#INTEL CORPORATION

[retrocgads]

UK 1998

[townpostin]

RVS College of Engineering and Technology Inaugurates AI Skills Lab in Partnership with Dell and Intel

New AI Skills Lab at RVS College of Engineering and Technology, Jamshedpur, aims to enhance digital education and prepare students for future challenges. In a significant step towards innovative education, RVS College of Engineering and Technology, Jamshedpur, has partnered with Dell Technologies and Intel Corporation to inaugurate an advanced AI Skills Lab. JAMSHEDPUR – RVS College of…

[elena-bellver]

¡Regalos de chocolate originales! smartphones, un BMW Z3 Roadster o “candados del amor” como los de la novela de Federico Moccia.

[engineering-colleges-aimt]

Accurate Institute congratulates Mr.Yash Dixit, an Electrical and Electronics Engineering (EEE) student, for adding another feather to our cap on getting selected by Intel Corporation as a Physical Design Engineer.

[techtimechronicles24]

🇺🇲 Step back in time and explore the fascinating journey of the IBM PS/1—a pioneering computer that revolutionized personal computing in the late 1980s and early 1990s!

💻 The IBM PS/1, short for Personal System/1, marked a significant milestone in the evolution of home computing. Launched by IBM in 1990, this innovative machine was designed to bring the power and versatility of IBM's business computers into the homes of consumers.

💾 With its sleek and compact design, the IBM PS/1 was a departure from the bulky and intimidating computers of the past. It featured a built-in monitor, keyboard, and mouse, making it a convenient all-in-one solution for home users.

⚙️ Under the hood, the IBM PS/1 boasted impressive specifications for its time, including an Intel 80286 or 80386 processor, up to 16MB of RAM, and a variety of storage options ranging from floppy disks to hard drives. This formidable hardware allowed users to run productivity software, play games, and explore the emerging world of multimedia with ease.

💡 One of the most notable features of the IBM PS/1 was its user-friendly interface, which made it accessible to users of all skill levels. With its intuitive graphical user interface and pre-installed software, including IBM's own software suite and educational programs, the IBM PS/1 opened up new possibilities for home computing.

📈 Despite facing stiff competition from other manufacturers, the IBM PS/1 enjoyed moderate success and helped pave the way for the widespread adoption of personal computers in homes around the world. Its influence can still be felt today in the countless households that rely on computers for work, entertainment, and communication.

🚀 The IBM PS/1 may have been a product of its time, but its legacy lives on as a testament to the transformative power of technology. As we continue to push the boundaries of computing, let us not forget the humble beginnings of the IBM PS/1 and the role it played in shaping the digital world we know today.

[obessivedork]

I know she doesn't have MY level of understanding of the Brotherhood of Steel (has played every Fallout game but that forgotten BoS ?playstation? one and read almost every piece of lore I can get my grubby hands on) but I like to think my Sole Survivor hears that it's somewhat military and IMMEDIATELY can clock the prewar US in its origins, even before anyone gives her a history lesson, just from how Danse and his team talk and behave.

[vgetit]

Lenovo Intel Xeon Gold 5115 Deca-core (10 Core) 2.40 GHz Processor Upgra...

[retrocgads]

UK 1998

[the-californicationist]

he opens the mail

Captain Price opens a package, thinking it’s intel, but it’s a sex pollen. The only cure? Your pussy, apparently.

Warning: sex pollen tropes, extremely dubious consent, attempt at satire?, angry john price

“We’re never going to make this deadline. Laswell’s gonna kill me,” you complained, burying your head in the pile of envelopes and packages strewn over your desk. 

“Did this to yourself, lass. Shoulda been keepin’ up with intel duty. Wee bit at a time, ‘s what I say,” Soap patted you on the shoulder, feigning pity. 

You spent hours combing through the documents, and by the time everyone had gone to bed, your fingers were covered in paper cuts, and your vision was blurry from squinting at the poorly scrawled Cyrillic words. 

You thought you were alone, and as you stood up to stretch and refill your coffee mug, Captain Price opened up the office door, scaring you half to death. 

“Oh, hey Corporal,” he smiled and then furrowed his brow, “What are you still doing here?”

You sighed, pointing to the piles of documents,

“Laswell’s intel backlog. I’m the only one with a Level 3 linguistics cert for Russian, so here I am. Gonna be an all-nighter.”

He closed the door and sat down across from your seat, digging into the pile, 

“I’m Level 3. Let’s finish it.”

“Captain, you don’t have to do that. I’m sure you’ve got more important things…”

Price shook his head, taking off his hat and hanging it on the chair back,

“Nah, tha’s alright, love. I’ll help ya. Get us a tea, yeah?”

You knew how he took his tea, and you hated that you did. Secretly, you were obsessed with him. He was always around, smelling like balsam wood and tobacco, looking like a gladiator, huge and capable in the most masculine way. It was hard to concentrate when he was nearby. Now that he had offered to help, you had to grin and bear it. 

You worked together for a while, chatting, even laughing. It was nice. You had so much in common, the conversation flowed easily, and you found yourself much more at ease. Finally, three packages remained. You opened the first one and found little more than phone records for a local library. Unhelpful to say the least. Price opened a water bill, and he recognized the address of a recent Konni base location. Any intel at this point felt like a celebration. Then, the final box. 

“Go on then. Show us the ending,” he smiled, handing it to you. 

“Couldn’t take the joy of ripping up the last letter, Captain. Be my guest,” you smiled. 

He chuckled, tearing into the envelope. In a flash, bright pink powder sprayed him directly in the eyes, and he writhed in pain, pinching them shut, his whole body going stiff. 

“Fuck me!” He shouted. 

“Hang on,” you ran over to the sink in the kitchenette, “Here’s some water. Get that shit out of your eyes.”

“Don’t,” he moved away from you like you were on fire, “Don’t touch me. Might be contagious.”

Your chest was rising and falling with your labored breathing, and you were immediately worried. You reached for your phone and called Laswell.

“Laswell, Price got anthraxed by one of the intel letters. What do you want us to do?”

She gasped, 

“What? Shit. I’m on my way.”

She hung up on you. You watched Price slowly try to open his eyes. They were stained hot pink from the powder. 

“You alright?” You asked him. 

“Yeah, love,” he sighed, “Doesn’t hurt anymore. Feeling strange though. Laswell said she’s coming?”

You nodded,

“Yeah, just in case.”

He nodded, running his hand along the inside of his collar. The captain was sweaty and a little pale. 

“Captain, are you okay?”

“Mmm, no,” he shook his head, “Something’s not right, love.”

He stood and went to the sink, washing as much of the powder off as he could. You moved away from him and stationed yourself across the room, praying for Laswell to hurry. 

Price was in a bad way. He took off his shirt, and he was still dripping with beads of sweat. You tried not to stare, but his temperature wasn’t the only thing heating up. His huge cock was making a prominent tent in his pants, but he was in too much pain to bother hiding it. You felt yourself blushing, and you willed yourself to pull it together. 

“…fuckin’ hell,” his hand went to his crotch to squeeze his length, trying to find some relief, “Sorry, love.”

