#it's overall just weird to see in this day and age and I feel dumbfounded lol

[nr0r]

" Women are harder than men to write/draw" is a fandom take old as time that I simply cannot understand despite having done both and shipped both.

Just bring your usual imagination and sense of fun to the table, and most importantly, write women like you do people. It's condescending sounding advice, but I really can't think of another way to put it more concisely. Write a person and switch the gender to 'girl' and bam! Woman written.

[togetherweflyhigh]

Chronicles Of Owning A Hybrid| Chapter 1: Here You Are

Pairing: Ragdoll Hybrid! Yoongi x Owner! Female Reader 

Genre: Hybrid AU, slow burn, eventual romance

Trigger Warnings: Brief mentions of past harassment/bullying, brief mentions of being gaslighted

W/C: 2.2k 

A/N: So, I wrote something. This was very spontaneous of me but this is my first BTS and hybrid related fic. I very much have plans to have this as a small series. From short to long chapters. I have no idea how much this will be updated. 

Comments and kudos are encouraged! 

It wasn’t supposed to happen, truthfully.

You were asked by a friend to attend a consultation with them because they felt nervous about going in alone. They needed some support so, going with them was going to be fine. Because that’s all that was supposed to happen. 

Now, here you were at your appointment, alone because you weren’t sure how to ask your friend since they were home still getting associated with their hybrid. Nobody knew you were here doing this. Reviewing over a cat hybrid- a Ragdoll- that was on his fourth strike. 

Past families that adopted this hybrid before only saw the breed he was. A pretty Ragdoll cat. Not the human he mostly presented as. They thought that just because he was mixed with a Ragdoll meant he would be gentle, calm, and sociable. A known cat breed to be perfect with families. What they got was the complete opposite.

The most they seemed to be able to tell you was he’d been adopted four times already, the longest housing being six months. He was quiet and didn’t interact much with the other hybrids in the shelter. Mostly stayed in the same areas in the room they had for them. The way they spoke about him, made you think they were trying to discourage you from adoption. You couldn’t see what was so wrong with him even when they were describing him as distant and antisocial, overall unfriendly. It still didn’t make you rethink it for some reason. Something in you wanted to give him a place to call home after hearing all this.

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

A few weeks went by with no word from the shelter. You were starting to think the extra shifts for the past month and a half at work for preparation were in vain. Perhaps they were being more cautious of his strikes and worried you would return him like all the others. If it was, for this reason, you really couldn’t blame them to be picky about who was to attempt adopting him next. You could only hope they cared so much for those in their care.

As you washed some dishes that had been a bit overdue, your phone rang. You weren’t quick to answer, at first, as hope had gone from high to low in the few weeks. Though, you still dried your hands-off because it could have been work. Who knew you’d be seeing the number you’d familiarize yourself with. Your heartbeat must have doubled as you stumbled over, sliding the answer button. “H-Hello?” You answered, cringing over your nervous voice. “This is Hope’s Shelter calling for (Y/N)(L/N), we were wondering if you were still interested in adopting?” The words felt like they were going through one ear and out the other. You weren’t all too sure what to expect when answering the call but hope had suddenly being reassured. “Yes, of course!” You answered almost too quickly. The eagerness felt as if it was spilling out of you at this point. “Great! Would Thursday be fine for you to come in?” It was currently Monday, another few days was nothing to wait for after these weeks. “That works out perfectly.” 

After the short goodbyes were said, you stood there in your kitchen nearly dumbfounded. You were officially days away from adopting a hybrid. Suddenly, the mixed feeling of excitement and worry came over you. The first week was only filled with thoughts of not living in your apartment alone anymore. In the past, you had roommates. Some worked out just fine and others not so much. To the point, you never wanted to experience them again unless it was a close friend. 

The second week was filled with doubts of if you even seemed worthy enough to take care of another, especially when the other couldn’t exactly take care of themselves. Hybrids didn’t have much freedom. They couldn’t go anywhere alone without their owners. Unless they were service hybrids, which there was a lot to go through to get them certified. They really couldn’t do anything and suddenly thinking about that, you realize how weird it’s going to be for someone to call or to even refer to you as their ‘owner’ will be. 

There was no way in hell you could treat hybrids as a pet. They were way more human than human and capable of feelings of understanding, not at all saying normal animals weren’t capable of such. There were a few times you’d gone over to a friend’s house and they introduced you to their hybrid. Sure they had some traits of the animal they were mixed with, but they acted like their human part in front of you for the most part. This was nearly the only time you’d interacted with hybrids. So, the experience was on the low of how they truly acted behind closed doors.

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

The few days of waiting went by sluggishly. Mentally you had a list of things to do or things you thought you needed to do before Thursday. You went out and bought a few different types of clothes, not much as you had no idea of what he would like. Bought more food than you’d ever stocked your home with before, again, not knowing what he would like. There was so much you didn’t even know about him yet, not even his name.

Standing in front of the shelter, the weeks and days of waiting were finally over. The nerves and enthusiasm had mellowed out in the slow waiting days. Though, you couldn’t help feel a little nervous walking into the shelter.

Almost immediately, you were pulled into an office to go over some paperwork. It was nearly the same as papers to adopt a normal animal. It didn’t seem as strict since you didn’t need things for an animal. Though, you were surprised at how they didn’t seem so… disheartening towards you anymore.

Signing the papers felt unreal as the pen glided across the paper. You had officially adopted a hybrid.

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

Being a hybrid wasn’t all it was cut out to be, at least, not for Yoongi. Spending nearly all his life in the shelter. Maybe a year and a half were in actual homes. It was probably not even that if he was being honest with himself, but after the third home, he stopped counting the days and hoping.  

The first time he was adopted, he was around ten years old, a little old for being adopted but nothing too bad. The family was looking for a hybrid around their twin son and daughter’s age, and Yoongi just happened to be two years younger than them. It was perfect they thought. It seemed like a happy family a month in but there was change. The children were constantly harassing him, pulling his ears and tail, pressured him to do things that would get the adults involved to the point of punishments. 

It went on for months before they returned him, saying he was a deceiver and untameable. Yoongi was unsure of what they meant by this as it was their children who were the liars. Even when he told the caregivers of the time he had with them, it never seemed like they thought he was telling the truth either.

It was some years before Yoongi was adopted again. Age thirteen going on fourteen. He was adopted by a young couple. Must have been between the ages twenty-two to twenty-five. He never got around to asking because as soon as he was there he was brought back. The couple seemed to want to prove to themselves that they could take care of another breathing being. That is what he gathered by overhearing them a few times. All it did was tear them apart in the end over disagreements on how to take care of him.

The next two times were practically the same. One was lonely while the other was another person trying to prove something to themselves. Yoongi was done with these humans and their selfish ways. He didn’t want to attempt to get close with them anymore when he knew that they would return him like a replaceable item in the end. 

Yet, another was trying to adopt him again. ‘I’m too old for this.’ He thought to himself when he was dragged into the office to be told someone was interested in him. Being twenty-five years old as a hybrid was considered old. Unadoptable. Plus he was on his fourth strike. A fifth- and by law- would mean he would have to be put to sleep. 

The weeks dragged on because of him constantly denying to see through with this person’s desire to adopt him. It was an actual decision between life and death. He thought about it though. Would he rather be stuck in here? Wasting away inclosed in white walls or to live out in the world just a little bit longer, if the person would let him out that was.

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

The introduction of you and the hybrid, who you now knew as Yoongi was, well, short and awkward. Was it to be expected? The short answer is yes. Yoongi seemed unfazed and distant right away which, in a way, you know he would be like this. The real question was, was he always going to be like this. You were new to each other, so feeling like strangers was going to be present for a while. 

The taxi ride home was silent. Nothing but the sound of wheels on the pavement with random songs playing on the radio softly. You wanted to make some kind of conversation with Yoongi, you did, but with awkwardness still lingering heavily in the air, it was difficult to start with anything. It was interesting to spot his ears out of the corner of your eye, twitching ever so often.

The climb up the stairs was just as silent. Nothing but the taps of feet with some huffs from you nearly the top. No matter how many times you’d walked up these four flights of stairs, you were sure to always be out of breath before reaching your door. 

By the time you reached your door, you were indeed out of breath, and with the last huff, you pulled out your key unlocking the door, pushing it open revealing the seemingly small apartment. “And home.” You spoke out as you began pulling your shoes off, placing them on a rack before slipping into house slippers. “Oh, here’s some slippers for you. If you want to wear them.” You already owned some for when you had guests but you went ahead and bought new ones specially for Yoongi. Looking at them now, they seemed a bit… small. Though it didn’t seem to matter as Yoongi slipped off the shoes the shelter provided and ignored the slippers. 

“I have a room for you ready.” You spoke again after a moment of silence. Seems silence between you two was something you were going to have to get used to. Walking through the kitchen and living area- either side had a room the same size. Though the room to the right used to be your storage and office space, you were able to move things around in your room for your desk and got rid of some stuff you’ve been meaning to. Now the once-office turned back to a bedroom. It was pretty bare besides the matching wood bed and dresser you’d bought.

Moving aside to the doorframe, allowing Yoongi in the room to inspect it. His eyes never seemed to stop taking in things. His ears moved with him as he looked around and his tail was low as the tip curled to one side. 

As he took in the new home, you took in his unique hair color. It was probably the Ragdoll genes but the contrast between his hair and the fur on his ears and tail were a bit different. His hair was silver-grey and as for the fur, it was a bit lighter in the same color. You wondered for a moment if his DNA was manipulative to make the animal features stand out more but you quickly shook the thought away. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable even though it was just a thought. 

“There’s some clothes in the dresser. I wasn’t sure what you like so, there are a few things in the dresser. Just for until we go shopping.” The response you got was nothing but an ‘mhm’. Yoongi seemed uninterested but curious about the clothes you’d gotten. He wanted to know if it was the type they would get him. Well-fitted ones that rubbed and itched all over. As he pulled them out, sure enough, there were the ones he knew he would find but as he kept pulling out and unfolding the clothes he found some that were baggy and much softer. Something about watching him digging through the clothes felt endearing and it showed on your face with a small smile on your lips.

As you turned away to allow him to have some privacy you wondered to yourself what Yoongi would want to have for dinner. 

[spookybias]

[ attractiveness everywhere, stupidity everywhere ] — kang taehyun

pairing: kang taehyun x gn! reader. genre: fluff, crack. warning: mention of bugs, mc doesn't have any friends. for: @ficscafe's dialogue prompt event. word count: 1960 note: obviously i wasn't sure how to end this T_T

prompts: #22: "stop staring, it’s creepy" + #23: "what the hell are you wearing?" + #25: "you got something on your face." "what? where?" "your stupidity. it’s everywhere."

You shrieked at the sight of a tick crawling up your leg, and immediately began swatting at the skin in an attempt to slap it and any comrades that might have kept it company off of you. As a cold breeze passed, you brought your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms around yourself in a hug. The thought of more ticks crawling all over you, consuming your blood and body in their tiny, red glory, sent shivers to your spine. The wait for your guardian to come pick you up from school was beginning to feel endless, and although the sun was shining, the warmth was certainly not existent on this particular day.

The thought of having to wait longer in the chilly weather only produced more thoughts of ticks and ants and other bugs finding the time to crawl on you. Anxiously, you dusted off your tutu skirt and legs once more, and even your jean jacket every few minutes. You thought that waiting at a nearby cafe instead of at the high school grounds was a better option, considering you refused to let any of your peers find out that you were still being picked up by someone. But you weren't expecting to become the seven course meal for some ticks.

The sunlight began to beam down. You were gracious for the heat to finally be hitting your shivering physique, but immediately became irritated at the brightness that you were sure would blind you if you sat at the table for another half and hour. You rose a hand to your head, trying to block out the sunlight, and caught sight of a boy from your school making his way over.

You realized who it was, and your knees began to tingle. You were eighty-five percent sure that the tick hadn't bit you, and that the twinkling panic in your body was due to the pretty guy plopping down in one of the seats across the table. Taehyun shuffled through his backpack, pulling out some snacks.

The desire to impress one of the cool kids from you school flew in like a pigeon at the sight of bread. You leaned back in your chair, legs crossed in what you hoped was a sexy angle, and twirled a piece of your hair around your fingertips. Before you realized what you were doing, you made a mental note of everything that was attractive about taehyun; his half brown, half blonde hair, his pearly whites, and his gentle but assertive hands. overall, his face was amazing. You mumbled to yourself as you watched him eat his animal crackers, unaware of just how creepy you appeared.

