There’s a very special show in the works - still in the idea phase, still scouting for a story, but… it’s shaping. Things are rolling, building up. The smart thing to do would be to pay his bill and catch a cab to his hotel room so he can rest fitfully for a few hours.

He asks for the bill and she swallows her own crestfallen feelings as she turns to retrieve it for him. He glances at it, pulls bills from his cracked leather bifold and tips her so generously that her eyes almost bug out of her head. She begins to refuse his tip and he rises from his seat, shushing her. He towers over here and she has no choice but to gaze up at him, like the very length of him is hypnotizing. The shared hunger. He can feel it like electricity, and for a split second they’re so close to each other that he could hook his hand behind the curve of her skull and pull her into a kiss. There’s zero doubt she would give it to him.

Instead, he grasps her shoulder and gives her a light squeeze.

“Thank you for a delightful breakfast - or dinner. Whatever is appropriate for this time of night,” he jokes.

She smiles, beaming at him like he’s the sun and she can do nothing more but bask in his light. “Of course, Mister Del - er, of course, Jack. It was such a pleasure to meet you. A dream.”

“I’m flattered,” he says, and he means it. That’s one thing about his job, and about protecting the shreds of humility he still has left - he always means it. There is nothing more intoxicating, nothing more rewarding than meeting a person who lights up at his very presence. Isn’t that what it’s all about? Touching somebody in such a profound way that brings a little joy, a little entertainment? “The pleasure’s all mine.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true.” Her voice is low, quiet and sweet. He stoops just slightly to catch it, that dark little voice tickles the back of his brain as he finds himself just a touch closer to her, and he swallows against the urge again to crush her against him, to sip her breath into his lungs and feel her tongue against his. Her eyes glitter in the old, yellowed lights of the diner. He, the Jack Delroy, finds himself utterly speechless and hanging on to her silence like a life raft, awash in his own deafening desire. “I’ll never forget this night, Jack.”

He’s the one basking, now, wondering what her feverish cheek might feel like against his, what other parts of her might feel just as hot, just as deliriously pink and warm against his own flesh. He summons a graceful smile, but it comes out as more of a gentle smirk, a huff of a laugh. Since when does Jack get nervous?

She waits and he regains control of himself, running his fingers through his hair and swiping the back of his hand across his damp hairline, straightening up, taking a deep breath.

“I’m sure I won’t be forgetting this night any time soon, myself,” he jokes. She’s delighted, practically vibrating in place. He can almost smell her, her sweat. Some delicate kind of perfume or soap.

He makes his way outside and waves at her as she returns behind the counter, scurrying into the kitchens - he imagines her in there pressing her hands to her own cheeks, shaking out her adrenaline and excitement. It’s endearing. It sets him on fire.

There are a line of pay phones outside of the restaurant, and he steps into one and lights a cigarette, flipping through the pages to find a cab service. He finds himself eyeing the building, seeing if he can see her through the windows as she continues serving. Mere glimpses - he sees her flit back and forth a little, remaining largely out of his view.

He closes the abused phone book and drops it to hang on its heavy chain, the pages nearly in tatters by years and years of use. He exits the booth without having so much as put any coins into the slot, opting instead to walk across the parking lot. He glances at his watch - 4:14 A.M. He seats himself on a cement block at the edge of the lot, finishing his cigarette just to light up another one directly after. God, he could really use a scotch or two - not that it would help any.

Minutes tick by and he waits. He rubs his sweaty palms down his thighs, constantly checking his watch. 4:21 A.M.

By the time 4:45 A.M. rolls around, he spots her. The lot is dark, the flickering neon sign of the diner doing little to expose him to her. She has a purse slung over her shoulder and not much else. Jack rises to his feet, wincing at the pop of his knees, the stiffness in his back. He flicks the butt of his cigarette to the ground and smashes the lit end with the toe of his shoe.

He approaches her and the gravel crunching under his feet has her suddenly alert, jerking her attention toward him. He watches her tense up, eyes wide, clutching the strap of her bag. Her features distort with fear, confusion. She can’t seem to decide how to feel, expression blurring and resetting, blurring again.

“Jack…? What are you - what are you doing here?”

“I was, uh… well, I suppose I was waiting.”

“Waiting for…?”

“For you.”

A hint of delight seems to ease her tension, but not enough for her to relax. She shifts from one foot to the other. Jack aches. He feels the heat pooling in his pelvis, feels that pull. His cock is already half-hard, pulsing with his heartbeat as he comes closer. She’s frozen to the spot, unable to do much else but watch him.

“For me? Wh-why?”

“There is something very special about you, I think. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, if I’m being honest.”

He’s nearly touching her, and he slowly brings his finger to her chin, lifting her face to his. He leans down until he can feel her shuddering little breaths against his mouth. She licks her lips, anticipating him, and he finally bridges that gap. Her lips are so soft, her kiss so submissive, inviting. It’s even better than he’d been fantasizing about, and inky black tendrils of desire creep up through his spine, dripping behind his ribs like ichor. Roiling down from his belly to his balls, stiffening his cock. The violence. The utter, blind, salivating need as he pulls her close, buries his fingers in the fabric of her cheap uniform as he does so. She resists for a moment and seems to melt into him, moaning into his mouth.

