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tomboyneedshercoffee · 4 years

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Met Gala || Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Y/N and Peter go on a mission to capture Harry Osborn at one of the most heavily guarded places; the Met Gala.

Word Count: 2k

Author’s note: I watched Ocean’s 8 and Hoco back to back and thus, this fic was born.

Warning: Fighting?? Creepy dude??? IDK man a busted lip?

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When you were recruited for SHIELD, you knew you would be needed to fight alongside the avengers or workaround in the advanced lab in the Helicarier but never in a million years did you think Fury would send you and Peter Parker on a mission to infiltrate the Met Gala. Celebrities you stalked all day on twitter were now inches from you, wearing gorgeous ensembles from famous designers you could never pronounce and you were hardcore fangirling.

You tried to keep in your excitement as you looked across the room, seeing your favorite actors and influencers all mingling together without a care in the world. You were breathing the same air as Beyonce and Harry Styles, dear god, life felt great. Little did they know, this event had been hijacked by New York’s charming new villain, Harry Osbourn. Your mission with Peter was simple; find Harry and take him back to SHIELD’s headquarters for questioning without causing a mass distraction.

As you reached for a crystalized champagne glass off of one of the server’s silver platter, you hear a tsk sound off in your hidden earpiece inside your earrings.

“ Drinking on the job,” Peter clicked his tongue as he looked behind his shoulder, scouting you from across the ballroom,” your mother would be so disappointed.”

You smiled and took a small sip, taking in the room,” I’m blending in Parker. You should do the same. As for my mom, I’m in the same room as Idris Elba so I think she’ll be more jealous than upset.”

You took a quick glance towards Peter, who was sitting at a vacant table. He wore a black suit with a thin gold and blush material lined thinly along either side of the opening of his suit jacket. The inside of the suit was a simple white button-up that had no buttons at the top, revealing a bit of his chest.

While it was the Met Gala and you were excited to see what kind of flashy SHIELD had managed to get, they went the opposite. They gave you a black, long sleeve gown with a delicate lace pattern towards the bottom of your dress. Even though it was already out of your comfort zone from how fitting it was, the dress had a deep V cut on your chest that gave little to the imagination. While the dress was flattering, you knew you could’ve settled for your old prom dress when you heard that the gown you were wearing was two times the price of your apartment.

“ My little Peter Parker looks like he’s going to a Las Vegas communion,” you teased as you gave him a distant longing look,” but you look nice. You should wear suits more often, maybe then you could get a girlfriend.”

“ Ouch, Y/N,” Peter laughed, even though his heart stung a bit,” just because you look like that doesn’t mean you can go around breaking my heart.”

Even though Peter couldn’t see you from where you were, you still felt your cheeks to see if it was noticeable that you were blushing hard. Ever since sophomore year in high school, you had always hopelessly flirted with Peter but his attention was always Spiderman this and Spiderman that. It wasn’t until your senior year that you both would flirt with each other shamelessly yet that made things even harder for you. Now you weren’t sure if he was just joking or actually flirting with you and you could only blame yourself.

“ Keep your eyes open for Harry, not me,” You said as you finished your champagne glass and set it down at a table,” but I like the attention so you may continue flirting with me after we’re done with our mission.”

You heard Peter gasp loudly followed by silence which made your heart stop.

“ Peter? Peter do you have eyes on Harry?”

“ No! I think Blake Lively is about to come up and talk to me, bye!”

You craned your neck and sure enough, you picked Peter out of the crowd and saw the goddess herself sitting next to him smiling. Lucky bastard. You kept your eyes glued to Peter as you collided with someone.

“ Woah watch yourself there,” You heard as you felt your anxiety raise through the roof. Please don’t let it be Pedro Pascal, please. I would die from embarrassment if I just bumped into the Mandalorian, Pedro Pascal, himself.

You apologized but when you hesitantly looked up, hoping it wasn’t a famous celebrity you had obsessed over, your heart dropped. Harry Osborn.

“I’m sorry but do I know you?” Harry asked as you thought quickly of what to do,” I swear you look familiar.”

You weren’t prepared to see him so soon, your plan of attack was to find him not for him to find you. You snapped yourself out of it and focused on what you knew best, flirting.

“ No, you don’t. Trust me, you would remember a face like mine,” you said smoothly, feeling your confidence boost from the energy of the night and most likely the dress.

Harry smirked,” I like you already. I’m Harry, Harry Osborn.”

Oh you knew. You knew everything about him from the countless files that SHIELD had provided you. His estranged father was Norman Osborn and is the president of Oscorp, one of the leading multinational corporations in the US. Harry was around the same height as Peter, standing at 5' 10, weighing 170 pounds, and had dark blue eyes that held more than just a charming sparkle. You knew how he liked his coffee, why he hated Halloween, where he vacationed when he was in grade school, and when he lost his virginity. Knowing how much intel SHIELD had on Harry was not only scary for him, but for you since who knows about dirt Fury had one you aswell.

“ Michelle Jones,” you said on the spot, not wanting him to know your real name. He reached for you hand to shake but instead, placed a soft kiss on your knuckles.

You smiled politely even though you mentally rolled your eyes. You just needed to get him somewhere private so you could take him out with the tranquilizer that Peter had in his pocket.

“ So Harry, what brings you to the Met? You must be pretty influential to get an invite,” you said as you started walking away from your spot, knowing that there was an exit behind the staircase and that Harry would follow you.

“ I would call myself an entrepreneur, I dabble in some tech companies here and there. Just changing the world one robot at a time,” Harry shrugged as he followed next to you, taking the bait,” I bet you’re probably into something along the lines of modeling.”

You couldn’t help yourself but to let out a lousy laugh as he held a set of double doors open for you, leaving an empty hallway,” That’s cute but no, I’m one of the leading programmers at Stark Industries. But sure, I guess I’m just a pretty face too.”

“ Brains, beauty, and an attitude? Well today’s my lucky day then,” he flirted as he placed his hand on your lower back, leaning in close to your ear,” let’s get out of here yeah?”

You almost showed your visibly disgusted expression on your face but you hide it well underneath a sweet smile,“ I admire your boldness and while I am very flattered, I have a boyfriend. I think he would actually love to meet you, let me just go find him.”

“ Y/N, there you are,” Peter’s voice piped behind you as you watched his face fall for a second and then recover,” who’s your friend?”

Your smile faltered,“ R-Right, this is Harry Osborn, Harry, this is my boyfriend...Ned.”

Peter shook Harry’s hand as Peter tried to hide a grin from the fake name,” Nice to meet you, Harry.”

Harry nodded and looked between you two as Peter placed his arm around your hip, bringing you closer,” Well Ned, you’re a lucky man. She’s very smart and might I say very beautiful.”

Peter clenched his jaw as Harry looked you up and down longingly as if he could see straight through your gown. You felt Peter’s grip on your waist tighten but he knew that he had to stay calm so he didn’t compromise the mission.

“ Yes, Y/N is the whole package,” Peter said a bit more confidently as he gave you a small kiss on the cheek,” aren’t you baby?”

Before you could open your mouth, Harry interrupted and took a step forward,” That’s funny, she told me her name was Michelle.”

Peter looked back at your face and while you were now panicking on the inside, you only nodded in response,” Michelle Y/N Jones. Only my close friends call me Y/N.”

“ Really? You know, now that I’m really thinking about it,” Harry looked between you two and pointed at Peter,” you look like a...Peter Parker. And you, Look like a Y/N L/N. Which is funny because I know two people who work for SHIELD who are allegedly after me. Funny huh?”

Your breath hitched and without thinking, Peter lunged at Harry and the two wrestled to the floor. You watched as the two struggled on top of one another before Harry got the upper hand, giving him a few good punches before he started to choke him.

You looked at the cart next to you and grabbed a bottle of Champagne before slamming it over Harry’s head. In an instant, Harry slumped over on top of Peter who breathed a sigh of relief.

“ D-Did I kill him?” You asked as you dropped whatever was still intact of the bottle.

Peter shook his head, taking in your appearance. While you didn’t have any physical marks on you, your hair that was neatly tucked into a bun was now loose and all over the place.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” Peter asked as he moved your hair out of your face, his lip was definitely busted,”Y/N I am so sorry about blowing your cover and I’m sorry that you-”

You leaned over towards Peter and planted a light kiss to his cheek, which made him instantly turn red. You didn’t know what came over you but the damage was done, now you just had to get out of here.

“ Less talking and more lifting,” you said softly as you both looked down at Harry who was very much unconscious,” The car is waiting downstairs for us so I’ll grab his legs and you grab his arms?”

“ I can carry him myself,” Peter said and you knew he could because of his ‘super strength’ but you shook your head and insisted over a hundred times that you were a strong, capable woman.

Peter took one last longing look at you since his face couldn’t get any redder and nodded as the two of you both lifted Harry down the private staircase. The two of you said nothing, only sharing an occasional groan as you used most of your strength.

“ So what, are we dating now?” Peter asked as he accidentally bumped Henry’s head against the railing.

You huffed and stepped carefully, not wanting to trip over your dress,” I know I drank like three glasses of champagne but I would definitely remember if I asked you out, Parker.”

“ Well you introduced me to Harry as your boyfriend.”

You stopped moving and placed Harry down on the stairs, your muscles that you hardly ever worked on were already aching. You placed your hands on your hips and shook your head,” Okay well, I technically said you were Ned so that means Ned is my boyfriend.”

You swallowed and looked up at Peter,” But if this is your attempt at trying to ask me out then yes, I will go out with you...only if you carry Harry the rest of the way.”

Peter hid his huge grin and only shrugged plainly, even though he wanted to jump out of excitement,” Fine by me.”

You watched as Peter lifted Harry with ease as if he weighed absolutely nothing.

“Show off,” you said as Peter smirked, knowing that he could get used to this.

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urmomification · 3 years

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SWAG ANOTHER DREAM SMP AU FIC IDEA THAT ILL NEVER WRITE POG

this is a very long post please im so sorry my brain it just

(tw for like slight possession n shit)

(sorry its all jumbled i write all of these in discord to my friend and copy paste them here please if u have questions ask me im always willing to talk abt this shit please it haunts me)

(context: i saw a tiktok abt the hc that both dream and techno are gods of some sort bc theyre mentioned in the tales of the smp by karl a time traveller and my brain just ran w it)