"Is there something you need?" Taehyun looked up from his notebook and sighed. He picked up his pack of crackers and held them out to you. "Are you hungry? Do you want some?" He waved the food in front of your face.

You were left dumbfounded. The tone of his voice made you feel like you were some kind of wild animal trying to prey on him, and he was trying to distract you in order to escape. You knew you weren't the best around people, but never predicted that the boy you'd seen people swoon over for ages talked to others like they were beneath him. "No, I don't want anything from you." It came out much more rude than you had intended. perhaps you were something feral, and your defensive instincts had kicked in.

Taehyun blinked twice before setting his pack of crackers back down. "Stop staring, it's creepy." Then he looked down, taking note of your appearance. He had never seen someone combine a jean jacket and a tutu skirt in forty degree weather. "What the hell are you wearing?"

Feeling self-conscious, you pulled your knees up to your chest again, tugging at your skirt. "What? You think I'm weird or something?" You weren't trying to sound so targeted, but you were used to people picking on your taste in everything, and attacking first had become your immediate reaction to others. "You don't have to sit here."

"Calm down," Taehyun held his hands up with a look of so much disbelief that you wondered if you seemed like you were about to shoot. "You seemed cold, even from all the way over there." Your eyes followed his thumb pointing over his shoulder to the nearest crosswalk, the direction he had come from earlier. "And it's no wonder. You're wearing a skirt in weather like this."

"I thought I looked cute..." You mumbled into your arms crossed over your legs. "Besides, you have no control over what I wear. I can show as much leg skin as I want to." You ended your sentence with a pout.

"I'm not saying you don't look cute." Taehyun looked directly into your eyes. "It's nice seeing an already attractive person in a strange, but nice outfit." Your face started to feel hot. "And you're right, I have no control over what you want to wear. I was just concerned is all. It's freezing and I know you're cold in that skirt."

"So you care?" The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could catch a hold of what you were saying. You weren't exactly used to people who weren't your guardian worrying about you.

Taehyun rolled his eyes and flipped to a new page in his notebook. "I would rather you don't pass out from the temperature right in front of me."

"My guardian usually tells me if it's hot or cold," You went on to say, no longer remembering that Taehyun was one of the cool kids, and instead eating up the idea that someone seemed interested in you. "The sun was out, so I assumed it would be better weather today."

Look at me, you thought to yourself, talking about the weather with someone handsome.

"You have a phone right?" Taehyun suddenly questioned.

Your eyes widened, a tiny bead of sweat dripped down the side of your face. You managed to stutter out, "Y-yes. I do. W-why?"

"Phones have weather apps, idiot. Start checking yours." Taehyun didn't bother to look up from his book. You wondered if he was still interested in what you had to say, if he had more questions after this one. "If you don't have the mental capacity to do that, then at least open your window and stick your hand out."

"Oh ok." You screamed into your skull. You had let yourself get a little too excited about Taehyun's question. You were brought back to reality. Taehyun was a cool kid, and you were a weird new student, an outsider. There was no way he'd give you his number.

The clouds moved in, blocking the sunshine that had previously been annoying you. Taehyun's appearance had made you forget about your irritation entirely, though. It was silent except for the occasional sound of the cafe door a few feet away swinging open joined by the sound of a customer's footsteps as they power-walked out with whatever they had bought. You wanted to talk to Taehyun some more, but wasn't sure what you could possibly say that hadn't already been said to the boy a million times —that day.

He was just that popular.

Taehyun jumped at the sudden sound of a slap on skin. You shrieked at the sight of an ant on your leg. Taehyun could distract you from the cold and the sunlight, but not from your worst nightmare coming true.

"Oh my gosh, they're eating me!" You wailed.

"What on Earth are you talking about?" Taehyun closed his notebook and put it away. It was impossible for him to get some studying (and snacking) done with you around. "You really are crazy."

"There was an ant, and earlier there was a tick. Am I gonna die? They've been attacking me all day!"

Taehyun squinted. He wondered if you were mentally okay. Maybe the lack of social interaction was the cause of your eerie behavior. "Ants aren't much of a problem, but did the tick bite you?"

"No, I don't think so." You patted down your clothes.

"Then you're fine," Taehyun started to pack up his things. "I mean, if the tick did bite you, it's possible that your legs could go numb and you'd never walk again—"

"WHAT?!" You weren't sure if your life was flashing before your eyes or if the sun's demonic brightness had finally gotten to you.

Taehyun stared blankly at you. "You got something on your face."

"What? Where?" Panic began to strike again at the thought of a bug crawling on your cheek.

"Your stupidity. It’s everywhere." Taehyun grabbed his bag and stood up. "And I'm starting to believe it might be contagious, so I'll go now."

"You're leaving?" You scrambled around for your bag on the back of the chair and followed suit.

"Yeah, my ride should be here in a few minutes. I'm just going to stand by the corner." Taehyun walked off. You stood frozen in place.

"T-Taehyun!" You called out.

"Yes, ____?" He looked over his shoulder expectantly. "I don't have all day," He reminded as he took a look at the invisible watch on his wrist.

"You know my name?" You didn't think anyone at your school knew your name. No one talked to you unless they hadn't been paying attention to what the teacher was saying and needed a recap.

Taehyun turned around and looked at you. "Of course I know your name. We're in the same grade."

Oh. You had gotten ahead of yourself again. "Taehyun." You fiddled your fingers and lowered your voice. "Can I stand next to you while you wait for your ride?" It was silly, really, but that was the kind of person you were.

Taehyun continued walking. "Yeah, sure. Stop being creepy about it." There was a hint of teasing in his voice and a growing smile on his face. You were so stupid and weird, and that made him want to learn more about you.

And so you stood beside Taehyun for the next three minutes, utter and comforting silence surrounding you both. You thought you looked like two strangers who talked to each other and stood next to each other like they weren't strangers at all. You shook your head, letting the desire to be close to Taehyun shake. He'd probably let anyone stand next to him on the sidewalk.

A black van with tinted windows pulled up to the curb. It looked suspicious and you wondered if Taehyun was quite the suspicious character. You also wondered if you should probably run as far away as you could from the van. Then the door opened, and you caught a glimpse of an older guy with red hair sitting inside.

"Hurry up, Taehyun. We're gonna be late to game night, and I just know Beomgyu and Kai are hiding all the good cards." The guy peaked his head out and eyed you. "Taehyun you have an interesting taste."

"Your hair is weird," You immediately shot back.

Taehyun turned around. "Do you need a ride?" You gulped as you watched him put his bag in the car.

"Uh, no my guardian should be on their way. And I'm not allowed to take rides from strangers." You scratched your head awkwardly. "Not that I would want to ride with that weird guy in the back," You managed to finish.

Taehyun chuckled. "I'll leave first. Don't wait here on the corner by yourself, though. Someone might mistake you for a prostitute. It's not exactly safe," Taehyun warned. "See you at school."

"Got it." You retreated back to your empty cafe table, and watched from afar as Taehyun's car drove our of sight.

[gojology]

Jealousy. (Extra)

You can find Jealousy here: Part One Part Two Part Three 𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | sorry for the inactivity, i’ve been taking a break. regardless, i’m super happy because i finished most of my hw! someone wanted an extra of my fic Jealousy, so that’s what im doing. you may have noticed this isn’t very good, but i haven’t written in a while so bear with me :(  𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Teen! Gojo Satoru x Gender Neutral Reader 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 1167 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 |  I didn’t exactly proof read this, and it’s rushed, so expect a lot of reusing of words and just overall not amazing writing. Cursing, ALL CHARACTERS HERE ARE AGED DOWN FROM PRESENT ANIME/MANGA INTO WHEN THEY WERE TEENAGERS. 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | After confessing with Gojo Satoru himself, you and him walk on the path that would lead you back to Shoko and Geto, you two take your sweet time though, savoring the sweet, new love.

   Everything in your body was finally settling in. Your frazzled nerves had just begun to go away.    You’re walking back to the picnic, fingers intertwined with Gojo’s. Your pounding heart had subdued. Yet, you still felt fuzzy and warm, you had pinched yourself repeatedly to make sure it wasn’t a dream earlier.     The air smelled like fresh dew on grass, the scent of flowers weakly wafted in the air as well, you were drinking in the beautiful weather, enjoying the calm, quiet between the two of you.     Normally, every confession of love followed suit with cheers of joy, or perhaps a kiss, but strangely, a quiet walk through the park was something you didn’t mind.     Turning your attention towards Gojo, there was a slight curve to his lips. He didn’t smile like that often, it was either a full blown toothy grin, or nothing at all. Wind ruffling his hair, taking longer and longer strides that you couldn’t quite catch up with.     “Hey Daddy Long Legs, I’m not 6′3 you know.” you say, sarcasm and a hint of annoyance relevant in your tone.     “Oops. Sorry.” he looked down at you, stopping in his tracks.     “What? Satoru, we don’t have all the time in the world, come on, Shoko and Geto are probably waiting for us.”     ‘Why’s that matter?” crouching down so he could stare at you eye-to-eye, well, more like eye-to-glasses, you hadn’t seen his eyes too often. But when you did they were a brilliant shade of blue, flecks of different variants of the color sprinkled carelessly around, they were breathtaking. You hoped to see them more, why wouldn’t he show you them? After all, he was your... Boyfriend.     The term felt so weird to say, but so good.    “Didn’t we just start dating?” he said, cocking his head to the side, his eyebrows knitted together.     Snapping out of your daze, you study your shoes. “Well- Yes... But, that’s not the point.” your eyes flickered to the field of flowers dancing in the breeze.     “Honey, that’s entirely the point. We just got together and you’re gonna care about Shoko and Geto? You’re too considerate~” he cooed, pinching and pulling at your cheeks.     “...Is it okay if I call you honey..? Or uh, you know, pet names in general.” he added, you swear you can sense a quivering in his voice, some doubtfulness.     Biting your lip, you turn your full attention towards him, flower field be damned, you were dating the guy now, it was okay to be confident.     “...I actually prefer it.”     It took a moment to register in his probably small brain, but when it did, he beamed at you, giving a full blown smile.     “So I can call you Honey? Sugar? Cuddle Bug? Snuggle Wuffle? Snufflekins? Well I kind of already knew you were gonna say yes, by the way.” he cleared his throat, “because, I’m the strongest of all time, and I can also read minds, I swear.”     You giggle, not even realizing you were smiling at him as well, his face lit up.     “Satoru, It’s okay, just admit you were scared I was gonna say no.” He straightened himself, finally standing up. He put his hand at the back of his neck, still looking down at you.     “I wasn’t sweets, I knew you were gonna say yes, but uh, you know consent and stuff...” trailing off, he kicked at a pebble.     “I don’t think you need consent to call your significant other cute pet names, well, most of the time.” stifling a laugh, you turn to face to the very start of the pathway you and Gojo were walking on.     “Pretty, isn’t it?” he breathed. “Pretty place for a pretty person. I’m happy you told me here. Otherwise, It’d probably be when you’re fighting a curse and on the verge of death.”     “Satoru!-” Did this guy have no shame?     “What? I woulda saved you regardless, sweetheart. How am I gonna date someone that’s dead?” he chuckled, ruffling your hair.     “That’s insensitive!” you snorted, focusing your attention towards the growingly dark sky.    “It’s growing really dark, Satoru. We should head back soon.” you thought aloud, once again weaving your fingers into his hand.      “I didn’t even realize. Spending time with you makes everything fly by.” he flirted, lifting your limp hand up and kissing your skin.      You weren’t quite ready for another kiss in a span of 30 minutes.      Struggling to come up with something cheeky, you gape at him, opening and closing your mouth.     “My significant other’s a fish now? Aw whatever, you’re still cute. Want more kissies, darling?”      He doesn’t give you time to respond, instead diving face first into yours, lips interlocking. Soft, chaste kisses, there’s nothing sexual about it strangely, yet every each one still carried intimacy and love. You melt into his touch, sinking deeper and deeper into his embrace, your knees were just about to give out.      Exhaling sharply out of your nose, you could feel the cool air fanning onto your face, your skin was growing hot and sticky.    Just as you were about to try to take it a step further, he steps out of the kiss, panting heavily, drooling like an idiot.     Your brain isn’t quite working yet, and you peer at him, dumbfounded by the events that had occurred.     The still atmosphere was penetrated by the two of you panting, breathing in deeply. Your heart beating furiously, did that really just happen? Did Gojo Fucking Satoru just kiss you?      “Woah there.” panting, he crouches, looking up at you and catching his breath. “Didn’t know you were that straightforward, not now, not now baby. Didn’t you say we needed to go back to Geto and Shoko anyways?”      Trying not to whine, you clear your throat. “Oh yeah, I forgot about them.”      “Glad to know I have that effect on you.”     “Satoru!- God why did I ever have a crush on you?” slightly annoyed by his remark, you scoff.      “Because I’m handsome and strong and super cool.”      You couldn’t quite deny those claims, but your mouth was zipped shut.      “That’s what I thought.” grinning at you, yet you can only faintly make out his facial features.      “Fuck, Gojo, or uh... Baby, we gotta go! What if Shoko or Geto think we’re kidnapped or something?” Hands once again clasping with his unoccupied one, you sprinted, dragging him along the beaten trail.     “Fuck Shoko and Geto! They know I’ll protect the both of us, nothing scares me sweetheart! Let’s watch the stars together, (Y/N)!” he hollered back at you, taking longer and longer strides to catch up to you.      “Oh FUCK no baby, you are NOT beating me.” giggling, you let go of his hand, you found yourself 100 times lighter. Now sprinting at the speed of light, or at least the fastest you could run, at the entrance of the pathway. Estimating that it would take around 3 minutes of full sprinting to get to the area.      “Last one there is a rotten egg! And you don’t get any of the remaining snacks!” you screamed back at him, but he wasn’t there.     Looking forward, you realize Gojo is now ahead of you by a landslide. Yelling unintelligibly about the tasty remaining snacks in the basket. Atleast, that’s what you assume he’s yelling about, but you were sure he would save some for you.    Today, was a good day.

