i don't think i know what a regular photo looks like anymore

Having an exit plan.

Hello, love bugs !!

Dan x reader

 Warnings – anxiety, panic attacks, agoraphobia, social anxiety, Claustrophobia. 

Could you please do a Dan x reader that has Agoraphobia? Thanks:)


Vid-Con it can literally be the best or worst time in your life. Meeting your favourite You Tubers and meeting all sorts of new friends was a given. The biggest problem for you, however, was the crowds of people. Dan and Phil always made sure you felt as safe as possible. The security team was the best that you could ever ask for. The biggest problem for you was the sheer amount of people. Even though you could always take a break from the crowds you felt this weird sense of duty to meet and talk to anyone that wanted to talk to you. Having tons of people waiting just as long to talk to Dan and Phil just to talk to you made you feel terrible if you heard that someone was upset they didn’t get to meet you.

 Ever since your relationship become public your life changed more than you ever expected. Your Tumblr and snap chat were the only social medias you had public. You would spend hours at night just talking to people on Tumblr. People would send you asks about your relationship with Dan to questions about anything and everything. Meeting all of these people in person was weird. They knew so much about you while you were just getting to know them. 

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Prompt: Ian asking Mickey about the lesbian porn

// so yeah this went on a tangent because I did backstory. but I hope it’s ok? //

Mickey had realised he was gay around the age he was expected to become obsessed with porn.

Since he was about ten, his father had begun tossing magazines at him, magazines with page after page of skinny girls with soft hips, huge tits and even bigger asses. His dad had just said ‘enjoy.’ Mickey didn’t know what he was supposed to enjoy about these magazines, though.

A couple of years later, and it clicked. His brother - unintentionally - showed him. So Mickey went back to his room and pulled one of the crumpled issues out of his drawer. He opened it randomly and saw a skinny, pale girl with long dark hair and bangs. Mickey turned the page, shuddering. The picture reminded of him too much of Mandy. Then he found a girl with masses of blonde curls and pink lips that smiled teasingly. And he tried. He really did. He stuck his hand in his pants and stared in earnest at the picture. Nothing. He frowned. It had to be the girl. Maybe blonde wasn’t his type. The next page housed a smaller, hispanic girl. He tried again and still, nothing.

Within an hour, he’d exhausted the magazine, plus two others. Mickey threw the third time unlucky across the room and buried his head in his pillow. What the fuck was wrong with him?

-

A year or so later, it was Mandy’s thirteenth birthday. Like with any Milkovich birthday, the family had bought - well, mostly stolen - gifts. Mandy was their little sister and the only girl, though, so Mickey and his brothers had probably tried a little harder than they did for each other. Terry, as always, didn’t know it was her birthday.

'How old now, huh?’ He grunted as he stumbled through the kitchen, still half drunk.

'Thirteen. I told you. Last night,’ Mandy said quietly.

'What happened last night?’ asked Mickey.

Mandy shook her head. 'Nothing,’ she murmured, angrily jabbing a knife into the butter. 'Give me some fucking presents,’ she said, feigning brightness so well that her three brothers didn’t notice something was off.

Mickey had stolen her some perfume from the mall, and made her a shiv. 'So you can defend yourself when I’m not around,’ he explained. She smiled and hugged him tight. He shrank away from her a little, feeling like he was supposed to.

'I love it,’ she told him. Mickey was her favourite brother, though she’d never tell the other two. He smiled back.

Iggy thumped a brown paper bag down in front of her. 'Enjoy sis. You’re a woman now,’ he winked.

She tentatively opened the bag. 'Porn, really?’ she smirked, taking three or four magazines and some DVDs out of the bag. Mickey only caught a glimpse of the magazines from across the table, but they seemed like the girl version of his magazines, ie, naked dudes instead of naked chicks. He felt his breath catch in his throat just glancing at them. The DVDs were unlabelled and looked illegal, but that was nothing new. She raised her eyebrows and slid the stuff back into the bag. 'Thanks,’ she said, awkward but amused.