“It’s okay,” you said politely, trying to breathe normally, but feeling the slick rush melt between your legs. 

“It’s makin’ me…feel…bloody hell. I can’t hold it off. Can…can you…? No! No, what the fuck am I sayin’? No,” he shook his head, rubbing his hands down his face, hot and very bothered. 

You inched closer to him,

“If I haven’t been affected yet, I’m sure it’s okay. How should I help you?”

“No! No, stay back. I’m not…I can’t think straight. My mind’s got one thing on it,” he shoved his hands beyond his zipper and began to jerk himself off, his dick making lurid noises with his hand. 

You hated seeing him so helpless. You moved to his side,

“Cap, it’s okay. Let me help you.”

His hand was around your throat in milliseconds. Price shoved you against the wall and began to kiss your mouth, furiously laving his tongue against yours. 

“No, no, no,” he whispered through his kisses, not bothering to pull away as he spoke his lamentations. 

You made the mistake of putting your hands on his chest to steady yourself. He moaned, trembling beneath your touch,

“Ahh, careful.”

“Sorry,” you pulled your hands away, still trapped in his firm grip around your neck, “did I hurt you?”

“No, doesn’t hurt.”

He said it in a way that darkly implied your touch was igniting a different kind of fire. You put your hands back where they were, and his eyes shot open, piercing through yours with a lustful rage. Unexpectedly, he ripped off your shirt and lay you down on the black leather couch in the corner of the office. He crushed you with his weight, kissing you deeply. 

Then, your phone rang. He didn’t allow you to pause, so it went to voicemail. It rang again. You were getting just as hot as he was, and you weren’t that interested in who was looking for you in the middle of the night. Until, however, the door to the office burst wide open and Laswell and Gaz burst through it. 

Price snarled. You’d never heard a man make that noise before. Laswell put her hands on her hips while Gaz tried to shield his face in shock. Laswell rubbed her forehead, frustrated,

“Are his eyes pink, Corporal?”

You escaped his jaws for a moment, 

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s a sex drug. Forces the user to fornicate as it is only passed through the body in seminal fluid, dissolving in the heat of another person’s body. Are you volunteering here? What happened?”

Her tone was so matter of fact, it was a little humorous, if Price’s length wasn’t rutting against you in earnest, you might've laughed. You tried to explain as much as he would allow,

“Got too close… just… happened. How…” you moaned as Price pulled down the strap of your bra and helped himself to your nipple, “How did you know?”

She sighed, typing something into her datapad,

“Checked the incident log from this afternoon. Four more cases of this have popped up in intel collections. Gonna have to screen for it next time.”

She turned to walk out of the office with Gaz, and you called after her,

“Hey, wait! How long does it - oh, fuck… how long does it last?”

Laswell had the audacity to smirk at you, raising her eyebrows and cutting her eyes at Price’s swollen cock, lolling out of his pants, scraping itself against you. 

“Eight hours. Looks like you’re in for a rough night, Corporal. Maybe next time you’ll be more careful.”

Part 2

[digitalfilipina]

ZTE Releases New G5 Series Servers To Boost Digital Economy

ZTE Corporation, a global leading provider of information and communication technology solutions, recently launched the fourth-generation Intel® Xeon® Scalable Processor (Sapphire Rapids)-based G5 series servers in Beijing. A company committed to boosting the digital economy, ZTE released five types of servers, including the 5200 G5 high-density server, R5300 G5 full-scenario universal server,…

[digitalfossils]

Intel Corporation 1994 Annual Report

[marasmadness]

hii could you possibly do a jj x emily x reader smut fic where they are protective over her and maybe someone else flirts with her idk 🫶

What We Deserve || J.J x E.P x reader

a/n: changed it slightly bc I kept getting stuck and scrapped this like three times but hope you guys like it :)

CW: dark!jemily x sunshine reader, guns, violence, Emily and JJ turning to revenge, slightest past Emily angst, stalking and sexual harassment (a man who later becomes irrelevant), threesome, age gap, smut, mild gunplay, strap-on sex, oral sex, face-sitting, daddy kink (one time), light choking, praise (she holds your hand and talks you through it🥰)

“I can stay tonight,” you offered up easily, trying to hide the fact that you were incredibly eager at the possibility of not returning home tonight.

Emily looked up from her desk, baffled by why you would ask to spend the night working, and scrutinized your body language with her eyes. This was something Garcia had warned you about when she recommended you for the job position Emily and JJ were trying to fill. They were excellent profilers, or at least formerly, but their old habits never left them.

After the two women turned to a more avenging and under-the-table profession, they turned to Garcia for her usual tech intel, but as she remained a current government employee, she was unable to give them her usual assistance. Instead, she recommended you, “her protégé,” she claimed.

You had offered up your nights to the older woman four times in the last two weeks, which wouldn’t be unusual for a demanding corporate job, but this wasn’t that. The couple worked from their grand home with three offices to exceed all their work needs. You assisted them on the tech side of things and were an expert at tracking people down. In this case, it was usually whatever unpunished psychopath or scumbag they were currently hunting.

“Why don’t you want to ever go home?” Emily questioned, resting the end of her pen on her lip. Her question was in no way rude, despite her consistently assertive tone. She just wanted to know why anyone would rather spend their nights working at a new job with few people to talk to and staring at a mini computer screen than return to a cozy apartment.

“No, it’s not that. I’m just willing to help out here,” you replied, rubbing your knuckles against the fabric of your pencil skirt.

JJ, who was shuffling through a paper trail you just printed out, profiled you cockily without even looking up. “ Lying? Didn’t think you had it in you sunshine,” the blonde quipped.

The "Sunshine" nickname and “Learn that from Garcia?” Jokes have been nonstop since you started. You weren’t sure how much of your demeanor you actually picked up from spending plenty of time with Penelope or if it just stemmed from the fact that you were generally quieter and gentler than the two women who kept guns tucked underneath their blazers at all times.

Emily flicked JJ’s shoulder as she slid behind JJ’s chair to reach a final cabinet, a subtle way of telling her to cut it out, but she couldn’t help the small smirk that crossed her face. She tipped her head toward you, pointing across the hall. “Go grab your work and bring it back here. Shut the lights off on your way back too.”

You quickly pivoted around, treading to the conference room to grab a folder and your laptop. For two vigilantes, they were incredibly organized. You assumed that’s what made them so good, and their FBI experience probably helped. You returned to work in their office, working through the list of wanted profiles and trails for the two women. At some point, Emily appeared behind you, watching as your fingers flew across the keyboard. You restrained your instinct to flinch as her hands grasped your shoulders.

After two hours, the glare of your laptop screen blurred before your eyes. Entirely zoned out, you jumped slightly when Emily’s hands found your shoulders, her breath rushing across your ear. “Go home, rest; it’s late,” the gravelly sound of her voice sounded from just above your shoulder.

“You’re still here working though,” you protested out, pointing out how her and JJ were still camped out at their desks with no intent of leaving anytime soon.

