#i abandoned u guys for a while m truly sorry but will someone talk to me 😭😭😭😭

[yujist]

reqs are open !! (someone please send a request i’m going insane)

zZz LOADING L4Y0UTS ℅ P4CK zZz ...

# BLUE PERIOD (>. < ) don't repost

top left header by @/girlsvoid, hashida icon by @/dolay999, pls support the artist !

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[enchantedlokii]

The Last Great American Dynasty

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of terrorism

Characters: Pepper Potts, Tony Stark, Dum-E, JARVIS, James Rhodes, Happy Hogan, Peter Parker, Morgan Stark, Lila Barton, Shuri, Harley Keener, Cassie Lang, EDITH

Mentioned: U, Butterfingers, Howard Stark, The Mandarin, Aldrich Killian

“Rebekah rode up on the afternoon train, it was sunny. Her saltbox house on the coast took her mind off St. Louis. Bill was the heir to the Standard Oil name and money. And the town said, ‘How did a middle-class divorcée do it?’”

Pepper’s heels clicked as she made her way down the long stairwell. She smirked when she saw what Tony was up to. The man was arguing with one of the robots that helped around the lab, pointing at it and scolding it like a child. “Be nice to Dum-E, Tony,” she reprimanded, stepping into the workshop. “You’ll hurt his feelings.”

Tony gaped at her, grabbing his chest dramatically. “I’ve been betrayed,” he gasped. “You’re supposed to be on my side, Pep.”

Pepper rolled her eyes and set the paperwork down on the desk he was sitting at. She couldn’t stop herself from leaning over for a kiss. A few years ago, she would have laughed at anyone who suggested she had a thing for her boss. Now it was common knowledge that the two were together.

“Are we going for a drive?” She asked, looking over at the row of cars. “Maybe drive down to the ocean? Find somewhere private?”

“Because it’s not private here?” Tony asked, raising an eyebrow. “Last I checked, it’s just the two of us.”

“The two of us, JARVIS, Dum-E, U, Butterfingers,” she listed, looking over at the robot that was now distracted picking up spilled parts. “Let’s go somewhere that it’s really just the two of us. No tech. No suits.” She glanced over at the line of different suits enclosed in glass. “Just us.”

And that’s how Pepper found herself wanting her life to be. It wasn’t always easy being the girlfriend of someone like Tony Stark. They were never truly alone. There was always paparazzi or agents or someone watching them. And people liked to talk. They liked to twist words and create tales. And she understood it when she first started working for Stark Industries. The company was none for the scandals and the questionable decisions that Tony made, and before him, Howard. But that was before.

Not everyone could see that Tony had changed, but she could. She knew that he was different now. She knew that he cared for her and that he wanted nothing more than to protect her. His eyes sparkled now as he looked at her. “Okay,” he breathed. “Let’s go.”

“The wedding was charming, if a little gauche. There’s only so far new money goes. They picked out a home and called it ‘Holiday House.’ Their parties were tasteful, if a little loud. The doctor had told him to settle down. It must have been her fault his heart gave out.”

“You okay, Tony?”

Tony glanced over his shoulder and saw that Rhodey had came in. He had a red tux on that Tony had picked out for him to wear. Happy had a similar one on. But there was another matching tux hanging on the closet. “I’m okay,” he replied, giving his friend a small smile. “Just. . . He was supposed to be here.”

Rhodey frowned, glancing over at the suit. He looked back at Tony and walked over, putting a hand on his shoulder. “He wouldn’t want you to be upset,” Rhodey reminded him, crouching down to be level with him as he sat. “You know he’s here in spirit. He’ll be watching, and I bet his cheers will be the loudest of all.”

Tony smiled and hugged his friend. “Thanks, Rhodey,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “I-I think I’m ready.”

“Great,” Rhodey replied, holding out a hand to help him up. “Let’s get you out there.”

Tony could feel his heart pounding as he let Rhodey lead him outside. Everyone turned to look at him, smiling. His chest ached. It always ached some, but more than usual now. Because there were empty seats in the crowd. They had lost.

He stepped off the porch, glancing back at the beautiful home behind him. He loved the lake house, and so did Pepper. It was safe, tucked away in the woods of Upstate New York. It was a great place to raise their unborn daughter.

But not even the beauty of the home compared to how Pepper looked when she finally stepped out, a veil covering her ginger hair. The tight-fitted dress made her small bump visible, and she held one arm around it protectively. She would do whatever it took to protect her child. And so would he.

“And they said: There goes the last great American dynasty. Who knows, if she never showed up, what could’ve been. There goes the maddest woman this town has ever seen. She had a marvelous time ruining everything.”

“Mommy!”

Pepper forced a smile as Morgan ran towards her, a wide smile on her face. She crouched down and held out her arms, pulling the girl close to her chest and stroking her hair. She didn’t even realize she was crying until a sob escaped her throat. How was she supposed to explain to her baby that her dad wasn’t coming home?

“Mommy, why you crying?” Morgan asked, looking up at her with wide eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Sweetie,” Pepper choked out, pulling Morgan closer once again. “Y-you know how sometimes bad things happen? H-how Daddy has to help fix them?”

“Yeah,” Morgan said quietly.

“Morgan. . . Baby, he went to go help. You know that. He went to try to bring Peter home. You remember him telling you that, right?” she asked.

“Mommy, I’m scared,” Morgan whimpered. Pepper only held on tighter, unable to stop the streams of tears that spilled into her daughter’s hair.

“I’m sorry, Baby. Daddy’s not coming home.”

“Rebekah gave up on the Rhode Island set forever. Flew in all her B*tch Pack friends from the city. Filled the pool with champagne and swam with the big names. And blew through the money on the boys and the ballet. And losing on card game bets with Dalí.”

Morgan looked up as someone knocked on the door. She abandoned the project she was working on when she thought she heard her mother moving upstairs. “I’ve got it, Mom!” she called, walking over to the door and swinging it open. She smiled when she saw the familiar faces.

“Morgan!” One of the girls spoke up first; Lila. She was a lot older than Morgan. Most of them were, but their parents were friends. They grew up together. Morgan was smarter than most girls her age, anyway, so they didn’t mind.

One by one, her friends stepped inside. Until one stopped in front of her. “Hey, M,” the boy said softly. He was just a bit taller than her despite being so much older. “How are you, Little Miss?”

Morgan smiled and moved to hug him. “Hey, Petey,” she murmured, pressing her face against his chest. “I’m good. I’m really good.”

“Peter! Morgan! Come on!”

Morgan turned as Shuri waved them over. Her hair was wrapped in a tight bun, and she was pulling her shirt over her head to reveal her green bathing suit. “Let’s go!”

“Okay! Okay!” Morgan called, grabbing Peter’s hand and pulling him over. She made sure to give him a tight squeeze before letting him move to talk to Harley while she joined Lila, Shuri, and Cassie.

The girl pulled the oversized MIT shirt over her head to reveal the red-and-gold bathing suit she was wearing underneath. She grinned widely, heading towards the back door. “Avengers!” All the others looked up at her curiously. “Assemble!”

“And they said: There goes the last great American dynasty. Who knows, if she never showed up, what could’ve been. There goes the most shameless woman this town has ever seen. She had a marvelous time ruining everything.”

Morgan huffed as she dropped the box in her uncle’s trunk. She turned to make sure he wasn’t looking before peeking inside and making sure the nanobot casing was still inside. She grinned and patted it before closing the box back and pushing it against the back of the seat.

“Alright, Morgan, I think this is the last of it,” Rhodey called, carrying a box out of the house. Happy was behind him, talking quietly with Pepper. She silently wished that Peter was here with them, but he stopped by the day before to give her a hug and wish her luck.

“Good,” Morgan said, smiling as Rhodey put the box with the others. “We should probably go ahead and leave then, yeah?”

“Yeah, if we want to get there before dark,” Rhodey agreed, putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into a side hug. “Go tell Pep and Happy bye.”

Morgan nodded and ran up the steps to stand in front of the two. “Well,” she started. “This is it.”

Pepper smiled and ran a hand through Morgan’s long hair. “I’m gonna miss you, Baby Girl,” she murmured before pulling her into a hug. “Your dad would be so proud of you. You know that, right?”

Morgan just nodded into her chest. That’s what everyone had told her when she was accepted into MIT. “You think he knows?” she asked quietly.

“I’m sure he does,” Pepper assured her. “I know that he’ll never stop looking out for you. He wouldn’t dare.”

“I hope so,” she mumbled before pulling away and going to hug Happy. “Keep an eye on Peter while I’m gone?”

“Morgan, I’ve been keeping an eye on him since before you were born,” Happy chuckled, rubbing her back. “Don’t worry. I won’t let him do anything stupid while you’re gone.”

“Good,” Morgan smiled. “I’ll miss you, Uncle Happy.”

“I’ll miss you too, Sweet Pea,” he replied. “If you ever get homesick, call me. I don’t care if it’s three in the morning, I’ll come pick you up.”

“Morgan,” Morgan turned back and saw that Rhodey was closing the trunk. “We need to go.”

Morgan nodded and stepped back. “I’ll see you guys at Christmas,” she said, giving them a watery smile. “Love you three thousand.”

“They say she was seen on occasion. Pacing the rocks, staring out at the midnight sea. And in a feud with her neighbor. She stole his dog and dyed it key lime green.”

“Morgan Stark.” Morgan froze, turning slowly and lifting the faceplate of her suit. “So this is what you’ve been up to.”

“Mom, I can explain,” Morgan said, landing the suit and tapping the arc reactor so the suit would retract itself. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“It looks like you’ve been building more suits after I told you not to,” Pepper said, crossing her arms. Her expression was unreadable, and Morgan wasn’t completely sure if she was mad or amused or maybe a bit of both. Maybe even something completely different. “You’re just like Tony.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Morgan asked, unsnapping the arc reactor and rubbing it with her hand. She may not remember much about her father, but she knew that he was a hero. People loved him, and they loved her for being his daughter.

“No,” Pepper sighed, coming closer. “It just worries me, Sweetie. I don’t want to lose you too. You know you’re all I have left.”

“You won’t,” Morgan assured her before falling silent, looking out at the ocean beside them. “I just feel closer to him when I have a suit on.”

“I know,” Pepper murmured, following her gaze. Her gray hair looked silver in the moonlight. “You know, I used to hate his suits. So much. He would spend hours in the workshop sometimes. I almost left him because of it.”

“Yeah?” Morgan asked, still looking at the water.

“Yeah,” Pepper replied, looking down at her feet. “I’m glad that I came to my senses.”

Morgan smirked, glancing over at her. “I’m glad you did too,” she chuckled, earning an eye roll. She smiled as her mom pulled her into a hug. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, Morgan. So much.”

“Fifty years is a long time. Holiday House sat quietly on that beach. Free of women with madness, their men and bad habits. And then it was bought by me.”

Morgan almost sobbed when she saw it. She looked down at the picture in her hand and grinned, looking back at the newly rebuilt penthouse. It looked just like the picture. This. . . This was her dad’s home. And it was beautiful.

“You ready?” Peter asked. He was standing beside her, a hand on her shoulder. He had helped her design the inside of the penthouse, and even helped set up the tech inside. It had been destroyed before he knew her dad, but he was old enough to remember seeing it on TV.

“Yeah,” she breathed, letting him lead her inside. He pushed a button on his glasses. “EDITH, lights.”

As they stepped inside, the lights turned on, brightening the room. The living room was large, a piano resting in the corner beside the couch. It looked just like the pictures that she had seen of the inside when her parents lived there.

“I-it’s perfect,” she breathed. She smiled and squeezed Peter tight. “Thank you so much, Bubba.”