Mickey couldn’t keep his eyes off the bag all through breakfast.

-

His brothers had gone out, probably to rob some convenience stores, and his dad was cashing welfare checks and then going to get drunk again. Just Mickey and Mandy were left. They cleaned up the kitchen then watched some South Park. Mickey was only half watching.

After the fourth episode ended, his sister got up and grabbed a jacket. 'I’m meeting some friends from school. We’re going to the mall and getting pizza later. See you,’ she said, slamming the door. Mickey walked steadily over to the window and watched her walk away. As soon as she turned the corner, he bolted towards the kitchen, grabbed the bag and went back to his room. He hooked a chair over the door handle, just in case someone came home unexpectedly, and sat on the edge of his bed. He carefully took a magazine out of the bag and opened it.

He got that feeling again, that strange feeling somewhere between his heart and his stomach. And then another feeling in his dick. This was what it was supposed to be, Mickey realised, this is what he was supposed to feel when he looked at those girls. But for him, it was happening with guys.

He didn’t know what this meant. But he couldn’t even focus on anything else; right now, all he could see was the man on the page. Tall, tan. Up to his ears in muscles. He felt himself moaning, and almost automatically reached for his dick. 'Shit,’ he gasped, eyes locked on the photo. Well fuck if this wasn’t the greatest thing he’d ever felt in his life.

-

When he was done, Mickey tried to smooth out the magazine, but realised it was useless. It was obvious that someone had used it. He bit his lip. Mandy wouldn’t miss one, surely? There were three more in the bag. Besides, he’d barely cracked the surface of the magazine in his hand. So he put it in the drawer with his others.

He walked slowly back to the kitchen and put the bag back on the table. As he washed his hands, the back door opened and Iggy entered. 'Hey,’ Mickey greeted his brother, acting casual.

Iggy nodded at him. 'What’s going on, little brother?’

Mickey shrugged, getting a bottle of juice from the fridge. He stood in the doorway, toying with it absently. 'Ig, can I ask you something?’

'Shoot,’ Iggy replied, kicking his boots off and sitting at the table.

Mickey sat opposite, trying to figure out how to phrase it. 'You know the magazines?’

Iggy nodded, reaching into his pocket. 'How many you need?’ he asked, tossing a few magazines of bullets across.

Mickey sighed. 'No - well, sure, thanks - no, I mean the ones with the naked chicks.’

Iggy grinned. 'Yeah?’

Mickey looked down. 'I - I was wondering. What if you liked the ones without naked chicks?’

His brother frowned, not understanding. 'You mean like a regular magazine? Tv guide, rolling stone or some shit?’

Mickey groaned. 'How fucking dumb are you, Ig…no, asshole, I mean the ones you got Mandy. With naked dudes,’ he said quietly.

'Those ones are for girls or for - oh, shit,’ Iggy’s mouth was open as he realised what his brother was saying. 'You’re a homo?’

Mickey froze. 'I - no. I don’t know. Fuck, I’m not. No,’ he stuttered. 'I was just curious, like, what it would mean. If you jerked off to those pictures.’

'You jerked off to them?’

'No,’ he said, far too quickly.

Iggy raised his eyebrows. 'Look, some guys like guys. Some guys like girls and guys. It’s - whatever. It is what it is. But don’t let the neighbourhood find out. And don’t let dad find out.’

'Why? And I’m not - that,’ Mickey muttered.

'Dad fucking hates homos, Mick. You’re too young to remember, but…one time he saw two guys just holding hands. And he just went mad. Beat 'em, pistol whipped 'em. Fucking shot them in the legs.’

Mickey clasped his hands, breathing carefully. He felt sick and panicked. He didn’t want to think about what his dad would do if he’d caught Mickey earlier.

'Don’t you - don’t you hate them too?’ he asked Iggy quietly.