She raised her eyebrow, catching you off guard when she spun your chair around, pressing her knee into the seat beside your thigh. “That was an order. You’re no help if you come back tomorrow sleep-deprived. JJ and I have been on this schedule for years. We’ll sleep when we retire.”

You listened, gathering up your stuff. Your keys jangled against your side as you stopped to linger in the doorway before making your way out to your car.

The streets were pitch black and mostly empty as you drove to the low thrum of the radio. Your fingers bounced anxiously on the steering wheel while pulling into the parking lot beneath your apartment complex. It was late; nobody would still be out and about, and your trip up to the 3rd floor would be uninterrupted. You reassured yourself. You were right to some extent. The stairwells were empty and a little eerie.

Your hand closed around your doorknob when the reason you were reluctant to return home called out, making you flinch in the dark. “Late night?”

“Mhm,” you replied dismissively while hurriedly fumbling for your keys. You could see his silhouette in his shadow as he stepped out of his apartment and turned down the hall toward yours.

“What kept you out late?”

“Just work.” You didn’t look up, pushing your door open roughly. Slipping inside, you were a second too slow. ”Good night, Ro,” you said sternly, attempting to close the door as he appeared in your doorway. Your heart started thumping in your chest as his palm slapped against the already splintering door.

“Hey, wait up, what’s the rush?” He grinned, holding his weight against the door to keep it open. You froze, only able to keep the door at the crack it was, and no further. Too focused on your sweaty hands gripping the door, you missed the soft clicking pair of footsteps until it was too late.

Two strong hands engulfed your body, one sliding around your waist and pulling you against a warm torso, and the other expertly clamping down on your mouth. Your eyes darted back and forth, catching a whirl of raven hair between you and the door. Without your half of the balancing act, the door slammed up against the wall, leaving Ro and the stranger in your apartment facing off.

“May I help you sweetheart?” A sickly sweet and familiar voice rang out, throwing your stalkerish neighbor for a loop. Emily.

You were dragged backward slightly, out of view, forcefully but not violently. A blond wave of hair fell over your shoulder, and vanilla perfume became mixed in with your heavy breaths. Emily, and JJ.

Ro suddenly stepped back into the hallway. ”Who the hell are you? Wait, you were on the news. You were in the FBI.”

“Catching on so quickly,” Emily taunted while revealing her gun from her side, raising it casually. “Step inside, close the door behind you, scream and you won’t make it back out alive,” she instructed, waving the barrel of the gun as she spoke.

He obeyed, if only out of obvious terror. JJ stepped out of the shadows with you in her grasp. Out of angry instinct, he lurched toward you. “Crazy bitch.”

JJ defensively tightened her bicep around your body, moving you behind her. She and Emily moved as one fluid, deadly unit. Sharp, efficiently placed pressure on Ro’s shoulders from Emily made him drop to the floor like a fly, his knees cracking against the floor. The point of JJ’s boot dug into the flesh of his leg, threateningly close to his crotch.

Emily was back to looming over him, hands steady as she clicked the gun against his temple. ”Here’s how this is going to work. We managed to find video footage of you breaking into this apartment, stalking, and harassing, and that’s just the surface—things that we found in seconds. If, and that’s a questionable if you leave here alive, so will we, because if you turn us in, we turn you in, and with all the cameras disabled in this apartment, who are the courts more likely to believe former FBI agents who left peacefully and with high credibility, or you?” Silence. “That’s what I thought. You’ll also be ending your lease within the next 24 hours, and I highly suggest your next place be at least 25 miles from this apartment. Last but not least, apologize.”

You saw him wince at the pressure from the weapon or Emily’s voice as he looked up at you from the ground.

“ I-, I’m sorry! Ah!” He yelled out as Emily knicked the side of his head.

“Do fucking better, and I’m not one to dish out third chances, so make it good.”

You nearly blacked out at the scene unfolding in front of you. His apology played like a distant voiceover in your head; JJ’s hands felt hot against your skin; and you didn’t even start to leave this dazed state until Emily was forcefully leading your now-former neighbor out of your apartment.

Emily guided you toward the back of your apartment while JJ locked it up, not before surveying the hallway twice.

Flicking on a dim light, Emily braced herself against the doorframe as you turned around to face her. “So, “I can totally work late,” was actually Mr. insecure fucking stalker?” She prodded, adding a slight imitation of your voice into her tone.

“He wasn’t a stalker; he was just gross and pushy. He asked me out when he first moved in; I said no, and he never really let it go,” you explained in an attempt to descalate.

Emily scoffed, removing her blazer as she invited herself to sit down on your bed with her hands pressed into her thighs. “Honey, he intercepted you every time you came home, couldn’t take no for an answer, and knew your schedule by heart. Why didn’t you just tell JJ or me? We could’ve handled it.”

You circled around the room, still attempting to process what had happened. “Okay, and by handled, do you mean go fucking insane?” You asked in a raised whisper, tangling your almost-twitching fingers in your hair. “You cannot just pull a gun out from underneath your blazer and hold it to someone’s head while your wife threatens them with credentials she no longer even has!”

Emily stood up quickly, untucking her blouse from her pants with her sharp movements. “And he can’t just monitor your life and push his way into your apartment!” She shot back with fire in her tone. You seemed to have hit a nerve. Your best guess was that wherever this anger was coming from, it also had to do with whatever reason she left the BAU for, something she had yet to reveal to you. “He had no right, and you’re not responsible for his actions. Look at me,” she commanded, tipping your chin toward her gaze with two fingers. “Even if you said yes, he would still behave as he always has, as a creeping coward. I spent my whole career chasing carbon copies of men like him. Nothing will change their sense of entitlement from believing they deserve women who they could never appreciate or understand.” Finishing, her chest rose up and down with emotion as you remained still in her grip.

“Is that why you quit?” You asked, slightly steering the conversation back toward her. “Because of people getting what they didn’t understand or deserve?”

“Yes, I was tired of having to put people I cared about or wanted to care about,” she added, refocusing on you, “in danger and not being able to be the one who served repercussions.”

Feelings you had pushed down since day 1 rose up in your throat. “And have you ever contemplated what you deserve?” you asked as a more relaxed smile curled on her lips.

She nodded as her eyes flickered down your skin. Her forehead glistened with unexpired anger and effort as she swiped a piece of damp hair from it.

“And what’s that?” you asked. Moving your hands backwards, they landed on the dresser, feeling as if the space between you and Emily was growing closer and closer, more intoxicatingly suffocating.

“You.” JJ’s smooth and confident voice filled in the blank for Emily, and you felt your entire body flush with warmth. She had been walking by the door with silent steps and filled in the rest with context. While her calm and mildly seductive reaction to the scene surprised you, it only made Emily grin, curling her fingers to invite the blonde into the room as she shut the door behind her. Emily had seen the way her wife’s gaze soaked in your body the first day you stepped in the door with a bright smile, making her hungrily sink her teeth into her lip. Emily admittedly had quite a similar reaction.