He could eat her alive.

They stumble together across the gravel, her hands on his face, skating over his sharp cheekbones to muss his hair. He grabs at her ass, squeezing the generous flesh there. He imagines biting her, leaving a mark that she’ll feel for days to come, imagines her craning to look into a mirror and running her fingers along bruises, bite marks. God, how he wants to mark her.

He guides her clumsily into the mouth of an alley behind the diner. Pressed against the wall, he has the freedom to roam further under her skirt. He tucks his thumbs into the band of her sheer, nylon tights, pulling them down to her calves. Kneeling before her, he watches her flushed expression as he rips her panties off her body with his strong hands, relishing the way she squeals his name. Like a trapped animal. A lamb trembling in the jaws of a wolf. He dips his fingers between her thighs, sliding them into the tight heat of her cunt. She gasps as he fills her this way, stroking, thrusting until she’s practically panting. He ducks under her dress and a growl rumbles up his throat as he tastes her. He wants her dripping down his face. He wants her to beg him to stop, to feel her tighten exquisitely around his fingers as he fucks her with them.

She’s alternating between gently pulling his hair and petting it, thumb slipping occasionally down to trace the bridge of his nose. She does this many times, and it’s so unexpectedly intimate it catches him off guard. Feeling him, painting the image of his profile on the inside of her mind’s eye like a tattoo - it’s not enough to be able to look at him, touch him, kiss him, watch him on TV. She traces him. She memorizes the shape of his nose, the gentle slope of his brow, fingers tickling over his cheekbones. It has him leaking in his trousers.

Her breath catches in her throat and his name is on her lips, sweet and soft as silk, thighs shaking, and there it is - she climaxes. He pulls his fingers out of her and stoops even lower, tongue pushing as far as he can into her folds, nosing her clit. This seems to do something animalistic to her; she nearly screams, covering her own mouth as she grinds against him. He wonders idly if she’ll buck hard enough to break his nose (and so be it, he decides).

Jack can’t wait any longer. He wipes his face off on his sleeve, spins her in place and yanks her hips back. She’s still catching her breath, face so red in the shadows of the alleyway. Eyes half-lidded and dreamy, lips swollen. She glances back at him and watches him struggle to unbuckle and unzip himself, pulling his hard cock out to rub between her wet thighs.

“Jack - please,” she whines. “Please, please.”

“Please what?” God, she’s so fucking slippery. He could swoon on the spot. She makes a soft, whimpering sound and he pulls the head of his cock away, teasing. “Come on. Say what you want.”

“Please… make it hurt.”

For a moment, he stares into her eyes in surprise, and she offers him a coy smile. It changes her features into something a little more sinister than he’d expected. It sets him on fire. Without another word, Jack lines himself up to her plush, slick, waiting cunt and fills her in one brutal thrust. She stiffens on the spot and screams, and now it’s his turn to clap a hand over her mouth.

“Oh, but you wanted this, little dove,” he coos in her ear between grunts. He fucks her hard, fast, feeling all that silken flesh rippling around him. “I had no idea you’d be so filthy. Are you like this for other men? Older men? Spreading your legs in an alley for them to fuck you open?”

The sounds she makes against his hand are probably words - surely they are, but all he hears is her desperate mewling, her high-pitched moans and near-shrieks, the feeling of her breath and drool, her teeth as she considers biting into the flesh of his palm.

“Just me, then? How long have you wanted this, how long have you fantasized about Jack-fucking-Delroy pounding into your little pussy? Do you think of me when you try to sleep? Do you touch yourself thinking of it? Is it what you expected, darling?”

He can barely control himself. There’s a special place between heaven and hell, some secret universe they’ve created with all the heat and pressure of their bodies, with the whispering darkness coursing through him, clouding him, transforming him. There’s nothing else but the urge to rip her in half. To make her scream, to fill her so violently that she feels it for days, for weeks even. He releases her mouth in order to grab her hips, hooking his fingers around the soft flesh there to yank her back against his brutal thrusts. He no longer cares how loud she screams. He likes the way her hands flutter back, grabbing at his wrists, reaching for this thighs in a poor attempt to escape his violence, to temper the way he hammers into her. But he’s too far gone - the smack of his hips into her ass, the way their bodies make the most infernally wet sounds… it’s all there is.

Jack hears a sound, something that nags him in the back of his mind. A rhythmic, gentle noise in the distance, something familiar but unable to breach the ferocity of his current focus. As the pressure builds in his balls, cock harder and more rigid than ever before, he recognizes it. Delirious, he recognizes the sound of an owl somewhere among these buildings, the gentle, almost mocking call of it every couple minutes.

Something about it pushes him over the edge, sweat rolling down his forehead in hot, fat drops, tickling the tip of his nose. He holds her flush as release frees him from all that pressure, muscles tightening and relaxing and waves of molten-hot pleasure surge all through his belly, between his thighs. She’s nearly sobbing at this point, and who can blame her? Each throb of his cock has him grunting against her, draped over her body, teeth bared.