'Fuck, no. I don’t love 'em, I’m not going to dance in a fucking parade with 'em or anything. But I don’t hate 'em. They’ve never done anything to me.’

Mickey nodded. 'So you’re - neutral?’

'Ay, that’s the word.’ The brothers were quiet for a moment. 'Look, Mick, you’re barely fifteen. Whether you are or not, keep quiet about it for your own sake. Trust me on this.’

-

Mickey promptly, albeit reluctantly, got rid of the magazine from his drawer.

Then he began putting posters of girls up on his bedroom wall.

And then he bought some dirty movies and left the discs scattered around his room.

Anyone who looked inside his room would have assumed he was straight as could be. And Mickey desperately wanted them to assume correct.

He told himself he’d only jerked off once to pictures of guys. So it didn’t count.

He conveniently forgot about the many, many failed attempts to jerk off the pictures of girls.

Mickey forced himself to study the pictures. Stared hard at the lips and the breasts. 'This is what you’re supposed to like,’ he muttered as he tried to get hard. 'Come on, you piece of shit,’ he said through gritted teeth.

He laid awake at night, trying again in the dark. When he closed his eyes, and relaxed, it started to work. But then he found himself picturing guys. It’d been months, and those men from the magazine were still burned into his brain. He tried to push them out. 'No, fuck,’ he whispered angrily into his pillow. It was no use. So he stopped. He didn’t want to finish, not to a guy.

Mickey reached for his bedside light and flicked it on. He stared at the naked form of an anonymous woman on the wall beside him. Nothing. Not one fucking thing. He turned the light off and threw himself back onto the pillows in defeat. Mickey was crying.

-

A week later and they were in the living room, in front of the tv. Mickey wasn’t really paying attention; he and Mandy were cleaning and sharpening the family knives. He didn’t know how many there were. He’d stopped counting a long time ago.

Suddenly his Dad shouted angrily at the tv, throwing his crumpled up beer can at it.

'What’s wrong?’ Mandy asked absently.

'Fucking queers,’ Terry growled.

Mickey’s head snapped up. The tv was tuned into CNN. Some state somewhere had legalised gay marriage. There were people holding banners and flags, cheering, dancing. They looked so happy. The camera panned to a couple kissing in celebration. Two men. That’s when his dad lost it completely. But Mickey barely heard the hatred spewing from his father’s mouth. He was fixated on the way they were holding each other, looking into each others eyes. They didn’t seem scared. They were smiling. And they looked like they had no worry anymore. And they were kissing in broad daylight, on tv. Mickey felt an ache somewhere in his chest. The happiness he saw onscreen would never be found on the Southside. Their biggest problem had just been fixed. Mickey’s biggest problem was existing.

His dad whacked him over the head as he walked past, jerking him out of his thoughts. 'Don’t look too long, they’ll turn you,’ he said. 'I’m going to the Alibi,’ he told his kids.

Mickey slowly stood up and turned the tv off. Mandy was looking at him curiously. 'Mick? You ok?’

He frowned. 'Course I am.’

'You know Dad’s a piece of shit? Don’t listen to him about that.’ She paused. 'Its fine if you’re gay. I mean, don’t tell him. But don’t go around thinking it’s wrong or something.’

Mickey stared at his little sister. He wanted to thank her, he wanted to tell her everything, wanted to ask her how she got so cool, wanted to hug her and to cry. But he didn’t. 'You think I’m a fucking faggot?’ he spat at her. 'Shut up.’

'Mick, I -’

'Shut up - shut the fuck up, Mandy,’ he yelled. He stormed off towards his room.