Distracted by JJ’s appearance, you hadn’t noticed Emily’s shift until you felt her body press up behind you and her lips dance across your neck. Removing her gun from her side, you expected her to put it on the nightstand beside you, so you were taken aback when she pressed the edge up against your ribs, leaving you to feel the cool metal through the thin material of your shirt. All the air left your lungs as she slowly dragged it up your skin, her deep red-painted nails leaving a trail of scratches in their wake. The barrel of the gun followed the curve of your chin until she used to tip to guide your gaze up to hers. Trust me, at least for tonight.” She placed the gun on your nightstand with dangerous amusement flashing across her eyes.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she pulled you between her legs, unbuttoning your shirt with nimble fingers until it slipped off your shoulders. Slipping her hands beneath the hem of your skirt, her fingers grazed against the skin of your lower belly, the cold metal of her rings making you tense.

She slowly and seductively removed the rest of your clothes, taking her sweet time to soak in every inch of your body. You followed her lead as she charmingly held out her hand to help you climb up and kneel on the mattress. She followed, settling at the top of the bed. “Come up here; let me taste you.” She rapped your thighs until you were straddled over her body. Her suave confidence and eagerness to aid in your pleasure were new to you and created a confusing knot of feelings in your stomach. Your knuckles turned white with your grip on the headboard, holding yourself up delicately.

Emily wet her lips, curving them into a smile. “Sit means actually sit, love.” Her hands gripped the back of your legs, dragging your throbbing cunt onto her mouth. A satisfied groan left her lips, vibrating through you.

Behind you, JJ’s nonchalance surprised you. In every other environment, she was incredibly overprotective. In this case, both the people she was ever overprotective of were right in front of her, so she was happy to pour a drink, sit back and watch… or at least for a moment.

Through your muffled thoughts brought on by Emily’s lips wrapping around your clit and her hands kneading at the flesh of your thighs, you heard JJ’s glass clink on the table before her hands appeared on your body. You felt the mattress sink beneath you as she climbed up on the bed behind you, cupping your breasts in her hands as her lips trailed along your neck. “If I’m gonna let you fuck my wife, I think it’s only appropriate that I get something as well, don’t you, doll?” She murmured, her breath leaving a trail of warmth along your skin, until she found your mouth, sinking her teeth into your bottom lip. A soft whine escaped as she pulled away, taking her touch with her, and sat down next to you.

Your knuckles grew white against the headboard as Emily’s tongue curled against the walls of your tongue, drawing you closer and closer to a shattering orgasm. JJ, next to you was only contributing to your arousal as she undressed herself and raked her long, blond hair out of her face with a ravenous look. Your body tensed on quivering thighs resting on either side of Emily’s head as she pulled your cunt down in her mouth, flattening her tongue against your sensitive nerve. A stew of moans and expletives fell from your lips as you coated her tongue, and she looked up with a slick, lopped grin as if she had just won a trophy.

Without more than half a breath, she was up and directing you between JJ’s legs, driven by lust-induced vigor. “Eat her out,” she commanded with a soft air of confidence.

Focused on pleasuring JJ, you only caught a blur of Emily in your peripheral vision, slipping out of black work pants and letting her belt hit the ground. Arched between JJ’s legs, she secured her feet over your shoulders, trapping your head between toned thighs as you delved into her cunt. The blonde’s head sank back with a guttural moan as you circled and sucked at her clit.

You stuttered as Emily caught you off guard, dragging her fingers down your spine until she squeezed your ass. JJ’s hands found their way into your hair, guiding your back down between her legs with a sickly soft tone, but you didn’t miss the smirk shot at Emily over her head. “Focus baby, okay? Don’t worry about her.”

You listened, far into the hazy trance of the women surrounding you. As your tongue roamed JJ’s pussy you could feel Emily’s grasp on your hips, positioning them to her likely, and then what came as a startle from your lack of awareness was the silicon texture of her thick strap gently teasing your entrance as you brought her wife closer and closer to an orgasm.

She pistoned the faux-cock inside of you, and you choked out a gasp that made JJ’s hips stutter as she arched her back off the mattress. “Fuck, almost there, doll, let me come on your tongue.” Her words slowly morphed into pants as she reached her climax, with a heaving chest and a tight grip on your hair. Her legs relaxed on your shoulder as Emily continued thrusting into you, the slight ridges of her strap against your walls leaving you gripping at JJ with desperation. JJ found your hands. Running her thumbs across your knuckles with soft praise. “Come for daddy, baby,” she mumbled into her forward before leaning up into Emily’s brief breathless kiss. Your three sheening bodies were intertwined in various ways. The room was filled with obscene noises and sounds from the lingering exhaustion of pleasure.

With close attention, JJ caught on when you were close, using two fingers to drag your chin upwards, forcing you to look her in the eye as your juices coated Emily’s cock. As you came, Emily’s hand wrapped lightly around your throat, adding an extra starry haze to your orgasm. You collapsed in a euphoric state on JJ’s lap. She chuckled at your fucked-out state, running her hands through your hair. Emily wore a similar smile of satisfaction as she left a trail of light kisses down the back of your legs. She was the one to get up and go to the bathroom, preparing to help the three of you clean up and collapse back onto your queen-sized bed in a dreamlike sleep.

[diejager]

Only Human

Pairing : Monster Task Force 141 x reader

Cw : canon-typical violence, bodies, death, blood, cannibalism?, wounds, trauma.

Wc : 3.2k

Note: the designs for the Monster 141 came from @bluegiragi

Only Human masterlist

When Laswell, a known figure in the Intel gathering ranks of the CIA and military, had called you for your new transfer, you were ecstatic about it. You showed up casually, still in your vest and whole attire from your deployment, you were told that Laswell was waiting for you in her office once you took your first step. You only had time to drop off your weapons in the armory before going straight to her office.

You were personally asked to join a Task Force, not another squad or team under a Captain, which you hadn't expected; an international Task Force to boot, it shocked you, even more, to have been asked to have you on a Task Force that spanned nations wide. The radar must've been wide for it to be an international one, important and specialized soldiers were probably the ones who were invited - green berets, if you guessed.

You were excited, though, to have the honour of joining specialized soldiers with only being a corporal.

"Which Task Force, ma'am?" you asked, back straight with your hands crossed behind your back.

"The 141, Hunter."

Your composure almost slipped, your mind buzzed with excitement and confusion at the notice. The 141 was a reputed group, having members from the United Kingdom to the Americas and allies in the south, around Urzikstan, and perhaps farther. They took down Major Hassan, killing the heart of Al-Qatala and weeding out traitors like General Sheperd and Graves' PMC, the Shadows. A closed group with secrets only they knew and would take to the grave, a tight-knit Task Force.

You've heard of some members, none being human. The Ghost - or Ghost - a wraith hybrid of some sort, as dangerous as he was respectable. He was the better known one, a popular topic from one's lips to the other, gossip and rumors about him being more monster than human. While some were harmless, others were made to be racists - or xenophobic in some rarer cases - most were gossip, exaggerated depictions of the man people feared and admired.

You were jumping under your skin for the day to pass faster, for your transfer to happen more quickly. You couldn't wait to meet your new teammates, you've heard good and bad things about them. Some were sociable, others shy or downright menacing to look and interact with (perhaps they specifically meant Ghost).