going back to the techno and dream are gods thing right so dream is a vessel for the god dream xd (??? work in progress youll know what im talking about at some point its really funny tho uve def seen clips of it) and he was possessed?? by the god after the server started (when he started going from super friendly with everyone to control/power hungry) when he started sacrificing everything for power so no one could have power over him? that was the god making him do it bc the god was terrified of not being in control since theyd lost it all to techno in their past. thats why we never see dream and techno fight and why we see dream extend help and support to him at times as well as respecting his boundaries and such bc theyre scared of techno (again w the best of 10 duel reference, techno killed the god in a past life which is why the god has been forced to use a human vessel to get anything done on the mortal plane) but when something that powerful spends pretty much any amount of time in something mortal and mundane like a person, the host body starts to change (hence the mask) i like to think that the god would be akin to that of a biblically correct angel?? like the ones w multiple eyes n shit yk so after time things start to happen to normal dreams body he gets extra sets of eyes and he gets taller and overall his body seems just Too Small for whatevers inside of him and thats why he (hc) started wearing the mask in the first place he knew something was wrong w him but he didnt want anyone to know even tho they would most likely help him he was ashamed that he was different in the first place so he started wearing the mask once the other eyes showed up. and i think that the god would talk to dream similarly to how technos voices work yk? except its just the one voice instead of many many small ones. and again with the mask thing when he lost to tommy and they took him in, part of his mask broke to the point where u could see just a bit of the right side of his face but enough to see that it Wasnt Right there were two eyes where there shouldve been one and spots on his cheeks bright enough to resemble stars and where the color of his pupil should have been is just a sickeningly neon green with nothing else behind it. so they let him keep the mask even tho they already know something is wrong but it clearly makes him Very Distressed when asked to remove the mask or told to give it up. blah blah blah god harassing its host bc it got them caught and thrown in a prison and dream goes ever so slightly insane having to share a mind and body with a literal ancient god w a vendetta against everything hes built whos forced him to sacrifice everything he loved and cared for out of fear yk the usual prison shit and then techno comes a long and breaks him out or whatever but on their way back to his house he drops a really cryptic line abt how 'its nice to see an old friend again' and 'i thought i got rid of u for good last time' and dream is just ???? what are u talking about?? weve never been friends and youve never gotten rid of me? what. until techno spins around and just 'im not talking to you im talking to the thing inside u' or whatever and dreams eyes flash some brilliant gold or sumn and boom this is ur fellow god speaking how may i help you and dream xd (that feels so wrong to say but) and techno bond or well ig just talk abt how the past centuries have gone and ig while xd is fronting (??? i think itd kinda be like DID in a sense w multiple people being able to front yk?) dream is in a sort of semi conscious state but still hears everything going on around his own body until hes thrown back into the drivers seat (i think that xd would only be able to front for short periods of time due to the vessel n shit that makes sense right) and hes so confused someone please help him hes just a dude who happened to get possessed by a god someone help him so when they finally get back to technos house he sits dream down and explains the best he can without literally melting dreams brain. which would also play into the 'technoblade never dies' bc hes. literally a god. mortals cant kill him unless they have idk some sort of super weapon idk and blah blah blah xd gets what they want and finally has the ability to leave finally leaving dream literally the shell of a man with no home friends materials or anything with techno to basically take care of him until he reaches some semblance of stability again (which would take ages, realistically (wdym realistically) going from normal, to a god sharing a body with you and speaking in you brain living as a single being together and hearing their thoughts, to back to normal but with all the memories of what you did and what they made you do and also no more god speaking in ur head it would take a hot sec to recover from) so he lives with techno (whos, not to mention, another god) for a while until he can fend for himself again and after a good year or so passes and no one hears from dream they start to look for him and see what happened bc he went from the biggest threat on the server to just. gone. no one knows where he went after whatever he did and they want closure. is he dead?? who knows. so george and sap set out looking for him and decide to ask techno for help since hes good w directions n shit also he was the last person to see dream alive so he might have an idea of where he is and they walk up to his house and knock on his door and techno opens it and just stares at them he knows who they are, dreams talked about them before but hes never met them really so he talks to them, getting through the polite hellos how are yous before sap finally asks 'do you know what happened to dream? no one knows where he went and we just want closure' techno huffs and tells them to wait there he (this is the basement door im using his arctic tundra house in my head) goes down the ladder to the second basement, they can hear him talking to multiple people (ranboo phil dream) but cant tell who everyone is before coming back up the ladder, back to the door. he tells them to wait outside he needs to get something first (its dream hes getting dream) theyre standing out by carls stable when the door creaks open and dream steps out looking around for who the fuck could possibly be looking for them he betrayed everyone and most people thought he was dead who could possibly be here asking for himself and not ranboo or philza and when he steps out, his green hoodie (memento made by ranboo to help him cope w the loss of the voice in his head) catching the morning light off the snow and he was happy and then he saw them standing by the house hed grown to call home at least for now he breaks. he missed them so so much it hurt. he never expected to see them ever again much less them come looking to see him but hes scared he realizes he doesnt know what to say there is nothing to say he fucked them all over he ruined everything and then hes being hugged. they missed him too. they dont forgive him jsut yet but they missed him and thats enough for him right now. the three of them stand there just being in each others presences and techno creaks the door open to make sure they arent trying to kill each other and sighs and leans against the frame smiling. hes happy again and thats the best he can do for him. he invites them all in and offers to explain everything to them to try and ease the blame off of dream bc in all honesty it was his fault but xd made it far far worse that it should have been (a bit late but foot note abt xd i think that they would be an idle god until someone w intense feelings of powerlessness and insecurity like awoke them from their techno induced slumber and inhabited dream to help him fulfill his desires for power and control) and by the time he and dream are finished its late at night and sap and george are ??? so u were possessed by a god who techno killed centuries ago in a duel and it amplified ur feelings of insecurity and ur thirst for control to the point of isolating urself from us and destroying everything everyone cared abt?? also technos an ancient god who lusts for bloodshed but also makes turtle farms in his free time?? are we getting this right????? and techno and dream are just yea thats abt it glad this all made sense then they all go to bed (its a small house dream has a lil shack like ranboos and sap and george somehow slept over there for the night) and in the morning sap and george leave again but promise to come back, they still arent ready to forgive and forget bc even tho it wasnt all his fault his emotions getting away from him is what caused this all in the first place so they do need time to process now that they know he isnt dead and dream continues to live near techno in almost full independence and eventually moves back with his friends even tho many still hate him. hes happy and for now thats enough. another foot note; even after xd leaves his being, he still has the extra eyes, glowy freckles n is xtra tall n shit that cant just be reversed but now that hes himself again these things take their tolls on human bodies so i think hed have something at least similar to arthritis bc of how his bones were literally manipulated bc of how strong ethereal magic or whatever is. so he would still wear the broken mask but he takes it off now and is ok with it being off hes working on getting better now that hes himself again and everyone living w/by techno is helping him with that. also i think that he would get blinks of xd's memories like from when techno was killing them and have sumn like ptsd panic attacks from it and techno feels super guilty abt it but theres literally nothing he can do except apologize and after the first few times dream stopped him from apologizing bc it is his fault but he didnt do it to him so it doesnt matter to dream at least and they live in pretty much harmony until dream finally moves back in w george and sap the end. he also started wearing the mask in the first place bc of the extra eyes but he played it off as being uncomfortable around new people and not wanting them to know what he looked like until he trusted them (bc that literally makes sense irl how funky is that) so sap and george never pushed him and when they caught him without it on on the rare occasion they wouldnt pressure him to leave it off or anything even tho they already knew what he looked like (when they respect ur boundaries </3) they just assumed that it was insecurity (it was but also mans had like 3 eyes so) and just left him alone

#dream smp #long post under cut #dream mcyt #technoblade #dream xd #i love dream xd their concept is literally so fucking funny to me #this idea hit me like a train at 11pm and i wrote from 12:04am to 1:02am scribbling this down in dms on discord to my friend whos asleep #fic au idea #i should start a whole tag of that wanna bet how many posts would be there #edit: there are #2064 words and #10582 characters under the cut #what the fuck #is we fuckin doin