[sinister-stuff-and-things]

Lone, lone, lonely, chapter 3

A/N: Okay so. I dont know what this is or why it took so long or if anybody even cares anymore, but I’ve had this sitting in my work in progress ordner for... I wanna say over a year? So with the help of my lovely friend @not-safeforsanders and honestly a fucking miracle, I managed to finish it. I know I planned for three more parts to this soooo... see you in two years. Chapter 1  Chapter 2

Taglist: @sanderssidessmutmonth  @smuttysanderssidestwopointoh @wellthatsonewaytofuckyourself @vanitasequilibriumsmut @karmel-slave-to-sin @sanderssidesnsfw @tisiswheremysmuthappens @sanderssidesstuffs001 @melchann @saderssinsss @fand-ore @peachy-patton-writes @follow-the-bouncing-ball @khadij-al-kubra @unchainedkinks @little-lovebug-safespace @sanderssidesnsfw

Warnings: Its smut. Crying.

They bickered the whole morning, much to Logan's and Virgil's amusement. It felt weird to be the centre of attention, to be the object of desire. He had never thought he could enjoy this so much. 

He ended up choosing Patton for his first 'date'. Simply because they knew each other the longest and because, the day he had planned out for them sounded delightful. 

They would spend the entire time at home, baking pizza together and indulging in some of their favourite movies. It was a slow start, just the right thing to ease him in, unlike Roman's elaborate ideas that just made him nervous, or Virgil's hesitancy to take control. But he didn't outright object to them. He was still looking forward to it, just... not for now. 

The thing with Virgil is, that he would be just as nervous as Logan himself. They would end up just doing nothing and existing quietly alongside each other, which Logan usually adores, but... this was not the point of the experiment. He had to try new things, break out of his routine and that could only happen if he was the one to take the first step. In Virgil's case at least. Logan needed to collect confidence through the other two, he needed someone who could guide him through the experience for now. 

Patton was the perfect choice. 

They decided to do it as soon as possible, neither of them could stand this tension any longer and a sunday seemed to be the perfect day for this kind of date.

It was exactly what Logan needed. Calm, easy and predictable. Patton managed to calm his nerves each and every time with an impossibly silly pun or just a simple smile, his touches staying soft and gentle, almost casual while they danced around each other in the kitchen. 

He knew he could bail out at any second, if he needed to. Just go to his room and the whole thing would be over, no hard feelings, no consequences, no nothing. 

But he also knew, the moment of truth would come eventually. 

This kept the anticipation bubbling in his stomach but thankfully never quite turned into unbearable anxiety. 

After baking the Pizza and cleaning the flour from every surface and themselves, they sat down on the couch to start the first movie. And there they stayed. Just lounging around on the couch, the curly head chasing the physical contact like a dog chasing a treat, but Logan enjoyed it. He was used to Patton needing a lot of affection and finally having someone this close again, made something inside him finally warm up a bit . It felt right. 

They only got up to get drinks and their food or for occasional bathroom breaks but other than that, they stayed linked, at least one body part always touching the other one. Patton's head in Logan's lap, Logan's feet draped over Patton's legs, hands intertwined, arms curled around each other. 

And then realisation struck. 

Halfway through Lilo and Stitch, Logan realised that this, exactly this, was all he had ever wanted. If relationships could be this easy, this natural, he would say yes in a heartbeat. 

The domesticity of it all, that's what got him in the end. 

And then, he was just moving, leaning down and tilting Patton's face upward, connecting their lips in a soft kiss and finding himself never wanting to let go again. 

Kissing Patton was easy, it came natural to him. Lips moving against each other, hands getting lost in hair and soft breaths being shared between kisses. 

Eventually, the smaller one climbed into Logan's lap, wrapping his arms around his neck and just pulling him close, letting him brush his fingertips up and down his spine. 

Soon, Patton's lips connected with Logan's sensitive neck, kissing a line up and nipping at his ear. 

“You know... you can always say no but uhm... I would love to move this to the bedroom.” 

Logan nodded. Within barely a second of the offer, he had already agreed and it surprised them both. 

Theoretically, they could just do it right here on the couch. No one was around to disturb them, but it was important to Patton that Logan felt as comfortable as possible and he figured his partner would need a bit of structure to calm his nerves. It would be his first time after all. 

Patton grabbed the others hand and led the way. Still, Logan felt like he should assume the role of the top, the subtle gesture being completely lost on him. 

He took a shaky breath, trying to pull Patton's shirt over his head and overall just being very clumsy with it all. 

Patton giggled and cupped the others face, making his worried eyes look down at him. 

“Lolo... no. Calm down a little, okay? It's all gonna be okay, I promise. Would you mind letting me take the lead tonight? Just so I can show you the ropes. You could just lean back and enjoy the show.”

Truly, a mixed bag, Logan thought before nodding again, not quite trusting his vocal chords at the moment. 

He had to swallow thickly as the, otherwise so innocent boy, pushed him onto the bed, helped him out of his clothes and pulled his own off as well. 

They were only in their boxers now, nothing special. They had seen each other like that before. They had been friends for ages after all. 

What was new, was the massive bulge in Patton's boxers, making Logan stare for an embarrassingly long time. 

Patton just giggled again and eased him onto the mattress, making sure to prop enough pillows under his head. 

“Like what you see?”

It would have been sexy and sophisticated, if he hadn't added that ridiculous eyebrow wiggle. 

Logan coloured significantly and caught himself wanting to get rid of those last layers of fabric as soon as possible. 

“You're- You are- You... fuck. C-can I...?”

Not a very masterful attempt at constructing a question, but Patton still seemed to understand. 

“Yeah... do whatever you want, just... I really want to make you feel good tonight. Will you let me?” 

Logan merely nodded and stretched his hands out, tracing Patton's beautiful shape and only now fully grasping what it all meant. 

Patton was truly adorable. He had, what he himself called 'a cookie dough' body type. Curvy and a little fuller around the belly, hips and thighs. 

And Logan adored it. 

He knew for a fact, that each and every one in their little group of friends, had issues with at least one part of their body. 

But Logan felt as if he was the most boring one. He didn't have Virgil's long, thin limps and edge of his collar and hip bone being so visible against his skin, he didn't have Roman's incredible built, with shoulders like a swimmer and muscles like a warrior and he sure as hell did not have Patton's curves. 

Logan was of average height, had a plain and simple body structure and generally nothing interesting going on for him. 

Patton seemed determined to get rid of each of these negative thoughts single handedly though, seeing how lovingly he let his hands slide over the others chest and hips, how his lips traced the line of Logans collar bone and up his neck, making him shiver.

“Gosh Lolo, I wanna take you apart for hours, just to see that pretty face of yours light up again...”

Logan had to swallow hard, already feeling incredibly impatient, which was very out of character for him, but he might just spontaneously combust if the knot in his stomach got any tighter. He was just too nervous and scared, that it all would turn out to be nothing but a cruel joke. So enjoying the slow pace right now, proved difficult. He wanted to seal the deal already, so he eagerly lifted his hips as Patton hooked his finger under his boxers waistband. 

As his last shield was removed, he realised how incredibly vulnerable and open he was making himself for the world to see. Or well, just Patton in this case. But whats the difference, right? So he wasn't feeling any less scared of rejection. 

“You now, we can always take it slow, right? We don't have to go all the way tonight, I could just-”

“No!” 

Logan flinched at how his voice cracked as he raised it in protest, so he just shook his head to emphasize his point. 

“No I want- I want to go all the way. Please Pat, I can't wait any longer. I'm ready, I promise.”

Patton sighed but smiled softly in response, letting his warm hands soothe along Logan's smooth skin. 

“Okay. But you promise to tell me right away if it gets too much, okay?”

Another nod and finally, Patton's hands were on him again, but this time, less hesitant. They stroked over his chest, teasing his nipples and pushing his legs apart. Logan would have never guessed how sensitive his inner thighs could be. 

He managed to keep his mouth shut, partially to not embarrass himself and partially, because he was just so used to it. But he had a feeling, that his composure would be slowly drained from him, as his breath caught in his throat at the mere sound of a bottle cap popping open. 

He cracked his eyes open to watch Patton spread the sticky liquid on his fingers and even rub them together to warm it up slightly. 

“I know what you're about to ask and yes. Yes I'm ready, Patton.”

The other just looked at him dumbfounded for a second, before breaking out in chuckles. 

“You're so eager, Baby. Can't stand to not be in control, mh? Oh, just you wait, one of those days I'm gonna make you wait for it until this beautiful mind of yours is filled with nothing but want and need.”

Logan outright whimpered at that suggestion, having to swallow hard and close his eyes, needing a moment to calm his nerves. Still, after releasing a shaky breath, he managed to spread his legs a little more, letting skilled fingers circled his hole. 

A wince managed to get past his tightly closed lips, but it soon morphed into a moan. 

Patton's fingers managed to go so much deeper than his own ever could and they weren't all impatient and quick, they built up speed, slowly getting him ready, while pressing all the right buttons. 

In mere minutes, Logan was reduced to a moaning, writhing mess, pushing his hips down, while trying to get Patton's fingers to fuck him faster, to press against that certain spot harder, but the other wouldnt budge, covering him in kisses and compliments, while working him up to three fingers. 

Even though he insisted that he was ready after the second, Patton just shook his head and kissed his lips, knowing full well that he was a lot to take.

It drove Logan crazy. He was so close already, shivering and moaning each time  fingers just so much as brushed against his prostate, but each and every time he thought he might fall over the edge, Patton pulled away, redirecting his approach and working on just stretching the other. 

Logans whole body was tense and his legs were slowly beginning to shake with the effort, making him almost consider throwing in the towel, just so he could finally cum. But then Patton pulled back, pressing a final kiss to his forehead and beginning to rummage in his jeans pockets for the condom that was stored there. 

Logan expected his nerves to come back with a vengeance, but all there was left for him to feel was impatience. 

Seeing the full length of Patton's cock for the first time, made his mouth go dry and a curse slip from his lips. Still, his legs fell open easily, his arms reaching out to pull his lover into a deep kiss. 

Their glasses clanked together awkwardly, but they left them on, neither of them not wanting to be able to see. 

“I'm gonna go slow, okay baby? It might still hurt a bit and I really don't want to make you cry.”

Logan all but scoffed at that thought, definitely not wanting to subject himself to the horrible embarrassment but also truly about to reach his breaking point. 

“Patton, I swear to god, if you go any slower- o-oh...” 

This might be Logan's first time doing it with someone else, but he had extensive experience with his own fingers and toys, so he should have been fine, right? 

Yeah, no. 

There are worlds between that and what was happening in that moment. 

Feeling Patton's body weigh down on him slightly, having his legs stretched out and wrapped around hips, feeling every single inch of the other sliding into him, filling him up to the brim, knocking the breath out of him. 

And then there was that incredible heat, coiling in his stomach, radiating from the others body and filling his lungs. 

At one point, Logan felt like he couldn't take any more, there couldn't possibly be more to take, but alas, he was wrong. 