You've always wanted to work with monsters, the majority of the military was made up of human men and women with a low, low (around 5%) being monsters, creatures of the night that made them stronger, faster, and better than humans, but they were often hunted until the last decades.

You, however, expected that half of the Task Force was made up of humans, and the rest monsters. You were wrong, really wrong. The moment you stepped out, you realized how unfortunate - maybe fortunate to be stuck with broad, strong, and handsome men - you were to be the sole human. Perhaps it was the shock or the honour that made you freeze and shy away, but neither of them could make you feel as prepared as you should be for officially joining them.

"Welcome to the Task Force, Hunter!" Price yelled over the beating blades of the helicopter, blue eyes staring at you with a - sinful, you found it sinfully handsome - smile hidden under his beard. He also had a green tail that followed behind him, a long, strong tail, you mustn't forget that.

The first ones you talked to were Soap and Rudolfo, two jokesters within the group. Soap was cute, having almost a puppy-like excitement at meeting you with the way he greeted you, smiling and laughing boisterously. He was loud and warm when you first talked to him.

Rodolfo, or Rudy as he told you to call him (you stuck with Rodolfo, feeling too intrusive to call him by his lovely nickname), was Mexican, a special forces, just like everyone else in the TF. He was as warm as the Mexican sun, funny, and soft-spoken.

They had an accent, one a light Mexican and the other a deep Scottish slur in his words. Rudolfo incorporated Spanish words in his sentences, easily understood but adorable nonetheless. Soap's Scottish accent was thicker, deep with his jargon that you sometimes questioned if he was even speaking English.

You only found out that they were monsters when they were training outside. You watched Soap turn from under the shades, eyes keen on his rippling muscles and cracking bones. His jaw shifted, it grew longer and his ears pointed up, light brown fur sprouted from his skin and his mohawk traveled farther, turning into a mane. You could hear the whines and grunts from his transformation.

A werewolf, you learned. He had enhanced strength. He became more durable and agile. He had accelerated healing, almost ten times the speed of regular men, and his senses seemed to have heightened significantly. It looked painful, you concluded so from the bodily sounds and his moans. The heat he exhumed was searing hot, it turned the air around him into mist, burning the water in the air and turning it into gas.

Soap had heard you gasp and awe at his form, broader and taller, he towered over you when he stood on his hind legs. His eyes glowed a vibrant blue when they met yours, waiting and gauging your reaction, but he could only see awe and admiration, perhaps a dash of excitement beneath your gaping expression.

He padded towards you, lurching forward and sending you tumbling on your back as his tongue lolled to the side and hung from his panting maw. His shoulders shook, abdomen flexing rapidly, it looked like he was laughing. At your reaction, or you, you didn't know, all you had in kind wa the urge to touch him. He looked so soft.

It was ironic in some sense, for the man - now creature - who feared dogs to be a werewolf, a larger, more dangerous, and fantastical counterpart to the domesticated dog.

"Can I pet you?" the words fell from your lips before you knew it, your face flushed and your body seized in embarrassment.

Soap huffed and pushed his snout to your shoulder, lowering his head in approval. He would let you pet him, and you took it without complaint. His fur and mane were soft, maybe the softest you've ever touched (you grew up hunting with your father, you knew for as well as any other hunter). It was soft and silky, he had taken great care in his grooming.

He let out a satisfied rumble when he saw you smile, a childish wonder in your eyes. You were so captivated by Soap's looming form over you that you almost forgot about Rudolfo - keyword: almost. Something wet had nudged your elbow, you turned and saw a smaller dog, ghostly pale with glimmering, blue gems for eyes. It looked like a mix of a lab and a shepherd, the combination making this white dog adorable.

Your eyes observed the whole length of it, from its head to its tail, a long whisp-like swirl that turns blur at the end. It connected the dog to Rodolfo. You didn't know what the dog was. Was it a spirit? Or was it a familiar?

"Cadejos, Hunter," Rudolfo answered your silent question, smirking at your petting the spirit with one hand while the other scratched behind Soap's twitching ear. "Dog spirits. I'm their vessel."

That meant he was more human than Soap was, perhaps almost as you. You still gave him an awed look, amazed by the possibility of becoming a vessel for mythological beings and spirits.

You only truly found out whether or not Ghost was human or a monster on a mission. You were sent along with a team led by your Lieutenant to capture a standing AQ cell, one of the few that still stood without their leader.

You were, along with other sergeants, corporals, and privates, separated into two teams, Alpha and Bravo, one led by a sergeant and the other by Ghost. He had you follow him close, a way to watch how you did on the field. You made quick work of them, they were weak, disorganized, and fought with each other when they had no one to lead them. A pity for what used to be a big problem.

You were left on your own, Ghost having gone north to search for something. You had taken down the surviving men, pouncing on them in the dark. When you were done, you wiped your blade on your forearm, cleaning it from the iron stench of blood.

"Could've left one alive, Hunter," Ghost's deep growl made you jump, twisting to meet his dark eyes. They seemed endlessly black, like a void of darkness. "I'm bloody hungry..."

He crept closer, steps slow and purposeful, as if trying to spook you. He stopped before a fresh body, one you muffled and stabbed. The body was still warm, blood pooling from the wound and eyes glossed over with death.

"Hungry, sir?" you asked, unsure of what he meant or if he had muttered it to himself.

He hadn't replied, head turning to examine the rest of the corpses, strewn around you like a gift. A growl rumbled in his chest, mist rolling off his body like a crashing wave. It filled the area around you and tickled your feet in its cold, dark embrace. You watched the fog cover the laying corpses, dissolving and swallowing them into its murkiness.

When he meant by hungry, he actually meant eating humans, you shouldn't have been surprised, a was a wraith hybrid. Spirits of the dead that hate and haunted the living. It made more sense when he told you to let one alive, wraiths preferred living souls, dead ones were still filling but tasted lesser.

"Clean kills, " he finally spoke, his voice a timber lower than it was before his dinner. "Good job, corporal."

You nodded at him, stomach fluttering with his compliment, a praise from such a man - monster - was a prize, something he rarely gave to other soldiers. You smiled under your gaiter, you wore it for better protection in the sandy deserts of Al Mazrah.

"I'll remember leaving some alive next time, L.T."

He craned his head to look at you before he left, eyes squinted in what seemed like a smirk - devilish, you hoped - and gave you a firm nod. You scrambled to follow him, watching his broad, dark back as you walked a few steps behind him. He hadn't spoken a word to you since you got to exfil, but once you landed at the base, he motioned for you to follow him with the jerk of his wrist.

Ghost wasn't so bad if you got past the glaring image of danger he portrayed and the growls he gave. You couldn't wait to work with him again or with the others.

Gaz was a harpy, a very interesting and useful monster to have on your team. He was nice, not as chatty as Soap was, but he talked to you and smiled your way. His caramel-dipped smiles were to die for. He was easy to talk to, by far easier than your lieutenant had been at the start.