Jack’s easing up, now. He rocks through his orgasm and fills her with his cum, pushing himself as deeply as he can as if a slave to his biological urge. Coating her, marking her with his seed. Mine. I did this.

As he’s emptied himself into her, so empties his mind. No more owl sounds, no more swirling thoughts, the darkness dissipating. He pulls his softening cock from her body and tucks himself away, doing his best to help the poor woman straighten up. Tear tracks shine on her cheeks, little sniffles accompanying her embarrassed smile. There’s fear there, just a little. It hides beneath the veneer of guilty satisfaction, of still being starstruck by her company. It seems that she can barely believe everything that’s just happened. He puts an arm slowly around her shoulders and guides her out from the alley, taking a secret and perverse satisfaction in the way she has to limp a little at first.

“Hey - that was… well, that was something, wasn’t it?” He laughs nervously, searching her to make sure she’s okay. “Are you all right? Do you need a cab? I’d be happy to get one for you, to share?”

“That would be great, actually, if - if it isn’t a pain, Mister Delroy.”

“Jack,” he corrects her gently. He turns her toward the phone book and she waits beside it as he makes the call, staring into the night sky and hugging herself warm. He reemerges, and the way she looks up at him fills him with something he can’t quite name. Some kind of near-familiarity. He’s suddenly struck with his need for the affection, to hold her, to lean own and kiss her lips and be tender to her after all of that. He shrugs out of his suit jacket and drapes it over her shoulders, drinks in her warm little smile as she tugs it around her. They wait in a comfortable silence, occasionally smiling at each other until a car pulls into the lot. It doesn’t take very long at all. He escorts her to it and slides into the back with her once she’s seated, resting his heavy hand on her knee.

“Would you like to… do you need a place to stay the night?” The nip of loneliness. The need, poking its head restlessly into his mind, his body. So different than what they’d done against the wall, so much scarier. “If you’d like to join me…”

She tries unsuccessfully to hide a grin, turning to stare out the window at nothing at all. Hiding her delight, her own need. “I’d love to, Jack.”

#can i just jump into my own story or what like #hurry up and invent the technology #my writing #mine #jack delroy #lnwtd #late night with the devil #jack delroy smut #jack delroy x reader #jack delroy x you #jack delroy/reader #jack delroy/you #my tender violent daddy ass fuckin man right here holy fuck #i actually considered doing some daddy shit in here but it didn’t feel right. maybe another time #hail satan y’all

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secret-gardens-inmy-mind · 2 months ago

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All the Young Dudes

The heartfelt, nostalgic and tragic story of the marauders

The first book I finished this summer was a story called "All the Young Dudes", which is set in the Harry Potter universe and follows the seven years in Hogwarts of the Marauders and the first Wizarding War. It is told by the perspective of (my personal favourite) Remus Lupin. Since this was a long read, I was a little hesitant to start it because it requires commitment, but now that I have I can confidently say it has changed my life.

The Marauders caught my attention from the first time I read the HP books and the characters have always been my favourites. They are formed by: James Potter (Harry's father), Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. The author of this story does an amazing job of submerging the reader into the world of the 70s, which is the time period when they attend Hogwarts, capturing the essence of their friendship and mischief. She creates a heartfelt aura in writing how they met, their well-crafted character development throughout the years, how their relationships with different people developed, the pranks they got up to and the creation of what any HP fan knows as "The Marauder's Map".

The story delves deep into themes of friendship, love, and loss, offering a richly detailed backstory that makes us feel more attached to characters that were mentioned briefly in the original series. We see their friendship grow and strengthen as the Marauders support Remus with his "furry little problem". The author makes you feel connected to the characters, so even though you know it ends tragically, you can't help but laugh, cry and feel everything along with them. It is so richly written that it paints a vivid picture in my head of the fierce world they lived in at the time.

This story made me feel every single emotion possible, including love, loss and resilience, which are woven throughout the story making it both heartwarming and heartbreaking. Because when you finally reach to the tragedy that befalls them, it becomes so much more sorrowful now that we got to know them, but that adds to the emotional impact it has on its readers.

Finally, it has a love story that rendered me completely speechless. In the only way I can think to describe it is that they are soulmates. It is a deeply moving and essential piece of the narrative. The way the author portrays their relationship from the beginning when they are 11 and they become friends, to their realization of their feelings for each other and learning to handle them. They both find solace and strength in each other but it's far from perfect. The author does not shy away from the difficulties they each have to work on or how their love becomes all-consuming that it can be ugly. But in the way that it's okay for love to be ugly. That's something this story has taught me, it's okay for love to be ugly, because it's not always going to be perfect and it's actually in the ugly moments when it matters most. They have both gone through so much internal and external struggles that their passion for each other is their safe-haven. It shows their relationship as something they must work on and fight for, and that makes it all the more compelling and realistic.

All the Young Dudes captures that bittersweet essence of growing up during a time of darkness and war. It teaches us to live in the moment and appreciate every day as it comes. Now that I've finished it, I have oficially gone back into my harry potter phase and the marauders will always hold a special place in my heart.