She gave him a moment, then went to stand by his door. 'Mick?’ she said softly. He didn’t answer. She came in. He didn’t have the heart to tell her to fuck off. He was crouched on the floor at the foot of his bed. She carefully sat beside him. 'I don’t know if you’re gay. And I never said you were. But I know that on my birthday, Iggy gave me four dirty magazines, not three. And I know that I found the fourth in the trash.’ He looked at her fearfully. His eyes were heavy with tears, and he couldn’t move. But her eyes were kind. 'C'mere’ she muttered, pulling him into a sideways hug, his head on her shoulder.

They sat quietly for a while. 'I’m not gay,’ Mickey whispered tightly through his tears. Neither of them were convinced.

'Ok. It’s ok,’ she said.

-

The next morning, Mickey woke up to find an old envelope slid under his door. It read 'just in case’, in Mandy’s scrawl. Inside, were the DVDs that Iggy had given her. He almost threw them out right there. But they were blank, like all the other porn DVDs in his room. So he tossed them onto his desk and tried not to think about them.

-

He watched one the next day.

Grabbed one of the many stolen laptops from the kitchen and went back to his room.

Shakily inserted one.

Pressed play.

It was an utter revelation. And he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

But still, he told himself he wasn’t gay. Over and over.

He’d just watched one movie, one time. That didn’t mean anything.

Except it quickly became three movies. Eight movies. He bought more DVDs and beat up the guy who sold them to him, to keep him quiet. Twelve movies. Twenty four movies. A little after that, he stopped counting.

But he still wasn’t gay. This was just something he did for fun. It meant nothing. He didn’t even like guys. He liked girls. He loved girls.

He would never fuck a guy for real. Never. Because he wasn’t gay.

He snapped each DVD in half when he was done and took it to the trashcan outside the supermarket, six blocks over.

He told himself the exercise would do him good.

-

One morning, Mickey woke to find Ian Gallagher in his room. Like with any intruder, he pinned him down and prepared to fuck him up. But for some wild reason he wound up just fucking him instead.

He’d never done it. With anyone.

He’d seen enough of those movies to know what to do.

It felt ridiculously great.

He let the Gallagher kid pound the shit out of him. In a good way.

Being so close to another guy like this - he could smell him, all over. And shit, when Ian pushed his dick into Mickey, when he could feel him there, when he was hurting but happy - he had a short moment free of all the hate that he constantly shackled himself with.

They had barely finished before Terry stumbled in, needing the bathroom. Both boys froze. Thank god Terry was too drunk and high to notice.

As they shrugged their clothes back on, Ian moved like he was going to kiss him. Mickey swerved and told him to fuck off.

He went to get coffee while Ian let himself out. As he drank, the hatred slowly began sinking back in.

He wasn’t gay. They’d never kissed. He’d just fucked Gallagher for fun. To get some.

He wasn’t gay because it didn’t mean anything. It would only mean something if they kissed. So they’d keep hooking up. But they’d never kiss. Mickey would make sure.

Maybe Gallagher was gay - that’s why he wanted to kiss - but Mickey wasn’t gay. And he didn’t want to kiss Ian. Didn’t even think twice about his lips. Didn’t fall asleep thinking about Ian’s mouth. Couldn’t still feel him inside.

Because he wasn’t fucking gay.

-

He kept fucking Gallagher. He couldn’t help himself.

He kept his distance, though. He didn’t talk to him. He didn’t hang out with him. They weren’t friends. They sure as shit weren’t boyfriends.

And Mickey would go home and jerk off. He’d stare at the posters of girls on his wall, but the whole time he’d be thinking of Ian.

He’d recently bought a couple of posters of skinny, flat chested girls with red hair, cut short. And when he dimmed the lights and closed his eyes until they were only slightly open, he could pretend it was Gallagher’s picture.

But it wasn’t. It was a girl. He was getting off to a girl’s picture. So he wasn’t gay.

-

He wound up in juvie again. He told himself he didn’t miss Gallagher.

-

One day, a guy started coming on to Mickey. He was careful, but eventually decided it was fine. Guys in prison fucked all the time. Didn’t mean they were gay.

