The fact that a news outlet (TMZ) decided that their need to get a scoop justified posting partial pictures of a young man's body just to demonstrate that it was his tattoos is the grossest fucking thing and I hope every single person who signed off on it regrets it every day for the rest of their lives.
Liam was dehumanised to a commodity from the age of 16 and the fact that even in death he's being treated like this is disgusting. I'm so sad and I'm so mad and I hope his family sues (if that's what they want to do).
There is no reason to share 'news' like this. It isn't journalism, it isn't in the public's interest. It's grubby and foul and to not even put a warning of the article's contents in the headline is fucking cruel.
liam. oh liam. god. he was the one i worried so much about ever since the band. like, it used to be zayn but when zayn left and grew i thought "ok, he's going to be ok" because you could see after a while that the band was not good for zayn. you could see it. but liam, god. he carried so much weight, all the time. from the band all the way to the present, he was the guy who was supposed to be put together. he was "daddy direction" he was. yeah. he was that guy. and i know it weighed on him. i KNOW it did. the drinking and the fucking spiraling he went through after the band, it was all connected. and i'm not. defending his choices, i'm not. but i'm grieving him and i'm aching for him, and. i just wanted him to be okay. i really really thought that he would be okay. and he's not. and i'm. fucking heartbroken about it.
I came into this fandom a very broken human being. I was twenty-four, had just come out and ended an engagement, and had no fucking clue who I was.
I never saw this fandom coming— the people who changed me, the people I hurt, the lessons I learned, the ways I grew.
The truth is, one of the reasons I sidelined myself in this fandom is because I didn’t like the person I had become, and my actions had caused hurt that I needed to take accountability for. So I left. And I did work. And I am SUCH a different person at 34 than I was at 24. But I got that chance. And Liam didn’t.
All of the nights spent awake until the early hours of the morning, shitposting and memeing and headcanoning. All of the press junkets, interviews, talk show appearances, performances, releases, charity events. All of the fan initiatives. Project No Control. Rainbow Direction. All of the laughter, some of the best friends I have ever known.
Liam had a part in that. A big part. I remember once, some fandom friends telling me that if I was anyone, I was Liam. I never quite knew how to feel about that. He was a child who was paraded, stripped down, abused, overworked, but he also became someone who was enabled, inflated, unaccountable. And I know what all of that feels like. He never got the chance to grow up, and that’s what fills me with rage the most. Coming from someone who DID get that chance, who has a life beyond her wildest dreams now. Why not him.
I keep thinking about how purely sparkling 2015 was, how giddy and bright-eyed we all were. I’m so sad. I’m so, so sad. I’m so angry, there are so many people I want to torch and pitchfork and roast over a spit. I have no idea how I’m going to ask my boss to work from home tomorrow and how to explain it other than to tell her I don’t feel well.
We have experienced lost. Jay. Fizz. Robin. Others. But I don’t think anything could have ever prepared any of us for this. It was all of our worst unexpressed fears. I just… I love you all. So very much. And I am so, so sorry. May we all remember that We Are 1D Family. We will see each other through this.
If you or someone you love is struggling, please know that I stand here as someone who will happily meet you where you’re at with grace and compassion, and absolutely zero judgement. I think we all need to feel this together, and we all need places to talk. I’m here for that, so happily— because it’s what we do. For family.
Liam was a boy, and then a man, who suffered so much trauma and pain. He was bullied as a child and then lived a nightmare that I think none of us can really imagine of having that triggering experience replicated on a literally global public scale. He became a man who inflicted trauma on others. He was an addict who was unable to find a way out of that disease, and now never will, but who was open and vulnerable about his struggles. He was an incredibly talented musician and artist and an absolutely integral part of one of the most important bands of a generation; his voice and songwriting and skill in the studio shaped every aspect of what One Direction became at their best. He loved that band and being a part of that experience with his whole being and would never have stopped celebrating what they meant to us and to the world. He had problems and did bad things; that doesn't mean he was a bad person who didn't deserve to be loved and helped to heal- everyone deserves that- and the fact that that's not something that can ever happen now is devastating. I was very distressed by many of his actions; and I cared deeply about this man I didn't know and wished for better for him than this outcome.