“Of course, Sis,” he replied, kissing the top of her head. “I, um, I have a little surprise for you. Come on.”

Morgan tilted her head slightly before following Peter down the staircase. Morgan’s eyes widened as she saw the workshop. It was much bigger than the one in the lakehouse. She was sure this was the surprise that Peter was talking about, but he held a hand up before she could speak, closing his eyes. “Mr. Stark?”

Morgan blinked, stepping back as a blue figure popped up in front of her. She felt tears in her eyes as she immediately recognized him. “D-Dad?”

“Hey, Maguna,” he greeted her, smiling softly. He glanced around at the room, taking everything in. “Wow, never thought I would see this place again.”

Morgan gaped, looking at Peter. “I-is he. . ? H-how?”

“It’s not new tech,” he shrugged. “I’ve enhanced it. Tested it out with some memories that weren’t uploaded to the system, and. . . Yeah, it’s him.”

Morgan looked back at her father with wide eyes. “You’re real?” she questioned, still in shock. He looked just like she always remembered. Just like that hologram video that she would playback sometimes so she would never forget his voice.

“Yeah, Sweetie. I’m real.”

“Who knows, if I never showed up, what could have been. There goes the loudest woman this town has ever seen. I had a marvelous time ruining everything.”

Morgan let a small growl escape as she made her way downstairs. She picked up a pair of gauntlets and strapped them on, wanting to blast something. To destroy something. Anything. She was muttering under her breath, and nearly walked through the hologram as it appeared in front of her. “Woah, Morgan. What’s wrong?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she muttered, walking past her dad. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Morgan. . .”

“You don’t want to know, Dad,” Morgan huffed. “You’ll be mad at me.”

“Kiddo, you know some of the things I did when I was your age,” Tony pressed. Morgan stopped but didn’t look at him. “Talk to me.”

“The press said I wasn’t fit to run Stark Industries,” she sighed, turning to give him a sad look. She used her hand to pull up an article, letting him read it. “I got mad. Furious. I yelled at them. And it just made everything so much worse. They said I’m unstable. That my temper will destroy the company.”

“Come sit with me,” Tony insisted, walking over to the couch in the corner. Morgan hesitated before joining him. “Did Pepper ever tell you how this place got destroyed?”

“She said it was attacked by terrorists,” Morgan told him. “That it was too damaged to repair.”

“But she didn’t tell you why it was attacked by terrorists?” he asked. After she shook her head he continued. “We never really talked about it much after it happened. It was the worst Christmas we ever had. . . There was this man called the Mandarin. He was claiming responsiblity for dozens of terrorist attacks around the country. One of them happened here in Malibu.

“Happy got caught in the crossfire. It almost killed him, and I was furious. I let the world know, and the next day we were attacked. Turned out the Mandarin was a coverup and it was a man named Aldrich Killian. I had met him once years before and refused to work with him, and he wanted revenge. So he came up with Extremis.”

“Wait, Extremis. . . That’s when you met Harley, right?” she asked. Everything was starting to click together.

“Right,” he replied. “The point is, we make mistakes and we pay the consequences for them. People thought I was crazy for challenging the Mandarin, but in the end, everything turned out fine. I met Harley, me and Rhodey and Pepper stopped Extremis, and no one else died because of Killian.”

“Yeah, but that was you,” Morgan countered. “You’re a hero. An Avenger. I’m just me.”

“I wasn’t always a hero, Bug,” he told her. “I made a lot of mistakes and gained a lot of enemies. My temper was bad too. Just ask your mom or your uncles. It wasn’t pretty.”

“I can’t imagine anyone hating you as much as the press hates me right now,” she sighed, leaning back against the cushion. “I don’t know what to do, Dad.”

“Just don’t let them get to you,” he replied. “Go down to the beach and blow off some steam, then tomorrow get back out there and make sure they know you’re not giving up. Remind them who you are and remind them that Starks don’t give up.”

“I had a marvelous time ruining everything. A marvelous time ruining everything. A marvelous time. I had a marvelous time.”

Morgan took a shaky breath as she walked up to the podium. The room was packed, and only a few faces in the crowd were familiar to her. She glanced down at the hologram on her watch. “You got this, Bug,” her dad whispered, giving her a small smile.

She smiled back and looked up at the people. “Hello, everyone,” she started. She glanced at the cards that she had made, skimming over the scribbled words. “A lot of you have been asking about why I should be given a chance as the next CEO of Stark Industries and. . .”

Morgan trailed off, looking at the cards again. “Really, at first, I wasn’t so sure this was for me,” she said, laying the cards face down on the podium and looking back at the crowd. “Because, really, who could do a better job at this than my parents did?”

She paused, risking a glance down at the image on her watch. Her dad just nodded for her to keep going. Letting her know that this was okay. “The truth is,” she started, looking back up. “I have been working for years to try to live up to my father’s legacy. To be the person that he would want me to be. And he told me once that if I believe something is right, to never give up on it. No matter who tells you that you’re wrong or that you’re crazy.

“I’ve built more arc reactors now than I can count. I was the top of my class at MIT. I’ve recreated every version of the Iron Man suit that’s ever existed, plus more. And I have ideas that no one else is brave enough to try.

“I’ve been called a lot of things since I’ve moved here. I’ve been told that I’m not my father. And I’m not. No one could ever be as great as he was. But I am a Stark and I will fight for this company,” she smirked at a camera, looking around the room. “I’m not Iron Man. I never will be. But I will make sure that the marks he has made are never forgotten.”

[mccarricks]

( brittany o’grady / demi woman ) WESLEY McCARRICK is 23 years old and is a SENIOR at thales university. SHE is majoring in FILM and is known for being THE MAVERICK as THEY can be HUMOROUS and OPEN-MINDED as well as DITZY and IMPULSIVE. every time i see HER/THEM, THEY remind me of PURPLE SKY IN THE DESERT, SKATING AS FAST AS YOU CAN TO FEEL THE WIND ON YOU, A JOKE TOLD WITH A TOOTHY GRIN.

hero’s back w character no. 2 and yet......

full name: wesley ‘wes’ elaine mccarrick

birthdate: february 2, 1997

age: 23

gender: demi woman

pronouns: she/her/they/them

zodiac: aquarius

nationality: american

ethnicity: black (louisiana creole) and white (irish)

hometown: santa fe, nm

languages: english, intermediate spanish

family:

theodore mccarrick, father

elaine barlow, mother

ruby mccarrick, older brother

delphine mccarrick, older sister

sherri barlow, maternal grandmother

many cousins

orientation: bisexual biromantic, pref. towards women/nb people but will date men

religion: agnostic

height: 5 ft 4 in

distinguishing features: eyebrows, hair, lips

character inspo: ilana wexler (broad city), harley quinn (dc comics), phoebe buffay (friends), prob more

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

TRIGGERS: divorce, mentions of crime, drug and alcohol use

the youngest child of ted and elaine mccarrick, wes was a kid who is full of life. she’s the kind of kid who did things to make you smile, and it usually worked. she was warm and inviting, a little naive, but she had a strong support system.

her parents divorce when she’s six, she doesn’t quite understand it but her dad moves out, and her grandma and multiple cousins move in. it’s a lively household, between her mom, who works as a nurse, and her siblings, and her cousins, it was never really quiet and there was never a lot of room.

despite the split, her parents maintain that their children have a relationship with both of them, and truthfully, wes is a daddy’s girl. she and her dad were cut from the same cloth, happy go lucky, fun loving, a bit silly, he’s the one who introduces her to movies. it’s their thing, watching and critiquing them together, and it’s not whatever is in theatres either. they went for all times of filmmaking, new wave, surrealist, and more.

it really stuck with wes, who herself had begun making movies, mostly horror/fantasy/scifi stuff with her friends-- she writes and directs and occasionally, she’ll don a costume and star in them. they’re silly little things, but her family always sat down for her “premieres.”

her formative years are marked with plenty of things, sports, deaths of distant family members, a cousin or two who gets caught in the wrong crowd and ends up in jail, and throughout this, wes remains a rock for her family.

she’s in high school, and she gets into the eclectic crowd, the outcasts, the weirdos, the ones who smoked under the bridge, and partied out in an abandoned trailer near the desert. these freaks were her freaks. they accepted her with open arms, as she them.  

she chooses thales because she always wants to see the east coast, and frankly, as much as she loves her family, she wants to be free of them. and they have a fantastic film program. so!

she meets steven in their first film class together, and they’re fast friends, despite her usual weariness of YET another film bro, steven proves to be a good egg. so she thinks. she finds out through him talking that he might not be the most faithful to his girlfriend, and as much as she doesn’t like meddling, she thinks it’s only right to let clarissa, who she doesn’t really know well, know. however, before there’s a chance, everything happens-- now she’s stuck wondering if she should reveal the truth, or let sleeping dogs lie.

nana is different, nana and her dated her sophomore year, nana’s freshman year. it wasn’t serious. but they were fond of each other. they eventually break up, but they stay friendly, waving to each other in the halls, chatting at parties.

both the disappearance and the murder is weird for wes, who by all accounts, isn’t great at dealing with bad shit. she prefers to laugh about things. laugh about everything. because if she doesn’t laugh, she’ll cry.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

wes is a mess, a free-spirit, a walking contradiction. she’s very independent minded, the kind of person who does things without thinking so much about the consequences, this leads her into trouble sometimes. like nicking something from a convenience store, or stealing a stop sign as a prank. she’s definitely the kind to goof off and not exactly dedicate her full attention to something. and while she’s in genuinely good spirits on most occasions, she has a staunch ‘no asshole’ policy. the type to defend the underdogs, and go after bullies. she’ll punch you with a smile on her face, and yet it ends up being more unnerving than you realize. she’s a bit of a ditz, as well, never the best at school, but can talk your ear off about the going ons of the world. she’s a lovable dumbass, for sure, and loyal to a tee once you get her as a friend.

𝐓𝐈𝐃𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒

horror movie fan! her favorites are some of the oldies, like dracula and  the bride of frankenstein! and some new ones! big fan of jordan peele’s work, as well as ari aster’s! but mostly really advocates for women directors and directors of color!

also does roller derby! she picked this up her first year at thales and fell in love with it, i can’t think of a name for her yet, but she’s a blocker, won’t hesitate to elbow some dick at the bar

kinda a tomboy? she’s always been! she’s rough and tumble and not afraid to get down and dirty with someone, i.e. will join those football games on the quad or crawl through the mud for a scene to shoot

doesn’t know if she wants to be a director/writer or a cinematographer honestly.... she loves the technical aspects of film as much as the making the stories

definition of a bruh girl, says it a whole lot, but also just if you tell her you love her, she’ll just roll her eyes and be like you’re an idiot (which means she loves you too) she’ll be affectionate if she’s close to you

kinda a wh*re oops....... texts multiple girls at a time and doesn’t want to hurt any of their feelings she doesn’t know how she keeps ending up in these situations... also a bisexual disaster

a stoner as well..... always has a massive jar of weed

unclear whether she lives on campus or off campus but if she does live off campus she has a pet turtle named elsa lanchester after the bride of frankenstein actress

a drummer! she’s in a band (name tbd) she started drumming at a young age and found it was a good way to manage her aggression

doesn’t really do well with emotions, so she’ll either be like there, there, or try to make jokes.... she really said kids can you lighten up

walking meme... such a walking meme... doesn’t know so many things she’s like a cute puppy with no thoughts head empty but she’s so fun to be around

life of the party.... nana she came fr ur spot and she took it and she’s not sorry but she does miss u a lot

doesn’t rly feel like she’s allowed to be upset anyways bc some people have it...... way worse.... can u say Imposter syndrome

kind of an enabler...... will be that person to push u to try things but not in a peer pressurey way, more like if u are unsure abt sending a text she says do it

wears fun earrings and socks! think lollipops or gummy bears or found objects like she collects that shit it’s her lifeline

boxes! she’s been boxing since she was abt 12, courtesy of her older brother (who is now a doctor thx ruby) and it’s a good way to exercise and release stress

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

best friend -- two of a feather, cut from the same cloth, or complete opposites it doesnt matter to her (the abbi to her ilana)

roller derby friends -- she’s p close to the team, margs on her

makeup artist pal -- i think it would be neat fr someone to try and teach her makeup whether its normal or sfx bc she wants to look like a monster or smthn

she’s gullible, u take advantage of that -- u just tell her lies p much and she’s like yeah ok that sounds right

party friends

classmates

fwbs (f/m/nb) -- tbh she might have one or two of these but they literally are the def of pals who bone sometimes... like v good abt being like you good? u dont want more? cool me too

exes (f/m/nb) -- mostly dated women or nb people but def cld have had a guy

she smokes you out -- p much the only reason u hang out w her is bc she has good weed

someone she’s fought -- like fully decked in the face, prob said something that rubbed her the wrong way and it just devolved from there

people who dislike her -- she could definitely be seen as annoying bc shes loud and dorky and funny so ??

breaks someone out of their shell -- p self explanatory, pushes them to have fun, w everything happening shes rly like lifes too short to not take the opportunities around u

cousins! probably on her dad’s side! i figure she has some east coast fam 

anything? truly?