"Anything for our moony" <3

#all the young dudes #atyd #marauders #marauders era #dead gay wizards from the 70s #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #peter pettigrew

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huaiian · 1 month ago

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I'm going to write my feelings down below and basically just get everything off my chest:

Grief is such a weird thing nowadays. Because celebrities have passed and it had hurt. I remember hearing Cory Monteith had passed away and I was shocked.

But this feeling is something so different, it's actually jarring. One Direction became a boyband and started creating music together at a time where social media was just entering into people's lives and where young people could consume more content involving their favorite celebrities then ever before.

What's funny to me is that so many people now are almost desensitized to this type of stuff now when a celebrity passes away. However, this was different because I watched him grow along with me. He was only 5 years older than me, but it felt like we both were maturing and understanding the world at the same time.

And with this social media surgence, they also showed and talked and disclosed things about themselves that they probably wouldn't do now if given the chance to start over. The naivety of what the internet was and what it mean to make a vine, make a post on instagram or twitter, it was all so new. It felt like we got to see them clearly and with that, the communities and friends made along the way were unforgettable.

I've seen a lot of people, specifically on Twitter, say that we shouldn't grieve or mourn because we didn't know him and, in recent light, he was not someone deserving of such thoughts and prayers.

To me, however, I'm not grieving the man that he had become. I'm grieving that 17 year old boy who laughed with his chest and had this infectious laugh that always had me giggling at my screen.

I'm mourning the fact that these boys helped me through every single horrible time in my adolescence, yet no one was able to help them once they reached stardom.

I'm mourning the fact that the man will never be afforded the opportunity of redemption. Of moving forward and healing, offering applogies that, while long overdue, could still be given without an expiration date.

I mourn because I'm empathetic of what he meant to others, not just myself. I did not know him but that is not the only reason to mourn someone. I don't mourn a deer in a field, but when I see one laying in the road, struck by oncoming traffic, my heart breaks. You do not need reasonable explanations to mourn when grief does not afford us the luxury to think clearly.

I'm crying on and off, sometimes about Liam, sometimes about the boys and their reactions to the news, sometimes about the new meaning this tragedy brings to certain lyrics. But never feel bad about experiencing your emotions. Life allows us to think and feel things that can be complicated, but that's the price we pay to be in this world. And I think Liam would be thankful for that we get to be here one more day for which he can't.

Sorry if some parts of this don't make too much sense, it's 1:28 AM and I had to write something down or else I wouldn't be able to sleep.

#liam payne #1d #one direction #personal vent #vent post #and if i cry again that's nobodys business now is it #Spotify

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stevethehairington · 2 years ago

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Dustin swings.

The first punch to Steve’s hands is unexpectedly hard enough that Steve has to step back to steady himself.

Under any other circumstance, that would’ve had Dustin grinning and laughing and teasing the shit out of Steve.

Today, he doesn’t even bat an eye at it.

His mouth stays twisted, an anguished gash that feels so out of place on a face that stands for everything Steve has come to associate with Dustin: bright, bubbling laughter, a permanent grin so wide it shows off every single one of his teeth; nothing but pure happiness and joy.

But there's not a trace of that in Dustin anymore. There hasn't been since... since.

It fucking hurts to see Dustin like this. So broken, so pained. And the worst part is, Steve doesn't know what to do with it. Doesn't know how to fix it. Because, well, he can't fix it. He can't bring Max back. He can't bring Eddie back. He can't undo all of the death and destruction and pain and suffering. No matter how much he wants to.

Steve knows, all too well, that handling Dustin with kid gloves won't do shit either. Gentle touches and kind words and the kind of taking care that comes in the aftermath of such great tragedy isn't going to help. Dustin has seen, has experienced, has survived through far too much for empty promises of "it'll pass" and "it will get better" and "it gets easier" to mean anything.

Four times around and it hasn't gotten better or easier at all.

The only thing Steve can do to help is to be there. To be a steady presence in Dustin's life, to offer him the silent support he needs, to let Dustin work through his grief and his anger and his pain at his own pace.

So he does.

He stands there and he lets Dustin pummel his hands, pounding his tightly wound fists over and over and over. Lets him scream and shout and grunt and cry as he streamlines every overwhelming feeling into this one action.

(Steve's hands hurt, they sting from Dustin's punches, and he thinks they might bruise, if palms even can bruise, but he thinks of it as some sort of penance. For letting Dustin go through all of this. For not protecting him better in the first place.)

Steve can't quite make out all that Dustin's saying as he hits, but he catches bits. A couple of "why"'s, a few "it's not fair"'s, one "it should have been me" that tears through Steve's own chest and has him losing his breath and his footing, briefly, once more.

After a couple of minutes, Dustin's energy starts to lag. His breathing comes heavier, but his punches come slower and slower, until all of the sudden he's collapsing into Steve's arms, burying his face into Steve's chest as his sobs wrack through his body.

Steve catches him, secures his arms around Dustin and holds him close, holds him tight. He swallows down his own sobs threatening to break through because fuck, fuck, fuck he never wanted this for Dustin. The horror, the hurt, the guilt. That was supposed to be Steve's to carry, and Steve's alone. But he couldn't even do that right either.