You saw him a lot in the rec room, sipping on tea or scrolling through pages on his phone. He was comfortable with you as you were with him, he let his talons out, lounging with his wings across the couch or over your lap as you cleaned them for him. The ever-so-teasing gentleman had a way with his words and his wits, often leaving you flustered or annoyed at his jabs.

Being a harpy meant he was light, bones hollow yet sturdy enough for a human body fitting his strong and slimmer frame. He could fly, and he became much more agile, more so than Soap's werewolf form (birds were naturally more graceful than canines) and he had a telescopic vision, razor-sharp and precise, more than any humans or monsters could have, it rivaled the falcon's keen sight.

If he was so light, agile, and all-seeing, without forgetting he could fly, how did he manage to fall from a helicopter not once, but twice? That question bothered you often, lingering at the back of your mind like a ghost (more so than the wraith himself that kept appearing at random and old moments behind you).

"You can fly, right?" you stared at his face, blank of any expression after finally mustering the courage to ask him.

"These wings aren't just for show, " Gaz hummed, leaning back into the chair that he brought out to watch Soap and Ghost spar. You would have your turn with the wraith after their matches.

"Then how do you manage to fall from a heli twice?" you shot, brows scrunched in a frown, confused.

His wings jerked, black feathers twitching at the reminder - an embarrassing one - of falling out, smiling sheepishly. He simply shrugged, every limb stretching, his wings lengthening to his whole span and toed talons stretching and curling. You were struck by its sharpness, his long nails and claws could cut a man in half, or completely sever a limb off.

You guess you'll never have an answer to your question, he could keep his pride and you could keep your question to yourselves. You wouldn't mind doing so, he let you preen his wings, you could touch those soft feathers and pluck dead or broken ones from his perfect plumage.

Alejandro Vargas, an unmarried and very eligible bachelor with a smooth tongue and a growl of a Mexican accent. He seemed almost too real to be true when he smiled charmingly your way, his perfect, white teeth glimmering under the yellow bulbs and his shiny, sweat-coated skin glowing golden after a mission.

Alejandro's a chivalrous person - and they said chivalry was dead - he's caring and protective. The Los Vaqueros, cowboys, were his team in Las Almas, a family that grew with every new batch of recruits and men and women devoted to the small village they grew up in. Mexicans were a tight-knit community from what you've seen in Alejandro's and Rudolfo's stories.

He was good, handsome, and strong, maybe too perfect to be human, and human, he wasn't. He's a shifter, like Soap, a full-bodied shifter from human to monster. Not unlike his human side, his Nagual side was mighty and honorable, a greater man and an even greater Nagual.

Although solitary by nature, Alejandro was a sociable character, the life of the party if he could, but he was also a responsible man. He was tall, but taller when shifted, claws sharp and a tail helped him balanced.

Once, you'd seen him shift, yellow and brown-dotted fur sprouting from his skin. His lower jaw had protruding canines, standing proudly over the ridge of his nose. He looked like a jaguar hybrid, wearing his golden fur like a crown

His other one, a panther, a jaguar born with more melanin than the usual one, was just as majestic. His fur was a darkened grey with black spots dotting his back and tail. He tended to use this form in darker places, or at night, hitting for efficiency and silence.

Captain Price, you knew he was a monster since your arrival, his long, green tail dragging behind him. You never bothered asking whether he was a lizard or a dragon, you only knew that his scaly tail was reptile-like in origin.

His smoking habit, girthy cigars burning and smoking at the edge, his chapped lips wrapped around the base of it as dark smoke leaked from the sides of his lips, curling in the air and around his beard.

Sometimes, there would be smoke without his cigar being lighted, a dry and unlit stick that still smoked. Charred gas, too dark to simply be cigar smoke. It came from him, inside, you concluded. Dragons could breathe fire and smoke, create it from within and push it out. Stirring around the mass of heat could feel overwhelming, warm, and uncomfortable without a release.

"Why cigars?" Price coccked his head, bro lifted at your question. "Helps me curb the need to burn." He breathed out another cloud, watching it swirl around his golden eyes. He explained it well and simply. Though he also liked the taste of it, an authentic, earthy texture.

Other than the occasional scales here and there that popped out, you've never seen his shift. Did he turn and grow like Soap and Alejandro? Did he change like Ghost and Gaz? Or did he have a dragon spirit? You were, albeit worried about prying, curious about your Captain's change.

Your chance appeared when he called you to his office, wanting your help with something related to his wing- wings? You weren't expecting much, maybe seeing a glimpse of the tip of his wings or the sharp edge of his horns.

He was leaning against his desk when you knocked on his door, letting you in with a sharp grunt. He was hunched over his desk, his wing, green and wide, stretched out. His bucket hat laying on his table, letting his horns grow out and curve upwards, both green and shiny. His tail was violently and anxiously swishing back and forth, hands and arms overturned with scales. His fingers turned green and callused, his nails became sharp claws and tinted green.

"You've got softer hands than any of those blokes, Hunter," Price said, his reason for calling you was for your talented hands, skilled at massages and with the knife. "Lost it in a crash, 's fine."

Although for a reason, you still got to see every part of him, hear the story behind his missing wing, and share a few pleasantries. He groans and grunts during your sessions, but the muscles on his back were less tense and strained.

Price wasn't one to brag about himself, tell his exploits to others, but yours, he did, how skilled your hands were at loosening the knots on his back and shoulders, turning them putty under your palms. Soap had come rushing, following your scent until he found you, for a massage like the one Price got.

You sighed, this wasn't what you signed up for, the sudden rush of adrenaline or scares they would cause, popping or jumping out of nowhere when you had your back turned. Some - Soap, Rudy, and Gaz - were mischievously childish, loving pranks as much as they did them. You'd get white hair before you hit your late 20s.

Fortunately, the three others were far more mature, one charming, one broody, and one proud. You don't regret joining, even with being the weakest and only human in the Task Force, the 141 was your family, a dysfunctional one with an occupational hazard, but still a little family.

After all, big, broad men working by your side on a daily had its perks, and brought a big, horny problem.

Next

[bi-bard]

On My Line, You’re Hooked, I’m Fishin’ - Scott Imagine [Twisters]

Title: On My Line, You’re Hooked, I’m Fishin’

Pairing: Scott [Twisters] X Reader

Word Count: 3,126 words

Warning(s): argument, grabbing someone's wrist

Summary: [Somewhat inspired by "Too Easy" by Tanner Adell] When a new company rolls into town during tornado season, Tyler's team is curious. Perfect uniforms, all looking ready for picture wasn't exactly the normal look for tornado chasing. (Y/n) volunteers to be the one to gather some much-needed intel, doing whatever they need to in order to get it.

Author's Note: I have about five Twisters imagines in my drafts right now.

Listen. I'm have something cute about this guy in my drafts, but he pissed me off in this movie, so I have to get that shit out first. It's part of my process.

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

There was always a lot of energy during tornado season, but nothing beat the feelings on those first few days.

There was all this hope. This adrenaline going for something that hadn't even happened yet. A little while in, you would get an idea about how the season was going to go. The not-knowing before that was the best part. Endless possibilities and all that.