[dvp95]

can’t breathe when you touch my sleeve - chapter 9

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

rating: e

warnings: none

tags: alternate universe, slow burn, fluff & humour, tiny bit of inner turmoil wrt sexuality but trust me it’s not that deep, deeper than anticipated but still not that deep y'all this is primarily silly, eventual smut, idiots in love

word count: 6,538 for this chapter (41,509 total)

summary: Dan keeps making a fool of himself in interviews, to the point where it’s basically a meme. Now he’s got to sit down for the better part of an hour and sell his show to the YouTuber he’d had a massive crush on when he was a teenager.

read from the beginning on ao3 or on tumblr!

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

Dan wakes up alone. He's stretched out on Phil's sheets, mostly on his stomach, and he buries his face in a pillow to hide from the afternoon sunlight streaming through Phil's small windows. He listens carefully, but he can't hear Phil shuffling around the room or anything.

He's not overly worried, really. This is Phil's place. It would be next level weird for him to cut and run.

Sure enough, when Dan blinks away the spots in his vision and looks around the flat, he sees a sticky note on Phil's headboard. Had to go to work! Won't say your name on the radio lol, it says, and Dan feels a surge of fondness and embarrassment.

He rolls onto his back and rubs at his face, trying to wipe the stupid grin off even though nobody's here to see it. He grins wider when he remembers that someone else is here, actually.

"Thor," he calls out, not bothering to sit up. "C'mere, buddy!"

The jangling of Thor's collar and the rapid taps of his claws on the hardwood floor let him know that the dog is approaching.

Dan looks over and sees Thor sitting at the side of the bed, head cocked and ears perked. He might actually start to cry; he is obsessed with this dog.

"Hey there," he coos, patting the bed next to him in invitation. Thor just keeps looking at him. If Dan were to assign a human emotion to Thor's vibe right now, he'd say the dog looked dubious. "C'mon up, little guy, I won't bite."

Thor jumps up with his stumpy legs and Dan laughs delightedly at the height he can manage when he's got a running start. He snuffles into Dan's borrowed shirt and gives him a bunch of sloppy kisses.

Truly, there is no better way to wake up. Dan is in heaven right now.

He gives Thor a bunch of pats and coos nonsense at him for a little while. He's not really in a hurry to go anywhere. In fact, he wouldn't get out of bed at all if it weren't for his bladder starting to get angry with him. Dan sighs and gives Thor a kiss on his tiny forehead.

"I gotta get up," he laments. He blinks at Thor.

Thor blinks back.

"You need to get up, too," he informs the dog very solemnly.

Thor puts his front paws down like he's getting ready to play and lolls his tongue out, smiling at Dan.

Dan clutches at his chest dramatically and fumbles around for his phone. He needs to capture this moment. He notices that he's got missed texts, missed calls, but he shoves the spike of anxiety to the side in order to focus on getting cute photos and videos of Thor. He takes a bunch of the corgi alone, giggling to himself the whole time, and then pulls Thor close to him to take a few selfies as well.

After brushing his teeth and taking a quick piss, Dan lies back down and looks through the camera roll. He's smiling at his phone and petting one of Thor's soft ears. They're all super cute pictures, good enough to post if they weren't so laden in implications.

Two photos - one of them grinning wide at the camera and a follow-up where Dan's face is scrunched in laughter as Thor gives him a surprise kiss to his nose - get messaged to Phil instead of posted.

It's almost as good, really. After a beat, he sends the photos to Jaime and Patrick as well. He's already talked to them about everything, more or less, and he just wants to share the joy he's feeling right now to people who get it. His thumb hesitates. After a moment of consideration, he sends just the silly picture to Adrian.

Adrian responds with a knife emoji, followed by a heart eyes emoji.

They're never going to be like Phil and his brother, working together and razzing each other over dinner, but that's okay. Dan feels a little bit of softness in his chest, easing some of that decades-old guilt. Maybe they can, at least, be more than the strangers they are now.

Spurred on by something as simple as his brother replying immediately, Dan holds his breath and opens the text chain with his mum.

Blimey dear that must be a load off after all this time! Of course I still want to see you on Saturday... I love you with my whole heart and always will xx.

Fuck. He's not going to cry. He won't cry. Not here. Dan inhales lungfuls of air in gasps, trying not to let them turn into raspy sobs. Thor makes an inquisitive noise and noses at Dan's hand.

"I'm okay," he whispers, even if he isn't quite sure that's true. He makes a bunch of typos as he replies to her, just a short love you too that takes him an entire minute to get right. He doesn't want to make a big deal over this, even though it is a big deal, so he just adds a heart emoji and buries his face in Thor's soft fur.

His phone buzzes a few times, but Dan ignores it for a little while. He feels safe in Phil's bed, Thor in his arms, and he doesn't want to face the world again until he feels a bit less fragile. Eventually, though, Thor wiggles out of his grasp and bounds off the bed in search of a toy.

Jaime and Patrick have both responded to the dog selfies, Jaime with a string of barely-comprehensible emotional texts and Patrick with a single exclamation point iMessage reaction.

Phil has sent him a selfie in return, wearing radio headphones and a pout. Hate that I'm at work!!!!!!!!, he captions it. Dan hates that, too. He sends a quick shot of Thor on the other side of the flat with the caption, abandoned by both of u.

By the time he circles back to his mum, he isn't really sure what to expect. She isn't the type to wax poetic about her feelings, none of them are, so he doesn't anticipate another round of affection and love and pride right this second. Maybe in her goodbye text when he heads to the continent. Not right away.

Sure enough, she's said, Why don't you & I grab lunch in the city on Saturday? I've been meaning to try this new sushi bar... xx. Dan's heart sinks.

It's okay, he reminds himself. His mum loves him. Adrian loves him. They both said so.

His mum not wanting him to come to the house anymore speaks volumes to Dan. He expected this, anyway - his dad barely wanted to see him before this, Dan's always been nothing but a physical reminder of his wasted youth, and it isn't shocking that he doesn't want to see Dan now.

Dan lies back down and covers his head with Phil's duvet. He'll let himself be sad, just for a minute, for the loss. This is the first relationship he has to cut off if he wants to live authentically, move forward as a gay man who doesn't hate himself, and it hits hard. Maybe he'll let himself be angry, after this. Then, he'll get out of bed and start living the authentic, quietly proud life that he's only ever dreamed of.

It's okay. But, right now, it stings a bit.

--

By the time Thor's ears perk up and he runs to the door, a clear indication that Phil is home, Dan has well and truly gone through some stages of grief and landed on repression. He's been playing Guild Wars and idly tidying Phil's flat throughout the day, lazy with the impromptu day off as he is. Thor follows him around and Dan plies him with more treats than he thinks Phil would approve of.

Dan feels a little sheepish when Phil comes in and he's just lounging on the sofa with his laptop and a pair of Phil's ridiculous slippers on his feet. The flat looks better than it had last night, but Dan has done fuck all with himself. He could have at least showered, he supposes.

"Hey," he says, tugging an earphone out and giving Phil a quick glance. "Sorry, I'm raiding, I'll give you attention in a second."

"Hi, Dan, my day was good," Phil says dryly. "Thanks for asking."

"You signed up for this," Dan informs him, not taking his eyes off the screen again. He can hear Phil enthusiastically greeting Thor, which makes him smile. "I did make dinner, 's in the oven."

"You cook?" Phil sounds far too surprised, in Dan's opinion.

Dan's character gets murked, and he shuts his laptop with a little huff of a noise. Normally he'd wait out the respawn and keep playing, but he's got more important things to focus on. "No, not really. I know how to throw a bunch of stuff in a pot or dish until it's food."

He gets a proper look at Phil while he peeks in the oven and feels even more like maybe he should have gotten dressed.

It's not like he's dressed up nicely or anything - he's wearing the corgi jumper that he interviewed Dan in and a pair of Vans that are surely on their last legs - but the fact that he is dressed gives him a head start on Dan. He looks a little tired, and Dan wonders if it's comfort or a distinct lack of it that has Phil's shoulders hunched forward more than usual.

"It smells good," Phil informs him, smiling a bit. "You didn't have to do that, y'know."

"Shut up, I wanted to," says Dan.

"I don't think I've come home to food cooking since I lived with my parents," Phil says, his hands inside out in his jean pockets. "I, uh, better not get used to it, huh?"

That definitely is a problem. The elephant in the room, that Dan can't just stay here forever. Dan sighs and stands, carefully stepping around the sofa so he doesn't trip on Thor. He comes close to wrap his arms around Phil's shoulders, smiling when Phil immediately takes hold of his waist like they're dancing.

"Hi, Phil," Dan mocks softly. "Good to see you, how was your day?"

Phil laughs. "Alright. Better now."

"Good," says Dan, and then he kisses Phil. It hasn't even been a full day since he did it last, but he hums and arches into it like it's been months.

They're making up for preemptive lost time. Dan is distracted, though, even when Phil licks into his mouth and pulls him closer. He can't stop thinking about the call he'd made to Amy earlier, the things his agent had said to him.

Netflix announces renewals and cancellations whenever it pleases, not on any sort of set schedule, so Dan will have to live in limbo for a little while. Amy doesn't know how long, exactly, but she promised him to at least find him a British film or series to do in the space between seasons. She called him an idiot, but she agreed to it.

Dan is wondering if he should tell Phil about that conversation. He spends half a minute tossing the possibilities around in his head while Phil sucks on his tongue, his lip.

This is so stupid. Dan pulls back from the kiss. He laughs a bit and puts a palm on Phil's chest to stop him from coming back for more. It warms Dan, knowing that Phil doesn't want to stop kissing him.

"Down, boy," he jokes, and Phil rolls his eyes.

"I don't like this habit you have of interrupting us," says Phil. His cool hands slip under Dan's borrowed Friends shirt. His thumbs trace mirroring shapes just under Dan's ribcage. Now that is distracting. "You could just let me keep kissing you."

"I could," Dan agrees. "But I've got shit to say, y'know?"

Phil grins at him, exasperated in a way that Dan thinks he could get used to. "I've noticed, Dan, that you always have shit to say. And I'd love to listen. Any other time."