The guy got him alone. But then two other guys jumped out of the shadows. It had been a setup.

They pounded the shit out of him. Not in a good way.

-

'How’s juvie?’ came Mandy’s voice down the phone.

'It’s fine. It’s juvie,’ he answered blankly.

'Whatever, just trying to make conversation.’ They paused. 'You want me to send you anything?’

'Yeah, smokes and porn.’

'Ok. I’ll figure out where to get your porn, and what kind of smokes -’

'What are you talking about?’

'I -’

'What do you mean, 'your porn’, like it’s different or something? I just need regular porn,’ he barked.

'Mick, for fucks sake, you’re nearly eighteen. How much longer are you gonna keep pretending? I know the porn you like, I know what you like,’ she said, firm but gentle.

'I’m not fucking gay, Mandy,’ he hissed.

'Well. At least you actually said the word,’ she commented. 'What do you want then?’

'Get me girl-on-girl.’

'You - you want lesbian porn?’ she spluttered incredulously.

'Yeah. Regular porn has guys in too. Lesbo porn doesn’t. Now do you believe I’m not fucking gay?’

She sighed. 'I’ll send you the porn, Mickey, but I don’t believe you.’

-

He was out of juvie a couple months later. Overcrowding, good behaviour, whatever.

Ian and Mandy came to get him. Seeing Gallagher felt like being punched in the stomach. He’d changed. He somehow looked hotter. All Mickey wanted was to undress him and fuck him, right there on the sidewalk. He wanted to kiss him. Throw him up against the wall and press their lips hard together and fucking taste him.

But mostly he just wanted to be with Ian. In any way. He’d missed him.

Maybe he was gay.

-

'Can I ask you something?’ said Ian from beside him.

'Sure,’ Mickey said, passing him the shared cigarette.

Ian took a drag, considering. 'It was ages ago. When you were in juvie?’ Mickey nodded slowly. 'I asked Mandy about you. And she said you wanted girl-on-girl porn.’

Mickey took the cigarette back awkwardly. ’ Yeah. Yeah, I asked her to send me some.’

'Why?’

Mickey sighed. 'Do we have to fucking talk about this? Why do you even want to know?’

Ian turned to face him. 'Yeah, we do. I was always curious.’ Mickey frowned. He was quiet, just looking at Ian helplessly. 'You can tell me.’

'I - look at first it was to pretend I wasn’t gay. To Mandy, to the others in juvie. To myself.’ Ian nodded, letting him continue. 'But, then she sent it. It was just pictures. It didn’t turn me on or whatever. But…the girls. They were gay. Or at least pretending to be. Gay - like me,’ he said quietly. Ian was staring at him, somewhere between surprise and sadness. 'And it was like…they were full on gay, the pictures. So fucking open and unapologetic. And I thought, looking at them - people like this. People are cool with this. People get off to this. Not just people - I mean, sure, girls - but loads of guys too. They - they get off to gayness. And I know it’s all fake and whatever…but it was nice. And for the first time…I felt like it was maybe ok. Ok to be gay. I don’t know why it was porn that showed me it was ok, but it did. And I know I was still a closeted little shit for a while after, but I was starting to think it was alright. And it wasn’t wrong…but most of all I actually began to quietly admit it to myself. Looking at it every day, it gave me some hope.’ He paused. 'I know that sounds weird or whatever -’

'No, no,’ Ian stopped him, holding his hand. 'That’s - oh shit, c'mere,’ he murmured, pulling him into a firm kiss. 'I’d never thought about it like that,’ he smiled softly, hugging him. 'Your fucking head, man. I’ll never understand it but I love it,’ he told him.

'Right back at you,’ Mickey said.

Ian laughed. 'Seriously. Thanks for telling me.’ They sat there together for a while. 'That’s kind of awesome, though. Fucking strange, but awesome.’

Mickey shrugged. 'Thank god for lesbians.’