All that to explain that it felt normal for our team to be jumping off the walls like kids in a candy shop when we first all made it to Oklahoma.

Boone and Tyler were sorting out the truck. Dexter and Dani were making sure the trailer was stocked with merch and food for those who needed it. I hadn't been given a task, so I was left to pretty much my own devices. As a result, Lily was left working on her drone while I talked her ear off. She didn't seem to mind it.

I looked up over her head to see a group of white trucks and vans pulling up. Nice ones. Clean, new. I saw the logo slapped on the side.

"What in the hell is Storm Par," I asked.

"What?" Lily looked at me before immediately turning to the other vehicles. "No idea."

"Hey, Tyler!" I walked over to the truck.

"What's going on? Sugar high crashing?"

"Very funny," I replied before pointing to the white vehicles. "Who's Storm Par?"

He furrowed his eyebrows. "No idea. Look like a big corporation."

A group of men started climbing out of the vehicles.

"Woah," he muttered.

"Proper science fair dudes," I commented. "Bet you twenty bucks that they have pocket protectors."

Tyler reached out and whacked my shoulder. "Be nice."

"Fine," I grumbled as he turned back to the truck.

I caught one of the men staring at me. He was tall and seemed to have a completely emotionless face. His clothes were neat, perfectly pressed. When he saw that I had noticed him, he had turned away from me, going to follow his team into the gas station.

"Want me to get intel?"

Tyler chuckled. "Intel? What year do you think it is? We can look them up tonight."

"Yeah, but I just caught one of their boys staring at me," I explained. "Let me do it; it'll kill two birds with one stone."

I heard Boone laugh from the other side of the truck. "I love the way you think!"

"Thanks, Boone."

"Alright, fine," Tyler relented. "But hurry up, we gotta get going."

"Thank you," I said. "Anyone want a drink?"

"Get me a Mountain Dew!" Boone called. I pointed at him and nodded.

"Be back in a minute!"

I walked back to the fridges along the back wall. I saw the man who had stared at me was now standing by the fridges.

I stood next to him. "Hey there."

He didn't respond, just staring straight ahead at the fridge. I had to hold in my laugh as I stepped forward to grab two Mountain Dews.

"Did Storm Par put a ban on talking to other tornado chasers," I asked. He didn't reply again. "Or are you just scared? Promise I don't bite."

"I'm not scared," he replied.

"Oh my goodness, he speaks." I placed a hand over my chest to pretend to be shocked. I chuckled at his clearly unimpressed expression before holding my hand out. "(Y/n)."

"Scott." he shook my hand before very quickly pulling it back.

"Nice to meet you, Scott," I said. "So, what exactly is Storm Par?"

"We track tornados so the data can be used for research."

"Real specific there," I chuckled at him. "What kind of research?"

He didn't respond.

"Oh, come on, I'm not gonna steal your ideas."

"I'm not worried about it."

"Are you worried that I won't understand it? I'm smarter than I look."

He let out an amused huff before grabbing a water and starting to walk to the checkout. I followed him.

"Maybe you could explain it to me later then," I suggested, hopping in front of him just before he got in line. I smiled at his blank look. "Tonight. There's a bar not too far from here, right next to a hotel that our crew's staying at; I'll buy you a drink."

I watched as his eyes scanned me for a moment. It looked like he was trying to figure out whether or not I was tricking him. I was almost hurt. I mean, I was tricking him, but not in the way that he was assuming.

I turned around to pay for my drinks, so I could step out of the way.

"Come on," I pushed before rattling off the name of the bar. "Meet me there tonight. One drink. If I'm that bad of company, then you can leave and I won't complain once. I'll even try to stay out of your hair during the chases."

Scott took a deep breath. "Fine."

"Yes," I cheered out of mostly fake excitement. "You won't regret this."

"I hope not."

I reached out and fiddled with a button on his white shirt. Far too perfect to be out there chasing storms. "Can't wait to see how well your perfect uniforms last out there."

I stepped back, not missing how his eyes followed my hand.

"See you later, Fancy Pants!" I waved as I started running back out to Tyler's truck.

"How'd it go," Tyler asked as I hopped into the passenger seat.

"Didn't get much," I admitted, handing Boone his drink before buckling up. "But I did get him to say yes to meeting me for a drink later."

"Atta kid!" Boone clapped his hand over my shoulder.

"I know, I know, a miracle worker," I replied. "Ready to get out there?"

"Absolutely," Tyler said.

The rest of the day went so much faster than it had any right to.

We saw Storm Par a lot. It took everything in me to not be a bit of a dick when we passed them. I did wave once when I spotted Scott in the passenger seat of one of the trucks. He nodded at me in an awkward greeting, which led to him getting a bit of a weird look from the man who was driving.

"What are you doing?" Tyler laughed as I relaxed back into my seat.

"Playing with the food," Boone answered before I could, causing me to laugh loudly.

"I was gonna say 'being friendly', but that's better," I said.

Maybe that was the excitement of it all messing with my head, but it felt like it took a matter of minutes before we found ourselves driving to the bar that I had told Scott to meet me at.

I walked in ahead of the group, trying to keep from laughing at the comments that Boone was shouting over my shoulder.

I saw some of the other guys from Storm Par at a table together. At the actual bar was Scott. He looked a bit tense, almost disheartened. I started to wonder just how long he had been there. Had I kept him waiting? Did he think that I stood him up? Was that the face of stubbornness just before calling the night a bust and going back to wherever he was staying?

I guess it didn't matter now. I couldn't back out.

"Fancy pants!" I called before walking over quickly. He seemed startled as I plopped onto the barstool next to him. "How was your day?"

"You should know, you were there for most of it," he replied.

"Was that a joke or are you just annoyed with me," I asked.

"Guess you'll have to figure it out." he shrugged. I saw a small grin form as he took a sip of his drink.

I let out a scoff. "Wow, Fancy Pants is bold now. A couple of sips is all it took?"

Scott rolled his eyes. The bartender walked over to us. I just asked for the same of whatever Scott had been drinking before focusing back on the conversation.

"The uniform held up well, I see." I pulled lightly at one of the white sleeves of his shirt. "Research must not be as hands-on as I thought it was."

"We do the same thing your crew does," he argued.

"With a bigger paycheck, I'm sure," I replied.

"Our work is a bit more important."

"And what work is that?"

"Why don't you tell me about yours first?" he smirked at me before taking another sip of his drink.

He thought it was clever. I could tell. Avoid my question by focusing the attention back on me. In any other situation, it would have screwed me out of the information that I needed.

But in this one... it was a mistake.

Here's the thing: I could talk. I could go on and on for hours about absolute nonsense. I could go from story to story without taking a breath.

And I did.

I told him about all the work that we had done to help people. About digging through the destroyed debris to try and find some pieces of people's lives. About making bundles of food. Then, I just started telling stories about every funny or weird moment that had happened since I had joined Tyler's crew.

The time that I burned served me well. Scott relaxed. Whether that was a result of his drink or simply because I was earning his trust was a mystery to me. I didn't bother focusing on which it was.