"Rude," says Dan. There's no real heat to it, since Phil is right. "It's just that I almost didn't tell you something important because I didn't want to get your hopes up or sound like a freak, and then I remembered the disaster that not talking became last time, so, fuck it."

Even though he's already had experience with watching Phil's eyes go neutral and guarded, it's still a bit of a weird thing to watch happen up close.

It's not even that Phil is a particularly good actor, it's just that he's clearly so practiced in hiding his reactions to things that he can switch it on in an instant. Dan huffs a bit and pokes at Phil's cheek.

"None of that," he scolds.

"None of what?" Phil asks. He's smiling now, though. "What's so important?"

"I talked to my agent," says Dan. "Things are up in the air until we know if we're getting a fourth season, but. I'm thinking about moving to London if we aren't."

Phil's smile goes absolutely blinding, but he sounds suspicious when he says, "Really? That's something you want?"

"I always wanted to live here," Dan says with a little shrug. "Just got lucky in America and ended up staying. Nothing specific was really drawing me back here, I just knew London was always a 'someday' thing. Every time I come back for Christmas I remember how much I like it here." Dan pauses, then jokes, "It's not all about you, y'know."

It kind of is. The timing of it, at least, but Phil doesn't have to know that.

"Yeah, alright," Phil says, outright beaming at Dan now. "Makes sense to me, it's a way better place to live than Atlanta."

Dan laughs. "Atlanta is fine, you jealous bitch."

"I guess," says Phil. He presses a couple of soft kisses to Dan's jaw. Dan is ready to get carried away again before he adds, "It must be hard being so far from your family, as well. You'll get to see them more."

He knows that Phil is only trying to motivate him into staying without actively using himself as a reason, but Dan still grimaces.

"I'll probably see them about the same amount, honestly," he says. "Except my grandma, I'm sure I'll have tea with her every once in a while."

"Don't be silly, I'm sure they'd be excited," says Phil.

That's a very easy thing for Phil to say. Dan can't help the face he pulls at the idea of his family being excited that he's nearby. "They really won't. My parents aren't like yours, Phil, and my brother definitely isn't."

Phil cocks his head and blinks. Dan almost laughs at how eerily similar the action looks to Thor's confusion.

"Well, I know nobody's family is perfect," Phil says, squeezing Dan's waist. "I just figured you'd like to be closer to them."

"No," Dan says honestly. "I mean, it's not like it's a reason not to live in London. Where I am in relation to my family doesn't really affect my decision either way, TBH."

He kind of expects Phil to keep arguing with him about it. Dan only reached out to his mum about getting together in the first place after Phil got all disapproving about how little Dan sees them. Maybe he just takes Dan's word for it this time, though, because all he says is an easy, "Okay."

That's all it takes, really. Phil's agreement, even if he doesn't understand. Dan has already told this guy more about himself than anyone else he knows, and he can feel the words bubbling uncomfortably in his throat.

"I don't actually want to talk about this," says Dan, "but, like, okay, I came out to my family and only some of them are handling it well."

Actual understanding dawns on Phil's face, and he just nods.

"We won't talk about it, then," he says. Like it's that simple. "Let's eat. I'm gonna take Thor to the park afterwards if you want to come with us."

Dan leans in for a grateful kiss that lingers a bit too long. Phil's hands travel further up his shirt, tracing along Dan's ribs and making him shiver. "Thanks," he murmurs into the barely-there space between their mouths. "I'll come with you guys."

For as long as Dan has known about commitment issues, he's known that he has them. With personal projects, with schoolwork, with his own sense of self. It's hard for him to settle on something, harder still to follow through. He's felt it with the women he's dated, too, but he'd already known there was an underlying issue that made it impossible for him to say, 'yeah, okay, this could be something I do long-term'.

Now he's making out with a man who he's pretty sure is his boyfriend, even if they hadn't actually said that word, talking about sharing dinner and dog walks and clothes, and Dan has never done this before, and he knows that he's committing to something just by being here right now.

He waits for that moment of panic so he can whack it aside with some logic, but. It never comes.

Huh.

--

When they head to bed later that night, it isn't because Phil has almost passed out on the sofa again. They'd been ignoring a film for about an hour to snog, and Phil's perpetually cold hands had started wandering about five minutes into that.

Dan had managed to handle Phil's hands under his shirt, in his hair, on his thighs, even brushing the side of his neck, all without major issues. When Phil had decided to outright grope his ass through his too-tight jeans, though, Dan's brain had short circuited. So he'd dragged Phil across the room and pulled him down in a tangle of limbs and laughter as they accidentally elbowed and kneed at each other.

They're not exactly graceful people, but Dan can't complain much with Phil's hands in his back pockets and Phil's mouth on his jaw.

Dan's breathing already feels too loud in the softly lit room, small windows not letting much background noise through at all, and Phil isn't even doing much of anything to him yet.

The part of Dan's brain that exists only to remind him that he's attracted to men has literally never been so loud. He'd foolishly assumed that admitting it to himself and other people would shut it the fuck up, but instead it is outright screaming at him.

You're so fucking gay! it reminds him, as if it's yodeling from the top of a mountain.

Yeah, Dan thinks, he is, he's aware, he's currently straddling a guy he really likes and mouthing at his neck to try and get his breathing as ragged as Dan's is. He doesn't need the commentary.

Still, it keeps shouting, and it only gets louder when Phil tangles one hand in his hair and tugs him back up for an open-mouthed kiss.

He's kissing you! AmazingPhil is kissing you! that part of his mind is chanting, and in the short break between their lips meeting, Dan can't help but murmur a, "Shut up."

Phil pauses. Dan realises he's said that out loud and promptly wants to die.

"I didn't say anything," says Phil. His voice is low and amused, and Dan feels a renewed spark of heat up his spine.

"Not you," Dan says.

Raising his eyebrows, Phil makes a point to look around the flat as best he can without dislodging Dan from his hips. "Uh huh. Y'know, I always knew this place was haunted. I just figured I'd be the one to make friends with the ghosts."

"You're ridiculous," says Dan, but he can't stop himself from smiling.

"I'm not the one talking to ghosts," says Phil.

"I'm not taking to ghosts, Phil, I'm talking to myself. My brain won't shut off, it's so fucking loud right now."

Phil laughs, but he doesn't seem like he's making fun of Dan. He twirls his finger around one of Dan's curls and grins up at him. "I can help with that," he says. In case there were any doubt about what he means, Phil squeezes Dan's ass. "Bet I could make your brain be quiet."

"Yeah?" Dan grins and noses at Phil's jaw. "Yeah, alright, do your worst."

"What do you want?" Phil asks, using his light grip on Dan's hair to make Dan look at him. Dan personally thinks he could tug harder, but they can talk about that when Dan has to pull up a PowerPoint presentation on his kinks.

That's not an easy question. Dan wants everything, whatever Phil's got on offer. He shrugs.

"Honestly," says Dan, "I'm even easier about sex than I am about food."

"This has not been easy," Phil grumbles, good-natured about it. Dan cackles in response. Not a very attractive sound, but Phil doesn't seem to mind. He just smiles.

"Okay, yeah, fair enough," says Dan. "You know what I mean. You can make that call, I believe in you. Although, for you to make an informed decision, you should know I haven't showered since..." He trails off, frowning.

"Not a good sign that you can't remember," Phil laughs. He doesn't seem anxious the way he has when Dan pushes him in the past, but maybe he's just feeling the same loose vulnerability that's making Dan go mad with it. Phil hums and toys with Dan's hair. "Uh, alright, you wanna maybe fuck me?"

The suggestion being somehow both unsure and totally blunt makes Dan laugh, and then Phil is ducking giggles into Dan's collarbone, too.

"How is that a question?" Dan grins. "Sure I do."

Phil is grinning back at him, bright and beautiful, and Dan has to lean in and connect their lips again for a long moment. "Mm, you wanna grab the stuff from the loo, then? And put Thor in there while you're at it."

"Why do I have to?"

"You're on top of me."

"I don't have to be. You go put the dog away."

"No, you should - okay," Phil cuts himself off with a laugh and takes his hand off Dan's ass to hold it up between them in a fist. "Rock, paper, scissors you for it?"

As Dan proceeds to lose two of three - and then three of five, and then five of seven when he keeps complaining about not being in the Zone - it occurs to him that this whole thing feels ridiculous.

It's not a bad thing. Dan hasn't had silly sex in a very, very long time. He's certainly never had sex with someone he trusts quite as much as he trusts Phil. He's trying not to think about that too hard when he lures Thor into the bathroom with treats and his favourite toy, because he doesn't want to accidentally activate his own fight or flight reflex.

Phil is propped up on his elbows in bed, watching Dan with an absent smile on his face, and Dan remembers seeing him like this when they were drunk together. He'd been sprawled out over Dan's sheets and smirking up at him and Dan hadn't done anything about it.

"God, I'm stupid," Dan breathes, and Phil laughs.

"Yeah," he agrees, even though he can't possibly know what Dan is thinking about. "You just gonna stand there?"

With a rude gesture, Dan tosses the bottle of lube at Phil, who yelps as it almost hits him in the face. Dan finds himself cackling again as he fights to get his ultra-skinny jeans off his legs while he's still standing. He'd put them on to go to the dog park - stayed in the Friends shirt, though, it's very comfortable - but he's regretting that now. Phil's cotton shorts would be way less awkward to shimmy out of.

"Must you watch me do this?" Dan huffs, hopping on one foot as he tries to yank his jeans down over his other ankle. "It's not exactly sexy."

"It's very funny, though," says Phil.

Dan manages to get his jeans and socks off without injury, and then he flops back into bed to help Phil with his own tight jeans.

"We need to rethink our fashion," Dan laughs. Phil is giggling, too, and lifting his hips for Dan, and this is all so fun. Dan had actually forgotten that sex could be fun. His jeans come off easier than Dan's, thank god, and Dan runs his hands over Phil's thighs with a little hum. "Damn, you're pale."

Phil makes an amused, choked-off noise and kicks out at Dan without actually trying to hit him. "Hey, fuck you, you're supposed to say nice stuff to me."

"I'm so sorry, Phil, the beauty of your alabaster legs just drive me crazy," Dan simpers, exaggeratedly batting his eyelashes. He's being a dick about it, but the sentiment behind the words are true enough. Phil's got nice legs, nice thighs, a nice semi in his nice boxers. Dan brushes his fingers in a way that's probably ticklish and laughs when Phil kicks his shin for real. "Fucking ow, do you want me to tell you how hot you are or not?"

"You're so annoying," Phil informs him, and then he's sitting up to take his shirt off and Dan's mouth goes dry for real.

"Oh," he says, shifting further up the bed so he can flick his thumb over the metal bar in Phil's left nipple. He hadn't really expected that from Phil. Dan blinks, trying to get his brain back online. "Why didn't you get both?'

Whatever Phil was expecting him to say, it wasn't that. He sits there for a moment, stumped, the pads of Dan's fingers curiously poking at his nipple. It doesn't seem like it's very sensitive. Dan wonders if that's from the piercing or if Phil just doesn't have sensitive nipples. He wonders how long this piercing has been here - it hadn't been, back when he was an avid AmazingPhil subscriber, and Phil hasn't taken his shirt off for YouTube in years.

Then, Phil shrugs. "You only get one pierced, don't you?"

"I think most people get both," Dan says, but he's talking on autopilot right now. He shakes his head, tries to clear it. "Fucking symmetry or whatever, yeah?"

"I guess," Phil says. He doesn't shrug again, but his broad, bare shoulders twitch like they want to. He's got freckles and beauty marks on his shoulders and arms and torso, and Dan wants to get his mouth on every single one.