As Patton finally bottomed out with a soft sigh, Logan felt himself slip into a state of pure sensation, his mind shutting off for good. 

The others slow but steady rolling of his hips, turning into cautious thrusts, had him panting and clinging onto everything he could, letting out little whines of pleasure. 

“Oh Lo... Lolo ah, you feel so perfect... You're perfect, you know that? So smart and beautiful and kind and lovely and you feel so good and I've... oh I've wanted to kiss you for years now. I love you, you know that, right? We all do, Lolo and- oh no...”

And then, Logan did end up crying. His eyes were closed and he felt so full, so warm and so absolutely adored, that it became a bit too much for him. 

The symphony of sensation, the perfect mixture of being held, of having his body gently guided, of being loved and fucked at the same time. It made something break inside of him. 

That seemed to be a good thing though, because Logan found himself clenching his legs around Patton's hips and his arms clinging to the others neck, refusing to let go, not allowing his partner to pull away or end things prematurely.

“Dont. D-dont you dare stop now, Patton. Keep going, I need it, I want it, please just... just keep going?”

It wasn't supposed to sound like a question, but that's how it came out. Unsure and needy and Logan would have been horrified, if he had the capacity to feel anything other than need and love right now. 

Pattton looked momentarily alarmed, before finally being able to shake off his worry, a reassuring smile slipping onto his lips as he cupped Logans face, brushing some of his tears away with his thumb and sealing their lips back into a kiss. 

“I've got you... just hold on to me, okay? I've got you.”

Logan didn't even manage to nod as the other picked up his thrusts again, this time without hesitation. His back was arched up high, his head thrown back and fingers tangled into messy curls. 

His voice was now reaching a volume, he had never imagined possible, all control slipping from him as his moans bounced off the walls and mixed so perfectly with Patton's whispered promises. 

As a warm hand managed to slip in between their bodies and close around Logans neglected cock, it took all but two seconds for him to finally let go. The orgasm ripped out of him so suddenly and forcefully, he saw stars for a few moments. 

Staying awake after that proved to be incredibly difficult and the only thing he could really process was Patton pulling away, just to tug the blankets up around their bodies and cuddling in next to him almost immideatly. 

Despite the incredible calmness Logan was experiencing, his limbs being heavy and sleep tugging at the edges of his consciousness, something did bother him. 

“Pat... Patton you didnt...do you want me to uhm... do something?”

Patton laughed gently and shook his head, simply pulling his very sleepy partner into a hug and beginning to play with his hair. 

“Its alright, love. You did wonderfully and as long as you're okay, I don't need you to do anything right now. Maybe another time.”

Yes, Logan thought while finally succumbing to sleep. Definitely another time.

[littlespoonevan]

I feel like we always see Mickey jealous of Ian and never the other way around! Fic idea maybe? Ian finally jealous of someone hitting on Mickey lol

mickey gets a promotion in this fic bc it’s what he Deserves so he’s no longer mickey, the scary old army security guard with the tattoos, but mickey, the hot mall security guard with the tattoos lmao enjoy!!!

*

Mickey’s gotta admit, making the step up from OldArmy security guard to overall mall security guard comes with some perks. Forone thing he doesn’t have to wear that ugly ass uniform with the lilac poloshirt anymore. The pay’s better and whenever he doesn’t feel like interactingwith people he can always spend a few hours in the back office watching thesecurity cameras. Not to mention the vague sense of smug amusement he gets atthe way his new uniform almost makes him look like a cop.

There is one downside though.

He’s acquired some…fans.

He gets it, sort of. The rest of his colleagues arebalding middle-aged men with beer bellies – well, all of them except Sharonwhose tattoos are even more questionable than his and who doesn’t exactly talkto shoppers so much as barks orders at them if they’re in her way – so he getsthat he’s probably the closest thing that qualifies as eye-candy for all theteenage girls with weird security guard fetishes that hang around the mall.

Doesn’t mean they don’t get fuckin’ irritating thoughwhenever they interrupt his lunches with Ian.

Ian, the piece of shit, finds the entire thingfucking hilarious and makes sure to tell Mickey as much every time he catcheshim trying to dodge one of them while he’s trying to take his break.

Honestly, Mickey would retire to the back officeindefinitely if it weren’t for the fact that he’s the only one besides Sharonwho can outrun the little shits that try to steal stuff. So that means heusually gets stuck on patrolling duty, stalking up and down the mall untilsomeone radios him about an issue.

The mall’s been relatively quiet so far today, prettystandard for mid-morning on a weekday. Mickey’s just considering taking adetour past the pretzel cart when Johnny radios him from back office.

“Mick, can you swing by Game Zone? The cashierpressed the panic button, looks like some kids are hassling him.”

Mickey holds in a sigh and unclips his walkie-talkie.“On it,” he says, turning on his heel to go back the way he came.

He’s so not in the mood to deal with teenage assholesthat should be in school trying to disrupt his morning patrol because they feellike stealing a fucking video game. When he arrives at the store he sees threekids, all about fifteen if he had to guess, cornering the cashier while afourth is shoving games into his backpack.

Rolling his eyes, Mickey squares his shoulders andcalls out a sharp, “Hey!”

The three over by the counter all snap their heads inhis direction and the one with the games freezes mid-thievery. Mickey marchesover to him first, grabbing him by the scruff of his t-shirt and snatching thebackpack from him. “I’ll take that,” he sneers, sounding menacing enough thatthe kid relinquishes the bag without a word. Mickey gives him a warning lookbefore glaring at his friends. “I’m gonna give you little shits five seconds toget lost before I’m bringing out the taser. Your choice.”

They don’t need to be told twice, hightailing it thefuck out there. Mickey pulls the kid he’s still got a hold of close and pitcheshis voice low. “I ever find out you or your friends step foot back in thismall, it’ll be the last thing you do. Hear me?”

The kid’s eyes widen in fear and he nods frantically,stumbling a step when Mickey releases him before running for his life.

Mickey watches him go with a faint smirk beforeturning back to the cashier. “You okay, man?”

The cashier stares at him, dumbfounded, before heseems to find his words. “Y-yeah! Yeah, I’m good, thanks! They just caught meoff guard.”

Mickey nods, suppressing a snort. The guy’s skinny asa beanpole, Mickey’s not sure how much good he’d be if he was on guard or not.He makes his way over to the counter then, upending the backpack full of games.“Have fun restocking the shelves, I guess.”

“Thank again, um…Mickey?” the cashier says, squintingat his nametag and holding out a hand. “I’m Robbie.”

Mickey nods and gives the guy a once over. He can’tbe older than twenty-one, probably some college kid just trying to make a fewbucks so he can get wasted at the weekend. Taking pity on him, Mickey shakeshis hand. “Those kids shouldn’t be coming back to bother you.”

“Thanks,” Robbie breathes, opening his mouth like hewants to say more but Mickey’s radio starts going off again.

“I gotta deal with this,” Mickey says, silentlygrateful he doesn’t have to stick around and socialise. “See you around.”

*

Mickey doesn’t think much of it when he starts seeingRobbie around the place after that. He just figures it’s one of thosesituations where now that he knows who the guy is he’s able to distinguish himfrom the faceless shoppers Mickey encounters every day.

And Robbie’s an okay guy. Mickey doesn’t mindengaging in a couple of minutes of small talk with him when he passes thestore. He gets that Robbie probably gets bored during his weekday shifts – old peopleand soccer moms aren’t exactly the target demographic for a video game store.

Honestly, he doesn’t think anything of it at all untilIan does.

Mickey is on his way to the food court to meet Ianfor lunch when he hears someone calling his name. He turns around to findRobbie jogging towards him.

“Hey,” he says with a slight frown. “Everything okayat the store?” He was just about to take his fucking break; he doesn’t needthis right now. Ian’s only got half an hour before he needs to get back to theambulance.

“Yeah,” Robbie assures him with a wave of a hand oncehe reaches him. “I just thought you might be on your way to the food court? Younormally take a break around now, right?”

Mickey raises his eyebrows. He hadn’t realised theywere at the point of learning each other’s schedules. “Uh yeah?”

“Cool,” Robbie says, falling into step beside him.“I’m on break now too.”

Mickey doesn’t recall ever seeing Robbie in the foodcourt at this time but then again, Mickey doesn’t tend to pay much attention toanything besides his lunch and Ian when he’s on his break. The walk is short andslightly awkward and Mickey breathes a sigh of relief when he spots Ian waitingfor him at their usual table, both their trays of food already laid out infront of him.

“I’ll catch you later, man,” he says, absently givingRobbie a wave before making a beeline for Ian and dropping into his seat.“Hey,” he greets, bumping his foot against Ian’s under the table. “Thanks forgetting the food.”

“Who was that?” Ian asks, an odd pitch to his voice.

Mickey looks up from his food with a frown. “Who waswho?”

“The guy you came in with,” Ian says, looking weirdlyintense at some spot over Mickey’s shoulder.

“Who? Robbie?” Mickey answers around a mouthful offood. “College kid who works at the video game store downstairs.”

Ian nods, mouth a tight line. “He seems…friendly,” hesays, voice all clipped and seriously, what the fuck is wrong with him?

“I guess?” Mickey shrugs, can’t say he’s ever thoughttoo much about Robbie’s personality before.

Ian nods again and Mickey fixes him with ascrutinising look. It takes him a second but he manages to place the pinched upexpression on Ian’s face. The last time he saw that was around Byron and…

“Holy shit, are you jealous?”

“Wh- no!” Ian sputters, face twisting into a scowlwhen Mickey laughs. “I’m not fucking jealous,” he insists, slumping back in hisseat and crossing his arms. “I just don’t like how he was lookin’ at you.”

“Uh huh,” Mickey says amusedly.

“Shut the fuck up,” Ian grouses, avoiding Mickey’seyes and suddenly appearing very preoccupied with his lunch.

“You realise we’re literally married, right?” Mickeypoints out, trying and failing to keep the amusement out of his voice. “Sometwenty-year-old hipster that can’t even defend himself against a couple ofteenagers isn’t gonna steal me away.”

“I know,”Ian huffs, rolling his eyes before meeting Mickey’s gaze with a pleading look.“Forget it, I was being an idiot.”

“Yeah, you were,” Mickey agrees, reaching across thetable to take Ian’s hand. “In case you missed the memo, I’m in love with you,dumbass.”

And finally, a reluctant smile spreads across Ian’sface as he squeezes Mickey’s hand. “I love you too,” he says and Mickey willnever get tired of hearing that. “Can we enjoy our lunch now?”

Mickey nods and releases Ian’s hand to pick up hisfork. By the time he has to get back to work, he’s all but forgotten the Robbieconversation.

*

A couple of days later Mickey’s shift is just aboutto end when he gets waylaid by Robbie.

“Hey Mickey,” he says, managing to corner Mickey justbefore he can get to the back offices to grab his shit. “You finishing up forthe day?”

“Yep,” Mickey says, impatient enough that he hopesRobbie will get the memo that he’s in a rush. Ian actually has the day offtoday and Mickey’s 90% sure they have the whole house to themselves and dammit,he wants a few hours alone with his husband.

“You got any plans?” Robbie asks hopefully,barrelling on before Mickey can answer him. “Because, you know, I still haven’tthanked you for helping me out that one time and I was thinking we could maybegrab a beer or-“

Robbie abruptly cuts off at the exact same momentMickey feels an arm settle around his shoulders.

“Hey, Mick,” Ian greets far too enthusiastically. (Mickeyisn’t gonna complain about the cheek kiss though.)

“Hey,” Mickey says, giving Ian an I-know-what-you’re-doinglook. “Get tired of waiting for me?”

“You realise how rare a free house is, right?” Ianasks, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. “We need to take advantage of everysecond we can.”

Mickey lets a slow smirk spread across his face andis just about to let Ian lean in for the kiss when he hears a noise that soundsvaguely like a squeak and remembers Robbie is still standing there.

He looks away from Ian and finds Robbie staringbetween them with wide, bewildered eyes. He’d almost feel bad for the guy ifseeing Ian get needlessly jealous wasn’t so funny.

“Oh I’m so sorry,” Ian announces, all faux-politenessas he turns to Robbie. “I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m Ian,” he says,sticking out his hand. “Mickey’s husband.”

“Husband!” Robbie sputters, voice high-pitched andcracking, and Mickey makes a valiant effort to keep a straight face.

“Yeah, how lucky am I, right?” Ian grins, squeezingMickey’s shoulder where he’s still got his arm around him. And Mickey knowsIan’s only saying this shit for Robbie’s benefit but it still makes him preen alittle.