He can feel Dustin's tears, hot and wet, down the side of his neck. Can hear the snot that stuffs his nose and clogs his lungs. Can hear the absolute heartbreak in his words as he mumbles out his desolation into Steve's shirt.

But Steve holds his own grief in. Holds his own pain. Because he needs to be strong for Dustin. Needs to be his rock right now.

Steve can't stop it. He can't take it away. He can't fix it.

But he can do this. He can let Dustin punch him until he can't anymore. And he can hold Dustin as he cries.

It's not much, but it's something.

#steve harrington #dustin henderson #stranger things #this was actually written as a response to something else that somebody else wrote but i wanted to post it bc i like how it turned out #so if thats why it feels like it starts in the middle lol thats why #but yeah steve finds dustin grieving and kicking the shit out of eddie's old (empty) trailer and steve tells him to hit his hands instead #mack writes #macks ficlets

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vintagetvstars · 5 months ago

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My Babylon 5 thoughts

Here are my thoughts on Babylon 5 after watching it for the first time. I could talk for ages about this show but unfortunately that is too long for a text post (I tried going season by season but it was about as long as this post and I hadn’t even gotten to season 3 when I realized it was way too long). So I will try my best to keep it brief and just my overall thoughts.

Overall I really love this show! It’s definitely become one of my favorite sci-fi shows out there! Babylon 5 has an amazingly rich world full of life and inhabited by some of the best written and performed characters in all of sci-fi. I could talk forever about some of my favorite moments in the show and every single character but I’ll try to narrow it down to just a few, but know that there is so much else I love about it. There will be spoilers ahead!

Thoughts under the cut

What is there to say that I’m sure others haven’t already said about Londo and G’Kar and the relationship between the Narn and the Centauri and that arc the show takes us on. By far one of my favorite arcs and relationships on the show. The Narn and Centauri conflict played out through seasons 2 & 3 is chilling. G’Kar made me cry so many times not just in that story arc but in his own personal arc as he grew throughout the show. Londo’s story arc is haunting and a beautiful tragedy you can’t look away from. There relationship throughout the show and how it changes and grows as they do is something that will stay with me forever. Truly one of the best parts of the entire series! G’Kar specifically is one of my all time favorite sci-fi characters right up there with Kira Nerys! Just overall two of the best written and performed characters with some of the most compelling story arcs and relationship to one another that I have ever had the pleasure of witnessing!

While the shadow war was the biggest thing introduced by the show and it was fascinating and overall very well done, I found the stuff going on with earth and the fight against the rising and eventual full on fascism there the most compelling major plot in the series. The whole earth fascism arc was really well done and just horrifying and eerie to watch unfold. I really don’t have more to say about it other than that it was so fantastically done and it speaks for itself and you should go watch it!

I also was extremely pleasantly surprised with the shows handling of religion and spirituality. So much of sci-fi disappointingly either entirely ignores it or exclusively uses it for their villains. Both have always been pretty disappointing takes for me and don’t take advantage of the kind of roll these things can take in peoples lives or their full storytelling potential. Babylon 5 plays with these concepts fully and beautifully and it makes the story, the cultures within it, and its characters so much richer getting to see how religion and spirituality are at play in this world. I still cry thinking about the end of the episode with the religious festival where Sinclair showcases all of earths religions, it was a beautiful moment and touching to see that in Babylon 5’s future all these different religions, ways of thinking, these cultures, still exist, we’re all still here and we are all very human and I found that beautiful.

I’ve said a few things I loved so I’ll quickly go over some of the things I found lacking or flawed before wrapping it up with the rest of what I loved.

While I know a lot of this is due to a lot of behind the scenes production issues, that doesn’t change the fact that this show had a huge issue with wasted characters. There are plenty of characters I liked that got their time cut short that I could talk about but I will only focus on the ones that I’m actively still mad about.

I hate what they end up doing with both Marcus and Lennier and their unrequited love storylines. It’s not even that they went with unrequited love storylines, there are plenty of ways I think they could have still written them with unrequited love storylines that weren’t the in my opinion absolute character assassinating ways they ended both their arcs. I liked Marcus and Lennier but they never used Marcus very effectively then just absolutely take him out in the worst way possible that not only was a disservice to him as a character but completely tainted Ivanova’s exit from the show and her blaze of glory moment which was really upsetting as Ivanova is one of my favorite characters in the series. And Lennier’s unrequited love was actually going in a direction I would have liked, loyal to the end friendship and love but then season 5 happened and they just completely ruined Lennier as a character and his and Delenn’s wonderful relationship of loyalty and friendship and a form of love up until that point. I am upset on behalf of both Marcus and Lennier as characters that didn’t deserve that and Ivanova and Delenn whose own story’s were impacted in the aftermath of these bad storylines.