"No offense," says Dan, "but I really didn't peg you as the piercing type."

Phil smirks a bit. "Wow, the MySpace boy I was trying so hard to be is crying right now. Yeah, I dunno, it was one of the really impulsive things I did a couple years ago. Getting Thor was one of those, I think I told you about that."

He had. Dan remembers it, vaguely, remembers wondering if Phil was hiding a tattoo under his clothes.

"Did it hurt?"

"Not as much as I expected," says Phil. "And definitely not as much as my other ones did."

Dan narrows his eyes and looks Phil over, dubious. Phil isn't wearing anything but a pair of boxer briefs with sushi print on them, and Dan can't see any more metal or healing holes on him. Phil's little smirk only grows while Dan looks him over carefully. "Stop fucking with me, you don't have more piercings."

Phil raises an eyebrow and his hips in a synchronicity that Dan didn't know his body possessed. Dan swallows, hard, can hear his heart pounding as it rushes all the blood in his brain south and makes him a little dizzy.

The room is quiet and still and too hot for a long beat. Then, Dan pulls his borrowed shirt off and chucks it somewhere over his shoulder so that the cool air of the basement can stop him from overheating. He slides his fingers under the hem of Phil's boxers and pulls them down his long legs, unable to stop himself from dropping a kiss to one of Phil's very pale thighs as he does.

"Fuck," Dan breathes. He nips at Phil's thigh a bit, making the muscles there jerk. "Alright, so I can see how that would hurt more."

Phil's cock is pretty and thick, which Dan suspected but had no way of knowing, and it's also got two piercings in it. Dan knows the name of the one, a Prince Albert ring right at the tip of Phil's dick, but he has no idea what the other is called.

He has to touch them, of course. He wraps his hand around Phil's cock and rubs his thumb back and forth over the ring, watching Phil's face carefully as he does.

"Dan," is all Phil says, but his voice has gone low and his eyes have gone dark, so Dan figures he's doing something right.

"What the hell is this?" Dan has to ask, trailing his fingers down Phil's cock to nudge at the bar through the bottom of it, right above his balls. "Like, what is it called? Also, why did you do this? Also, also, I want to suck your dick now."

Phil laughs, throaty and dark, and that doesn't help Dan's situation at all.

"You only grabbed one condom," he points out, waving the wrapper in Dan's face. "So you can either fuck me or suck me off, your call."

"I don't need a condom to suck your dick," says Dan.

Somehow, even with Dan's hand idly stroking him and playing with the piercings, Phil manages to roll his eyes. "You do. I'm not giving you a safe sex lecture, Dan, either make up your mind or go get another condom."

Dan sulks, but he doesn't bother arguing. He hasn't actually heard Phil be so strongly opinionated about something before. There's not a hint of hesitation or anxiety in telling Dan what he wants, and Dan likes that too much to bicker over something as miniscule as a condom.

"Fine," he sighs, sitting up between Phil's legs and letting go of his dick.

"Aw, Dan," Phil lightly mocks. He reaches out and pets Dan's hair, which Dan is only a little embarrassed to lean into. "It's like you don't even know that getting tested together can be third base for gay people."

"Well, I don't know," Dan huffs. He's a little prickly and defensive about the teasing, but Phil smiles at him so softly that he melts all over again. "It's been a while, okay? And it's not like any of us were the smartest bulbs about this shit in uni."

With a sympathetic little hum of a noise, Phil pulls Dan up by the hair to kiss him. It's slow and lingering and Dan's body is pressed against Phil's with the angle, only his thin Calvins in the way of them sliding together. When Phil pulls back, Dan is the one who gets stopped from leaning in for more.

"Sorry," Phil says, quiet and sincere and still smiling. "I really will talk about why it's important to me later, but right now I just really need you to put your stupidly big hands to work."

Another request, no hesitation. Dan is only too happy to oblige.

Dan has never fingered another guy before. The rare times, back in the day, that he hadn't been craving something inside him to ease that constant tension he carried around with him, Dan's sexual partners had just done the task themselves.

Still, it's not rocket science. He's had his fingers in women and in himself before, how different could it be?

Too much lube and a wrist cramp later, Dan is getting the hang of things. He's using his right hand on Phil so his left wrist can take a break, pushing and prodding deep with his longest fingers to coax drawn-out noises from Phil's pretty lips. Dan kisses him, rocks against his hip, murmurs absolute nonsense into his ear that he'll feel embarrassed about when he isn't so fucking turned on. He hasn't managed to consistently hit Phil's prostate or anything but Phil doesn't seem to mind. He's grinding into Dan's hand, biting his lip hard, murmuring, "That's it, you've got it, c'mon, give me another."

"Yeah, alright," Dan breathes, carefully pressing another finger into him and shuddering at the way Phil's back arches into it.

This is easily the hottest thing he's ever done, and that might be pathetic if it wasn't so obvious that nothing else could even come close to this. Phil doesn't bother telling Dan when he's ready, he just shoves the condom into Dan's free palm and wraps a hand around himself.

"Not getting any younger, here," Phil says on a little pant, and Dan realises that he's just been staring.

"Right, fuck, okay."

Dan's fingers shake a bit, but he manages to get his boxers off and his cock ready without any incidents - aside from another mean twinge in his left wrist. He waits and just looks at Phil again, spread legs and long neck and all gorgeous man, and Phil's eyelashes flutter as he tugs lightly on one of his piercings, fuck.

"C'mon," Phil urges again, hooking a lanky leg over Dan's hip to pull him closer.

"It's gonna be like that, is it?" Dan laughs breathlessly. He hoists Phils body up by his thighs for a better angle and keeps a hand on Phil's ass to hold him there. "Fucking pillow princess, I should have guessed."

"Whatever, Dan," says Phil. He seems very distracted by Dan lining his cock up and slowly, so slowly, pressing inside of him. Phil groans then, the loudest noise he's made yet, and rocks his hips to take more of Dan's cock than Dan is giving him. "Not gonna fucking break, c'mon."

"Jesus, Phil," Dan half-laughs, half-moans. "So demanding. Feel so good, though, shit, I can't stay in Atlanta, I can't not have this all the - fuck - all the time."

It just kind of slips out, the way everything Dan babbles during sex slips out, but Phil is nodding along anyway, wrapping his arms around Dan's shoulders to pull him down into a messy kiss.

The wet noises where they're joined should be comical, maybe, all squelching lube and skin slapping against skin as Dan starts to fuck into Phil properly, but Dan is too focused on the breathy noises escaping from their kiss to care. This is just what sex sounds like - this is what sex with Phil sounds like, and Dan could really get used to that.

Phil's heel digs into the small of Dan's back to urge him on until, presumably, his leg gets tired or cramped and he wraps them both around Dan's hips instead. They gasp into each other's mouths at the slight change in angle, and Dan's hips snap forward.

If Phil weren't sucking on his tongue right now, Dan would be prattling on and moaning loud and generally making an idiot of himself. He feels the telltale sensation of heat in his gut that means there's an orgasm at the finish line, he just needs to get there.

Dan plants a hand on the bed and lifts Phil's lower body a bit more with the other, moaning absolute nonsense into Phil's mouth as he thrusts a little harder and faster to try and get Phil where he is.

A whine reverberates through Dan's body as Phil makes the noise with his teeth on Dan's lower lip, and then Dan can feel the rhythmic nudges of Phil's knuckles against his stomach as he jacks himself off, fast, because he's close too and Dan can tell. Dan wants to wait it out, he does, but Phil feels too good around his cock for him to hold out any longer. His orgasm hits and he groans like he’s been punched in the stomach, burying his face into Phil’s neck as he does.

He hears Phil say, "Fuck, okay, just stay there," and stays deep inside of him, pressing wet kisses to his neck and grinding his hips in little circles until Phil gets his, too, toes curling against the backs of Dan's thighs with a quiet groan and one hand gripping his hair so tight that Dan sees stars.

Dan presses a soft kiss to Phil's jaw and carefully pulls out of him to flop onto his back, trying to get his breathing back to a regular rate. He's seriously unfit when he isn't filming, his personal trainer would be so furious about all the Domino's he's been eating. He laughs at the thought of his trainer's angry face and then he's just giggling, throwing an arm over his face to hide from Phil's curious eyes.

"I think you fucked me stupid," Dan tells him through the giggles, and Phil responds with a low chuckle.

Arms are wrapped around Dan's waist and a line of kisses are dropped along his collarbone. "Hey, now," says Phil, his voice low and fucked out, "I can't take credit for that. You were stupid when you got here."

"Oi," Dan laughs, shoving at him. If they had more energy, they'd probably roll around until all the mocking words are just breathless laughter, but as it is they just manage to elbow each other a few times and then curl closer. It's quiet for a few minutes, just holding each other close and letting their hands brush softly over each other's skin.

Then, Phil yawns.

"Okay," he says, like he's psyching himself up. "Contacts out. Dog out. Pants on."

"That last one seems optional," Dan says, waggling his eyebrows. Phil laughs and swats at his chest.

"You," says Phil, swatting the same spot again for good measure, "condom off, pants on."

"What is this pants agenda you're pushing on me?" Dan hums into Phil's hair. It smells sweet, like some kind of berry. "I'm not sure I'm interested in these pants you speak of."

Phil laughs and pulls away to stretch all his long limbs out. Dan takes the opportunity to shamelessly check him out again, admiring the glints of metal that the majority of the world doesn't get to see. "You will be. Thor's going to want to cuddle after we locked him up."

He watches Phil as he searches his room for clean boxers, wolf-whistling when he bends down and laughing at the finger he gets in return.

"Yeah, okay," says Dan. He feels a smile spread across his face before he even thinks about it. Yeah. This is what he wants. This is what, for some godforsaken reason, he's been allowed to have.

[b-b-b-billdenbrough]

can i be close to you? // stenbrough

“Alright so if you’re looking for prompts, mmmmmmconsider stenbrough like cuddling and maybe talking about the events in the sewer and what happened while Stan was separated from the group (sorry I’m on anon I’m shy)”

i’m sorry this took rlly long i just kept getting busy and having whack ass depression days but !!! i finished it last night!!! here u go !!! <3 <3 <3 read it on ao3 here <3  pairing : stenbrough wordcount : 2,150 tw : self harm scars  reblogs appreciated v much

Three years, five months, and twelve days. It had been three years, five months, and twelve days since the loser’s club defeated Pennywise. Stanley Uris remembered that. It wasn’t as much that he wanted to, but he couldn’t forget that day, despite his efforts in forgetting any of it happened.

At first, it felt unreal. Acceptance to such a concept wasn’t something Stan would do. For one It didn’t make sense, and that was enough for the losers to think that Stan thought. But he was terrified of It, and admitting that would mean he thought It was real, and he would never do either of those. Admitting his fear, to him, meant admitting defeat at the first sign of danger he faced. Waking up every morning, he felt a brutal reminder of that damn clown and the lady with the flute. The ring of scars around his face were an unavoidable reminder of his own past, and all the feelings never shared from that summer.

Pulling a sweater over his head, he felt the fabric against the scars surrounding his face, giving his the gentle reminder of being abandoned by his friends. While slipping his arms into the sleeves, fabric brushed against scars reminding him of the isolation he felt in the time after. No matter how good of a mood Stanley Uris woke up in, the good feeling couldn’t seem to stick with him after that.

On that particular day, however, Derry High School had been on February break, and Stan been able to hang out with the losers the entire time, having gone five days since he had last seen any of them. He missed being around all of them as a group, and as individual friends who he loves. He missed hearing Mike talk about the farm, and his dog, whenever Stan prompted and felt like he needed something to cheer him up like seeing one of him best friends light up like Mike would. Mike had the ability to make himself someone’s home.