"Alright, alright," I said. "That's enough about what I do. Tell me about Storm Par."

"I told you; we collect data for future tornado research," Scott replied.

"Oh, come on." I rolled my eyes. "I mean, not to be rude, but I've seen your team. You're all a bit young to be jumping into research all on your own. And Storm Par doesn't sound like a company attached to a college."

"No, no, we're a private company," he explained. "We've had some luck finding a few really interested investors."

"Like...?"

"The biggest one is Marshall Riggs. He's a big-name real estate guy."

I couldn't quite put the pieces together at the time, but I felt a pit in my stomach. Unease that formed all too fast. "What would a real estate guy want with tornado research?"

"He's helping people," Scott's response felt like an attempt to twist an image that hadn't even been made yet. "He uses it to find people that have lost their homes and businesses and such and he buys them. It allows those people to move forward with their lives without having to wait for insurance to make a call on it."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Doesn't a disaster usually force the prices down for land?"

"I mean, it's lower than the normal price. It's not like he's buying this land up for five dollars and a pack of gum."

"What other aid does Storm Par offer them then, if they're getting rid of their homes and land?"

"Our investors focus funds on the research."

"So no?"

"So we're focused on the bigger picture. More long-term consequences."

I took the subtlest deep breath that I could. "I see."

I looked down at my watch.

"Oh, look at that, it's a lot later than I thought," I said, completely lying through my teeth. "We have to head out early in the morning."

I handed my card to the bartender, muttering for him to just cover both of our drinks.

"I can walk you out," Scott replied.

"Yeah, sure, okay," I mumbled, scribbling down a tip and putting my card away.

I followed Scott outside, letting him hold the door open. I wanted to seem less tense than I was. I was doubting how well it was working, but all I needed was for it to be good enough to get out of there without being questioned, so who really cares?

We made it outside. I was about to insist that we go our separate ways for the night, but he cut me off.

"You were right," Scott said. "Didn't regret that."

"Oh, good," I replied. I may have regretted it.

There was a long pause. Scott went to step closer to me. I almost scrambled back before he could, forcing out a chuckle.

"Well, I should go." I shrugged, continuing to walk backward before eventually turning around and just calling to him over my shoulder. "Have a good night. Stay safe. See you around, fancy pants!"

A few minutes later, I was knocking on Tyler's door like I was a landlord looking for late rent.

"(Y/n), what the hell are you doing," he asked as he yanked the door open. "You're gonna piss off somebody."

"I'm already a bit pissed, so maybe it'll do some good to share the suffering," I replied before shoving my way past him. "I have answers."

"About Storm Par?"

"No about what Scott likes to do on a nice summer day- Yes about Storm Par!"

"You are grumpy when it's late." he sat down on the edge of his bed.

"Shut up," I slapped his shoulder. "I found out about Storm Par's funding."

"Okay..."

"So, yes, they do research and track the storms and report that data back to their investors," I explained. "The problem is that their major investor is named Marshall Riggs, who has apparently made quite a name for himself in real estate."

"What would he want with it?"

"Well, he's going to the places impacted by the storms and buying up land from people who lose their homes and businesses and stuff. He's apparently spinning some story that he's allowing people to move forward with their lives, but come on, he's just using this information to get his hands on cheap land."

"Do you know what he's doing with the land?"

"I didn't ask."

"Okay..."

"Storm Par is giving this man power to do some real harm here."

"I know, I know."

"So, what are we gonna do," I asked, looking at Tyler again.

"I... I don't know," he replied, running his hand over his face.

"We can't just let him keep doing this!"

"(Y/n)," he sighed. "I don't even know if this guy is doing something that's technically illegal-"

"It's still wrong!" I snapped at him.

"I know!"

I froze.

"But whatever we do won't stop him. He'll keep preying on desperate people and whatever we say won't change what impact he might have on them. They're desperate, they think they're alone."

"So we just do nothing?"

"No." Tyler shook his head. "What we can do is continue helping people."

I nodded. "I just... I feel like there's just so much more that we could do."

"In a perfect world, we would be able to speak out and it would stop him." he shrugged. "It would make him give up and walk off with his tail between his legs. But we can't. We just have to do what we can."

I took a deep breath. Tyler pulled me into a hug.

"We're doing good work. And we'll only earn more outreach. We'll continue to do better."

I stepped back. "I'm still going to be an asshole tomorrow."

"Just don't end up dead or in jail."

"I'll do my best," I shrugged before going to walk out. "Good night!"

"Night!" he called out after me.

I was hoping that the next morning would have been mostly calm. That we would get out into the field before Storm Par or vice versa. Something to keep me from having to face Scott for just a few more hours.

I was walking back to the truck after picking up some breakfast. I was occupied with my own thoughts. I was still upset. I was still fighting the urge to go scream from the rooftops about Marshall Riggs and the bullshit he was doing.

"(Y/n)!"

I considered sprinting to the truck when I heard Scott say my name. I just wasn't feeling mean enough to do that... yet.

"Scott," I said as I turned around. "How are ya?"

"Good, good, what about you?"

"I'm fine, just busy," I replied, going to step away. "Heading out early and all."

Scott stepped forward. "I was hoping to ask if you wanted to meet again tonight. Maybe dinner instead of a drink."

"I... I don't think that'd be a good idea."

His face fell. "Oh... why?"

"I just don't think we clicked like I thought we would." the goal was to maintain the peace until the end of the season. "But hey, we tried it, that's what matters. I'll... I'll see you out there."

"Did I... Did I do something wrong?"

"Nope, you were just fine. Just didn't work."

I turned to walk away but was stopped when Scott grabbed my wrist. "I don't believe that."

I yanked my arm from him. "Don't ever fucking grab me again."

"I just want the truth."

"I told you the truth." I turned away again.

I was grabbed again. "Just wait-"

I pulled my arm away and shoved him backward. "I fucking warned you to not grab me like that again."

He seemed to still be reeling from the fact that I shoved him.

"You want the truth? Fine," I shrugged. "I find your company and what it stands for to be completely despicable. I think it's disgusting that y'all would accept money to help a man take advantage of innocent people. I think it's disgusting that you don't seem to give a damn about it. If I could tear your company down, I would, but in reality, my words would never stop you or your damn investors. And I hope that one day you wake up, look in the mirror, and feel the crushing pain of all those that you helped that man manipulate."

Scott stepped forward, a response clearly ready, but he looked over my shoulder and froze.

"(Y/n), you good?" I heard Tyler's voice call over to me.

"Yeah," I yelled over my shoulder. "Just having a quick chat!"

I stepped away again, walking as quickly as I could to make it over to him and the rest of the crew.

"Didn't end up in jail," I offered, trying to look at the bright side.

"I almost did," he muttered. "Get in the truck."

I did a little salute to him before going around to the passenger seat. I saw Tyler stare down Scott for a few more seconds before hopping in the driver's seat.

Maybe there was some argument to be made about the benefits of killing someone with kindness. But that just wasn't how I operated. And I think I'm better off that way.

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