The only other major thing that bothered me was season 5 and the subsequent movies and spin off not really going anywhere or getting wrapped up in any way. I saved the final episode to watch til last which really worked cause even tho a lot of the stuff introduced in season 5, the movies, and spin off don’t get wrapped up, the Finale was emotionally cathartic and wrapped the show up perfectly on an emotional level. It was just odd to me to introduce a bunch of storylines that weren’t going to get finished, and I get that a lot of it was due to production issues but they did know the show was ending so they could have avoided some of it. Still that was mildly annoying but I suppose I can hopefully find out what happened on some wiki articles or maybe some of the B5 novels.

Okay back to more things I loved for a B5 positivity sandwich! Can we talk about Alfred Bester?!?? I desperately want to go into detail about how much I love this character and especially how phenomenal the performance was but in case the actor gets nominated for the men’s bracket I won’t. I will just say Bester is one of the best Sci-fi villains I’ve ever had the pleasure to witness, right up there with Dukat on Deep Space 9. And it is the best showcase of acting skill and one of the best if not the best performance by the actor who portrays him (who I can’t talk about cause I don’t want to induce a bias but if you know you know)!

While I found a lot of the movies to be bad with some okay/funny bits, to good but flawed and unnecessary, I really adore B5’s spin off Crusade. While some of its early episodes weren’t the strongest they were still fun and enjoyable and its later episodes were great! The characters were delightful and it had an interesting set up and premise. I am genuinely really sad we only got a single season of Crusade as it was better than a lot of other sci-fi series first seasons that did go on to get multiple seasons. If I had a choice to bring back or renew one thing from the Babylon 5 franchise I would genuinely bring back Crusade so we could see a full finished series cause it was cut way too short and I would have loved to see a full series of it. It wasn’t as great as B5 overall but it was good and I really enjoyed it. Plus I had a childhood crush on one of the leads of the show who I won’t name in case anyone nominates any of the guys on this show for the men’s bracket but that certainly biased me towards liking the show 😅.

Also possibly unpopular opinion but I didn’t hate The Legend of the Rangers. It was definitely a bit cheesy and didn’t really feel like it fully fit into the B5 universe so I understand why it wasn’t picked up as a show. But it was fun cheesy for me, very Babylon 5 does Power Rangers and I totally would have watched it had it been picked up. But I also like Power Rangers and how cheesy it can be so maybe that’s just a me thing. I similarly loved the Vorlon encounter suits and the Mantis character from season 1 for similar reasons of them reminding me of the suits and puppet effects used on Power Rangers and other similar media that I think are really fun and always love to see!

One final kind of small thing but B5 actually found a way to make dogfight style space combat interesting to me. I’ve always found the more submarine warfare style ship to ship combat more compelling as when things become a space dogfight it often devolves into just a bunch of space lasers and fast ship unintelligible nonsense and I loose all interest and stakes in what’s happening on screen. B5 found a way to keep the stakes and emotions high so even when they went into more aerial combat I was still fully engaged in the story and what was happening. So thanks for that B5, I genuinely thought it couldn’t be done well but they proved me wrong.

Overall I found Babylon 5 to be a phenomenal show and definitely one that’s certainly become a favorite of mine! I could talk so much more about every season and every single character and the things I love about them but this post is already long enough 😅. I definitely plan to rewatch it many times over (and attempt to perfect a watch order I personally like best cause I see why watch order is so debated now) and am already immediately trying to get mod violet and my partner to both watch it with me in the future (that’ll be two excuses to rewatch it)! It certainly has its flaws but all of my favorite things do and they certainly don’t remotely outweigh the absolutely phenomenal parts of the show.

Finally, I apologize to the Mira Furlan fans that she did not make it far in our tournament. I get it now! Her performance as Delenn is phenomenal and she is absolutely captivating every second she is on screen. She has the beauty and grace of a Disney princess and the terrifying ethereal presence and power of the sun and the moon.

- mod vintage

#vintage tv stars poll #mod thoughts

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ateez-himari · 1 year ago

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NEW K-DRAMA: WHERE WE FALL

Warning: Talks of survivor's guilt, and reference to dark thoughts

[Sunshine Duo taking on Heart Wrenching Roles]

On September 29 a new Korean drama series made its way onto the big screens starring two idols from K-Pop group ATEEZ, main dancer Jeong Yunho and lead vocalist Min Himari.

When nineteen year old Aerin (Min Himari) finds herself as the sole survivor of a mysterious house fire that claimed her twin brother's (Lee Do Hyun) life due to a late practice that had kept her from going home, she can't help but to feel as though she should have died with him, as though she should have saved him. Despite countless therapists reaching out after the tragedy it seemed as though nothing or no one could pull her through this case of survivor's guilt nor help dissipate the visions of her brother appearing in her daily life all the way into insomnia inducing nightmares. Once a bright presence she begins turning to seclusion and unhealthy activities to distract herself from the overwhelming grief, much to her best friend Jae-Won's (Jeong Yunho) despair. The more he reaches out to her, the angrier Aerin begins to get with him and the further she pushes him away, her actions growing in recklessness by the day. But Jae-Won refuses to give up on her. Will he manage to save her...or will she drag him down with her when she finally falls off the deep end ?