He already felt himself missing studying with Ben in the library, bringing snacks for them to share, and having each other’s studying routines and schedule memorized for so long neither of them need to think about what the other is going to work on. Their bond was one that he couldn’t describe as anything but clean. They didn’t mess around when together, and they never fought about anything.

He missed letting himself goof around at lunch with Beverly, seeing that was the only time during the day he knew for certain he would see her, making Stan’s mind try a little harder to have fun during the half hour they got to see each other. She could always get him to have a little more fun, care a little less when they were together.

He missed Eddie’s worry about Stan. It wasn’t as often, as Stan tried not to let his friends know enough to feel worry for him, but there was a level of comfort knowing someone cares enough to worry about the little things in your life. He would never tell Eddie how parental the action felt, because Eddie wouldn’t like it, but the comfort in the actions warmed Stan’s heart.

Missing Richie Tozier wasn’t something Stan would say out loud, but he missed the jokes his best friend made, along with the voices Stan always rolled his eyes and laughed at. Their understanding of each other like no other friendship he had with anyone, and they both noticed their understanding of each other, while being so different. And last, but most clearly not least, Stan missed Bill.

He missed the smaller things between them, like sharing his sandwich with Bill, who never learned how to make a good lunch or shop for groceries after his parent’s shut themselves away. Stan missed helping Bill study French and getting to hear him speak the language without any faults or signs of a stutter, or hiding out in the library during their study hall period and trying to help Bill understand chemistry, which he was truly horrible at. Alongside that, he missed the comfort Bill brought. The warmth that came along with his presence, and the kisses they shared, but never labeled, sneaking around their friends, along with the whole world. Standing a little too close, holding hands for a little too long, Stan was feeling himself miss everything about Bill, more so than his other friends.

Missing all his friends didn’t do Stan any good. He had avoided long periods of alone time after the encounter with Pennywise. The time he spent separated from his friends would only make him think, and remember hid trauma, making more little scars along his arms when he couldn’t deal with it all at once. Luckily for Stan, however, despite his own feelings consuming him, had planned to stay over at Bill’s house for the night a few weeks ago.

Entering Bill’s house without knocking was considered the norm for the losers, as Bill’s parents didn’t care what happened in their house, and Bill always considered them welcome in his house. Stan remembered Bill saying that his house wasn’t a home without the loser’s keeping him company, only the memory of a family to keep him company.

There was a draft in the living room, the lights and curtains not allowing any light inside. He couldn’t tell if Sharon and Zach were home, but he knew if they were, it wouldn’t matter. Stepping up the stairs to Bill’s room, he could hear a record playing faintly. He recognized it to be by The Smiths, “There is a Light and it Never Goes Out”. The song was one of Bill’s favorites, and he and the rest of their friends all pitched in to buy the album it was on on vinyl for him during Christmas season. With a light knock, Stan opened the door, smiling when he saw Bill at his desk, typing away at some story he’d thought of on his typewriter. The noises of the typewriter, and the music playing absentmindedly in the back reminded Stan of how lonely and quiet Bill’s life was when he wasn’t with his friends, which Stan could fully understand.

“Just g-gimme a s-s-second, I’m a-almost done this p-paragraph.” Bill typed the rest of what he thought as Stan moved to sit on his bed, laying down after hearing Bill type more and more. The song ended, going on to Some Girls are Bigger Than Others, the last song of the album Bill loved. Stan knew Bill had probably been writing since last night, forgetting about sleep and staying up, only moving out of his spot to change the album or play it again. The sound of Bill typing stopped, Bill sighing as he stood up, feeling his body move for the first time in a while. He smiled over at Stan, blowing some of his hair away from his face. Stan moved closer to the wall for Bill to lay down with him, which he happily did, laying shoulder-to-shoulder with Stan. “I-I missed you, I f-feel like i-i-its been a long time.” Bill turned to look at Stan, finding Stan’s eyes already on him. They both smiled at each other, finding it natural for them to be so close. Hesitating for a second, Bill leaned over to kiss Stan slowly, missing the feeling of their lips connecting after having been away from him for too long. The feeling wasn’t new to either of them, but it still felt the same as the first time. After a second Bill pulled away, a soft smile resting on his face. Stan found Bill’s smile to be one of the most stunning things he’d seen, making a smile evident on his face as well. Both of the boys moods were in a better place than they had been at the start of the day, or even compared to when Stan walked in, just by a simple action like a kiss. And as much as Stan wished it could, he knew the mood shift from earlier couldn’t last him all day, even with Bill around him.

Stan enjoyed hanging out with Bill like they did. Bill and him would talk, lying close together, and he was content with it for the most part. The comfortable small talk filled their ears as well as filled the loneliness they had both been plagued with all throughout their time away from their friends. The sweater he wore continuously scratched against his arms, making him cringe at the feeling against his scars. Stan didn’t notice his constant movement, which vastly differed from how he normalls was.

“S-Stan, are yuh-you okay? You seem k-kind of t-tense.” Bill’s tone was gentle, and his movement to hold Stan’s hand was as well. Stan pulled his hand away from Bill’s too quickly, making his own eyes widen in shock of what he had done. It was such a simple gesture on Bill’s part, they have held hands an eternity of times, but all Stan could think was he knows he knows he knows until he managed to process what Bill asked him. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay, I’m fine.” His voice came out weak, like he’d exhausted himself and wanted to rest again.

“B-b-bullshit. What’s b-bugging you?” Bill reached over again, trying to see Stan as he’d turned away. “I know y-you miss the losers, b-b-but we’ll s-see everyone tomorrow, r-remember? We’ve only g-got one m-more day awuh-wuh-way from them.” Stan felt his own chest starting to rise and fall with less ease, feeling weight on it inside him. He thought it might be the weight of everything he had been hiding from everyone, crushing him with the guilt and shame he felt.

“What about next time?” Speaking felt even heavier, but he knew he couldn’t stay silent forever, and he couldn’t keep this burden on his lungs any longer. “What about the next time I can’t see you guys, or the next time you leave me alone? Remember Neibolt? That fucking clown? What if there’s no fucking next time.” His chest felt heavier with every word, but his brain cleared up more he spoke. “You don’t know the shit that happened to me, Bill. You remember the lady with the flute? The one who ate my face? Do you know how scared I was that I was going to die? That the last memory I would have would be of some demon eating me in a fucking sewer all alone? I’ve never been so damn scared of being alone.” Stan didn’t notice the tears streaming down his face until they started to land on his neck.

Stan hadn’t seen Bill look so heartbroken since that year, when his own brother went missing. He felt that maybe he snapped, he’d talked too much, he should’ve put it all in the past when it happened and not have to worry about it three years later while trying to have a good day. Bill tried to reach to hold Stan’s hand again, which Stan lightly accepted, barely grasping onto him, internalizing his fear even farther without realizing it.

“I d-didn’t w-want to p-push you to t-talk right after It h-h-happened. We were a-a-all n-nervous you didn’t want to t-t-talk about it, and wanted to w-wait on you to b-b-be ready.” Stan couldn’t feel the words instantly calming all his nerves and magically solving his issues, he felt comfort in them nonetheless. “I cuh-cuh-care about you, so muh-muh-much, I d-didn’t know it was that h-h-horrible.” Bill looked at Stan’s hands, the hands he was holding, seeing scars peeking out from his sleeves. Bill couldn’t bring himself to saying anything, feeling Stan’s tiredness radiating off of him. “H-Hey, I love you, okay?” Bill tried to remind him, smiling gently at Stan as to meet him where he is. Stan can only offer a weak smile back, more for Bill’s sake than his own.

“Can we just… I’m so damn tired.” Stan already is pulling himself under Bill’s comforter when he started talking, gently pulling Bill’s hands over to make sure he knew that he wanted to stay close anc cuddle up to him. Bill followed along, pulling the blankets over him, turning to face Stanley’s back and wrap his arms around him. Stan sighed to himself as Bill did so, holding his hands as they spooned. All the pressure previously trying to collapse Stan’s chest had left him, feeling like he could breathe for the first time in years. It wasn’t a full breath, somewhat shallow and hard to keep in his lungs, he didn’t feel the burden he’d been hiding for so long plaguing him anymore. With Bill close by to keep him feeling secured, he felt less of a reminder that It happened, and told himself for the first time that you made it.

[rreader]

Addiction.

Pairing: Negan x Reader ; Rick x Daughter!Reader Fandom: TWD Warnings: s m u t :’) ; language ; guilt

Summary: He was like a drug. You kept coming back for more, even though you knew that it was wrong.

A/N: you want to know the best source for inspiration? DREAMS. holy cow, this entire thing is based on a dream I had last night and I haven’t had a fandom dream in ages so there you go! also, I’ve had a hard time writing this week due to the lack of inspiration, so this really helped! hope you guys like this!!! (added Negan to my fandoms page!)

                                                         *****

“Where are you going?” you closed your eyes and let out a sigh. You knew this wouldn’t be as easy as just walking out the front gate. It never was this easy.

“Supply run,” you turned around and smiled as innocently as possible at your father.

“Again?”

“Well, this is a big community, dad.”

“Alright,” Rick, your father, nodded and you turned around, about to make your way to the gate once more, when he said: “But let me go get Carl. It’s better if you go together.”

“What?! No!” you spurred around so fast that it must have looked suspicious, so you quickly cleared your throat and straightened your back, “I mean.. why? I’m old enough, dad. I know what I’m doing and I won’t go far.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. He knew that something was up and you were worried that if you stayed any longer and he’d start to ask questions, he’d find out. And quite frankly? This was a secret you never wanted him to find out about. So you ran up to him, quickly kissed his cheek and smiled once more.

“I’ll be fine. I won’t be long, I promise,” and with that, you were gone.

After all, you didn’t want to keep him waiting.

                                                           ***

You closed the door to the clothing shop behind you and took off your jacket.

“Sorry it took so long.”

You could hear Lucille scraping over the wooden floor and when you turned around, there he was, leaning casually against the wall, biting his lip while looking you up and down.

You didn’t particularly wear anything sexy. Your usual clothing, consisting out of a pair of black, ripped jeans, a normal, beige shirt and some black boots. Yet, somehow, when this guy looked at you, he made it seem like you were wearing the hottest lingerie he had ever seen in his life. 

“Thought you’d leave me hanging today, baby girl.”

“We talked about this. Don’t call me that.”

You rolled up your sleeves and walked over to him, until your boobs almost touched his chest and looked up at him.

“Right. Because it reminds you that you’re fucking your father’s biggest nightmare. For the.. what is it.. 9th time, now?” Your fingers ran over the back of his hand until you could feel the hard wood of Lucille under your fingertips. It took him a bit, but eventually he let go of her so you could carefully place her against the wall, “You know, I don’t let just anyone touch my baby like that.”

“I feel honored. Now are we going to fuck or what?”

Negan started chuckling, showing off his white teeth. This man truly was the epiphamy of sex. No wonder you kept coming back to him, with a smile like that and a dick as big as his. 

“I love it when you talk dirty,” he slapped your ass once, then he let you guide him towards the back of the shop, where a couch was already waiting for you.

This was your usual meeting spot. It was a clothing shop right between Alexandria and the Sanctuary. Barely anyone cared about buying the newest clothing in these times, so you wouldn’t be disturbed here. The windows were barricaded with pieces of wood, so while it was the middle of the day outside, the shop remained mostly dark. Only a few rays of sunshine managed to sneak inside. But maybe that wasn’t so bad..

Your guilty conscience was horrible enough as it was. This was the guy that killed some of your friends, that planned on murdering your father and yet, here you were, fucking him once more.