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rueitae · 5 years

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Trembling

Read my whumptober collection on Ao3

blood, hostage situation, angst with happy ending, set post series, some post series politics

~~~~~

“Pidge, be rational about this! Please!”

Snap. Crackle. Her bayard slices through another Galra sentry. She continues her run down the dark metal hallways illuminated by magenta light.

“Pidge,” Hunk pleads through the comm. “Wait, like, five doboshes and we will be there!”

Static.

“ … you’re already inside the base aren’t you?

“No time to talk, Hunk. Lance is here and I am not letting our daughter grow up without her father. Run extraction subroutine delta - there’s more sentries here than I thought.”

“Dude, you are going to make my anxiety flare up. Fine, I’ll run it, but I will beat you to the command deck. Go get Lance.”

Pidge allows herself a small smile as she runs around the corner and it's clear of sentries. Finally, the prison section. “Thanks for having my back, Hunk. Hanger five is open and ready for you.”

Throwing her arm back for extra power, Pidge slams the business end of her bayard at the control panel. No time for hacking today.

“You’ll surrender the Central Bank codes to me if you wish for the former Paladin to live after the twenty-four varga deadline.”

Knowing Lance was being held hostage made her angry. Seeing him unconscious on the floor, bruised, bloody, and twitching during the ransom video had sent her into a rage fueled mission that had brought her directly to the base after hacking some choice servers.

The bayard shakes with rage in her hand as she opens cell after cell…

“Lance?” she whispers in horror.

He sits slumped to his side, hanging by chains around his wrists. In the dim light, Pidge can see he breathes softly and all at once she lets out a sigh of relief.

She slides to his side and cuts the chains, prompting him to fall on her.

Pidge lets out a humorless laugh despite the tears that fall from her eyes. “I always wanted you to fall into my arms,” she teases before she bites her lip, the only act that prevents her from sobbing. “Just not like this. Please be okay, Lance. The others are coming, I’ve got you. You’re safe, I promise.”

She holds him close, but shakes in fear even as she whispers her reassurances. In her mind she knows she probably can’t take on a large number of sentries from this position, but her heart wants to tear them all to shreds for what they’ve done to Lance.

They come sooner than she expected. When she hears the clanking footsteps approach, she lays Lance gently down upon his back, a far more comfortable position than she’d found him in. She gives him a soft kiss on the forehead, a promise to return. By the time the sentries arrive, Pidge is there to meet them in the hallway, protecting the entrance to Lance’s cell.

She holds up the green bayard, crackling with electricity, daring them to come at her.

“You’re not hurting him anymore!” Pidge declares, shifting her footing in preparation to attack.

The battle is a blur. Wires spill from the sentries as she slices them open one after the other, fueled by a rage she hasn’t felt since reality itself was at stake. The muscles in her striking arm burn more with each swing and upper-cut.

Until she sees red.

It feels different than the mechanical sentries - her bayard encounters a softness that isn’t wire, but rather gut. Pidge raises her gaze to see the pirate responsible for the ransom call, and Lance’s imprisonment in the first place.

The one who was planning on killing him.

Pidge growls and twists her bayard further into his midsection. His shocked eyes grow wider, open mouth gaping but emitting no sound.

“Why did you do it?” Pidge seethes. “You have peace. You have stability. Why?”

The Galra pirate grins wickedly, unmoving, but voice considerably weaker than it had been on the video. “There are those of us who will never accept anything less than the return to glory of the Galra Empire. You Paladins are weak leaders. Your peace will fall with your deaths and crumble into obscurity.

“Everything you’ve worked for is for naught. Your children will be forced to pick up arms simply because of their parentage, made a rallying cry and figureheads for groups who don’t even have their best interests at heart. They have no future. Death would be a kind--”

Pidge doesn’t let him finish, twisting her bayard and ripping it out. He falls to the floor with his final breath.

The green bayard clinks against the metal floor soon after. Pidge breathes heavy and deliberately, hitching as her brain tries to recover, tries to forget the future he’d just described. But Pidge’s curiosity is her downfall, and already a half dozen fates that her daughter may face race across her mind.

She drops to her knees, holding her trembling hands to her chest. A traitorous thought scrolls above all other thoughts - what if he’s right? Are they weak leaders? Are they doing the greatest good for the universe?

“P-pidge?”

Though weak, Lance’s voice breaks Pidge from her doubts. He stands at the threshold of his cell, slumped against the doorframe and clutching his side. His eyes are bloodshot, one of them black and blue, but they still shine with concern for her.

“Lance,” she exhales as if out of breath. In a moment she’s to his side, helping him to the ground. “Don’t aggravate your wounds. Hunk and Keith should be landing about now, we’re getting you home.”

Dropping his head onto her shoulder, he closes his eyes and grins like a goofball. “Good. I made a promise to be at the birthday party.”

“The birthday…” Pidge gapes incredulously, but can’t help but smile with happy tears in her eyes. Their daughter was only three years old, she would hardly remember if Lance was there or not.

But it was important to him. And her too, really.

With that, all Pidge’s worries of the future melt away. She’d do everything in her power to prepare for any eventuality so her children won’t have to.

They have plenty of friends and allies to help.

She wasn’t alone this time, not like she was when she entered the Galaxy Garrison under a false identity to find her brother and father. Lance is here too, alive, and has already proved to be an amazing father and leader and partner in all things.

“Woah, there’s enough sentries here to make coffee tables for everyone at the Garrison.”

Hunk stands before them, bayard at the ready, blinking in amazement. He blanches upon seeing Lance, but Pidge gives him a thumbs up and what she hopes is an encouraging smile. He returns the gesture.

“I’m going to check the other cells, make sure there aren’t any other prisoners,” he says.

His words, and Lance’s sentiments put her at ease. With hearts and minds focused on others, surely her preparations will never be needed.

But she’s still going to make them. Once can never be too prepared.

#plance #whumptober2019 #no.20 #trembling #voltron legendary defender #vld fanfic #rueitae #blood #hostage situation #rescue mission

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spaceiplier · 5 years

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Not Alone

Sean twisted the screwdriver lazily in between his fingers, watching the tiny screw go in and out. And in. And out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Normally, he’d be thrilled to have time to work on whatever scrap he had lying around his workshop. Getting his hands greasy and maybe making a few things explode were what got Sean out of bed in the morning. It was fun, and it put credits in his pockets. It helped him clear his head.

Sean chucked the screwdriver at the far wall and watched it bounce off and disappear from his line of sight behind the workbench.

He just wasn’t motivated. Nothing felt exciting anymore. He kept finding his thoughts wandering to the docking bay of the Barrel, staring at Mark’s pained expression. Or glaring down at the Barrel crew, watching them flinch back as he demanded they never call him ‘Sean’ again. Once or twice, he’d found himself reminiscing on the past Scarlix Day’s, and the feeling of the weight leaving his chest when he heard his friends- no, his family- calling him by his real name.

But that was over now. He was just ‘Jack’ again. Just lonely Jack, building robots for company and hoping every day that he didn’t break something else. He was all by himself because he’d fucked up. They’d put their trust in him, and he’d let them down. They hated him now, and it wasn’t even ANTI’s fault. It was just Sean’s. Just Jack’s.

Sean was startled out of his thoughts by a gentle knock on the workshop door frame. Chase hung just inside the workshop, and stepped inside when Sean looked over at him. He smiled slightly, and held his cap in his hands, like he usually did when he was nervous.

“What’s up, dude?” Sean asked, leaning back in his chair and smiling back at Chase. His voice was hoarse, though whether it was from lack of use or from crying, he wasn’t sure.

“JJ wanted me to tell you dinner’s ready,” Chase replied, lingering nearer to the door. “You- you okay, Sean?”

Sean flinched internally. Chase only called him ‘Sean’ if he was really worried about him. Otherwise it was just ‘dude’ or ‘bro.’ “I’m good, Chase,” Sean reassured him, pushing his chair away from the workbench and standing up. Sam followed close behind, but hovered around Chase as Sean walked past. “You guys coming?” Sean teased. Chase nodded quickly and tossed his cap back on his head before following a few paces behind Sean.

“It looks incredible, JJ,” Sean said quietly, smiling up at the robot. JJ bounced eagerly, and pushed the plate a little closer to Sean, helpfully scooping a portion of the warm roast onto a fork. It truly did look delicious, but Sean almost felt like he’d vomit if he took a single bite.

“Eat!” JJ signed quickly. It wasn’t aggressive, like JJ’s signs usually were when Sean refused to eat. Instead it was anxious, and JJ’s ears were pressed back against his head. “Please?”

Sean picked up the fork and looked the small bite over, catching a glimpse of JJ bouncing excitedly in his peripheral. Sean sighed, set down the fork, and pushed the plate away. JJ stopped bouncing, and his shoulders sagged.

“Sorry, dude,” Sean sighed, smiling apologetically up at his care robot. “Maybe later.”

JJ nodded sadly and picked up the plate, dumping its contents unceremoniously into the disposal bin. The fridge was already too full of half-finished meals and reheatable dinners to fit another one.

Sean was about to leave the kitchen when a hand on his shoulder stopped him and turned him around.

“Call Robin,” JJ signed hopefully. “I- we think it will be good for you.”

Sean didn’t need to ask who ‘we’ was referring to. He’d heard his crew whispering to each other, quiet enough that he couldn’t hear what they were saying. He didn’t need to hear, though, to be able to see how concerned they all were. Sean had tanked since his last correspondence with the Barrel. He hardly ate, only slept when he couldn’t stay awake any longer, and spent most days staring blankly at scraps of metal.

Still, maybe calling Robin wouldn’t be a bad idea. Sean hadn’t even thought about Robin, let alone thought to talk to him.

“I’ll- I’ll go do that,” Sean said hesitantly. JJ took one of Sean’s hands and squeezed it tight before letting go and gently nudging him away. Sean gave JJ a smile and wave before turning and heading off to the cockpit.

Sean let the line ring a few times before hurriedly pressing the off button and sliding his chair away from the dash. He wanted to call Robin like he’d promised he would, but so far he’d just been sitting in the cockpit staring at the dash for half an hour or so. Sean eyed the dash warily. JJ was right. He needed to call Robin. Tell him what had happened. Get a second opinion. Maybe he could get Robin to talk to the Barrel. They’d listen to Robin. But then they’d tell him their side of the story. What if Robin got mad at him too, and then what would Sean do? He’d be left with no real friends, and he didn’t want to think about that.

Sean nodded slowly. He’d talk to Robin some other time. He wouldn’t have to tell him about what had happened. He could just pretend that everything was fine, just like he always did. Robin hardly called the Barrel unless it was an emergency, so he wouldn’t have to worry about Robin—

Sean nearly fell out of his seat as the dash began ringing, indicating an incoming call. He flinched as he read the name, and plastered on a smile as he answered the call.

Robin’s face flickered onto the screen, his pixelated edges soft.

“Hey, Sean,” Robin greeted cheerfully. “Did you need something?”

Sean shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “No, I just- I figured it out,” he said, trying not to betray his inner turmoil. “I’m fine.”

Robin raised an eyebrow, and Sean almost died. He knew that look. That look that meant Robin knew something was up, and he wasn’t going to let up until Sean told him what was wrong.

“It’s been a while since you called,” Robin said slowly, leaning forward slightly. “How’s everything been?”

“It’s fine,” Sean answered quickly. “I’m fine. ANTI took over for a bit, that’s all. I just needed some time to recover, y’know? It’s all good. Everyone’s taking care of me.”

“That’s really soon,” Robin pointed out, brows furrowing with concern. “Last time you called, ANTI had just left.” Sean flinched internally. ANTI taking over hadn’t been a lie, but he should have known that Robin would pick up on the inconsistency. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“I got in a bit of a scrap,” Sean lied. “Nothing Jackie and I couldn’t handle, but ANTI was feeling antsy since he didn’t get to participate, so I let him loose for a bit. Guess he got a little carried away…” Sean’s voice trailed off in an awkward chuckle. He could never keep up lies around Robin. He always found out.

Robin let out a tired sigh, a ripple of pixels running down his form. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine,” he said gently. “I won’t make you.” He gave Sean a kind smile, and Sean felt tears threatening to form in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” Sean insisted, watching Robin’s smile fall.

“I’m not going to get mad at you.” Robin forced eye contact with Sean.

“You promise?”

“On my life.”

“I- okay. Well, I did get into a fight,” Sean began, looking down at his hands. “Not a fist fight or anything though. A- an argument.” Sean felt something press against the back of his mind, but it was more of a reassuring feeling, like a gentle shoulder squeeze. “About the drive.”

“They didn’t take it well, I’m guessing?”

Sean shook his head, scales rippling as he forced back tears. “They wouldn’t even let me show them. They just accused me of trying to get them to not work with the GAAP just because I’m Velm. I told them I’d gone to the servers, and then it was all downhill from there. They wouldn’t listen to me, so I gave Marzia the drive and left.”

“Is that when…?”

Sean nodded. “I went to the safe room as soon as I got on my ship,” he half-mumbled. “I didn’t want ANTI to hurt my crew.”

“Have you tried talking to them since?” Robin asked after a minute passed in silence.

“They called me a couple weeks ago. A week after I tried to show them the drive,” Sean huffed, avoiding making eye contact with Robin. “I tried to ignore it, but they kept calling. I- I was angry, and I wasn’t thinking straight. I think ANTI picked up the call more than I did.”

Robin looked like he wanted to say something, but when he didn’t, Sean kept talking.

“They- Mark- said they wanted to apologize,” Sean continued, feeling the same rage bubbling up in him again. “But they didn’t. They just wanted to tell me I was wrong.” Sean bowed his head and he clenched his teeth as ANTI slid into control.