Robbie seems at a loss for words and Mickey finallytakes a pity on him, deciding to end the one-sided pissing contest.

“We better get going,” he says to Ian, touching hishand to the small of Ian’s back. He has to bite the inside of his cheek when hemeets Ian’s gaze so he doesn’t start laughing. “See you later, Robbie!” hecalls, hearing Robbie’s faint, “See you,” as Ian starts steering them away.

“You enjoyed that way too much,” he mutters to Ian assoon as they’re out of earshot and Ian scoffs.

“Says the guy who used to stand over me like a guarddog when I worked at the club.”

“Those guys were literally trying to shove theirhands down your pants!” Mickey argues, elbowing Ian in the side before lettinghis arm wind round his back again.

“Fine, so we’ve established neither of us likes toshare.”

“No shit,” Mickey snorts.

Ian hums, pulling him to a stop just before theyreach the door to the back offices. “I meant it though,” he murmurs, drawingMickey in close until there’s only a few inches of space between them. “I amlucky.”

Mickey watches him for a minute, feeling his cheeksheat up and attempting to cover it up with a casual. “Fuck yeah, you are.”

Ian only smiles, looking too fond and tooaffectionate and Mickey so isn’t prepared for those eyes right now.

Patting Ian’s arms, he looks up at him with asuggestive raise of his eyebrows. “Now how about you let me get my jacket so wecan go home and I can show you how lucky you are?”  

Ian’s smile transforms into something more and hesqueezes Mickey’s hips before releasing him.

Mickey hardly gets two steps away, however, beforeIan’s dragging him back into a kiss. He figures he’s pretty damn lucky too.

*

[ververa]

“Asylum” (1/?)

A different perspective of “You are enough”

It’s not exactly what I’ve planned and probably not what you’ve expected (I got carried away a little bit - I guess  🙈  Sorry, not sorry😜) but this is it 

Dr Ellie Staple x patient (aka Ronnie)

@crazycatladycaceta​ thank you for request 💚 I must admit it’s quite a challenge, but I do like challenges  🙆🏼‍♀ I hope you will like it. Sorry, if I fucked up  🙏🏼

Warning: mention of eating disorders & suicide attempt. Also other mental illnesses, force-feeding, abuse, and in general asylum’s things.  

Sometimes in our lives occurs such situations, obstacles that nothing and nobody could have prepared us for. No school, no books, no teachers, no parents. And when it happens everything changes. Cause nothing could ever fit you for feeling such a terrible emptiness. When at some point you were thinking that you’re already dead. There’s no happiness, sadness or anger. There’s nothing. And it feels as if there were a black hole inside of you, which absorbs every possible kind of emotions. It makes you fade more and more with each day, until you’re left there as an unstable construction – which may collapse like a sandcastle at any time.

But even then. When you feel like a shit – a suicide is not a solution. What a shame I’ve not thought about it then. Cause if I would have I wouldn’t end up in a nuthouse.

It wasn’t designed to be an asylum. At first they wanted it to be a nursing house, though after some talks and problems with finding investors they turned it in a psychiatric clinic – aimed at treating various cases. There were 4 main ward: the wing A and B were for people with mood disorders while C and D, which were almost completely isolated, implied bipolar disorder and a ward for homicidal people – some of whom were a prisoners.

The clinic was still fresh from a renovation. The building needed some certain changes to comply with requirements. They changed almost everything. Reorganized the whole structure and changed the design inside.

With it’s creamy and pink walls or armour glass instead of grilles in windows – the hospital didn’t resemble asylums from horrors at all. Actually, it was hard to tell it was a psychiatric hospital, until you got inside to the right ward. Cause when you did, you realized it was still a hospital full of sick and mostly insane people.

Even though, the age of using electroshock therapy as a treatment was long gone, it didn’t prevent you from feeling insecure and scared each time you’re led from one place to another by medical staff. You still shivered when those white lights, at the corridors, began to wink, due to some short circuits. Or when you heard noises from the isolated part – they were screaming, cursing the doctors or simply crying. At that times you were wondering if it wasn’t a horror.

But even in such places there must be a positive aspect. One thing keeping you from thinking that the world’s ending. And it was that gorgeous woman. In comparison to the rest of the staff she was like an angel.

I’ve known her before I ended up in a hospital. But it was different then. That were different circumstances. Different place and people. And most importantly I – I was a completely different person.

Getting into such places like an asylum you never know what to expect. You enter and see all those people – smiling friendly at you. They most definitely pity you, but well you don’t pay attention.

You don’t really know what’s going on around you, as you got some tranquilliser at the hospital.

Even the guards at the door don’t bother you much. You feel weak and tired, but it stops as she comes into view. You smile at her angelic face, though you grin disappears as soon as you can see a man dressed in a red overall. He’s really muscular. Your first thought’s that he looks almost like a wrestler who went too far with steroids. He was in charge of safety, but well, if you were asked to get to the elevator only with him you would most likely get a heart attack. Luckily, you didn’t have to. Dr Staple was right there too. She had something in herself that, somehow, just calm you down and even in that damn elevator you weren’t that scared any more, simply because she was right next to you.

Another thing that was creepy, as fuck, waited for you behind the elevator’s door. You waited a while before it open, but when it did you weren’t able to move. A grille it was. A fucking bars just like in prison. It was a completely different world. It wasn’t like what you had seen downstairs. There were no nice looking people. It was a total mess.

You needed a few seconds to process what you had just seen. You stood dumbfounded, as other patients were looking at you. Seeing them behind those bars felt as if you were in some kind of zoo and the only thing that was in your head were lyrics of the song “Welcome to the jungle”. However, it was you, actually, who remain the major attraction for them. You were those atypical case. A weird compilation of what was unknown for them, cause honestly, it wasn’t daily to see a would-be suicide. They’re staring as if I were an alien. At some point it became really disturbing and uncomfortable.

Since leaving the hospital it felt as if every-fucking-one were looking at my bandaged hands. And let me tell you, it wasn’t nice. Something like that made you feel vulnerable, weak and the worst part is the question “what they think of you?” that clouds in your mind all the time.

I was brought back to reality by Dr Staple’s gentle touch.

“Shall we?” she motioned her head for me to move

I only nodded and hesitantly got out of the elevator. Ellie didn’t leave my side even for a while, but so didn’t the overdeveloped minder of hers. I really don’t know how could she do that, but she knew every time you feel bad.

“It’s okay Kevin. We’re good. You can take a break or something”

He only nodded and disappeared before I knew. Actually, it was kind of ridiculous that such a big man was taking orders from an inconspicuous woman like her. Well, apparently, she surpassed him with her mind.

“Here is the nurses’ station” she explained as we were wandering further and further “At the end of the hall is a doctor’s office. And here is an emergency room. Now, I need you to stay here and let them examine you”

I nodded absentmidedly entering the room.

“Good morning” Ellie addressed the nurses

“Good morning” they answered

There were two people – a man and a woman. None of them seemed to be friendly, but did I have any choice? The psychiatrist smiled at me reassuringly and left after handing the nurse some documents.

I stood there in an uncomfortable silence, kicking my heels. They whispered between each other and after some time the woman left. Leaving me with that unappealing nurse man.

“Undress to your underwear. I need to examine you” he said and I froze

Stripping down with my wounded hands was quite a challenge. Also in front of him? Getting undress in front of any men was a huge no. It didn’t matter whether he was a doctor or a nurse. No force could make me do that.

I could feel his eyes on me – or rather on my cut hands.

“Let me help you” he moved towards me and I took a huge step back automatically

“Don’t touch me” I said not looking at him

“Miss, I need to examine you”

“I don’t care. I won’t undress in front of you”

“It’s my job. Please, don’t impede it. The sooner we start the quicker it’s over” he tried once again to reach for me

“I don’t give a damn! Do not touch me!” I said it louder than necessary

“Don’t make me force you. I really don’t want to have to drug you”

I shook my head stepping back even more. The man sighed and moved to a china cabinet.

“You won’t dare” I gulped as he turned back to be with a syringe in his hand

“Miss, you give me no choice” he shook his head approaching me

Before I knew I was curled up in the corner of the room – my eyes closed and tears streaming down my cheeks. It was just too much. The painful memories came back and I wasn’t able to control myself

“Don’t touch me! Don’t touch! Don’t touch me!!!” it was a weird combination of screaming and crying

“What’s happening here?!” the familiar female voice was like a delivering

“She doesn’t want to cooperate. I’m forced to use the injection with...”

“No need to use needles. Where’s Kristin? I thought I made myself clear. No male stuff around the patient” she said irritated “Leave” she asked calmly, but sternly

The man stood there dumbfounded

“Leave!” she repeated

He nodded obediently before rushing out of the room.

“It’s alright” her voice was gentle “It’s just me” she carefully placed her hand on my shoulder

“I-I am sorry” I sobbed “But he… I couldn’t...” I cried

“Shhh. It’s okay. No more men. I promise. But I need to examine you. Come on”

I stood up slowly and let her help me to undress. As I was there only in my underwear the doctor instructed me to stand on the scales. She weighed me and got down the number that device showed.

She said nothing. She didn’t have to – we both knew that the weight wasn’t appropriate to my height and I was malnourished. When I got off the scales she wanted me to turn around. I did so and she examined my body carefully. It felt as if she tried to remember every single thing about it. She stopped for a while and looked on a pretty huge tattoo of a moth between my ribs. She looked up and our eyes met, but she said nothing. Dr Staple stepped closer to see my back. I couldn’t look at her face any more, though after a while I felt her hand moving down my spine. Her hand was rather cold, but still soft. Her fingertips were barely touching me, but it made a goosebumps form on my skin.

“O-okay. You can dress” she said avoiding my eyes

“Dr Staple?” the very same female nurse from before came into

“We’re done already” Ellie affirmed dryly “I hope it won’t be a problem to show our patient to her room” she looked at me

“Of course not” the nurse said looking down

Ellie moved towards the door, but stopped before opening them

“One more thing”

“Yes?” the nurse asked

“Henceforth, when I give you any instructions I expect you to follow. Did I make myself clear?” she continued without turning back

“Yes, doctor”

“Good” the psychiatrist looked at me one more time and winked before leaving

The nurse took me to my room. The ward itself wasn't that bad. At least, I thought so at first. Since I left the emergency room I met no patients. It was a bit disturbing, but the nurse was quick to explain it – saying that they're having therapy sessions. As she led me to the main corridor an elder, bitchily looking woman was already waiting there.

You could say she was in charge there just by the way she looked at you. Sister Janet. She was not only a boss, but a pure evil. She was the one who could turn your life in hell.

"The clinic is not a leisure complex. It's a hospital. And you should not confuse those two institutions"

She was that kind of women who didn't have much control in her own life. So when she could have control over you she wasn't going to miss that opportunity. You never got to talk to much around her. It was always her who was speaking – ordering, demanding, upbraiding and complaining. The principle was simple – you disobey you get punished. But it wasn't the only thing you needed to keep in your mind.

"There are some certain rules, that you're obliged to follow" she was explaining "No knives, forks and other sharp objects" the rule number one "No mobile phones and other devices. Also no calls and messages" she continued "No phone chargers with long wire. You're not allowed to leave your room after 10pm.. There's only one bathroom with discharged cabins and the shower time is at 8pm." You could only nod at each thing. And you better had a good memory, cause there're quite a lot of things to remember.

"When I say something there's no place for objection. You'd better follow my rules if you want to have a peaceful time here"

Actually, you need a good week to remember every rule that hag made up. But it's not possible to learn them all, cause she has a habit of creating new ones all the time.

The eating disorders' ward is one of those peaceful. However, you can't say it about so called recreational area. It's designed for patients from two different wards. In short people from blocks A and B are allowed to spend there their free time, of course, as long as they follow the rules.

At times it's like a real jungle – where you need to fight for survival. And if you're not the one to fight, you have to learn to defend.

Though, nothing can be as stressful as spending time in the recreational area or common therapy sessions. Luckily, they took place only once a week. It's probably for fear of psychiatrists mental health, cause who could stand it for too long? It was hard to catch up with all of them sometimes. And the first interaction's the worst. You don't really know how to act around them. What to say when some strange woman sits next to you and trots out one thing: "I'm laughing. I'm crying. It feels like I'm dying"

It scares the shit out of you and the fact that she looks like a bloody Mary does not help.