He was like a drug and you were the junkie. You couldn’t stop coming back to him, because, even in all this mess, he made you feel.. something. For a little while, he made you feel like the world was okay again and it was not something you wanted to go without. You wanted to keep this feeling for as long as possible. Sure, you could fuck anyone else to get this feeling, you were a pretty girl, you wouldn’t have any problems with finding someone. But Negan..

This act of doing something forbidden, this dirty little secret.. 

It only fueled your want for him.

You convinced yourself that, if the time came, if he ever attacked your friends and family again, you’d not hesitate to put a bullet between his eyes..

..but only time could tell whether or not you’d actually do that.

You turned around to face him and got up on your tiptoes to capture his lips in a heated kiss. His hands first remained on your waist, then they quickly found their way down to your ass, squeezing it a couple of times. In the meantime, you pushed the leather jacket down his shoulders and he let go of your ass for a second, so that it could fall down to the floor. Once they had returned to his favorite part of your body, he pulled you closer towards him and you could already feel the boner in his pants. You started to grin and bit down his lower lip. 

“Someone’s excited.”

“Just do us both a favor and take those fucking clothes off, before I rip them off you.”

You chuckled like he had before, took a step back and pulled the shirt over your head. You had left the bra at home, knowing that you wouldn’t need it anyways. His breathing hitched and his eyes wandered down to your breasts and your already hard nipples.

He absentmindedly started to open up his belt, pulled it out of the loops of his pants and let it join the other items of clothing that were already abandoned on the floor. 

“Are your pants getting a little too tight, Negan?” you batted your lashes innocently at him and cocked your head to the side.

He didn’t even waste time with answering this question, since the answer was obvious. He took off his shirt, then you helped him get out of his pants and he helped you out of yours in return.

Once you were naked you walked around him and pushed him onto the couch. Then, finally, you straddled him, placing your hands on the backrest of the couch on either side of his face. His hands brushed up and down your thighs, while his mouth was already devouring one of your breasts. You let him do that for a little while, enjoying the feeling of his tongue swirling around your nipple and the occasional bite here and there, but then you grabbed his chin and made him look up at you, right when he entered you.

He let out a long breath, while you couldn’t help the small moan that escaped your throat. You bit your lip and remained in that position for a little while, simply savoring that feeling of him inside you like that for a few seconds. 

And even though it was pretty dark in here, when you opened your eyes again, you found him staring at you, with his hazel eyes that usually always had this flicker of spite in them. But you could not find a trace of malice in them right now. No.. now, they were filled with lust. 

You took your time riding him and not once did you look away. You held his eye contact the entire time. Eventually, he was the one that broke it, but only so that he could put his hand behind your head and pull it towards him for another deep kiss.

The faster you moved, the louder your moans became. You only hoped that no walkers were nearby, or you were sure that they’d hear you.

“Fucking hell, (Y/N),” Negan laughed and let his head fall back against the backrest, fully enjoying the feeling of being ridden like that.

Usually he was the one on top, but this was quite the nice too. He could watch your boobs bounce up and down, could see how much you enjoyed this. And he prided himself on knowing that he could make you feel this way.

Fucking the daughter of his nemesis.

Maybe that’s why this was so fucking hot and he kept coming back for more.

When you could feel your orgasm approach your fingernails dug into the leather of the couch. The couch, that was used by you two so many times, that it had definitely gotten some marks on the backrest from your nails. 

“Fuck,” he leaned forward and buried his face in your neck, plastering kisses all over it.

From the way his arms were stiffening around your body, you could tell that he was close as well and it only took a few more minutes before you could feel your walls tighten around him, which was the last bit he needed to spill himself inside you.

You hugged him tightly and allowed yourself a couple of seconds to catch your breath, breathing in the smell of his aftershave. 

Once you came down from your high and your guilt was starting to overwhelm you, you got up and started to collect your clothes.

He didn’t seem too eager to do so. He simply watched you get dressed, legs far apart, hands behind his head.

“Next week, same time,” was the last thing you said, before walking out of the door again.

The guilt became worse every damn time.

But then again, the sex became better each time as well.

This was a devil’s triangle.

[senatorrorgana]

Young Gods - Two

a/n: this chapter is a bit longer! more character in it such as getting to see finn, and there's a little more backstory on ben turning to the dark side (hint: i made it slightly similar to why anakin turned, though you know, not the exact same). either way i hope you guys enjoy it, i can't believe we still have to wait eight more months until the last jedi, i need it now!

rating: m

ao3: (x)

There was a reason behind everything Ben had done; why he left the temple, why he killed all the people he killed, why he joined the First Order. The reason was Rey.

He left the temple because he knew there was something coming for his sister that he couldn’t protect her from under Luke’s teachings, he killed the new Jedi to keep Rey safe from them trying to use her against him, he joined the First Order to learn how to truly protect her with powers Luke would never have taught him. He did everything for her, unlike their parents who cast them aside, and in the end she cast him aside as well, repulsed by what he became to keep her safe and fleeing with Luke. In a cruel twist of fate, he had become the darkness that threatened to hunt her down, along with the rest of the First Order; but despite everything, Ben would kill anyone who tried to harm her.

Supreme Leader Snoke saw this in Ben’s heart, he’d ordered him to kill Rey on more than one occasion, and every time he got close and saw her - he couldn’t do it. Despite hurting her, in more ways than one, she was still the only thing that mattered to him in this entire galaxy, she was all he had.

The sharp stinging pain caused by the med droid tending to his new wounds was enough to pull him from his thoughts and back into the reality around him. The harsh cuts and wounds on his back serving as a reminder from Snoke and his other lackeys that disobedience was not tolerated within the Order. All those punishments used to work when he was young, now he was used to the pain and they held little effect over his actions. Snoke knew there were other ways to hurt him, using pain like this was just a warning, if he ever did something severe, he knew what his master would do to keep him in line. Letting a rebel spy escape with her life because she looked like his sister was nothing compared to what he could have done.

“That’s enough.” Ben barked the order at the droid, it stopping instantly and leaving his chambers without another beep in protest.

With the droid gone, Ben walked over to a nearby mirror in his room, seeing not much of anything other than a walking collection of scars. A scar on his bottom lip from Rey daring him to climb the tallest tree they could find when they were little, scars on his arms and hands from training with Luke when he was a padawan, the rest of the scars on his chest and back were all from his time here - training, disobeying, his rage getting the better of him and hurting himself in the process of hurting something else.

“Sir,” the voice of Captain Phasma came through the communicator he left on his bedside table, “we have a lead on the Jedi.”

“Where?” Ben grabbed the communicator instantly, every muscle in his body tensing, waiting to hear the news.

“We have a confirmed sighting of them last being seen on Naboo, boarding a transport to the outer rim.” Phasma replied. “It was a Resistance U-Wing, it won’t be coming back.”

“I want records of every ship  that had clearance to leave Naboo that day and their destinations, there is record of where that U-Wing went somewhere, make them talk.” Ben stated, trying to keep his anger from getting the better of him.

“Yes sir.” Phasma replied before the line went dead, his most loyal soldier carrying out his commands.

Snoke wanted Rey found to be killed, Ben wanted her found to give her another chance to join him, to show Snoke that she could help and that they could train together, that he could keep her safe. All he had to do was find Rey first, and with any luck, someone would talk to save their own skin on where that U-Wing was headed.

The last time Rey had seen her mother was when she was eight years old, she hadn’t seen her father since she was five, so naturally she fooled herself into thinking that her mother would keep her promise where her father had failed. Ben had told her not to get her hopes up, he tried to protect her from the same heartbreak he went through - but even that wasn’t enough.

As the darkness in the galaxy grew stronger, the weeks turned to months which eventually turned into years that kept Leia away. Between being a senator and being a representative for the last of the Jedi remaining while Luke was busy raising Rey and training younglings, it was almost impossible for her to actually visit her children; Han stopped trying altogether. Naturally, after all those years apart, there was a cloud of tension and guilt hanging between the two of them while they sat together for dinner in Leia’s quarters, neither of them knowing what to say.

“So,” Leia started, “how was Naboo?”

“Fine,” Rey said, “from what I could see of it. I got to see that monument they built to grandma, it’s nice.”

Padmé Amidala, perhaps one of the more famous names to come from Naboo - only to be rivaled by the dark presence that was left behind by Darth Sidious, better known as Emperor Palpatine. It was easy to see why they’d chosen to honor their fallen former queen and senator so openly while they desperately tried to erase the stain the Emperor had left behind on their small planet. Between the Organa’s and the legacy Padmé left behind, Rey understood why Leia chose to stay in politics rather than become a Jedi Master like Uncle Luke, though she still was a Knight just like Rey. Sometimes Rey thought that if she’d chosen politics as well that her parents wouldn’t have left her like they left Ben, but she couldn’t leave Ben behind, and the call of the Force was far too great for her to ignore by sitting at a desk and making speeches day in and day out.

“Glad you got to see it.” Leia offered up a smile as she looked towards Rey, Rey couldn’t find it in her to fake a smile in return.

“Ben took me there once when I was younger, to Naboo.” Rey stated, keeping her eyes on her food and feeling the mood shift back to something strained.

Leia remained silent, Rey knew it was a low blow, but it was something she couldn’t help. But Rey had seen her mother's speeches, seen how she avoided calling Kylo Ren her son and danced around the subject of what happened to Ben Organa-Solo. Every time Rey noticed that, she felt like her mother was trying to erase her brother, and she couldn’t help but feel that if she’d joined Ben, she would have tried to erase her too.

“Your father heard you and Luke we’re coming here, he’s going to come by with Chewie.” Leia tried to change the subject.

“Well, tell Chewie I’m sorry I’ll miss him.” Rey said.

“Breha, you - “

“Rey,” She corrected her mother, Rey was the nickname Ben had given her, she wasn’t going to erase him and what he had been unlike everyone else in the galaxy, “and I can choose not to see Han if I want. He abandoned Ben and I long before you did, I’d rather just see Chewie, at least he called.”

It was silent again, Rey felt she’d crossed a line somewhere, not that she cared if she did or not, but she didn’t expect the feeling of such overwhelming guilt to wash over her either. “You’re right.” Leia sighed. “If you want to just see Chewie, I’ll just tell him where you’ll be, I won’t tell your father.”

“...Thank you.” Rey hesitated saying.

The discomfort in the room kept rising and Rey knew she needed to just be anywhere else right now other than here, she knew some meditation would help clear her mind.

“Thank you for dinner, I have to go meet Uncle Luke for meditation.” Rey excused herself from the table, rising to her feet and grabbing her lightsaber off of the nearby table.

“I’ll be here if you want to talk.” Leia called after her just before Rey managed to get out the door and have them snap shut behind her.

Anywhere was better than being with her mother for another moment. She knew Luke was somewhere meditating, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to interfere with whatever shred of peace he was able to find in all of the chaos of an active rebel base. Rey needed to calm her mind as well, and so far the only place of solace she could think of would be her room - the trouble being she didn’t remember where her room was.

“Are you alright?” A man asked her, it didn’t take long for Rey to realize that it was one of the Lieutenants from earlier, though she never caught his name.

“Yeah, just lost.” Rey admitted, there was something calming about him that took the edge off of Rey’s nerves.

“Can’t say I blame you there, when I first got here I couldn’t remember where anything was.” He grinned, trying to lighten the dark mood that was still hanging over her from her dinner with her mother. “Connix said she’s got you in the west bunks, I’ll take you there.”

“Oh, thanks.” Rey said, caught off guard by his willingness to help, the galaxy could have used more people like him.

“No problem, it’s Breha, right?” He asked.