I'm so deeply, deeply SAD tonight. I'm sad for Liam, who will never now have the chance to look back on this hard time and reflect on how far he's come, and for Liam's family, for his parents and his sisters who loved and supported him so much, and for everyone in the 1D band family and circles. And I'm sad for us. It feels like nothing will ever be quite the same, and that's hard and sad and shocking. It's a special kind of doubled grief, to mourn the loss of the person, and also of what he meant to us in this strange world of parasocial fanning, for the real him and also for the version of him that we made up and attached so much meaning to and for the escape that brought us. For him, and also for the easy uncomplicated joy of listening to those beautiful songs from happier times, which might never feel the same again. For the other boys, who we love so much and wish we could shield from suffering and loss and pain. For our fellow fans, who we also worry about the impact of this on. Everything about this is terrible, and I am sending so much love out to all of you. We are not alone, and it's okay to feel complicated emotions and it's okay to mourn and it's okay to care about how it effects you and your life, whatever you're feeling- it's okay. We are here with you. We are 1D family.
Includes mentions of alcohol, reader has some insecurities surrounding her body, oral (f receiving) vaginal sex, lots of romance.
Summer was over, and you couldn’t have been more pleased. Unseasonably warm temperatures had made the past few months in Hawkins feel miserable, unless you were indoors with air conditioning. You’d made good use of the portable fans Hopper had placed around the cabin, particularly the small one at your bedside. This morning was the first day you hadn’t had to use it in awhile. Waking up without a layer of sweat on your body and the sheets had felt like an unexpected luxury. Now, you were walking through the forest beside Hopper, enjoying the first cool day in weeks, looking for a nice spot to set down your picnic supplies and have some lunch.
Hopper paused for a moment just ahead of a clearing. Thin streams of sunlight cascaded through the leaves above you both, creating a cozy atmosphere. “This looks like the spot,” Hopper grinned down at you. He sat the picnic basket on ground, the cold beers inside clinking. You unrolled the blanket together and made yourselves comfortable, you sitting cross-legged with a sandwich in hand, and Hopper stretched out on his side, propping himself up on one of his elbows as he ate and drank a few of the beers.
Hopper’s tolerance for alcohol was pretty damn high and usually, he would barely be feeling its effects only three beers in. But today, Hopper found himself being persuaded to act on his carnal instincts…by both the encouragement of his beer and the scooped neckline of your dress, the way your tits looked so damn soft peeking out over the fabric. The dress was probably a size too small, fit you just a little too snug; but that’s exactly the way Hopper wanted it. He hated when you covered yourself up in baggy clothes, hiding your shape away under layers of fabric and shame. Hopper respected your choices, of course, knowing of your struggles with self acceptance and with viewing your body in a positive light. He always encouraged you to see yourself the way he saw you-as a literal goddess he considered himself unworthy to call his own-but understood that the negative messages you’d received your whole life about your body, and women’s bodies in general, could take a long time to unlearn. In the meantime, Hopper would remind you of your perfection, and happily look forward to the day when you could love yourself the way he already did.
His eyes were lingering on your chest, and you’d definitely begun to notice. “Is there something on my chest?” you asked, playing dumb. You dipped your head to inspect yourself, pretending to look for crumbs. Hopper’s eyebrows lifted, a little smirk turning his lips in response to your question. “Nothin’ yet,” he replied with a husky drawl, a light sheen of sweat glistening his forehead. “Could change that, if you want…”
Hopper shifted closer, extending his hand to stroke your arm. “All this cool, fresh air,” he murmured. “S’got me feeling things…” You pursed your lips, glancing over at the three empty beers. “Are you sure it’s only the air?” you teased, and Hopper shook his head at you, grinning. “Smart ass,” he muttered, tugging you closer. He loomed over you, swallowing your body up under his like a bear and its prey. You giggled as he nestled his face in the plush center of your breasts, peppering kisses across your cleavage. Things took a turn quickly when you felt Hopper’s cock stiffening against your inner thigh. Your body responded immediately, a fluttering pulse between your legs expressing your need as well. Hopper waited to make sure you had no objections to his going further. When you nodded softly and curved yourself into the outline of his cock through his jeans, Hopper had all the answer he needed.
He parted his lips over one of your breasts, gently sucking at the fat blooming over the neckline of your dress. He slipped his fingers beneath the fabric and tugged it downward, your breasts spilling out of your dress and into Hopper’s hands and mouth. He groped and sucked at the soft, plump flesh he adored, his teeth skimming your nipple just lightly enough to make you shiver, your back arching to force your tit between his lips. Hopper closed his lips around your nipple, pulling rhythmically at the peaked, tender bud, flicking the tip of his tongue across its center and making you whine.