The bandmates appeared in the magazine 'Singles Korea' in order to promote the series where they later met with an interviewer who talked with them about their experience. When asked about the difficulty of portraying a character with such a dark and complex story, Himari said "I was really nervous at first because I wasn't sure if I could convey such a complex mental health struggle so I monitored every scene very closely to make sure I had every detail down."

Much like the maknae, Yunho shared similar feelings of nervosity regarding his role by stating "Even though it wasn't my first acting project, the concept was much darker than Imitation's so I found it to be a really intimidating role. The longer filming went on though, the easier it became to sink myself into the story and my character."

(Spoiler ahead)

The pair agreed that one of the most memorable scenes was the last argument in which Aerin steps onto her apartment's balcony ledge only to be stopped by a horrified Jae-Won, leading the girl to finally break down in front of her best friend after a few moments of protest. In their opinion the key point in this part of the drama is the embrace they share, Jae-Won's hands running down Aerin's body in order to comfort her whilst she clings on to him for dear life, pulling herself as close as possible to the man who had so desperately fought to save her. "Even after the director yelled 'cut', Hima(ri) was still holding on to me and crying, that's how emotional the scene was" said Yunho. "I found this very...draining in a way because I found many similarities between our experiences so the story took me over completely. At the end I had no idea why I was crying, I just couldn't stop." Himari added.

Something that a lot of fans are most likely wondering about whilst watching the series is how everything was filmed despite their tour's grueling schedule, not to mention side activities. According to both actors this project had been in the works for quite a while now so they had filmed majority of it prior to their schedules, what little was left being filmed on days off. Himari's view on it is "Even though it was a tiring project at times I feel like it was worth every moment because it was an amazing experience. I'm also very proud of what we created and I hope the fans will enjoy it too." To this, Yunho agreed and continued with "I'm glad we got to see it through to the end and am really thankful to be given an opportunity to take on a more challenging role. I personally can't get tired of the story no matter how many times I had read and monitored it."

Finally it was noted that they also had quite the romantic tension throughout the series, one that even ended with the two of them sharing a kiss amidst their tears. The strong on screen chemistry was explained by Himari "It was slightly awkward at first to be close in such an intimate manner but I feel comfortable with him (Yunho) and we're very close in real life so we managed to work through it." They both recalled being flustered whilst reading the script and having to film this scene more than any others as they kept shying away or laughing. Yunho said "Having her on my lap was already very...strange but then when production said we had to kiss we couldn't seem to keep our composure."

Overall the hard work and emotions put into this series by its actors is sure to capture viewers' hearts to bring them into a rollercoaster of emotions. Stream 'Where We Fall' on Netflix.

#ateez 9th member #ateez au #ateez extra member #ateez female member #ateez imagines #kpop oc

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chaoticallyfragmentary · 2 years ago

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Dabi x Reader

Contains Dabi and reader as lovers, a Dabi who is kind of capable of emotional intelligence and articulation. A little bit of angst, the we’ll die in a couple days so let me show you how much I love you one last time kind. Lots of fluff and feels and descriptions of sex, nothing too explicit. As usual, do not read if it makes you uncomfortable. Just some Dabi lovin’, the sweet and sad kind where reader and him are a great big tragedy. It’s not so sad as all that I hope, so enjoy.

Dabi wore his mask well, but it had developed cracks. Tiny fissures spiderwebbing across what had once been an impenetrable surface.

“Don’t be upset doll.”

“Excellent opener, Dabi. I’m feeling so at ease right now.” You look up from the plans, brows lifted, waiting for whatever would upset you.

“I-I want you to know--” Dabi takes a deep breath and gives you a small, sad smile. “All my life, I’ve been ravaged by longing, shredded by grief and held together by rage. The only thing—the only thing that made any of it bearable was you princess.”

“Wait, t-that s-s-sounds like a goodbye Dabi, a-are you saying goodbye?” you demand, though it comes out more like a plea, voice thick with the lump in your throat.

“Gods no doll, I-I just want you to know that I would not have known a hint of relief, or a slice of joy, if I did not have the pleasure of knowing you” he croaks.

You feel dangerously close to tears, eyes prickling with heat but you don’t want to cry, not wasting a second in mourning what you haven’t lost yet. You’ll do it later, alone, when if there is a reason to.

But right now, Touya is here. He is still here and you love him dearly, dreadfully and with a defiance that makes your heart sing, a love so deep for what you cannot keep but oh god, do you want to, dance by the firelight with him, cook with him and fold laundry with him, live a modest life with him, almost mundane in its simplicity. Quiet and safe, walls stained with the happiness of a life well lived, vision tinted golden.

In another life maybe, but in this one, you are a great big tragedy and you don’t want to say goodbye.

Just not yet.

Gods, please not yet.

“Don’t cry doll” he breathes out, cradling your face, mumbling reassurances or pleas, you didn’t know, thumbs swiping away your tears with a tenderness so uncharacteristic, it sends a fresh wave right down your cheeks. “I mean, you are completely breaking my heart right now and admittedly, what little of it exists is yours and you can do with it what you want but doll,” he huffs out a weak laugh when you muster up the strength to glare at him. Dabi is undoubtedly frazzled, borderline desperate and it is oddly cute, a word you’ve never associated with him.