“Sean?” Robin asked hesitantly, worry edging his voice.

ANTI shook his head stiffly, taking in a few deep, slow breaths.

“ANTI.” It wasn’t a question. Robin sounded almost surprised.

“R̸ob̷in̕,̧”̵ ANTI said, rolling his shoulders a few times as he looked up at the screen, which had a few glitches dancing around its edge.

“What brings you here?” Robin’s question was tense now, and he had slid his chair away from the screen slightly.

ANTI huffed and squinted at the screen. “̸I̷’m̢ ̛not go̸in͞g̡ to tr̶y ̸and̛ hu͏rt̡ y̷ou͘,͞” ANTI said, slumping back in the chair and drumming his fingers on its arms. He glanced around the room quickly before looking back up at Robin. “I͜’m ͘nơt stu̴p̛i͘d. ̶I ҉j͠u̵s͠t wa͏nt t͏o̕ talk͜.͠”

Robin scooted forward, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “You… want to talk? Why now?”

“̴S͜e̵e͡m̕e͝d̢ l̀i̧ke͏ ̵a̷s̴ g͢oo̸d ̛ą ͡t̛ime̛ a̵s̀ any,” ANTI grumbled, crossing and uncrossing his arms, apparently unsure of what to do with them. He settled on shoving them in his pockets. “I̡ ̛c͏a̕n ̢ģo if͡ ̕y̨òu ͏w͠an̨t m͏e͘ ҉to. Won’t̢ ̷gèt a̵s ͟s͞tr͝a͠i͡gḩt̷ o͞f̛ a͡n̴şwer͜s f̵ro̴m͞ Sean̡, th̛ou͏gh͢.̨ ̨Es̕pe̶ciàl̛l͘ỳ sin҉c̵e ̨he ḱe̴ép͠s̵ ͞ly̢in͞g ̸to ̕yo͟u̷.”͝

“You- you can stay,” Robin said quickly. “I’m just surprised is all. You’ve never wanted to talk before.” Last time Robin had seen ANTI, the AI had deleted him from Sean’s memory. From what Robin had heard, ANTI had settled down considerably since then.

ANTI glared down at the ground. “I’͘ve̛ had͏ ̡s͝ǫme̴ ti̵m͘e̢ t͜o͠ thiǹk͡ ab́o̡u͝t ̢thing̶s.”̡

“Things?”

“Lik̸e- ͝l̕ike ͞S͡ean̕, a͟nd ̵me̶, ̶and… a̶ǹd̡ ҉f͏r͟íęn̶ds̸.”͢ ANTI hissed ‘friends’ through clenched teeth. “̷Esp̕eci̛a̵ĺly͏ a̵f͢t̕eŗ t̡he͝ ar͏gùm͡ent͞ ̵wi̶th ́t͝h͞ę ̡B̧ar͝r̸e̷l҉ ͏cr͟e̸ẁ.͝” ANTI glanced up at Robin briefly, and then snapped his gaze back to the ground. He clearly wasn’t used to having lengthy conversations with anyone but Sean, if they could even be called that. They hadn’t talked much since SEAN-I had glitched until recently.

“Sean said—”

“͜I͝ kn͏o͡w w͟h͘at ̧Sea҉n̢ ͞s̸a͠íd̢,” ANTI snapped, snarling at Robin. He let his face fall when he saw Robin jump back. “S̡o̡r͏ry,͞”̴ ANTI grumbled, tail twitching slightly.

“Thanks,” Robin said, relaxing somewhat. “Sean said you picked up the call more than he did. I don’t- I- Did you?”

ANTI nodded. “Tec͞h̵ņi̢c͟all̸y ̷w͝e̡ b̴oth ̛did,”̶ he said, standing up and beginning to pace the length of the room. “W̸e were b̧o͘th th͟e̶r̛e͠. ̴In con̷t͡r͢ol҉.͝”

“Like our argument.”

“́Mor̶e͡ or ͝ļesş,͏”̷ ANTI agreed. “͟I ̸le͏t̡ ͡S͘ean͏ ҉tal̶k͘ ̡to th͜e͘m͏ ́uńt͡il ͘t̸h͡ey d͘eci͏ded̡ to c͏on͏tinu̧e b̢eing ͜a͟ss̢ho̕le̵s ͘ąn͝d̵ n̛ot́ l͘ist̛e͡n̕.͏”͘ ANTI stopped in the center of the screen, rubbing his hands together. “̴H́e ̡t̸old the͡m̢ n̷o̕t̡ t̡o ̛call him͏ Sea͞n ̨a͜n͡y̛mo͡r͝e,́ and ̶I, e͞r, em̴ph̢ás̕íz̀eḑ h̛i͢s͢ ͝p͜oint m̀or̵e͟. ̵Tḩe̢y ̸h͠aven͞’́t tried ͟t͝o ćal͘l s҉in̵cè.”͝

Robin nodded slowly and watched ANTI continue pacing for a minute. It was weird getting this information from ANTI rather than Sean. Especially with how willingly ANTI had spoken to Robin. Sean had clearly been holding back from Robin, and it was hard to say if he had intended on ever fully telling Robin what had happened. Sure, Sean was always pretty reluctant to share mistakes he’d made, but—

“Why are you telling me this?” Robin asked, making ANTI freeze in his tracks. “I mean, why not just let Sean tell me?”

ANTI ran his hands through his hair and let out a deep breath before falling back into the chair. “H̸è w͘asn’t ͏goi͟ng t̕o.”

“I mean, I’m sure he would have event—”

“͏R͏obin, ̡S͏ea̵n̴ n͜ever͘ pl͡ànn͟ed͡ to͟ ̵te͠ll̶ you ẁhat ̛h̀ad hap͡pe͝ned.” ANTI rubbed the scars on his knuckles. “Eve͡r͟.͢”

Robin’s heart sank, and he could see the colors starting to fade around his edges. Did Sean not trust him anymore? Had he done something to Sean without knowing it? They hadn’t had any arguments recently, but Robin thought that was a good thing. Was he just missing something? Had Sean been suffering in silence, thinking Robin didn’t care? He could feel his colors dull further.

“͘He͘ ҉śtil͜l͞ ̡t͝r̛ust̶s ̶y̶ou͘,”͟ ANTI said suddenly, snapping Robin out of his thoughts. “͏He ̧t͜h͟o̸u̧gh͠t if he͠ ̨told yo̕u͢, he’d́ ̀jus̷t҉ d͡ri͠v̸e ̛yo͏u̸ away tơo̕.́ ͏H̵e͘’s̵ sc͏a͟re͏d͠ ̛o҉f͡ ̨l̸osi͡n͢ǵ ̨ev͘e͞ryo̴n҉e, ̴a͝n̡d ͢h̨e̸’̴s̡ sca̛re̛d i͟t’̶s a̕lĺ hi҉s ̷fau̕lt.̨”̀ ANTI leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs. “H̴e̸ to͏l҉ḑ ̨y͝o͞u҉ on͝c͝e ͡th̡aţ h̶e̷ d̵i̛dn’̨t̶ wa͢nt͢ ̡m҉e҉ ̸hu̡rti҉ng ͏an͜y͜o͡ne̴ he ͏c̴óu͢ld͢n͏’t f͠i͘x.̸ ̡T̨hat͟ ít ͘wa̸s sa͡fe̢r͞ i͝f̛ h͜e ͘didn’͠t ge͜t tǫ kn̷oẁ an͘y ̵r͡e͏al ͠p͠e̶op̡le͝.̕ It̀- It’s͏ ͟nơt͠ ͜j̴u͜st͘ ͘me̷ ̕h̷e̴’̡s͢ ͟worr̀ie͠d ab͠out aņymore. ͜He̵’s s͟c͠are͢d h͠e’s ͜nev̧e̶r ́g͜o͞i͜n͟ǵ ́to̸ ͟be ̢ab̢le̵ to̶ f̷ix̡ w͡ha̶t ͢h̡e̷ ̵b̧ro̵kȩ wi̵t̴ḩ ̢tḩè B̵àr̛r͜el̢.͏”

“And why do you care all of a sudden?” Robin asked, his tone coming out harsher than he’d intended. “Shouldn’t you be overjoyed about this? Mr. Sean-would-be-safer-alone? Aren’t you finally getting what you wanted?” He glowered down at ANTI, waiting for his excuse.

ANTI hung his head, and his tail drooped. “I…̶ I w̧as̕ wron͘g̷.”͡ His voice was hardly a whisper, but Robin could still hear the fear in ANTI’s voice. “̕S̨e̢a͘n ͘nee͘ḑs͟ y͟o̴ų,͠ a͜nd̛ ͠he̛ ̛ne͡ed͟s͏ t͟he B͠a͡rreļ,̨ ͜e͘v͡e̡n i̧f ͠th͞ey’rę ̡b̨e͝ing st̸upi͡d r͝ight no̷w͜. ͞Į ̛ca̵ǹ’t ͘k̛e̶e̡p͞ ͢him sa͠f̢e ̛ón͡ m̶y͠ ̨o͟w̡n.͝ I̷ c͞an o̕nly͟ d̴o ̴s͏o̡ m҉u͠c͏h.͟ I̸ ̷e̷nd͝e̴d ̶h͢i̶s͠ c̨al̢ĺ w̵it̢h̛ t̨he ͏B̨a̛rr҉el͘ ͡be̶c͠a҉u͜se͟ ̶I ̨k̨new͡ ̸hę’d ͜on͟l̢y͟ sa͟y͠ mo͡r͜e̷ ̸t͢h͡ing̷s h͜e͠’͏d reg̀r͠e̛t҉ ͝later if ͡he͠ ͏k̴eṕt ̀ţa̕l͢ki̴n̡g̢ ̢to t̛h̕e͟ḿ.͜ ̴I s͠hơul͞d ͜h҉av͠e ̵st̷o͠pp҉éd̕ hi̸m ̛s̷oóne͜r͢.̵” ANTI looked up at Robin, and then back at the floor. “̛He ̶wąnt̶e̴d to͠ for̡g̸et̷ ̨t̕he f͠i̸r͏st͝ ̛arg̴u͟ment. T҉hat̡’s- ͏t̵h̢a͘t́’s̨ ͏w͘hy̛ ͡I͞ wa͡s ͞in̶ ̨co͜n͞t̀r͠o͠l.͞ H͜e f̶or̀c͟ed ̀me. ͡I co͞ùld͏n’̷t ͠l͝et ͢h͝im͡ f͞o̢r͡ge҉t, ̶t͞hou͏g̛h. H́e wouldn’̴t͏ be̛ ̀hap̴ṕy͏ if̛ ̵he̢ f̶o͝rgót͡.̧”̸

Robin wanted to reach through his screen and comfort the AI. He hadn’t realized that ANTI felt like this, or that he really felt much at all other than anger. He’d always just thought that ANTI could never change. That he was always going to be a murderous, untrustworthy, glitched AI. Robin hadn’t realized how much ANTI had changed. He really cared about Sean.

“You did your best,” Robin said kindly, making ANTI look up in surprise. “Thank you.”

ANTI grinned. It was still the same unsettling grin he always had, but it was obvious that there was genuine happiness behind it. “T͢h̛an̢k̡s, R͟ob̧in̵,҉” ANTI said. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair, and Robin watched the red and green markings recede and disappear. Another minute longer, and Sean opened his eyes wide, not bothering to mask his fear.

“Welcome back,” Robin chuckled.

“What’d he say?” Sean asked, desperately trying to force the spikes on his arms to lower. ANTI was quiet in the back of his mind, and Robin was shaking his head with a smile on his face. “Robin?”

“Everything,” Robin answered. Sean’s heart dropped to the end of his tail. How much was everything? If ANTI had told Robin everything, then that was a lot, and it was a lot Sean didn’t want Robin to know. Sean felt his heart start beating faster. “I’m not mad at you,” Robin added.

“You- you’re not?”

Robin shook his head, and the two sat in silence for a moment.

“They accused me of treason, Robin,” Sean said quietly, not bothering to hold back the tears welling up in his eyes. “I- It hurt. And then they just wanted to pretend it was all okay, even though it wasn’t. It feels like they don’t even care anymore.” Sean looked up at Robin. “Am I really that bad?”

“Of course not!” Robin protested. “You know they still care about you. You just- You both made some mistakes, that’s all.”

Sean nodded and looked down at his hands. He knew Robin was right, but what if the Barrel thought that Sean didn’t care about them? He’d basically told them that he didn’t trust them anymore. He wasn’t sure if he could ever take that back.

“Do you want me to talk to them?” Robin asked gently. “Just tell them that you’re alright. I’m sure they’re worried about you.”

“Just tell them ANTI is keeping me on my ship,” Sean said with a nod. “I’ll- I’ll talk to them when I’m ready.”

“Got it.” Robin paused. “I’ll talk to you later, then?”

Sean nodded again, and let Robin end the call. He leaned back in his chair, wiping the tears off of his face with the edge of his sleeve. It actually felt good to get everything off his chest, even if it was done somewhat unwillingly. ANTI had strange ways of showing that he cared.

Sean was just sitting up when there was a quiet knock at his door. He quickly dried his eyes again before jumping out of his seat and answering the door.

“Henrik?” Sean raised an eyebrow at the medical robot. “You just checked on me earlier. What’s up?”

“JJ needs you in the kitchen,” Henrik said stiffly, clasping his hands behind his back.

“I told him I’d eat la—”

“Did I say you had a choice?” Henrik snapped, startling Sean into silence. “Now, let’s go.” Without waiting a second longer, Henrik turned on his heel and started down the hall to the kitchen at a brisk pace. Sean, anxious to find out what was so important, followed quickly behind, not quite matching Henrik’s pace.

Jackie and Marvin were playing a game of cards on the floor when Sean stepped into the common area. Chase was whispering across the kitchen counter to JJ, but stopped abruptly when JJ made a quick gesture.

Sean stepped carefully around Jackie and Marvin, who were now quickly gathering the cards back into their case. Henrik fell behind, and Sean could hear the the doctor whisper something to the other two robots.

“What is this, an intervention?” Sean chuckled nervously as he leaned on the counter next to Chase. JJ shook his head quickly, and Chase grinned.

“Nah, dude,” Chase said, nodding to JJ, who bounced over to the fridge. “We made you something.”

“You made—” Sean stopped, his mouth still half open as he took in the sight of what JJ had pulled out of the fridge.

The round white cake was clearly handmade, with frosting spread unevenly and its shaky writing. The trim on the top and bottom were light green, and glistened with red and blue glitter. It read simply, “We love you, Sean!” followed by the signatures of each of his crew. They’d even included a small frosting drawing of Sam.

Sean covered his mouth with his hands, letting the tears fall freely down his face. They’d made this… for him? All the pain he’d felt earlier seemed to be nothing in comparison to the joyful swelling in his heart. His tail twitched happily behind him, and he didn’t flinch when he felt Chase wrap his arm around his shoulders.

“We all helped make it,” Chase explained as Sean’s crew gathered around the counter. “JJ did made the cake, Marvin and Jackie made the frosting, I decorated it, and Henrik did all the writing except our names. We all wrote our own names. Well, not Sam. I drew Sam.”

“Are you impressed?” Marvin asked eagerly, looking hopefully at Sean. “Do you like it?”

“Like it?” Sean echoed breathlessly. “Guys, it- it’s perfect.” He almost didn’t want to eat it, just stare at it forever. He quickly took a picture of the cake with his cyborg eye. He was going to frame this in his room as soon as possible.

“It’s true, y’know,” Jackie added, grabbing Sean’s attention. “Even if it feels like no one else does, we love you, dude.”

Sean stood still. His arms still raised, trembling slightly. He wanted to reach out. Say something. Tell them how much this gift, this simple gesture of appreciation, meant to him, but he couldn't. He just stood there. Hoping someone would see what he needed. And of course, just like he'd programmed him too, Chase's arms wrapped around him. One by one, the robots moved around the counter, coming closer. Hugging him. Letting him know that despite everything, they were there. Programmed to give this comfort or not, Sean felt himself cracking. He hugged them back. These beings of metal and energy that he'd given life too, now holding him as he struggled to hold onto his own.

Since his argument with the Barrel, Sean had felt so lost. It felt like everything he loved had been ripped out from under him, and he’d been kicked rudely onto the curb of reality. It felt like nothing would ever get better. He’d messed up for the last time, and it was going to be the end of him. He was going to waste away with no one to remember him.

He’d forgotten.

He’d forgotten the family he’d made with his bare hands, carefully assembling each one like works of art. He’d forgotten the sleepless nights he’d spent making sure every last detail was the best he could make it. He’d forgotten the feeling of love and pride seeing his creations come to life. Seeing them stand by his side countless times, lifting him physically and emotionally more times than there were stars in the galaxy.

Sean still missed the crew of the Barrel. They were family to him. He couldn’t change that. But now he remembered. He remembered he had another family.

He remembered he wasn’t alone.

#official story #admin crow #jacksepticeye #pixlpit #robin #chase brody #jameson jackson #henrik von schneeplestein #jackieboy man #marvin the magnificent

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violetnuisance · 5 years

Text

Wake Up

pairing: Sal Fisher/Larry Johnson

rating: T

words: 3,224

summary: Sal rambles to Larry while the brunet’s in a coma.

a/n: Hi, my Sally Face discord server has monthly art/writing challenges. July’s theme was “Hospital,” so this is my submission. Here’s the link to the server: https://discord.gg/kYtz72e

Sal stood awkward, one hand clasped around the bouquet of peonies he had spray painted black while the other hand tightly gripped a “Get Well Soon!” card, no doubt creasing it. His mind felt numb as he stood and stared at his best friend who laid unconscious in the hospital bed that dominated the tiny room. Larry had definitely seen his better days. His hair was unkempt, sticking up every which way, and the dark circles underneath his eyes only seemed to worsen as his stay at the hospital progressed, having lasted two weeks already. Despite the doctors and nurses reassuring a stressed Lisa and Sal that Larry was in stable condition and would most likely make a swell recovery, the bluenet was still worried. Every day that passed that Johnson didn’t wake up, his stress only skyrocketed.

What if Larry had severe brain damage that the doctors didn't notice? What if he woke up in a vegetative state? What if he didn’t wake up?

Sal tried to shake the thoughts and padded over to the small nightstand beside Larry’s bed. An array of wilted flowers and still-enveloped cards littered the desk. Sal tried not to think about how most of the bouquets would be dead by the time Larry woke up as he set his own down. The falsely black flowers stood out against the pink ones everyone else had left, and Sal felt a sort of sick satisfaction. Larry had told him about how someone needed to genetically engineer a solid black flower. He couldn’t remember the context of the conversation, but he remembered how much they had laughed about it. A smile threatened to tug at his lips from beneath his prosthetic, but the urge was quickly destroyed. He shouldn’t have left Larry alone that night.

Sal laid on his stomach on the treehouse’s splintered floor, a lit cigarette between his lips and his prosthetic at his side. Larry laid on his back beside him, shirt pushed up, exposing his stomach, as he stretched. The sun outside was quickly setting, but that didn’t mean Sal couldn’t still make out a trail of soft brown hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of the other’s jeans in the treehouse’s dimness. The sight made him itch, curiosity lighting him ablaze. He smushed the notion quickly forming in his head down and took the cigarette from his lips, blowing a trail of smoke. Larry looked at him, a dopey grin on his face. Something had piqued the brunet’s interest, and he rolled onto his side, facing Sal.