It's not better, when a man dressed in some pink clothes approaches you. He seems friendly, no lie, but then he speaks up. He introduces himself as Mary Poppins and every night when he cannot sleep you hear him singing iconic song "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious".

They’re not really dangerous. After some time you can kind of get used to them acting like that. And when you learn more about them you can see motives behind them being like that. It turns out that “Bloody Marry” was abused by her husband and lost her baby. And Mary Poppins is actually a man called Martin, who suffers from multiple personality disorder – after being a witness of his younger sister’s death. You may wonder why did he became Mary Poppins – well she used to be his sister favourite character and he featured as her to amuse the girl.

When you know all of this, you come to the conclusion that nothing happens without a reason. And it is so true that it hurts your internally. There is no way for you to fight with what’s happening around you. The only choice you can make is – to do everything to come back to the normal world. Although, at times you’re not sure what the word – normal – means.

The only moments of solace were those that you could spend in your psychiatrist’s office. The insight-oriented psychotherapy – it was called. It was consisting in conversations between the therapist and the patient, that is me. Thank heavens, my therapist was none other than Doctor Staple. I probably wouldn’t survive if that would be doctor Schulz. With his specific features of looking like a live corpse and acting as an arsehole that he was – he passed for one the most creepy person in the clinic. He was the oldest from the stuff and used to be the head of the psychiatric ward in an “old” asylum. He was accustomed to all the old-fashioned methods they were using there and he didn’t seem to be likely to change anything in the way of him treating his patients. At a few occasions I was un-pleased to participate in his sessions during the group therapy.

Tactfulness was a term completely unknown to him. He was those man, who treated all patients as if they were deprived of human instincts. Actually, he was the one without any sort of emotions – showing us extracts from movies about force-feeding. Where the pictures were too drastic even for the guards or medical stuff, excluding doctor Schulz, to watch. I couldn’t compare it to anything that I had experienced in my whole life. It had to do with everything, but therapeutic regimen. Seeing how those so called doctors forced a long cannulas into the poor woman’s nose could make you even more sick than you actually were.

After sessions with doctor Schulz none of us was able to come to ourselves for a long time. The nightmares haunting you at night weren’t something new. We – who were there, in that damned pink painted room – knew how that felt, but nobody else could understand. It was hard to believe, but just then, Martin’s singing turned out to be the most soothing thing for us. It seemed as if he wanted to somehow take care of us – his dear children – just the way Mary Poppins did in the movie. But it couldn’t help everyone.

One of the girls from my ward almost killed herself because of that inconsiderate jerk. I, myself broke down – when during one of those sessions he asked me if I would like to try such a way of therapy. I was more than scared when he came to me and grabbed my chin. He began to explain how such a force-feeding works, but not without demonstrating with his hands the way, which the cannula has to pass before it makes it through to the stomach. It was a joke for him, but my whole body was paralysed with fear. He found my reaction ridiculous. Cause why would I cry? Why would I get a panic attack, that got to the point when nobody could calm me down and the only option was drugging me. Two men in that red overalls needed to hold me, as sister Janet gave to me such a dose of sedative that I was unconscious for over 40 hours and my vital functions were barely palpable.

Ellie, just like the rest of the doctors weren’t mean to know about it, but eventually they did find out. They knew about the movies, but not what happened to me. It was rather obvious that it had never been about me – more likely about my therapist, who not only was young in comparison to that monster, who called himself a doctor, but also she was a woman. The woman who was smarter and had a brainpower that none of them could even dream about. Moreover, she was there for the patients. She wanted to cure them; was treating them equally and most importantly had never abused any of them.

It was rather disturbing, when suddenly one of the most promising patients, who was progressing quicker than the rest, suddenly blocked. The only justification could be that her therapy was ineffective.

And in such moment she stops smiling around you. You cannot really figure out whether she’s worried or angry with you. She tries to talk, of course, but you don’t want to. You ask yourself whether she would understand, but then you come to the conclusion that she would never know how you feel – till it happens to her.

It took a few sessions and a lot of her talking to finally got to me. She managed to fix it all – without knowing what exactly had happened – but that’s how she worked. She was just a master in her profession and could do wonders, as if she were some kind of medium or a mind reader. It didn’t matter to me whether she had any superpowers or if it was only her brain and knowledge. What did matter was the fact that she made me feel alive again – just as she always did.

When I came into Ellie’s office I could smell it at once. The scent of coffee, that was filling the whole room. After such a long time without my favourite beverage even the smell itself was so incredibly pleasant, that it’s hard to focus on the psychiatrist's words. She was sitting in her armchair comfortable with her notebook on her knees. As usually we were talking about my insecurities, confidence and other shit like that, but I didn’t pay attention. The only thing I could focus on was a white, porcelain cup with a warm beverage. Observing Ellie as she was bringing it up to her lips carefully was far more better than talking about mother or my fucked up childhood. I must have been staring too hard, as she paused. I could feel her examining my features. Our eyes met and before I could stop myself I asked that very simple question:

“Is that a coffee?”

It was impossible to miss the smile that formed on her face.

“Indeed. It is” she said softly

I nodded cursing myself for coming up with it. The enquiry was so stupid and unnecessary, that it was truly hard not to laugh at it. However, it wasn’t a kind of derisive grin. It was that subtle smile full of fondness, which she almost always have on her face around me – and only me.

“Would you like some?” Ellie asked with a sly smile

My mind needed a few seconds to process her words. Did she really asked that or was it only my brain eager for the beverage? It was only a coffee, of course, but none of us were allowed to drink it. No coffee and tea – that was the rule at the ward. And sister Janet made sure to see to us following the precept. So, the offer – not only connected with what was forbidden, but also asked by the person who was well aware of it – left me a bit puzzled.

“Can I?” I asked hesitantly, but still enthusiastically

“Actually, you can’t, but till sister Janet doesn’t know, you’re allowed to have this one cup” she placed the porcelain vessel in front of me

I wasn’t sure if I should take it – even though a cup of coffee was something that I had desired for so long. I was already so cowed by the devilish sister, that I was afraid of braking the rules even if she wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

“It’s alright. Go ahead” Ellie encouraged

“I-I cannot…”

“Why?”

“Because that’s the rule. And if you do not follow rules you are punished” I reeled the percept off

The psychiatrist looked at me – an ugly frown appeared on her peaceful face. She stood up shaking her head and moved to sit next to me on the sofa.

“We need to get you out of here” she put her hand on mine “But don’t worry, I’ll take care of it” she added squeezing it lightly “For now drink up” she took a cup and handed it to me

“But-” I wanted to object

“Don’t worry about sister Janet” she interrupted and almost forced me to bring the cup to my mouth

I took a sip and… oh God! It seemed that Ellie drink the same kind of coffee that I used to – without sugar and milk, just a simple black coffee. It tasted heavenly, but after such a long time, probably everything different than hospital food would taste amazing.

I was sitting there – ravishing over the coffee – with the cup in both of my hands and a stupid smile on my face. It must have looked pathetic or childish at least. But Ellie wasn’t looking at me with any less respect that she used to before the clinic. I turned back only to saw that she was smiling too. She was looking at me with that weird thing in her eyes. I couldn’t say what it was, but it felt good. I felt safe and calm. We were sitting opposite each other in a complete silence – but it wasn’t awkward. It felt as if we could communicate nonverbally.

Ellie was the first one to move. She gently stroked my cheek and spoke up.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. I’ll protect you” she smiled “No matter what” she added and leaned in to kiss my forehead

Just then, did I realize that she – the greatest psychiatrist, my therapist, friend or maybe already someone more than just a friend – was the best thing that ever happened to me.

                  _____________________________________

Ellie needed a break. What she read definitely wasn’t what she had expected. Actually, she didn’t mean to read Ronnie’s diary. She didn’t even realize the girl had something like that – but apparently she did. And the psychiatrist had happened to come across the notebook while looking for one of her comic books. She had known that she should have put it back, but she didn’t. And there she was – sitting in her office unable to focus on anything but what she had just read.

Ellie knew how hard it was for the girl to get through the clinic and the whole process of treatment. But after reading she found out the things about which she had no idea.

The psychiatrist wasn’t sure if she was more angry with herself, for not knowing it all earlier, or if she wanted to come back to the clinic and simply raze it to the ground. What she did know was that she love Ronnie even more and that there’s probably nobody who could handle so much and still remain sane.

Staple took a deep breath looking at the part of diary that she hadn’t read yet. She was hesitant. Maybe she ought to leave it?

[jonghotual-blog]

IDIOT / choi jongho

PAIRING / choi jongho & (gender neutral) reader

GENRE / high school au, delinquent (reader) au, fluff

WORD COUNT / 0.8k

DEDICATED TO / @ebonyfont ☆ thank you for requesting, i’m so sorry it took so long!! i hope you like it!!

SYNOPSIS / you don't know why he doesn't avoid you like everyone else does, but you had to say: you admired his determination.

Another day wasted at school, you thought to yourself, a sour look on your face. You never did understand the point of it; they give you homework that’ll just stress you out, and more commonly than not, doesn’t even help in the long run. The teachers are rude, your classmates are stupid (okay, not really in most cases, but enough of them act in ways that are stupid), and most of the things they teach you are wrong.

On top of all of that? The school's dress code is bothersome — why won't they let you have dyed hair and piercings? You, of course, pay no mind to the dress code. The worst they can do is tell your parents, who in turn would just tell the school that you're expressing yourself, something they valued greatly. Besides, it's not like your brightly colored hair or lip piercing was hurting anyone.

Most of the time, you just ditch and go off school grounds to do something else. Other times, you hide out behind the bleachers, doing who-knows-what. The teachers have long since given up trying to make you cooperate, and you at least show up on the days that there's tests (and you get good scores), so they let you do what you wish.

There's not many people in school who dare to associate with you, as you'd been known to get in fights and were just an unsavory person overall, but you'd managed to catch the eye of one of the most popular boys in school: Choi Jongho. You have no clue why, but every lunch when he knows you're still on school grounds, he sits with you and even offers some of his food. He doesn't try to make conversation, as he'd learned quickly that you weren't one to talk, but you found yourself enjoying his presence. The fact that he didn't avoid you like everyone else did made you happy — not that you'd ever admit that to him.

You let out an annoyed sigh, crossing your arms as you walked home. Why didn't you bring a jacket today? You generally wore one every other day, why was the one day you decided not to the day that happened to be a cold Spring day? Footsteps behind you pulled you from your thoughts, your pout turned into a frown due to you wanting to keep your image and not have anyone seeing you doing something considered 'cute'.

"(Y/N)," a familiar voice said from behind you, making you sigh once more before stopping and turning around to look at him.

"Jongho."

He smiled at the fact that you responded to him this time, even if you did sound annoyed. "I was wondering if you'd like company? I'm going this way too."

You shrugged, not bothering to reply since you knew he'd just trail after you like a lost puppy if you said no. Without a word, the two of you continued your trek, the boy seeming nervous compared to the times where he sat with you during lunch. Some part of you wanted to speak up, ask him if something was on his mind; the other part of you scolded yourself, asking why you even cared. You didn't — at least, you didn't think you did.

Feelings are weird.

"So, how was your day?" He questioned, breaking the somewhat awkward silence. You stared at him dumbfounded for a second. Was he trying to small talk you? Really?

"It was okay, I guess," you replied with a shrug, looking away from him, "Same as every other day."

He hummed, letting the conversation come to a halt. At least he knew you didn't care for small talk.

Suddenly, he stopped walking and grabbed your arm, keeping you from walking off without him. Looking between his hand and his face, you raised your eyebrows as if to say 'what?'

"Look, I've been wanting to get this off my mind for ages, and I wouldn't be surprised if you already knew," he said, unable to look you in the eyes, "I really like you. I think there's more to you than just some... delinquent... that everyone else doesn't like, and I'd really like to get to know you better."

Whatever you'd been expecting, it wasn't that. It took you a moment to process that he just confessed his feelings for you, and as the silence went on, he let his hand fall from your arm and a quiet "I'm an idiot," left his lips, most likely to himself. "I'll just go now, I guess. Sorry."

Your hand shot out to grab his wrist to keep him from leaving, your cheeks heating up at your own actions but you didn't let go. "No it's... I guess we can hang out sometime outside of school. Just a warning, though, I'm not the most interesting person."

His eyes lit up, a hopeful look on his face. "So... You'll go on a date with me?"

"I... Yeah, sure. A date it is. When do you want to go?"