Ian chuckled into his shoulder. 'Thank god for lesbians.’

-

// ok I hope you enjoyed it?! please send me prompts!! :) //

anonymous asked:

whoa that anon is def not speaking for all antis when they say most of us are sticking around for solo harry. idk what blogs they're reading but I don't think it's a wide sample. but if you think Larries are staying in their own lane, I have… no idea where you've been the past 5 years. have you ever looked on social media? ever? why do you think people (who GENUINELY don't have "actual proof") feel empowered to harass everyone associated with Harry & Louis? Cos they're told NEVER to doubt Larry.

You kind of proved my point there, didn’t you?  “Not all anti’s” think that the band is breaking up.  Well, “not all larries” stray out of their lane. I don’t and the vast majority of the people that are being harassed by antis, like @lesbianslovelouis, don’t either.

Dude, there are no Larrie blogs with more than 3 followers (if any) that create blogs with “anti-larrie” URL’s and spend their day talking about how mentally ill antis are. Sure there are a few that get fed up and waste some time being publicly frustrated at the hate they get, but YOU are not the main topic of conversation day in and day out. Harry, Louis, and the band are.

The Twitter Larries that answer “LARRY IS REAL” on every tweet by anyone associated with 1D? They annoy us too. The people that comment “Freddie is fake” on all IG photos?  Not us and we frequently bemoan the intrusive and counter-productive nature of that behavior.  The people that do that are not the same people that get hate in their Tumblr asks.

But who is being dragged by people on your side with URL’s specifically designed to bully and badger Larries? The ones that have fun with other Larries, the ones that have nuanced and in depth discussions about sexuality and human nature, the ones DO have the proof that you claim we don’t have, but that are too ethical to share the details publicly.

My friend Amy gets dragged constantly every single day for having what is basically a fanfic IG about Harry & Louis having kids. Yes, she (and I) think Freddie is fake, but we’re not the ones pushing that ON anyone. Anymore than, I will assume, you are the anti that responds to Louis’ tweets about sick and dying children with “FUCK ME IN THE ASS LOUIS”.

So, I think we can agree that “Not all ANYONE” yeah?  But if you or your friends get hate from Larries in your inbox, it’s not from any of the more popular Larry blogs that openly and actively try to and say to ignore you. And I can only think of a small handful of posts that have gone around where anti opinions have been screenshot and circulated for a laugh. There are NO Larrie blogs that do that ALL THE FUCKING TIME. You can’t tell me the same because I saw three yesterday.

The anti blogs I’ve seen that claim not to hate us, they just “want us to stop” are lying. You don’t spend your entire fandom experience literally mocking and demeaning people in order to reasonably persuade people to join your team. You find us disrespectful for thinking Freddie isn’t real? I get that, but don’t you have other topics to talk about on the regular?  We’re talking about it because it’s current and we find it quite fascinating. You guys seem to talk about us like a feminist blog that does nothing but reblog revenge porn to gasp at how terribly the women are treated. How does that help stop it from happening? Maybe try being happy about something else instead of trying to make others miserable, both Larries and the people that are reading your blog that don’t want to see our theories.

You realize that if you’re right, we are going to stop talking about it in the near future, right? If Freddie is not a doll, then within a few months there will be something that proves that to the majority beyond a reasonable doubt. But we’re not going to stop believing in Larry, so you anti-Larries will continue your campaign to mock and demean us until what? Until absolutely no one on social media disagrees with you?  That’s not going to happen. Ever.

So when you can convince the ones with the blogs dedicated to Larries to shut the fuck up and leave us alone, you’ll probably find that the hate you get from the smaller, more volatile Larries that are seeking to defend the blogs that they admire will decrease quite a bit.  

Keep on with your occasional “debunk” posts and posts having a laugh at our theories, nothing wrong with that. But dedicating your entire fandom blog to nothing but hating on a group within your same fandom is nasty. And I honestly don’t know how you defend that.