“We should shotgun, baby blue,” Larry laughed, voice airy and light. Sal rolled his good eye at him.

“No one shotguns cigarette smoke,” Sal stated. His fingers brought the stick back up to his mouth. Over the years, he had become a master at hiding his reactions from Larry’s random quips. The brunet had the worst habit of cracking jokes that made Sal’s heart pitter-patter pathetically in his chest. Still, at the thought of Larry’s lips on his, he could feel the tips of his ears growing warm. Before the brunet could notice the pink tint, Sal turned his head and blew smoke into the other’s face. The bluenet let out a snort as Larry wrinkled his nose in slight disgust. “You act like you don’t smoke a pack a day.”

“Doesn’t mean the smell has grown on me,” Larry rebuffed, rubbing the back of his hand across his nose. Sal shook his head, bangs bouncing against his forehead.

“Are you trying to tell me I stink?” Larry laughed again, and the sound rumbled through Sal’s chest. He had always been especially fond of his friend’s voice, and Larry’s laughter always caused a weird sense of nostalgia to fall over him, like he was returning home after exploring the world for years. The brunet took the cigarette from Sal while he was lost in thought.

“Don’t worry, we can stink together,” Larry assured, a wolfish grin on his face. Sal watched silently as Larry placed the cigarette between his lips before sucking gently. The bluenet should’ve seen the next action coming, but he really hadn’t.

“Oh, c’mon dude,” Sal groaned as Larry blew the smoke into his face. He waved a hand around dramatically, trying to clear the vapor. “You’re such a… such a rat!”

“Your vernacular never ceases to astound me, bluebird,” Larry mocked, passing the cigarette back to Sal. Sal took it in hand, watching in slight interest as Larry sat up before standing and walked over to the mini fridge he had hooked up. The shorter male’s interest turned to dread as his lanky friend pulled out a bottle, caramel liquid sloshing inside of it.

“I thought you were stopping that,” Sal complained, the words pushing out automatically. His eyes narrowed as Larry used the end of his shirt to help pop the cap off the bottle. Immediately, the sickening cat-pee smell of beer assaulted Sal’s senses.

“I said I’d try to stop, and I did try,” Larry corrected before bringing the bottle to his lips. Sal cringed as he watched the other’s adam’s apple bob, swallowing the drink down. The shorter male grimaced and reached for his prosthetic. The brunet watched as Sal stubbed the cigarette out against the floor, leaving a burn mark. Larry had chastised him about it multiple times before, but Sal didn’t care at the moment. “Where are you going?”

Sal stared at Larry as he clasped his straps into place at the back of his head. “You know how I feel about your drinking problem,” he chastised, moving to his feet.

The bluenet had never been a fan of alcohol. Before his mom had passed, both of his grandparents on his dad’s side had been raging alcoholics. His mom wouldn’t let them see their grandkid unless they tried to recover. They chose the bottle. And then, after his mom’s death, his father had fallen into the same state. He drank his days away until Sal found him passed out on the floor from alcohol poisoning. After a few days in the hospital, his dad sobered up. As soon as they got back home, they both equipped themselves with plastic trash bags and threw out all the alcohol. Sal thought that would be the last he’d ever have to see of alcoholism, but now Larry was running down the same reckless path. The bluenet didn’t know why, and the other refused to open up to him.

“It’s not a problem-”

“Yes it is, Larry! How do you not see that?” Sal was fuming, his hands balled into fists at his sides. The brunet stood stiff, surprised by the emotional outburst. “There’s a difference between responsible drinking and alcoholism. And you, my friend, crossed that boundary months ago.” Sal’s voice came out quieter now, a tremble in his tone. He didn’t know if he was angry or despairful, but he knew the tears would start flowing either way if he didn’t leave.

By god, he had hoped Larry would stop him on the way out, but the brunet hadn’t, and the next morning Sal got a phone call from Lisa, explaining that her son had gone into an alcohol poisoning induced coma.

Larry’s chest rose and fell with his breaths, and Sal wished the brunet would crack his eyes open and offer a coy smile, saying this was some prank all along. Of course, nothing of the sort happened. Sal’s gaze traveled to the plastic chair sitting at the bed’s side. Lisa had been sitting there before Sal came in, talking to the unresponsive male. Apparently the nurses had told her that stimulating Larry’s main senses could help rouse him, so the woman had done everything in the book. She rambled to him about her day every time she visited after work, constantly held his hand and kissed his cheek every time she left, and she had even brought and lit candles in the room from their apartment. Before she had given Sal privacy with Larry, she urged him to talk to the brunet. Sal had denied the notion, saying he wouldn’t stay that long, but now he felt himself sitting down in the uncomfortable chair.

For a moment, he just sat, not knowing what to say. But soon enough, the words flowed smoothly. “You’re such an idiot,” Sal whispered, feeling uncomfortable breaking the silence. He glanced around, half expecting a nurse to come in and chastise him for being loud. When that didn’t happen, he continued. “I hate to say ‘I told you so,’ but I told you so. I read you an online article of this exact thing happening. My dad’s binge drinking wasn't even this bad. God, I can’t believe you cut off the oxygen flow to your brain, and still, somehow, survived getting severe brain damage. Lisa thought you were dead when she found you!”

Sal felt his cheeks wetten as he continued to rant, everything surging up at once. His eyes glanced warily around the room. The only window was a small one in the door. Taking a chance, Sal took off his prosthetic and set it in his lap. He hated how the material would cling to his skin when he was sweating or crying. “I don’t know what happened to you. You were obviously using it as some sort of coping mechanism, but I have no idea what for. You became so closed off, and you scared me. I thought you would eventually discard me. I guess you’re still going to disappear from my life for at least a month or two. You’re going to a rehabilitation center after you wake up,” Sal paused, voice growing meek, “God, please wake up.”

Once more, silence invaded the room. Sal blinked, trying to clear his vision from where it had grown blurry from tears. He could still feel a few wet trails rolling down his face, but he felt better. Most of the torrent had been released.

When he could see again, his gaze trailed to Larry’s hand. It laid at the brunet’s side, black nail polish mostly chipped off. Sal took in into his hand without thinking. He guided Larry’s fingers to interlock with his own. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll tell you a secret right now, and you'll wake up and tell me why you were so committed to destroying your life.” Sal paused. Despite Larry not being able to hear him, he still felt like he was putting his heart on the line. Both of his hands clasped at Larry’s hand, grounding himself.

“I really, really like you Johnson. Don’t let that inflate your already bursting ego because you absolutely don't deserve the compliment right now. But everytime you laugh and show off that stupid ass toothgap, I want to punch you because in those moments I just want to lean over and kiss you, and I know I can’t. Maybe if you wake up, we can try shotgunning cigarette smoke before you leave even though that’s the most idiotic idea you’ve ever come up with,” Sal laughed before bringing Larry’s hand up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the back of the brunet’s hand. “If you can’t wake up for yourself, please wake up for me and Lisa.”

It was the next day when Larry came to. Sal had been getting ready to shower when Lisa called him. He had been ready to come right away, grime and all, but Lisa stopped him. Apparently Larry was in a minimally conscious state. He’d wake up for a few minutes, confused as to where he was, and then pass out again. The grogginess would most likely wear off after a few days, and Lisa promised to call him again when her son was alert enough to carry out a conversation with someone.

The two day wait between the initial phone call and the second were absolute Hell to Sal. Even his father had picked up on his nervous energy, ordering a pizza and renting a movie the first night to help Sal calm down. The second night was when Lisa called again, and Sal made it to the hospital in record time.

When he arrived, he was delighted to find out that Larry was still in tact. There would be no outstanding injuries except for a headache. However, he couldn't barge in and tackle Larry right away because Lisa was still visiting him, so Sal sat in the waiting room, legs bouncing. He could’ve cried in relief when Lisa walked into the room, twenty minutes later. He made himself wait and speak to the woman before making a break for it.

“Sorry for taking so long, but I have the Mom Privilege to get to see my son first,” Lisa joked, a warm smile on her face. Sal stood upon the greeting, his body swaying from side to side in anticipation. “But I can assure you he’s excited to see you. Yesterday, every time he woke up, he always mentioned your name. Just try not to over excite him.”

“Yes ma’am, I’ll try my best.” Lisa’s smile broadened before she pulled Sal into a hug.

“I’ve told you, just call me Lisa,” she chastised before breaking the embrace. However, her hands still gripped Sal’s shoulders. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you! Larry remembers what was said to him during his coma. He doesn’t remember every conversation explicitly, but he definitely remembers the gist of everything. I hope you didn’t insult him while you visited him the other day.”

Sal was too excited for Lisa’s words to sink in. He just mumbled out a quick, “oh, okay,” before taking off to Larry’s room. Lisa had left the door open upon her exit, so the blunet could just slip right in and close it behind him. As soon as the door shut, Larry perked, sitting up.

“Fisher!” Larry’s hair was an absolute bird’s nest, hair enveloping his head like a lion’s mane. His eyes were also red, an indicator that he had been crying recently. Sal supposed Lisa’s talk with him couldn't have been entirely sunshine and rainbows. He, too, was sure that he’d berate Larry later, but he was too happy to see that his friend was alive and well to do it right away.

“Larry!” Sal ignored Lisa’s desire to not over excite Larry for the time being and barreled halfway over the bed’s railing, enveloping the other in a hug. The brunet let out a surprised chuckle before wrapping his arms around Sal.

“If you pushed yourself any further onto here, you’d practically be laying on the bed with me,” Larry teased, his grip around Sal tightening.

“Shut up, I missed you, you oaf,” Sal mumbled, voice muffled by his prosthetic, and the fact that his face was pressed into Larry’s shoulder. “Don’t you ever scare us like that again!”

Larry didn’t say anything at the remark, and Sal didn't press. He was content to just hug the other for awhile. However, the cramped position wasn’t allowing him to breathe all that great through his prosthetic, so he pulled away. Larry stared hard at him as he dug his fingers beneath the prosthetic’s surface, pulling it away from his skin a little to get some fresh air. “You should just take it off,” Larry advised.

Sal looked from him and then back to the door’s window. “But someone could see,” he opposed. He had already risked it once, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to do that again.

“I highly doubt it. Your back’s to the window, and I could tell you if someone was coming in,” Larry countered, a sudden fierceness to his voice. Sal hesitated. “I mean, only if you want to. You obviously don't have to.”

There was a second more of hesitance before Sal decided it'd be okay to shed the prosthetic. Larry looked at him like a giddy puppy as he undid the straps and set the device down on the table. The brunet held his arms out for a hug again, and Sal couldn't help the small smile that graced his features. “You’re such an idiot,” Sal quipped, holding his own arms out.

“I know,” Larry smirked as Sal leaned over the bed again. Instead of the hug the blunet was expecting, the other grabbed his forearms and pulled him down closer, planting their lips together. Sal jerked back as if electrocuted.

“What-”

“Did Mom not tell you?” Larry’s gaze was searching, hands still clasping onto Sal’s arms. Sal shook his head, confusion etched onto his face. “That I could hear you when you talked to me?”

“Oh,” Sal simply responded. Lisa had told him that, but he had been too dense to realize what exactly that entailed. As it dawned on him, he could feel a blush travelling up his neck.

“Oh,” Larry mocked, over exaggerating his facial features. Sal glared at him, and the idiot had the audacity to grin, tip of his tongue poking out from between his teeth. “I can’t believe baby blue has a crush on me! When were you going to tell me?”

“Oh, shut up,” Sal complained, the tips of his ears a vibrant red. He felt like he was back in high school, blushing every time Ash happened to look in his direction. He didn’t appreciate it.

“Make me,” Larry teased back, bushy eyebrows wagging. He looked from Larry’s eyes to his lips and then back up again. He still needed two things confirmed.

“You like me?” Larry rolled his eyes at the first inquiry, and Sal swallowed the urge to throttle him.

“I wouldn’t be offering to kiss you if I didn’t,” he answered, tone matter-of-fact. Sal couldn’t help but smile before dampening the mood with the next question.

“You’re going to actually try this time, right? You’re going to try in rehab, right? I can’t have you having another episode and actually lose you,” Sal whispered. Larry faltered, tongue dampening his chapped lips. The bluenet could see the other’s eyes dampen again, not quite shedding tears, but he needed to know.

“Yes, I promise,” Larry replied. His hands tightened around Sal’s arms, trying to prove his earnesty. “Now can I have my kiss?”

Sal nodded, leaning down again. Larry met him in the middle and gently pressed their lips together. It was just a quick peck before they pulled away, but then the brunet had Sal by the collar of his shirt, dragging him in for another kiss. The bluenet let him, his own hands coming to rest against the sides of Larry’s face. Sal had always thought that if the chance of Larry touching him- kissing him -ever came up, the sensation would be overbearing and set him alight. However, the action just sent a welcome warmth through his body, much like the same feeling he got when listening to Larry laugh.

“We have to do that more often,” Larry murmured as they pulled away, eyelashes fluttering and cheeks red. Sal thought it was cruel someone could be so beautiful. “But when are we going to shotgun cigarette smoke? You did say we could do that if I woke up.”

The mood was effectively broken. “Oh god, I hate you,” Sal whined, causing Larry to chuckle.

“I love you too, Sally Face.”

#sallyface #sally face art #sally face fanfiction #salarry #larisher #sal fisher #larry johnson #lisa johnson #henry fisher #sally face fanfic

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plague-haver · 5 years