His cock throbbed against your pussy, pressed against the now-soaked fabric of your cotton panties. Hopper rutted himself lazily into the puffy outline of your cunt, swollen and slippery as he massaged himself against your lips. Hopper released your breast with a low growl at the back of his throat, his broad chest rumbling against your body where they were pressed together, inseparable. You curved your hips upward to meet his thrusts, silently begging Hopper to fuck you. Your cunt was weeping against the thick bulge of his erection through his jeans, your panties soaked to transparency where your bodies were joined. Hopper reached a hand between your legs to feel the slippery texture of what he could already smell, your cum slicking his fingers as another low growl rumbled animalistic and carnal from his chest.
Hopper left your breast and moved down your body, forcing the fabric of your dress up your thighs and out of his way. He swiped his tongue across the sopping crotch of your panties, your hips bucking in response, a whimper escaping your lips as he sank his mouth over your clothed, puffy clit, and began to suck.
Your head pressed back against the picnic blanket, leaves crunching underneath your body as you twisted and rut against Hopper’s mouth. His fingers sank into the soft meat of your hips, kneading the plump flesh that bulged from the sides of your panties. Hopper toyed with your clit deliciously, alternating between flicking the sensitive bead with his tongue and tugging it persistently between his lips with a pressure that had your thighs clamping down around his head as you lost control of your body. Hopper held your waist down, forcing you to stay in place for him as your climax rippled through your body and sent you tumbling into ecstasy. Waves of pleasure lifted you higher and higher, swooping you down and right back up again as Hopper’s mouth locked in place against your clit. When you finished crying and shaking, Hopper climbed back up your body, his slick lips finding yours in a warm, tender kiss. He gently stroked back the hair that had fallen over your forehead in your exertion. “I love you baby,” Hopper whispered, his breath scented of you. “I love you so fuckin’ much…”
He rose to his knees, kneeling over you, his big hands working his belt undone. Your eyes wandered dreamily over this big, beautiful man, a man who was all yours and simultaneously surely too much for any one woman to handle; and yet, he belonged to you alone. Hopper loosened the zipper on his jeans, a damp patch of his precum and your arousal darkening the denim. He wrapped his hand around his cock with a groan, lowering his hips back into position between your legs. With his other hand, Hopper hooked a finger beneath the glossy crotch of your panties, and pulled it aside. He pulled the tip of his cock between your folds, his chest dipping in awe at the beautiful, slick sounds your pussy made, bathing the head of his cock in the sweet syrup of your cunt, knowing you made it just for him. Hopper poised himself at your entrance, his arms coming to rest around your shoulders. With his eyes fixed on yours, Hopper eased his hips forward. Your tight, sopping hole accepted Hopper’s fat cock with a loud, wanton squelch, a groan leaving both your lips and his at the pressure of him filling you, the grip of your perfect cunt sucking him in, begging him, deeper. Hopper obliged your need, catered to the desire inside you that raged as wild and as untamed as his own. His hands clawed marks in the dirt, fistfuls of leaves clutched in his grip as he lost himself in yours, burrowing deep in the warm bed of your sex. The tears of pleasure running down your cheeks reflected the gold in the leaves overhead. Hopper pressed his lips to your wet, burning skin, stealing away each of the golden teardrops in a kiss.
He fucked you hard and soft in thick, heavy thrusts, grinding your back into the blanket and the leaves beneath it flat. When Hopper came, he shouted, a desperate and carnal groan of release that only the other animals around you were witness to. His cock emptied hot and thick against your cervix. The contractions of a second orgasm gripped Hopper’s cock in rhythmic spasms, draining every last drop of cum from his heavy, satisfied cock.
You wiped away the last of the tears painting your face, as Hopper pulled you into his arms to hold you. The thundering beat of his heart against your cheek was deep and steady like the sound of horses’ hooves galloping across a field. You held onto that image as Hopper held onto you, gently drifting to sleep inside his arms… 🍂
LOOK AT THAT SICK EXPRESSION OF PAIN ON HIS FACE WHEN HIS ARM GETS BLASTED OFF. THE SENSORS, THE SENSITIVITY….HE COULD FEEL THE BRUISING OF A PLUM, SO HE DAMN WELL FELT HIS ARM BEING SHOT OFF. GOD.