You start crawling right into his lap, settling down on his thighs as he continues to stroke your cheeks, instinctively wrapping his other arm around your waist. He kisses you on the forehead, just a peck, barely there and proceeds to do just the same on your nose, your cheeks, the corner of your mouth and starts nibbling on your ears and you start smiling, giggling along helplessly and Dabi smiles, and it strikes you that it was a smile of being known, all bright and bold and beautiful.

“Mine, princess. All mine.” You shouldn’t be so enticed by the idea of belonging to anyone, much less a wanted villain considering your position, but every single time Dabi claims you as his, a thrill shoots down your spine. Considering the way he repeats himself, something heady and possessive about his tone, you guess he’s figured it out already.

“And I’m yours, all yours princess,” he says, like it is resolute and set in stone, indisputable and you cannot be blamed for losing your breath when he says it like that. Like he is yours to claim and possess. It terrifies you, in the best way possible as Dabi finally kisses you, with a gentleness bordering on devotion, making a quiet sound into your kiss as you snatch a little frantically at that stupid black coat of his, trying to paw it off. He backs off enough with breathless laughter as you finally peel him out of that coat and launch it across the room, hitting Twice, probably as he backs off, hands raised in a gesture of surrender.

He groans as you slide your hands down his chest, bringing one of his nipples into your mouth as he blows out a deep breath, his grip on your ass almost bruising. “Doll, princess, please,” he keens, pleading, hands trembling with the effort it took to hold still. He looks so embarrassed it’s almost painful as you toy with his other nipple.

“Okay, enough doll” he breathes out and you yelp as he stands to his feet and hauls you up with him at the same time, your legs naturally wrapping around him. “I love it when you manhandle me sir,” you blurt out, hands gripping his shoulders as you, quite literally bite into his neck, just enough to sting. He sucks in a sharp breath but follows it by slapping your ass so, no dice. His lips twitch as he figures out that you’ve been trying to fluster him and then he dumps you, right into his bed with no warning whatsoever.

He looks at you, mouth forming a perfect circle as you gape at him, him crawling up the length of your body, him looking like sin personified. You are still quite dazed as he dips in to kiss you, the frantic hurried kind, divesting you of clothes, then the lazy, languid kind, drawing moans out of you as he licks into your mouth. That filthy little thing. Dragging his mouth along your jaw as you pant beneath him.

“Please,” your voice cracks as he draws lazy circles with his tongue, on your exposed skin. When he pulls back, you chase his mouth, eyes glazed as you want his mouth back on you, back where it was. “Please,” your voice rasps as he starts kissing down your stomach.

Dabi looks at you, magic made life and thinks, it’s so fucking worth it. If he had to lead a life like that for it to lead to you, it was so worth it. Everything else takes the back seat, the imminent danger, the possibility of future death, just you in the forefront. Your moans, the hitched breaths, every time your mouth shaped around his name, every fucking thing that starts and ends with you, so worth it.

You are a mess throughout and Dabi feels so fortunate that he gets to hold you in his arms, this lovely stuttering mess that he can lay claim to and be claimed by. He laughs as you squirm against him, yank on his hair and gasp into his mouth, chanting his name, begging, and so far gone as he draws a third orgasm out of you. Dabi has been with people before, but never been in love, so he is astounded by the intimacy every time he made love to you, astounded by how much he feels, all at once as he fucks his fingers into you, his whole world beginning and ending with you, wanting to just stay with you, in this forever that you’ve both made, a little desperate and dazed, to just feel the joy of existing in this moment that feels caught in amber, everlasting and just ours.

He presses his face into the bend of your throat, tangling your fingers together and he is so lost to pleasure, that you are amazed by how loud he is. It drives you a bit mad to be honest as you clench around him, choking out some variation of “Don’t stop—please, please baby, don’t stop,” as you arch beneath him, “I wasn’t going to princess,” he gasps out, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to keep it together, which is a miracle in itself as you stare up at him, face flushed and chest heaving. He couldn’t physically stop himself from kissing you, not coming up for air as every fiber of him tells him he could go without, too busy falling apart as everything good in the world is with him, meeting his every thrust until his ears are ringing and the only name being chanted is yours, steadily spilling out from his mouth in wonder.

If he kisses you like he has something to tell you, all the love he couldn’t put into words, pouring out of him as you open your mouth wide and let him in, all tongue and teeth, kisses you, hand around your neck, like he wants to crawl inside you, kisses you like you are his passion, his desire, his death, kisses you like he is branding you, you are his, his, in every iteration of the universe, there is you and there is him, stroking your tongue with his own as he tells you, he’d find you in every one of your lives, across time and across space, as you kiss him back, utterly entranced, panting and moaning as you think, okay.

#dabi x reader #dabi #bnha dabi #mha dabi #bnha #mha #bnha imagines #dabi is touya #dabi imagine #dabi fluff #dabi smut #dabi is in love #idiots in love #league of villains #lov dabi #vigilante reader #slight angst

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