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Columned Between

Whumptober Day 4!

Prompt: Human Shield

Slight Kepcobi, 1953 Words, Gun Violence, Feelings

Read on AO3

Daniel sprinted down the hallway, his shoes hitting the linoleum with harsh slaps as sirens blared on around him. Dust particles choked the air and invaded his lungs even as he tried to cover his nose with his shirt. His calves burned, the lactic acid buildup slowing his pace and disrupting his usually-trained movements. He came upon a branch in the hallway, planting his foot down and turning to fire a single shot at an oncoming security officer. The vibration of the recoil barely even registered in his mind, and he kept running. There was no time, no time.

It was easy enough to say that their mission had gone a bit awry.

It was one that had come from the very top, from Marcus Cutter himself, sitting in his gleaming leather chair in his immaculately-polished office. Goddard Futuristics' deal with Panacea Incorporated had gone a bit sour, and some information Goddard had previously lent to them was now being held with the intention of being used for blackmail. Needless to say, this couldn't continue. So SI-5 ended up somewhere in Siberia, freezing their asses off to recover some hard drives while feeling free to "inflict as much horrible, apocalyptic damage as you please," in Mr. Cutter's words. Really, the mission had been pretty run-of-the-mill by SI-5 standards, and it probably would have gone fine, had Kepler not been acting strange for the entire week preceding.

The change was so prevalent, at least to Daniel, that he could've marked on a calendar the exact day it happened, though he couldn't tell what in the world might have happened that day. It was a Tuesday. Kepler had walked into the SI-5's large office-slash-lab with a visible tension in his shoulders. The Major, a strictly diligent man, filed away a few papers and then left for the day. At three in the afternoon. Throughout the rest of the week, he was near-silent, only speaking to Jacobi and Maxwell for mission plans and matters of business. His usual flawless image developed a few chinks in its armor: a bit of stubble on his always clean-shaven face, lint on his jacket, his shirt coming untucked in a few places. On a normal person, these changes would've been negligible, but Warren Kepler was far from a normal person.

The most Daniel had heard him talk over the entire course of those seven days was on the day of the Hermes launch. The station had already gone up months ago, but the crew was being launched in a separate transport, Officer Klein among them. Daniel stood out on the asphalt next to Kepler, the Florida humidity soaking his shirt through and the heat waves coming off of the tarmac warping the air into dizzying ripples. Cutter had walked by them at some point, clapping Kepler on the shoulder with a curt, “Major,” and then walking off to attend to his business.

”Mr. Jacobi, If this launch is successful, things are going to be changing around here, big picture things. I need to know something.” Daniel swallowed thickly.

”Sir?”

”Would you give up everything for the success of Goddard Futuristics?” A weak laugh found its way up from somewhere in the back of Daniel’s throat.

”I mean, I’ve already given most everything I’ve got, right?”

”And one more thing,” Kepler said. ”Would you give up everything for me?” Daniel’s digital watch beeped as it hit noon, and the transport lifted off with the fire of the sun, sending a heat wave shooting past them as the giant hunk of metal hurled itself out of the atmosphere.

The wind of the blast blew past them, sweeping back the few strands of Kepler’s dark hair that had fallen out of place. Daniel could see the hot, red light of the rockets reflected in his eyes as he kept his gaze glued to the transport shuttle.

He didn’t answer, letting the roar of the rockets fill the space between them. Kepler hadn’t spoken directly to him since.

That brought them to the day of the mission. Feeling the cold deep in their bone marrow, the three of them drove out into the woods, shutting off their car and packing bags of equipment and explosives. The plan was for Daniel to head into their base of operation first and set up a small series of explosions to cause a distraction so that the other two could get inside amongst the chaos, retrieve any and all Goddard property, and retreat before Daniel’s final explosion brought the place down. Alana was supposed to monitor their security and keep in touch with him to make sure he could get in with enough time to do what he needed to do, but Panacea’s increase in armed guards since their break with Goddard meant that Daniel had significantly less time than he expected. And, okay, he might have been a bit thrown off by Kepler’s recent disposition, but that still doesn’t change the fact that it’s a bit hard to set up such delicate systems while being shot at.

All three of them made it inside, but one of the larger explosions had gone off long before it was supposed to, leaving Maxwell cornered by collapsing rubble and Jacobi doing his best to walk off the head trauma he suffered. Kepler’s voice came over the comms as Jacob ran through the halls, trying to orient himself.

”Maxwell, are you going to be able to retrieve the hard drives in the west wing?”

”Nope,” she replied through heaving breaths. “But if it makes you feel any better, neither will Panacea. These things just got absolutely crushed, thanks to he-who-shall-remain-nameless. My number one priority right now is going to be digging myself out, or else the two of you are going to be making your way home on your own.”

”Can you make it out before that last blast comes?” From over the comms came a sound like boulders tumbling down a mountain, before two sharp gunshots.

”Yeah, I think I’ll make it.

”Good. Jacobi, you alive?”

”Alive is a bit too generous of a word for it,” Jacobi said, wheezing. “But yeah, I’m still kicking.”

”I need you on the east end now. Take as many of the drives as you can, put holes in the rest.”

”Roger.” Jacobi turned down a few more halls before ducking into a large server room that had been completely abandoned. With the dust finally settling, the place was eerily quiet, and it put Daniel on edge. He double and then triple-checked that the hall was clear before finally turning around to root through cabinets and drawers. He found what he was looking for without much trouble, really these people should have hidden their blackmail material better, when the sharp click of a gun cocking made him freeze.

”Drop your gun,” a man’s voice said from behind him. Daniel might be a screw-up sometimes, but he wasn’t an idiot. The gun clattered to the floor. “Good,” the man said. “Put your hand up and turn around. Slowly.”

The man was only a few inches taller than him, but he was built like a truck. He had thick stubble along his square jaw, and his greying hair was coated with dust and plaster. When he smirked at Jacobi, it revealed a line of yellow, rotting teeth.

”Goddard intelligence, I presume?” He said in his thick Russian accent.

”Yep, nailed it in one. You people make a habit of making powerful enemies around here?”

”Not typically. Enemies do not usually survive for this long.”

”I suppose I could say the same.” Jacobi would’ve liked to say that time seemed to slow down in the following few seconds, but if anything, it seemed to speed up. Over the man’s shoulder, he saw the most miniscule flash of Kepler’s dark jacket, and before he even knew what was going on, the Russian had an arm around Jacobi’s neck and was swinging him around, placing him between himself and the door.

Kepler fired, and Jacobi felt a blooming pain erupt in his left shoulder. The man’s forearm crushed his windpipe and he dug the barrel of his pistol into Jacobi’s temple.

”I see you weren’t alone,” the man said. At the sight of them, Kepler’s fingers twitched around his gun, but he knew that if the man’s reflexes were good enough to bodily haul Jacobi’s entire person around at the smallest hint of a threat, there would be no way Jacobi could survive the split-second it would take a bullet to make its way across the room.

”It seems we’ve found ourselves in a standoff of sorts,” Kepler drawled, hsi eyes not leaving Jacobi’s own.

”That does seem to be the case.” Kepler was looking at him in that way that said I’m not going to bail you out this time. If Jacobi wanted to get out of there before the place blew, he would have to think of something himself. He watched Kepler for any hint of how he was supposed to get out of this, and for the smallest fraction of a second, he saw his eyes dart down to Jaocbi’s hip before jumping back up to look at the man behind him.

”I feel I should let you know something friend,” Kepler said. “This place is set to blow in about, oh, three minutes?” What was Kepler thinking? Did he really think Jacobi could- “What that means is that if any of us want to make it out of here in one piece, we’re going to have to compromise.” This dude had the reflexes of a cheetah. Even if Jacobi could get his hunting knife out without him noticing, how was he supposed to- “So here’s what I propose- you drop that gun right there, we’ll hand over any and all property we have acquired during our stay.” Jacobi had to do it, though, there was no other way. “And then the three of us can hightail it out of here before we get crushed under three-floors’ worth of rubble.”

The man laughed slowly. “Unfortunately, I do not think that will be possible, friend. If this building is going down, the three of us are going down with it. That is- unless you would like to leave the two of us here and save yourself.” Jacobi’s hand grazed against cool metal.

”As enticing of an option as that is, Mr. Jacobi is a rather skilled operative and it would be a shame to have to lose him to one of his own explosions, not to mention terribly ironic, so I’m afraid we won’t be able to take you up on that offer. Jacobi?”

And in the blink of an eye, the man was bringing his gun hand down to grip at the serrated hunting knife Jacobi had just buried in his side. Jacobi ducked down, out of his grip, and Kepler finished the man off with a single shot to the head. With no time to lose, Jacobi retrieved his gun and hard drives, and the two of them were racing out of the building, making it out just moments before they heard the building’s supports coming down.

Kepler never did apologise for shooting him, but Jacobi couldn’t remember a single time he had ever heard Kepler apologise, that just wasn’t something he did. Instead, the Major sat across from him in their hotel room, their knees knocking as Kepler’s steady hands removed the bullet from his shoulder and stitched up the wound. And on the plane back to Canaveral, as Jacobi drifted off in that place between sleep and awake, he could almost feel the way those strong, deft fingers carded softly through his hair.

#whumptober2019 #no 4 #human shield #gun violence tw #guns tw #wolf 359 #kepcobi #w359 #my writing

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god-damn-demetria · 6 years

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Demi Lovato’s Overdose

Okay, first of all I wanna say that I don’t know what happened last Tuesday. We all don’t know what happened exactly, and all I’m going to say in this post is MY OPINION and is all PURE SPECULATION. I could be right, I could be completely wrong. All I know is that all the hate and the media, that's probably mostly false, are annoying and it fucks me up that it even goes this far.

So, let’s get into it all. What are the “facts” we have so far?

1. Last Tuesday, June 24th, Demi was found unconscious in her house in LA. As far as we know, Demi was found at around noon and she was alone. Apparently, she was out celebrating her dancer Dani Vitale’s birthday (I’ll get to her and the other dancers later) the night before (which we do have this video off as the only evidence) and then headed home and had a party at her house as well.

2. At first, TMZ reported that Demi overdosed on heroin, which was later reported to be false. What substance was found in her blood is unclear at this moment. Apparently, paramedics gave her narcan when they arrived and took her to the hospital. At this point, all we know is that she’s still there and dealing with her withdrawal.

3. Later that day, after hours of worrying and being scared it was reported from her rep that she’s awake, stable and responsive.

4. It’s been reported that the last few months or weeks (we don’t know the real timeline here) Demi has been struggling with her addiction again and relapsed on various occasions.

Here is what I think about this all:

When this tour started, she seemed to be in a fantastic place. She was happy, bubbly, celebrated her sixth year of sobriety and nothing pointed towards a possible downward spiral, at least not at the time. The only thing that, looking back on it now, probably should’ve concerned some people is her sudden break with CAST Center and everyone involved (especially Mike, because he’s literally been with her every day during the American leg of the TMYLM Tour), her manager Phil and two of her absolute best friends, Marissa Callahan and Nick Jonas. But even then everyone, myself included, thought that there must’ve been a reason for it and it wasn’t really our place to judge because we didn’t know what happened. It was just weird that she suddenly cut off four people at once. Even her tweets seemed to tell us a story that no one really got. It was shady and messy. But hey, I just thought that whatever happened between her and those people probably hurt, and we all know that she is impulsive and stubborn. It wouldn’t be the first stubborn, shady tweet she’d send out. I was a little worried at that point because I knew how much these four people meant to her and I just thought “Oh my god, what if she got hurt really bad?” But again…it wasn’t really our place to judge, was it?

Another thing that probably should’ve concerned a few people was the fact that she went to Coachella. I mean, yes…she was good with going to parties and staying sober and clean, but Coachella is a whole other level. That’s not the right place for a recovering addict. But I tried to stay positive and told myself “Hey, she’s strong. She just celebrated her six years of sobriety. She can handle it.”…that was until she released “Sober” and I immediately thought that it must’ve been the whole Coachella thing that fucked everything up, combined with a few wrong people surrounding her. But we all know Demi, and we know how good she is at putting on a smile and not letting people know what’s happening in her life. I saw her live in concert in June, and she was just the Demi we all love and adore. Nothing seemed off. Even though, according to some posts and reports, she must’ve already been back to using drugs and drinking.

In “Sober” she sounds vulnerable, ashamed and embarrassed about relapsing, and in her lyrics, she promised to get help. I was positive about it. I never judged her for her relapse, and I never will. It’s part of recovery. She’s human like everyone else, and humans make mistakes. Sometimes, they can’t help but to make them when there’s that little guy called “addiction” sitting in the corner of their brains. In recovery, he’s constantly whispering to you that you need a drink/drug and that it’ll make you feel better and it won’t hurt anybody. Nobody will notice. Usually, he’s not loud enough, but then there comes a point in your life when everything else around you is quiet and all of a sudden he sees his chance and starts shouting all these things at you as loud as he can. And in order to make him stop, you give in. You do what he tells you to do so he finally shuts up.