That's Bee whenever she hears Bucky ask where his favorite girl is. Bee will stop whatever she's doing and run off to find him with a happy little, "I'm here Papa. You needs me?"
Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader, Daughter nicknamed Bumblebee.
WC: Less than 800.
CW: Brief mention of spiders, so much fluff.
AN: Part of the Bumblebee series.
*The first time, she heard him say that, she had been napping by her mama.*
“No, it has to be done by Monday or we’ll have to push back the opening for the casino. No, that’s not my problem. Figure it out. And tell Steve I’ll be there at 10,” Bucky mutters distractedly, pushing the door open with his shoulder, and running his hand through his mussed hair.
His tired gaze immediately hones in on your face, your profile barely visible in the dim light as you lay on your side. The soothing scents of lavender and vanilla surround him as he steps inside.
A smile tugs at his lips and that familiar rush, he can only describe it as a jolt of pure happiness, he gets whenever he lays his eyes on you surges through him, making his heart race.
Suddenly, this conversation is no longer important.
“I have to go. Make sure Steve gets my message.” He hangs up, tossing his phone on the dresser.
You stir, stretching your arm over your head with a soft groan. Bucky loosens his tie, strolling across the room.
“I don’t think you know I much I missed you. Couldn’t focus on a single thing this afternoon because I kept thinking about you,” he murmurs, more to himself than you, as he approaches the bed. “I’ve been waiting all day to see my favorite girl.”
You turn your head, lips parting to respond when two little hands grab your arm and a sleepy Bee pulls herself up.
“Hi Papa. I was waiting for you too,” she yawns. You bite back a laugh, rolling over to face Bucky. “We missed you so much,” she continues, dropping her chin on your shoulder, a drowsy grin on her face.
"So much," you chime in.
Sometimes he wonders how he got so lucky to have you two in his life. His smile widens until it matches hers. Bucky plants his hands beside you and he places a kiss on Bee’s forehead before moving to you, slowly brushing his lips over yours like he can’t quite get enough of you.
“You two have a good day?”
“Yeah, I has so much fun Papa.” Her head lolls across your shoulder, and she climbs over you, plopping down beside your stomach.
“We had a great day,” you respond, a hint of laughter curling around your tone. Cupping his cheek. Bucky leans into your touch, his soft beard grazing your palm, another kiss placed on your skin.
He slides in next to the two of you, his long arm draped over your side with Bee in the middle, her bright gaze moving between you. She continues to talk as Bucky adjusts the pillow under your head before settling down.
“We mades some pwetty art for your office and I gots a new book and—and I saw a ‘pider. Mommy scweamed so loud,” she laughs, wiggling closer to you.
His brow lifts, the did you so apparent in his playful expression that you roll your eyes in response. “I mean, I might have shouted but anyone would have," you say with a sniff. "The thing was trying to attack me."
“Me and Mr. Tato saved you. Right mommy?” Bee interjects with a proud grin, her adorable chubby cheeks jutting out.
Bucky’s brow inches up even more.Amusement blooming in his gaze as he takes in the two of you.
In your defense, you were minding your own business, painting in your studio when the spider decided it was going to swing down and land right on your shirt, startling you. You had just started to swipe at it when Bee waddled over, launching her stuffed dino at you with a fierce “get him Mr. Tato.”
Which technically saved you because it knocked the spider to the floor, far away from you.
She spent the rest of the afternoon protecting you while you finished your painting, taking her bodyguard duties very seriously. You can’t wait to show Bucky the video you took of her standing guard in her bear onesie. You both stopped after a couple of hours to take a much needed nap and wait for Bucky to come home.
“Yes, you did sweet Bee." Her face lights up when you drop a kiss on her head. "Why don’t you tell your Papa about the new drawings you made for him and how one of them is going on the wall?”
Her attention turns to him and she describes what she made. Bucky intertwines his fingers between yours, his thumb sweeping across the back of your hand in lazy patterns. He attentively listens to Bee tell him all about her art, encouraging her excitement with the occasional question. You watch as the stress melts off him in waves, leaving only serene happiness simmering in his deep blue eyes.
This is exactly what he needed after the day he had. His family beside him, his entire world in his arms, reminding him of what matters most to him.
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