[shawnskeds]

All The Things I Love About You {S.M}

non-requested// imagine where you feel as if you aren’t good enough for someone as great as shawn and he tells you everything he loves about you

author’s note// did you guys know LITERALLY all i fucking care about is taylor swift she is the ONLY woman i will ever love go buy look what you made me do on itunes RIGHT FUCKIN NOW

masterlist 

Shawn was perfect. It didn’t take a genius to understand that Shawn was overall the perfect man. He was the best boyfriend any girl could ever dream for, and he was fucking famous for crying out loud. He had countless fanfiction shit and stuff on the internet, and it was all so accurate. All of those dumb ridiculously gross relationship goal stuff all of the twelve year old girls wanted, was exactly what he did. He posted pictures online with you, much to his publicists dismay as she said it may cause a slight uproar in his fanbase if he were to announce he was in a relationship. He didn’t care at all, he posted photos with you, of you, posted mushy captions, all of the stuff teenage girls make edits of and post on tumblr. He took you on dates, but weirdly personal dates. Like he would take you on a picnic to a little hill by your house or that italian restaurant that was tucked away in the western corner of your town that you just loved. He took you on tour, when you could of course, and he always made sure he made time for you whenever he possibly could. 

But it was all just… way too good to be true. 

You considered yourself to be incredibly average. You didn’t have an extraordinary job, you were an architect. You had a pretty great job at a firm, which was amazing for your age and the fact you were a female but it was nothing compared to your chart topping pop star boyfriend. He was absolutely stunning, one of the most beautiful man you had ever seen in your whole life. His body was perfect, there was seemingly no flaws. Even the scar on his cheek he had gotten using his dad’s razor when he was younger that bothered him so much was the cutest thing ever. He was hot as all hell, girls wrote friggin sex fantasies about him online. You thought it was super weird, yeah sure, but still they existed. He was genuinely perfect in every single way and you were mediocre at best. 

You didn’t consider yourself super hot, and you weren’t super tiny, which is apparently what everyone thought Shawn needed. Someone considerably shorter than him, and tiny overall. You weren’t that. You were shorter than him, sure but it was due to the fact that he was more of a tower than a man, but you weren’t super tiny. You didn’t look amazing in a bikini, you don’t wear a size extra small, and overall, you just didn’t think you were what Shawn deserved. He deserved the perfect girl, and you didn’t deserve him. 

But, that was just what you thought, not what Shawn thought. When you met Shawn at gross little coffee shop in Texas, he thought you were absolutely radiating. He thought you were the prettiest thing he had ever seen, with your glowing caramel skin, and long deep ebony hair. He was dumbfounded by your beauty, how your body wasn’t one of a super model but you made it look absolutely lovely. What he loved most was that you had no idea how absolutely gorgeous you were. He hated seeing all of these admittedly stunning women at events and parties, who just know they are one of the most gorgeous human beings in the world. You were even more stunning than all of those girls he had ever seen combined, and you weren’t even aware. 

He tells you ever since then he has been absolutely smitten. So in love with you, maybe even disgustingly in love with you. You just didn’t find it realistic. You didn’t find it realistic that this perfect human being saw you as an equally perfect human. You didn’t vocalize it too much, but he knew. He knew you felt insecure. Sure, he wasn’t sure of the extent of the fact, but he knew. 

“C’mon honey, please? You haven’t sat in on Q&A in forever.” Shawn whined, trying to pull you off of the couch that you were firmly planted on in Shawn’s dressing room for the venue that night. 

“I don’t like them, I feel uncomfortable. I’m not even semi ready. I’m wearing one of your sweatshirts and shorts. I can’t go, and I don’t want to.” You told him for what felt like the eightieth time in the past five minutes.Yet, he continued to try and pull you up. “Shawn, seriously I don’t want to.” You stated as monotone as you could physically could manage. You couldn’t show any weakness in a situation like this, he was the type to call of his Q&A to talk to you and make you feel better. You hated when he did that, you hated when he would put you before that kind of stuff, it made you feel like a controlling bitch, even though every single time he told you that it was his decision, not yours, and he is more than willing to tell anyone who asks that very thing. 

“Honey, come on. They love you they always do.” Shawn knew he was lying right through his teeth. They never loved her. At best, they completely ignored her, which is what Shawn considered ‘love’ even though it was just not being a complete asshole. 

“They literally never love me, Shawn. Last time a girl told me to hang myself with one of your broken guitar strings.” It was actually incredibly sad that you weren’t exaggerating, she had actually said that. She had used her question to ask if you could do that, which was the fucking saddest thing you’d ever heard. 

“It won’t happen this time, I promise.” He let go of your hands, knowing for a fact that you wouldn’t be going with him. He looked at you with sad eyes, pulling his blue button up sleeves up to his elbows, his muscular forearms tensed up a bit and you felt a knot in your stomach. 

“Shawn, they’re right.” You groaned, pulling yourself up and somehow dodging him, which was impressive since he was such a tall muscular guy. He scoffed a little, folding his arms as you started to pace around his dressing room, your socks picking up some static electricity as you dragged your feet across the carpet. 

“If you’re saying you should hang yourself…” He chuckled, and you quickly whipped your body to face him, a glare on your face. 

“No, Shawn. They are all right.” You started, pulling the ends of your hair that was up in a ponytail to your fingers, fiddling around with the ends of it. His arms dropped to his side and his head tilted to the side a little bit, a few of his curls falling into his eyes. He started to look sad, and he knew what you were about to say was going to break his heart. “I’m not good enough for you.” You whispered, looking down at your feet. 

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Shawn hissed, taking small careful steps towards you until he was only inches away from you. 

“Shawn, I’m just not good enough for you. You’re fucking perfect, you’re the perfect man and I’m just…” You tried to think of the correct word to use but it just wasn’t coming to your brain. “me.” You sighed, looking up at him. You could feel his breath on your forehead, he was that close to you, yet you weren’t touching. His arms were shaking just a bit, so you could tell he wanted to pull you close and hold you badly but he was scared. You were glad he didn’t though, you may have started crying. 

“Do I need to list every single thing that I love about you?” He simply stated, looking you straight in your eyes. You shook your head quickly, not wanting him to waste anymore time on your insecurity than he already has. 

“No Shawn, it’s fine, i’ll get over myself, it’s ju-” He cut you off as he grabbed both of your hands. 

“The way you smile, the way you laugh when I say something that isn’t even remotely funny, the way you get so passionate about those fucking blueprints for some class that I can’t even begin to understand, how you get so emotionally invested in those Grey’s Anatomy characters to the point of tears over the fact that Christina and Owen broke up, how you taught yourself piano because you wanted to be able to play while I sing, the way you smell like peaches every single day, how incredibly aware you are of social issues, how you literally went to a black lives matter protest on your birthday because you said that was the real important stuff, how the music on your phone literally only consists of my stuff, Taylor Swift, and Billy Joel-” You laughed a little, cutting him off. 

“I also have the whole season one of Glee soundtrack.” You swung you and Shawn’s hands back and forth a little bit. It made your whole body feel warm and happy over the fact that he saw all of these little things about you and thought about how much he loved you. He noticed things more than your body and the way you moaned his name. He noticed all of those little things, those dumb things you had barely even thought about. “Shawn, I love you so much. I seriously do, and you mean everything to but I-” He took one of his hands and placed his pointer finger over your lips. 

“But nothing.” He pulled you into a big bear hug, his arms wrapping completely around your body, making you feel like you were in a huge cocoon of love. You wrapped your arms around him, trying to make your hands meet so you can fully hug him back. “It doesn’t matter if I am a pop star or a dumpster diver or if you’re an architect or a screamo lead singer. It doesn’t matter, I love you and you love me. Literally, the only thing that matters. I don’t wanna hear anymore of this ‘not good enough’ shit, got it?” He stated, trying to sound somewhat powerful and dominant. He wasn’t always good at seeming dominant and scary. 

“Sh-” 

“Got it?” He boomed, squeezing you just a little tired. 

“Got it.” You grumbled, “I’m still not going to your Q&A”

author’s note// this was deadass just me going on about how hot shawn is also buy look what you made me do on itunes

[theparaminds]

Aimless. Drifting. Wandering. All words that summarize the fleeting moments before adulthood. For James Ivy, these words summarized the state he used to exist within. Yet now, he finds himself engulfed by the musical clarity he has continuously sought for. Finally, he is free from personal shackles and able to become an artistic individual of the most vulnerable and honest degree.

He admits himself that much of his music is aimed at conjuring up past nostalgia. But this is not simply so one can become reminiscent, no, it is also so that one becomes reflective. In the same way he’s had to trace his life and express the difficulties within his growth, he asks all to do the same. To find the voice tucked away behind walls of self-doubt. Of course, this is also in the pursuit of creating new memories, ones which are even greater than the past.

James Ivy isn’t just making music, he’s truly building a sonic landscape of understanding and expression. One that’s a warm hug on a cold day and a calming reassurance that all will be ok. It’s an environment where no mask is to be worn and where all can bare the depths of their souls without fear. It’s a freedom that all desire, and that all deserve. And if you were to currently summarize James and that landscape, you would simply say; hopeful, passionate and visionary.

This interview was recorded live in New York.

Our first question as always, how’s your day going and how have you been?

Good man, the day’s going good. I had class this morning and it's the last week of school before spring break. I’ve been just laying low a bit and, ya know, just living day by day.

To begin, one of my favorite things about you is your thigh tattoo of Bloo from Foster’s Home. When did you decide you were going to get that and what is the significance of Bloo to you?

I was always a big Cartoon Network stan. Disney channel not really, maybe some Nickelodeon, but Cartoon Network I always watched non-stop as a kid. I used to watch Foster’s Home a lot with my dad. I guess I don’t really care too much about the meanings of my tattoos, I have a house on my arm and it's just like a house, not really much more, just a cool house. The Bloo thing was sorta a spur of the moment where I was visiting friends in Austin, Texas and my friend Luke had just gotten the three line super S from when you're a kid on his arm, as kind of like a joke. And I was like, fuck, maybe I should get one. They egged me on and I just jumped to Bloo from Fosters’. They made it way bigger than I thought they were going to, and it was a super thick line too and hurt like hell. I mean, I guess what I told my parents was that in the show Bloo was the one imaginary friend that was never gonna be adopted because the kid who made him up, never stopped believing in him. So it’s a little corny but it is a cute sentiment about never losing your child side and your imagination.

While growing, what else was it around you and coming throughout your life that was impacting your personal, but more so artistic, development?

I guess I started piano lessons when I was 6 with my mom, and my dad was helping me get into sports at the same time. I learned for 6 years on and off and I was better when I was younger, having lost some the skill. But it gave me a basic understanding of music theory. I listened to a lot of music growing up. Some of it was trash because I didn't have an older sibling to show me the way. My dad showed me bands like Genesis, Yes and Rush. Bands like that. My mom showed me New Order and a lot of new wave dance music. So it was a weird mix of shit, but I ultimately started getting into hip hop and a lot of post-hardcore music. I think that has been the most shaping music to me as an artist which is kinda crazy because  I almost resent it in a weird way. I wish I had been brought up listening to the classics because I had to find all that on my own. I started producing when I was around 13 or 14 years old.  My older cousin showed me a Skrillex song at a wedding in Florida for one of our relatives,  and I just remember being like “holy shit this is nuts.”. I didn’t have an in-depth understanding of electronic music at the time, but when you’re young and impressionable, anything that’s new or different sort of entices you. I got into producing electronic music and had some fun with it, but as I got older it wasn’t really creatively fulfilling. It's been a weird journey for sure and I still feel I’m learning and catching up in some regards.

But how would you reflect upon the past year specifically and the challenges and growth you’ve gone through currently compared to those of a younger you?

I really feel that since coming here to New York I’ve had some of the best experiences of my life. I met some of my best friends in my life. I feel like through the people I’ve been around, I’ve become directly inspired by them. Being in an environment where you have friends who are into music the same way you are, not just over the internet, it's amazing because you grow together and it has become exponential the way we have been growing as artists. I even look at the stuff I was doing with Harry freshman year and I thought it was the best shit ever, and now we realize how far we actually have come. It's exciting.

In your honest opinion, what is the greatest album ever created or at least one you have been constantly coming back to?

Phewwww. Putting me on the spot. It changes all the time, and I definitely can't speak for the best ever created from an objective view. There’s this Dance Gavin Dance record that I’ve been listening to since I was a kid, so I guess I have nostalgia glasses on for it. It’s called Downtown Battle Mountain 2.  If I were to name one album that I’ve heard since coming to college that has been my favorite, it would be Heaven or Las Vegas by the Cocteau Twins. I can’t believe I was sleeping on that album for so long.. A lot of the writing on that record still blows my mind when I listen to it.