Let’s move on, though…After “Sober” I hoped she’d be okay. I never saw the overdose coming. I would’ve never thought we’d get to this point where we almost lost her forever. Knowing that breaks my heart just as much as it breaks yours. But all if this doesn’t take away her six years of staying sober, clean and healthy. That’s a fucking accomplishment and nobody can take that away from her!

So…let me get into all the bullshit that’s been going around on Twitter. Let me start with Mike Bayer:

Mike was her life coach for how many years? Ever since she left Timberline Knolls, as far as I know. He was always an incredible person, never said a bad word about her and in Simply Complicated, he told us about what happened with Demi when she first lost control. And he also told us another thing: “The most important thing to Demi is losing people. It’s losing people that care about her and that love her.” Doesn’t that sound like that’s exactly what happened this time around? You gotta keep in mind that this overdose is a whole other level. Her first struggles weren’t as server as this one. So, what if all Mike (and Phil, Marissa and Nick) wanted to do is help her, but she blocked him? What if she didn’t think her problems were as bad as they apparently are and didn’t accept his help? What if she pushed him away because she was annoyed with his constant attempts to help? So Mike did what he had to do and stepped back. I have to admit, I wasn’t fair to him during that time. I was kind of mad at him, especially after that article came out saying she was fired from CAST because she relapsed and that contract she apparently signed or whatever that was…Looking back at all of this now, it was probably all to help her.

Let’s move on…Next on the list is Phil McIntyre:

He was Demi’s manager her whole career. He was the one who saw that Demi was special and had a God given talent, he stood by her side through her first breakdown and still continued to see her potential. I’m not gonna comment on his ability as a manager, because I literally don’t know shit about management, and neither do you, but I still see posts on Twitter constantly bashing him and calling him a bad manager. Do you all forget that he literally helped the Jonas Brothers becoming one of the most successful bands in the late 2000s? And you know what? Let him be a bad manager, I don’t give a fuck…but at least he is a really great human being who cares about his clients more than he cares about money and fame and success. Imagine if Demi would’ve had a different manager, one that pushes his clients so hard to make the most amount of money. One that doesn’t care much about his clients' well-being…one who pushes them so hard that all they can do to cope with the pressure is drink or do drugs…would you really want Demi to be managed by someone like that? At the vulnerable state that she’s constantly in? I don’t think so. Phil apparently staged an intervention, which might’ve been the breaking point in his and Demi’s relationship. So she “fired” him and Lauren Einbinder took over.

Next please…oh yes, Marissa Callahan:

Where do I start with Marissa? Her and Demi have been the absolute best friends for years. They shared some of the same struggles when it comes to mental health issues and Marissa has always been by her side. To me, the two of them were always friendship goals. I personally don’t think Marissa was ever a bad influence to Demi. When Demi started drinking, they were both young and stupid, so we can’t really blame her for anything. There are many teenagers who introduce their friends to alcohol. That doesn’t necessarily mean that these friends will end up becoming addicts. But with Demi, it was a little different. The underlying, undiagnosed mental health issue was part of the reason she developed this addiction, and neither her parents, nor her best friend Marissa could've possible seen the outcome of an early alcohol consume. So, please stop blaming Demi’s addiction on her. If it wasn’t her who introduced her to alcohol, Demi would've eventually gotten in contact with it another way. That’s what happens with teenagers. Okay, so…their friendship was one of the strongest I’ve ever seen. Just earlier this year, they were on vacation together for…how long was that…14 days? It was a long vacation and they seemed to have such a good time. And suddenly, about two or three months later, Demi unfollows her, posts shady tweets and when asked about her best friends, she just names Sirah and Matthew. Usually, Marissa would’ve been on top of that list as well. So, the fact that Marissa probably stepped away as well shows how server Demi’s drug use must’ve been. Just like Mike, Phil and Nick, Marissa wasn't enabling it. And who wants to watch their best friend destroy themselves? No one. Since all attempts to help Demi obviously didn’t work, Marissa stepped away, probably for her own mental health as well.

Now my favorite…Nick Jonas:

You know why he’s my favorite? That dude knows what he’s doing…and it worked the first time. Just at the end of 2017, Demi and Nick were at such an incredible place in their friendship. They were recording each other’s performances on each other’s phones, flew home in the same private jet…just a few weeks before that, Demi basically admitted to having some sorts of feelings for him in two of her songs. In an interview, she said that the person she wrote these songs about loved them and told her he wrote songs about her as well. I’m not saying this because I ship them a lot, but they were slowly heading towards something much stronger than friendship. I personally think that if all of this wouldn’t have happened, instead of getting the report of Demi overdosing, we would’ve gotten some kind of romance update on them. So how come that a friendship as strong and powerful as theirs suddenly ends with her unfollowing him on all social media? Listen to this interview at 7.15min. Nick basically explains it all. He stepped away to save himself from a possible heartbreak that he would’ve suffered if he would’ve kept watching her going down that spiral. And it’s not like he didn’t try. He also once said that the first time she was struggling, he tried to talk to her, but she cut him off. Just like she did again now. I hate to see people tweeting that he’s the reason she relapsed, or that he’s a bad guy in all of this. Just like Marissa, he probably just didn’t wanna witness his best friend ruining herself. I’ve been there, too. I’ve had friends struggling with mental health issues, and in order to keep my sanity, I had to step back at a certain point. So don’t judge him!

Now that I touched on Mike, Phil, Marissa and Nick, let’s get to the messy part…the one where everyone blames her dancers and even members of her family:

I wanna start with Dianna. People are really sending her hate and blame her, when all she was probably doing the past week was being worried as fuck about her daughter? Like…do you even realize how fucked up that this? This woman almost lost her child. She was almost at a point where, instead of planning which treatment center is best for her, she had to plan a funeral. Give her a fucking break! I’m not saying that everything was right in their family, but I think people tend to forget that Dianna herself struggles with mental health issues. So maybe she didn’t even see the depth of the problem. Maybe she couldn’t quite understand how server the whole situation was. And guess what, guys? Maybe she even tried to do something…but Demi is a 25-year-old, grown ass woman. And an addict. And stubborn as fuck. Do you really think she would’ve listened to her mother? Besides that, she’s manipulative. What if she told her mom that everything is okay? She can be super convincing, so what if Dianna believed her? It’s incredibly rude to assume Dianna had something to do with all of this. She is a mother. And from what I’ve seen the past few years that I’ve been following this family, she’s a great one. She loves her daughters.

And now…the part you’ve all probably been waiting for: Demi’s dancer

I honestly don’t even know where to start. Do I start at the American leg of the TMYLM tour? Or do I jump right into the European leg? Do I compare this tour with others that didn’t have dancers? I should probably do all of that. So…I’ve said it before, and I will say it again: The Future Now Tour was and always will be the best tour Demi has ever put together. Why? Well, not only did she travel through America with her best friend, but she was also surrounded by people who really, really cared about her. She had an incredible team, her best friend and she was the happiest I’ve ever seen her. She was free. Whenever they had a day off, they’d so some fun things…things that didn’t necessarily trigger her. And did you guys notice something? There were no dancers. In my opinion, she never needed dancers. Demi’s talent doesn’t need some extra special effects. She could play a two hours show with just her piano and a guitar, and people would still be fascinated by her.

But…I liked the dancers. There were fun, and from what I’ve seen on Instagram, they all had an incredible time. Everyone seemed so genuinely nice and funny and Demi seemed to love them as well. But what did they do when they had a day off? They were partying. And sometimes, Demi joined them. Like I said earlier in this post, there was a time where Demi could easily be part of a party and not care at all. She would drink her red bull and that’s it, but this year was different. She relapsed, and was surrounded by people who consumed alcohol. I’m not saying they caused it, or that they are to blame for it, but Demi was no longer at a place where she could be around that. Could they have done something about it? Maybe, but maybe they didn’t even realize what was going on before it was too late. That being said, let’s focus a little on two of the dancers that have been on top of the “let’s blame people for Demi’s overdose” list the past few days. And these people are Jackie and Dani. Now, Jackie fucked up. I’m sure all of you have seen the video of her doing coke on her Instagram. That’s pretty messy and I definitely don’t agree with what she did. And I seriously hope that she didn’t do it around Demi. While that could’ve been a triggering point for her, it still doesn’t mean that we can blame Jackie for Demi’s overdose.

Now Dani…I’m really conflicted at this point. I love Dani. I’ve met her. I’ve talked to her and what she said to us, how she treated us and what she then offered us was beyond anything I’ve ever experienced or expected from someone. She was one of the nicest, kindest and most humble people I have ever met in my life. She was so patient with us and really, really genuine. She’s always been getting hate, for ridiculous shit like being responsible for Jojo to leave the tour. People even said that she kicked her off and took her place…like bitch, they were literally both on that tour in America. Nobody took anyone’s place here. So I was already like “Damn, she doesn’t deserve that. She’s so fucking nice.”. So when I saw that everyone was now attacking her for causing Demi’s overdose, I was like “Okay, hold the fuck on…” Here’s what we know: Demi was at Dani’s birthday party. That alone is nothing to be extremely worried about. Like…Demi going to her friend’s birthday party? How fucking normal from her. Damn, Demi. And we all didn’t know how server her drug use was at this point. And guess what? Maybe Dani didn’t know either? Just like Demi’s family might not haven know just how bad it really was? We don’t know what happened at the party. We didn’t see any videos or pictures of her drinking with Dani. What if she didn’t do any of that while Dani was around?

Okay, let’s continue…Even though it was Dani’s birthday party, and Demi reportedly continued partying at her house with some people, that doesn’t mean Dani was there as well because for all we know, the party at Demi’s house had nothing to do with her birthday anymore. So…let’s say she was no longer there…how can you blame her for the overdose? How can you blame anyone who was there for the overdose? The only plausible explanation about when Demi overdose is the next morning, a little while before she was found. At that point, I’m 100% sure nobody else was at the house anymore. Didn’t someone say Demi was alone when it happened? Okay, it was probably one of these oh so reliable sources, but it makes the most sense to me. Like…yes, there were probably people enabling the drug use, but I can’t imagine anyone really letting someone overdose and possibly die. So nobody left her alone. Nobody just “watched” her overdose. She was alone, I don’t think it was her intention to overdose and she was lucky someone found her in time. If she would’ve overdosed that night…and then someone found her around noon…as hard as it is to hear, but then she wouldn’t be with us anymore. So stop blaming Dani. And stop reading too much into her statement.

I could say a lot more things…about the guys she’s been seen with (you know…when everyone thought she was out with G-Eazy?) for example. Or Dilmer, which I’m not gonna get into because those of you who follow me know how I feel about them as a couple. But this is already long enough. Like I said, I don’t blame anyone.

I’m gonna say this once and for all: THE ONLY ONE TO BLAME FOR DEMI’S OVERDOSE IS HER FUCKING ADDICTION! None of the people she’s been surrounding herself with forced her to do anything. She did that all on her own, because her addiction got stronger. Remember that little guy I told you about earlier? Yeah, he was yelling like a motherfucker!

#demi lovato #nick jonas #phil mcintyre #mike bayer #dani vitale

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thesocraticstare · 6 years

Text

Happy Friendsgiving, my sweet dudes! I come bearing gifts... of literary erotica! I’m hoping to clean this up a little and post it to AO3, maybe sometime over the weekend when I’m not surrounded by family and leftover turkey. This might be very similar to everything I’ve posted in this fandom thus far, but as long as I’m just fulfilling my own dark desires (and also maybe giving @joycecarolnotes a nice holiday treat), I’ll try not to worry about that too much. So, with that said...

Doctor’s Orders (Jared/Richard, Rated E, Anal Fingering and also Feelings)

If he had to pinpoint the moment when it all changed, Richard would have to say it started with Erlich’s failed app launch. If he were honest with himself, he might admit things had been shifting in his subconscious for some time now. Maybe his furtive glances had lengthened, his porn browsing habit increased. But it was definitely MoonRub that brought him and Jared decisively together.

It was otherwise an ordinary Thursday. Richard was taking a break from coding to catch up on reading TechCrunch. Dinesh and Gilfoyle were arguing about Overwatch in the other room. The front door slammed, and Erlich stormed in, brandishing a vape pen.

“Those fools!” he thundered. “Has the gift of true vision abandoned all men in this benighted city?”

Richard raised his eyebrows, but otherwise just waited for Erlich to continue his tirade.

“So much pain and suffering in this world, and yet no one--no one!--is willing to take a step to help their fellow man. Well, fuck them, I say!” He stabbed his vape pen in the air for emphasis, then took an angry puff.

“You’re sounding awfully humanitarian,” Richard noted mildly.

“Well might I!” Erlich rejoined. “MoonRub could’ve really made a difference in this world of iniquity and perfidy. Really helped people, you know? People who aren’t lucky enough to have a source for ample quantities of the good herb. People who maybe need a massage oil or body butter enhanced--” he exhaled another cloud of vapor--“with the most potent marijuana strains known to Cali growers, and they need it on demand, via a convenient app. This is where MoonRub steps in.”