“Rey actually. Breha’s a big name to live up to, I just go by Rey.” She clarified.

“Rey, got it, nice to meet you,” He nodded, “I’m Finn.”

“Nice to meet you Finn.” Rey said.

The rest of the walk was filled with small chatter between the two of them, Finn asking question after question about what it’s like to use a lightsaber and learning the ways of the Force, claiming that he never was told any stories about the Jedi at all until he joined the Resistance. Rey asked him for directions to nearly everywhere she could think of that she might need to go to in the next few days until she learned where everything was.

“This is it.” Rey said, remembering the dings and dents that were on the front of her door and stopping short.

“Alright, well, if you ever need anything Rey, you can come find Poe or I anytime.” Finn said.

“Poe?” Rey questioned, more than sure that she’d never heard that name before now.

“Oh, right, Commander Dameron I mean, he was with us earlier when you and your uncle showed up. He’ll help you with whatever you need to.” Finn assure her.

“Good to know, thanks Finn.” Rey nodded.

“Anytime.” Finn offered her a parting grin before taking his leave.

Rey managed to remember the codes to her door at least, getting it open and letting out a sigh of relief once it was shut. Or at least she felt that brief relief for only a moment, until a familiar voice clawed it’s way into her mind, forcing a one way connection.

‘The Resistance? After all these years you ran back to her, or maybe it’s because I left you no other choice, no other place to hide. For that, I’m sorry. I wanted to protect you from them, remember? It doesn’t matter, I tracked you to Naboo, you were there, weren’t you? Someone will talk. I don’t know why you keep running from me Rey, it’d be so much easier to convince Snoke to let you join me if you stopped running. You know I’d never hurt you, don’t you? Stop fighting me, Rey, please - ‘

Rey cut him off there, not wanting to hear anymore. Her heart still ached when she cut him off, no matter how many times she’d done it before in the past years, he was her brother and their bond was stronger than most could understand, even stronger than the bond Luke and her mother shared. He could call out to her across systems and stars and still sound as if he were in the room with her; their power was more than likely the only reason Snoke wanted the both of them alive.

‘I don’t want to be found, Ben.’

It was a risk to call out to him, to give him any form of a response or acknowledgement, it was reckless - something commonly known to be in the Skywalker bloodline.

‘It sounds like you do.’

His reply came quickly, latching onto the tail end of the connection she briefly opened in order to get his reply to her. Rey pushed all traces of their connection out of her mind and balled her hands into fists, trying to tame the low rumble now echoing through her room. She hated that he was right, that somewhere deep down in the back of her mind, she did want her brother to find her.

[2centsofsilver]

8/7/17

This will be short because my melatonin is kicking in. I have officially been living in A2 since last Thursday (so, 5 days) and I don’t feel like I’m getting better emotionally. I survived my period which was just as bad as last month’s if not worse, due to suicidal thoughts and losing myself in my head. Now that I’m in A2, I’m still lost. I’m also lost physically because I don’t know my way around this town as well as I thought I did. I only live 1.5 hours a way from Kzoo, but I feel like I moved across the country. I have a few really solid close friends who I love so much. I didn’t see them very often before, but they were always still there. I don’t see them now, but why is the longing so deep in which I miss them? They haven’t gone anywhere. I didn’t move very far. I feel like I’ve been here months and it’s only been 5 days. I feel scared all the time and have been on the brink of crying the last 5 days, in parking lots. My therapist in Kzoo told me I won’t lose my need to often cry while having a roommate because she reminded me I usually do that in my car, but she also said she hoped I don’t need to cry as often anymore. She texted me a couple days ago to ask if things have gotten better, but I haven’t responded yet. People are so important to me, but how come I’m not important to them? Does anyone even care that I’m gone or lost? I fantasize about my suicide a lot. I think about... -People finding me OR surrounding me in a hospital bed -My best friends planning my funeral and contacting those who left me -Looking down on my celebration of life -Wondering whether or not dying would hurt the ones I love -Wondering whether or not they’d miss me forever, or only just at first -Wondering whether or not they truly want me to disappear -Wondering whether or not disappearing would do them a favor -Coming back to life, people having realized how much pain I’m in, and holding me really really tight I really need to find a counselor asap, but I don’t know about my insurance. It cuts off in 3 weeks and my new insurance starts then too. Therapy will only be covered if I see a U of M provider, but I feel stuck because I’m scared to drive downtown. I’m not buying a parking pass for campus, I’ll be relying on the public transit system. I don’t know how to ride a bus and I don’t have my m-Card yet. I have to get my M-card on campus, but I have to take the bus to campus, but I don’t know how to pay to ride the bus and I don’t know who can help me by trying it with me a few times. I feel like my roommate thinks I’m weird. I am trying so hard to be normal and nice. I really do feel I’m a super nice person. I haven’t created any drama. The only times I’ve talked about my depression were when I repeatedly kept not moving and staying at my parents’ house. And the other day I asked her about CAPS and finding a counselor and she was willing to talk to me. I just feel like she can see right through to how weird I am and what if she regrets choosing me? I hope I’m being impressive. I live in PT, which is SOOOO FAR from Central Campus/A2 in general. I live right on 12 which is M Ave. which leads you to 94 and 23. Don’t ask me how this road leads you to both expressways in the same direction. I get so turned around here. My perceptive map of A2 in my head is completely upsidedown. My friends Alex, Jess, Anna, Annie, Charlotte, Zach, Roopa, Andrea, Amber, Caitlyn, and Vartika all live here in A2. Specifically, Alex, Annie, Anna, Jess, Caitlyn, and Charlotte have been helping me a lot. Most closely, Alex and Anna. I don’t go to Jess very often because she doesn’t understand mental illness and it makes me feel inferior. So far I’m very sad and lonely here. I feel isolated and depressed every day. I am trying to get out of the house more and be gentle with myself. Now that my period is over, I am challenging myself to get things done on my to-do list. Today I enrolled in student health insurance, ordered contacts over the phone, contacted my employer with available hours, signed my student loan MPN, bought new gym shoes, bought a recycling bin, did laundry, showered, talked to Anna, got lost again in PT/Ypsi, online shopped for dishes/comforter/sheets/shower curtain, talked to my mom on the phone, made a to-do list, and decided I’d start at the gym this week. My roommate is so on top of life and I have depression and am barely keeping up. It’s definitely teaching me to be more organized, but I can only last so long. I need to leave my shit all over the floor sometimes, so I look forward to Wednesday when my brother brings my bed so I can just spend time in there crying and sleeping. I feel like my best friends don’t want to be friends with me anymore. Obviously, this is depression lying. I know it’s not true. What Anna doesn’t understand is that depression is NOT just literal thoughts- it’s actual feelings. I can’t say I have actual cognitive thoughts of “I want to kill myself.” It’s an overall feeling that has completely swallowed me day to day. HOW DO I ADEQUATELY DESCRIBE to my friends the deep painful twinges I feel inside my stomach? They get those too right? People know the feeling? Why do I want people to know so badly? I always feel like.. if people knew they could help me. Or love me a little harder. It all comes back to filling of that void I talked about in the “Getting High” post. To my best friends- I feel like I’m going to lose you. I’m sorry that I’m not doing well. I just don’t know what to do. I don’t know who to turn to or what to DO. I feel a real urgency to get help and ACT every time I feel pulled under. I’m sorry that I’ve needed you so much in my short time here so far. I feel like you’re getting annoyed with me. I don’t know if that’s a depression lie or not. A2 is a place I used to like. I used to envision myself thriving here by partaking in progressive social movements and being myself. But I envisioned living in Kerrytown and making friends with ‘certain type of people.’ I don’t know what I did wrong, but I tried really hard to find a roommate and place to live. I didn’t fail, right?  Why do I feel like I made the wrong decision and got stuck here out of force and like that day came before I even knew what was happening? I don’t feel I’m on top of it enough to be successful in a Masters program. My depression is too severe. My period is over and it hasn’t gotten better. I really need to see a counselor asap. I don’t like A2 anymore because it’s SO associated with negative memories: Holly, NR (2 entities that hurt me), ABA, no Lake Michigan, and bustling Detroit traffic that makes me feel industrialized when I know I’m pure. I’m hungry all the time and feel like I’m trying to thrive in WHITE SPACE, like the background in “Harold & The Purple Crayon.” My roommate is so clean and organized and a responsible, functioning adult. I feel weird sprawling out on this couch, like I’m not allowed to or like it’s not appropriate or something. She owns every kitchen utensil in the world and knows how to use all of them. I eat icecream for lunch and pretzels for dinner. On the one hand, isn’t it healthy (if someone didn’t know me at all) that I’m seeking help as someone with severe depression?  Yesterday one of my good friends asked me, “Hey, have you ever considered that maybe you have a mood disorder?” YES- I have been 100% professionally diagnosed with Bipolar II and I take mood stabilizers. I know she meant well though. At this exact moment, I hate myself for being so self-consumed when writing about myself and talking to others. I remember back in the day, I was only wrapped up in the lives of others- helping others, being there for others. THAT’S STILL ME.  I already envision myself taking an academic, medical leave of absence for suicidal depression. Birth control cures PMDD, but causes blood clots, which kill you. So I have to just keep wanting to kill myself, in order to survive. Makes sense right? I miss my grandma and frequently wonder whether she thinks I’d be happy in Heaven.  I broke out in Hives a few weeks ago and my Dermatillomania has been like, the worst it’s ever been and my roommate wants to play tennis with me and I don’t know how to handle that. I feel like people who pull their hair and wear hats or draping clothes to hide their cuts or whatever. It’s all the same. I am NOT ready to start school in 3 weeks. I would feel more ready if I could sit down with an academic advisor, knew how to pay my tuition, knew how my loan works, knew where to go for orientation, knew were my classes and building were, knew how to ride the bus, had someone to go to the potluck with, etc etc. Maybe Alex would be willing to explore with me this week/weekend. Only 2 more nights of sleeping on a deflated air mattress. I’m sorry to the people I love for being a burden. Is it okay I love you? Is it okay you’re my best friends? Are these things okay with you? Dear Katie, Keep being strong. Your real self loves you, that’s me. I’m rooting for you all day every day. I’m who gets you out of bed each day. I’m who believes in you. I’m who responds to you when you ask mental questions. I’m the rational voice. I’m your comfort. I’m your immediate response when sometimes people can’t respond right away. Dear Katie, You are the strongest girl alive. You constantly do things every day that are hard and you always try and find something to smile or laugh about. Little things add up, such as the cashier at Whole Foods and the guy at Dunham;s too and the girl in front of you at Blaze Pizza today.  Dear Katie, I know things are hard and you want to die. But no you don’t. You want this pain to go away. You want to escape being a burden to others. I know it FEELS like you’re being annoying, but the people you feel you’re annoying are still here. I know you always think they’re always considering abandoning you. I know you feel you’re worth nothing in this world. But you are the whole world. You make your dreams happen. You believe other people are capable of achieving their dreams, too. Dear Katie, I love you with all my heart. Thank you for always listening to me and following me as your heart. I know things are hard for you all the time, but your will power sings songs of hope and compassion. You want to make this world a better place, but you are that better place, in this world. Dear Katie, Your friends and I love you very much. Keep holding on and love yourself. You are doing no wrong in desiring support. Your desperation will be addressed soon by someone who can help you. You got into the best school in the country and you made this happen; it didn’t happen accidentally. Dear Katie, Re-create yourself. You are the power of the universe. You have stars within you. Mrs. Urban is sending you these stars. Grandma is sending you smiles. The others in the sky are watching eagerly to watch your accomplishments flourish. Dear Self, Just keep going.  Love, Your Guiding Angel