Going into these next months, where are you trying to steer your creative vision towards and what are you trying to say with some of the new work you're putting out?

A lot of my writing recently has been a real process for sure. I'm still learning every day and trying to improve. For a while, I was testing myself to write lyrics that are simple on paper but that can be impactful in context of the instrumental surrounding it. Some of my favorite artists, like American Pleasure Club and Dijon, have lyrics that aren't overly complicated but hit home for some reason. I think that's what I was shooting for. But more recently, I’ve been trying more to construct lyrics that mean a lot to me, because for a while I got into a bad habit of detaching from the music a little bit and creating stuff that was for other people, so to speak. A lot of the new stuff is based on memories for me. I want songs to sonically sound like memories that I have. There are certain songs for me that are places and events and time frames in my life, and capturing that nostalgia and bringing it into a form that’s tangible is what I’m trying to accomplish.

What was then some of your personal best memories growing up and why do they mean so much to your life?

The summer of 8th grade. Being on my bike and being a kid freely every single day. I grew up in a suburban town in New Jersey so there’s not much to do besides biking around going to the school to play basketball and swim in people’s pools. That was so fun.  The bliss you can experience during that period of childhood innocence is hard to emulate that at any other point in our lives. Summer before college is another really great memory in my head. It’s sorta like how you feel in middle school, but you’re way older, and it’s a lot different. It’s more coming of age shit that’s happening then.

Then would you say you create for yourself as a personal reflection and therapy and just see the way others take it as an afterthought?

I think it varies song to song. I think my stance on it is from this quote that said that there comes a time after you put out your music that it no longer is only yours. I think that's the best way to put it. There are songs that I can’t listen to anymore that I made, but seeing other people resonate with them means a lot, even if I can’t relate to that song anymore. But seeing other people enjoying it is the best feeling. For a while, I couldn’t even comprehend that people were enjoying my music, so when you really see that in action it’s like a dumbfounding feeling. There’s a youtube video of ‘Boxcutter’ and everyone's just telling their life stories in the comments and seeing that is such a trip. I feel like a lot of songs I write quick are therapy songs, like Sick 1999. I find with those I write a sort of stream of consciousness. I wrote Sick after a super raw and emotional moment in my life. I just sat 30 minutes later and wrote it and released it later that night. That's therapy because you're not sick of it yet by killing yourself going through the mixing processes and editing process and scrutinizing every detail. You just did it and you have to sit with it. It's cathartic. If it can help people also that's amazing.

As well, what are some of the goals and overall plans you hope to see through with your new work?

I’m stoked for this year. I’m finishing songs right now that have been in the works since last summer. Some of them have been as recent as last week. I’m just stoked to finish everything and I’ll just be able to release it. I don't want to set anything in stone but there will be music on the way. I also want to start creating more music videos, working on my live show more and really stepping back into the radar again after taking some time to figure out my sound. And then just roll from there.

Do you hope in the rest of your life to touch on other forms of art and into new avenues of music that you may not have thought of currently?

With music, I’d definitely love to try every part of the process. For example, for a while I didn't like my voice and tried to have someone else do it, but I couldn’t imagine that and had to push through the fear. I like having my hands in the creative process so I feel like I want to do everything. Whether that’s directing music videos for my songs that I have concepts for or even just cinematography and editing would be so exciting. I would love to take my music into scoring and films as a long term dream. I just want to be able to create and feel inspired by the world every morning. That's the ultimate goal.

If you could have any one individual, living or dead, come back and critique your music, who would you choose and why them?

Man. I feel like right away my mind goes to Rick Rubin. I just feel like it’s like, “That's the guy who listens to things and tells you what exactly to do!” I’m not sure if it's him definitively, though. I would love to hear what Justin Vernon would have to say or even like Kevin Parker to be honest.

You mentioned for a minute the opportunity of doing live shows. When you do explore that avenue more, how do you hope to make it personal to you and make it a worthwhile experience?

I just want people to have a good time and for them to jam out and dance their asses off. So, I’m trying to make music that’s danceable. I want to recreate the song as best to my ability while also incorporating live instruments. I really want to move forward with having a live band for the upcoming shows, while also incorporating some of the electronic and digital elements that can’t be recreated with an instrument live. I would hate for people to hear my music and come to my show and be like, this isn't as fun as the record. I just want my live show to be fun and I think right now that's what I’m focused on above all. I think performance art is also something I would love to incorporate later down the line, to see it become more cinematic as well. For now, I’m just trying to make it sound tight as fuck.

If you could play a show in one situation or location, where the money isn’t a question, where would you choose?

I don’t know really, maybe Mars? Call up Space X, like “Elon, send me to Mars so I can play the first set on another planet.”

As an overall, what do you want to be the landmarking importance of James Ivy when it’s all said and done? What do you want the first line of your Wikipedia page to say?

I want it to say: ‘James Ivy, the first Asian American artist to ever ‘do it’. Of course, there are a lot of upcoming artists like Joji and Mitski and Yaeji, but I think there's more room for Asian American representation within this scene as a whole. Anyone can do it now, literally, and I don't want to be defined by the way I look to not do something and I think other kids should be able to see someone who looks like them on stage.  And if I could do that for other kids, it would be the best thing, really.

Would you say then, the whole part of it is showing there’s no limit on creativity and art as a whole?

It’s something that I want to prove to myself. Something I’ve wanted for a while and it’s something I’ve wanted really bad. Part of it is proving it to myself, that I can do this and that pre-existing barriers don’t matter. Through that, you also prove it to others and I think that’s essential. At the end of the day, I would just be happy to live off music, but to be an inspiration for others in that position would mean the most.

Do you have anyone to shoutout? The floor is yours...

All my friends in New York: Harry, Caleb, Ally, my boys since freshman year. Shoutout to Been Stellar. Shoutout to Instupendo, Maxwell young, Stupidrichkid. They're all doing such great things. And shoutout to my friends from Texas, they know who they are and they’ve helped me a lot. And shoutout to Paraminds, man, thanks for letting me do this interview.

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Listen on Soundcloud

Photos by Drake Li

Words and Interview by Guy Mizrahi

[sportsandfitnessinfo]

New Post has been published on http://fitnessandhealthpros.com/beauty/the-moon-juice-cookbook-is-as-woo-woo-as-youd-think-and-i-love-it/

The Moon Juice Cookbook Is As Woo-Woo As You’d Think–And I Love It

Far be it from a beginner’s guide to cooking with adaptogens, the Moon Juice Cookbook is, in reality, a more simple approach to cooking vegan, healthy dishes than most brightly-colored, happy-go-lucky health cookbooks are. There are no preachy, seemingly overdone shots of Bacon in the book that make you feel as though you have failed at life on every daunting level if you don’t become her after drinking one cup of your Golden Milk. The verbiage may be slightly obnoxious at times–and sickeningly spiritual/guru-esque at others–but it seems as though Bacon acts more as the 3rd-person omniscient in the cookbook, rather than the typical blond health nut dressed in her boyfriend’s white tee and faded blue jeans we so often see gracing basically every page of every new-age cookbook. We need fancy cookbooks that are still approachable while being beautifully photographed, enticing, and filled with simple-to-follow recipes. I believe Bacon has done a pretty good job in filling that gap.

Where it Falls Short

Though I have high praise for this cookbook, after showing the recipes to friends and family, many of whom had hitherto never heard of the term “adaptogen,” it would seem that my praise is well warranted…for those who actually know what the heck reishi and ashwagandha are.

Here’s the thing: most of the recipes in the Moon Juice Cookbook almost assume a prior knowledge or awareness about certain ingredients, even though some techniques and bits of advice are offered as sprinklings throughout the cookbook. Some ingredients aren’t explained at all, while others will have you guffawing in shock over their prices after a quick Google search. Reishi, for example, is a type of mushroom you can buy powdered and which is featured in a handful of recipes in Bacon’s cookbook, but that same powdered mushroom goes for $ 49.99 per 100g at my local Whole Foods. At the rate I’m drinking Golden Milk and other beverage recipes found in this cookbook, my food budget will be blown away on powdered fungi. The same can be said for many other ingredients you need for these recipes, including colloidal silver, maca, and the Moon Juice dusts themselves. Although, to be fair, I don’t own any of the dusts and have gotten by just fine without them when making these recipes.

There’s also the issue with the beautiful photography and recipes themselves. Some photos in the cookbook depict dishes that aren’t even in the cookbook, which I found, well…dumbfounding. What’s the point of including an image of zoodles with a yummy looking chia seed sauce if we as readers will never know how to make it? Some of the photography–such as the full-bleed image of a skull with a latte being poured over it–don’t inspire the desire to eat powdered plants but simply appear as artistic filler. And if you look close enough at the recipe themselves, you’ll notice most of them are for “dishes” that aren’t dishes at all; spreads, lattes, juices, or weird crackers that, trust me, you will need therapy just to make.

But we mustn’t forget that this cookbook isn’t a microwave-ready-meals book, nor does it even claim to provide you with full-fledged dinner recipes you can make for your next party. Rather, it provides recipes that are healthy, unique, interesting as hell and quite tasty (even if mushrooms make you gag).

And Why You Should Buy It

Most of the Moon Juice Cookbook consists of recipes that, to the “naked eye,” seem totally unrealistic. To make most of the beverage recipes–not to mention the vegan cheeses–I spent an hour in Whole Foods and walked out with three bags full of superfoods…and a $ 300.00 grocery bill. To say this cookbook is budget-friendly would be a massively misleading claim, and I won’t even try to goad you into buying it even though I myself have found the book to be advantageous. Some have taken issue with the fact that much of Bacon’s overall lifestyle, which her cookbook is absolutely an extension of, seems completely unattainable. And in some respects, the cookbook does make each recipe feel more like a luxury rather than an actual food or beverage you’re going to drink in a nod to better health.

The Moon Juice dusts, which many of the recipes call for, can go for $ 30-$ 40 per container, but given that the cookbook is an extension of Bacon and her cult brand, we have little reason to be shocked that the recipes call for those items. But at no time does Bacon outright tell you that you have to use the dusts to become a better, more beautiful you; the only time you may cringe at the language used to entice you to try the recipes is that used in an almost overtly sexual manner to describe things like milks and coffees. Unlike other healthy living cookbooks, many of which ask insane things of their readers and would-be recipe goers, this cookbook simply gives you recipes for making healthy “dishes” or drinks that don’t make you feel as though you’re a trashcan with absolutely no hope of living well if you don’t make them.

My Verdict

So, whether you’re looking for a beautiful coffee-table book or would simply like to try recipes which will have you incorporating more adaptogens into your everyday regimen, this cookbook is a must. If you can get past the sometimes convoluted, sexually-charged language and disregard the fact that much of the photography depicts things as art, and not necessarily the recipe you’re making, you’ll fall for this cookbook. You don’t even have to buy into the Moon Juice brand or become a cult user of their dusts; you simply have to be open minded. As Bacon reiterates at the beginning of the cookbook, she battled many illnesses and health issues by eating healthy and clean, and though people have mocked her for this, such news is no different from what many people do every day to change their lives. And when we live in a world where women have become famous for eating only bananas for every meal or subsisting on raw juices alone, Bacon’s regimen doesn’t seem so unrealistic or otherworldly.

She also has killer skin, which may just be enough for most of us green beauty-conscious gals to head out and buy this book, even if just for the skin-benefitting recipes.

In my own humble opinion, the cookbook doesn’t so much offer groundbreaking recipes–most are, after all, recipes for things you drink or nibble on, rather than eat as full or main dishes–than it does provide alternative ways to making foods and other ingestibles that you may otherwise choose the sugary/fatty/non-vegan alternative over. Unlike many of her critics, I don’t believe Bacon has made healthy living this bougie, unattainable goal; and it shouldn’t be, either. The cookbook simply says, “Here’s a collection of beautifully healthy recipes; make them if you will, or don’t. But don’t forget to drool over the stellar food photography while you’re at it.”

Have you tried any of The Moon Juice Cookbook recipes?

Also by Jacalyn: Get Wrinkles *And* Acne? Cleansing Grains Are Your New BFF

Related: Adaptogens Are The Top 2017 Wellness Trend You Actually Need In Your Life

Get Amanda Chantal Bacon’s Glow without Breaking the Bank–Moon Dust Optional

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Photo: Free People, Urban Outfitters, Food 52

Originally at :Peaceful Dumpling Written By : Jacalyn Beales