“You were developing another app? Without, like, telling me?” Richard couldn’t help the wounded note in his voice, but he was soundly ignored.

“Richard, Richard. It's important for a man of my status to keep himself engaged. I need to keep my hand in the game. Keep one eye on currents in the tech world. Keep--”

“Okay, I get it,” Richard muttered. “But what happened?”

“Well. It turns out the legal barriers to selling highly-potent holistic bodycare nationwide are still, sadly, insurmountable by even the most well-planned homegrow startup. Evading the authorities, however, is but one of the skills in my arsenal. At this point, I’m just terribly disappointed for our customers--”

“Hypothetical customers, maybe,” Richard said under his breath. Erlich ignored him.

“--Our customers, now sadly unable to receive these high-quality herbal marijuana lotions, potions, and salves.”

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” Jared's level voice broke in from the direction of the kitchen. Richard and Erlich both turned to see him standing in the doorway, a small bag under his arm.

“I couldn’t help but overhear part of your conversation. Sorry for eavesdropping! But I just came back from my doctor’s office, and the description of the need for your product line--apologies on the stymied app potential!--is surprisingly close to my own experience. You know, I’ve sometimes wondered if my… issues might be alleviated by--”

“Oh god,” Erlich said, exhaling a puff of vapor. “If you’re starting on your medical history, please pardon me. I’m not exactly in the mood for a tragic epic.” He exited for his own quarters, trailing an aromatic cloud behind him. Gilfoyle and Dinesh, who had barely paused their argument to listen to Erlich’s app woes, exchanged a quick glance, then followed suit. Richard just caught Gilfoyle muttering something about “leftover product samples” before they were out of earshot.

Richard, still a little stung by Erlich’s unspoken side-ventures, was more inclined to hear Jared out. He gestured vaguely to the little bag. “So what’ve you got?”

Jared smiled and took his usual seat. “Well, as you know, I’m trying to save a bit more money, cut back on my visits to the butthole doctor.” Richard tried not to visibly flush, but it was difficult. “Anyway, my general practitioner suggested I try this!” Richard forced himself not to jerk away in anxiety when Jared opened the bag, but what he pulled out was just a small blue glass jar.

“What is it?”

“It’s a topical cannabinoid ointment! It was described to me as a salve that provides unsurpassed relief for menstrual cramps. But I have high hopes it’ll work on other areas just as well.”

“Oh… kay,” Richard said. His heart had started speeding up the moment Jared uttered the word “butthole.” Something about Jared’s weird innocence, paired with his obvious endurance of equally weirdly-sexualized hardship, stirred a dark urge within him. “So you just like… I mean, it’s for, like… external use?”

“Putting it on might pose a bit of a challenge! Fortunately, I’ve been working on my yoga poses recently. I find Halasana really helps increase flexibility in the hips.”

“Wait,” Richard broke in without thinking. “You mean you’re--going to--” he made an abortive gesture towards his own backside, then blushed. “Alone?”

“Well!” Jared looked surprised, then laughed lightly. “I’m currently single--” Richard’s blush deepened, and he coughed, embarrassed. “And I wouldn’t expect any of the guys to lend a helping hand. It’s a little intimate, after all!” Jared’s expression softened into concern. “Richard. I can’t tell you… it means a great deal to me, just to talk to you about this. These… health issues… are something I don’t usually go into. Even with friends.” He leaned in further to Richard’s side.

Richard swallowed convulsively a few times. “I’m uh. I’m--uh. I don’t think. That you should have to--you know. S-suffer alone. If you’re.” He looked up at Jared imploringly, but Jared just looked confused, and like he was waiting for Richard to continue. “I’m--I’d--I’ll help. I’ll help you. If you, um. If you want.”

“Richard,” Jared breathed. “Do you know what you’re saying?” Richard’s blush deepened; he felt sweat starting to bead at his hairline, on the back of his neck.

“I think… I wanna help. I mean it. I mean--I don’t want to overstep--you know, your like--your boundaries or whatever--”

“No!” Jared’s hand came up to his own throat. “Oh, Richard. I’d--I’d be very happy for you to… help me. As long as you’re sure. As long as it’s not too much to ask--”

“Just tell me when.” Richard felt like his fate was sealed. His heart was beating double-time. “And I’ll, um. Be there. For you.”

___

Richard’s heart still hadn’t settled down by that evening. He had spent the better part of the afternoon pacing in his bedroom, alternately trying to talk himself out of… whatever he had agreed to, and trying to convince himself there was nothing strange about going through with it. Just two guys, he told himself. Just two guys, who are friends, one of whom is giving the other a hand. With his medical issues. His medical… ass issues. Jesus.

His head was still spinning, but he knocked diffidently on the server room/garage/Jared’s bedroom door at 10 pm, the time they had settled on. “Jared?” he called.

“Come in,” the muffled voice on the other side of the door answered. “I’m just getting ready.” Richard took another deep breath, pushed open the door.

Jared was lying on his side, hips canted slightly, one knee bent up. Richard swallowed hard. He hadn’t--somehow, despite his mental preparations, he hadn’t thought he would be so affected. But the tender vulnerability of Jared’s posture made his mouth go dry with anxiety, with the immediate and familiar terror that he would be inadequate, unable to fulfill this simple, weird thing he had been asked to do.

Jared looked up at him over his sharp shoulder. Richard burned to put his lips against the high point of it, kiss all the way down his collarbone. His expression shifted slightly. Are you sure, he seemed to be saying. Richard knew Jared would never hold it against him if he turned tail and fled, would forgive him almost no matter what he did. His pulse pounded dully in his ears, knowing how unworthy he was of that preemptive forgiveness, of Jared’s habitual gentleness.

“The ointment is on my bedside table,” Jared said, and Richard started. Steeled himself. Took one step closer, then another.

He knelt on the very edge of Jared’s bed. There would barely be room for both of them if Jared weren’t so slender, if he weren’t accommodating himself so clearly to Richard’s presence and needs. Jared’s eyes were still on his face, watching him, he thought, for any sign of uncertainty. He made no motion to move, so Richard took another breath, reached over his body to the little bedside table.

“Whoopi & Maya’s Medical Cannabis Rub,” he read, half-under his breath. “Is this… I guess this is it.” He almost dropped the little jar, but managed to recover, scooted back to the far corner of Jared’s narrow bed. “Um,” he started, immediately running out of steam. “Are you… I mean. Maybe I--uh. I’ll just--”

“Richard,” Jared said gently. “You know you don’t have to do this. You’ve already done so much, just by listening to me. Being there for me. This is really--so much. You don’t know how much it means, just to have you offer.”

Richard’s face flushed with a species of shame. “No--Jared. Listen. I meant it. You shouldn’t--I’m just--I really meant it. What I said. I’m… I’m here for you.” He unscrewed the cap on the jar of salve, fingers trembling just slightly. Jared sighed softly, his eyes fluttering shut then flickering back to fix on Richard’s. Without breaking eye contact, wordlessly, Jared reached down and slowly slid his briefs down over his ass.

Okay, Richard thought. I can do this. I’m doing this. I’m doing this… for him. He felt his throat start to seize up, gulped as quietly as he could manage. Reached out, his hand hesitating over the pale curve of Jared’s tiny ass. Jared sucked in a breath, and Richard had to pause, sternly told his dick to calm the fuck down, and let his palm finally come to rest, twitching slightly, on Jared’s upthrust hipbone.

Jared huffed out a little breath. “Just scoop out a little of the ointment,” he said. “You might want to warm it up a little bit between your hands. Then--if you’re sure you don’t mind--you can just. Rub it in.”

Richard nodded, looked down at his own hand on Jared’s hip, nodded again. He dipped his fingers into the jar. The salve inside was silky-smooth, faintly scented of weed and apricot. He rubbed a little bit between his forefinger and thumb, then slowly, hesitantly, reached down to his ass.

“Oh… oh, that’s good…” Jared’s voice brought Richard back to himself. He shivered, tried to focus. Tried not to picture what it would be like to slip his dick in, maybe even just the tip, just feel Jared from the inside--

“Oh,” Jared murmured again, then bent his leg up a little more, spreading himself a bit more, opening for Richard’s touch. Fuck, so hot, he thought, unable to stop himself.

He rubbed over Jared’s hole with the tips of two fingers, emboldened by Jared’s little sounds of pleasure, then up the cleft of his ass all the way to his tailbone. Jared looked back at him again over his shoulder; his eyes were half-lidded, mouth a little open. Richard thought he might never jerk off to any other fantasy again. “You like that,” he whispered. Not a question, not even something he had meant to say. But Jared nodded, lips still parted. Richard wondered how best to adjust his hard-on without drawing too much attention to himself.

He dipped his fingers back into the little jar of salve, scooped out more than enough. Rubbed a circle around Jared’s hole, watching the salve melt upon contact with the hot skin, the tight muscle fluttering under his fingertips, almost like it was inviting him inside. Begging him, almost.

The blood-warm, melted salve trickled down Jared’s perineum, dripped over his smooth balls, onto his inner thigh. Richard wanted to follow its path with his tongue. He wondered, distantly, if he was getting a contact high--but really he knew he was getting high off of doing this for Jared, off of feeling his responsive moans, touching his hot skin. He thought he should maybe ask Jared what the medically-recommended dosage was, whether he should stop: but he was selfishly hoarding every moment of this contact, unwilling to end it.

“Oh--Richard--I’m--” Jared gasped suddenly. Richard’s fingers came to a stuttering halt. He leaned in over Jared’s shoulder.

“Am I hurting you?” he managed to ask.

“No--” Jared said. His face was half-hidden in the thin pillow. “It’s--Richard, it’s so good. What you’re doing. It feels so good--you should--” He raised his face from the pillow and Richard jerked back a little. Jared’s eyes were wet with tears.

“You should stop. You shouldn’t--feel that you have to continue. I’m…” Jared stopped, closed his eyes, clearly trying to master himself. Richard leaned back in, his slick fingers drifting up the curve of Jared’s tiny ass. Jared moaned again, eyes still closed. A tear escaped, sliding down his flushed cheek, and Richard, without stopping to think, brushed it away with the thumb of his clean hand.

“I wanna make you feel good,” he whispered hoarsely. He knew it was deeply selfish--that he should heed Jared’s wishes--but he didn’t want to, maybe couldn’t stop himself. “I wanna keep going. You feel…” His slick hand slipped back down, fingers pressing against Jared’s asshole. “You feel so fucking good. I wanna help you.”

“Oh--Richard--” Before either of them could speak again, Richard started caressing the little muscle again, feeling it pucker and release against the pads of his fingers. Jared moaned again, helplessly. His hips rocked back against the gentle, insistent pressure. “Mmm--I’m--”

Richard’s erection was uncomfortably confined in his jeans, but he couldn’t make himself move to readjust. Jared’s right leg, crooked up to give Richard better access, partially shielded his own hard-on from view, but the heat coming off of him, the energy, was enough to drive Richard out of his mind, whatever was left of it. He kept circling his fingers, stroking Jared slowly, insistently, up and down and then around; then, stealing a look at Jared’s face, he pressed inside, as slowly and gently as he could manage.

Jared made a sound that Richard had never heard before, in his variously-disappointing encounters with women. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and his dick, already painfully hard in his jeans, didn’t fail to take notice.

“Oh, Richard! Oh--”

“Tell me if I’m hurting you,” Richard said, half-desperate. “Tell me if this is--if you want me to stop--”

“Mmm--oh--it’s so--”

Only the very tips of his fingers were inside, but the heat and the pressure, the satin-smoothness, were driving him insane. “Oh fuck,” Richard heard himself say, as if from outside himself. He had no idea what he was doing, really; not just in the sense of what he was doing in Jared’s bed, but even the basics of fingering someone’s asshole, what to do to make it pleasurable. He had never done anal with a girl before. He had never, despite some uncomfortably pertinent urges, fucked a guy before. He withdrew his fingers, as gently as he could, watching in awe as the little muscle twitched itself back closed.

Jared was looking at him again, his lips parted again. He looked… debauched. Richard petted him a little awkwardly on his pale flank, and he shivered all over.

“Are you feeling it?” Richard asked in a whisper. He meant the weed extract, or pure THC, or whatever in this salve was supposed to be making it medicinal and not just expensive celebrity lube. Jared’s lashed dipped in a slow flutter; he licked his lips. Richard’s neglected dick twitched in his jeans.

“I feel you,” he said. Richard almost groaned out loud. He reached up, grabbed the jar, scooped out another dollop of salve. Reached down, let it drip onto Jared’s ass. The head of Jared’s dick (cut, rosy pink) bobbed, just seen over the line of his long thigh. Richard’s mouth filled with saliva; he had to swallow before he could speak again.

“Can I, um. Can I touch you here, too?” His hand hovered over Jared’s thigh, unwilling to do anything Jared didn’t want, anything that might break the spell enwrapping them both. But then Jared’s hand came down on his, pressed it against his hard-on, and they both moaned.

Richard felt entranced, just watching himself and Jared moving together: the fingers of one hand rubbing steadily over his hole, sliding slickly through the cleft of his ass; his other hand wrapped around Jared’s dick, stroking him there, trying to keep his rhythm steady; and all the while Jared’s hips rolling against the dual pressure, his hands fisted in the sheets; his cries, half-muffled in the pillow, a rising chant of “Ahh--ahh--ahh,” gaining in intensity.

“Oh, Richard! Oh--don’t stop--” He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to, Richard thought. This was--beyond what he might have imagined, anything he might have once found erotic.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he blurted. “Your fucking--your fucking goddamn butthole feels so good.”

Jared gasped, then jerked back against Richard’s hands, his caressing fingers. His back arched, all his muscles tensing; a long, ragged cry was torn from his throat, and a moment later Richard’s hand was thoroughly, irrefutably wet with another man’s come.

Just two guys, Richard thought, dazed, Jared still panting, gasping under his hands. Just two friends. Just helping each other.

#jarrich #my writing #take me to the butthole doctor

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